Work Text:
– Megumi POV
Seeing his pink-haired friend in the training ring was a foreign feeling. After all, he’d been ‘dead’ for the past few months only to pop back up like a reanimated zombie courtesy of none other than Gojo.
Megumi deadpanned, his lips in a tight line as he remembered the day his teacher had rolled that box in as a surprise—and a surprise it was. A vein throbbed on his forehead at the memory.
Even now, watching Yuuji spar against Gojo felt fake, like a fever dream. He was the same vibrant soul he’d met, the same naively enthusiastic ball of radiant optimism.
His eyes opened and narrowed. No, something was definitely different. He was the same to the core, but something was different, and not in the way a brush with death would intrinsically change someone.
Megumi tapped his fingers on his knee, his chin resting in his palm. It was on the tip of his tongue, his teeth itching to put words to the indescribable feeling.
Yuuji lunged and punched with his newfound abilities; all the while, Gojo encouraged and taunted him. Sweat beaded and slid down the curvature of his face, soaking into the red hood, the red hooded sweatshirt custom-designed by Gojo.
There it is again - that feeling. Something to do with Yuuji and Gojo? Maybe? Megumi chewed on his cheek, his eyes darting more intensely between the two. Gojo grinned in admiration. He had seen Gojo smile before, but it always felt forced, like a mask - this time, it was different.
The way he evaded and countered Yuuji's attacks felt more intimate, almost like a dance instead of a brawl.
The drumming on his knee intensified. He must have been imagining things, but in his gut, he felt it - a semblance of truth clawing to the surface.
Yuuji grinned and laughed after landing a punch—or so he thought until he found himself pinned to the ground with Gojo straddling his waist, grinning down at him and sticking his tongue out.
There! It was subtle, but it was there. It was a brief exchange of looks; one was shy and almost embarrassed by Yuuji, while the other, coming from Gojo, was promising.
Always the quiet observer, Megumi had seen that look on enough people to recognize a crush when he saw one.
Megumi lifted his chin from his palm, his eyes wide, but he remained silent. What exactly happened between them in that basement?
The moment vanished almost as quickly as it appeared. Had he not been as astute, he would’ve missed it.
Gojo threw his arm around Yuuji's shoulders and laughed heartily, ruffling his pink hair.
"Yuuji, you've improved so much!" Gojo praised, resting his head atop Yuuji's.
Gojo was never known for his ability to respect anyone's personal space, but Yuuji seemed to be the only one who allowed and welcomed the contact.
The more he pondered that thought, the more he realized Yuuji shared Gojo’s lack of awareness of personal space, especially with Gojo.
Megumi shuddered in disgust at the thought. He must be mistaken; there was no way Yuuji would—
Yuuji laughed, metaphorically wagging his tail like an excited puppy being praised and hanging off the arms wrapped around his shoulders. "I learn from the best!"
With another lurch in his stomach, Megumi had to bite down on his tongue to prevent himself from emptying his breakfast at his feet.
"Feeling a little green there, Megumi-chan?" Gojo taunted as he wrapped his arms around his friend a little tighter.
"If you don't apply for a restraining order against this idiot, as your friend, Yuuji, I will happily do it for you," Megumi ground out.
"Don't be so meeeean, Megumi-chan! You don’t have to be jealous; you get to train with the strongest sensei in the world, too!" Gojo pouted.
Fingers tightened imperceptibly around Gojo's forearms as if pulling him closer. But Yuuji's face betrayed something vital, he realized. It was a possessive, jealous look, daring anyone to try and take him away.
‘ Itadori… really? This idiot is your pick? ’ Megumi struggled not to roll his eyes and only shook his head in disappointment.
Yuuji let out a small laugh. "Really! I don't mind! I've learned a lot, but I still have a long way to go to catch up with everyone else. Besides, we work well together. Right, Sensei?"
Yuuji's words were sincere, but now they felt like they had a deeper meaning. However, he didn't want to make hasty assumptions. He decided to observe more closely than before and uncover the truth, whether it was mutual feelings or just a simple infatuation from a boy who felt a strong bond with the man he saw as his savior.
