Chapter Text
He never really cared. His pajamas were growing too small for him, month after month, and the little plant near his window was no longer so little. His red shoes were still the same after two and a half years — he never bothered to change them — and the broken lamp, which he swore to throw out sooner or later, still sat in the same corner on his desk. The tires of his bike were still a little flat; his hands still froze without gloves. But Itadori Yuji never really cared about it all.
He liked to live in the present — and to be present. Fully and totally engaged in every moment. Each instant a continuous movement, and every minute an unstoppable rhythm, akin to an unyielding flow. Inevitably absorbed in the rush of his own existence, he became oblivious to the minor details around him, including the little gestures he instinctively carried out for others.
So, it came as no surprise that the small things he did for those around him went unnoticed by his own two eyes. It was out of habit — simply put, it came naturally to him. He just smiled at the bus driver every time he got up. He just filled Nobara's empty glass while waiting for their food. He just assisted the old lady crossing the street with her bags outside the market. It wasn't something to dwell on in advance: it was instinctive.
Yuji never really cared about such trivial matters, hardly sparing them a thought. He navigated through life effortlessly, simply kept moving forward — no time for contemplation, no room for hesitation. And it was so easy. The rhythm of his days was relentless — university classes, karaoke, study sessions, parties, gym workouts, exams, part-time work, dinners out, basketball, cinema. Still, it wasn't enough — it was never too much for him. Yuji not only embraced this pace but craved more — more time, more experiences, more life. Just yesterday, he was an 18-year-old college graduate, poised to embark on a new chapter. Time slipped through his fingers - no room to keep track of it — and now he was 20, living in his own little dorm room, studying to become the best version of himself, striving to get the fullest out of each day.
Yuji never really cared. And it was so simple, yet so difficult, sometimes. He knew that too well. Occasionally, while studying in the library on a typical thursday afternoon, it hit him out of nowhere — the realization that he was still conscious of his mind, confined within the walls of his head. Actually, he was just trying to silence those thoughts, distracting himself from the mess going on inside his brain. No matter how much he filled every moment of his days with something — anything —, in the end, it wouldn't have been enough. Whenever that strange sensation intensified, the pit of his stomach closed, and all his insides writhed. He despised it. Feeling so helpless. So out of control. So vulnerable. So pathetic. Yuji always felt like crying, in moments like that.
But he was used to it by now: he just shrugged his shoulders, slowed his breath, rereading the same sentence four, five, six times — until his eyes were no longer wet. Then, he would grab his favorite pen — the one with a little smiley face attached to it that Nanami gave him for his nineteenth birthday — and start jotting down more words, completing his assignment. No lingering sadness as he left the building with a big smile on his face, ready to hop into Todo's car, which had just arrived to take him to practice. It felt good, and he'd forget these messy moments until a new one arose — no need to worry about it in the meantime.
Yuji never really cared, so he just kept going. It didn't bother him if, at times, he had to slip out to the bathroom to catch his breath during a lecture, only to later ask around for notes. He'd share a laugh with others about how he often got lost in his thoughts — after all, he'd always been a bit clumsy and perhaps even inattentive. Everyone who knew him was well aware of this by now — and luckily, for the majority of them, passing their notes to him was never a big issue. It didn't really matter if his heart beat incessantly at night, ready to jump off his chest, preventing him from falling asleep — on the other hand, he was used to sleeping only a few hours: he no longer even needed an alarm clock. It didn't really matter if he had to turn up the volume of the playlist while showering, trying to distract himself from whatever thoughts might be lingering. He didn't care — or, at least, he liked to pretend so.
But, in fact, Itadori Yuji cared. In those specific moments of solitude and loneliness, he cared about every breath he took. He cared about every small gesture of his body. He cared about every word and every thought. It was just too much to handle, and he didn't even know where to start processing it — to be fair, he didn't even want to know where it all started, neither. It was for the best to just ignore everything. Little by little, it became something normal — almost natural.
So, the worse things got, the more he simply tried to distract himself. To be together with others. To do different things. Not to think about it. And everything seemed so easy when he did so. Everything was easy when he played basketball. Everything was easy when he accompanied Nobara shopping. Everything was easy when he and Junpei went to the usual cinema. Everything was easy if he just forgot to think. The problem was, Yuji couldn't possibly always be distracted. It was a fact. He simply had to deal with it — that's what he kept repeating to himself, as if it wasn't really a big deal deep down.
Itadori Yuji didn't mind keeping it all to himself — and that truly didn't matter. He aspired to be a person others looked up to, capable of bearing the pain of those around him. A reliable figure to call in times of need, adept at managing both his own problems and those of others. He wanted to shoulder them all, to carry the burdens alongside everyone. He simply desired to be a pillar of strength, just as his grandfather would have wanted. And he wouldn't allow anyone to perceive him differently — not even Nanami, who was the closest person to a father he had ever encountered, despite being his professor and advisor in the most crucial moments.
So, when Fushiguro Megumi sat next to him on an empty bench on a rainy day in May, Yuji wished he could disappear.
His usual 5 o'clock bus slipped away as he got caught up in the search for his senior Inumaki's missing panda-shaped keychain — a misadventure that unfolded into a 20-minute quest. The keychain was eventually found, safely tucked away in Inumaki's backpack, where he had simply stowed it — forgetting about it — to shield it from the rain.
As Yuji sat down on the bench at the bus stop seeking refuge from the rain, he realized he had about ten minutes until the next bus arrived. With no one else around, he made the mistake of closing his eyes and leaning back against the bench, thinking that surrendering to the familiar weight would be harmless for those few moments. He couldn't have been more wrong.
Three minutes into his emotional breakdown, regret seeped in, and he yearned to merge with the raindrops, disappearing into the wet ground. Because, when he opened his teary eyes, an intruder appeared by his side out of nowhere, encroaching on his space and his moment. No one else was around, yet that dude had suddenly appeared and chosen to sit right there, within the thin line that separated the outside world from the tumult that swirled and filled Yuji's mind. It was all there — everything resided within that small frontier, now breached and violated. They had never met before, but Yuji realized he was breaking down — for the very first time — in the presence of someone else.
And suddenly, he cared about the tears still in his eyes, the trembling of his fingers, and the little space between his leg and the other's. In that exact moment, he wished he couldn't be seen or acknowledged — neither by that guy nor by anyone else.
The stranger didn't spare him a glance, oblivious to Yuji's tears — or, at least, that was all Yuji could hope for. In a matter of seconds, he tried to make himself inconspicuous: slowing his breath to a near silence, and halting the rhythmic tap of his foot. Yuji sat in stillness; a loud silence around them. It felt odd. Uncomfortable. Vulnerable.
Just as he thought he could allow himself a moment to shed a few tears — just a few, since his bus would arrive in ten minutes and no one else was around — he was caught off guard. No mask on his face, and no time to put one on. No defense, and no strength. Just him, his emotions, his tears, and a stranger. It should have been his moment, but even that was taken away. Yuji's dislike for the stranger intensified.
The boy sat there unperturbed, indifferent to the havoc he'd wrecked. Yuji's brief peace of mind shattered; his moment disrupted, and his fragile mental equilibrium disturbed. He despised that boy, with every ounce of his heart and every fiber of his being. His gaze shifted to the stranger whose face renained partially hidden, as the guy was seated slightly ahead of him, revealing only his back.
