Chapter Text
Megumi Zenin made his way toward the cheetah exhibit, his well-worn sneakers crunching softly against the path. His zoo-issued baseball cap—black with the Ueno Zoo logo embroidered on the front—was pulled low over his eyes, shielding him from both the sun and any unwanted conversation.
One of the cheetahs had been reported as more nervous than usual which, considering cheetahs were basically the overthinkers of the animal kingdom, meant something was up.
He found the big cat curled up in its usual hiding spot, looking miserable. Without a word, Megumi sat down nearby, careful not to make direct eye contact. He casually placed some food beside it—no sudden movements, no unnecessary chatter. Just quiet patience. After a few minutes, the cheetah’s tense muscles eased, and it let out a long breath.
"Finally," Megumi muttered, reaching out to check it over. A few moments later, he found the issue—a stuffy nose. "Seriously? You’re acting like you’re dying over a little congestion?"
The cheetah, unimpressed, simply blinked at him.
Sighing, Megumi pulled out a cheetah-approved nebulizer, mixed the medicine with water, and held it steady as the big cat inhaled the mist. Within minutes, its eyes drooped, and soon enough, it was snoozing peacefully.
"There. Drama queen," he murmured, giving its side a pat before standing up. She would be better within the next few days.
As he walked off, he caught one of the interns whispering, "Dr. Zenin is basically a Disney princess."
He pretended not to hear it.
By the time Megumi wrapped up his morning rounds at the zoo, he was exhausted but satisfied. The pandas had been their usual dramatic selves—one had flopped into the pool with all the grace of a sack of rice, more for the attention than anything else. The elephants had gotten their usual treats and grooming, and, for once, the giraffes had cooperated enough for him to check their teeth without an unnecessary struggle. A particularly grumpy koala had glared at him before flicking its tail in pure disdain. Typical.
As noon rolled around, he made his way back to the staff lounge, already anticipating the group chat blowing up with messages from Mai, Maki, and Yuuta. They didn’t get nights like this often—just the four of them, drinking, venting, and pretending the Zenin clan didn’t exist for a few blissful hours.
His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out, expecting the usual chaotic planning.
Instead, his stomach dropped.
Naobito Zenin: Emergency dinner meeting tonight.
Megumi frowned, his plans evaporating before his eyes. Of course. Of course, just when he had a rare evening off, the old man had to summon him like some dutiful heir.
It wasn’t even the meeting itself that pissed him off—it was the timing. The Zenin clan had thrown Maki out the second she married Yuuta, deeming him unworthy. The family treated marriage as a calculated power move, leveraging bloodlines for influence, and Yuuta didn’t fit their mold. No prestigious family name, no political advantage—just a guy who loved Maki enough to stand beside her no matter what.
And Megumi and Mai weren’t about to let the clan’s bullshit drive a wedge between them. Supporting Maki was their one true rebellion, the one thing they refused to compromise on.
But instead of kicking back with his cousins and downing lemon bombs while complaining about life, he now had to put on a yukata, sit through another tedious dinner, and listen to whatever nonsense Naobito decided to drone on about.
Shoving his phone back into his pocket, Megumi exhaled sharply. He would deal with this later.
Megumi walked into the staff lunchroom and immediately spotted Toge, already seated with a tray in front of him. They had become friends during university, mostly because Megumi didn’t have many friends outside of his clan. Toge had been one of the few people who didn’t care about the Zenin name, and over time, he became one of the few constants in Megumi’s life.
Toge was deaf, communicating primarily through sign language. Luckily for him, Megumi had already learned to sign fluently before they had even met.
What are you eating? Megumi signed as he dropped into the seat across from him.
Toge exhaled sharply, stabbing at his tray in frustration. There are no vegetarian options again. He flicked his fingers toward the sad-looking salad next to a pile of plain rice. How is this a proper place of employment when the lunchroom can’t even manage basic veggie options? Half the staff here are vegetarian or vegan! Do they not care?
Megumi bit back a smirk as Toge ranted, hands moving fast and sharp. Usually, Toge was unbothered, but nothing got him more riled up than bad food.
If it’s that bad, let’s go somewhere else, Megumi signed. I did enough work this morning. We can take it easy this afternoon.
Toge perked up instantly. Yes. Perfect. Let’s go now.
