Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

To not have a cat in hell’s chance: (idiom) To be completely unable to achieve something. To have no chance at all.

Two weeks after his grandfather passes away, Yuuji adopts a cat.

Admittedly, it wasn’t a decision he’d put much thought into at the time. But then he’d come back to his tiny apartment one day, exhausted from cram school, and opened the door to see: Piles of unwashed dishes in the sink. Dirty laundry scattered all over the floor. On the table, stacks of envelopes containing all of his late grandfather’s medical bills. And in that moment he’d been overcome with a crushing loneliness so suffocating it stole the very breath from his lungs.

He goes to a nearby animal shelter the next day.

A cat would be nice, Yuuji thinks. Dogs are great too, but he doubts his landlord would let him keep one due to how small his place is. Plus, they’re more expensive, both to buy and to care for. And really, Yuuji is fine with any pet so long as they can liven up his dreary apartment.

He explains all of this to the young man behind the counter, who then proceeds to lead him into a side room labeled ‘Cats Only’. They walk down aisle after aisle, the volunteer offering suggestions every once in a while, but Yuuji’s heart isn’t in it somehow. There’s always something a little off about each cat—too young, too overweight, requires too much attention, sheds too much, and so on. Yuuji is just about to thank the man for his time and search elsewhere when, from his vision’s periphery, he sees it.

There, in a shadowed corner, at the very last cage in the entire room, sits a large, regal cat. It’s sprawled over the whole length of its container, like a king reclining upon his throne. Black markings line its cheeks and legs. Its ruby red eyes are piercing and intelligent. Truly, a wonderous and majestic creature whose every pore radiated an aura of refined magnificence.

But, more importantly, it’s pink. The same shade of pink as Yuuji’s hair.

If this isn’t a sign from God, Yuuji doesn’t know what is.

"Hey, what about that cat over there?" he asks, making his way over.

"Oh, that’s Sukuna," the volunteer says, apprehension clear in his voice as he trails behind Yuuji. “I don’t think you’ll want him. There are plenty of other cats around I haven’t shown you yet—"

"But what’s wrong with this one?" Yuuji interjects.

"Ah. Er." More nervous wringing of hands. "Well, he’s not very well-behaved. And, and he’s old! Very old. Yes, in fact, there are even rumors that he’s a demonic cat older than the shelter itself—"

"Aww, I don’t think he’s that bad. Right, Sukuna?" Yuuji beams at the cat, who has now noticed the unwanted presence of two scummy humans before it and is growling from behind the metal bars of its cage. Unphased, Yuuji turns back to the man sweating profusely beside him. "Hey, do you think you can open the door for me? I want to try holding him."

The volunteer goes as pale as a sheet, hands Yuuji the keys, and walks away without another word. Yuuji can only stare at the man’s retreating back, nonplussed.

"Oookay, that was weird." Regardless, Yuuji has never been one to let a little weirdness ruin his day. He unlocks the cage door and reaches inside to scoop Sukuna up, ignoring its fervent struggling all the while. "So, what do you say, Sukuna?" he coos down at the cat screaming bloody murder in his arms. "Do you want to be pink hair buddies with me?"

In response, Sukuna hisses and swipes its claws up in an attempt to scratch Yuuji’s eyes out.

"…Alright, I’ll take that as a yes."

The actual adoption process goes by pretty smoothly, aside from the part where the volunteer suffers a minor heart attack when he hears that Yuuji does, in fact, want to adopt Sukuna. Even the manager of the shelter drops by with reassurances that there are other cats here who are more deserving of a loving home, sir, won’t you please reconsider?

But Yuuji’s already made up his mind. Surely all this poor cat needs is a little love and care, and then it’ll be right as rain. All animals are like that, right? Sukuna will be great, Yuuji is sure of it.

---

Life with Sukuna is an absolute nightmare.

From the second Yuuji had set the cat carrier down, Sukuna seemed bent on making his every waking moment a living hell with single-minded determination. It sped off like a furry pink missile, set on obliterating everything in its path and leaving mass destruction in its wake. No stone was left unturned. No piece of furniture left unmarked, no article of clothing left untouched. Yuuji’s apartment had always been quite messy—as was expected of any teenage boy living without adult supervision—but this level of disarray was on a whole new level.

"You’re lucky my broke ass could never afford furniture expensive enough for me to get upset over," Yuuji tells the cat lounging over his kitchen counter, worn out after its latest reign of terror. Sukuna only stares back at him, unimpressed, and reaches over to knock yet another one of Yuuji’s mugs onto the floor.

Yuuji sighs deeply, counts backwards from ten, and starts picking up after the broken pieces of his ravaged home.  

Kitty-proofing his apartment and figuring out how to navigate life with Sukuna becomes quite the learning experience. The cat seems interested only in Yuuji’s belongings and never spares a glance at any of the cat toys he’d so painstakingly bought for it. It also hates receiving affection but will yowl to the high heavens if Yuuji leaves it alone for too long. And it eats only from a specific luxury brand of cat food that's pricier than an entire week’s worth of Yuuji’s convenience store bentos. Truly, there is just no winning with this cat.  

("I know what you’re trying to do, Sukuna," Yuuji declared, after the third time Sukuna had broken into his pantry and raided his precious supply of tuna-mayo onigiri, "but I’m not going to return you to the shelter. Got it? Pink hair buddies don’t abandon each other. We’re ride or die now."

And so, Sukuna stayed on.)

On the bright side, Yuuji’s hygienic practices have never been better. He no longer leaves his clothes lying around and cleans up after himself after he eats. Any item in possible danger of being mauled via monster cat has now been stored safely behind lock and key. Mainly out of necessity, but hey, any progress to becoming a functional adult is good progress. And it’s nice to come back to someone at the end of the day, even if that someone is a crazy cat spawned from the deepest pits of Hell.

Time slowly passes this way for months, and before Yuuji knows it, he’s already a high school graduate, ready to enter society as a proper adult. Going to university is out of the question, so he starts looking up job listings wherever he can. For years, he works several odd jobs: as a construction worker, a waiter, a cinema cashier, a delivery man, and—in one particularly memorable stint—a host at a gay bar. Eventually, though, he manages to land himself the position of an apprentice at a physiotherapy rehabilitation center. His bosses even end up liking him so much that they’re willing to send him for night classes so that he can get a degree and work for them as a full-time professional.

In short, life’s going pretty great. He’s made a lot of friends over the years through his various jobs. He has a stable career he enjoys. And he’s helping other people out, like he promised his grandfather he would.

(And if, sometimes, he still feels a little lonely at night, when there’s no one around and there’s nothing to listen to but the sound of his own breathing—well, that’s okay. He’s already been blessed with so much. There really is nothing more he could ever ask for.)

---

Actually, scratch that.

If there is one thing Yuuji could ask for, it’d be that Sukuna maybe take a chill pill. Or ten.

Now, Yuuji’s no animal expert, but he understands that different animals have different temperaments and different needs. He’s also fairly certain that whatever Sukuna is doing, is probably not normal cat behavior.

It’s probably not normal that Sukuna has sent at least ten vets running home in tears. It’s definitely not normal that Sukuna is so infamous among members of the veterinarian community that they’ve blacklisted it (and by extension, Yuuji) from every animal clinic within a fifty-kilometer radius. Add in the fact that Sukuna hasn’t appeared to have aged at all in the eight years Yuuji has owned it and, well. There might be some truth to the whole 'Sukuna is actually an immortal demon trapped in a cat’s body' theory after all.

Luckily for Yuuji though, there is one animal clinic willing to take Sukuna in. Granted, that’s most likely because the clinic is as shady as Sukuna itself, but beggars can’t be choosers.

Jujutsu Clinic sits at the very edge of the city, in a forested area far enough away from the mainland that rumors of Itadori Yuuji’s Fabled Hellcat haven’t reached them yet. The head vet, Yaga Masamichi, is a leading researcher on animal prosthetics, renowned and respected in his field. He also owns a walking, talking panda animatronic who serves as the clinic’s unofficial mascot. The cafeteria chef working there is so dedicated to his craft that Yuuji’s only ever heard him speak in onigiri fillings.

It’s all just really fucking weird.

But the clinic’s crowning glory in the weirdo department is undeniably one Gojo Satoru, who not-so-coincidentally also happens to be Sukuna’s vet. He remains, to this day, the only vet Yuuji knows who hasn’t developed a debilitating case of PTSD upon encountering Sukuna. Yuuji thinks part of it might be because he’s always working blindfolded, for whatever reason, but Sukuna hasn’t died yet under his care, so Yuuji supposes that’s deserving of some credit.

("Do you really perform surgery with that thing on?" Yuuji asked him, the day they first met.

"Now, now, Yuuji, what kind of doctor tells his clients all of his trade secrets?"

"…A normal one?" Yuuji replied, unsure where this was going.

"Well, lucky for you, I am absolutely not normal!" Gojo placed his hand on Yuuji’s shoulder in a gesture that was probably meant to be comforting, but was most definitely not. "Don’t worry, your cat is in good hands!")

But, true to his word, Gojo does take good care of Sukuna. Perhaps a little too good, considering how rambunctious the cat still is in its old age.

Which is why it comes as a surprise to Yuuji when he realizes one morning that Sukuna is acting more subdued than usual. On a normal day, the cat would’ve already been up to its usual chaos, running about and scratching whatever furniture it could get its grubby little paws on. But today it seems…quieter somehow, making itself scarce and hiding by Yuuji’s windowsill. When he comes back from work later in the evening and finds Sukuna still there, unmoving, Yuuji is concerned enough that he calls Gojo up despite the late hour.

"Gojo-sensei?" he says as soon as the other man picks up. "Hi, sorry to call so late, but do you think I could arrange for an appointment with you soon? Sukuna doesn’t seem to be feeling well, and I’m a little worried about him."

There’s a thoughtful hum from down the line. "Hm... Does it look urgent? Can you see any injuries or think of anything in the past few days which could’ve caused this?"

Yuuji thinks hard to reflect on this. "No, nothing in particular. But he seemed really sluggish today and didn’t eat much of the food I left out for him this morning."

"Great!" Gojo chirps, sounding far too chipper for the situation at hand. "I’m fully booked tomorrow, so why don’t you come in the day after? And if something urgent comes up before then we can always get Ijichi to look at him for you in the meantime."

Yuuji makes a mental note not to go unless absolutely necessary. The poor man has already been traumatized enough by his cat, thank you very much.

"Alright, I’ll see you soon, then. Thanks and goodnight, Gojo-sensei."

"Oh, I’m sure you will." There’s something rather ominous about Gojo’s tone, but Yuuji can’t quite put his finger on why. "Night, night!"

And then the line goes dead. Yuuji stares at the phone in his hand for a solid minute, trying to process what the hell just happened, before sighing and returning the phone to its socket. There are matters more pressing to deal with right now than figuring out the meaning behind Gojo’s patented brand of cryptic bullshit.

Slowly, so as not to startle the cat, Yuuji reaches over to pet Sukuna, fingers stroking lightly over glossy pink fur. Sukuna hisses and bites at the offending hand, but Yuuji can tell the attempt is lacking in its usual ferocity. His heart clenches with anxiety.

"Hey, buddy," he coos as he gently picks Sukuna up and carries it into his bedroom, "what do you say to sleeping early tonight? I know you’re not feeling your best right now, but that’s all going to change after we bring you to the vet’s, okay?"

The cat in his arms shuffles closer, seeking comfort, and buries its face into the soft fabric of his hoodie. Yuuji smiles and rubs a broad palm down Sukuna’s back, holding it tighter against his chest. "So even you can be cute sometimes, huh? Don’t worry, Sukuna, everything will be just fine."

A flick of the switch and the lights go out, enveloping his room in darkness.

"You’ll see. Gojo-sensei will fix you right up."

"What do you mean he’s not here today?"

Yuuji knows he’s making quite the unsightly racket with all of his yelling and flailing, but come on.

"I was just on the phone with him two days ago! He was the one who told me to come in today!"

Yaga and Ijichi stand before him with matching contrite expressions on their faces. Or at least, Yuuji assumes so. The sunglasses are admittedly making Yaga’s expression rather difficult to decipher.

(Come to think of it, why do so many people in this damn clinic wear some kind of eye gear indoors, anyway? The lighting here isn’t so bright. Is this the latest hot trend among veterinarians? What kind of fashion statement even is this?)

"Th-That may have been the case, but he’s…well, I’m afraid he’s just not here at the moment," Ijichi stammers, adjusting his spectacles sheepishly.

Yuuji cannot believe this. "Then where is he?"

"Hawaii."

There is so much to unpack here that Yuuji doesn’t even know where to begin.

But Yaga presses on, oblivious to his plight. "To be more accurate, he’s on a plane to Hawaii. Right now. With his husband. For their wedding anniversary."

"Oh." Yuuji hadn’t even known that Gojo was married. "That’s…uh, nice, I guess? But why couldn’t he have told me all this before?"

"No one knew," Ijichi assures him. "Gojo-san sent in his leave of absence—"

"Five minutes before his shift."

"—Five minutes before his shift started, and by then there was nothing we could do about it," Ijichi finishes. "We truly are very sorry for the trouble we’ve caused you, Itadori-kun."