He appeared monotonous — flat — at first glance, in his dark jacket and black pants. No standout feature to fixate upon, and no intriguing detail captivating enough to hold attention on his figure — almost like a shadow among the many that blended into the ground, where no one noticed their presence. A mere extra. His black hair was slightly damp, perhaps from dashing around with only his now-wet backpack over his head. Fatigue slouched his shoulders, and the visible part of his face looked strained, as if he were clenching his teeth tightly to stifle a scream. That stranger seemed worn out by mere existence.
For some inexplicable reason, the more he gazed at him, the more Yuji felt suffocated; his chest tightening around his lungs. Despite his efforts to regain control of his body, he realized that an unsettling anxiety was devouring him from within. Luckily enough, it seemed like he received a stroke of luck just when he needed it most.
Yuji quickly turned his gaze toward the bus that had just pulled up. He stood up, still a bit shaken, revealing his unsteady knees. It was unprecedented — feeling so disoriented after crying or so fragile after an emotional breakdown. He didn't even notice that the other remained seated on the bench, not following him onto the vehicle. His instinct screamed at him to escape, to run away from that guy.
Yuji moved with haste, almost desperate to board and get away — as far as possible. He managed to steady his breathing in a few moments; the more he distanced himself from him, the more he felt like he could breathe again. In some absurd way, he even pulled off a wide and natural smile at the bus driver — his eyes, still partially teary, went unnoticed. And as if nothing had ever happened, Yuji continued along the narrow aisle of the bus, spotting an empty seat shortly after.
As he sat with his yellow backpack on his lap, he found himself inexplicably unable to resist. Try as he might, he couldn't control it. His gaze wandered beyond his control, pulled irresistibly past the bus's window. And there, filling his field of vision, was the figure of the boy on the bench. Yuji felt his heart leap into his throat. It was as if the world had come to a standstill. Their eyes met, and Yuji failed to get a clear view of him — tears still blurring his vision. Yet, the boy's face appeared so pale, his eyes so sharp, and his piercing gaze so cold. Yuji froze, suddenly feeling so small. So foolish. So exposed. He felt utterly nacked.
It was the first time someone had witnessed his raw vulnerability, and a piece of himself crumbled. His mind went blank, breath hitched. The stranger's gaze remained fixed on his, as if trying to bore through him. There was nothing comforting in that look. Yuji felt a shiver running down his spine. He recognized the signals: as his heart raced in his chest, time seemed to stretch, leaving him with that unsettling feeling of being caught between the past and the present. His breath trembled, and his head wavered. A tingling sensation — all too familiar — traveled up his arms, while an unusually heavy weight began pressing on his chest, squeezing it.
And it was always strange. Those sudden panic attacks managed to unsettle his entire being, yet there was something different, this time. Something stranger and more disturbing. He had never felt such terror. Being visible and completely exposed in front of someone else's eyes made him nauseous. Itadori Yuji didn't care about many things, but he found himself concerned about that particular guy all of a sudden. He didn't want that boy to perceive him as someone fake — or even worse, as someone weak. Actually, he didn't want that guy to acknowledge his presence ever again. He didn't want to see him anymore. And, as if the bus heard his silent plea, it started moving.
Itadori Yuji forgot all about that incident.
Four months later, it was late September, and he found himself once again on the same bench. Lost in the latest single from one of his favorite bands, he paid little to no attention to the people around him at the bus stop. Wearing a thick hoodie under a light jacket with red headphones on his head, Yuji reveled in the autumn atmosphere. Just half an hour after his last class of the day, he was eager to head back to the dorm, grab a quick bite, and join Todo for a gym session. It had been a long week without training due to rescheduled basketball practices and remedial courses — those last ones being obligations enforced by none other than Nanami. Not following through with his commitment meant facing certain failure in his literature course, even with heartfelt prayers as his only defense.
It was a cloudy friday and Nobara had decided to throw a small party that night, celebrating her hard-earned victory during her college journey — this victory being passing an exam that she claimed was one of the most challenging and complicated ever devised by mankind. It took her seven months and four attempts to pass — still, «A win is a win», she has said proudly. Yuji found himself coerced into participating — it was a decision he had no say in, so he resigned himself to his fate; a familiar feeling when dealing with Nobara. After all, Kugisaki Nobara was — and always had been — a force of nature; trying to resist her was both futile and unwise.
He first met her during their shared teenage years, an unexpected collision occurring in the bustling cafeteria of their high school. Yuji, in a clumsy moment, managed to spill curry all over her uniform. Despite his sincere apologies and triple reimbursem*nt for the stained clothing, she still held it against him. It was then that Nobara began throwing threats his way, asserting herself to make him pay for the colossal blunder he'd committed.
Despite the rocky start, Yuji found he didn't need a laundry list of shared interests to click with her. Strangely enough, he always felt at ease whenever she was around. They soon became a functional team, despite their lively and quite different personalities. With time, Yuji became adept at reading Nobara's subtle cues. She seldom voiced her thoughts — too much pride for that. Yet, a simple gesture, like handing you a can of Cola, spoke volumes —, a silent reassurance that she had your back. Yuji really appreciated these actions, but best not to mention it, unless someone wanted a fist in their face accompanied by a gruff «Shut up, moron! I don't give a damn about you, got it?»
Six years later, not much had changed in their friendship. While Nobara could be challenging with her presumptuous and sometimes rude demeanor, she was one of the few people Yuji trusted implicitly. Despite everything, having someone like her around was comforting — even if it meant surrendering control whenever she included him in her plans. So, he smiled when her message popped up on his phone screen.
from Nobara (๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ✧˖°:
Don't forget. Tonight. 9PM. And bring me a present, I deserve it. Bye.
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Yuji wondered if the pink bag he chose under Maki's advice the previous week would be appreciated. The search for the perfect gift had lasted almost two hours and involved six different shops. Yuji had started to think that enduring two more months of remedial courses might have been preferable to continuing that gift-hunting torture for just another ten minutes — and he really detested his remedial courses.
He shrugged, putting his cellphone back in his pocket, not forgetting to send her a sticker of a soldier obeying orders, standing straight with his hand raised to his forehead. Between his gym session and the usual banter with Todo, evening crept up on him sooner than expected; the clock striking 8 before he knew it. Fully aware of his significant delay, Yuji wasted no time upon reaching the dorm. He swiftly showered, tidied his lightly tousled hair, slipped into his usual red shoes, and rushed out of the house.
The time on his phone read 9:08 PM, but he didn't care much, resigning himself to the scolding Nobara would surely give him in less than twenty minutes. He clutched the bag with the gift for his friend to his chest and ran breathlessly to the metro station closest to the dorm. «Hey Nob, I'm on my way, I swear! Give me ten minutes, and I'll catch up! Get me a beer, thanks! You're the best!» Yuji sent the voice message and hastily stuffed the phone back into his pocket.
About fifteen minutes later, he finally arrived and immediately spotted the chosen venue: a fluorescent pink sign marked the entrance glass, creating a vibrant atmosphere. Violet and blue lights bathed the space in a subdued, almost mystical ambiance, while sleek white tables were scattered throughout. The tunes, not too loud, drifted from the speakers, as a hand adorned with sparkling bracelets shot up. Yuji spotted Nobara right away — she was now giving him the 'finally' look. «About time, idiot! Is it an art form for you to never arrive on time? Why do you always have to be fashionably late?»
