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Itadori changed.
In a way, everyone did. The Shibuya incident had been too much for everyone and had shaken society in a way that seemed surreal, especially for how suddenly, how quick it was.
But it was bound to happen –Megumi thought– after all, the equilibrium was precarious from the beginning. A flimsy thing that needed to be adjusted with the born of a single child.
Yes, everyone changed, but Itadori’s change was something that even stood out in that catastrophe that resembled more a post-apocalyptic world.
The first thing he noticed when he found him was the lack of that sunny smile he had had since they met.
It was understandable. According to Todo, he saw Nanami-san’s death, and if that wasn’t enough, he also saw the moment Kugisaki was almost killed. That and what Sukuna did on Shibuya…
He would be crazy if he could act naturally after such events.
When he spoke to Itadori that time he found him, he made an expression that struck Megumi as the same a wounded animal would make. But the thing with wounded animals is that they will either run or attack, and Itadori chose to attack him.
Yelling, trying to make him go far away, asking him what the heck was he doing? asking him if he didn’t remember the words he told him in the correctional.
“I’ve killed too many people. I’m your worst-case scenario.” he had told him, fury and pain combined in his face in a way that made Megumi himself ache.
And Megumi knew, oh Megumi knew.
There was no way he couldn’t think about it when he saw the crater in the city when he headed that way. But he also knew something else.
“It’s my fault too.”
Because the reason behind the destruction of the city was him, of course. He had heard what Sukuna said when he came to save him while he was in that state of suspended death. He had listened to the destruction and had felt in his bones the exorcism he did to his most powerful shikigami. He felt how he took his body and put him in a place where the chaos seemed far away. And he couldn’t do anything to stop him, he could just stay there, death for the world. Seeing how he who was supposed to die lived and how people who were supposed to live died.
And all because he was weak.
He was weak, and he depended on Mahogara again, just in the way he had been weak, and he couldn’t save Itadori and his friends the fateful day Itadori ate that cursed finger.
“Don’t try to distribute the blame. This is…” Itadori had started telling him, with more severity in his voice that he thought he was capable of, but Megumi interrupted him.
“Maybe if we are together, we can be strong enough to make this the last time it happens.”
“You don’t know what you’re saying, Sukuna is…”
“Yes, I know he is planning something, and it has to do with me. But just having you running away from me it’s not going to solve anything.” He tried to mimic the same severity he had heard in Itadori’s voice, but the only thing that came from his words was desperation. “Every time we try to carry the burden for ourselves, something like his happens. But if we do it together, maybe… this is our burden Itadori. You saved me that night, and I saved you. We have to keep saving each other.”
Itadori yielded after he said that, but there was something raw in the way he saw him. Something so potent that sent a chill on his bones.
“Alright…” he said, like tasting his words. “…if you let me save you, then I agree.”
Itadori had always been protective. Like a dog. Always going in his way to risk his life for everyone he knew, he was fierce and decisive, and he had always admired that part of him. But this was different.
It didn’t matter how small the wound, even if it was just a scratch, he had Yuji hovering over him, watching him in that same raw way he saw him the time he agreed.
“You told me that you would let me.” he reminded him when Megumi complained that he didn’t need to have him over him every time something grazed him.
“I told you that I would let you save me, not that I would let you inspect every little cut I get every day.”
He hummed, his rough hands lightly touching the cut in his left hand. The way he did it –oh so gentle, like he could break– made his heart skip a beat, especially when he stopped and squeezed his hand, his eyes on him in a form that made his cheeks burn.
“Sorry, I won’t stop.”
He had to slap himself internally to be able to react.
“Don’t say sorry if you don’t feel it,” he said, punching him in the arm, and if he didn’t see his eyes, he could pretend this was way before the world fell apart.
It was weird to see him so soft and then see him obliterate the city's curses like a storm.
A demon god was the thing that Choso called him once in a while, and Megumi had to agree, at least that’s how he was on the battlefield.
Pure power, it even intimidated some curses. Itadori had always been ridiculously strong, but this was something new, it would scare him if he didn’t live with Gojo for so long, but he did. He recognized the same killing intent, the same deranged way of fighting to destroy, and in a way, it was like home.
“You okay?” Itadori asked every time he finished his rampage, his eyes inspecting him for wounds regardless of his answer.
“Obviously.”
“Good.” and he would make a small smile if he really was okay – just a shadow of the one in his memories – his eyes going softer in the edges. A broad arm would go around his shoulders, and he would let him because the only time he didn’t and pushed him away, Itadori had looked at him as if he just stabbed him. “Let’s see what we can eat; I’m starving.”
And his mind would forget about the smell he had after fighting or how he looked just mere minutes ago to prioritize the closeness and the way his heart would beat so hard that it made his chest hurt, all his body feeling like cotton except for the part he was touching him. It was unfair because Itadori seemed perfectly fine doing that kind of stuff. He was even looking like he contained himself.
Considering that, Megumi should have expected that he would ask for even more in the future.
And he did, but he didn’t expect him to be in the form of a kiss.
It had been a day when they had to fight some sorcerers that had found them. Recognizing Itadori as Sukuna’s vessel, they went for a fight, thinking that since the register still placed Megumi as a grade 2 sorcerer and Itadori wasn’t even in the rank, they could take them down and win some credits to ascend.
A mistake, of course.