"Wait, hang on a second. If he’s flying off for his anniversary, then shouldn’t you guys have known in advance that this was going to happen and planned around it somehow?"

And now Yaga is starting to look a little annoyed himself. "The date of Satoru’s ‘wedding anniversary’ changes every year."

"Uh, what."

"Last year it was in December, and two years ago it was in March," Ijichi explains. "They’re more than likely not for his actual anniversary and we’re not sure why he keeps referring to them as such, but he does still have a few days left of paid leave this year. Therefore, it is technically in his right to go on vacation, even if the way he went about it was wrong and improper."

The underlying statement that ‘Gojo Satoru may be an absolute trash-heap of a human being, but he’s too damn good at his job for us to fire him’ goes unsaid but is implicitly understood by all.

And Yuuji does understand this. Really, he does. But…

"I already took leave this afternoon because Gojo-sensei said he’d be free to check on Sukuna today…" Yuuji says, desperation and distress bleeding into his voice despite his valiant efforts to stay calm. "And I can’t wait that long for him to come back! Sukuna could be dying right now!" He shoves the cat carrier in Ijichi’s face. "Please help us, Ijichi-san! Gojo-sensei told me that you could look at him if anything went wrong!"

Sukuna thrashes inside its carrier. Ijichi takes a hasty step back.

"It is not Kiyotaka’s responsibility to make up for Satoru’s mistakes," Yaga says firmly, planting himself between both men. "However, we were able to find a substitute vet who was willing to take over for Satoru while he is gone. You can see him instead."

"Will it really be okay? I mean, Sukuna can be a lot to handle."

"Satoru was the one who made the recommendation to us, and I trust his professional judgment, if nothing else."  

"I’m sure that the new vet is plenty capable," Ijichi pipes up from behind Yaga’s hulking form, rejuvenated upon hearing that he won’t be in charge of treating Yuuji’s cat after all. "His resumé was very impressive for someone so young. Who knows, you might even end up liking him more than Gojo-san!"

Not a high bar to meet, given their current circumstances.

"Well, if that’s what you think is best..."

"Perfect!" Ijichi beams. "Now, please follow me, Itadori-kun. I’ll take you right to him."

The walk down to Gojo’s examination room is familiar. Ijichi raps his knuckles lightly against the door upon arrival to make their presence known.

"Pardon the intrusion," Ijichi says. "Your client is here."

A muffled voice calls out from the other side, "Please come in."

So Yuuji does, opening the door with a bright grin and a cheerful, "Thanks for having me!", ready to make a good first impression—

(How could he have known, at the time, that this would be the one moment to seal his fate? To spell out his demise?

After all, those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it.)

—And comes face to face with Fushiguro Megumi again for the first time in seven years.

(The thing is, anyone who’s ever had the pleasure of speaking with Yuuji would learn, within five minutes of meeting him, about how much he loved watching movies and admired Jennifer Lawrence. Another ten minutes in and they’d learn that he’d spent the entirety of his high school career pining after a black-haired, blue-eyed beauty named Fushiguro Megumi.

Because it was a good icebreaker, see, to laugh about these kinds of things. To joke self-deprecatingly about dashed dreams and the perils of youthful naiveté. Reminisce over old, unrequited high school crushes that never went anywhere—because he was head-over-heels in love with someone so out of his league they were practically universes apart—and that would never lead to anything—because they’d parted ways seven years ago, moved on from each other’s lives, never to cross paths again.

…At least, until now.)

Yuuji is not freaking out.

Absolutely not.

Holy shit, it’s Fushiguro. But why is he here? What is he even doing in a place like this? It’s been so long, what if he doesn’t remember me?

And then, an even worse thought occurs to him, Oh god, what if he does?

…Okay, so he might be freaking out a little.

But who could blame him? From the instant Yuuji had laid eyes on him, all the memories he had—of each and every second he’d spent hopelessly enamored by Fushiguro—flashed through his mind like the film reel of a bad romcom played in slow motion. Three years he’d pined for this guy. That’s a whole one thousand and ninety-five days’ worth of gross, mushy teen feelings to account for. More, if one counts all the times after, when Yuuji’s thoughts would inevitably stray back to the only person who’d ever captivated him so readily in the past.

(In actuality, Yuuji had only ever interacted with Fushiguro a grand total of twice before graduating, and neither occasion had been particularly flattering for his image.

The first instance occurred when Fushiguro had come across the Supernatural Club during his hall monitor rounds, right as Yuuji was about to eat something gross on a dare, and consequently busted all of their asses so hard they were sent to detention for a week.

The second was after their graduation ceremony, when Yuuji had all but dragged Fushiguro outside the school building; pinned him against the wall to profess his undying love in a scenario that would make any shoujo mangaka weep tears of joy; chickened out last minute; spouted some random bullshit line about living a full life out of sheer panic; and then bolted right the fuck out of there before the other could say a word.

So, yeah. Nothing that gave Fushiguro the impression that he was anything but a massive tool, probably.)

"Itadori-san," Fushiguro’s voice snaps him out of his spiraling thoughts. "Please have a seat."

"O-Of course, Fushiguro…sensei?" Yuuji isn’t sure what the right protocol here is. They’re technically the same age, but Fushiguro’s the one in the doctor’s seat, not him.

"Just Fushiguro is fine."

"Okay. Fushiguro it is, then. And, uh, just Itadori is fine too."

"Alright."

A beat of excruciating silence passes between them, broken only when Fushiguro fidgets and clears his throat. "And how can I help you today, Itadori?"

Right, the reason for his coming here in the first place. Yuuji shifts to sit down in the guest’s chair and places the cat carrier on his lap. "So, I think there’s something wrong with my cat—"

He freezes.

His cat.

His cat, Sukuna, the homicidal hellion who by name alone could strike fear into the hearts of veterinarians far and wide. Sukuna, who is surely going to send Fushiguro home crying and ruin all of Yuuji’s (already nonexistent) chances of ever getting the other man to like him—

Unaware of Yuuji’s current mental crisis, Fushiguro moves closer to examine the carrier, his hands deftly working to unlatch its door. From within the confines of its cage, Sukuna crouches in an offensive position, poised to strike at the next unsuspecting victim foolish enough to dare sully its sacred domain—

"Fushiguro, wait!"

—And does absolutely nothing.

What the fuck.

Startled, Fushiguro flinches back, looking apologetic. "Sorry. I shouldn’t have touched your pet without asking for permission first."

"N-No, that’s not it. I swear, he’s actually super dangerous—"

But as if to contest Yuuji’s statements, Sukuna merely nudges its nose against Fushiguro’s open palm in an affectionate gesture, all the while producing a rumbling sound so foreign to Yuuji’s ears it takes him a hot second to figure out what it is.

Purring.

What. The. Fuck.

Sukuna, purring! Yuuji hadn’t even known that Sukuna was capable of producing any noise beyond demonic screeching, quite frankly.

"I don’t see what the problem is here," Fushiguro says, wary. "Your cat is very well-behaved," he adds, casually dropping six words Yuuji never expected to hear in tandem during his lifetime.

"Uh, he’s not usually like this. No, really," Yuuji stresses upon seeing Fushiguro’s dubious expression. "This is the first time I’ve seen Sukuna not attempt to murder anyone on sight."

"…Is that so?"

Sukuna, the traitorous bastard, only purrs louder and flops over like a docile little lamb, the very picture of innocence itself.

Damn that cat for ruining his credibility like this.

"Well, it appears to be behaving properly now," Fushiguro remarks as he lifts Sukuna out of its carrier and onto the examination table, oblivious to what a momentous occasion this actually is. "Now, can you recount to me everything that seems out of the ordinary in regards to your cat as of late? Every small detail helps."

Yuuji does so, almost on autopilot, as he observes Fushiguro at work, puttering about as he inspects Sukuna and measures its vitals. The years have treated him well, Yuuji notices. He’d always been so, so beautiful, and still is—all delicate features set on a pale, finely-boned face framed by sable locks; a gorgeous dichotomy of light and shadow—but there’s also a new maturity in the way he carries himself that had been lacking before. He’s taller now. A little broader. Still somewhat reserved, but in a way that spoke of quiet confidence rather than his past surly indifference.

(He’s changed, yes, but he’s still the same person Yuuji had fallen for ten years ago, through and through. Yuuji aches, just looking at him.)

After the examination, Fushiguro returns to his seat to write a few things down on his clipboard. He stares off into space for some time, lost in thought, before facing Yuuji to ask, "Have you ever fed your cat any raw meat?"

"What? Of course not," Yuuji says, taken aback by the odd question and honestly rather offended at the very notion because Sukuna eats better than he does, most days.

"Then how about hunting prey? Does he often do that?"

"I mean, there are mice in the apartment sometimes," Yuuji admits, self-conscious about his less-than-ideal living conditions. "And yeah, Sukuna does catch them from time to time. But I’ve never seen him actually eat them or anything."

Nevertheless, this seems to be all Fushiguro needed to hear because he nods once, decisively, and says, "Toxoplasmosis."

Yuuji stares. "Toxo-what now?"

"Toxoplasmosis," Fushiguro reiterates without missing a beat. "It’s an intestinal parasite that's capable of infecting a cat’s digestive tract when it ingests raw meat or infected prey. You said your cat sometimes catches mice in your apartment, right? That’s most likely where he got it from."

"I see… Um, is there anything I can do for him?"

"I’m going to prescribe some antibiotics to help alleviate the symptoms, but he should get better on his own in a few days. Still, many cats don’t show any overt signs of the disease at all, so it’s commendable that you were able to catch onto it in its early stages." He’s smiling when he hands Sukuna back over to Yuuji. "You must really care about your cat, Itadori."

Oh, great. Yuuji knows, by the prickling warmth on his face, that he’s blushing to the roots of his hair right now. "Th-Thank you?"

Fushiguro hums and scribbles more notes down onto his clipboard. "By the way, I’d advise for you to be extra careful with Sukuna for the next couple of weeks. The parasite tends to shed its oocysts—that is, its eggs—into the host’s digestive tract, which in turn are later then dispelled through its feces. People can contract toxoplasmosis this way too, so try to use disposable gloves when handling his litter and wash your hands thoroughly afterwards. Oh, and change his litter daily too, if possible."

Honestly, Yuuji caught only about half of what he said, but… "So, I just have to be careful in cleaning up after him, but otherwise he’s safe to touch?"

"That’s right. The parasite should flush itself out of his system in two weeks, give or take, but you can bring him back here for a follow-up examination after that if you’re still concerned about him."

"Oh god, that is such a relief to hear." He can’t help his large grin or the way his hand moves to clap at Fushiguro’s shoulder in a companionable gesture. "Thank you so much, Fushiguro!"

"O-Of course," the other man returns, looking stunned.

Crap, he’d probably laid it on too thick, didn’t he? Yuuji drops his hand as if burned. "Whoops, sorry about that! I keep forgetting that I’m not supposed to be so touchy-feely around other people," he says sheepishly. "But I really am thankful for your help. I was super worried when they told me that Gojo-sensei wasn’t around this morning to look at Sukuna for me."

"Don’t mention it." There’s something almost defensive about Fushiguro’s words, and his eyes are averted when he speaks. Weird. "I owed Gojo-sensei a favor anyway."

"Even so, I’m glad it was you."

Oookay, and that’s his cue to get the hell out of here before he gets the chance to embarrass himself any further. He herds Sukuna back into its carrier, the cat uncharacteristically compliant for once, and makes a hasty beeline to the door. "Thanks again for everything!"

"Wait, Itadori—"

Yuuji halts midstride and turns around, heart thumping out of his chest.

Fushiguro looks…conflicted, for lack of a better word. He immediately withdraws into himself when he notices Yuuji’s expectant gaze on him. "No, it’s nothing. Never mind."

Disappointment rises in the back of Yuuji’s throat like bile, but he forces himself to smile through it. He can at least be honest about one thing, if nothing else. "It was nice meeting you again like this, Fushiguro. I’m glad to see that you’re doing well."

Fushiguro blinks, seemingly caught off guard, but then his features melt into a warm smile of his own. "Yes, likewise. Have a good day, Itadori."

"Yeah, you too."

And then Yuuji closes the door behind him, walks away from Fushiguro for the second time in his life, and wonders why it never gets any less painful doing so.

---

Yuuji makes it exactly fifteen steps out of the clinic’s entrance before he has to duck behind a nearby bush to suffer his long-overdue nervous breakdown while Sukuna stares judgmentally at him from within its carrier. All in all, not one of his prouder moments, that’s for sure. With shaking hands, he picks his phone up and, by some miracle, manages to type in a number he’s dialed so often in the past it’s ingrained to his muscle memory by now.

In times like this, there’s only one person he can trust with his fragile mental state.

"Junpei!"

"Yuuji?" his friend’s voice calls back out in concern. "Hey, what’s the matter? Is something wrong?"

"I saw him today, Junpei!” he half-whispers, half-hyperventilates into his phone. "I saw Fushiguro!"

"Fushiguro? That Fushiguro Megumi guy you’re always going on about?" A pause. "Wait, he’s real?"