The two of them headed to a vegan-friendly spot nearby, where Toge immediately perked up over a plate of onigiri with salted pickles. Megumi ordered sushi—extra ginger, as always.
Toge made a face, waving a hand at Megumi’s plate. You and your ginger. Disgusting.
Megumi smirked, unbothered as he picked up another piece.
They ate in comfortable silence until Megumi finally signed, I’ve got a clan meeting tonight.
Toge rolled his eyes mid-bite. Can you get out of it?
Megumi shook his head, exhaling through his nose as he reached for another piece of sushi. If I skip, it’ll just cause more problems. It’s not worth the headache.
Toge considered that for a moment, then signed, Pretend to be sick.
Then I’d have to pretend to be sick and still deal with the fallout later. Too much effort.
So just don’t go, Toge signed, completely unfazed.
Megumi didn’t respond right away, instead poking at the wasabi on his plate like it might hold the answer to all his problems. Eventually, he signed, Tsumiki.
Toge’s expression shifted, his hands stilling. He nodded, understanding immediately.
After a beat, he signed, Are you seeing her after work?
Megumi nodded.
Toge was quiet for a moment before signing, I hope it goes well.
Megumi gave a small nod in return, the weight of the conversation settling between them. It wasn’t a topic they needed to dwell on.
After a pause, Toge raised a brow and signed, Want me to change the subject?
Megumi let out a short laugh and nodded. Absolutely.
Immediately, Toge launched into something completely different, signing fast and animatedly about a YouTube show he’d been watching—some ridiculous thing where celebrities answered questions while eating progressively spicier hot wings.
Megumi gave him a flat look. Why would anyone sign up for that?
Toge huffed, offended. Because it’s fun, you old man.
Megumi snorted, shaking his head.
Tch. You don’t get it. Toge signed dramatically before smirking. My favorite celeb was on it last week.
Megumi frowned. Who?
Toge signed, The boxer, Yuu— He stopped mid-sign, rolling his eyes before continuing. Don’t you remember?
Want me to send the video? Toge signed, eyes gleaming.
Megumi shot him a deadpan look. No.
Toge grinned. I’m sending it anyway.
After finishing their meal, Megumi and Toge headed back to the zoo to deal with the inevitable desk work waiting for them. It wasn’t exciting, but it had to be done—tracking the animals’ health, logging updates, and filling out reports. Megumi had long accepted that paperwork came with the job.
By the time the workday wrapped up, Megumi pulled out his phone and texted his driver.
Toge, never one to miss an opportunity, smirked and signed, Your fancy Zenin lifestyle is showing. He added a dramatic hand flourish for emphasis.
Megumi rolled his eyes and signed back, Keep it up, throwing in a less-than-polite gesture for good measure.
Toge just grinned.
A few minutes later, the car pulled up, and Megumi slid into the backseat. “I’m going to see Tsumiki,” he told the driver. “Just for an hour or two.”
The driver nodded, and the car pulled away.
Megumi made his way to see his older sister, Tsumiki. She had once been his anchor—caring, lively, always looking out for him. But that was before the accident.
She had been on her way to pick him up from detention that day, a favor she hadn't even complained about, just teasing him over text about being a delinquent. But she never made it. A semi-truck, its driver exhausted and slow to react, barreled through a red light. The impact crushed the driver’s side of her car, flipping it onto the curb. By the time help arrived, she was barely conscious. She had survived—somehow—but the damage had been irreversible. Along with permanent hearing loss, there were other complications: memory gaps, moments of confusion, a dullness in her eyes that hadn't been there before.
Since then, she hadn’t quite been the same.
Now, she lived in a high-end facility, one of the best in the country. It was the kind of place that came with an absurd price tag, one the Zenin clan covered more out of obligation than care. The halls were pristine, the staff highly trained, and the resources endless. And yet, it still felt cold—quiet, clinical, unsettling in a way Megumi couldn’t shake.
Megumi had learned sign language to communicate with her, a skill that helped keep them connected, even if only in small ways. When he arrived, he signed, Hello.
Tsumiki blinked at him, her expression distant before she signed back, Who are you?
A quiet sigh escaped him, but he signed anyway, Your brother.
She studied him, her gaze searching but not quite recognizing, before her expression shifted. Want to see my drawings?