Her high-pitched voice drilled into his ears as her stylish figure rose from the table to meet him halfway. Wrapped in a sleek pink dress and rocking matching high-heeled boots, she exuded effortless style. Yuji couldn't help but burst into an awkward laugh, absentmindedly scratching the back of his neck. «I know, I know, my bad! But hey, I got you a gift: ta-daa!» Her eyes immediately lit up at the sight of the gift he clutched to his chest, and a mischievous smile briefly danced across her face as she eagerly grabbed it. Fuchsia-painted nails sparkled.
«At least you remembered. I'll forgive you, but only if your gift passes my test, got it? Come on, everyone is already here — I've already ordered your stupid beer, so you can thank me later.» Yuji grinned happily, appreciative, stealing a glance at the others already cozied up on the black couches around the table. He recognized Maki and Yuta deep in conversation, and even Fumi and Saori were seated. Miwa was there too; he hadn't seen her in months due to different study paths and friend circles. A couple of unfamiliar faces, likely from Nobara's course, were having a chat and appeared ready to ditch the table, heading towards the cozy dance hall tucked away at the back of the spacious venue.
Nobara turned back to him; her chestnut bob swayed with the movement of her head, but her eyes didn't linger on Yuji's. They moved past him, fixing onto someone behind his shoulder, to whom she directed her attention a moment later. «Finally, the second latecomer arrives. You managed to be outpaced by Itadori, which is an achievement in itself. Seriously, I hate you guys so much.» Her irritated voice now accused another recent arrival, and Yuji promptly glanced over to figure out who had just joined them. His eyes widened slightly as his heart skipped a beat.
A tall guy dressed in black was standing right there, now shooting her an annoyed look. His blue eyes seemed frozen, almost lifeless, and his face displayed irritation — a pale complexion, sharp features, and a cold gaze now locked onto him. Yuji recognized him instantly, the memories flooding back like a sudden, nauseating flashback. It all rushed back in an instant, making him feel almost nauseous. The bus station, the rain, the stranger with wet black hair. He recalled the silence, the heaviness in the air. Yuji felt a lump in his throat, unable to focus on Nobara's words anymore. Breathless and sick, just like that one day. He felt the urge to cry, all of a sudden — all over again.
Once more, his thoughts went momentarily blank, almost like a blackout. And, amidst the confusion of the moment, he quickly recollected something else. A memory flooded back into his mind, seemingly released from a place it had been concealed until that very moment — a conversation he had some time ago in an empty classroom.
«An epiphany.»
Nanami had adjusted his glasses on his straight nose as Yuji had frowned. «An epiphany?» He had questioned, leaning over the desk that separated them. Nanami had sighed, giving him a pointed look. Although the Monday morning class had just ended, Yuji enjoyed lingering with his professor before the lunch break — strangely enough, that ritual had persisted since Itadori's first year.
Nanami, noticing the boy's lackluster academic performance, once detained him after class to discuss the reasons behind his initial exam scores. Yuji began by mentioning how his extracurricular activities took up his time but ended up sharing his fascination with paranormal activities and ghosts. Even now, Nanami couldn't quite grasp how the boy effortlessly managed to connect such diverse topics in just a few minutes.
Over the past year, Itadori Yuji proved to be an incredibly curious individual — his eyes would light up like a child's when delving into his passions. Yet, beneath that enthusiasm, his discipline and eagerness to improve revealed a surprising level of maturity. Nanami only had a general understanding of the context in which that boy had grown up. He knew Yuji had lost his parents in first grade and had been raised by his grandfather, who also passed away a few years later due to a heart disease. After that, it was a young neighbor named Choso who took care of him and looked after his well-being. Perhaps the absence of an adult figure for comparison had instilled in him a need for contact with someone older and more experienced.
However, as Yuji opened up more, seeking advice or simple validation, Nanami began to outline his personality and essence more precisely. The man soon realized that he admired Yuji's ability to maintain a smile, even in the face of the challenges of his past, as well as the sincerity with which he spoke about those in his life. Despite their contrasting personalities — Yuji being too lively for Nanami's calm demeanor —, the professor still sought to instill a sense of security in Yuji, acting as a dependable adult figure he could rely on. Generally reserved with younger individuals — a trait that often instilled fear in his students due to his seriousness —, Nanami realized that Yuji seemed unaffected by that. The man didn't particularly mind, so Yuji kept coming, and Nanami kept lending an ear.
He had nodded subtly, shifting his gaze back to his computer. «Yes, an epiphany. James Joyce explored this concept in one of his works: "Dubliners". Have you ever had a profound realization or moment of illumination during a routine activity, Itadori?» Nanami's voice maintained its calm steadiness, captivating Yuji's attention. He had leaned on his folded arms, his gaze lowered in contemplation. «Like a déjà vu, or something? I mean, perhaps. I'm not too sure, though.» A subtle smile had crossed Nanami's face as he had shot Yuji another glance, the brief interlude of warmth contrasting with the rhythmic keystrokes on the PC keyboard as he resumed.
«Mh, not really. An epiphany is similar to a déjà vu, but it's also very different.» «How so?» Yuji had inquired once more; Nanami's focus steadfast on the screen. «An epiphany — especially in the context of James Joyce's work — is this sudden burst of insight or revelation. It's a moment marked by a profound understanding or heightened awareness that catalyzes a significant shift in how one perceives or understands a situation.» Yuji found the words slipping past him, a common occurrence when Nanami delved into intricate explanations. However, the professor never confined himself to a mere definition — Yuji expected that. Allowing Nanami the space, Yuji had remained silent — anticipation reflected in his gaze, waiting for the man to unravel the complexity. And so, Nanami had continued.
«Both epiphanies and déjà vu involve a heightened sense of recognition or realization. In both cases, there's a connection to a moment of insight or familiarity. Despite these commonalities, the nature and purpose of these phenomena differ. An epiphany is more about gaining insight or understanding, while déjà vu is about the sensation of reliving a moment.» With that, Yuji had nodded, the lightbulb flickering on. «Okay, I guess it makes a little more sense now. But why did you bring this up? I mean, what does all of this have to do with the question I asked you?» The man had flashed a slight grin. «You wanted to know why I chose to become a professor of literature, didn't you?»
The boy had nodded, and Nanami had paused from typing on his computer. «I had an epiphany, back when I was around your age. One day, I decided to switch up my usual route home, took a longer path, and ended up passing by a library. On a whim, I walked in and started reading some poetry books. It was all new to me, yet oddly familiar. Then it hit me. Right there, I realized I wanted to dive deeper. I wanted to explore the literary world behind those verses and become someone who could share the awe I felt reading those lines with others.» Yuji had looked surprised by Nanami's revelation. He had always perceived Nanami as a precise and organized individual — someone who meticulously plans every aspect of their life. The idea that a person like him had chosen his career on a spontaneous impulse left Yuji somewhat unsettled. Just a change of path. A few poetry books. An epiphany.
«Just like that?» He remembered asking the man, still in disbelief. «Just like that», Nanami had smiled slightly. «You can even call it the famous butterfly effect. How small changes can lead to drastically different outcomes over time; it's really interesting. Things happen, and you never realize until you look back.» At the time, Yuji couldn't help but wonder what might have unfolded if, instead, Nanami had opted for his usual route that day. Most likely, their paths would never have intersected — and just the thought managed to evoke a peculiar sense of sadness in Yuji.