Yuuji’s jaw drops in outrage. This utter betrayal. Unforgivable. "I’m having a crisis and that’s all you can say?! Yes, he’s real, he just diagnosed my cat with intestinal parasites!"

A longer, significantly more confused pause. "Okay, you’re going to have to back up a little here because I have no idea what the hell you’re talking about."

And so Yuuji recounts the last two days in painstaking detail—starting with Sukuna’s strange behavior, to Gojo’s flaky ass bailing out on their appointment, and then to his disastrous meeting with Fushiguro. This is Junpei he’s talking to, after all. His favorite, most frequent customer while he was still working at the cinema, turned close friend and trusted confidant. They’ve stuck together through thick and thin, through good movies and bad movies and everything in between. Yuuji has lost count of the number of times they’ve stayed up crying into the wee hours of the night together over nonsensical plot twists and contrived romantic subplots. There are absolutely no boundaries left in their friendship, no secrets at all to hide.

When all has been said and done, there is a weighted silence on Junpei’s end. Then, "Honestly, I’d always assumed that this Fushiguro guy was some kind of euphemism for an abstract concept rather than an actual living, breathing person. Either that, or a figment of your imagination."

"What? Why would you even think that? He’s perfect."

"And that’s the exact reason why," Junpei groans. "You kept making him out to be such a shining pinnacle of humanity, it was really hard to believe someone so amazing could actually exist."

Alright, so Yuuji is willing to admit that he might be a little biased when it came to anything Fushiguro-related, but now is hardly an appropriate time for Junpei to be throwing shade at him like this. "Yeah, well, he definitely exists, okay? I know this because I made a complete fool out of myself in front of him half an hour ago."

Junpei sighs. "Come on, I’m sure it wasn't as bad as you’re making it out to be. It sounded like he remembered you too, at least. And he seemed pretty nice about everything, so that’s good news, right?"

"I guess… He’s changed since I last saw him."

"Yeah? How?"

"He uses a lot of big words now," Yuuji sniffles. "It was really sexy."

This time the pause is so long and drawn-out that Yuuji can almost feel Junpei’s disapproval radiating from the other end.

"Alright, enough is enough."

Strike one.

Uh-oh. Yuuji is intimately familiar with this tone of voice and what it entails.

"You are clearly in need of an intervention, but I also know that I am not the right person to stage it."

Strike two.

"Junpei, wait, I really don’t think this is necessary—"

"No, Yuuji, I’m doing this for your own sake."

Aaand strike three, the final bombshell.

"I’m calling Nobara."

Yuuji’s friendship with Nobara had always felt like an ongoing study on the concept of polarities. It’s simultaneously one of the best and the worst things to have ever happened to him, and was equal parts stable and turbulent in its nature. They’d have their moments of being so frustrated with each other that they couldn’t bear to be in the same vicinity, but there was also no one Yuuji trusted more in times of great difficulty than Nobara and vice versa. Junpei theorized that it was because they were basically two peas in a pod sharing the same brain cell, but Yuuji begged to differ.

He’d met Nobara many years ago while working the same part-time job at a restaurant bussing tables. There was an instant connection between them, being the two youngest employees around at the time, and they’d built an easy friendship over roasting rude customers behind their backs together. They shared a bond only those who’ve partnered up working overtime mopping down toilet stalls ‘til late into the night could share. What they had between them was real.

Nobara had also been his girlfriend once. Sort of. For half a day. On a date that lasted less than an hour before Nobara had declared that she was definitively not attracted to men. To this day Yuuji wonders if he should’ve been more offended by the whole debacle, but then she’d bought him some apology takoyaki on their way home and all had been forgiven.

Definitely one of his weirder friendships, but also one of his most treasured.

He’s starting to think he might need to reassess his prior statement though, when he comes home—physically and mentally weary after the emotional rollercoaster that was his last few hours—and finds Nobara making a mess out of his kitchen.

"What took you so long, loser?" she says when she sees him walk in, brandishing his own spatula at him. "We’ve been waiting for almost an hour!"

From the dining table, a bespectacled young woman waves her hand at him in greeting. Ah, that explains the ‘we’. "Hello, Yuuji. It’s been a while."

"Maki-san, hey," he returns perfunctorily, before frowning down at Nobara. "I never said you could let yourself in."

"You lost that right when you gave me the spare key to your place all those years ago," Nobara says, unapologetic. "Anyway, I didn’t know when you were coming back, so I made dinner for us to share. Put your stuff down and come eat with us."

Yuuji has to admit, the prospect of a warm, homecooked meal does sound fantastic after such a hectic afternoon. He supposes he can forgive her for breaking and entering just this once. "Yeah, alright. Thanks, Nobara."

He goes into his room to let Sukuna out of its carrier and put his jacket away before coming out to join Maki at the table. "It’s rare to see you in this part of town, Maki-san. Did you have business here?"

"You could say that," she says, smiling wryly. “Nobara originally invited me out for dinner tonight, but she got a call not long after we met up and changed her mind. I figured I may as well come along, seeing as I was already here and had no other plans for the evening.”

Great. Now Yuuji can add third-wheeling and homewrecking to his growing list of offenses. This is an all-new low, even for him. "I am so, so sorry. I had no idea… I told Junpei this all wasn’t necessary—"

"Shut up and accept our friendship, Yuuji," Nobara demands, walking over with three plates of fried rice. "Maki-san and I can have our date any other time, but Junpei made it clear this was urgent. Said you were freaking out about something and needed an intervention, but wouldn’t tell me why." She spreads her arms wide in a magnanimous gesture incongruous with her leering smirk. "And so, here I am, intervening. Hold your applause, please. You can thank me later with an all-expenses-paid shopping trip to Harajuku instead."

Ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous.

Yuuji loves her so much. 

He stuffs a spoonful of rice into his mouth to hide the fact that he’s seconds away from bawling his eyes out. It’s clear by Maki’s and Nobara’s exasperated but fond smiles that they’re totally onto him, but whatever. It’s been a long day. He deserves this.

"So, are we ever going to hear about what got your panties into a twist or what?" says Nobara, partway through the meal. "I can’t help you out if I don’t even know what the problem is to begin with."

Yuuji gives her A Look. "It’s about him."

Nobara’s eyes widen in understanding. "Oh, him."

(Ever since their attempt at dating gone laughably awry, Nobara had taken it upon herself to meddle with Yuuji’s romantic affairs…or lack thereof. She’d heard everything there was to hear regarding his pitiful infatuation over Fushiguro and therefore knew a frankly disturbing amount of information about a man she’d never met in person before.

They’d also made a tacit agreement around the time when Nobara had started pursuing Maki that they were never going to bring Fushiguro’s name up around her in conversation. Ever.

Zen’in Maki hailed from a long line of prestigious doctors, from a wealthy family so revered their last name was practically synonymous with royalty. She was all sorts of cool and tough and amazing and intimidating—Nobara’s words, not his—and definitely didn’t deserve to hear about how Yuuji had spent approximately ten years of his life pining after a guy who didn’t even know he existed.

"Maki-san’s too cool to be bogged down by your pathetic boy troubles," Nobara had said. And there hadn’t been much to argue in the face of such irrefutable logic, so Yuuji had agreed, and that had been that.)

"Who is this…‘him’ you're talking about?" Maki asks, eyes bright with curiosity.

Well, looks like the cat’s out of the bag now.

"It’s uh, this guy who I had a crush on in high school," Yuuji explains, while also trying to keep things as vague as possible. "I saw him today. He was working at the animal clinic I go to."

Nobara balks. "You saw Fushiguro at the vet’s?"

"Yeah, but—"

"Hold on," Maki interrupts. There’s something distinctly predatory about her expression. "A vet named Fushiguro… Do you mean Fushiguro Megumi? Spiky black hair, about this tall—"

"—Crazy long lashes, killer jawline, eyes the color of uncut sapphires?" Yuuji finishes before his brain can catch up to his mouth. Maki just stares at him, spectacularly unimpressed, while Nobara grins with unholy glee.

Ah, shit.

Yuuji’s first instinct is to backpedal, but then he realizes, "Wait, you know him?"

"Know him?" Maki scoffs. "He’s my nephew."

If Yuuji’s life were a bad American sitcom, now would be the perfect time to play a record scratch. Maybe a cheesy laugh track. Unfortunately for him, however, the only accompaniment he gets to this devastating truth bomb is the sound of his own wheezing and Nobara’s obnoxiously ear-splitting shriek.

"Whaaat?!"

"Nobara, shush!" he hisses because fuck, that was loud, and his neighbors already complain enough about the noise levels in his apartment as it is. Then his brain finally manages to process what Maki had just revealed, and he does a double-take. "You’re related to Fushiguro?"

"Paternally, yes. Megumi’s father is my cousin."

"B-But you guys don’t even share the same last name!"

Maki adjusts her glasses before folding her arms out in front of her, looking pensive and ready to spill some piping hot tea. "I don’t know the full story behind it, but Megumi’s father took on his first wife’s last name when he married her and then broke away from the Zen’in family soon after. I wasn’t even aware of Megumi’s existence until some years ago, when Satoru had introduced him to us. But since the beginning he and his father have never wanted anything to do with our family, god only knows why," she concludes, with the biting sarcasm of someone who knows exactly why.

This was the most he’d ever learned about Fushiguro in one sitting, Yuuji realizes with a start. "I had no idea… He never said anything about his family in school. Actually, he never liked talking about himself at all."

"And yet you still had feelings for him in spite of this," Maki says, neither a question nor an accusation. Just a simple statement of fact.

Yuuji flushes. It sounds so embarrassing, when she puts it like that. "Yeah, I did."

"Why?"

"W-Well, there were lots of reasons," Yuuji hedges. He hopes he isn’t receiving the convoluted equivalent of the Zen’in family shovel talk right now. "He was just…so many things: smart and good-looking and confident and really, really damn stubborn. But he never cared about what other people thought of him and seemed to know exactly what to do, no matter the situation. And I don’t mean to imply that he never cared about anyone else at all because he did, in his own special Fushiguro way. But he lived by his own moral code and was never afraid of being true to himself, and I’ve always admired him for that."

Yuuji doesn’t know if this is the answer Maki had been looking for, per se, but these are his true feelings on the matter, whether she likes it or not. He’s still relieved though, when she breaks out into a smile, approval clear on her face.

"Not bad at all, Itadori Yuuji. Well done," she says, almost wonderingly. But her expression clouds over as she continues speaking. "To my understanding, Megumi didn’t have an easy childhood, and I heard his high school years were especially trying. I’m glad that he had someone like you watching over him, even if he wasn’t aware of it at the time."

"Aww, isn’t it wonderful, Yuuji!" Nobara coos. "All those years of acting as Fushiguro’s stalkerish guardian angel have finally paid off! His family loves you!" She only laughs when Yuuji scowls and flings a pea at her, avoiding the incoming attack with a flourish. "Still, that doesn’t explain how he ended up appearing in Jujutsu Clinic, of all places. I would’ve thought that, as a member of the Zen’in family, he would've grown up to be a fancy-pants doctor or something."

She does have a point. Yuuji goes out of his way to avoid thinking about his high school graduation, for obvious reasons, but what he does remember is inconsistent with the current situation. "That’s true! Fushiguro got accepted into Todai’s Faculty of Medicine, didn’t he? Our principal even bragged about it during his closing speech."

"'Accepted' is one way to put it," Maki snorts. “He was awarded a full-ride scholarship, and the whole family never let us forget it. For months it was all, ‘Megumi did this’ and ‘Megumi did that’. But they soon shut up when they learned that he’d dropped out after only one semester. Nearly gave our family head an aneurysm when he heard all about it!” She’s laughing as she says this, as if recollecting a particularly joyful memory. For the longest time Yuuji had wondered how an uptown girl like Maki and a country hick like Nobara could ever find love with each other, but now he thinks he understands. It’s because they’re both horrible, horrible sadists. "Apparently Megumi had been using his connections with Satoru to apply for a veterinarian degree overseas in secret. By the time anyone found out, he was already on a plane to America, and no one could do anything to stop him."

"What a total jackass," Nobara says, delighted.

That does sound like a very Gojo-esque plan. Perhaps Fushiguro took after his mentor in more ways than just his choice in occupation.  

Yuuji is still reeling from all this new information, even as time passes and dinner starts winding down. Before today, Fushiguro had been an enigma, an attractive specter to be admired from afar. But now he was his own person, with his own motivations and even his own tragic backstory. And to think, the only reason he’d even learned any of this at all was because his (sort of) ex-girlfriend’s new girlfriend was actually his old crush’s second-aunt.

Truly, the world works in such strange and mysterious ways.

"But isn’t it great, though?" exclaims Nobara, out of the blue. She’d been downing Yuuji’s good sake at a steady rate for the past hour and is undeniably more than a little tipsy by now. "You found Fushiguro after all these years, and my own girlfriend is related to him! That’s seriously some epic K-drama-worthy shit right there."

Yuuji frowns. "Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence."

"I’m saying that’s a good thing, you moron," Nobara slurs. "I’ve watched enough of them to know how this’ll end. Soon you’ll be banging him in the backseat of your car, and then you’ll be eloping to Las Vegas before we know it!" She sniffles once, theatrically, before devolving into full-on sobbing against Maki’s shoulder. "They all grow up so fast!"