Megumi nodded, and she immediately brightened, grabbing her coloring book and flipping to a page she had finished. The colors were carefully within the lines, more precise than he had expected. As he watched her beam with pride, a familiar ache settled in his chest. He missed her—the way she used to be—but seeing her like this, content in her own way, was enough for now.
He signed, Are you eating properly?
Tsumiki shrugged but gave a small nod, not offering much else.
Are the people here treating you well?
Another nod.
After a brief pause, he signed, Do you want to play ping pong in the lobby?
Tsumiki considered it for a moment before shaking her head. Instead, she climbed onto her bed and started bouncing up and down.
"Hey," Megumi said, stepping forward instinctively.
She froze, her expression crumbling at the sudden interruption. Tears welled in her eyes before spilling over, and she started crying.
Panic flared in Megumi’s chest. He quickly signed, It’s okay, calm down, but it only made things worse.
Her cries grew louder, distress overtaking her. Within moments, the nurses arrived, stepping in with practiced ease. They soothed her, offering gentle reassurances until she settled, sniffling into a juice box while flipping absentmindedly through her drawings again.
Megumi sat quietly for a moment, watching her. When he finally signed, Goodbye, Tsumiki frowned at him, clearly unimpressed, but still waved.
Feeling the weight of disappointment settle over him, he turned and left.
Outside, he pulled out his phone and texted his driver. Then, after a beat, he texted Mai.
Finished with work?
Her reply came almost instantly. Yes.
Do you want me to pick you up, or do you have your driver?
Pick me up.
Megumi rolled his eyes at her immediate request but didn’t mind. He sent a quick instruction to his driver: Pick up Mai before heading home.
As soon as Mai slid into the car, she wasted no time, snapping, “Why the FUCK does the Zenin clan want a dinner meeting?”
Megumi blinked, momentarily caught off guard by her sudden outburst. He was used to it, though—it was just Mai being Mai. He stared at her for a moment, then replied, “I got the same message… Looks like it’s for both of us.”
Mai shot him a glare, clearly already fed up. “Great,” she muttered, eyes scanning the car like she was looking for an escape. She sighed dramatically, then turned to him. “Got any snacks?”
Megumi shrugged, gesturing lazily to the backseat. “There are chips the driver left.”
Mai wrinkled her nose, almost offended. “I can’t, I’ll get fat.”
Megumi rolled his eyes and, without missing a beat, grabbed a bag of pretzels and tossed a nugget right at her head. “Then stop complaining,” he said, barely hiding a smirk.
Mai kicked him in the leg. “You shouldn’t throw food at a girl.”
Megumi raised an eyebrow. “Your outfit makes you look like a clown.”
Mai smirked, unfazed. “This is literally my latest collection I designed at Louis Vuitton. You should be in awe that I’m letting you see it early.”
Megumi rolled his eyes and tossed another pretzel nugget at her, this time hitting her square in the forehead. She kicked him again, laughing now.
“Not everyone can dress like a man going through a mid-life crisis,” she teased, gesturing to his laid-back outfit.
Megumi scowled, but he didn’t back down. “It’s comfortable,” he grumbled. He studies her outfit more closely “Is that fur you're wearing fake?”
Mai snapped without missing a beat. “Of course, it is,” she shot back, voice dripping with sarcasm. "You think I'd support that animal cruelty shit?"
Megumi glanced at Mai, a small, genuine smile tugging at his lips. Despite everything, he was thankful to have a cousin like her to help him deal with the Zenin clan—and he was secretly relieved they would face whatever that dinner meeting had in store, together.
Mai made a face at Megumi as the car pulled up to the Zenin clan’s estate. They both fell silent, the banter from earlier dissipating in an instant. Megumi and Mai exchanged quick glances before seamlessly composing themselves. It was second nature now—one glance, and they both knew what was expected. They exited the car and headed in separate directions, each to their own section of the estate, essentially their own private apartments.
Megumi, feeling the weight of the evening, changed out of his work clothes and into the formal yukata. He tugged the fabric into place and sighed, feeling the familiar discomfort of clan duties settle back into his chest. When he stepped out of his room, he found Mai already dressed in her own yukata, looking every bit the part of someone who had grown accustomed to the clan’s rigid expectations.
Without a word, they walked in silence toward the formal dining hall, where Naobito Zenin was already waiting. His stern presence dominated the space as he sat at the head of the long, pristine table. The plates were already set, the food meticulously arranged as though to mirror the exacting standards of the Zenin clan itself.
