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. Completely engaged in each moment, every instant a continuous motion, every minute an unstoppable rhythm.
So absorbed in the rush of his own existence, he often became oblivious to the smaller details around him — including the quiet, instinctive gestures he carried out for others.
It really 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 on. He just refilled Nobara's empty glass while they waited for their food. He just helped the elderly woman carry her bags across the street outside the market. There was no need to plan or think ahead; it simply came instinctively.
Yuji never really cared about such trivial things, barely sparing them a thought. He moved through life effortlessly, simply pressing 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 practices, 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 had been an eighteen-year-old college graduate, ready to step into a new chapter. Time slipped through his fingers — no room to keep track of it! — and now he was twenty, living in his small dorm room, studying to become the best version of himself, determined to squeeze every drop out of each day.
Yuji never really cared. And it was so simple, yet so difficult, sometimes. He knew that all too well.
Occasionally, while studying in the library on a typical Thursday afternoon, it would hit him out of nowhere — the sudden awareness that he was still trapped in his own mind, confined within the walls of his head. Really, he was just trying to quiet those thoughts, to distract himself from the chaos inside. No matter how much he filled each moment with something — anything — it still wouldn’t be enough.
When that strange, suffocating feeling grew stronger, the pit of his stomach clenched, and his insides twisted. He hated it. Feeling so helpless. So out of control. So vulnerable. So utterly pathetic.
In moments like that, Yuji always felt like crying.
But he was used to it by now: he just shrugged, slowed his breathing, and reread the same sentence four, five, six times — until his eyes stopped stinging. Then he’d grab his favorite pen — the one with the little smiley face Nanami had given him for his nineteenth birthday — and start jotting down more words, finishing his assignment. No lingering sadness as he left the building with a big smile, ready to hop into Todo’s car, which had just arrived to take him to the gym.
It felt good, and he’d forget these messy moments until the next one came — no need to dwell on them in the meantime.
Yuji never really cared, so he just kept going. It didn’t bother him if, sometimes, he had to slip out to the bathroom during a lecture just to catch his breath, only to come back later and ask for notes.
He’d laugh it off with the others, joking about how he always got lost in his thoughts — after all, he’d always been a bit clumsy. Everyone who knew him was used to it by now, and most of them didn’t mind sharing their notes with him.
It didn’t really matter if his heart raced at night, pounding against his chest and keeping him awake — he was used to sleeping only a few hours anyway. He didn’t even need an alarm clock anymore. It didn’t matter if he had to turn the volume up in the shower, just to drown out whatever thoughts tried to surface.
He didn’t really care — or at least, that’s what he liked to tell himself.
But, in truth, Itadori Yuji did care.
In those quiet moments of solitude, he cared about every breath he took, every small movement of his body, every word, every thought.
It was all too much to handle, and he didn’t even know where to begin making sense of it — if anything, he didn’t want to know where it started in the first place. It felt easier to ignore it all. Little by little, it became something normal — almost natural.
So, the worse things got, the more he tried to distract himself. To be around others. To keep doing something — anything. Not to think about it. And everything felt so easy when he did.
Everything was easy when he played basketball. Everything was easy when he went shopping with Nobara. Everything was easy when he and Junpei went to their usual cinema.
Everything was easy, as long as he didn’t think.
The problem was, Yuji couldn’t always distract himself. That was a fact. So he just had to deal with it — at least, that’s what he kept telling himself, as if it wasn’t really that big of a deal.
Itadori Yuji didn’t mind keeping it all to himself — and that truly didn’t matter. He wanted to be someone others could look up to, someone who could carry not only his own pain, but theirs as well. Someone reliable, someone to call in times of need, capable of handling everything without faltering.
He wanted to shoulder it all, to carry those burdens alongside everyone else. To be a pillar of strength — just as his grandfather would have wanted. And he wouldn’t let anyone see him as anything less. Not even Nanami, the closest thing to a father he had ever known, despite being his literature professor and personal 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 covered bench at the bus stop, seeking refuge from the rain, he realized he had about ten minutes before the next bus arrived. With no one else around, he made the mistake of closing his eyes and leaning back, thinking that giving in to that familiar weight would be harmless for just a few moments.
He couldn’t have been more wrong.
Three minutes into his emotional breakdown, regret began to seep in, and he found himself wishing he could dissolve into the raindrops, disappear into the wet ground. Because, when he opened his teary eyes, an intruder was suddenly there — sitting right beside him, as if he had appeared out of nowhere, invading both his space and his moment.
No one else had been around, and yet that stranger had chosen that exact spot, right along the thin line that separated the outside world from the turmoil swirling inside Yuji’s mind.
It was all there — everything contained within that fragile boundary, now breached and violated. They had never met before, and yet Yuji realized he was breaking down — for the very first time — in the presence of someone else.
And suddenly, he became painfully aware of the tears still clinging to his eyes, the trembling of his fingers, and the small space between his leg and the stranger’s. In that moment, he wished he could go completely unseen — neither by this guy nor by anyone else.
The guy didn’t spare him a glance, seemingly oblivious to Yuji’s breakdown — or at least, that was all Yuji could hope for. Within seconds, he tried to make himself imperceptible: slowing his breath until it was nearly silent, stopping the rhythmic tap of his foot. Yuji sat frozen; a loud silence stretched around them.
It felt strange. Uncomfortable. Vulnerable.
Just as he thought he could allow himself a moment to drop the act — just a moment, since his bus would arrive in a few 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 irritation toward the guy only grew.
Meanwhile, the boy just sat there, unperturbed, seemingly indifferent to the havoc he’d caused. Yuji’s gaze shifted to him — to his face partially hidden, seated slightly ahead, revealing only his back.
He appeared monotonous — flat — at first glance, in his dark jacket and black pants. Nothing stood out to catch the eye, no intriguing detail that demanded attention — almost like a shadow among many, blending into the ground, unnoticed. A mere extra.
His black hair was slightly damp, likely from dashing around with only his now wet backpack over his head. Fatigue slouched his shoulders, and the small part of his face that was visible looked strained, as if he were clenching his teeth to stifle a scream. He seemed worn out simply by existing.
For some inexplicable reason, the longer he stared at him, the more suffocated Yuji felt, his chest tightening around his lungs. Despite his efforts to steady himself, an unsettling anxiety gnawed from within.
By some stroke of luck, help arrived just in time.
Yuji quickly turned his gaze to the bus that had just pulled up. He rose to his feet, still shaky, his knees unsteady. It was unlike anything he’d felt before — feeling so disoriented. He didn’t even notice that the stranger had stayed behind on the bench, not following him onto the bus. His instinct just screamed at him to escape, to run away from that guy.
Yuji moved with haste, desperate to board and get as far away as possible. Within moments, he managed to steady his breathing; the farther he distanced himself, the easier it became to draw air again.
Somehow, absurdly, he even managed a wide, natural smile at the bus driver — his red eyes unnoticed. As if nothing had happened, he continued down the narrow aisle, spotting an empty seat shortly after.
