Chapter Text
April. (Yuji)
The school year started off innocently enough, amongst pale clouds of cherry blossoms, swirling in the cool spring breeze, coating the ground like snow. Early morning light drifted into a modest bedroom, in a small apartment on the outskirts of Tokyo. The room was littered with magazines and empty chip packets, a half-drunk can of vending machine coffee forgotten on a cluttered shelf, clothes scattered across the floor like little mounds. A hazy sliver of sun crept slowly over walls that were plastered with movie posters, Trainspotting, Empire Records, My Own Private Idaho, Fight Club… somewhere an alarm was chiming.
Yuji rolled over in bed, eyes closed, groping for the nightstand. He yawned, fingers automatically going for the snooze button. Wait, he remembered — it’s the first day of school! A jolt of excitement rushed through him as he clambered out of bed. Making his way down the hall to the bathroom, he passed his twin brother’s room and rapped loudly on the door.
“Sukuna, wake up!” he called through the door. No reply. His brother was a night owl, staying up well past midnight most nights, even when they had to be up early the next day. Me-time, Sukuna had explained with a shrug. Which generally meant drinking, either with company or alone. Last night must have been with company, as he had not come home by the time Yuji went to bed.
After washing up, Yuji made his way back to his room, pausing in front of Sukuna’s door again, knocking resolutely. He was rewarded with a terse “fuck off.” Yuji smiled, at least his brother was awake. Back in his room, he got dressed, grabbing a clean t-shirt out of his closet, a pair of not-so-clean Levi’s off the floor, finishing with his favorite yellow hoodie. Notebook, pencils, course schedule, phone… he went over his mental checklist, dropping things into his backpack. On the corner of his desk sat an old Magic 8-Ball, a souvenir from Megumi after a trip to the States. Although Yuji did not particularly believe in superstitions, he had gotten into the habit of checking the Magic 8-Ball like an everyday ritual.
“Is anything interesting going to happen this year?” He asked aloud, giving the ball a good shake (it could only answer “yes” or “no” questions). He peered at the little round window on the base, illuminated in blue — Signs point to yes.
Satisfied, he busied himself in the kitchen, toasting up two thick slices of bread, slathering them generously in butter, and topping off with a dab of blueberry jam. He ate one slowly with a cup of tea, sitting at the small breakfast table by the balcony window, thoughts drifting as he gazed at the cherry blossoms outside. In the background, he was dimly aware of his brother’s heavy steps, water running, cabinets opening and slamming shut. On the table, his phone chimed, bringing him out of his reverie. It was Choso.
Meet at 8:30, main gate?
Yuji texted back: OK :)
At the entryway, he paused to check his reflection in the mirror. His hair was a mess, but other than that, he looked alright. As a joke, the twins had decided to dye their hair red at the end of term, which had now faded to a soft shade of pink. (“It brings out your eyes,” Megumi had said).
“Sukuna!” Yuji hollered down the hall.
“Coming!” was the gruff reply.
“Toast on the table for you,” Yuji yelled back.
He slipped on his red high-tops, a rare pair of vintage Jordan 1’s that he took great pride in. Stepping out of the apartment, he inhaled deeply, savoring the warm sunlight on his face; the fragrant mountain air was laced with a lingering winter chill, invigorating his senses. Yuji loved mornings like this, when the air smelled fresh and sweet, and the sun was still gentle.
Moments later, his twin emerged, a leather jacket draped over his shoulders, the slice of toast between his teeth as he pulled on his boots. As usual, he was wearing dark ripped jeans and a vintage tee featuring a band Yuji had never heard of. Despite waking up late, Yuji noticed that he had managed to style his hair and put on aftershave as he caught a whiff of his brother’s distinctive, masculine and woody scent in the morning air.
Although they were identical twins, it never failed to amaze Yuji how they managed to look so different; their shared features, big brown eyes and wide smile, which appeared soft and boyish on Yuji, somehow took on a sharp and alluring quality on Sukuna’s face. He was effortlessly cool while Yuji felt endlessly awkward. Sukuna had gotten tattoos during their first year of college, bold, black markings around his forearms, up his chest and down his back, visible even over the collar of his shirt, which only made him look more enticing and dangerous. Tattoos were still frowned upon in Japan, but Sukuna could care less. Sometimes Yuji wished he could be more like him, indifferent and carefree. Instead, he felt like he was constantly plagued with anxieties, big and small, although he tried his best not to let them show.
“Morning,” Yuji said cheerfully. Sukuna groaned in reply.
“I thought we agreed not to pick morning classes this year,” he grumbled through bites of toast, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.