"Nobara, I don’t even have a car, and no one is eloping to Las Vegas," Yuuji says, aghast that she’s bringing this up in front of Maki. Who he now knows is Fushiguro’s aunt.

Maki seems to take all this in stride, though her smile is a touch too evil for Yuuji’s comfort. "Don’t worry, Yuuji. I’m sure you can afford a car of your own someday, especially if you marry into my family."

Ugh. Yuuji is surrounded by harpies. "Alright, alright, I think it’s high time you both went home. Maki-san, can you help me get her to the door?"

"Hey! I can walk by myself, you know!" Nobara shouts, right before she stands up and careens into the wall. Her protests die down pretty quickly after that.

Watching Nobara nearly faceplant three times while trying to get into her shoes almost makes up for the mortifying dinnertime conversation, but soon she’s packed up and ready to go. Maki slings an arm around Nobara’s waist for support and starts making her way towards the entranceway.

"Don’t worry, I’ll see to it that she gets home safely," Maki assures him.

Yuuji nods. "Send me a text after you do."

"Stop talking about me like I’m not here," Nobara huffs, stumbling over to pull him in for a fierce hug. "Just…talk to him, okay? You’ve been in love with this guy for like, a whole decade, and now you have the chance to actually do something about it." And then, because she never does anything by halves, she also punches his arm for good measure. "I just want you to be happy for once, damn it. We all do."

"I-I know, Nobara. Really."

"I can give you his number," Maki offers, “or get you connected with him some other way."

"No, it’s okay." Getting Fushiguro’s number seems far too great a responsibility for his poor heart to handle right now, especially if he has no real justification for having it in the first place. "I know that he’s going to be working at Jujutsu Clinic until Gojo-sensei comes back. I can drop by and talk to him anytime."

"Alright. I’ll respect your decision, but don’t hesitate to contact me if you change your mind," Maki says. Nobara was right—she really is such a cool person. "And for what it’s worth, I do think you’ll be a good match for him. I’ll be wishing you all the best."

Yuuji’s cheeks warm at her compliment. "Thanks, Maki-san. It means a lot to me, coming from you."

"Promise me!” Nobara yells over her shoulder, obstinate about having the last word, even as Maki herds her down the hallway and into the elevator. "Promise me you won’t chicken out and that you’ll actually go talk to him!"

And he will. Honest. He just needs to sleep and get his thoughts sorted out first, but then he’ll go.

First thing in the morning.

Because Yuuji is a lying liar who lies, he does not, in fact, go back to Jujutsu Clinic first thing next morning.

It’s for the best, Yuuji reasons. He doesn’t want to imply that Fushiguro’s work was lacking in any way. That’s all. It has nothing to do with the fear of being unable to live up to the other man’s expectations or as coming off as some creepy weirdo stalker. Really.

Grandpa Itadori didn’t raise no coward. Yuuji is only doing this out of consideration for Fushiguro’s delicate pride. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, after all, and he’d already waited seven long years. What’s another day in the grand scheme of things?

One day becomes one week, and one week becomes two before Yuuji finally decides that an appropriate amount of time has passed and that it is now socially acceptable to visit the clinic once again.

He’s ready to face Fushiguro now. All the motivational videos he’d binged in preparation for this day will not be going to waste.

…Or so he’d thought. But when he’d opened the door to the examination room, impassioned speech at the ready, he’s greeted not with Fushiguro’s beautiful face but by a familiar blindfolded visage instead. The rush of enthusiasm he’d felt earlier deflates out of him so quickly it leaves him feeling vaguely constipated.

"Can’t you at least try to mask your disappointment a little better, Yuuji?" Gojo says in mock offense. "You’re going to hurt my feelings."

"Good."

"My, my. What’s gotten you so worked up that you’d attack a poor, blameless man like this? Was Megumi not good enough for you?"

Yuuji will not tolerate this sort of baseless Fushiguro slander. "What? No! Of course not! He was great. Diagnosed my cat with toxo-whatsit and everything. He told me I could come back today for a follow-up examination to see if it’s fully out of Sukuna’s system."

"Toxoplasmosis, huh? How nice!" Now, don’t get him wrong; Yuuji likes and respects Gojo a whole lot, but there’s also no denying that he’s long overdue for a good punch to his smug mug. "Alrighty then, let’s see how our dear little Sukuna is faring, shall we?"

Unfortunately for them, Sukuna is downright adamant about not getting with the program today. While getting Sukuna to cooperate with its vet had always been a major challenge, it seems extra stubborn in its refusal this time around. Which is strange because it had been unusually docile—for Sukuna’s standards, anyway—up until this point. Perhaps Sukuna had been anticipating Fushiguro instead? It’s acting like its life had completely changed upon meeting Fushiguro and that no one else who came after him could ever compare.

(Which Yuuji can relate to, one-hundred percent, but still.)

"I’m so sorry about all this," Yuuji says, frustrated after their tenth unsuccessful attempt at getting Sukuna out of its carrier. At this rate, Yuuji doesn’t know which one will give out first—the cat or the container. "I don’t know why he’s lashing out so much today. He was so well-behaved when Fushiguro looked at him last time, I thought that maybe he’d changed for the better."

This news gives Gojo pause. "Really?"

Gojo has been Sukuna’s primary vet for many years now. He knows better than anyone the perils that come with this job and title.

Yuuji nods miserably. "Yeah. He was super obedient and didn’t make a fuss at all when Fushiguro was examining him. I even heard him purring, Gojo-sensei! That was the first and only time I’ve ever heard him purr."

"Fascinating! How wonderful!" Gojo seems inordinately interested by this new development. "Say, have you heard this before? Studies have shown that pets are actually very cognizant and sensitive to their owner’s emotions. What do you think this could mean, hm? Is it possible that Sukuna is picking up certain feelings from you and projecting them onto Megumi?"

Yuuji is seriously going to deck this guy someday. He’s sure everyone will thank him for it, too. "Th-That’s not true! Animals don’t work that way!"

"Maybe they do, and maybe they don’t. Either way, it doesn’t change the fact that we’re going nowhere like this." Gojo heaves a dramatic sigh and places his hands on his hips. "Even for someone as amazing as I am, it’d be an impossible feat to check on Sukuna’s health if he refuses to calm down long enough for me to take a proper examination." A pause. "Well, perhaps not impossible—I am me, after all—but it’s definitely going to require more effort than I’m willing to expend."

Was there truly nothing they could do? Yuuji bites his lower lip in worry.

"You know, I can’t check on him, but I think we’ve established that someone else can."

Hold on, surely Gojo wasn’t suggesting…

"What do you say, Yuuji? Why don’t we call Megumi up and see if there’s anything he can do to help us?" Gojo’s smile is evil incarnate. Yuuji doesn’t trust him for one second.

And yet…

It would be nice to see Fushiguro again. For Sukuna’s sake, of course! His own personal feelings have nothing to do with this. At all. This is because, as Fushiguro stated before, Yuuji really cares about his cat. Yes, he can’t afford to fail Fushiguro’s expectations now, can he? He’s just trying his best to be a good pet owner, and if seeing Fushiguro is their only solution, then, well. Sacrifices will have to be made, plain and simple.

Yuuji pretends to give it some thought, like he hadn’t already known what his answer would be from the moment Gojo suggested it. "I-I mean, sure. If, if it’s okay with you. And him."

"It’ll be more than okay! Megumi works a lot from home, so he does private check-ups all the time! In fact, why don’t I give you his number so that you can call him up right now?"

Gojo seems way too amused about all this. And any time Gojo is enthusiastic about something, it always warrants reason for concern. As if sensing his growing hesitation, Gojo adds, "Wouldn’t it also make more sense for Megumi to do the follow-up examination since he was the one who diagnosed Sukuna to begin with? He’d already be aware of the situation and will know exactly what to look for in Sukuna’s recovery."

And that does make sense, but Yuuji still can’t help feeling a little duped, regardless. Granted, most of his conversations with Gojo leave him feeling a little duped, so perhaps this was just on par for the course.

Yuuji sighs. "Yeah, okay. Let’s do it."

Despite being armed with numerous possible justifications for calling, Yuuji still feels a nerve-wracking sense of anxiety when he dials Fushiguro’s number. It only gets worse after he hears the ringtone and skyrockets when someone finally answers.

"Hello? Fushiguro speaking."

"Hey, Fushiguro! Hi! It’s me, Yuuji. I mean, Itadori. Itadori Yuuji. Yep, that’s me. Hi."

Smooth, Yuuji. Real smooth.

"Yes, I know who you are." Fushiguro’s voice is warm with thinly-veiled amusement. Yuuji simultaneously wants to float into the sky from euphoric joy and crawl into a hole so he can hide away in it for the rest of his life. It’s a very odd mix of feelings. "What can I do for you, Itadori?"

"R-Right, um, so I’m at Jujutsu Clinic right now, for the follow-up examination you suggested two weeks ago? And Sukuna isn’t behaving like, at all—he’s too riled up for Gojo-sensei to examine him properly. So I was wondering if I could maybe ask for your help with this? Please? B-Because you handled him so well last time, and Gojo-sensei said that you did private check-ups—"

"He said what now?" Fushiguro interjects, sounding peeved.

Why does it feel like Yuuji just stepped on a landmine? He swallows nervously and looks to Gojo for guidance but only receives a thumbs-up in return. Great, thanks for nothing, dude. "…He told me you did private check-ups because you work from home a lot? Um, was I wrong? Should I not have called at all?"

For the longest time, there is nothing but silence down the line. Then, it’s followed by a deep, explosive sigh that Yuuji is certain can only mark Fushiguro’s imminent rejection. But before he can stammer out any apologies, Fushiguro says, "No, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it. I’ll take a look at Sukuna for you."

"Really? Oh my gosh, thank you so much, Fushiguro, you’re the best—"

"B-But you’ll have to come over," Fushiguro interrupts again, "to me. I mean, to my place. Because I can’t go up there. To you."

He seems oddly flustered. Yuuji hopes that he hadn’t overstepped any boundaries and made Fushiguro uncomfortable in the process.  

"Sure, no problem! What’s your address?"

As Fushiguro proceeds to rattle off a location, Yuuji can feel his brows slowly rising to his hairline in amazement. Damn, that’s one nice part of town. Though he supposes he shouldn’t expect any less from a Zen’in, estranged family member or not.

"The door will be unlocked, so just let yourself in when you arrive," Fushiguro concludes. "I might be in the middle of something and won’t be able to get you."

"No worries! See you soon, Fushiguro!"

The other man mumbles out a quick goodbye and ends the call, almost as if in a rush to get away from him.

When Yuuji looks back up, he’s met with the sight of Gojo’s wide, shit-eating grin. "See, that wasn’t so bad, was it? Now you have Megumi’s number and his address! Not bad for a day’s work, wouldn’t you say? Please feel free to shower me in thanks and praises!"

Yuuji sighs. “You really are the worst sometimes, Gojo-sensei.”

“How could you say that to someone who only has your best interests at heart, Yuuji! You should be ashamed of yourself,” Gojo gasps in faux horror, clutching at his breast like a scandalized maiden from a period piece. "But, all jokes aside, isn’t it time you got going? It wouldn’t be polite to keep Megumi waiting."

The irony of Gojo lecturing others on common courtesy isn’t lost on Yuuji, but he is right about one thing.  

Yuuji has kept Fushiguro waiting for long enough.

And now it’s time to finally see him.

Chapter Text

Walking into Fushiguro’s house, Yuuji soon finds out, gives off the same surreal impression as stepping straight into the midst of a Disney movie set in action.

For one, the place is massive.

Secondly, there are animals lying about in every corner of the house, as far as the eye can see.

From the instant Yuuji steps through the entranceway, he’s accosted by a pair of curious, amicable dogs. The entire front garden is littered with fluffy white rabbits. There is a large pond at its center inhabited by numerous frogs and fishes. For some inexplicable reason, there is also an owl. Just chilling out. In broad daylight.

And then, sitting cross-legged under an open veranda: the crown jewel, the princess himself, Yuuji’s very own Snow White. He’s tending to a long white snake draped over his shoulders like the world’s largest, scaliest scarf. A literal feather boa, minus the feather part.

What even is my life right now? Yuuji wonders, a touch hysterically. 

"Itadori." Fushiguro rises to his feet when he sees the other man approaching him. "Sorry I couldn’t get the door. My hands are a little preoccupied right now."

"Yeah, no, I can see that." Yuuji waves an arm at his surroundings. "You sure have a lot of animals, Fushiguro. Are they all yours?"

"Most of them are," Fushiguro says as he leads Yuuji inside. "I have a special permit to treat and take care of exotic animals. Standard procedure dictates I return them to their owners or release them back into the wild when I’m done, but there are some exceptions to the rule. I’m allowed to keep them in cases where they’re deemed as unsuitable for returning back to their natural habitats." He points at the owl. "Nue over there was injured in a hunting accident and can no longer fly without assistance." Then he gestures to the snake coiled around him. "Orochi is an illegally-purchased pet who was released into the wild when he got too big, but I took him in because he lacked the proper survival skills to take care of himself. The dogs are trained to help me look after the other animals, and there isn’t any special meaning to the pond. It just came with the house."

