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Gojo watched. He’d been watching for quite some time now, Megumi noticed it months ago.
"I think you should be careful," he told Megumi rather off-handedly this morning, surely hoping to avoid a serious conversation that way, a conversation that could have derailed rather easily.
"About what?” Megumi asked, on edge as soon as the words had left Gojo’s mouth, snappish already.
“You’re not stupid, Megumi,” Gojo said. “You know what I’m talking about.”
He tilted his head then, hooking one finger under his blindfold to pull it down. The blue of his eyes burned like gasoline.
Gojo had a habit of pulling teeth mercilessly, and so he did with Megumi.
“Best to get over it while you still can, kiddo.”
The train rattles across the tracks. Megumi blinks. His head hits the window he’s been leaning against and he sits up. The carriage is still packed, bodies cramming into the doors at every station, with hundreds of people pouring into Shibuya for Halloween even though it’s not safe anymore. There’s an itch in his fingers that urges him to tell them to get out at the next station, and go back home. It must be Yuuji’s influence rubbing off on him. He watches his own reflection in the glass that’s pronounced because the lights in their carriage haven’t been working since the last two stations. Has it changed him?
“Attention passengers in carriage seven. Due to the light outage we are kindly asking you to leave the carriage,” a robotic voice announces through the speakers across the train. Forty-two more minutes to Harajuku station. Megumi is not about to cram himself into one of the other carriages for more than five minutes.
When the other passengers begin to slowly filter out of the carriage, groaning and complaining because like Megumi they know to expect the worst. Unlike Megumi, they don’t possess the ability to slip into the shadows and hide there until everyone else is gone, with no one left to berate him for not following the announcement’s instructions.
After the quiet shush of the automatically gliding door announces the departure of the last people in the carriage, Megumi slips out of the shadows again. It’s been something he has been practising for months. It’s still hard, taking a lot of cursed energy at the moment, meaning outside of his domain he can’t really sustain it for any more than two minutes. Gojo would probably tell him it’s stupid that he spent cursed energy on this right now, when they’re about to ride into Shibuya. Technically they’re only supposed to be on standby. And probably Gojo’s got it covered. Even though the whole thing is odd and reeks of something sinister. But they’ve had a lot of sinister lately.
He watches as outer Tokyo passes them by. Nobara, Yuuji and he were planning to go to the movies tonight, to see some brainless horror movie that Yuuji had picked out weeks in advance. They’re not even stationed together. Megumi will have to join Nanami and that disciple of his Ino Takuma, while they’re making Nobara and Maki go with their ghastly relative and Yuuji they put together with Mei Mei and her little brother, who in all seriousness has no business being here tonight. He’s been antsy ever since Ijichi revealed their postings to them. In all honesty, he would have preferred for him to be paired with Mei Mei if that meant they would have put Yuuji with Nanami, someone who would take care of him and ensure that Yuuji would be safe. Someone who takes his role as the adult present seriously, a rarity when compared to many other sorcerers. At least Nobara and Maki are together. There's a constant, and primal urge in him to not be separated from Yuuji—so that he can make sure that he doesn't do anything stupidly noble, self-sacrificial that will get him killed again. It’s not optimal. It's been impacting his form on their last missions. Not a lot. Just enough for Gojo to notice and make a whole thing of it now that he decided to be a present guardian again or whatever, someone who gets to push Megumi to his limits.
The quiet shush of the door again, and Megumi feels his cursed energy before he sees him. His footsteps echo through the carriage until they come to a stop at the row where Megumi has hidden away from the world, the presence of the others too much for right now. He fought with Gojo before he had left and they had to get on the train. It always leaves Megumi with a burning sensation in his fingers, behind his eyes, like Gojo poured bleach all over him with his cauterizing words.
“Here you are, Fushiguro,” Yuuji says. “I was beginning to think you might’ve gotten off.”
A lame attempt at a joke which falls even flatter because Megumi can’t bring himself to laugh at it. Which means that a cloud of awkwardness settles across them, with Yuuji scratching the back of his head, eyes downcast.
“Sorry, er, that was bad…” he mutters, before he points to the empty seat next to Megumi. “Can I sit?”