Settling with his yellow backpack on his lap, Yuji found himself unable to resist. Try as he might, he couldn’t control it — his gaze wandered, pulled irresistibly toward the bus window. And there he was — the boy, still on the bench.
Yuji felt his heart leap into his throat. Their eyes met, though his own vision was still blurred by tears.
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 utterly nacked.
It was the first time someone had witnessed his raw vulnerability, and a piece of him crumbled. His mind went blank, his breath hitched.
The stranger’s gaze stayed fixed on his, as if trying to bore straight through him.
Yuji felt a shiver run down his spine. He recognized the signs: his heart racing in his chest, his breath trembling, his head wavering. A tingling, all-too-familiar sensation traveled up his arms, while an unusually heavy weight pressed on his chest, squeezing.
He was used to his little panic attacks, always keeping them contained within himself. Yet this time felt different — stranger, in a way. More unsettling. He had never felt such terror.
Being seen, completely exposed in someone else’s eyes, made him nauseous.
Itadori Yuji didn't care about many things, but suddenly he cared about this stranger.
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 that stranger to acknowledge him at all.
He didn’t want to see him again.
And, as if hearing his silent plea, the bus began to move.
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 attention to the people around him at the bus stop. Wrapped in a thick hoodie under a light jacket, red headphones resting over his ears, Yuji soaked in the autumn atmosphere.
Just half an hour after his last class of the day, he was already looking forward to heading back to the dorm, grabbing a quick bite, and meeting Todo for a gym session. It had been a long week without training, caught between rescheduled basketball practices and remedial classes — the latter, of course, courtesy of Nanami. Skipping them meant 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 to celebrate a hard-earned victory in her college journey — passing an exam she swore was one of the most challenging and complicated ever devised by mankind. It had taken her seven months and four attempts, but still — «A win is a win», she'd said proudly.
Yuji found himself dragged into it, with no real say in the matter, and resigned himself to his fate — a familiar feeling when it came to 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 teenage years, in an unexpected collision in the bustling high school cafeteria. In a moment of pure clumsiness, Yuji managed to spill curry all over her uniform.
Despite his sincere apologies — and triple reimbursement for the ruined clothes — she still held it against him. That was when Nobara started throwing threats his way, determined to make him pay for what she considered an unforgivable mistake.
Despite the rocky start, Yuji quickly realized he didn’t need a long list of shared interests to get along with her. Somehow, he always felt at ease when she was around. They soon became a functional team, despite their loud and very different personalities.
With time, he learned to read her subtle cues. She rarely said what she felt — too much pride for that — but small gestures spoke for her. Handing you a can of cola, for instance, was her quiet way of saying she had your back.
Yuji appreciated those moments silently, best not mentioned aloud — unless someone wanted a fist in the 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 between them. Nobara could still be challenging, with her presumptuous and occasionally rude demeanor, but she remained one of the few people Yuji trusted implicitly.
Despite everything, having her around was comforting — even if it meant giving up control whenever she included him in her plans. So, when her message popped up on his phone screen, he couldn’t help but smile.
from Nobara (๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ✧˖°:
Don't forget. Tonight. 9PM. And bring me a present, I deserve it. Bye.
5:16 PM
Yuji wondered if the pink bag he’d picked under Maki’s advice the previous week would actually be appreciated.
The hunt for the perfect gift had lasted nearly two hours and taken him through six different shops. By the end, he started to think that enduring two more months of remedial courses might have been preferable to another ten minutes of this gift-hunting torture — and he really, really hated his remedial courses.
He shrugged, sliding his cellphone back into his pocket, but not before sending her a sticker of a soldier standing at attention, hand raised in salute.
Between his gym session and the usual banter with the guys, the evening crept up faster than he realized — the clock struck eight before he even noticed. Realizing he was running late, Yuji quickly took a shower and wasted no time upon reaching the dorm. He changed clothes, tidied his slightly tousled — and still damp — hair, slipped on his usual red shoes, and dashed out the door.
The time on his phone read 9:08 PM, but he didn’t care much, resigning himself to the scolding Nobara would surely deliver in less than twenty minutes. Clutching the gift bag to his chest, he ran breathlessly toward the metro station nearest the dorm.
«Hey Nob, I'm on my way, I swear! Give me ten minutes, sorry! And get me a beer, thanks! You're the best!»
He sent the voice message and hastily shoved his phone back into his pocket.
About fifteen minutes later, he finally arrived and immediately spotted the venue: a fluorescent pink sign marked the entrance, casting a vibrant glow over the glass doors. Violet and blue lights bathed the interior in a soft, almost mystical ambiance, while sleek white tables were scattered throughout. A pop track drifted from the speakers, its rhythm steady and almost futuristic, somehow perfectly in tune with the place.
A hand adorned with sparkling bracelets shot up, and Yuji’s gaze followed it, landing instantly on Nobara — her face already set in that unmistakable “finally” look.
«About time, idiot!»
Her voice cut through the music as she rose from the table to meet him halfway. Wrapped in a sleek dress and matching high-heeled boots, she carried herself with effortless style. Yuji let out an awkward laugh, absently scratching the back of his neck.
«I know, I know, my bad! But hey, I got you a present as requested — Ta-daa!»
Her eyes lit up the moment she spotted the bag clutched to his chest, a mischievous smile flickering across her face as she eagerly snatched it from his hands. Her painted nails caught the light, glinting as she moved.
«Bare minimum, idiot. I'll forgive you, but only because this one isn't too bad.»
She examined the bag with feigned composure, but the way her eyes brightened and her lips struggled to hide a genuine smile made it clear she liked it.
«You know, you could compliment me sometimes», Yuji shot back. «It wasn’t easy finding the perfect gift! I think I did a pretty good job.»
She rolled her eyes, one eyebrow lifting.
«Don’t get ahead of yourself now. I know Maki helped you — I’m not dumb enough to believe you’d guess what kind of bag I’d like. Every time we go shopping, you pick things I’d burn without hesitation.»
He chuckled, feigning innocence, fully aware he was only setting himself up for another insult — and enjoying it anyway.
They hadn’t seen each other much in the past two weeks, and he realized, in that moment, how much he’d missed this — and her.
«Come on, everyone’s already here — I’ve already ordered your stupid beer, so you can thank me later.»
Yuji grinned, clearly pleased, stealing a glance at the others already settled on the black couches around the table. He spotted Maki and Yuta deep in conversation, while Fumi and Saori sat nearby. Miwa was there too — he hadn’t seen her in months, thanks to different study paths and friend circles.
A couple of unfamiliar faces, probably from Nobara’s course, were chatting among themselves, already looking ready to leave the table and drift toward the cozy dance floor tucked at the back of the spacious venue.
Nobara turned back to him, her chestnut bob swaying with the movement, but her gaze didn’t linger on Yuji. It slipped past him instead, fixing on someone just behind his shoulder, and a moment later, she shifted her attention entirely.
«Oh, look who finally decided to show up. And you were even slower than Yuji — that’s an achievement in itself. Seriously, I hate you both.»
Her irritation now aimed at the new arrival, and Yuji instinctively glanced over to see who had just joined them.