Megumi settled into his seat across from Mai, glancing at her briefly before fixing his eyes on the man at the head of the table. Naobito didn’t acknowledge them beyond a brief nod, his face set in its usual grim expression.
The old man wasted no time in getting to the point. "You two are at the age to get married," Naobito began, his voice as cold and calculated as ever. "It's time to arrange something."
Megumi inwardly groaned, already feeling the weight of the conversation settling in. He glanced over at Mai, who straightened up slightly, her annoyance only partially hidden beneath a composed expression. Naobito slid one card to each of them, the thin piece of paper a heavy omen of what was to come.
Mai flipped her card first. Her eyes scanned it for a moment, then froze. She turned toward Naobito, a flicker of disbelief crossing her face. "Why is he 13 years older than me?" she asked, the sharp edge in her voice unmistakable.
Naobito didn’t even flinch. "At your age, you should be thankful that any man would want you."
Mai’s jaw tightened. "I'm only 27."
Naobito waved off her protest. "You're past the age that most men are interested in. Don't waste time questioning it."
Mai rolled her eyes, about to fire back, but Megumi caught her eye and mouthed "Calm down."
Mai’s frown deepened, but she nodded slightly, turning back to the card. "So why this guy?" she asked through clenched teeth.
Naobito smiled, a sharp, knowing smile. "He's currently the CEO of Kento Steel, the biggest manufacturer and exporter of steel in the country. He’s set to be one of the richest self-made entrepreneurs of this century."
Mai's eyes narrowed, and she stayed silent, but her discomfort was evident. Megumi, despite his own annoyance, found himself slightly curious. He shifted in his seat, waiting for the next card to be handed over. Mai read the card outloud, not hiding her disdain:
Kento Nanami, CEO of Kento Steel
Age: 40
Height: 6'0"
A no-nonsense, driven entrepreneur with a passion for precision and efficiency. Nanami is known for his methodical approach to both business and life. He values hard work and honesty above all else, and he has built Kento Steel into one of the most successful companies in Japan. He believes in maintaining a strong balance between his professional and personal life, finding time to enjoy quiet moments and his favorite pastime: reading. Nanami appreciates simplicity, order, and practicality. He dislikes unnecessary drama and values calm, rational conversation.
Likes: Reading, strong coffee, a good work ethic, stability.
Dislikes: Disorganization, inefficiency, excessive noise, overly emotional behavior.
By the end of the blurb, her voice was laced with disbelief. She shook her head. "I... don’t know what to say."
"That’s the man your future will revolve around," Naobito said, his tone sharp.
Megumi could see Mai’s irritation bubbling beneath the surface, but he knew better than to comment. Instead, he took a deep breath and braced himself for whatever Naobito had next.
Naobito slid another card across the table, this time toward Megumi. With a deep breath, Megumi took the card and flipped it over, only to find one single word written in neat, professional script: Itadori.
He frowned, his gaze flicking back to the card. He flipped it again, checking to see if he missed something, but no—nothing. Just that one name.
Confused, he turned toward Naobito. "It just says her name?"
Naobito’s face remained unreadable as he gave a slow nod. "They’re probably just shy and waiting to meet you tomorrow."
Megumi’s eyes widened. "Tomorrow?!"
Naobito nodded once more, his expression unchanged. "Both you and Mai will meet your betrotheds tomorrow at the tea house."
Megumi fought back a groan, exasperated, while Mai's face darkened, her hands balling into fists like she might throw something. Naobito continued on, unfazed by their reactions. "Proper clothes will be provided for the meeting."
Megumi stared at him, trying to keep his cool. "You never told me why this Itadori person was picked?"
Naobito’s lips twisted into a thin line. "The Minister of Defense, Sukuna Itadori, is their uncle. This alliance will benefit the family greatly."
Mai visibly cringed, her expression one of disgust.
Sukuna Itadori. Megumi’s stomach twisted at the thought of him. The man was infamous. The ruthless Minister of Defense had earned a reputation for being as calculating and violent as he was powerful. He was the kind of man who didn’t hesitate to use his authority to get what he wanted, and there were rumors that his hands were stained with the blood of his political rivals. The massacre of a rebel group that had stormed the parliament building was the most infamous act, and everyone knew it wasn’t just a coincidence that his rival had happened to be among the dead that day. Officially, the rebel group was responsible, but there were whispers that Sukuna had orchestrated it all.