"And the rabbits?"

Fushiguro shrugs. "I like rabbits."

Oh. My. God.

Yuuji makes a desperate attempt at schooling his expression into something a little less hopelessly besotted. "Yeah? That’s great! Rabbits are great. I love them too."

Fushiguro gives him an odd look. "…Right. Anyway, I’m going to put Orochi away, and then I’ll take a look at Sukuna for you. Can you put him on the table over there? I’ll be right back."

Then he’s off, leaving Yuuji with his own thoughts as he navigates around the humongous living room to the table he was directed to. It’s a disconcerting experience, being inside Fushiguro’s house. Never in his wildest dreams did he ever imagine ending up here one day. High school Yuuji would’ve creamed his pants. Or died from sheer happiness.

"Isn’t it funny how life works, Sukuna?" Yuuji muses to the disgruntled pink cat. "If you’d been any less of a jerk to everyone you came across, we probably wouldn’t be here today."

"Mrrow," Sukuna replies, which Yuuji knows by years of experience is cat-speak for ‘fuck you’.

"Yeah, yeah. Just don’t ruin this for me, okay? I know you like him too, so it’ll work out in both of our favors if we can keep him around longer."

Sukuna huffs at this but otherwise stays surprisingly well-behaved until Fushiguro’s return. Even the subsequent examination passes without any fanfare, Sukuna content to stay still under Fushiguro’s ministrations while purring softly the entire time. It doesn’t take long for Fushiguro to declare Sukuna as healthy and officially parasite-free.

"I still can’t get over how easily you handle him every time," Yuuji remarks, after everything is wrapped up and Sukuna is secured back inside his carrier. "He never acts like this in front of anyone else."

"I didn’t know it was such a big deal."

Yuuji snorts. "There’s a reason why Gojo-sensei is the only person who's willing to treat him, you know. Everyone else is scared to death of him."

"Ah." Fushiguro’s smile is wry. "My condolences. It must’ve been hard for you."

Not if it brought me back to you in the end, is Yuuji’s first delirious thought. But that wouldn’t be very appropriate to say, so he makes do with, "Yeah, Gojo-sensei can be every bit as tiring to deal with, honestly, but I’m glad I got the chance to meet him. Jujutsu Clinic is a fun place, even if it feels like I have to commute to the other side of the country just to get there."

"Are you really telling me that no other clinic would take Sukuna in? None at all?" Fushiguro asks. He sounds genuinely curious and not judgmental in the least. Well, with the way Sukuna acts around him, Yuuji understands why it’d be hard for Fushiguro to believe any of this.

"Sukuna has a nasty reputation for giving vets all sorts of trauma. We’ve been banned from every single clinic in our area. Which, uh, leads me to ask…" Yuuji coughs into his fist, bashful about the brazen request he has in mind.

Fushiguro tilts his head inquisitively. "Yes?"

"Do you—Can you, I mean." God, why is this so hard to say? "CanIaskyoutobeSukuna’svetfromnowon?" And then, because he wasn’t raised by barbarians, he adds, "Please."

There, quick and easy. Like peeling off a band-aid.

It takes Fushiguro a while to parse through the nonsensical jumble of words, but his face falls when he realizes what Yuuji is asking of him. "About that… I’m not usually in the business of treating companion animals like cats and dogs."

"But you took over for Gojo-sensei while he was gone, didn’t you?"

"I only stepped in for him because I owed him a favor. He helped me out a lot when I was younger and you know what, never mind, you don’t need to hear this," he finishes off in a frenetic rush. "Anyway, my point is: what I did two weeks ago and just now are out of the norm for me. I don’t often work in animal clinics, and I especially don’t take on private examinations for house pets."

"Oh… but Gojo-sensei said—"

"Gojo-sensei is full of shit," Fushiguro cuts in. This is hard to argue against, so Yuuji stays quiet. "I specialize in the care of exotic animals, which means that I work mostly with zoos and wildlife conservation centers. When I accept private examinations, it’s for animals who can’t be treated in standard clinics. I do have some experience with normal house pets, but they’re really not my area of expertise. Sorry."

Yuuji shakes his head. "No, I’m the one who should be apologizing. I took Gojo-sensei’s words at face value without asking you first."

Fushiguro still looks distressed about turning him down even though he has every right to, and now Yuuji feels bad for making him feel bad. This whole situation sucks. No one is even in the wrong here except for Gojo, who definitely deserves to be struck down by lightning for this.

"I’m only saying this because I fear I’d lack the skill to treat your cat if anything more serious happens in the future," Fushiguro continues. "Gojo-sensei seems to have done a good job with him thus far, so I think it’d be in your best interests to stick with him for now."

And yeah, Yuuji gets it. Sure, it’s a little disappointing, but Fushiguro is under no obligation to stick his nose into matters that don’t concern him. That he’d already gone out of his way to help Sukuna is more than enough for Yuuji.

"…But if, hypothetically speaking, you want to bring Sukuna over once in a while so I can look at him and see how he’s doing, I…wouldn’t be opposed to that either."

Fushiguro is an angel sent from the heavens to bless this unclean earth with his divine radiance, of this Yuuji is abundantly sure.

"I know I’ve said this before, but you really are the best, Fushiguro," Yuuji says, aware that he’s smiling like a total lovestruck idiot but unable to do much to stop it. And maybe he doesn’t want to. Fushiguro deserves to know how just how much Yuuji appreciates him, after all.

"I-It’s nothing so amazing," Fushiguro protests. His cheeks are flushed with the most charming shade of pink. Yuuji melts at the sight of it. "I just thought it might be good for him to interact with other animals and people in a controlled environment. Get him more comfortable with the idea of being around others, maybe."

"Sure, sounds great. You always come up with such good ideas." Fushiguro could ask him for his own kidney right now and Yuuji would be onboard with it, no questions asked. "So, uh, how much do I owe you for all this?"

"Oh, for today’s examination? Nothing."

"Wait, I can’t just pay you nothing," Yuuji objects, horrified at the very thought of leaving the other man high and dry. "I need to repay you for everything you’ve done for me somehow."

"You don’t think the train fare to Jujutsu Clinic and back is expensive enough?" Fushiguro drawls. "I didn’t know you had so much pocket change to spare, Itadori."

"W-Well, no, but—"

"I mean it. I was the one who asked you to come over, and I didn’t do anything special when I examined Sukuna earlier. Charging you a fee on top of that would just be redundant at this point."

Yuuji knows he doesn’t have much to offer to a guy who’s rich enough to buy his own personal mini-zoo, but it still doesn’t feel right to take advantage of Fushiguro’s kindness this way. Then he thinks of Nobara’s words, of Maki’s encouragement, and knows what he must do. A chance like this doesn’t fall into his lap every day. He’d be a fool if he let it go to waste.

"Then will you at least let me take you out for some coffee? And if you don’t want to see it as payment, then you can think of it as an opportunity to catch up again. We never got a chance to properly talk to each other after we graduated, did we? If you don’t mind, I’d really like to hear about what you’ve been up to since then."

A look of surprise flickers across the other man’s face. Yuuji recognizes it as the same expression Fushiguro had when they’d said their goodbyes at the clinic. But what could it mean? Did he really find it so hard to believe that Yuuji still remembered him after all these years?  

(Preposterous. He’d always been one of the only things that Yuuji would never allow himself to forget.)

Then, as soon as it comes, the surprise ebbs away and is replaced by a flat stare. "You’re being awfully persistent. Are you sure this isn’t some form of entrapment? We barely even knew each other back in school."

"All the more reason to start being friends now! C’mon, Fushiguro…" he wheedles, "it’s not every day that I get to meet someone who owns a pet owl, you know. It’ll be my treat."

Fushiguro sighs, but even Yuuji can tell, by the small quirk of his mouth, that it’s only for appearances’ sake. "Well, who am I to say no to free coffee? Fine, if you insist. I’m available this weekend if you are."

It’s honestly pretty cute, seeing him play hard to get like this. Yuuji always did have a soft spot for tsundere characters. Apparently his real-life preferences don’t fall very far from the tree.

He leaves after promising to text Fushiguro a time and place in the near future. The entire trip home passes by in a haze, his mind preoccupied with so many thoughts that he nearly disembarks at the wrong station twice. He’d started the day off with nothing, and ended it with Fushiguro’s number and address, as well as promises of a coffee date looming on the horizon.

And all because of a certain meddlesome vet and crazy old cat, too.

Perhaps Yuuji should send Gojo a thank-you card after all. And give Sukuna a treat later while he’s at it.

They probably deserve it, just this once.

---

They agree to meet on a Sunday afternoon, at a coffee shop near Fushiguro’s residence.

Yuuji spends the whole morning casually losing his damn mind, calls Junpei up for moral support, gets lovingly roasted, calls Nobara up for fashion tips, gets not-as-lovingly roasted, and ends up having to run fifty laps around the block to work off his nervous energy. He does manage to calm down as their meeting time approaches, but by that point he’s not entirely sure if it’s just the natural result of his exhaustion finally catching up to him.

Or he could be going into shock. That is also a possibility. Hm.

Then Fushiguro enters the room and his senses go haywire again, his heart working overtime in his chest and his stomach doing flips to make any acrobat go green with envy. It’s more than a little ridiculous, really, the effect that Fushiguro has on him.

When he asks Fushiguro for his order, the other man requests only for one cup of black coffee. Yuuji isn’t sure if it’s because he actually likes the beverage, or if he’s just buying the cheapest item on the menu out of pity. He seems to be enjoying himself though, so Yuuji decides to chalk it up to the former, if only for the sake of his pride. They exchange pleasantries over coffee, updating each other on how they’ve been and what they’ve been interested in lately. At some point, however, the conversation inevitably steers to their choices in professions.

"I used to do a lot of odd jobs before," Yuuji says, "but I’m currently working as a physical therapist."

"A physical therapist?" Fushiguro looks thoughtful. "That does seem like the sort of job you’d enjoy."

"Right?" Yuuji beams, delighted upon receiving the Fushiguro Seal of Approval. "I had a knack for sports even if I didn’t play anything in particular, and I wanted to do something that involved helping others somehow. I’ve gotten to meet all sorts of people on the job too, so that’s a nice bonus. And it never gets any less inspiring to see how hard my clients work to get past their hardships. Really makes you appreciate what you have in life, you know?" He takes a short sip of his iced mocha. "Plus, I’ve always been good with my hands."

Next to him, Fushiguro chokes on his coffee and flushes to the tips of his ears. Alarmed, Yuuji frets over him anxiously, patting his back in what he hopes is a comforting manner. For some odd reason though, this only serves to make Fushiguro even more agitated.

"Are you okay? You should be more careful when drinking your coffee. I know the taste can be a little strong if you’re not used to it, so take your time and don’t drink it yet if it’s too hot for you."

"My…coffee…?" Fushiguro’s glare is absolutely withering, though the effect is lessened somewhat by the alarming shade of red on his face. "You—You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you? There’s no way you’re not doing this just to mess with me."

"…Y-Yes, I ordered your coffee hot on purpose?" What is even going on here? Yuuji is so confused. "Was that not what you wanted? Oh crap, should I have gotten it iced instead? Do you want me to get you a new cup?"

Instead of answering him directly, Fushiguro only stares at him, long enough that Yuuji starts to sweat a little, before turning around and downing his entire cup in one go, as if he were drinking a shot of alcohol and not a full serving of steaming coffee. It’s actually pretty impressive. And also ridiculously hot. Yuuji sweats a little more in his seat.

"Never mind," Fushiguro sighs, massaging his temples as if to ward off an incoming migraine. "Just, just forget about it."

Fushiguro, Yuuji is starting to notice, had a remarkable talent for sighing like he truly meant it. The soulful frustration conveyed into one sound… The sheer depth of emotion portrayed by one lone gesture… He could really channel a cantankerous old man like nobody’s business. It’s always incredibly moving to witness.

"S-So, uh, what about you, Fushiguro?" Yuuji diverts in hopes of salvaging the situation. "How did you end up being a vet? Weren’t you on track to becoming a doctor? I heard you even got a scholarship for it and everything!"

"You did?" Fushiguro’s gaze is unnerving in its intensity. "From who?"

"Oh, um, from Maki-san. Zen’in Maki? She said she was related to you? I’m good friends with her girlfriend."

"Maki-san’s girlfriend?" A look of understanding flashes across Fushiguro’s face. "This must be that Nobara girl she brings up from time to time. I’ve never met her in person before, though."

And thank god for such small blessings. Nobara, too, knew a lot about Fushiguro, though perhaps not in a way he might be expecting, and Yuuji has no intention of explaining how that happened. 

"Y-Yeah, I’m sure you’ll meet her at some point!" Though hopefully not anytime soon. At least, not until we get our stories straight. "But I was so shocked to hear that you were actually related to the Zen’in family! You never told anyone in school about that."

"It’s not exactly something worth bragging about," Fushiguro retorts acidly, before looking contrite about his outburst immediately after. "I'm sorry. I didn’t mean to snap. I know it must be disappointing to see someone who’d gotten a full-ride scholarship put it all to waste and end up becoming some measly, no-name vet instead."