In lieu of an answer Megumi scoots closer to the window even though that’s not necessary because there’s two seats in this row. Yuuji takes the invitation and sits down next to him. Given the past weeks, Megumi is a little surprised that Yuuji came to find him in the first place.
“Bummer about the movie,” Yuuji says then, and it doesn't help to clear the cloud of awkwardness hanging over their heads. It feels woefully inappropriate to talk about the movie right now while headquarters dispatched twelve sorcerers to Shibuya. It speaks of something more serious. Something sinister is coming. Megumi hates it. He wants to visit Tsumiki and tell her about it all. He wants her to answer most of all.
He gives Yuuji a look, asking do you really want to talk about this right now? and because Yuuji is Yuuji, ever so perceptive, he can read Megumi better than most people he's known for far longer. Yuuji shrugs.
“You've been avoiding me,” Megumi says carefully. It's easy to make friends with Yuuji, he's earnest and inviting, and people gravitate towards him for it, but he's guarded. After his first death, Megumi had to pry his jaw open to fish for the honest words himself and still, he didn't get them. Yuuji is a little bit like a stray dog in that sense—moving too quickly, speaking too loudly might scare him away. He still hasn’t told him what happened during the time he was away, during the time Megumi thought he was honestly, actually dead.
The effect is immediate because Yuuji's face falls like Megumi caught him burrowing in some trash cans he was forbidden from accessing.
“It's not that—”
Megumi regards him with a blank stare that effectively silences him again. The silence continues as Yuuji shuffles around in his seat, once more raking his hand through his hair.
“Itadori,” Megumi says, trying to sound as gentle as he can muster. “Unfortunately for you, I'm not stupid.”
Almost desperately he searches for Yuuji's eyes who seems keen on investigating the train floor beneath their feet. Stubbornly, he refuses to meet Megumi's gaze. Over the speakers, the robotic voice announces the next station coming up in a few moments.
“I know that,” he huffs. Yuuji’s knee knocks into Megumi’s when he angles his body towards him until his right shoulder is digging into the back of the seat. The train comes to a halt at their next station but the doors of their carriage don’t open.
They watch each other for a moment. Thirty-five more minutes until Harajuku station. Yuuji will get off at Shinjuku station; one stop before Megumi. Twenty-one minutes until they’re separated again. Megumi doesn’t like to be separated from Yuuji much these days. It’s fine with him if he has to take Gojo’s endless needling about it.
“So what’s wrong?”
In hindsight, he doesn’t know what propels him to do so but he reaches out to take Yuuji’s hand and guide in between them, and then he holds on. His hand is very warm which is oddly fitting for him. It’s just so… Yuji somehow. Yuuji, who snaps his head up at the touch and gives Megumi the chance to observe him more closely. His pupils look blown, there are violet shadows under his eyes that kind of clash with his mop of pink hair. Almost imperceptibly Yuuji tightens his fingers around Megumi’s cold hands. They sit in silence for a few minutes. Because Megumi knows not even he can push him endlessly on it.
“I’ve been worried, that’s all,” Yuuji admits, after they have passed another station.
How couldn’t he be? He must be constantly worried. Maybe it was stupid of him to ask. He probably shouldn’t have assumed that it had anything to do with him. The execution was still hanging over Yuuji’s head—it would always hang over his head until the day it arrived (which Megumi wouldn’t let happen) or until Gojo got it out of the way.
Megumi forces something akin to hopefulness into his voice, and says, even though he falls short on several degrees, “Gojo will take care of everything. You know he won’t let the Higher Ups just do that. As long as Gojo is around nothing will happen to you, Itadori.”
For all his faults, and Gojo harbored a bottomless repertoire of them, that’s something Megumi trusts him with. That he would make sure that the Higher Ups wouldn’t touch a single hair on Yuuji’s body. It's something Megumi has been telling himself for quite some time now even though Gojo hasn’t exactly specified that he would take care of things. In fact his advice to Megumi to ‘get over it’ indicates the bone-crushing opposite. Still, he can't tell Yuuji that.
Yuuji’s face twists in anguish. Only then it clicks for Megumi.
“He’s talking to you right now, isn’t he? Sukuna?”
In a split second Yuuji pulls his hand back to wring it together with his other one in his lap. His silence is basically an admission in itself.