Megumi sat in stunned silence, the weight of it all sinking in. He was about to be betrothed to a woman from that family. He would be linked to the Itadoris—especially to Sukuna—for the rest of his life. A militant family, cold and calculating, whose political maneuvering was beyond ruthless.
He could feel the bile rising in his throat.
"Great," he muttered under his breath. "Just what I needed."
Mai shot him a look, but even she couldn’t mask the apprehension in her eyes. It was one thing to be bound by the Zenin clan, but now they were both being forced into a web of alliances that seemed to promise nothing but trouble. Megumi wanted to scream. He wanted to throw up. Instead, he just sat there, numb, as Naobito droned on about the arrangements.
"Tomorrow, you’ll meet them," Naobito repeated, before standing up to leave. "Be on time. You both have a lot of responsibilities to handle."
Megumi lay back on his bed, staring up at the ceiling, the weight of the evening pressing down on him. At 26 years old, he found himself at the mercy of an arranged marriage to a woman he’d never met. And there was something else he hadn’t admitted to anyone—not even to himself, not fully. He wasn’t exactly straight. He liked women, yes, but… he also liked men. And, maybe, just maybe, he liked men more.
The thought gnawed at him, but in the end, it didn’t matter. He didn’t need to be with a man, not really. He wasn’t delusional. He would go through with this, and he wouldn’t be unhappy. But he wasn’t sure how to feel about the whole situation.
As the silence filled his apartment, Megumi clasped his hands together. He wasn’t particularly religious, but tonight, for the first time, he found himself praying—just a quiet, desperate plea.
"Please," he whispered, barely audible, "Let her be nice. Let her be normal. Let her have a strong personality, an unshakeable one. I can deal with anything else. Height, weight, whatever. Just… please let her be someone I can talk to."
For the first time in his life, Megumi prayed, hoping that something about this arranged situation might feel less like a suffocating obligation and more like something he could bear.
The door to his apartment slid open with a loud creak, and in walked Mai—her presence as loud as her entrance. She was standing there in her pajamas, a face mask still plastered on her face, glowering like the world had wronged her.
Megumi looked up from his bed, his dry tone unmistakable. "Nice look. I'm sure Nanami would love to see you like this."
Mai opened her mouth to fire back a sharp retort but froze, her eyes scanning the room quickly. She made sure nobody could overhear before she stormed over to Megumi, her face now serious, her voice barely a whisper.
"That’s it!" she said, her eyes wide with excitement.
Megumi blinked, thoroughly confused. He raised an eyebrow. "What?"
Mai grinned, practically bouncing on her heels with the same energy she had when she was planning her next big scandal. "It's simple," she said, leaning in with a mischievous glint in her eye. "We act like complete assholes tomorrow. I’ll be even more obnoxious than usual. You—" She pointed at him, her grin widening, "—you need to be so antisocial, I mean extra antisocial, more than you already are. Trust me, it’ll work."
Megumi frowned. "Thanks for the advice," he said dryly, "Really helpful."
Mai waved off his sarcasm like it was nothing. "It’s not a joke. This will work, you’ll see."
Megumi’s face twisted into a slight scowl. "At least you know a little about your ‘husband.’ I didn’t even get a first name! Just a last name—Itadori. That’s it! How am I supposed to prepare for that?"
Mai scoffed, dismissing his complaint with a quick flick of her hand. "Hush," she said, smacking him on the shoulder. "It doesn't matter. Who needs details when we can just blow everything up? Acting like total asshats will definitely break the engagement. Once they see how awful we are, they'll call it off and we can go free."
Megumi opened his mouth to argue but then paused, considering it for a moment. He thought about it—acting like a jerk for one evening could potentially fix this entire mess. He wasn’t exactly excited about pretending to be more of a pain than usual, but if it meant getting out of this nightmare, he could deal with it.
"And if that doesn’t work?" he asked, still hesitant.
Mai shrugged, her confidence unwavering. "Then we go full chaos mode. I’ll drag you down with me if I have to." She winked at him, completely unbothered.
Megumi rolled his eyes. "Great. So, we’re ruining our lives together. Fantastic."
Mai smirked. "You’ll thank me later."
Megumi sighed. "I’m sure I will."