A tall guy dressed in black stood right there, now shooting her an annoyed look. His blue eyes were eerily still, almost lifeless. A pale complexion, sharp features, and a cold gaze now locked onto him.
Yuji recognized him instantly.
The memory hit all at once, crashing over him in a nauseating wave. His eyes widened slightly as his heart skipped a beat.
The bus stop. The rain. The stranger with damp black hair.
His throat tightened. Breathless. Sick. Just like that 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 in the midst of that confusion, something else surfaced. A memory pushed its way through, as if it had been buried somewhere deep until that very moment — a conversation from 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, had once detained him after class to discuss the reasons behind his initial exam scores. Yuji had begun by explaining how his extracurricular activities took up most of his time, but had eventually drifted into a passionate explanation of his fascination with paranormal phenomena and ghosts.
Even now, Nanami couldn’t quite grasp how the boy had managed to weave such disparate topics together so effortlessly in just a few minutes.
Over the past year, Itadori Yuji had proven to be an incredibly curious individual — his eyes lighting up like a child’s whenever he delved into his passions. Yet beneath that enthusiasm, his discipline and eagerness to improve revealed a surprising level of maturity.
Nanami had only a general understanding of the circumstances in which the boy had grown up. He knew Yuji had lost his parents in first grade and had been raised by his grandfather, who had also passed away a few years later from lung cancer. After that, a young neighbor named Choso had taken care of him, looking after his well-being.
Perhaps the absence of a consistent adult figure had instilled in him a deep need for guidance from someone older and more experienced.
However, as Yuji had opened up more, seeking advice or simple validation, Nanami had begun to form a clearer understanding of his personality and essence. The man soon realized he admired Yuji’s ability to keep a smile, even in the face of past hardships, and the sincerity with which he spoke about those around him.
Despite their contrasting temperaments — Yuji’s liveliness clashing with Nanami’s calm demeanor — the professor had made it a point to offer a sense of security, acting as a dependable adult figure the boy could rely on.
Generally reserved with younger individuals — a trait that often intimidated his students due to his seriousness — Nanami noticed that Yuji remained unfazed. 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 the computer.
«Yes, an epiphany. James Joyce explored this concept in one of his works: "Dubliners". Have you ever experienced a profound realization or a moment of illumination during a routine activity, Itadori?»
Nanami’s voice remained calm and steady, holding Yuji’s attention. He had leaned on his folded arms, 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.
«Mh, not really. An epiphany is similar to a déjà vu, but it's also very different.»
«How so?»
Yuji had inquired once more, while Nanami’s focus remained steadfast on the screen.
«An epiphany is a 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 comprehends a situation.»
Yuji let the words slip past him, as they often did when Nanami delved into intricate explanations. But the professor rarely stopped at a mere definition — Yuji had learned that. He remained silent, anticipation reflected in his gaze, waiting for Nanami to unfold the complexity.
And so, the man 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 about gaining understanding, while déjà vu is about the sensation of reliving a moment.»
«Mh. I guess it makes sense. But what does all of this have to do with the question I asked?»
«You wanted to know why I chose to become a professor of literature, didn’t you?»
Yuji had nodded, and Nanami's lips had curved into a slight, knowing grin.
«I had an epiphany, back when I was around your age. One day, I decided to switch up my usual route home and ended up passing by a library. On a whim, I went in and picked up some poetry books someone had left on a table. And it just hit me. Right there, I realized I wanted to dive deeper. I wanted to explore the world behind those verses and become someone who could share that same sense of wonder with others. So I did.»
«Wait... Just like that?»
«Just like that.»
Yuji had stared at him, dumbfounded. He had always thought of Nanami as meticulous and precise — the kind of man who planned every detail of his life. The idea that someone like him had chosen his entire career on a whim had unsettled him slightly.
Just a change of path. A few poetry books.
An epiphany.
«You could call it the butterfly effect», Nanami had gone on. «Small changes leading to drastically different outcomes over time. It’s interesting, when you think about it. Things happen, and you never realize until you look back.»
At the time, Yuji couldn’t help but wonder what might have happened if Nanami had taken his usual route that day instead. Most likely, their paths would never have crossed — and the thought alone stirred a quiet, unfamiliar sadness in him.
Nanami was his professor, yes, but he was also someone Yuji deeply respected — someone he aspired to become. His approval carried weight; his opinion mattered more than Yuji would ever admit out loud. The idea that all of that could have simply not existed left him strangely unsettled.
He found himself wondering if a seemingly insignificant moment — a small, ordinary choice — could truly hold the power to shape a life so profoundly, and the lives that would come to intertwine with it.
Was it really that simple? Could an entire life shift because of something so small, so unexpected? Something that wasn’t even supposed to happen? A shiver ran down Yuji’s spine.
He was still standing there, frozen, facing the boy who had just walked in. Was it all just a coincidence? Could something so trivial truly unravel everything like this?
And then it clicked.
He finally understood what his professor had meant that day — how something ordinary, almost insignificant, could set off a chain of events far greater than itself. A domino effect.
In his case, all it had taken was a missed bus.
«Things happen, and you never realize until you look back.»
Yuji felt sick — so sick. He had convinced himself he’d forgotten. He had been sure that everything from that day in May had faded from his memory. And yet, it had taken so little for it all to come rushing back — and he was sure now that he coul have never forget it again.
He could almost hear the deafening rain again, feel the tremor in his fingers as he struggled to regain control, forcing his breath into something steady. That gaze behind the bus glass still lingered, sharp and cold.
His stomach churned, his head threatening to spin.
How had he managed to forget? Perhaps because he had been certain they would never meet again.
That boy had seemed peripheral — someone he shouldn’t have even registered in the chaos of his life. Someone he was sure he’d never cross paths with again. So why, out of everyone in that place, was it him standing right there? Why him, out of all the possible people who could have been there instead?
The thought was suffocating — terrifying.
The idea that he could be so easily shaken by a stranger — by someone who had witnessed one of his breakdowns — made his chest tighten. It felt ridiculous. Humiliating. He felt foolish all over again, unable to make sense of himself.
He wanted to disappear, just like that day.
But this time, no bus would come to save him.
It felt like a cruel joke — one he couldn’t even begin to find amusing.
«Yuji?»
Nobara’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts, and he jerked, quickly averting his gaze from the boy. Her eyes, sharp and observant, lingered on him with a skeptical expression.
«You there? Damn, you look like a corpse — so pale.»
Concern threaded her tone despite the teasing. Yuji’s instinct kicked in: he shoved aside the spiraling thoughts, the knot of fear in his stomach, and forced a sheepish smile.
«Ah... Yeah, sorry! I just remembered I left my bedroom window open, and they said it might rain tonight.»
A small lie, delivered smoothly. He silently thanked his improvisational skills and forced the biggest smile he could muster, relieved it seemed to pass unnoticed. Nobara, of course, looked annoyed — though not in the least surprised.
«Dumbass. Anyway, this is Fushiguro Megumi — antisocial, hates fun. And this is Itadori Yuji — way too social, loves fun. I’m sure you two are gonna get along just great.»