Gojo released Yuuji with a squeeze of his shoulders and a light tap on his nose, enunciating each word. “Don’t worry, Yuuji-kun, I'll be here the whole way! For as long as you need me!”
In the blink of an eye, Megumi was assaulted as Gojo roughly mussed his hair with both hands. Megumi shook his head, swatting at Gojo’s hands like a cat with its claws out, only to be met with the stupid, unyielding barrier of infinity.
When Gojo’s arm slung around his shoulders, casually invading his space, he felt it then—a flare of uncontrolled cursed energy. Jealousy. It was a cruel, whispered tendril of energy curling around his ankles, heavy and metallic. Then, it was gone the moment Gojo’s arm dropped.
“Good work today, Yuuji. Go ahead and get cleaned up and enjoy the rest of your night,” Gojo grinned with a brief look of gutwrenching fondness, and then that mask of his slid right back into place.
Grumbling, Megumi stood, grabbed his bag off the ground, and slung it over his shoulder. “Let’s go, Itadori. We’re getting ramen tonight.”
Yuuji looked from Gojo to Megumi and back with a genuinely excited grin. “Right! Yeah, I’ll see you later, Gojo-sensei!” A heated longing lingered in those amber eyes.
Just what in the world was he witnessing right now? Megumi felt so confused, as if he was having an out-of-body experience, which left him questioning everything.
Yuuji eagerly slurped down his third bowl of ramen. Their appetites always worked into a frenzy after an intense sparring session. However, Megumi swore he was a bottomless pit regardless of whether they trained or not. Yuuji was born, blessed or cursed he wasn’t sure, with the ability to put any competitive eater to shame.
Megumi twirled around the same stray noodle in his bowl, his appetite lacking as he ran through the previous encounter in his head, glancing up at Yuuji every so often. He was known for his quiet stoicism; he kept his face void of emotion, but his mind was buzzing with questions.
Should he bring up what he thought he’d witnessed? Should he encourage his friend to open up and talk to him? Did he honestly want to know? Maybe he imagined the whole thing. The turn in his gut suggested otherwise. ‘Fuck,’ He internally groaned.
He scowled at that. No, he definitely didn’t want to know about anything that might include Gojo Satoru, especially in that sense. But–
A hand waved in front of his face, forcing his attention away from his thoughts to the concern in those innocent doe eyes.
“Hello! Earth to Fushiguroooooo!” Yuuji waved both hands frantically.
Megumi sat back and sighed. He didn't care what that idiot of a teacher did. In fact, he could sleep with the entire city, and he wouldn't be surprised or care. However, he did care about his friend – a vulnerable friend who was sometimes too kind and naive for his own good.
“Itadori…” Megumi hesitated, shaking his head, and took a sip of his water.
Yuuji tilted his head to the side, resembling that same curious puppy. “Hey, what’s going on? Is everything okay? You can talk to me.”
Megumi deadpanned at the hypocrisy of the statement and exhaled another heavy breath. He rubbed the back of his neck and glanced sideways.
“You know you can talk to me too. Just…” He looked back, meeting Yuuji’s gaze. “Itadori, just be careful – that guy…”
Megumi couldn’t bring himself to say Gojo’s name, but Yuuji’s shock revealed he knew precisely who and what he was talking about.
The concern in Yuuji’s eyes vanished, escalating into a poorly hidden panic. “Wh–I don’t know what you mean. Fushiguro, I’m not–”
“I didn’t know your voice could pitch that high,” Megumi leveled him with a stare, leaving him speechless. “I’m not stupid, and I’m certainly not blind. Although sometimes I wish I were.”
Yuuji fidgeted in his seat. He was a lot of things—the kind one, the poster boy for radiating positivity and enthusiasm—but one thing he was not and never had been was a good liar.
“Fushiguro…I–” Yuuji stammered but was cut off when Megumi raised his hand.
“You don’t have to tell me, but please don’t lie to me. I’m your friend, and whatever it is you’re doing with–him.” Megumi paused, working very hard to keep the disdain from showing on his face. “Just know, I’ll support you. I don’t want you to get hurt or in trouble. I trust you, I don’t trust him.”