"Wh—That’s not what I meant at all!" Yuuji protests, flailing his hands about in panic. There’s so much pain in Fushiguro’s voice. This must be a really sore topic for him and, from the sound of things, a conversation he’s had to deal with far too many times in the past. "I think you’re doing amazing work as a vet. And it’s obvious to everyone just how much you love all the animals under your care. I mean, you even got Sukuna to like you! The cat who hates literally everyone under the sun! I could never be disappointed in anyone who could do that."

Guarded blue eyes assess him intently, but Yuuji refuses to shy away from them. Not until Fushiguro realizes the depth of his sincerity. And when he does, the way his eyes brighten up with hope and amazement is nothing short of breathtaking.

"You really mean that," Fushiguro says, sounding awed.

"Hell yeah I do! I could never fault anyone for doing what they love, and especially not if they’re helping others out in the process! You being a vet and not a doctor is surprising, but it’s not necessarily a bad thing. I actually think it suits you really well, Fushiguro!" Yuuji concludes with an encouraging grin. "You’re clearly very good at and very passionate about what you do."

For a tense moment, Fushiguro remains speechless, almost disbelieving. But then, like a puppet cut from its strings, he slumps over in relief and huffs out a small laugh. "Of course you’d say that. Of course you would." When he lifts his head back up to look at Yuuji, his eyes and his smile are so warm, so welcoming. Yuuji’s heart flutters at the sight. "I…had my reasons for not wanting to become a doctor, in the end. But what’s done is done, and ultimately, I’m happy where I am today."

"As you should be," Yuuji laughs good-naturedly. "Well, it probably doesn’t mean much coming from me, but I, for one, am proud of you and the way you turned out."

"No, I—it does mean a lot to me." His voice is soft with some indecipherable emotion. "Thank you, Itadori."

Yuuji grabs Fushiguro’s shoulder in a show of support and smiles wider when the other man leans into the contact for once, unafraid.

"Anytime, Fushiguro. Anytime."

Yuuji hadn’t known it then, but that eventful coffee date would come to mark the first in a series of many. Soon enough, he found himself seeing Fushiguro on a fairly regular basis. Sometimes, he would bring Sukuna over to chill out at Fushiguro’s giant mansion, where he’d engage the vet in light conversation while he saw to other animals. Other times, they’d meet up to grab some coffee or a full meal together. Eventually, they grew comfortable enough around each other that Yuuji had no qualms about inviting Fushiguro out for casual one-on-one hangouts and vice versa.

He also introduced Fushiguro to his friends, who were all very eager about finally getting to meet the man in the flesh after enduring years upon years of hearing Yuuji wax lyrical about him. There was some initial friction with Nobara (but that’s a given because it’s Nobara) but Junpei took a liking to him immediately, and they all soon became close friends in their own right. It didn’t take long before Fushiguro was granted the high honor of joining in on their weekly scheduled movie nights. No one even minded too much that he always picked sappy animal films when it was his turn to choose.

(Among all his friends, there was only one person Yuuji had reservations about introducing Fushiguro to, and that was none other than a certain Todo Aoi.

Todo, one of his regulars at the rehabilitation center, worked as a professional boxer and therefore had a couple screws loose from being punched in the head one too many times over the years. It took him less than a minute upon meeting Yuuji to nominate him as his best friend and soul brother, and Yuuji kind of just went along with it, for the most part.

What he was less keen to go along with, was Todo’s insistence on assessing every passably attractive person Yuuji came across, on the basis that they might one day end up being his future paramour. Fushiguro, of course, was no exception to this.

"What type of girl do you like?" And then, specifically because it was Fushiguro, the man his very own brother had desired so passionately for years, Todo threw him a bone and added, "I don’t care if you're into guys, either."

"A person with unshakeable humanity," had been Fushiguro’s answer. Yuuji found it sweet. Todo, on the other hand, was evidently not of the same opinion, if the punch to Fushiguro’s face was anything to go by. The subsequent bar fight only further cemented this. And for such a slim guy whose job primarily involved facilitating the care and recovery of sickly fragile animals, Fushiguro could sure throw down a mean punch when the situation called for it. By the time he and Todo were finished, they were the only two people left standing. He finally earned some of Todo’s begrudging respect after that.

Later, as they stood over the flaming wreckage of what used to be the bar, Yuuji shuffled closer to Fushiguro to nudge at him. He could already feel the beginnings of what promised to be one epic bruise on his left eye, and Fushiguro’s nose was bleeding like crazy.

"So! I think that went pretty well!" he shouted over the piercing sirens of the surrounding fire trucks.

He received a matching shiner on his other eye for that and figured, yeah, he probably deserved it.)

But, incident with Todo notwithstanding, everyone Yuuji knew liked Fushiguro well enough. Sukuna’s behavior had improved so much that it was borderline non-offensive most days, and even his prickly boss, Nanamin, had nothing negative to say about him in the short time they’d met when Fushiguro had come over to Yuuji’s workplace to pick him up.

And rightly so. Fushiguro’s great.

There’s just something so immensely satisfying about seeing Fushiguro integrate so seamlessly into his life, filling up the empty spaces he hadn’t even known existed, carving out a permanent place for himself in the deepest recesses of Yuuji’s heart. Like he belongs there. Like he’d always belonged there.

And if Yuuji had thought it was hard to nurse a crush on someone he barely knew, it’s nothing compared to how he feels around Fushiguro now. There’s no going back to how it was before, when Yuuji had been unaware of all of Fushiguro’s strange little peculiarities. How he likes putting ginger into his food, regardless of whether it suits the dish or not. ("I’ll have you know that there’s nothing strange about eating ice cream with ginger—Wait, what do you mean ginger ice cream exists? Why haven’t I heard of this before?") How he enjoys reading and watching the news but doesn’t believe in most of it. ("I’m not a conspiracy theorist, I’m just being realistic. How much is the government hiding from us? What aren’t they telling—Why are you laughing? Stop it.") How he hates being around other people for extended periods of time, but could talk for hours on end about the animals he encounters. ("No, I’m being serious. Yes, it’s pink, just like Sukuna. Maybe this abnormal pigmentation is the result of a genetic mutation spread across many species of animals? Perhaps you should adopt Max Elephant too, Itadori. Then you can all start a club together.")

Being in love with Fushiguro is all sorts of horrible and devastating, and Yuuji wouldn’t have it any other way.

Despite their new closeness, however, Fushiguro still remains stubbornly tight-lipped regarding anything involving his past and seems to have an aversion to talking about himself in general. It’s maddening because he knows basically everything there is to know about Yuuji (no thanks to Nobara and Junpei, those traitors), but the only thing Yuuji has to go off of are the scraps fed to him by Maki all those months ago.

Fortunately, what Fushiguro is reluctant to divulge, Gojo is all too happy to share in his stead. When he finds out that the two are now close friends, he’s quick to invite Yuuji over for a casual meal with Fushiguro’s family and friends.

"Megumi’s told us so much about all of his new friends and you in particular. Wouldn’t you like to meet his family and learn more about him as well? Megumi’s always so secretive when it comes to himself; it really is frustrating, isn’t it?"

Yuuji is ashamed to admit that this was all Gojo needed to say for him to fall hook, line, and sinker. But in the end he’s nothing more than a weak, weak man who had zero impulse control when it came to Fushiguro.

They secretly arrange to meet on the coming weekend at a restaurant he and Fushiguro go to rather frequently. It’s so easy getting Fushiguro to agree to come with him that Yuuji almost feels bad about tricking him in such an insidious manner.

Then he sees Fushiguro’s dumbfounded expression when he realizes just what he’s been dragged into and thinks, Yeah, this was totally worth it.  

"Oh my, what a completely unforeseen and random happenstance this is!" Gojo cries out, loud enough to draw a few nasty stares from his neighboring tables. Sitting next to him is a dark-haired man with sharp eyes and across them are three girls: a young pair of twins and an older one appearing to be in her mid-to-late-twenties. "Megumi! Yuuji! Come join us and sit down in these conveniently empty chairs we have here!"

Fushiguro shoots him a look of horrified betrayal, but Yuuji ignores it in favor of grabbing onto his wrist and steering him towards the table.

"We’re sorry Toji couldn’t make it today," the oldest girl says when they’re both seated. "He said he had work he couldn’t afford to miss, but he sends his regards and hopes that he can come to our next gathering."

"It’s fine," Fushiguro sneers. "I wouldn’t have expected him to, anyway."

Yet another mystery to add to the unending pile surrounding Fushiguro’s past. Not for the first time, Yuuji wishes he had more context to work with. This was clearly a very touchy subject for Fushiguro.

As if reading his mind, Gojo explains, "Toji is Megumi’s deadbeat dad, if you weren’t already aware—which, knowing Megumi, you probably aren’t. Tsumiki here is Megumi’s darling older sister. The twins sitting opposite me are Mimiko and Nanako, my lovely daughters. And last, but certainly not least, this dashing, handsome young stud is none other than my wonderful husband, Suguru!"

At the end of his speech, Gojo cheers and breaks out into raucous applause, once again drawing the ire of everyone sitting close to them. Yuuji silently prays for him to dial it down a notch. He actually likes it here and doesn’t want to be banned from coming back in the future.

Still, he can’t deny being excited about finally meeting Gojo’s spouse. He’d always wondered what sort of person would make the conscious decision of choosing to spend the rest of their life with Gojo, and it seems like he now has his answer. Geto Suguru hadn’t been what he was expecting, to say the least. Also because, admittedly, he hadn’t been expecting much at all. But Geto is calm, mature, personable, and well-spoken. A respectable adult role model, but also a chill dude Yuuji wouldn’t mind knocking back some beers with. Honestly, it’s hard to understand why a man like him would willingly tie himself down to the walking human disaster that is Gojo Satoru.

"I know what you’re thinking," Fushiguro says to him, "and I agree. Geto-san is far too good for a raging dumpster fire like Gojo-sensei."

A gasp of dismay. "Megumi, I am right here."

"I know. That’s kind of the point."

But Geto only smiles. "Well, I’ve always wanted my own trophy husband, and Satoru is at least very easy on the eyes, if not on the ears. Or the heart. Or my mental health, for that matter."

"Hey." Gojo throws his hands up in the air, incredulous, and nearly knocks a passing waiter down with his spidery limbs. "I expected this sort of behavior from a rebellious young punk like Megumi, but you too? Truly, you wound me, Suguru. Well, fine, two can play at this game." He turns to Yuuji with a sharklike grin and an evil glint in his eyes. "Say, Yuuji, did you know that our dear Megumi here used to be quite the troublemaker himself? Such a violent little delinquent he was! Gave me so many white hairs growing up, looking after this one."

"That was years ago! I’m not like that anymore!" Fushiguro hisses, hackles raised like an angry cat. "And your hair is naturally white, you good-for-nothing—"

"Wait, wait, wait. Fushiguro? A delinquent?" Yuuji cuts in, astounded. "But that’s impossible! He was the class rep back in high school and even ran for student council in our third year! He used to send delinquents to detention, not the other way round!" But even as he’s saying that, he remembers the ease with which Fushiguro had decimated everyone except Todo in that one memorable bar brawl, and suddenly it doesn’t seem quite so unbelievable anymore.

Huh, that…explains a lot, actually.

"Oh, Yuuji, you poor, misguided soul," Gojo tuts, shaking his head sadly. "It pains me to see how far you’ve been led astray by Megumi’s wiles. Don’t worry, I’m here to set the story straight for you. Come, come, what else would you like to know? Embarrassing childhood memories? Middle school crushes? How he reacts when girls confess to him? His old chuunibyou emo phase? Gojo-sensei knows it all."

And while Yuuji does want to know the answers behind these questions, it’s also easy to see that Fushiguro is seconds away from flipping their table in outrage. Or just straight-up murdering Gojo on the spot. They’ve troubled the restaurant enough as it is, so Yuuji puts a stop to this nonsense before it can spiral out of control.

"I-It’s fine, Gojo-sensei. Anything Fushiguro wants me to know, he can tell me himself."

Gojo boos at him for being a spoilsport, but at least Fushiguro seems appeased by this answer. Phew. Crisis averted for now.

(He makes a mental note to ask Gojo about it later, though. Just, maybe not in front of Fushiguro.)

Despite their very rocky start, the rest of the meal is thankfully rather uneventful in comparison. Yuuji learns more about Fushiguro’s childhood from Gojo and Tsumiki—about how he grew up without his parents, with no one around to take care of him save for his older sister. How they often struggled to make ends meet until Gojo stepped in to provide them with guidance and monetary support. In many ways, Fushiguro’s past reminded Yuuji of his own lonely upbringing. He could really empathize with his pain of not knowing where his parents were, of constantly wondering why they’d seen fit to leave him behind.

(In reality, contrasting personalities aside, he and Fushiguro were very much alike, weren’t they? It’s a sobering realization to have.)

The subdued atmosphere lasts all the way up until their bill comes, whereupon Gojo and Fushiguro nearly come to blows when deciding on who should foot it.

"Haven’t you ever heard of this concept called gratitude? Show a little respect for your elders once in a while, will you!"

"And why should I pay the bill when I barely touched anything? You should take some responsibility for your shitty spending habits!"