She glanced between them, dryly teasing, clearly uninterested in proper introductions. She just wanted to get back to the table and reclaim her spot next to her girlfriend now that she had even secured the present Fushiguro had brought her — under duress, of course.
Yuji stiffened at the mention of the other’s name, swallowing hard. As his gaze shifted back to him, he knew those syllables would be etched into his memory this time, no matter how hard he tried to forget — the name, or the boy.
Fushiguro shot Nobara a disdainful look at her introduction, muttering something under his breath that Yuji couldn’t quite catch over the music.
Still, Yuji forced himself to settle. He could endure this — just a couple of hours, then he’d head home.
It wasn’t the end of the world — or at least, that’s what he was hoping for.
Maybe that guy didn’t even remember him. Maybe it really was all in his head, like it often was.
«If you’ll excuse me», Nobara smirked, but just before turning away, she added, «Feel like getting me another drink? I’m out. Anything with strawberries is fine. Thanks!»
And, a moment later, she had already disappeared.
An odd weight settled on Yuji’s shoulders. He swallowed. Just a couple of hours, he repeated to himself — it wouldn’t be that hard.
Right.
...Right?
«She never changes, huh? Guess we don’t really get a choice... Fushiguro, right?»
His attempt at a cheerful tone fell flat. The boy didn’t even look at him — hands in his pockets, he simply let out a quiet huff and started toward the bar.
«Yeah. I hate her.»
Yuji let out a half-hearted chuckle, though he didn’t quite feel like laughing.
The guy’s voice was cold, edged with annoyance. He seemed completely uninterested in everything — especially in being there that night. It was odd.
Yuji felt caught off guard, unsure of what to expect from him. Just like back at the bus stop, a quiet discomfort crept in, settling under his skin. He didn’t know how to act, what to say, how to carry himself — which version of himself to show.
And yet, he still found himself trailing after him, trying to keep up.
«Yeah... I mean, fair. Nobara can be a lot», he said, rubbing the back of his neck. «Uh, I don’t think I’ve heard her mention you before though. Are you guys friends?»
He tried to strike up a conversation, hoping — maybe — the guy would turn out to be more sociable. Mostly because he couldn’t stand the silence stretching between them. But there was something else, too.
Yuji needed to know.
Did he remember him? Had he recognized him the same way Yuji had? Could it all come up — here, with Nobara, and with the others?
The thought alone made his chest tighten. It shouldn’t have mattered. And yet, it felt like everything depended on it.
Fushiguro shot him a sidelong glance, like the question already annoyed him. Yuji instantly regretted asking. Still, he sighed, eyes drifting to the line forming at the counter, and answered — more out of boredom than anything else.
«Tch. Friends?», he echoed, like the word itself bothered him. «She’s dating Maki, my cousin. Ever since they got together, she’s everywhere. Annoying, but at least she’s straightforward.»
Yuji blinked, a little surprised by the detailed explanation — he hadn’t really expected a full sentence from him — and, before he knew it, a genuine laugh slipped out that he couldn’t hide.
«Yeah, that sounds like her. She’s always been pretty direct!», he nodded. «Didn’t know Maki had a cousin, though. I’ve known Nobara forever, and I can tell you for sure, she really likes Maki. Like, seriously. When they first met, it was all she talked about. Total love at first sight.»
He smiled a little, softer now.
«She can be a bit much sometimes, but she’s a good person — in her own way, of course.»
Fushiguro shot him another annoyed look.
«Yeah. Whatever.»
He muttered it, already turning his back on him again.
Yuji felt the tension settle between them once again, thick and uncomfortable, and let out a small, mechanical laugh. Maybe Nobara hadn’t been exaggerating — Fushiguro Megumi really did seem antisocial. Allergic to fun, even.
He looked genuinely bothered by Yuji’s presence.
«So, uh... Why are you here?» Yuji tried again, keeping his tone light. «Don’t tell me — she forced you too, right? Classic her. Sure, she wanted to celebrate passing her exam, but probably also just wanted to get everyone together since we hardly hang out anymore with our schedules. Or maybe she just needed an excuse to snag some free presents. Yeah, that’s probably it.»
He forced a laugh, trying to ignore the panic rising in his chest, words spilling out faster than he could stop them. He shifted slightly to catch Fushiguro’s profile, but the other didn’t even look his way.
«No, Maki forced me. And of course it’s just for the presents.»
Concise response, annoyed tone. Fushiguro Megumi didn't enjoy talking, and that much was clear. It seemed like small talk wasn’t his thing, especially with people he didn’t care about.
Yuji laughed awkwardly. It wasn’t something that happened often. Usually, he could adapt to anyone, strike up a conversation, even with strangers. But this guy was different — a complete enigma. Yuji couldn’t figure him out — how to approach him, how to read him.
And he was dying to know if he remembered that day. Was he ignoring him on purpose, or had he genuinely forgotten? The familiar nausea twisted in his stomach.
«Ah, it’s our turn. Hey, can I get something with strawberries? Any drink is fine, thanks!»
Yuji seized the opportunity to redirect the conversation, addressing the bartender and giving himself a moment to escape the failed attempt at interaction with Fushiguro.
The other boy stayed a few steps behind, his expressionless gaze sweeping over Yuji from top to bottom — red hoodie, blue jacket, the faded red shoes worn from constant use, all the way up to the pinkish, probably bleached hair. It felt oddly familiar, jarring even. All that color, all that disharmony.
«Itadori, was it?»
Yuji jolted at the sound of his name. He quickly turned toward Fushiguro, clutching Nobara’s drink a little too tightly.
«Uh, yeah. Itadori Yuji», he nodded, motioning for the other to follow him toward their table.
In just a few minutes, the place had grown noticeably more crowded, making it tricky to weave through the throng. The music had been turned up, the beat now livelier, pumping through the room.
Even so, Fushiguro’s voice cut through it effortlessly.
«I think I’ve seen you before.»
And it sent a chill down Yuji's spine.
His breath caught, his heart leaped to his throat, and, for a moment, he feared his trembling hands wouldn’t be able to hold the glass steady. He swallowed, panic tightening its grip around him.
Fortunately, both had reached the table by then. Yuji ignored Fushiguro’s words, pretending he hadn’t really heard them, and the other didn’t seem to care anyway.
As they settled at the table, Yuji couldn’t shake the feeling that the atmosphere had subtly shifted. Even though he and Fushiguro didn’t exchange another word all evening, Yuji remained painfully aware of the other’s presence. It was as if, in the grand symphony of the night, that presence struck a note that resonated only with him.
Yuji tried to distract himself, hopping between conversations with anyone nearby, downing several glasses of beer amid bursts of laughter, and even indulging Nobara — now nearly drunk — by joining her on the dance floor. Yet no matter how hard he tried, his eyes kept drifting back to him.
Fushiguro Megumi seemed unfazed, just as he had the first time Yuji saw him. That evening, however, gave Yuji a closer look — a chance to study his expressionless face, the subtle lines and contours he had never really noticed before.