The next morning, at the crack of dawn, Megumi was jolted awake by the sound of his apartment door sliding open. Three maids entered without hesitation, moving with practiced precision as they laid out an elaborate set of clothing on his futon—a kuromontsuki haori hakama, crisp and undeniably formal.
Megumi blinked at it, still groggy. "Why on earth would I wear this to a meeting?" he asked, voice laced with disbelief.
One of the maids, unfazed, bowed slightly. "These are the clan leader's orders."
Megumi groaned, running a hand through his hair. It wasn’t just formal—it was ceremonial. Something reserved for extreme formality, the kind of outfit that meant serious business. Begrudgingly, he got up and dressed, every layer feeling like another chain locking him into his fate. The clothes were stiff, pristine, and admittedly beautiful, but that didn’t make him feel any better.
When he stepped outside, still adjusting the unfamiliar weight of the attire, he nearly choked at the sight of Mai. She was standing there in a tomesode, a black kimono with family crests, traditionally worn by married women. The look on her face mirrored his own horror.
She caught his eye, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Are we getting married today?” she hissed under her breath.
Megumi exhaled sharply. “Wouldn’t put it past them.”
Without another word, they both climbed into the car waiting for them. The early morning light streamed through the windows as the vehicle pulled away from the estate, the quiet hum of the engine the only thing filling the tense silence.
Megumi turned his head slightly toward Mai and whispered, "It’s literally 8 AM. Who goes to a tea shop at this time?"
Mai didn’t even look at him, just whispered back, "Stick to the plan."
Megumi and Mai barely had a second to exchange a glance before they were ushered into separate private rooms. The sliding doors shut behind Megumi with a quiet thunk, leaving him alone in the softly lit space.
A low table sat in the center of the tatami-floored room, cushions neatly placed on either side. Megumi sighed, stepping forward and lowering himself onto one of the cushions with his back to the wall. He sat cross-legged, resting his elbow on the table, and leaned his head against the wooden panel behind him.
Please, he thought, sending out another desperate prayer. Let her be normal. Just—just normal. Please.
As if answering his prayer in the worst way possible, the door suddenly slid open—hesitantly, cautiously. Megumi immediately sat up, preparing himself to greet his supposed fiancée.
Instead, a guy stepped inside.
He was dressed in the most ridiculous outfit Megumi had ever seen for an arranged marriage meeting—an oversized hoodie with the hood pulled up tightly over his head, wide-legged jeans, sneakers, sunglasses, and a black face mask covering half his face. He looked like someone trying very badly to be inconspicuous.
The guy blinked at Megumi, then hurriedly said, “Oh, uh—my bad man, wrong room,” and just as quickly as he appeared, he turned on his heel and walked right back out.
Megumi just stared.
What…?
What kind of person gets the wrong room at a betrothal meeting? And more importantly, what kind of person shows up to their own engagement discussion dressed like that?
Megumi exhaled sharply and leaned his head against the wall again, trying to shake off what just happened. Poor woman, he thought vaguely, feeling sorry for whoever was supposed to marry that guy.
A minute passed.
Then, the door slid open again.
Megumi sat up straight, prepared this time. But when he saw who it was, he froze.
It was the same guy.
Megumi blinked, trying to make sense of it. The guy hesitated for a second before carefully sliding the door shut behind him. This time, he didn’t leave.
Instead, he reached up, pulled off his sunglasses, then tugged down his face mask and pushed back his hood, finally revealing his face.
Megumi barely registered the sharp jawline, the warm brown eyes, the tan skin, or the mess of pink hair before he heard the words that made his stomach drop.
“I was told this room was correct,” the guy said, offering a small, almost nervous smile.
Megumi just stared, then frowned "I'm waiting for my.. uh... fiance." Megumi was painfully aware of how awkward this sounded.
The mystery guy nodded. "Yeah, me too. I guess we're sharing a room to meet them."
Megumi nodded slowly, considering the odd arrangement.
The guy hesitated, studying Megumi with a worried expression. "Uh… do you recognize me?"
Megumi stared at him blankly. "No," he said coldly. "Why would I?"
The guy visibly relaxed, letting out a breath. "Ah, okay. Cool. I'm Yuuji."
Megumi gave a slow, disinterested nod, already wanting the conversation to end.
Yuuji looked at him for a second—then suddenly burst out laughing. "Dude, what the hell are you wearing?"