Nanami was his professor, yes, but he was also a man Yuji deeply respected and aspired to emulate. His approval held weight, and his opinion mattered immensely. Yuji would have felt adrift if, on that day, Nanami hadn't fallen in love with literature. Yuji had found himself pondering whether a seemingly inconsequential daily act could genuinely wield a substantial impact on someone's life — and the lives entwined with it.
Was it truly that simple? Could an entire life be altered with just an unexpected, minor action? Even if this action was something unexpected? Something that wasn't supposed to happen? A shiver ran down Yuji's spine.
He was still standing, motionless, facing the boy who had just entered the venue. Was it all a mere coincidence? Could it truly be that simple to disrupt everything in such a manner? He realized that, perhaps, he now could understand what his professor had meant that day. He realized how incredibly easy it was for something so casual to have such a big impact, just like a domino effect. All it took, in his case, was a missed bus. The realization struck him immediately.
«Things happen, and you never realize until you look back.»
Yuji felt utterly sick — so sick. He was convinced he had forgotten it. He was sure that the events of that May day had been wiped from his memory. Yet, it took very little to resurface it all. He could almost hear once again the deafening sound of the rain and feel his trembling fingers as he struggled to regain control, trying everything to steady his breath. The gaze of those eyes still haunted him in recollection. His insides churned once more, and his head threatened to spin ominously. How had he managed to forget? How could he even remotely think of forgetting about him? Yet, on the other hand, he thought he'd never encounter him again.
That guy had seemed like someone peripheral — someone he shouldn't have even registered amidst the chaos of his life. Someone he believed he'd never cross paths with again. So why, out of everyone in that place, was it him standing right in front? Why him, out of all the possible individuals who could be there instead? It was frustrating — almost terrifying. The thought that he could be so easily shaken by a mere stranger witnessing one of his many breakdowns was unsettling. He felt foolish — all over again. He couldn't comprehend himself at all. He yearned to vanish entirely, much like his desire on that fateful day. But, this time, no bus would roll in to offer salvation. Yuji felt like he was the butt of a cruel joke. It wasn't amusing in the slightest, though.
«Itadori?» Nobara's voice called out, and he jolted, managing to immediately avert his gaze from the other. The girl beside him still scrutinized him with a skeptical expression. «Are you there? Damn, you look like a corpse with how pale you are.» She informed him, though concern in her voice was evident. Yuji reacted instinctively: he pushed aside the thoughts and the fear churning in his stomach. He smiled in embarrassment as if nothing were amiss. «Ah, sorry, sorry. I just remembered I left my bedroom window open, and they were forecasting rain tonight.» He shamelessly lied, thanking his improvisational skills as that little fib seemed to go unnoticed.
Nobara looked annoyed, not at all surprised by the other's distraction. «You really are an idiot. Anyway, he's Fushiguro Megumi — a meticulous loner who never smiles. And he's Itadori Yuji — an idiot who never arrives on time when told.» She addressed one then the other, not really interested in giving the two boys proper introductions — honestly, she just wanted to return to the table and reclaim her spot next to her girlfriend. Yuji perked up at the mention of the other's name, swallowing. He was almost certain he wouldn't forget it easily.
And as that boy shot a disdainful look at Nobara for her introduction, Yuji decided he could endure for the evening — he would stay a couple of hours, then head home. It wasn't the end of the world. Perhaps that Fushiguro didn't even remember him. Perhaps it was all really just in his head, as it often happened. «If you'll excuse me now, I'll go back to my seat.» Nobara smirked, but just before turning away, she added, «Feel like going to the bar to get me another drink? I finished mine. Anything with strawberries is fine. Thanks!» A few moments later, she had already disappeared.
Yuji felt an odd pressure settling on his shoulders. He swallowed. Just a couple of hours, he repeated in his mind — it wouldn't be that difficult. «That girl never changes, huh? It really seems like we have to do as she says... Fushiguro, right?» His cheerful tone and light-hearted demeanor received no response from the other; in fact, the boy didn't even spare him a glance, simply pocketing his hands and huffing as he started heading towards the bar. «Yeah. I detest her.» Yuji chuckled half-heartedly, not really eager to do so.
The guy's voice was cold, almost annoyed. He seemed entirely uninterested in everything — especially in being there that evening. It was odd. Yuji felt caught off guard, unsure of what to expect from the other guy. Just like when he was on that bench at the bus stop, Yuji experienced a sense of discomfort. He didn't know how to act, what to say, how to carry himself, or which facade to display. Still, he found himself trailing the other guy, trying to keep up.
«Well, I guess that makes sense. Nobara isn't exactly the friendliest, after all... Anyway, I don't think I've ever heard her mention you. How long have you known her?» Yuji attempted to strike up a conversation, hoping the guy would show a more sociable side — mainly because he couldn't stand prolonged silences. In addition, he genuinely wanted to understand if that guy remembered him the way Yuji immediately recalled him. He wanted to know if he had been recognized and whether it could be brought up with Nobara or others — his entire mental stability literally depended on it, and consequently, his entire life.
Fushiguro gave him a sidelong glance, as if the question wasn't welcome. Yuji instantly regretted asking. Nevertheless, the other guy sighed, observing the line forming at the counter, and replied to Yuji more out of boredom than willingness. «I haven't known her for very long. She's dating Maki, my cousin. Ever since they got together, every time we hang out, she pops up. Annoying, but at least she doesn't beat around the bush.» Yuji raised his eyebrows, somewhat surprised by the detailed account of Nobara. This time — surprisingly and unexpectedly — Yuji chuckled genuinely.
«Yeah, she can be pretty persistent when she wants to. But, you know, I've known her for ages, and I know she really, really likes Maki — and I mean, really. You wouldn't believe how many times we discussed it when she first met her. It was love at first sight for her. She might come off as gruff, but she's genuinely a good person, in her own way.» Fushiguro shot him another glare. «Whatever. Not my concern, though.» He muttered, and Yuji scratched his head, feeling the tension between them, now laughing somewhat mechanically.
«So, uh, why are you here? Oh, don't tell me, she forced you too, right? She always does it with everyone, I swear. It's just her way.» Yuji flashed a smile, but the other guy didn't even spare him a glance. «No, Maki forced me.» Concise response, annoyed tone. Fushiguro Megumi didn't enjoy talking; that much was clear. At least, he didn't like small talk and conversations with people he didn't care about.
Once again, Yuji felt the weight of the situation. It rarely happened with anyone. Usually, he could adapt to anyone and engage others, regardless of who they were. But that guy was a complete enigma. Yuji couldn't figure out how to frame him, decipher him, or even approach him. And he was dying to know if he remembered that day. If he was just ignoring him, or if he genuinely forgot. Yuji felt that strange nausea again.
«Ah, it's our turn. Hey, is it possible to order something with strawberries? Any drink will do! Thanks!» He seized the chance to divert the conversation, addressing the bartender and escaping that — failed — attempt at interaction with Fushiguro. The latter remained a few steps behind. His expressionless gaze swept from top to bottom over the guy in the yellow hoodie and blue jacket, lingering on the faded red shoes — a sign of extensive use — up to the pinkish, probably bleached, hair. It felt strangely familiar. All that color, all that disharmony.