Yuuji sat in silence, fidgeting with his napkin, tearing it into small pieces. Finally, he spoke, "I...I don't think there's anything for you to worry about."
Megumi started to interrupt, but Yuuji held up a hand this time. “Nothing’s happened; I’m pretty sure it’s one-sided. You know how he is. He likes to joke around.”
“Nothing’s happened?” Megumi reiterated, completely unconvinced.
Yuuji pursed his lips, resting his chin on his palm, and absentmindedly drew imaginary circles on the table. “It’s not like I haven’t hinted at it a lot. And I thought I was the dense, oblivious one.” Yuuji mumbled the last part more quietly to himself.
Megumi narrowed his eyes at him. No, Yuuji was definitely still oblivious.
Did he not recognize the way Gojo acted with him? How different it was from everyone else. Not just the way he acted but also the way he talked to him and doted on him. It was always 'Yuuji and his friends,' never calling the rest of us by name when we were in a group.
Yuuji tapped his pointer fingers together and pursed his lips. "But since you brought it up, I think I might need a more direct approach, with a little help from my support. " Those sweet and conniving doe eyes fluttered up to his.
Yuuji must have seen his eyes go as wide as saucers and the way he gripped his chopsticks in a death grip because he continued, "Fushiguro, you have to help me! If even you can see something is there, then it can't be just me."
"Itadori..." Megumi began, lowering his voice to a whisper and covering his mouth with one hand. "Gojo is your teacher! There are lines that can't—shouldn't be crossed!"
Yuuji slumped onto the table, his hands outstretched, and then he said it, had the audacity to say it. “Fushiguroooo, please! I’ve already died once. In this line of work, what is right and wrong when it could all end after the next mission?”
A vein throbbed on his temple, and he scooted as far back in his booth as he could, crossing his arms over his chest.
“So why don’t you just tell him then?” Megumi ground out.
Yuuji pouted. He was sure there was even a sparkle of tears in those honeyed eyes. "I have! You grew up with and know him better than anyone else, right? If anything, I think you're the perfect person! You would be able to get him to confess his feelings. Help me–as a caring best friend.” Yuuji grabbed ahold of his hands in desperation. “If he still doesn't..." He swallowed down the blatant lie. "If he doesn't, then, I'll let it go, I promise!"
Megumi instantly regretted his decision to say anything. There was no way, absolutely NO WAY, he was going to play matchmaker for his best friend and his idiot teacher, no less, in this scenario.
So, that’s how Megumi found himself in the sparring ring with Gojo the next day for an impromptu training session. Under the guise of refining his ten shadows technique, he claimed he needed additional practice to move through the shadows undetected. Who better to train with than the master of sensing cursed energy than the almighty Gojo Satoru himself?
Gojo, flattered and ever the over-achieving mentor, didn’t hesitate—even on his day off. “I could never turn away a precious student actively seeking my help,” he preened.
Megumi was a sucker, through and through. After his sister ended up in the hospital, unable to live her life, he’d become a pushover for Yuuji’s requests. Now, more than ever, he felt the weight of their positions in life, especially after believing Yuuji to be dead for so long.
If there was one way to get under the 'Honored One's' skin, it was jealousy. He had never known Gojo to share anything he actively wanted for himself, especially sweets. As ridiculous as it was, he was like a dragon protecting his treasure, only ever sharing it with one person: Yuuji.
Yuuji might as well be the cherry on top of Gojo’s proverbial sweets mountain.
The mental image made him roll his eyes once more, a common occurrence these days.
Yuuji might be Gojo's student, and although Gojo might encourage him to pursue a relationship with someone his own age and would step aside to let him live his youth, if Yuuji were to indulge in a relationship with someone - say, in the same tier as Gojo - and Gojo genuinely wanted him, not even Megumi thought he would be able to stand idly by and let it happen.
Despite being physically older, Gojo might be even more immature mentally.
“Ah, Megumi~” Gojo sang. “You wound me, inviting me to train only for you to space out.”