But the problem was that one of the sorcerers’ jujutsu was based on illusions, and observing how protective got Yuji when one of the attacks went to Megumi, he quickly tried to use it against him.
Another mistake.
Megumi didn’t know what the illusion was exactly – and he wasn’t going to ask– but Choso had to stop Itadori from killing the man and Megumi himself had to slap him and assure him that he was okay.
“I will carry these to a place other sorcerers can find them,” Choso said, pointing the two unconscious sorcerers. But it was probably an excuse; he was sensing the storm to come and went away from it, knowing that he couldn’t do anything.
Megumi nodded and watched him go away with the two men on his shoulders. Once he did, he focused on Itadori.
He was standing, his eyes in the asphalt, and he looked so quiet in contrast to the ball of range he was just moments ago that it was disturbing.
He slapped him again.
“I’m here, you idiot,” he said. Wondering how he was supposed to act to return him to normal. He was so unpredictable now… well, he was unpredictable before, but even then he was able to tell what was happening, but now? It was like walking in a minefield at night.
Yuuji raised his head, and Megumi automatically braced himself. He gave two strides, invading his personal space like nothing. Megumi noticed that he had to look up to watch him in the eyes now, and he wondered when he had time to grow so much, how he didn’t realize.
Itadori took his forearms, shaking that easily his thoughts about growth, and before he noticed, his mouth was on his.
Even if Megumi had a ‘delinquent past,’ most of the things about kisses and dating he had come from books.
Books described the former with elegant words, almost little poems in the middle of the prose that made him wonder if the author was on drugs and if his editor wanted to indulge him by allowing that.
He only received a confirmation of that now.
This was no poem, not dainty, carefully picked words that made everything seem like a garden full of pink.
This was the embodiment of hunger, aggressive, draining. His body attempted to return some of it without his mind’s consent and ultimately drowned for whatever was powering Itadori. His knees felt weak, and he had to grasp at Itadori’s shoulders when he felt like falling. The latter changed the position of his hands from his arms to his waist and back, and that made it even worst.
He had never felt so little, so powerless, not even before Sukuna, fighting a battle bound to be lost. And he found out that he didn’t mind; he didn’t mind being cuddled and guarded from the world in Itadori’s arms.
Itadori just separated when he was two seconds from fainting, but he didn’t let him go. Megumi was so dizzy that he didn’t have the mind to be ashamed about the fact he was panting heavily over the other's lips. The only thing processing was the tingle that remained in every inch of his body.
“What happened?” he asked him when his brain started to clear up. He hoped his voice could carry that he wasn’t just asking for the kiss but for his attitude about him since they met again. And thank god it did.
Itadori looked at him with that rawness that was familiar now, and he was amused to think that a twisted part of him liked it.
“I think… I think I’m going to go crazy if something happens to you,” he said. The hand he had in his back going to his cheek. “It was horrible to see Nanami die, to see Kugisaki fall… but just the idea of you dying… I can’t. I will go insane.”
Megumi felt something dropping quickly in his stomach, his heart beating even more loudly if it was possible. Because he knew immediately that he meant it, it wasn’t a way of talking, a dramatic way of saying that he cared about him. No. Itadori was deadly serious. And it should be scary. He should be trembling knowing what madness meant in Itadori –Sukuna’s vessel– he should be making a decision since leaving Itadori alive, knowing that something like his death was like hanging Damocle’s blade over Japan, was more than irresponsible.
Yet he didn’t. He didn’t feel fear; he didn’t tremble; he didn’t make the more reasonable decision.
He smiled at him, attempting to do it the same way Itadori used to, but he knew that on him, it was just a small curve.
“I won’t die,” he said, his hand going to the one in his cheek. “We are a team now. We are bearing with this together until the end.”
Itadori’s eyes went soft again. He felt his body relaxing as he put his head in the crook of Megumi’s neck. The warmth of his breath made him shiver.
“Yeah…” he said. Both arms in his waist again, pulling him more tightly into the solid mass that his body. He found that he didn’t mind, and probably he wouldn’t mind if Itadori grew more. “…Together,” he whispered.
He cuddled with him at night that day.
He wasn’t used to sleeping with another person, but for some reason doing it with Itadori felt right, like he belonged here, kissing him and caressing him like he was made of porcelain.
He knew he should be annoyed at least, be treated like this when he was a capable sorcerer was insulting, but again, Itadori was the exception. Knowing that this came from his desire to protect and not him thinking he was inferior to him helped, he guessed.
“I didn’t say it properly before…” Itadori said, breaking his train of thought. “…but I really love you.” Each word was entangled with honesty with something he couldn’t even put a name to, and it made him want to cry, want to laugh, but he just let out a sigh and closed his eyes. Itadori went to comb through strands of his hair while pressing his head against his chest. Megumi suddenly understood why this was a common thing in the romantic movies Nobara made him watch; it felt like heaven.
“Hmmm…”
“You’re supposed to say ‘me too,’” Itadori said, a slight hint of playfulness in his voice. Megumi embraced it.
“Make me Oyakodon tomorrow, and maybe I will.”
A chuckle, he felt the temptation of pretending that this was before everything went to hell, but he found himself happy with the present.
“Okay,” Itadori said simply. That demon god that Choso described dripping fondness, the hands who could throw cars and crush the asphalt, continued touching him delicately.
Itadori changed, everyone did, but in the core, he was just the same.