“Well maybe someone shouldn’t have stayed out so late last night,” Yuji retorted. “Besides, Kamo only has the one morning session for Ethnography. Unless you want to take the Friday afternoon course with Gakuganji.”
“Ugh, not that wrinkled old fossil,” Sukuna scrunched up his face and Yuji burst out laughing.
In high spirits, the twins headed off towards campus, a scenic walk from their shared apartment. It was the first day of term at Takao Gakuen University, a private institution nestled in the mountainous shadows of Chichibu-Tama-Kai National Park, a stone’s throw from central Tokyo — 38 minutes from Shinjuku station on the Chuo Special Rapid line, to be exact.
It was the kind of small, elite university with a historic legacy, distinguished professors, and a prohibitively expensive tuition, which attracted the wealthy parents of children who did not quite make the cut for Todai, or Waseda, or any of the other reputable schools in the Kanto region. Yet others chose the university for its secluded location and small student body, guaranteeing privacy for the offspring of political figures, celebrities, and other upper crust members of society. All in all, it had a reputation for being a rather exclusive school.
In fact, Yuji and Sukuna’s upbringing could not have been more different from that world. They had lost both parents at a young age, and were raised by their grandfather, a gruff, penny-pinching man, who seemed to grow more sullen and unsociable with each passing year. Miserly as he was, Grandpa Itadori was not unkind; and, although he was rather hands-off when it came down to the details of their day-to-day lives, he provided a stable and safe environment for the twins. Without fail, he had instilled in them the importance of a good education, enrolling them in top schools, pushing them to study hard and excel. It’s better to be smart than rich, Gramps would say.
In an ironic twist, when he died, they found out that he had accumulated a respectable amount of wealth, which was bequeathed entirely to the twins. On top of that, the university accepted both boys on full scholarships, due to their outstanding academic records and underprivileged background, a point that the Dean, an army sergeant of a man, liked to reiterate to highlight just how diverse his institution was. And that was how they ended up at a school like Takao.
The university was a long walk from the twins’ apartment, thirty-ish minutes on a good day; although it was much quicker to bike, Yuji enjoyed the leisurely route, the narrow tree-lined roads winding through quiet residential neighborhoods, dotted with hole-in-the-wall coffee shops and old family-run convenience stores. They stopped in for coffee to-go at one of these places — black for Sukuna, au lait for Yuji — and continued on, with Yuji chatting brightly as Sukuna listened quietly, not yet fully awake.
Soon, they came upon the campus, its elegant historic buildings and gleaming renovations rising amongst overgrown pines, on a sprawling, sloping green land. As they approached the main gate, Yuji’s eyes lit up, spotting a familiar figure standing below blossoming cherry trees.
“Choso!” he shouted, running ahead with a wide smile.
Choso Kamo was one of their closest friends, practically an older brother. They had met in high school, when the twins transferred from Sendai, when their grandfather had taken ill and needed special care at a private hospital in Tokyo. He was one of the richest kids at their prep school, the heir to a major publishing empire. Despite their differences, they took a liking to each other and maintained a steady friendship ever since. Although Choso was a year older than the twins, he had taken a gap year after high school, which meant that they were now all in the same graduating year.
“Hey Yuji, Sukuna,” he greeted the twins warmly. “Had a good Spring holiday?”
“Yeah, it was chill, we didn’t do much,” Yuji replied with a shrug.
“Well, I wanted to go to Okinawa, but he just wanted to stay home the entire time,” Sukuna added, earning a jab in the ribs from his brother. Everyone knew that Yuji was a bona fide homebody, although he was loath to admit it.
Choso laughed, a rare burst lighting up his serious features. After being home for an entire month with only Sukuna for company, Yuji was glad to see him.
Choso was tall, with broad shoulders and toned muscles sculpted under ivory skin; he had black, shoulder-length hair and deep, stone-grey eyes that further accentuated his paleness. When they first met, Yuji thought he looked like a Greek statue brought to life, all chiseled, and stoic, and imposing. He had a way of looking down his nose, eyes half-lidded, which gave off a haughty and disinterested air, much to the annoyance of those on the receiving end. As if to emphasize this, he dressed in a sophisticated manner, in horn-rimmed glasses, dark suits, crisp white shirts, and sweeping black overcoats; not unlike the way his executive father dressed. The Slytherin prince, his classmates would tease.
“Shall we head in?” Choso asked. He had a way of intoning questions so that they sounded like statements.
Yuji looked around. “Where’s Megumi?” The last member of their party. Sukuna glanced up from his coffee.