«Itadori, was it?» Yuji jolted at the sound of his name. He quickly turned towards Fushiguro, holding Nobara's drink in his hands. «Uh, yeah. Itadori Yuji», he affirmed, gesturing for the other to follow him to their table. In just a few minutes, the place had gotten more crowded, making it a bit tricky to weave through the growing crowd. The music got turned up, pumping with a livelier beat than before. Yet, even with all that, he still caught it behind him — Fushiguro's voice resonated loud and clear. «I think I've seen you before.» The simple statement sent a chill down Yuji's spine. His breath caught, his heart leaped to his throat, and for a moment, he feared he wouldn't be able to hold the glass still in his now trembling fingers. He swallowed, gripped by utter panic.
Fortunately, both had reached the table by then, and Nobara swiftly captured their attention. Yuji feigned ignorance to the other's words, and Fushiguro didn't seem to care. As they settled at the table, Yuji couldn't shake the feeling that the atmosphere had shifted, somehow. Although he and Fushiguro didn't exchange another word for the entire evening, Yuji couldn't shake off the awareness of the other's presence. In some absurd way, he always ended up being the center of his attention. It was as though, in the grand symphony of the evening, the other guy's presence consistently struck a chord within him.
Yuji had tried to distract himself by engaging in conversations with anyone within reach, had downed numerous glasses of beer amidst laughter, and had even indulged Nobara — now almost drunk — by joining her on the dance floor. Yet, no matter how hard he tried, his eyes always found their way back to him. The guy seemed unruffled, just like the first time Yuji laid eyes on him. However, that evening allowed for a closer examination of his facial features and the almost subdued expression on his face.
The black shirt he wore clung almost flawlessly to his torso, and his hair — no longer damp as Yuji remembered — spiked upward, undoubtedly aided by a touch of gel. Despite the simplicity with which he presented himself, Yuji found it incredibly hard to avert his gaze from him. And, because of this, Yuji noticed everything the other did, even the most foolish and unnecessary details. Throughout the whole evening, Fushiguro had done nothing but drink, exchanged little to no words with Maki and Yuta and consistently held his phone. No one seemed to give him much attention — nor did he appear to seek it.
Yuji confirmed his initial impression: that guy wasn't meant to be the center of attention, rather someone on the sidelines. He almost melded into the black of the couch where he sat for most of the evening.
It occurred only once, after Yuji gulped down an entire glass of a vivid blue drink following a bet with Nobara. Their eyes locked; Yuji was still laughing heartily at something someone had said, though he couldn't quite recall what. His head was foggy, and everything seemed to float around him. Yet, that guy's gaze managed to penetrate from across the table, leaving him with a peculiar sense of awareness. It lasted too briefly for him to fully grasp that feeling. Nevertheless, Yuji felt rooted again, with his heart in his throat.
Fushiguro was the first to leave that evening and, initially, Yuji didn't even notice — too many glasses of beer had significantly blurred his focus. When it finally dawned on him, a wave of relief washed over his body. Gradually, everything seemed to find its equilibrium again. The rhythm of the night resumed its course. Suddenly, everything felt effortless: casual conversations, laughter, drinks, dancing. It was as if everything had reverted to the way it was before that guy entered his life. At last, in the following days, Yuji felt a sense of liberation from the curse that guy represented. The feeling didn't last long, though.
Indeed, Fushiguro Megumi reappeared entirely unexpectedly and out of the blue a few weeks later.
It was early October, and Nobara invited Yuji to her dorm room shared with Maki. They became roommates after Nobara's previous one left, unable to tolerate her temperament and constant complaints in less than two months of cohabitation — Yuji wasn't surprised, as few people could endure her, let alone share a dorm room. But Maki Zenin seemed to have managed the feat. Her perpetually tied-up green hair, her shrewd and resolute gaze, and her strength of character seemed to have won over Nobara's heart — along with her charisma, her physical form, her strength, her friendliness, and hundreds of other things that Nobara had listed, but that Yuji didn't quite remember.
Maki turned out to be an excellent roommate and a model student. Despite being a year older, Maki had fallen behind in a few exams due to her professional boxing training. However, she always managed to keep up even better than others who didn't have extracurricular activities. Since her and Nobara strarted dating, it became a habit for Yuji to join their outings, as the three of them got along really well — the fact that Nobara often forced Yuji to leave so she could be alone with her girlfriend was a separate issue.
So, it wasn't really unusual for Yuji to be summoned to their dorm room that specific thursday night. Thinking they would stick to their usual routine — either watching a movie or ordering Chinese takeout — Yuji didn't mind showing up in his casual home clothes, his hair still a bit damp from the shower he had taken after the earlier basketball team training. Though he was quite exhausted and yearned for a nap, he hesitated to decline the girls' invitation. They hadn't been able to meet up frequently lately due to their different schedules, so the opportunity to reunite was always cherished. If luck was on his side, Maki and Nobara might engage in a game, be it cards or on their computers, allowing him to catch some sleep on Maki's bed until, inevitably, Nobara would wake him with a foot in his face and kick him out.
Falling asleep was easy when he wasn't alone. Hearing their voices in the background, in some absurd way, managed to keep him from sensing the anxiety that would otherwise engulf him in his room when he tried to sleep alone. However, his world crumbled when he spotted an unexpected presence sitting carefree on Maki's bed — in his usual spot — with a book open between his hands, his face entirely focused on its pages. His heart skipped a beat, and his hands froze on the doorknob. He felt betrayed — so incredibly betrayed. That was his spot. That was his space. That was his life. Yet, that damned guy kept showing up everywhere, seemingly out of thin air.
Itadori Yuji never really cared about such trivial matters, but the reappearance of that specific boy into his life, gradually encroaching on what was typically his, managed to stir something within him. He couldn't stand it, as he couldn't comprehend why his eyes were so captivated by that seemingly ordinary guy. Fushiguro was too immersed in his book to notice Yuji's presence by the doorway, but Yuji realized it in just a few instant: for the very first time, the other's expression wasn't the familiar annoyed and cold gaze. It was a glimpse of peace that left Yuji baffled and increasingly agitated. His fingers trembled slightly at the warmth emanating from the guy's eyes as he remained engrossed in the book. His body and mind lost their equilibrium once again, and all he wanted to do was to close the door and leave — to run away as fast as he could.
«Finally! The laggard has arrived. We were just talking about ordering some Chinese takeout. We are literally starving because of you. Do you even clock that it's almost nine in the evening?» Nobara welcomed him with an irritated expression, but Yuji couldn't quite grasp the entirety of what she said. Actually, he was too stunned to even speak. He tried with all his force to ignore Fushiguro in the background — who raised his head from the book in the meantime —, dedicating his attention to the girl standing in front of him.
«Hey, Itadori! Long time no see, man. My cousin is tagging along too. Let's say he needed a... quiet place to stay for tonight, hope you don't mind.» Maki popped up from behind Nobara to greet Yuji with a simple wave and a big grin — however, her words sounded a bit awkward as she explained why Fushiguro was there with them that night. Yuji didn't ask further though. In fact, he barely even notice the girl's wave at all — his gaze now back at the boy who was staring at him with again a coldness that Yuji couldn't quite comprehend. He preferred the previous gaze — the one which was warmer. It suited him most, Yuji thought.
Fushiguro sighed. «Like being here with you two has been quiet.» His voice retained its flat, almost ironic tone, though Yuji could detect a hint of annoyance in it. Maki chuckled, almost used to sharp and ironic remarks from the guy by now. It was clear they knew each other well, given the tone with which Maki addressed him again and how he seemed to huff without truly showing signs of genuine disdain for her attitude.