The black sweatshirt he wore was slightly loose but still suited him, emphasizing his broad shoulders. His hair — no longer damp as Yuji remembered — was styled upward, likely with a touch of gel. There was a simplicity to him, yet Yuji found it nearly impossible to look away.
He noticed everything, even the smallest, seemingly meaningless details. All evening, Fushiguro drank quietly, barely spoke to Maki or Yuta, and kept his phone in hand. No one paid him much attention, nor did he seem to seek any. And somehow, that made him all the more impossible to ignore.
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 happened only once — after Yuji had downed a vivid blue drink on a bet with Maki. Their eyes met across the table.
Yuji was still laughing at something someone had said, though he couldn’t remember what. His head felt foggy, everything around him hazy, but that gaze cut through it all. For a brief moment, the room sharpened, and Yuji felt rooted, his heart hammering in his chest.
Fushiguro was the first to leave that evening, and at first, Yuji didn’t even notice — too many glasses of beer had blurred his focus. But when it finally registered, a wave of relief washed over him.
And gradually, the night regained its rhythm. Conversations, laughter, drinks, dancing — everything felt effortless again, as if nothing had ever disturbed the flow.It was like the evening had returned to the way it should have been, before that guy had entered his life.
After that night, Yuji slowly began to regain a sense of control. He knew Fushiguro was inevitably someone closer than he had imagined, but deep down, it wasn’t really a cause for worry.
Months had passed since they first met in May, and the guy didn’t seem to remember much — if at all — beyond some vague feeling — probably the pink hair, Yuji thought wryly.
On top of that, he didn’t seem like the type to enjoy big gatherings, nor did he appear to care much about Yuji or anyone else. They probably wouldn’t meet again, and Yuji could just make sure of that if he wanted.
So, logically, there was no reason to torment himself over it.
More than that, it was the return to his usual routine that finally brought him a sense of calm. For the following days, he could reclaim a little peace — at least on this front.
But, of course, the relief didn’t last long.
Because, a few weeks later, Fushiguro Megumi reappeared — completely unexpected and entirely out of the blue — like the persistent curse he seemed to be slowly becoming.
It was early October, and Nobara had invited Yuji to her dorm room, which she now shared with Maki. They had become roommates after Nobara's previous one had left — unable to tolerate her fiery temperament and constant complaints for even two months.
Yuji wasn’t surprised; few people could endure her, let alone live with her. But Maki Zenin had somehow managed it.
Her perpetually tied-up green hair, sharp and resolute gaze, and unshakable strength of character had clearly won Nobara over — along with her charisma, her physique, her confidence, her friendliness, and countless other qualities that Nobara had rattled off, most of which Yuji couldn’t even remember.
Maki had proven to be an excellent roommate and a model student. Despite being a year older, she had fallen behind in a few exams due to her professional boxing training. Yet, she always managed to keep up — often outperforming those without any extracurricular commitments.
Since she and Nobara had started dating, it had become a habit for Yuji to tag along on their outings. The three of them got along surprisingly well — though the fact that Nobara frequently forced Yuji to leave so she could have alone time with her girlfriend was a separate matter entirely.
So, it wasn’t really unusual for Yuji to be summoned to their dorm that Thursday night. Expecting the usual routine — a movie and some Chinese takeout — he didn’t mind showing up in his casual home clothes, his hair still slightly damp from the shower after basketball practice.
He was exhausted and craving a nap, but he hesitated to decline the girls’ invitation. Lately, their schedules had made it hard to meet, so any chance to hang out was worth taking.
Still, if the chosen film for the night turned out to be boring enough, it would give him the perfect excuse for a quick snooze. Inevitably, though, Nobara would wake him up with a well-aimed foot and kick him out — something that usually happened on the nights he was truly dead tired, so it wouldn’t exactly come as a surprise.
Falling asleep was always easier when he wasn’t alone. Hearing their voices in the background somehow kept his thoughts at bay — the same ones that always crept in when he tried to sleep by himself, in the silence and stillness he couldn’t stand.
But his world crumbled the moment he spotted an unexpected presence lounging on Maki’s bed — in his usual spot — a book open in his hands, completely absorbed in its pages.
Yuji's heart skipped a beat, and his fingers froze on the doorknob.
There Fushiguro Megumi was, once again, right in front of him — as if he had simply materialized out of nowhere.
And for some reason, Yuji felt betrayed — so incredibly betrayed.
Because that was his spot. That was his space. That was his life. And yet, that damn guy kept showing up everywhere, like he belonged there.
Itadori Yuji had never really cared about things like that before, but the reappearance of that boy — slowly encroaching on spaces that had always been his — stirred something within him. He couldn’t stand it. Just like he couldn’t stand how his own gaze kept drifting back to him, as if he’d recognize him anywhere now without even trying.
Fushiguro was too absorbed in his book to notice Yuji lingering by the doorway. And for the first time, that familiar cold, annoyed expression was gone. What replaced it unsettled Yuji even more.
Because there was a softness in Fushiguro’s features now — a quiet calm where Yuji had only ever seen coldness. It threw him off, left him disoriented, almost dazed. His fingers twitched slightly, caught off guard.
Yuji felt his balance slip again — body, mind, everything.
And all he wanted, in that moment, was to close the door and leave. To turn around and run, as fast as he could.
«Finally! We were just about to order food. We’re literally starving because of you. Do you even realize it’s past nine?»
Nobara greeted him with clear irritation, but Yuji barely registered her words. Forcing himself to focus on her and ignore Fushiguro in the background — who, in the meantime, had lifted his head from the book — he offered a sheepish smile, the same one he always wore when he knew he was in the wrong.
«Yeah, sorry! We finished pretty late, so I couldn’t get here any earlier.»
He tried — really tried — to sound normal, keeping his eyes fixed on Nobara, even though he could feel it — Fushiguro’s gaze, steady on him from across the room.
«Hey, Yuji! Long time no see, man. You look terrible, though»
Maki greeted him with a wide grin, looping an arm casually around Nobara’s waist as they stood by the open door. Yuji didn’t need a mirror to believe her — he knew she was right. He felt like a complete mess — and now Fushiguro Megumi’s presence only made things worse.
«She’s right. You do look awful. Check out those eyebags.»
His best friend didn’t spare him the reminder that he hadn’t really slept lately — that he was, in fact, in desperate need of rest.
«You could compete with the night owl over there. Legends say he spends his nights studying and no one’s ever actually seen him sleep. That’s why he’s always so gloomy», Nobara teased, glancing over at Fushiguro, who had already gone back to his book.
Yuji caught his faint, annoyed sigh and tensed instinctively.
«Judging from your four failed attempts at passing a single exam, you might want to take notes», Fushiguro muttered, sarcasm dripping from his tone, only managing to irritate the girl further.
She didn’t miss the chance to snap back, growing increasingly heated — especially since he didn’t even spare her a glance, eyes still fixed on the page.
«Ah, my cousin’s tagging along too. Let’s just say he needed a... quiet place to stay for tonight. Hope you don’t mind.»
Maki chuckled, stepping aside to let Yuji in. He forced a smile as he slipped past her, closing the door behind him.