“He texted me earlier, he’s running late,” Choso stated, in his low monotone.
They made their way to the lecture hall, housed in a historic building on the west side of campus. Built in the late 1800s, it was a stately brick structure, with richly carpeted floors, mahogany-paneled walls, and soaring, wrought-iron windows. Originally a medical hall, it was converted into the humanities wing after the science departments were relocated to the renovated East campus. Upon crossing its dim threshold, one was greeted by a stately two-story foyer, a handsome split staircase, and a distinctive, musty odor, like the smell of old books. (“Just like Hogwarts!” Yuji had exclaimed excitedly, the first time they set foot inside the building during freshman year).
Yuji and his friends were in their third year of the undergraduate anthropology program, a major recommended by Choso, whose uncle was an esteemed professor within the department. However, unlike Choso, who pursued knowledge with an ambitious fervor, or Megumi, who was a high-achieving perfectionist, Yuji had always struggled with academics, no matter how hard he tried. Even Sukuna, who despised formal education, consistently outperformed him; although to his credit, Sukuna was much smarter than he looked. So when it came time to select a major, Yuji was more than happy to let someone else lead the way. He was not particularly passionate about anthropology, or any other subject, for that matter, but he liked being with his friends, and it was a flexible enough discipline that allowed him to keep his career options open.
Although the anthropology department was comparatively small, certain courses, like Ethnography Seminar, were open to students of other majors. As the boys made their way into the hall, Yuji could already see that it was going to be a full class. The room was moderately sized, unchanged since the building’s inception; it sat no more than 50 students in elegant, curving wooden desks and benches, ascending in an amphitheater design, with an elevated lectern and long chalkboard at one end. Choso climbed up the steps, settling in the back row, the twins following behind. Yuji set his bag down on the bench, saving a seat for Megumi, who had yet to arrive. He noticed curious glances and hushed whispers from the other students as they walked by; after all, Choso was one of the most eligible bachelors on campus, and Sukuna, well, he had a different sort of reputation.
At 9:00 on the dot, Professor Kamo walked in, and the room fell to a hush.
“Good morning, class,” he greeted with a big smile. “You all must be eager lovers of ethnography to attend my seminar first thing on a Monday,” he said teasingly, eliciting chuckles amongst the students as the tension in the room evaporated.
Like Choso, the professor, Toru Kamo, was a descendant of the distinguished Kamo clan, an old-money family whose lineage was rumored to trace back as far as the Edo Period. A younger brother of Choso’s father, the professor was a handsome man in his late thirties, with an aristocratic face, high cheekbones, and sharp jawline. Perhaps his most distinguishing feature was an impeccably trimmed mustache, maintained, no doubt, by one of those old-fashioned barbers who still used badger-hair brushes and straight razors. He dressed in a manner that was stylish, although slightly archaic; tailored three-piece suits, complete with a pocket square and tie. When he spoke, his voice was soft and clear, and his eyes would twinkle with warmth and intelligence.
Professor Kamo taught introductory and advanced level lectures within the anthropology department, and held twice-weekly tutorials for a selected few. Everyone clamored to get into his tutorial sessions, but he capped them to no more than five lucky students, despite the university standard of up to twenty students per section. Within academic circles he was well-respected, with an extensive bibliography of award-winning books and critically praised essays. On campus, his old-fashioned elegance and approachable charm made him a friendly figure. He was a known bachelor, and his lectures were especially popular amongst the female student body.
There were occasional rumors that he was too friendly with some of the students, that he was spotted at a cafe in Daikanyama, or a bar in Ebisu, with an undergraduate on his arm. Often this was whispered with some jealousy, as students would frequently compete with each other for his affections. The Dean’s Office would always look the other way when these rumors surfaced; after all, the Kamo family was one of the university’s biggest donors.
The professor was midway through a discussion of Geertz and interpretive theories of culture when a figure slipped into the seat next to Yuji, quiet as a shadow. Yuji was so focused on the lecture that he was startled by the sudden mop of black hair to his left.
“Hey you,” Megumi whispered with a conspiratorial smile.
“You’re twenty minutes late,” Yuji hissed. Next to him, Sukuna smirked. Further down the row, Choso looked over sternly, with an exaggerated tapping motion on his Rolex. Megumi coolly flipped them off, looking for all the world like he had just rolled out of bed.
Despite his disheveled appearance, Megumi Fushiguro was striking, with a delicate face, and eyes like sea glass, framed by thick lashes, and coal-black hair. He was tall and slender, and his hands were very pale; he had long, elegant fingers like a concert pianist. He dressed in a way that, to Yuji, resembled a Romantic poet; in long, voluminous coats and silk scarves, checked trousers and oversized dress shirts, like Lord Byron, or Percy Shelley. Born into privilege, his manners were controlled and refined.