“Tell him I told him to fuck off, and go die while he’s at it,” Megumi continues. Something hot coils in his stomach at the thought of the wretched thing that has found a house in Yuuji. He hates Sukuna more than anything he has ever hated in his whole life. If he were able, he would reach into Yuuji’s body, in between his ribs and he would separate Sukuna clean from him and crush him between his hands until nothing of him remained, and he could never hurt anyone ever again.
“You shouldn’t make him angry.” Yuuji looks a little panicked, now that Megumi considers it. His eyes are a little wild, like he’s an animal trapped in a snare that’s about to gnaw its leg off in order to escape. He hates the power Sukuna holds over Yuuji even when it’s Yuuji who remains in control of everything, of his body that he has to share with him. It’s not fair that Sukuna gets to exist at all.
Megumi leans in.
“Why? Did he say something to you? You know, I will actually—”
Yuuji starts talking at the same time, this time with enough force in his voice to make Megumi snap his mouth shut.
“—not about me, Fushiguro!
They’re very close suddenly. Megumi blinks. It’s easy to get lost in Yuuji’s eyes. They’re big and earnest. Baby-deer brown. He has the prettiest eyes Megumi has seen someone possess. It’s not exactly the best moment to think about it, but Megumi finds it hard to believe that Yuuji’s never had a girlfriend before. After all, he must have been very popular in high school. Popular enough for girls from school to track him down in Tokyo, he notes. Tsumiki would probably laugh at him if she could see him now, debating Yuuji’s not-girlfriends in a moment like this. She always used to be a horrible tease. Gojo used to love it.
“You’re not listening to me,” Yuuji says, quieter this time.
“Then talk to me.” Megumi taps Yuuji’s forehead and watches as the skin of his forehead creases under his finger. In reality, he wants to tilt Yuji’s face up with his fingers around his chin. It’s too intimate to bear though. “Coherently.”
Just as Yuuji is about to open his mouth, the speakers crackle alive again. The light in their carriage is still out, and the only source of light that illuminates Yuuji’s face are the billboards from the outside world. It paints his face violet and blue. The colors dance across his cheeks like little flames, only perforated by Megumi’s shadow on him.
“We will arrive at Kichijōji Station shortly,” the robotic voice announces. This is the station where Nobara and Maki will get off to get onto the Inokashira line. He hasn’t even said goodbye to them. If they were in any other situation Nobara would probably say it was typical of him—to let Yuuji hog all his attention. She’s truly a horrible girl. It’s fine. He’ll see them later.
Yuuji breathes in, and looks down on his lap. The train comes to a halt again. The wheels on the track screech like an owl. Fourteen minutes until Shinjuku station. The words unsaid between them are heavy, and they’re suffocating Megumi as the world passes them by in a rapid motion blur.
“I’m not worried about me,” Yuuji finally whispers. When he looks up again his eyes are shiny. “Fushiguro, I couldn't bear it if something happened to you.”
The ‘because of me’ part doesn’t need to be said. It’s clear from every word Yuuji holds on his face but doesn’t dare let pass his lips. And even more so, it’s unfair. It’s unfair that Yuuji gets to die and then he gets to punish Megumi for it by staying away even when he has returned. It’s unfair that it will happen to them again if their wretched system is going to have its way.
“So why do you expect me to bear it?”
Yuuji makes a horrible sound from the back of his throat. And Megumi, because he’s not good like Yuuji or Tsumiki, because he bears resemblance to a man who once upon a time inserted himself into their rundown home and has been growing roots ever since, twists the knife deeper, and says, “Do you think you don’t mean as much to me as I mean to you?”
It’s desperate. It’s a plea. Ultimately, there’s nothing more to be said than: “You know, don’t you?”
Megumi breathes out. He doesn’t have to specify for it to be an admission—for Yuuji to know. Nothing more than that whisper hangs between them. It penetrates their entire relationship, seeps into the cracks of its foundation. And Yuuji just stares at him. Megumi is a stray dog preparing for the blow that is about to come. But because Yuuji is Yuuji, and he always knows what to say to make it hurt less, he puts him down gently.
“Yeah,” Yuuji answers, equally quiet, very softly. “Yeah, I know.”