Megumi scowled, slipping into the shadows and reappearing a few feet behind Gojo. “I planned to ask Itadori for help, but he’s busy. So, I settled for you.”
Gojo’s smirk widened as he jumped to the other side of the mat. “Is Megumi jealous that someone stole his friend away?”
Megumi sighed, half-reappearing in a shadow on the ceiling. “Jealous? Definitely. I’m here with you, and he’s out there.”
“So mean!” Gojo lunged half-heartedly for the ceiling, floating in the air.
“Word is Nanamin took Yuuji out today,” Megumi enunciated, using Yuuji’s affectionate nickname for their teacher. He sank into the floor and grabbed for Gojo’s ankle when he lept out of reach.
Gojo’s carefully placed facade began to crack. The smile on his lips didn’t reach his hidden eyes, but even with the blindfold, he knew those blue eyes would be icy, threatening.
“Yuuji-kun does seem to enjoy spending time with one of his mentors,” Gojo stated, the playfulness in his voice a mocking twist.
Megumi landed gracefully on his feet and shrugged nonchalantly. “I guess. It seems his crush didn’t feel the same way about him, so maybe he needed a shoulder to cry on.” Picking an invisible piece of lint off his collar, he continued, “Imagine my surprise when it wasn’t you, he sought out.”
Gojo’s smile vanished completely, leaving his lips in a tight line, and his fingers curled at his sides ever so slightly.
Megumi sighed and shifted into another fighting stance. “As long as he’s happy, I’ll support him. At least Nanami’s dependable.”
Gojo’s bristled, his cursed energy briefly flickering out of tight control—just barely. “That’s enough, Megumi.”
But Megumi continued to pluck at another stray thread on his jacket. “Itadori told me just yesterday that he decided to give up because he didn’t believe he was good enough for this guy. He thought he’d never reach their level, never be worthy. Ridiculous, isn’t it?”
Megumi sank into the shadows once more, but his voice echoed throughout the room. “I told him his crush was stupid. It’s not every day you get to die and come back to try again. In our line of work, who knows how long it’ll last this time.”
Gojo caught him mid-air and tossed him across the room, crashing into the wall with more force than expected.
Rubbing the back of his head, Megumi growled in pain. “Asshole… At least Nanami could protect him if he needed it.”
Gojo’s terrifying fake smile revealed his teeth as he tempered his cursed energy. “Nanami would never go for Yuuji; he’s his student, after all.”
“Are you sure about that?” Megumi only gave a non-committal shrug. “You know him better than me, but we both know he has a soft spot for him.”
The entire room trembled, and Megumi stood, shaking out his limbs. “Why are you so angry, Gojo? You’re acting like you’re the one who has feelings for him.”
Gojo’s arms stretched wide as he asserted, “I care for the well-being of all my students. Yuuji is no exception.” His tone held an edge. “What’s got you so talkative today, Megumi?”
"We’re done for today," Megumi met Gojo's gaze with determination, but there was a hint of futility. "Who knows? It could be too late. I expected Itadori to be back a few hours ago, so I guess it's going well." Megumi stopped in the doorway, sighed, and looked over his shoulder. "You know it's okay for you to be happy too." After a beat, he continued, "Do you have feelings for Itadori, Gojo?"
Gojo stood there, his anger deflated, replaced by a semblance of regret and sorrow. His hands flexed at his sides repeatedly, and his voice trembled—honest to God trembled—when he said, “I—of course I do. It’s not him who isn’t worthy of me; it’s me who isn’t worthy of him.”
“Well, maybe you should tell him that, idiot.” Megumi swung the door wide, revealing a very stunned Yuuji holding a takeout food bag and a box of sweets from Gojo’s favorite cafe.
Megumi patted Yuuji's shoulder, causing him to stand there with his mouth wide open. "If your mouth stays open like that, you're going to catch some flies," he remarked.
With a firm shove, Megumi pushed Yuuji through the door. "You two idiots, figure things out."
And with that, he left, slamming the door behind him and pinching the bridge of his nose. The impending headache from the morning returned with a vengeance.
Yuuji better never say he never did anything for him. Ever.