But, if he was being honest, he did mind.
He really wanted to ask why Megumi had to be here of all places — couldn’t he stay in his dorm? But maybe he was stuck with someone loud, and he definitely gave off the vibe of someone who couldn’t stand having people around.
Still, Yuji felt a strange uneasiness as he set his basketball bag by the entrance.
Fushiguro cast a brief glance at his cousin, still ignoring Nobara as she rambled on about how that exam was actually difficult and how he was just a stupid bookworm anyway.
«Quiet? Oh, definitely.»
Maki chuckled, seemingly used to his sharp remarks by now.
It was clear they knew each other well — in the way she addressed him after it, in the way he huffed without any real disdain. More than anything, the three of them seemed comfortable enough to speak however they wanted, unconcerned with how it might come across.
It felt odd.
For the very first time, Yuji felt like an outsider in a place where he had always belonged.
For a fleeting moment, his mind raced — he considered making up an excuse to leave, pretending to feel unwell, anything to call it a night. The truth was, he couldn’t stay calm when that guy was around.
Uncertainty lingered, and all Yuji craved was stability. He disliked the unexpected — he had always preferred having things under control. But that guy disrupted everything, made it impossible to predict his next move or even understand what he was thinking.
Still, as much as he wanted to leave, putting his own feelings before others’ didn’t come easily to him.
Itadori Yuji didn’t really care.
If he had to set his own feelings aside for someone else, it didn’t matter. If he had to face his problems alone just to help others with theirs, it didn’t matter. And if, in the end, he ended up worse off, it mattered even less.
Because Itadori Yuji had never really cared about himself.
He had never questioned too much the reasons that pushed him to always put others’ well-being above his own. He was fine with it — and often, their well-being coincided with his, so it was really fine.
Yuji was happy like this.
So, 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, Fushiguro! It’s good to see you again, man!»
He was getting better at hiding what he truly felt — because, of course, things weren’t good in the slightest.
In the end, about twenty minutes later, their Chinese order arrived, and the four of them gathered around the usual low table, sitting on the floor. And of course, Yuji found himself seated next to Fushiguro, who had reluctantly closed his book after his cousin called him over for the third time.
«Come on, nerd! I ordered for you too! Studying this much is going to make your head explode sooner or later», she teased, giving him a firm pat on the back as he sat down between her and Yuji. Fushiguro let out an irritated sigh.
«I wish it would actually explode. I wouldn’t mind.»
There was the usual dry irony in his tone, but Yuji caught something else beneath it — something faint, something off. Still, he chose to ignore it.
As Maki complained about Fushiguro being too busy with his studies to come watch her boxing matches, Yuji couldn’t quite focus on her words.
Instead, he found it almost difficult to pull his attention away from the guy to his left.
There was something about him that didn’t sit right. An unease lingered — a sense of something deeper beneath that slightly dull gaze and the faintly bored expression he wore.
His jaw tightened just a little, almost involuntarily, just like it had on that bench, that day in May.
He was bothered. Maybe impatient. It didn’t last long, and Yuji couldn’t process it in time.
He forced himself to rejoin the conversation, to finish his dumplings, but his gaze kept drifting back to the other — often finding him quietly eating, seemingly untouched by everything around him.
He seemed tired — almost exhausted. And Yuji couldn’t understand how, even in those conditions, that guy still managed to hold his attention.
His complexion lacked any real brightness, faint dark circles shadowed his eyes, and the plain black hoodie he wore looked more like something meant for sleep than anything else.
There was no real reason for that irrational urge to keep watching him. Yet Yuji nearly choked on his drink when the thought hit him — maybe he couldn’t help it because he found that guy intriguing. In some absurd, inexplicable way.
His heart leapt into his throat, then dropped back into his chest with an almost audible thud. Yuji froze, completely caught off guard. A new wave of unease washed over him. If that were really the case, then maybe he was going crazy.
Because there was nothing interesting about that guy — nothing special, nothing worth his attention. If anything, he should have stayed away. The emotions he picked up from him were a tangled mess, leaning heavily toward something negative. Yuji couldn’t make sense of him — couldn’t understand him at all.
Fushiguro Megumi was an unsolvable problem of a person.
And when faced with a problem, Yuji’s instinct was always the same — to avoid it, to pretend it didn’t exist, to simply run away. He was far too familiar with that.
So he had to steer clear of Fushiguro, hoping he wouldn’t remember anything from that day. After all, it shouldn’t have been that difficult. The last time they met, they had barely interacted — just a few polite, meaningless words. They had nothing in common, aside from Maki and Nobara. They were, for all intents and purposes, strangers.
But when the other’s icy gaze suddenly landed on him, Yuji nearly flinched. He hadn’t even realized he’d been staring.
«Uh... You want it?»
Fushiguro’s voice held a hint of confusion as he gestured with his chopsticks a dumpling still held between them. Yuji blinked, brows furrowing, not quite understanding what he meant.
Fushiguro frowned slightly, looking even more 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 it hit him. Yuji was a complete idiot.
He chuckled, a little embarrassed.
«Ah, you caught me! It’s just that practice really wore me out, and I’m starving... If you don’t want it, I’ll gladly eat it!»
Yuji wasn’t lying completely — his stomach was growling — but it wasn’t the real reason he had been staring at Fushiguro. Of course, that was something the other didn’t need to know.
Fushiguro’s brow furrowed slightly, and he set the dumpling down on the plate in front of Yuji.
«Practice?», he asked.
And Yuji blinked, caught off guard. He hadn’t expected a question — especially one that hinted at actual conversation, considering Fushiguro didn’t seem to enjoy his presence. Yet those blue eyes stayed locked on him, silently waiting for a response.
Yuji took a steadying breath, skewered the dumpling handed to him, and tried to act natural.
It felt strange — definitely strange.
«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 as he continued eating. Fushiguro noticed the sparkle in his eyes — even to someone who didn’t know Yuji at all, it was clear how much he loved playing.
«Intercollege, as in the "All Japan Intercollegiate Basketball Championship"?»
Yuji’s eyes widened at the words. He hadn’t expected Fushiguro to know so much about basketball, and the realization startled him, just a little. His excitement bubbled over before he could fully process it.
«Yeah, that’s the one! It’s one of the biggest national tournaments ever! We’ve been training so hard to make it through the regionals, and luckily last month we managed to beat Osaka University — one of the strongest teams this year!»
Fushiguro raised an eyebrow at the energy radiating from him. Yuji’s eyes were wide, bright, and animated, the brown there almost glowing with enthusiasm.
It was at that moment that Fushiguro remembered.
«You were the one who scored that last winning shot in the game, weren’t you? I remember you. That was impressive.»
Yuji froze, completely caught off guard.
He had expected a lot of things, really, but not Fushiguro Megumi — of all people — complimenting him.
For some absurd, inexplicable reason, his heart started pounding in his chest. He swallowed, almost reluctantly, but it wasn’t fear or the familiar discomfort he usually felt around that boy. No — this was something else entirely.
Excitement. Satisfaction. A surge of adrenaline coursed through him.