Amidst this chaos, Tsumiki takes the opportunity to pull Yuuji away to a quieter corner of the room. "Thank you, Yuuji-kun, for all that you’ve done for Megumi," she whispers, as if imparting a small secret between them to share. "He’s been so much happier ever since you came into his life, so please keep taking good care of him."

Yuuji’s doesn’t know how to feel about this. Sure, he appreciates the sentiment, but it’s still a little embarrassing to be called out on by Fushiguro’s sister like this. Was he really so transparent about his feelings that even total strangers could pick up on it?

But Tsumiki only smiles and pats his arm gently. "Please don’t worry about it. I’m just being meddlesome and wanted to thank you on my little brother’s behalf, that’s all."

Then she’s gone, stepping away from him and back into the fray to scold some sense into Gojo and Fushiguro, who both look suitably cowed by her admonishment. They settle on splitting the bill under Geto’s suggestion, but Yuuji strongly suspects they only did so to avoid incurring Tsumiki’s further wrath. Which is understandable. Fushiguro Tsumiki was a force to be reckoned with when angered.

"I swear, I can’t take them anywhere," Fushiguro later grumbles under his breath, bolder when they’re safely out of hearing range. They’d parted ways from the larger group some time ago, Fushiguro storming off in a huff and Yuuji content to follow him wherever he went. For the past few minutes, they’ve been wandering the streets aimlessly to let off some steam, with no real destination in mind and happy just to be in each other’s company. "Sorry you had to bear witness to all that. This is exactly why I didn’t want to introduce them to you."

"I don’t mind." Yuuji shrugs. "I had fun getting to know everyone. Your sisters are nice, and Geto-san is really cool. Not the type of person I was expecting Gojo-sensei’s husband to be though, I’ll admit."

Fushiguro scoffs. "He was just trying to leave a good first impression on you. Yes, he’s better than Gojo-sensei, but that’s not saying much. Actually, he was every bit as insufferable when they were both younger, believe it or not."

"Geto-san? No way."

"I’m serious! They used to argue all the time over every little thing. You couldn’t ever get a moment of peace when they were around." It’s obvious despite his biting words that Fushiguro harbors no true ill will towards his two guardians. When he spoke, his voice was warm with nostalgic fondness. "We were all surprised, back then, to hear they were actually planning on tying the knot for good. But, looking back now, I wonder why we were when it was the only logical outcome to begin with. Those assholes don’t deserve anyone but each other."

Yuuji laughs. "Sounds like you had it rough, growing up with them."

"No kidding. They’d try to get me to pick sides in their petty arguments by bribing me with stuff all the time. Can’t say it was fun though, having to play relationship counselor to grown men more than twice my age. Not that it matters now, anyway. At least it gave me the leverage I needed to finally cash in my favor with Gojo-sensei after all this time. There’s no way I’d let him get away with pulling shit like this for so long without asking for anything in return."

Yuuji hums and nods absently in agreement.

Then, realization strikes.

Wait, Gojo-sensei owed him a favor? Didn’t he tell me it was the other way round? It’s possible he’s talking about something else entirely, but what if…

What if he isn’t?

But Fushiguro seems to catch on to his mistake the same instant that Yuuji does and clams up immediately. Dread pools in the pit of Yuuji’s stomach when he notices Fushiguro’s stony demeanor. Which could only mean…

So I was right. He’s hiding something from me. And it’s connected to the circumstances that we met in somehow.

"Fushiguro… you haven’t been entirely honest with me, have you? About the day we met and what led up to it."

Silence. Somehow, it’s even more damning than any answer Fushiguro could ever come up with.

"I’m…I’m not mad at you or anything, but I do want to know the truth. Please."

A small crack in Fushiguro’s expression. Remorse? Or shame, perhaps. But before Yuuji can even begin to guess, he’s shoved to the side by a fellow pedestrian, jolting him out of his stupor.

Oh, right. They’re still standing in the middle of the street. Oops.

"Um, this probably isn’t the best place for a proper discussion though. Can you please come home with me to talk things out?" Yuuji pleads. "I won’t judge you for your reasons. I just want to know why you did it. And I promise that, no matter what, we’ll still be friends after this."

At first, there’s no discernable change in Fushiguro’s stoic facade. But then he turns away, angling himself so that his expression is all but unreadable. "Look at you, playing the martyr. Always far too trusting for your own good. But fine, let’s do things your way. I’ll go back to yours and tell you everything you want to know. Though I wonder how forgiving you’ll still be after hearing what I have to say."

With that said, he turns his back on Yuuji fully and walks away. Yuuji scrambles to follow after him, determination quickening his pace and lengthening his stride.

He’s tired of being left behind, of watching Fushiguro slip through his fingers. But he has no intention of letting him go this time.

Not now, nor ever again.

Yuuji will simply have to prove, once and for all, that he’s here to stay.

---

They walk back home without saying a word to each other.

Fushiguro is a taciturn person by nature, so Yuuji is used to being the bigger contributor in their shared conversations. There would be days when Fushiguro will have barely anything to say at all, leaving Yuuji to fill the quiet with his own voice. And that’s fine, for the most part. It’s what makes Fushiguro such a great listener and a good match for Yuuji’s own tendency to ramble on about whatever topic catches his interest. So it’s not like silence is anything new to a relationship like theirs.

But this is the first time that Yuuji’s felt so actively shunned, and he doesn’t like it one bit.

So much for taking good care of Fushiguro, he thinks bitterly. It’d been less than an hour ago since Tsumiki had asked this of him, and already he’s messed things up in his typical Yuuji fashion. He knows, logically speaking, that none of this was his fault, but part of him still feels like he’s the one to blame somehow.

It just doesn’t make any sense. Not a lot of things do, when it comes to Fushiguro.

Such as when they step inside the apartment and Sukuna immediately rushes over to greet him, rubbing against his feet and purring. Despite the tense situation, the sight of Sukuna being so uncharacteristically blatant in its affections brings a smile to Yuuji’s face.

"I swear, if it weren’t physically impossible, I’d almost think my cat is in love with you."

Fushiguro scoffs, but he reaches down to scratch Sukuna behind its ears all the same, seeming more relaxed now than he had been in the entire trip here. "That’s nice and all, but I didn’t exactly come over to talk about your cat."

"R-Right." Yuuji gulps, suddenly nervous. "Give me a second to put him to bed. Uh, feel free to sit wherever. I’ll come and join you in a bit."

He picks Sukuna up, who yowls in protest at the prospect of being separated from its beloved Fushiguro, and rushes into his bedroom. Now that he’s away from Fushiguro, his nerves are going haywire from pure anxiety. As if sensing his plight, Sukuna ceases its struggling to observe him, its bushy tail swishing back and forth in curiosity.

"What should I do, Sukuna? I’m so afraid to go out there and talk to him. What if…what if after all this, he decides that he doesn’t want to have anything to do with me anymore?"

But Sukuna only huffs and bats at his face with its paw. Huh, no claws out. It must be going soft in its old age.

Yuuji smiles. "Yeah, you’re right. I’m not going to get anything done by moping and feeling sorry for myself. I have to be brave, for the two of us. Because it’s a team effort, right? Keeping Fushiguro around. Thanks for reminding me, Sukuna." He kneels down to put Sukuna on its bed, holds a fist out, and chuckles when it bats at his hand again.

"That’s right, buddy. Pink hair solidarity all the way."

When he reenters the living room, he finds Fushiguro seated on his small sofa, hands folded neatly on his lap. He’s staring out the window at nothing in particular but, upon noticing Yuuji’s arrival, turns piercing blue eyes in his direction. It takes all of Yuuji’s courage to not run away screaming and join Fushiguro on the couch instead.

"So, uh." He clears his throat and sits straighter in an attempt to appear more confident. "I believe you owe me an explanation now. Why did you say it was actually Gojo-sensei’s favor to you instead of the other way around, like you’ve been claiming? And…what does it all mean?"

At first, Fushiguro doesn’t say anything in reply. For a tense moment, Yuuji wonders if he’s going to ignore him and just avoid the question entirely. But then Fushiguro sighs in capitulation and starts to speak.

"On the day we met at the clinic, I was the reason why Gojo-sensei wasn’t around to see to your pet."

"So Gojo-sensei’s impromptu vacation…"

"Was my fault, yes." Fushiguro’s eyes dart away, and his hands pick restlessly at the fabric of his pants. He’s afraid of seeing Yuuji’s reaction, that much is clear. "But I didn’t go in unprepared, I promise. Gojo-sensei told me in advance, based on Sukuna’s symptoms, what the likely cause behind his illness was. And I did plenty of research beforehand on other possibilities too, just to be safe. I never had any intention of putting your pet at risk or harming you in any way. But ultimately, that’s no excuse for what I did. When it came down to it, I was being selfish and acted on my own personal feelings. There is no one here to blame but me."  

And while Yuuji had a sinking suspicion all along that this might’ve been the case, he’s still unprepared to hear Fushiguro confirm it so blatantly. But a more pressing question than the issue at hand is…

"Why? Why would you go so far just to do this?"

"I—God, this is going to sound so stupid," Fushiguro groans, burying his face into his hands. He takes a few seconds to collect himself before daring to raise his eyes to meet Yuuji’s once more. "Do you remember what you said to me on our graduation day?"

Only every goddamn day, Yuuji thinks.

"I…might remember, yes," Yuuji says. "Possibly. But I think you should remind me, just so we’re on the same page."

“Ugh.” Fushiguro rolls his eyes, clearly reluctant to dredge up such old memories. Well, good. Yuuji has been carrying this shame with him for the past seven years. It’s about time he share this burden with someone else. All the better if it’s Fushiguro, the source of it all to begin with.

"You took me outside and told me to live a full life." He glares at Yuuji like it’s his fault that he’s embarrassed. Which, yeah, Yuuji supposes it kind of is. "Do you remember now?"

"I mean, I guess I do. But what does it have to do with anything?"

The change in Fushiguro’s body language at his question is instantaneous, going from defensive to defeated. And the sight of Fushiguro—normally such a self-assured man—losing his composure and curling into himself in distress, is not one Yuuji wants to witness ever again. "I don’t know how much Gojo-sensei and Maki-san have told you, but high school was really not a good time for me."

For the first time, Yuuji finally learns about what happened to Fushiguro during those three fateful years. From Tsumiki’s accident and resulting coma to his father’s sudden reappearance into their lives, right before disappearing again out of the blue. How the Zen’in family had refused to support Tsumiki, leaving Fushiguro to turn to Gojo out of desperation for assistance instead. The more Yuuji hears about Fushiguro’s story, the more his heart breaks for him. Fushiguro had never shown any visible signs of distress in school aside from his usual detachment and irritability, so it’s shocking to realize that this had all been going on behind the scenes.

"It’s true, I never put much thought into school before this happened. But then my sister was gone, and I wasn’t sure if she was ever going to come back. I knew then, that I had to start taking my studies seriously. So that, if things got worse, I could make a living and earn enough to support her."

His hands start to shake with fine tremors. Yuuji grasps them in his by instinct, seeking to comfort. Any fears of overstepping his boundaries are proven unfounded when Fushiguro laces their fingers together, holding back every bit as tightly. Soothed by the contact, Fushiguro takes a deep breath and continues.

"At the time, using the Zen’in family name to become a doctor seemed like the only logical course of action. And almost everyone I knew pressured me into making that decision, ever since I could remember, to continue the family legacy or some bullshit like that. I never wanted to be one, of course, and Tsumiki knew it. She used to tell me, in her own way, to be whatever I wanted, to follow my dreams, and become a vet instead. But then she was gone, and I realized how naïve I’d been in thinking I had any real choice in the matter. So even though I didn’t want to, I worked hard to get into Todai. To become a doctor, because I didn’t see any other way out."

"But that’s just too unfair…" Yuuji says sadly, squeezing their hands firmer together. The old Fushiguro he remembers had been so smart, so capable, so determined. He could do anything he set his mind to and worked harder than anyone else to accomplish it. Whatever he wanted to achieve in life should’ve been left up to him, not to the whims of an estranged family who cared only about their social standing. "No one should have any right to decide your life for you. That should’ve been your choice to make."

"I didn’t know it then, but I do now," Fushiguro says. His smile is weak and watery, but it’s a smile nonetheless, and Yuuji will take his victories where he can. "And I have you to thank for it."

Yuuji stares back at him, uncomprehending. "Me?"

But Fushiguro only laughs, eyes soft with gratitude. It takes Yuuji’s breath away, to be regarded with such tender affection. But then Fushiguro ducks his head down, bashful, and the spell is broken.

"Even before graduation, I’ve always admired you so much, you know," Fushiguro admits, eyes drawn to their intertwined fingers. He loosens his grip so he can trace nonsense patterns over Yuuji’s palms, leaving a trail of sparks behind everywhere he touched. "You were kind, friendly, and genuine. You cared deeply for the people around you, and everyone else, in turn, was drawn to you as well. When your grandfather passed, I wanted to say something to you—offer you my condolences, perhaps—but I felt like it wasn’t my right." He hesitates. "Well, no… that was just the excuse I made up to justify for my own cowardice.