The crash and thud of food behind the door and the soft words, “Is it true, Gojo…” had Megumi’s stomach lurching, barely staving off the gag in his throat. He promptly excused himself, leaving his idiot friend to it—the chance and confession he so desperately wanted and needed.
Yep, instant regret. That's what Megumi felt first thing in the morning. In fact, it wasn't even that morning; it all started the night before. “For fuck’s sake, Yuuji,” he muttered, “we share a wall!” Megumi lay face down, and his pillow still clamped around his ears–as if covering his ears could erase the memory of the echoing desperate whines and moans.
This was an old building; the soundproofing was non-existent, not that it would have helped. It was the middle of the night—correction, very early morning—when every wooden floorboard creaked so loud as the two new lovebirds evidently couldn't figure out how to say goodbye, so they didn’t, for hours.
It started with a barely registerable conversation that Megumi refused to acknowledge. Clearly already wrapped so tight around Yuuji’s little finger, Gojo begged, “Do I have to go? No one will know. I’ll be quiet, I promise.”
Yuuji must’ve easily given in because there was a small “Ok…” Then came more muffled sounds, followed by a sudden thud against a door and then the wall. Breathless and urgent, Yuuji moaned, “Ngh… Wait, we can’t do this here… Gojo, wait!”
He certainly didn’t wait. How many pillows would it take to drown out the sounds?
Megumi tossed and turned on his bed. This is what he gets, he thought, what he deserves. His eyes snapped open, scanning the nightstand for something to hurl against the wall. But then, a long, drawn-out, keening moan reached his ears—the name on Yuuji’s lips he never wanted to hear, spoken in a tone that would haunt him forever.
“Satoru,” Yuuji attempted to stifle his voice, but it was clearly in vain. “Fuck, Yuuji,” Gojo’s voice was utterly broken. The floorboards creaked in a rhythmic fashion, leaving very little to the imagination as to what they were doing–multiple times.
He’d kill them, curse both of them before the sun dared to show its cheery face above the horizon.
“Damn, Fushiguro, rough night?” Nobara had the audacity to point out the dark purple circles under his eyes at breakfast the following morning.
Stabbing at his omurice, he shot her a death glare. Nobara, undeterred, slid into the seat across from him, her own meal in hand.
Flipping her hair, she glanced around, “Not that I care, but it’s not like Itadori to be late to any meal–” Nobara’s words hung in the air, but Megumi’s growl cut her off abruptly. “Do not say his name right now,” he warned.
The devil himself—Yuuji, the one who shall not be named—floated into the room, simply glowing, his eyes like stars, outshining even the burning sun. Nobara’s feline grin widened as she looked from Megumi to Yuuji and back again. “Oh, there’s a story here, and I want it.”
Megumi’s anger waned, though only slightly, in the face of his friend’s happiness.
“Phewww, Itadori,” Nobara began, her words trailing off. “What happened to you last night? It looks like you’ve been, well, fuc–”
Megumi slapped a hand over her mouth, desperate to cut her off at any cost. “Not now, please. I just started eating.”
Yuuji sighed into the seat beside Nobara, his expression dreamy. “Just the best night of my whole life!”
Megumi’s glare intensified. “Maybe next time, have the best night of your life a little quieter—or better yet, in a different location.”
Megumi’s spine went taut as the unthinkable happened—the other voice. It was Gojo. ‘Dammit, why me?’
“Awe, good morning, Megumi-chan!” Gojo exclaimed, ruffling Megumi’s hair, exuding the same level of nauseating glee. “This is all thanks to you and that little mind game. Really, I—we owe you!” He then wrapped his arms around Yuuji’s shoulders, his chin resting atop his head.
Nobara’s knowing look spoke volumes. “Gross, but about damn time.”
Megumi shook his head. “Nope, too early for this. I regret everything.” He stood, grabbed his tray, and spun on his heel to leave.
“Fushiguro!” Yuuji called after him, stopping him in his tracks. “Thank you.”
Megumi glanced over his shoulder with a full-bodied sigh, meeting Yuuji’s eyes for a fleeting moment. Then he nodded once and left to eat his breakfast in much-deserved peace.