Perhaps it was because he knew Fushiguro’s words were genuine and straightforward — he could sense it from the very first moment they had spoken.
The fact that it was that boy giving him the compliment filled Yuji with pride. He couldn’t explain it, but a wide grin spread across his face.
More than that, it finally explained why Fushiguro had said, back at Nobara’s party, that he’d probably seen him before.
He remembered him from the game.
Of course! Yuji always tended to forget that their matches were watched by plenty of people on campus, and that his name was, in some way, fairly well known around the university.
What a fool.
He felt like an idiot for worrying about it this much in the first place. But the realization, somehow, eased every tense nerve in his body. His smile widened even more.
«Yeah, it was me! Hold up... Were you actually there? No way! You watched the game?»
«Yeah. Maki forced me.»
Fushiguro said it in a flat, neutral tone, and Yuji couldn’t help but chuckle against his own will — his body acting on its own, ignoring all the negative thoughts his brain had tried to convince him of about the guy until now.
«What's so funny now?»
Yuji shook his head, laughing even harder.
«It’s just... You said the same thing at the party. It’s always her forcing you? It’s hilarious!»
Fushiguro’s brow furrowed, one eyebrow raised, a frown now forming on his annoyed face.
«It's really not. That girl is a pain in the ass. Stop laughing, idiot.»
Yuji didn’t even realize it — but here he was, laughing wholeheartedly, all because of the same guy who had completely shattered the mental stability he’d been clinging to. It felt effortless, almost absurd.
Maybe the training had drained him mentally, or maybe he was just hungry and scatterbrained — but none of that mattered. Not like it had a few minutes ago, when he was staring at Fushiguro and silently wondering if the universe hated him.
He couldn’t stop laughing. And the look Fushiguro gave him? Priceless.
Now, with that irritated — and maybe even slightly embarrassed — expression in front of him, Fushiguro didn’t seem so cold anymore. His expression wasn’t as stern. Yuji smiled at him almost unconsciously, and the sense of relief that washed over him felt like finally taking a deep breath after holding it for far too long — it took so little.
Suddenly, Fushiguro Megumi’s presence didn’t feel so bad anymore.
Riding that unexpected ease, Yuji decided to give his mind a break for the evening. He let himself indulge in laughter and popcorn, sinking into his usual spot as they arranged the beds of the two girls together, placing Nobara’s laptop at the foot of the mattresses to watch a movie.
As expected — especially from Maki — Fushiguro didn’t join them. Instead, he returned to his studies, sitting on the floor at the small round table where they’d eaten dinner just moments before.
Yuji felt a small twinge of disappointment, though he couldn’t quite explain why. As Fushiguro resumed his work, the others started the not-so-recent comedy, one that had Maki crying with laughter and Nobara wrinkling her nose — she rarely appreciated that genre, but it was agreed that each movie night would rotate picks so everyone got a turn.
Yuji slouched into Maki’s soft pillow, laughing freely at the film’s silliest jokes — so freely, in fact, that Nobara scolded him more than three times in the first twenty minutes.
But it was when Fushiguro turned a page that Yuji’s gaze landed on him. The movement went unnoticed by the girls, now curled up together and absorbed in the movie, yet Yuji couldn’t help being distracted by the careful, deliberate way the other’s hand flipped the page.
He found himself watching, convincing himself it was only because Fushiguro happened to be just a few steps from the foot of the bed, almost directly in his line of sight — the laptop suddenly felt like an obstruction, blocking his view.
That boy seemed completely unfazed by the laughter or the background noise of the movie. His attention stayed fixed on the book. Yuji noticed the pencil in his hand, jotting occasional notes in the margins, lips moving silently as he read.
When he turned another page, Yuji tried to refocus on the screen, but the plot now felt foreign — his thoughts had wandered too far. Swearing softly under his breath, Yuji found himself glancing back at Fushiguro again, unable to resist.
Yuji watched the subtle reactions as he struggled to grasp something — a slight scrunch of the nose, a furrowed brow. He’d pause, stare at a point, jot down notes, then gradually relax and continue.
It was oddly amusing, and Yuji couldn’t help feeling the strangeness of it all. Why did that guy suddenly seem so much less intimidating? Even with the lingering tension and memories from that May day, something felt undeniably different now.
Maybe Yuji had misjudged him. Because looking at him now, he couldn’t quite reconcile the boy scrunching his nose over a book with the one who had stared at him with such coldness through the bus window when they first met.
Yuji didn’t know what to think, yet there was something in those small shifts of expression that captivated him, soothing him enough that fatigue eventually claimed his eyelids.
He drifted off without fully realizing it — until a gentle nudge stirred him awake. Glancing around, he quickly recognized the girls’ room — and immediately noticed Nobara’s foot resting squarely on his face.
«Oh, look who decided to rejoin the land of the living: the Sleeping Beauty», she teased, and Yuji grumbled an indistinguishable «Just five more minutes» before she nudged him again with her foot, this time a little harder.
«It's well past midnight. You should head back to the dorm and get a proper night’s sleep in your own bed, idiot. The nerd will give you a ride. Come on, rise and shine!»
At first, Yuji didn’t fully register her words. It took him a few seconds to sit up, squinting against the overly bright room and still tangled in post-wakeup haze.
But his gaze immediately found Fushiguro, busy adjusting his backpack stuffed with books. Yuji blinked at him.
«Huh? What? A ride? You have a car?»
He rubbed his face to clear the last traces of sleep, his voice still hoarse from being woken so abruptly.
Before Fushiguro could answer, Maki rested a hand affectionately on his cousin’s shoulder, and it felt intentional, somehow, for some reason.
«Actually, it’s uncle Toji’s car, but since he’s rarely in town for work, it’s practically become Fushiguro’s», she said with a smirk.
«Your dorm is on the way, so I asked him to give you a lift. You look beat tonight.»
Yuji chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck, nodding.
«Yeah, my legs are still sore from all the running. Let’s not talk about it, please... Anyways, thanks for the ride, Fushiguro. I owe you one, man.»
Yuji forced himself to stand, bowing slightly to the other. 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. He couldn’t tell whether the strange flutter in his stomach was from the sudden awakening or from the presence of the boy next to him — the one he had convinced himself he feared more than anything.
As they stepped outside, a blast of cold air hit them, and Yuji huddled deeper into his hoodie. Fushiguro glanced at him.
«Aren’t you cold in just that hoodie?»
Yuji nearly jumped at the question, letting out a small chuckle as he shifted the basketball bag on his shoulder.
«Yeah... a little», he admitted. «I didn’t stop by my dorm because I didn’t want to be too late. Training got pushed back this week, and grabbing a jacket didn’t feel worth it.»
Fushiguro frowned.
«If I hadn’t shown up, you would’ve walked back like this?»
Yuji felt scolded, almost like a kid — and maybe that’s exactly why it was so strange. He hadn’t really thought about how he’d make it back in the cold, or how annoying it was to rely on public transportation just to get between dorms. He shrugged.