Even Nobara chimed in their banter at some point, and everything felt so odd to Yuji. For the very first time, he felt like an outsider in a context where he had always belonged. For a fleeting moment, Yuji's mind raced with thoughts — he contemplated inventing a sudden excuse to leave the room or pretending to feel unwell, calling it a night. In fact, he found himself unable to stay calm whenever that guy was around. Uncertainty lingered, and all Yuji craved was stability. Unexpected situations were unwelcome; he always preferred having everything under control, and that guy shattered Yuji's sense of command — predicting his next move or grasping his thoughts proved to be an elusive task. Despite wanting to cut the night short, prioritizing his own emotions over others proved challenging.
Yuji didn't really care. If he had to set aside his feelings to prioritize others', it didn't matter. If he found himself facing his own problems alone to help others solve theirs, it didn't matter. And if, in the end, he ended up worse off, it mattered even less. Because Yuji never really cared about himself. It wasn't so important to cater to his own feelings. It wasn't so important to assert his own ideas. Yuji didn't like putting himself on the pedestal he always offered to others.
There was always something holding him back from just trying to climb those steps. Yuji didn't like expressing what he had inside, but he loved listening and helping those in front of him. Yuji never questioned too much the reasons that led him to always want to put others' well-being above his own. He was fine with it — and often, the well-being of others coincided with his own, so it was really fine. Yuji was happy like this. Choosing not to back down that evening came naturally to him. He pushed those feelings aside, took a deep breath, and forced his usual smile, nodding with feigned enthusiasm.
«Ah, yes, Fushiguro. We've already met, right? I don't mind at all!» He was becoming adept at shamelessly concealing his true feelings because, despite appearances, he minded it all. And so, the four of them ended up enjoying hot pot and dumplings, casually chatting about this and that. Yuji found himself seated next to Fushiguro, who reluctantly closed his book after his cousin's third call, coaxing him to join them at the table — «Come on, hurry up! Studying too much is going to make your head explode sooner or later», she teased him, and Fushiguro just responded with an irritated sigh and a casual «I wish it would actually explode. I wouldn't mind.»
As Maki complained that Fushiguro was too busy with his studies to come and watch her boxing matches, Yuji couldn't quite focus on her words. Instead, he found it almost challenging to divert his attention from the guy to his left. There was something in him that didn't set right. An unease lingered, suggesting an underlying complexity behind his partially lackluster gaze and the mildly bored expression he wore. His jaw tightened just a bit, almost involuntarily, as it had happened on that bench, that day in May. He was bothered. Perhaps impatient. It didn't last long, and Yuji couldn't process it in time. He forced himself to re-engage in the conversation and finish his dumplings, but his gaze repeatedly found its way back to the other — often discovering him quietly enjoying his meal, seemingly unfazed by the surroundings.
He seemed tired, almost exhausted. And Yuji wondered how it was possible that even in those dire conditions, that guy continued to captivate his attention. His complexion lacked vibrancy, slight dark circles adorned his eyes, and the strictly black hoodie he wore seemed more suited for sleepwear. There was no sensible reason for that irrational urge to keep watching him, yet Yuji nearly choked on his drink realizing that, perhaps, he couldn't help himself because he found that guy intriguing — in some absurd and peculiar way.
His heart jumped into his throat, then fell back into his chest with an almost audible thud. Yuji froze, completely taken aback. A new wave of terror washed over him. If it had truly been like that, then he was probably going crazy for real. Because there was nothing interesting about that guy — nothing special, nothing worth his attention. In fact, he should have stayed away. The emotions he felt from that guy were a jumbled mess, mostly leaning towards negativity. Yuji couldn't quite wrap his head around him; couldn't even understand him. He found him unbearable — Fushiguro Megumi was an unmanageable problem of a person.
And when confronted with a problem, Yuji's instinct was to avoid, pretend it didn't exist, and simply run away — Yuji was all too familiar with that. So, he had to steer clear of Fushiguro, hoping he wouldn't recall anything from that day. After all, it wouldn't be that challenging. The last time they met, there was minimal interaction — just some polite and insignificant remarks. They shared nothing in common, except for Maki and Nobara. They remained total strangers. Yuji didn't want to relinquish control to that guy.
However, when the other's icy gaze fixed on him, he almost jolted in fear — Yuji had been absorbed, staring at him without even realizing it. «Uh, do you want it?» Fushiguro's voice seemed confused as he pointed to the dumpling clutched between his chopsticks. Yuji raised his eyebrows, not fully understanding what the other was referring to. Fushiguro looked increasingly puzzled. «You've been staring at me for minutes. I thought you were still hungry... If you want it, I'll give it to you.» Only then did Yuji realize he himself was a complete idiot.
He chuckled, embarrassed. «Ah, darn, you caught me! It's just that the training really wore me out, and I'm starving... If you don't want it, I'll gladly eat it!» Yuji didn't lie entirely, as it was true that his stomach was still growling, but it was undoubtedly false that he was looking at Fushiguro for that reason — however, that guy didn't need to know that. Fushiguro's brow furrowed slightly, leaving the dumpling on the plate in front of Yuji. «Training?», he then asked.
Yuji blinked, stunned. He hadn't anticipated a question from the other, especially one that seemed to imply a conversation to follow, considering Fushiguro didn't even appear to enjoy his presence at all. Yet, his blue eyes remained fixed on him, awaiting a response, and Yuji really tried to regain his composure before the other could notice, while immediately skewering the dumpling given to him. It felt odd — definitely odd. «Yeah, I play basketball! University team. Last year we didn't make it to Intercollege, but we're hoping to bounce back this year! Just gotta take down a few more teams to wrap up the regional tourney!»
Yuji grinned proudly, almost unconsciously; his mouth still full while he continued eating. Fushiguro noticed the sparkle in his eyes — it was evident even to him, someone who didn't know Yuji at all, how much he enjoyed playing. «Intercollege as in "All Japan Intercollegiate Basketball Championship"?» Yuji's eyes widened even more at the other guy's words. He never imagined that Fushiguro would know so much about basketball, and it almost startled him again. The enthusiasm and excitement of the moment made him react before he could fully process everything.
«Yeah, that's the one! It's like one of the biggest national tournaments ever! We've been training a lot to make it through the regionals, and luckily last month we managed to beat the Osaka university, one of the strongest teams this year!» Fushiguro raised an eyebrow at the excitement radiating from the boy in front of him. He seemed completely hyped up, with eyes that were so large and so bright, despite being a fairly dark hazel color — definitely the energetic type that didn't quite match Fushiguro's calm and reserved nature.
However, it was at that moment that the black-haired boy remembered. «You were the one who scored the winning shot in the game, weren't you? I remember you, that was impressive.» Yuji felt completely caught off guard by the guy's remarks. He would have expected anything, really, but not Fushiguro Megumi — of all people — complimenting him. For some absurd and bizarre reason, Yuji felt his heart pounding in his head. He swallowed almost reluctantly, but it wasn't fear or the familiar discomfort he now felt when facing that specific boy. No, Yuji was almost excited. Partly satisfied. A surge of adrenaline coursed through his body, much like when he stepped onto the court to play another game. Perhaps because he knew Fushiguro's words were genuine and straightforward — he had understood that from the first moment they spoke.