An odd sense of calmness settles over Megumi. That’s what he suspected anyway. It’s always different of course—suspecting, from knowing. He feels like he’s very far away from his body. Whatever Yuuji is going to say, it won’t change a thing, maybe that’s the most fucked part of it. Megumi closes his eyes. Unfortunately, he has never been particularly gifted with timing. But this might just be the most abysmal timing he could’ve picked. When you put an animal down, you give it a syringe to make it unconscious—so that it won’t feel the rest of it, when the vital organs stop functioning. Megumi feels like that right now. Maybe his lungs have already shut down.
The robotic voice again, “We will arrive at Shinjuku station shortly. For other lines, please exit here.”
They both know what this means. Whatever storm rages in Yuuji’s eyes, Megumi can’t decipher it.
“It will hurt you, Fushiguro,” Yuuji whispers when Megumi almost wasn’t expecting him to say something anymore. “I don’t know what it is but it will hurt you, and I will not let you get hurt. Not any more.”
Slowly, as if he still might decide differently, he pulls up their intertwined hands, and presses them to Megumi’s chest. To see if the syringe has taken effect, Megumi thinks—dazed. Then, he drops Megumi’s hands as if burned by the uneven heartbeat in his chest, and gets up.
The train rolls into Shinjuku station, preparing to take Yuuji away who moves to the door. Naturally, like the earth orbits the sun, Megumi follows. To argue, to plead, he’s not even sure himself. Their paths for tonight are written for them. Yuuji is going to join forces with Mei Mei, Megumi will go with Nanami. Lost in his thoughts, the train slowing down comes more unexpectedly than it should, propelling Megumi forward, who stumbles over his own two feet, which is rather undignified for a jujutsu sorcerer and he—doesn’t hit the floor. Instead he collides with Yuuji’s chest, who, to keep him upright, wraps his hands around Megumi’s biceps. Usually, Megumi is just the tiniest bit taller than Yuuji, but now he finds himself looking up. The final meters are ahead of the train now.
“What if I told you you’re still hurting me by doing this?”
It’s a cruel thing to say, Megumi is aware of that, and yet it doesn’t stop him. Pain is etched into the surface of Yuuji’s face. The downturn of his mouth, the anguish in his eyes and dried salt on his cheeks.
“Then I will bear it,” Yuuji says with all the finality of someone who must have thought hard and thoroughly over this. “Even if you won’t forgive me for it.”
Gently, Yuuji hoists Megumi back into an upright position. If they were in any one of the dozen romantic movies Yuuji had made Nobara and him watch by now, they would kiss right now. But they’re not. So Yuuji unwraps his hands from Megumi, who feels cold all over all of a sudden, like Yuuji took all of the warmth with him, and presses the door opener.
“Be careful out there, Fushiguro.”
Don’t do anything stupid, his eyes seem to plead.
“You too,” Megumi whispers.
Yuuji gets off at Shinjuku station. The doors close with a quiet shush. Standing at the train platform, Yuuji turns around to face him as he blurs together with the rest of the world as the train hurtles on.
Later that night, laying on the rooftop of a city laid to waste, crying, heaving, and vomiting from the smell of burned everything, Megumi wonders if he’s doomed them all that night.
Yet all he can think, over the ringing in his head, and Shoko’s voice in his ear, is what happened where is Yuuji what happened where is everyone why am I still alive where is Yuuji what happened I shouldn't be al—
One excruciating week later, in the very same city they laid to waste together, Yuuji sits close to him, shoulder pressed against shoulder. Both of them stare ahead. Megumi has found him and Yuuji failed to slip away. Blood is on both of their hands they will never be able to wash off.
“Do you still mean it?” Yuuji asks quietly.
The weaver in his voice betrays him. It reveals to Megumi the belief that he shouldn’t mean it anymore. Not after everything that has happened. Megumi laughs mirthlessly.
“How could I not?” He answers. He’s too tired to hide it again because what point would it serve? And Yuuji would see right through him anyway. And he does, mean it. In fact, he’s more sure of it than anything he’s ever been. It’s intimidating to be overcome by such blinding clarity.
“How could you?”
“It’s very easy,” Megumi says. When he turns his head, Yuuji is already there, meeting his gaze. Baby-deer brown. Liquid gold when the sunlight hits them right. “You make it very easy.”
The sound that claws itself out of Yuuji, and the tears that spill from his eyes, makes it sound like it’s the worst thing he’s ever heard.