Megumi’s face burned. His scowl deepened. "It's a formal meeting. It makes sense to wear formal clothes."
Yuuji grinned. "No girl wants to meet a guy dressed like that." Before Megumi could respond, Yuuji gestured to his hoodie. "Here, wear this instead."
Megumi frowned, about to refuse, but Yuuji sat down beside him and turned his back. He pulled off his hoodie, revealing a tight compression shirt underneath—clearly for sports.
Across the back, in bold red letters, was a name.
ITADORI.
Megumi froze. His blood ran cold.
Itadori.
No way. There was no way the Zenin clan would—
Would they?
Before he could process it, Yuuji handed him the hoodie, then frowned as he realized Megumi’s outfit wouldn’t exactly work with it. "Ah, wait. I have spare gym pants in my car. I can grab them real quick if you want. There's a side entrance I used to sneak in without getting spotted." He grinned. "You can change before your bride comes in, so you don’t look so silly."
Megumi’s mouth was dry. He couldn’t even respond.
Yuuji stood, heading for the door, then turned back with a curious tilt of his head. "By the way, what's your name?"
Megumi tensed, struggling to answer.
Yuuji waved a hand. "Eh, don’t worry about it. I’ll learn it when I get back." He pulled his sunglasses and mask back on, then slipped out.
The second Yuuji’s footsteps faded, Megumi bolted.
He sprinted out of the room, phone in hand, frantically texting his driver. By the time he reached the main entrance, the car was already waiting.
"Sir, I was supposed to wait for—"
"Just drive," Megumi ordered, throwing himself into the backseat.
The driver hesitated but obeyed, peeling away from the tea house.
Megumi sat in silence, heart pounding. His fingers clutched something soft in his lap.
He looked down.
Yuuji’s hoodie.
Somehow, he had taken it with him.
Before anyone could stop him, Megumi bolted to his aparment, slammed the door shut, and locked it. He jumped on his bed, yanked open his laptop, fingers flying across the keyboard as he typed "Yuuji Itadori" at record-breaking speed. Within seconds, a Wikipedia page loaded on his screen.
Yuuji Itadori (born 20 March 1998) known professionally as Yuuji, is a Japanese professional boxer and Olympic gold medalist. Known for his explosive strength, unorthodox technique, and charismatic personality, he has become a dominant figure in modern boxing and a widely recognized public figure. As a two-time Olympic gold medalist in the light heavyweight division, Itadori is regarded as one of the most promising athletes of his generation. His success in the ring, combined with numerous high-profile endorsements, has solidified his status as a global sports icon. Itadori is also known for his lucrative endorsement deals, contributing to his impressive net worth, which places him among the wealthiest athletes in Japan. He is the nephew of Sukuna Itadori, Japan’s Minister of Defense
Megumi's heart was racing. No way. No way. No no no no no no no. He was panicking now. Yuuji Itadori. Yuuji. The famous Olympic gold medalist. Even Megumi knew his name, though he didn’t recognize his face—no surprise since he never paid attention to celebrities. Yuuji was a common enough name that it didn’t immediately click that the person in front of him could possibly be THE Yuuji. And suddenly Yuuji's strange attire made sense. That’s why he was wearing those sunglasses and the mask. That’s why he asked if Megumi knew who he was. He was worried he would get recognized. Megumi's mind was spinning. This was the absolute last thing he wanted. The absolute opposite of everything he had hoped for.
What now? What was he supposed to do? His thoughts were a whirlwind of panic and frustration. He stared down at the hoodie still clutched in his hands. Return it. He would return the hoodie. He'd explain the situation to Yuuji. Surely, the boxer would realize how ridiculous this all was. They would both agree that getting married to one another was absurd, and this whole engagement would be called off. Everyone could just go home, and he'd never have to deal with any of this again.
Megumi made a quick decision. He threw off the complicated, formal outfit he had been wearing, not just out of discomfort, but from the anger building inside him. He was going to find Yuuji Itadori, and he was going to put an end to this mess. He was going to find that overbearing, old man, Naobito Zenin, and ask him, why the FUCK he thought this whole ridiculous arrangement would ever be a good idea.
Megumi threw the hoodie into a bag, quickly swapping into his casual sweater, pants, and sneakers. With one final glance at the room, he grabbed his phone and texted his driver: Take me to back to the tea house. Now.