Knowing that it was that very boy who had complimented him filled him with pride. He couldn't explain it, but he was smiling from ear to ear. «Yeah, it was me! Hold up, were you actually there? No way! You watched the game?» Yuji's voice almost rang out, filled with disbelief, and Fushiguro couldn't help but wonder where he found the energy to be so lively. «Yeah, Maki forced me.»
Fushiguro said it in a flat and neutral tone, yet Yuji chuckled at his words. «Why are you laughing?», the other asked naturally, but Yuji couldn't contain himself, for some absurd reason. He just laughed harder. «It's just... The way you're so resigned about it, it's just hilarious. Sorry.» Fushiguro stared at him; one eyebrow raised and a frown creasing his face. «That girl is a pain in the ass. It's not that funny, you know?» Fushiguro insisted. «But it totally is!» Yuji countered. «It's not, actually. This is just stupid.»
Yuji didn't even notice it at the time — but there he was, laughing wholeheartedly, all because of the same guy who had completely shattered the mental stability he had been trying so hard to preserve. It all felt so effortless that he couldn't even grasp it at first. Maybe the training had mentally exhausted him, or perhaps he was still hungry and couldn't think clearly, yet it didn't weigh on him. Not like it had just a few minutes ago, while still staring at that guy and wondering if the universe really hated him so much. Yuji just couldn't contain that laughter. And the look Fushiguro gave him was priceless, to say the least.
Now, with that guy's irritated — and perhaps embarrassed? — face in front of him, his clear eyes didn't seem so cold anymore. His complexion wasn't too dull. And his expression wasn't as stern. Yuji smiled at him, and it was something he did unconsciously. That sense of relief finally allowed him to feel more at ease, almost like resuming breathing after a long apnea — it took so little.
Suddenly, Fushiguro Megumi's presence didn't seem so bad anymore.
Thanks to that feeling, Yuji decided to give his mind a break that evening. He indulged in laughter and popcorn, getting comfortable in his usual spot when they decided to watch a movie together. They always pushed the beds of the two girls together to sit on the mattresses with Nobara's laptop at the foot of the beds. With little surprise from the two girls — especially Maki —, Fushiguro didn't join the others; instead, he decided to return to studying, sitting on the floor at the small round table where they had shared dinner until shortly before.
Yuji felt a twinge of disappointment for some reason he couldn't quite pinpoint. And, as the raven-haired guy resumed his studies, the others began watching a not-so-recent comedy that managed to make Maki cry with laughter and made Nobara wrinkle her nose — she rarely appreciated the genre, but they had agreed from the start that, for each movie night, everyone would choose a film of their liking in rotation. Yuji slouched on Maki's soft pillow, laughing unrestrainedly at the film's silliest jokes — a reason why Nobara scolded him more than three times in just twenty minutes.
But it was when Fushiguro turned a page of his book that Yuji's gaze landed on him. His movement went unnoticed by the girls, now snuggled together and engrossed in the movie, but Yuji couldn't help but be distracted by watching the other's delicate hand carefully turn the page. He found himself looking at him now, with the excuse that Fushiguro was positioned just a few steps from the foot of the bed, almost in line with his gaze — the laptop became almost bothersome for Yuji, as it obstructed his view of the guy.
Fushiguro seemed unfazed by the laughter or the background movie noise. His attention remained undisturbed, fixed on the book. Yuji noticed a pencil in his hand, jotting occasional notes in the margins. His lips moved silently, reading. As Fushiguro turned another page, Yuji tried to refocus on the screen, but the plot felt suddenly unfamiliar — he'd become so distracted that the story slipped away. Cursing himself, Yuji couldn't resist glancing back at Fushiguro.
Studying seemed to relax that guy — his gaze now appeared so warmer. Yuji observed subtle reactions when he struggled to grasp something — a slight nose scrunch and a furrowed brow. He'd pause, staring at a point, jot down notes, then gradually relax and continue. It was actually so amusing to watch, and Yuji couldn't help but feel the oddness of the whole situation. Why didn't that guy seem so bad, all of a sudden? Even though Yuji still had his reservations and couldn't forget the feelings Fushiguro had stirred in him that May day, it was undeniable that something felt different now.
Maybe Yuji had gotten the wrong impression of him, because looking at him now, he couldn't quite understand how the boy scrunching his nose at a book was the same one who had looked at him with such coldness through the bus window when they first met. Yuji didn't really know what to think, but there was something about the subtle shifts in Fushiguro's expression that captivated and calmed him until fatigue finally closed his eyes. That day had drained him, and he dozed off without fully realizing it. Only when something gently nudged him did he open his eyes. Recognizing the girls' room, he quickly realized Nobara's foot was resting on his face.
«Oh, look who decided to rejoin the land of the living: the Sleeping Beauty», she teased him playfully, and Yuji grumbled an indistinguishable «Just five more minutes» before she nudged him again with her foot, this time with a bit more force. «It's well past midnight and you should hurry back to the dorm to get a proper night's sleep in your own bed, idiot. Fushiguro will give you a ride. Come on, rise and shine!» At first, Yuji didn't fully grasp the girl's words, taking a few seconds to register and hastily sit up, bothered by the overly bright room light and still in a post-wakeup mental haze.
However, his gaze immediately found Fushiguro, busy adjusting his backpack filled with books. Yuji shot him a glance. «Huh? What? A ride? You have a car?» Yuji rubbed his face to regain some clarity; his voice still hoarse from abruptly being awakened. Before the raven-haired guy could speak, Maki spoke up, affectionately resting a hand on his cousin's shoulder. «Actually, it's uncle Toji's car, but since he's rarely in town due to work, it's practically become Fushiguro's», Maki smirked slightly. «Since your dorm is on the way for him, I asked him to give you a lift. You look beat tonight.» The girl with the green ponytail chuckled while Yuji rubbed the back of his neck, nodding.
«Yeah, my legs are still sore from how much I ran. Let's not talk about it, please... Anyways, thank you for the ride, Fushiguro. I owe you one, man.» Yuji forced himself to stand, bowing slightly to the other. The raven-haired guy gave a slight headshake, and Yuji only realized then — much to his disappointment — that the serene expression on his face had returned to the usual frown. Fushiguro just shrugged. «It's no big deal, let's go.»
Both left the girls' room shortly after, descending the stairs in silence. Yuji still couldn't grasp what was happening, and he couldn't tell if the strange feeling in the pit of his stomach was due to his sudden awakening or the presence of the boy next to him, whom he thought he feared more than anything else. As they stepped outside, a blast of cold air hit them, and Yuji huddled in his hoodie. Fushiguro gave him a glance. «Aren't you cold with just that hoodie on?» The pink-haired boy almost jumped at the question, chuckled a bit, adjusting the basketball bag on his shoulder.
«Actually, yes, but I didn't stop by my dorm to avoid being too late. The training sessions got rescheduled for later this week, and grabbing just a jacket didn't seem worth the time, you know?» He explained, a bit embarrassed, while the other guy frowned. «If I hadn't shown up, would you have gone back to your dorm like this?» Yuji felt scolded, almost like a child — and, perhaps, that was the essence of the situation. Upon second thought, he hadn't really considered the aftermath of the evening and how he would have to make his way back to his room in the cold. At times, he despised the overall vastness of his campus and detested having to rely constantly on public transportation to move between his dormitory and the farther-away women's dormitory. He decided to shrug it off.