However, posh as he was, Yuji knew that Megumi had contradictory little habits, chronic tardiness, messy attire, bursts of profanity, that hinted at something more under the surface. In Yuji’s opinion, it was what set Megumi apart from all the other rich kids. They had met in high school, clashing right away, with Megumi being a huge snob, and Yuji being quite the opposite, until they were forced to pair up for a project, and discovered that they worked extremely well together. Now, he considered Megumi to be his best friend.
Sukuna leaned over, perching his elbow on Yuji’s shoulder.
“Rough night?” he asked in a suggestive voice, giving Megumi a once-over. At this, Megumi stiffened, a slight flush creeping up his neck. Yuji glanced between them, intrigued. Choso only sighed.
“Anyway,” Yuji whispered, changing the subject, “how was Bali?” Megumi turned his attention back towards Yuji.
“It was alright, although Father’s new girlfriend was insufferable,” he whispered. “Get this,” he paused dramatically. “The woman wore Gucci head-to-toe. Even down to her suitcase. Can you believe it? It was so tacky,” he said, shaking his head.
“Wow,” said Yuji; he did not particularly have an opinion about Gucci, although he knew for a fact that Megumi never liked the women that his father dated. Down the row, Choso leaned over with interest.
“Well, I think Gucci is rather grand,” he said solemnly.
“You can’t be serious, Choso,” Megumi replied incredulously. Choso was about to reply when Sukuna cut in, leaning over Yuji again.
“Never mind what the woman wore, tell us what she was like,” he whispered loudly.
“Well—” Megumi began.
“Gentlemen,” Professor Kamo said suddenly, “I’d hate to interrupt your fascinating discussion in the back row.” All eyes turned towards them. Flustered, Yuji could feel his face growing hot; next to him, Megumi cleared his throat in embarrassment, while Choso muttered a sorry, Professor. Only Sukuna seemed unaffected, leaning back in his seat with a sneer.
The rest of the lecture flew by without further incident — an overview of the syllabus, selected readings that would be covered over the course of the semester, desired learning outcomes… Yuji tried his best to focus, not daring to attempt further side conversations, although he could feel Sukuna’s foot on the floor beside him, tapping restlessly.
At 11:00 the bell rang, and the room once again filled with the hum of conversation. Yuji and his friends made their way down, past the lectern, where a group of girls had gathered around Professor Kamo. As they headed towards the door, he called out to them. Yuji was amused to see that the girls looked visibly disappointed when the professor excused himself. As Kamo turned towards them, he noticed idly that the man was rather handsome up close, his chiseled features and dark eyes bearing more than a passing resemblance to Choso.
“Uncle — I mean, Professor, sorry about earlier…” Choso began, shifting on his feet.
“Never mind that,” Kamo replied with a warm smile. “I hear you’ve signed up for my tutorials this year.”
“Yes, but they haven’t announced the sections yet,” Choso said uncertainly.
“Well, that’s because I haven’t made a decision yet,” Kamo replied lightly. “I wanted to meet you all in person first.” At this, Choso introduced each of them as they bowed politely in turn.
“Ah Fushiguro, I know your grandfather,” Kamo said pleasantly.
“Er, indeed, he speaks very highly of you, sir,” Megumi replied stiffly, uncomfortable with small talk.
“And the Itadori twins, I’ve heard a lot about you,” he said, with a knowing smile, eyes falling briefly on Sukuna’s exposed tattoos, and then to Yuji, who straightened up as he felt the professor’s gaze lingering.
“Well,” Kamo continued, glancing around the now empty lecture hall, “I’ve read some of your papers from last year. Wonderful writing, top-notch.” Yuji studied his face, wondering if he was exaggerating; he certainly did not think that his own writing was top-notch. But the professor’s eyes were bright and genuine. “It would be my pleasure to have you in my tutorials this year.”
Choso sighed audibly in relief. “That is very kind of you, Professor. I can’t say how grateful we are,” he answered for all of them, shaking his uncle’s hand warmly.
“Well, Choso, I shan’t go too easy on you just because we’re family,” Kamo replied with a wink. “Besides,” he turned to the others, “you all have such potential, I’m expecting great things from you this year,” he said, beaming with enthusiasm.
Under the professor’s radiant gaze, Yuji felt encouraged. Perhaps school would not be so bad this year. Perhaps he would actually do well. Great, even.
Signs point to yes, he thought with a smile.