"The truth is, I felt ashamed, every time I looked at you. I handled my loss poorly, pushing everyone away and throwing myself into my studies for no real purpose other than to distract myself from reality. But you kept smiling, even in the face of adversity. You stayed true to yourself and kept going in spite of your grief. I could never have hoped to be even half as strong as you were, back then. So that’s why, when you told me to live a full life, it felt like… I don’t know, it felt like the world was trying to tell me something. And then I realized how disappointed Tsumiki would be in me if I gave up just like that. If—no, when she woke up and found out I’d thrown my future away for her sake, she’d never have forgiven me. So I made up my mind and worked with Gojo-sensei behind everyone’s backs to apply to study abroad and become a vet, like I’ve always dreamed of doing."

"…All this because I told you to live a full life?" Yuuji says, incredulous.

Fushiguro flushes and fidgets with his jacket sleeve. "It’s just, I looked up to you so much, and what you said back then meant a lot to me. I know it must sound really strange and creepy for you to hear now, though. Sorry."

The notion that Fushiguro used to hold him in such regard is absolutely mind-blowing. But he seems uncomfortable now that this fact is out in the open. Why? Didn’t he know how crazy Yuuji was over him in high school? This knowledge is flattering to a ridiculous degree.

Yuuji just needs to express this in a way that doesn’t make him sound strange and creepy himself. Something to start off slow. Play it cool.

"Did you know that I was crazy over you in high school? Because I was."

…Or he could go with that. Why the fuck not.

Fushiguro chokes, just a little. "What?"

"Like, deadass," Yuuji confirms. It’s too late for any regrets. Gramps had always said that his shamelessness was one of his biggest flaws, and now Yuuji is going to prove him wrong by using it to woo the man of his dreams. "Literally all of my friends knew that I had the world’s biggest crush on you. The Supernatural Club kept giving me pro-tips on how to sweep you off your feet. Sasaki-senpai was super invested in us, too. She told me her biggest regret was that I never got a chance to confess to you before I graduated."

Fushiguro continues to stare at him like a deer caught in the headlights. "Uh."

"That was what I’d meant to do on graduation day, by the way," Yuuji clarifies. "Confess to you, I mean. When I pulled you outside. Not tell you to live a full life. That was my bad."

"…Oh." Fushiguro considers this. "Huh. That works too."

"I know it was weird. I probably looked insane."

"You did," Fushiguro agrees, because he could never settle for being anything less than brutally honest. "Actually, I’d thought at the time that you were planning on beating me up for sending you to detention in freshman year. This whole time I was so sure that you never liked me and found me off-putting."

"To be fair, beating other people up seems more like your kind of thing," Yuuji points out. The bonk to the head Yuuji receives for this statement only cements it further. He laughs it off and grabs Fushiguro’s hand to cradle it gently in his once more. "And you were kind of a hardass, but like, in a good way.” At Fushiguro’s blank stare, he elaborates, “Your hall monitor schtick was really hot. Everything about you was, and still is."

"Ah," Fushiguro says, sounding faint.

"I never blamed you for what happened that day, by the way. I’m sure my detention sentence was well-deserved."

"Very." Fushiguro frowns severely. "I caught you right as you were about to eat a finger."

"It was just a paper mâché prop."

"An ancient one that’d been lying around in god-knows-where for god-knows-how-long. I don’t even remember the name of the play it was used for."

"That’s funny. Neither do I."

They both snort at this before quickly devolving into full-blown laughter. It just feels so good to finally clear the air between them. To realize that all these years he’d spent pining over Fushiguro actually meant something.

He pulls the other man closer, emboldened. Fushiguro goes easily, settling himself in his lap, slender arms coming to curl around his shoulders.

Yuuji looks up and sees his own smile reflected in deep pools of blue. "I can’t believe I’m not dreaming. For so long, this was all I wanted. And now I finally have you."

"You’re awfully confident for a guy who’s never had the guts to actually give me a proper confession." The curve of Fushiguro’s lips is sly and deadly and full of promise. "What was it you told me? Live a full life? How romantic."

"Hey, in my defense, I wasn’t sure if you even knew I existed back then, let alone returned my feelings," Yuuji pouts. "You can’t blame me for wimping out last minute."

"Oh, yes, everything about you was completely unremarkable," Fushiguro says drily. "Especially that one occasion when you were challenged to a shotput match and you threw the damn thing like a fucking baseball, and I jacked off to that for the next six months straight."

Yuuji’s brain practically melts at the very idea of Fushiguro touching himself. Touching himself to thoughts of Yuuji.

"You wanted me too," he breathes out in disbelief. "You really do like me."

Has liked me, his running internal monologue corrects for him. Has liked me for all these years.

"Unfortunately," Fushiguro deadpans. But Yuuji can tell, from his pink cheeks and averted eyes, that he’s getting flustered again. God, he’s so cute. Yuuji wants to devour him. "Why are we still talking? Are you seriously going to make me spill all of my embarrassing life secrets before we even get to first base—"

But he never gets the chance to complete his sentence because Yuuji surges up to kiss him, hands pulling at Fushiguro's clothes to grab at whatever skin he can find purchase in.

And not much talking gets done after that.

---

Yuuji wakes up to the sight of Fushiguro Megumi lying naked in his arms, and closes his eyes once more.

He’s had this wet dream before. Plenty of times, even. Fushiguro has the dubious honor of being Yuuji's most recurring guest star in a majority of the wet dreams he’s had since high school, just narrowly beating out Jennifer Lawrence by a solid five percent. Then he has the sudden realization that, A) this is way too tame for his usual wet dreams because, B) he usually dreams of the naughty parts and not the aftermath, which could only mean, C) holy shit, this isn’t a dream at all, abort abort abort.

"It’s far too early in the morning for you to be freaking out like this," Fushiguro grumbles into Yuuji’s neck, stirring from his slumber.

This is when Yuuji finds out, belatedly, that he’d been squeezing Fushiguro tighter in his growing panic. Oops.

He lets go with a sheepish grin and watches as Fushiguro shifts to lay himself on his belly, chin cushioned by his forearms. Through the curtains, a stray sunbeam catches on his prone form, bathing him in lovely hues of gold and orange. Now that it’s daytime, it’s easy to see the dark bruises littered all over his body, on his wrists, his hips, his waist, his thighs. Imprints of Yuuji’s hands on him, marking his ivory skin like a brand.

Fushiguro’s eyes shine a brilliant turquoise under the morning light, and his smile is more radiant than the sun at its peak.

"Good morning, Itadori," he says, voice syrupy sweet with lazy contentedness.

A One-Hit KO to the heart, but a Power-Up to his dick. Super effective on all accounts. Yuuji wants nothing more than to press him back into the sheets and do unspeakable things to him until the next day comes.

Then his stomach rumbles and reminds him that he does have a life outside of boning Fushiguro 24/7, most regrettably.

"Uh, good morning to you too," he says in response to Fushiguro’s amused look. "Stay for breakfast? I’ll make us some."

Fushiguro shrugs, drawing attention to the monstrous hickey on his right clavicle. Did Yuuji really do that to him last night? Jesus. He resolves to lend Fushiguro a turtleneck or a scarf later. There’s no way Yuuji is letting him walk home like that.

"Anything you in the mood for?" Yuuji asks as he grabs a shirt and a pair of boxers from his drawer and puts them on. He tosses another set at Fushiguro, who likewise dresses himself before following Yuuji out into the living room. He sits down at the dining table while Yuuji goes behind the kitchen counter to prepare some instant coffee for the two of them.

"Whatever’s fine."

"Are you sure?" Yuuji’s grin is mischievous. "Can you really afford to trust the tastes of a guy who was willing to eat a grimy old paper prop off the floor?"

"So even you’ll admit it was disgusting. That’s a first," Fushiguro remarks, sardonic. He jabs an accusing finger in Yuuji's direction. "And you’re not getting rid of me so easily. Not after all the effort I’d spent in tracking you down to begin with."

Yuuji perks up, curiosity getting the better of him. "Oh yeah? And how did that happen?"

When Fushiguro appears hesitant to answer, Yuuji knows he’ll have to resort to drastic measures. He walks to the dining table, a steaming mug of coffee in each hand, and purposely sets them down just shy of Fushiguro’s reaching fingers.

"No coffee or breakfast until you tell me," he declares.

Fushiguro frowns, slumping down. He’s always so lethargic in the mornings—yet another one of his myriad charm points. "You’re being a terrible host," he says petulantly.

The desire to give in is strong, but Yuuji steels his heart. "Sacrifices have to be made in the name of answers sometimes," Yuuji announces sagely, "and I’m holding your coffee hostage until you spill the beans. Come on, what’re you being so shy for? Didn’t we already have a really nice heart-to-heart last night?"

Fushiguro glares at him for a couple more seconds before sighing in defeat. "Fine. I'll give. What do you want to know?"

Bingo. Yuuji slides one mug over with a satisfied smirk.

"For starters, how did you find me?"

"I heard about you from Gojo-sensei," Fushiguro says, in between small sips of his drink. "I don’t remember when or how exactly, but he brought up a cat he was having some difficulty with at work and mentioned you by name. And when he further described you to me, I was positive that I’d found the right person after all. After that, it was just a matter of convincing him to let me take his place the next time you had an appointment with him."

Huh… those conniving bastards…

But Yuuji’s too impressed and, against all odds, touched by their collective subterfuge to actually feel any true offense regarding the matter. It’s nice to know that, after all this time, Fushiguro had been thinking about him as much as he did of Fushiguro.

Still, something about the narrative seems a little too fishy.

"And Gojo-sensei agreed, just like that?" Yuuji says, dubious. "To travel overseas on such short notice simply because you asked him to? There’s got to be an easier way of catching my attention than this, surely."

"Of course I know that," Fushiguro snaps back, scowl darkening. "And what kind of saint do you take him for? No, I had to bribe him for this opportunity. Plus, I was under the impression that he’d take a sick day off at the very most, not fly off to fucking Hawaii for his nonexistent honeymoon."

(What Megumi doesn’t tell Itadori, is that Gojo had barely been in Hawaii for more than a day before he'd blown all of his bribe money on a truly obscene amount of piña coladas.

“So this is the fabled drink of the Americans!” Gojo had crowed into his phone, drunk out of his mind.

He’d woken Megumi up in the middle of the night for this nonsense. Megumi was absolutely going to murder him the moment he landed back on Japanese soil.

But Gojo only continued, oblivious to Megumi’s rising homicidal intent. "Man, the cocktails here are really something else, you should try them sometime, Megumi! And don’t even get me started on the little paper umbrellas they put in each drink I order, oh my goodness, they’re just too cute! Suguru, Suguru! Trade me for your pink one, will you? No, the one with the smiling pineapples on it."

And Megumi had to hang up before he gave in to the desire to fly off to Hawaii himself just to kick Gojo’s inebriated ass, consequences be damned.)

"I had to substitute for Gojo-sensei for an entire week. That’s seven days too long for me to be interacting with other people on a regular basis," Fushiguro grouses. "Do you know how stressed out I was by the end of it?"

"Aww, poor Fushiguro," Yuuji teases, "forced to participate in civilized society like a normal human being. It must’ve been so hard on you."

"Laugh all you want, but I don’t regret a single moment of it," Fushiguro says, with resounding finality. He peers up at Yuuji from beneath impossibly long lashes, the barest hint of a shy smile peeking over the rim of his mug. "Because it’s what finally led me back to you, in the end."

Somewhere above, a choir of angels starts to sing. The sun shines a little brighter in the sky.

(Water is wet; the Earth is round; and Itadori Yuuji is deeply, wonderfully, maddeningly in love with Fushiguro Megumi.

That’s just how the world works.)

He stands up, walks around the circumference of his table, gets down on one knee in front of Fushiguro, and clasps Fushiguro’s hands in his. It’s probably a little too early to ask Fushiguro to marry him, as much as he wants to, but he’ll settle for the next best thing.

"Fushiguro Megumi, I’ve been in love with you since the day you sent me to detention in freshman year of high school. Will you please go out with me?"

And Fushiguro laughs in delight, leans down to press little butterfly kisses onto Yuuji’s skin, and whispers in an endless mantra, “Yes, yes, yes.”

Two years after asking Megumi out and subsequently defiling him against every available surface of his tiny apartment, Yuuji officially moves into the Fushiguro residence for good.

And when he returns, exhausted after a long day of work, he opens the door to see: A pair of dogs rushing up to him with wagging tails and excited barks. From the pond, the sound of frogs croaking intermingles with the subdued hooting of a nearby owl. A large white snake is coiled up on the patio, and the garden outside is filled to the brim with rabbits. Among them lies a pink ball of fluff, lounging about lazily and regarding him with intelligent ruby eyes.

From the sofa, Megumi rises to greet him with a warm cup of tea and an even warmer smile. As he walks over, the lights catch on a golden band around his ring finger, Yuuji's most recent gift to him symbolizing their eternal devotion to each other.

"Yuuji," he says, leaning in for a kiss and reaching forward to lace their hands together. "Welcome home."

And Yuuji smiles, heart overflowing with endless gratitude, so full of love he feels drunk on it, and follows Megumi back inside.

(I’m home, I’m home, I’m home.)