«I would have asked Nobara for a jacket. I have two of mine in her closet that I always forget to take. It's not really a big deal.» He laughed lightly, but Fushiguro huffed slightly, displeased. «That's nosense. Don't do it again, please. You might catch a cold, especially after training.» The comment left Yuji baffled, and he felt his face warm up; his eyes now widened completely. There was nothing strange about that advice — even Nobara repeated it constantly —, but when said by Fushiguro, everything seemed to have a different impact on him. He didn't even know why that guy stirred him so much deep down with every gesture. Ignoring that constant twisting of his stomach was becoming complicated. He swallowed, half nodding, not quite able to respond.
Both reached the guy's dark car shortly after, and Yuji couldn't find any suitable conversation topic, once again too aware of his actions and words. He almost wished to go back a few hours, when his eyes calmly watched that guy's face while he studied, and no particular thoughts crossed his mind.
So, he tried to lean back against the passenger seat while a soft pop song played from the car speakers, and the darkness of the night enveloped the streets illuminated only by street lamps. A sweet, warm scent filled the car, and the vehicle's movement managed to lull Yuji until he found himself once again drifting into a sleep almost more pleasant than the one experienced on the girls' bed.
As Fushiguro pulled up at the entrance of Yuji's dorm, the other remained asleep. Despite Fushiguro's attempts to wake him, Yuji seemed too tired to notice. Fushiguro watched him for a moment as the faint light of the car illuminated his clear face. It was only then that he noticed the freckles — almost invisible to an inattentive eye — scattered across his face, while a gentle calmness seemed to settle over Yuji's expression, one he hadn't seen before — quite a change from his usual lively self and the energy he had earlier. It appeared that Yuji had trained until he exhausted himself. He really came across as the quirky type, somewhat irresponsible and too careless for his own good. Fushiguro wondered why he had shown up at the girl's dorm if he was so tired.
However, the black-haired boy didn't feel like calling him any further. Maybe it was because he noticed the guy's exhaustion, or perhaps, in a more self-centered manner, he wasn't eager to return home just yet, knowing his father would likely be there. He took a deep breath and left the car running to continue warming the cabin, reaching for his backpack on the back seats. He pulled out the book and his pencil, not waiting any longer to get back to studying.
The air was filled with nothing but the rhythmic breaths of Yuji, yet the other found an unexpected comfort in the stillness, with the guy still peacefully asleep beside him. Occasionally, he caught murmurs or a subtle shift against the seat, but the presence posed no disturbance. While jotting down notes on a paragraph to extract keywords, the tranquility was broken by a yawn from the other side. Glancing to his left, he found Yuji, rubbing his eyes and finally starting to wake up.
«f*ck... I need to pee... Uh? Ah, Fushiguro... I fell asleep again, sorry...» Yuji muttered in a hoarse voice, still partly sleepy, and Fushiguro resumed writing, casually shrugging. «I tried to wake you, but you looked exhausted, so I let you sleep a bit longer», explained Fushiguro, too engrossed in the book to notice the other's wide-eyed gaze. In fact, Yuji's eyes had just fallen on the dashboard, displaying the time. «It's two in the morning», he said, almost incredulous, and Fushiguro gave a half-glance at the time. He hadn't noticed at all, but it didn't bother him as much as it did the other. «Oh, I didn't check, sorry. We've arrived anyway; you can go.» It was only then that Fushiguro noticed Yuji's expression. He seemed astonished, almost taken aback. «Why... Why did you let me sleep for so long?»
Fushiguro couldn't grasp why Yuji appeared so unsettled by it. «I've already told you, you seemed tired. I took the opportunity to study a bit more, so it's not-» Fushiguro paused. Despite the dim lighting in the car, he noticed a glimmer in Yuji's eyes. A sudden weight seemed to drop onto the pink-haired boy's shoulders without warning. He felt overwhelmed. His heart pounded loudly in his head. The unexpected and sudden kindness from the other left him almost shocked. Yuji found himself unsure how to navigate these gestures. He didn't know how to handle it.
It just wasn't something he'd ever expected from the Fushiguro Megumi he had in mind all this time. In Yuji's eyes, it just didn't make sense. Why did his kindness bother him so much? It felt silly, yet his heart was in his throat. He didn't feel deserving of such care or attention, and it left him feeling exposed and vulnerable. The guilt churned in his stomach, making him nauseous. Perhaps that was what tormented him the most.
«You... You didn't have to. You should've woken me up. You must be tired too. Thanks again for the ride.» Yuji spoke with an uncomfortable lump in his throat, not even looking at the other for fear of breaking down — it had happened once before, and he wouldn't allow it to repeat, especially over something as trivial as this. He was almost hyperventilating — Yuji realized it only when the cold air outside the car brought relief rather than discomfort, contrasting with the warmth inside.
He was about to close the door and make a hasty exit, not giving the guy a chance to say anything, but Fushiguro called his name, and his voice sounded so different from its usual flat tone. Yuji felt his knees go weak — he couldn't move. «Itadori-», the raven-haired guy began, only to realize that he didn't know how to continue. Yuji took a deep breath before the other could come up with something to say. He turned around and forced a smile, sincerely hoping Fushiguro would buy it. Once again, Yuji found himself acting foolishly over something so minor, and he hated himself for it. It was the same old story. He reminded himself to take a deep breath before speaking.
«Sorry, Fushiguro. I just feel guilty. I'll definitely make it up to you somehow. Thanks again. Goodnight!» He rushed through his farewell, but he almost felt his heart sink when he noticed the other's gaze. Fushiguro was looking at him with an expression he had never seen on his face before. He seemed a bit disappointed, and Yuji's smile almost faltered.
Fushiguro's eyebrows were slightly arched, lips parted, and the blue in his eyes seemed almost liquefied, contrary to the usual ice that resided within. It was almost imperceptible, and Yuji couldn't quite identify each nuance, try as he might. His heart pounded too loudly in his ears, and his chest felt increasingly constricted. He swallowed, feeling again so guilty.
Fushiguro didn't say anything at first, but then he nodded, and Yuji felt as if he could breathe again. «It's okay, really. You don't need to do anything... Goodnight.» His voice remained consistently flat, but Yuji noticed another subtle shift this time. It lasted too briefly for him to pinpoint the causes, but the other's affirmation, in some absurd way, warmed his chest a bit. Yuji smiled again as Fushiguro gave him a simple wave, casting one last glance before setting aside his book and putting his hands back on the wheel. Yuji watched his car disappear into the darkness, succumbing to another wave of cold air.
Something felt off. Something wasn't working within him. Inexplicably, something had shifted, and he couldn't quite understand how to handle the situation. Small, insignificant details were never Yuji Itadori's concern. Yet, for some strange reason, he could recall every tiny aspect of that guy. From the frosty gaze during their first encounter at the bus stop to the composed figure on the couch at Nobara's party, and he was certain he'd also imprint in his memory the way his expression relaxed in the presence of a book.
It started abruptly, becoming something increasingly constant. The sudden entry of that guy into his life had breached a line meant to keep everything out. And now, with someone infiltrating the protective walls of his innermost self, Yuji felt completely defeated. Just a few months had been enough to entirely reshape the delicate equilibrium of his already unstable world. It took so little.
That's how Fushiguro Megumi soon dismantled it all, reducing to pieces everything that surrounded Yuji — every belief, every certainty, and every defense —, leaving him in a state of complete disorientation, adrift amidst the shattered fragments of his own existence.