«I’d have just asked Nobara for a jacket. I’ve got a couple of mine in her closet I always forget about. It’s no big deal, really», he said, forcing a light laugh.
But the other huffed, clearly annoyed.
«That’s nonsense. Don’t do it again. You could catch a cold, especially after training. Idiot.»
Yuji froze for a moment, warmth rushing to his face before he even noticed, his eyes widening.
There was nothing unusual about the advice — even Nobara said the same thing constantly — but somehow, if it came from Fushiguro, it hit differently. He didn’t understand why every little gesture from that guy stirred him so deeply. Ignoring the constant twist in his stomach was becoming nearly impossible.
He swallowed and nodded slightly, unable to find the words to respond.
Shortly after, they reached the car and Yuji couldn’t think of anything to say, hyper-aware of every movement, every word. He almost wished he could go back to when he’d simply watched Fushiguro’s face while he studied, with no thoughts or distractions in his mind.
He leaned back against the passenger seat as a soft pop song drifted from the speakers, the night outside broken only by the glow of streetlights and passing cars. The warmth of the heater mingled with a subtle, comforting scent, and the gentle sway of the vehicle lulled Yuji into a quiet, almost soothing sleep — even more peaceful than the one he’d had on Maki’s bed.
When Fushiguro pulled up at the entrance of the dorm, Yuji remained asleep — and despite Fushiguro's attempts to wake him, he didn’t stir at all, utterly exhausted against the seat.
Fushiguro let out a quiet sigh, and with the warm light of the car illuminating Yuji’s features up close, he noticed the freckles — subtle, almost invisible to anyone not paying attention — scattered across his nose and cheeks.
His expression was serene, a gentle calm settling over him that Fushiguro hadn’t seen before, a quiet contrast to the lively energy he’d shown earlier.
Fushiguro didn’t feel like waking him.
Perhaps it was out of consideration for Yuji’s exhaustion, or maybe — in a more self-centered way — 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 warm the cabin, reaching for his backpack in the back seat. Pulling out his book and pencil, he returned to studying without another word.
The car was filled only with the steady rhythm of Yuji’s breathing, and yet Fushiguro found an unexpected comfort in the silence. Occasionally, Yuji stirred or murmured something unintelligible, but it didn’t disturb him.
As Fushiguro kept scribbling notes in the margins — underlining keywords, condensing paragraphs into brief summaries — a soft yawn pulled his attention away. Glancing over, he saw Yuji rubbing his eyes, finally starting to wake.
«Fuck, I need to pee... Uh? Ah, Fushiguro... I fell asleep again. Sorry», he muttered, voice hoarse, still half-asleep.
«I tried to wake you, but you looked exhausted, so I let you sleep a bit longer», he said absentmindedly, once again too focused on his book to notice Yuji’s reaction as his gaze dropped to the dashboard.
«It’s two in the morning», Yuji murmured, almost in disbelief.
Fushiguro glanced briefly at the time. He hadn’t even noticed — though, unlike Yuji, it didn’t seem to bother him much.
«Oh. I didn’t check. Sorry. We’re here anyway — you can go.»
Only then did he properly look at him. Yuji’s expression had shifted, his eyes wide, something like disbelief flickering across his face.
«Why...», he hesitated, still trying to process it. «Why did you let me sleep for so long?»
Fushiguro frowned slightly, not quite understanding why he seemed so shaken.
«I already told you. You looked tired. I just used the time to study, so it’s not—»
He stopped mid-sentence.
Even with only the dim light of the car, he caught it — that faint glimmer in Yuji’s eyes, if only for a brief instant. Something in his expression shifted, like a weight had suddenly settled on his shoulders without warning.
It felt almost imperceptible, but Fushiguro noticed it anyway.
Yuji felt overwhelmed.
His heart pounded loudly in his chest. The quiet, unexpected kindness caught him completely off guard, leaving him unsure of what to do with it.
He didn’t know how to handle it.
It wasn’t something he had ever expected from the Fushiguro Megumi he had built in his mind all this time. In Yuji’s eyes, it simply didn’t make sense. Why did his kindness affect him so much?
It felt almost ridiculous, and yet his heart was lodged in his throat. He didn’t feel deserving of that kind of care or attention, and it left him exposed, vulnerable.
The guilt churned in his stomach, making him nauseous. Maybe that was what unsettled 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, man.»
Yuji spoke with an uncomfortable lump in his throat, not even daring to look at him, afraid he might break down — it had happened once before, and he wouldn’t let it happen again, not over something so small.
He was almost hyperventilating — he only realized it when the cold air outside the car felt relieving rather than uncomfortable, a stark contrast to the warmth inside.
He was about to close the door and leave in a hurry, not giving the other any chance to speak, but then Fushiguro called his name — and his voice sounded different, softer than its usual flat tone.
Yuji felt his knees weaken. He couldn’t move.
«Itadori—»
Fushiguro started, only to falter, unsure of what to say next.
Yuji took a deep breath before the other could find the words. He turned back, forcing a smile, hoping — desperately — that Fushiguro would believe it. Once again, he found himself reacting foolishly over something stupid, and he hated himself for it.
«Sorry, Fushiguro. I just feel guilty. I’ll make it up to you somehow. Thanks again... Goodnight!»
He rushed through the words, but his heart sank when he caught the look on the other’s face.
Fushiguro was watching him with an expression Yuji had never seen before. There was something like concern in it, and Yuji’s smile almost faltered.
His brows were slightly drawn, lips parted, and the blue of his eyes seemed softer somehow — almost melted, nothing like the usual coldness Yuji had come to expect. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, and Yuji couldn’t quite grasp it no matter how hard he tried.
His heart pounded loudly in his ears. His chest felt tight. He swallowed, guilt rising once again.
Fushiguro didn’t say anything at first, but then he gave a small nod, and Yuji felt like he could finally breathe again.
«It’s okay, really. You don’t need to do anything... Night.»
His voice was still flat, unchanged on the surface — yet Yuji caught another faint shift beneath it. It passed too quickly for him to understand, but somehow, those words warmed his chest.
Yuji smiled again, this time a little less forced, and Fushiguro gave a small wave before setting his book aside and placing his hands back on the wheel.
He stood there, watching as the car disappeared into the darkness, another wave of cold air washing over him.
Something felt off.
Something inside him wasn’t quite right.
Small, insignificant details had never really mattered to Itadori Yuji — and yet, for some reason, he could recall every tiny thing about that guy.
From the cold gaze during their first encounter at the bus stop, to the composed figure on the couch at Nobara’s party, and he knew he’d remember this too — the way his expression softened with concern, the ice in his eyes melting.
It had started abruptly, then slowly became something constant. The sudden intrusion of that guy into his life had crossed a line that was meant to keep everything out.
And now, with someone slipping past the protective walls he had built around himself, Yuji felt completely defenseless.
Just a few months had been enough to disrupt the fragile balance of his already unstable world. It had taken so little.
That was how Fushiguro Megumi dismantled it all — piece by piece. Every belief, every certainty, every defense — all reduced to fragments, leaving Yuji lost in the wreckage, adrift among the broken pieces of himself.