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Fushiguro Megumi can’t stand good people. They forgive bad people no matter the crime and view it as a noble act.
The way he sees it, this act of forgiveness is nothing but an insult to those who have suffered under the hand of what he considers to be a “bad person.” For a victim, they may be losing their whole world. For another person, it’s just a story. Who is that person to forgive another despite not feeling the effects of the latter’s actions?
He finds himself thinking of these things more frequently after Tsumiki’s death. He wonders if she would have forgiven Yorozu for her actions had Yorozu asked. It hurts to know that it wouldn’t have been impossible for Tsumiki to do so. Did she truly view her own life and individuality so lowly that she could have it in her to forgive the demon that took those precious things from her?
Tsumiki is a “good person.” While Megumi doesn’t hate her, he hates her mindset. He can’t stand her willingness to hand out second chances like they don’t mean anything. Human beings as a whole can’t change, not fully. They can swear it up and down and convince themselves that they’re different, but the consequences of their previous actions don’t change with them.
A murderer can leave prison and not kill for the rest of their life, but the person they killed is still dead. That will never change.
“A dog that weeps after it kills is no better than the dog that doesn’t.”
Megumi is unsure where Itadori Yuuji falls in his line of “good” versus “bad.” Itadori isn’t a bad person by any means, but Megumi wouldn’t exactly place him in the same category as Tsumiki. The likelihood of him forgiving Sukuna appears to be much slimmer than the likelihood of Tsumiki forgiving Yorozu, and that fact alone separates them greatly.
“If Sukuna asked you to forgive him, would you?” Megumi asked one day after they had finished sparring.
After gulping down his bottle of water, Itadori looked him in the eyes, confusion clear through his brows. “What? Why’re you asking me that?”
“Just answer.”
Itadori looked to the side, tapping his chin in thought. “Well, for one, Sukuna would never ask for forgiveness. But… I guess if he did, I don’t think I would forgive him.”
Megumi’s eyebrows furrowed. “You wouldn’t?” he inquired.
“Nah, I wouldn’t,” Itadori said with a shrug. “Sure, I feel bad for him, but he’s done some pretty horrible things.”
“How can you feel bad for him?”
“Well, it’s not like I feel bad for him in the way that makes anything he did justifiable. I feel bad for him because he doesn’t see value in life,” Itadori explained. “The idea that someone can’t see the beauty in things, even things as simple as a moment like this, just kinda makes me sad.”
That conversation had Megumi thinking for a while. Itadori’s philosophy on life made sense, but it greatly contrasted with Megumi’s own perspective. For Megumi, it was black-and-white. A person can either commit hurtful actions or be the one to forgive those hurtful actions. Itadori, without intending to, fought against that ideology. He understands the “why” of a bad action, but he doesn’t use that knowledge to forgive them.
It confuses Megumi in a multitude of ways. He recognizes why Itadori might feel pity for someone like Sukuna, especially considering Itadori’s reasoning, and in some aspects, he might even agree. Life, in many ways, can be beautiful. In other aspects, however, he struggles to agree, because life isn’t always charming in the way Itadori sees it. Human beings can be selfish and greedy, completely disregarding anyone that isn’t themselves. What’s beautiful about that?
This thought often brings Megumi to another conversation he had with Itadori. He can’t remember the exact context, but he remembers asking how Itadori can see beauty in a world plagued by so much evil.
“Now that I think about it, I don’t think beautiful is a good way to describe life,” Itadori had answered, thinking. “Beautiful implies that everything is something good, and I don’t think that’s true. Valuable? Purposeful? I don’t know. I haven’t given this too much thought, you know?”
Megumi vaguely remembers a pause before Itadori continued. “I can’t think of a good word. Anyways, for me, I think evil isn’t really something you can get rid of. That doesn’t mean life is any less valuable, right?”
Megumi finds himself remembering the interaction with the woman after the detention center. She cried after being handed what remained of her son. The man might have been deemed evil by others, but that woman grieved the loss of his life. Despite everything, the inmate’s life and the choices he made may influence the things the woman (and maybe others) would go on to do. Perhaps that was what Itadori meant.
–
It’s nights like these where Megumi would much rather be cooped up in the darkness of his room, isolating himself from all of his peers.
The stars were much more visible tonight, the constellations easy to point out. The constellations Tsumiki used to show him. On occasion, Gojo would take them somewhere where the light wouldn’t drown out the skies. That thought was just another bitter pill Megumi had to swallow, and he really didn’t want to think about it.
Both of them were now dead, and there was nothing he could do about it.
Instead of being in his room, like he would have preferred, he was stuck completing a mission with Itadori and Kugisaki somewhere in Hakone. It’s not that he disliked either of the two he was accompanied by. Actually, he appreciated them greatly. Being alone, however, would have definitely been preferable.
The curse they were after had been exorcised a few minutes ago, likely thanks to the other two Megumi was with. He knew he definitely wasn’t focused enough to have contributed too much to this mission. On any other night, he would have beaten himself up over it. Tonight, however, he was far too busy trying to avoid the night sky to even think about his faults.
Tonight, he was left wondering whether there was something he could do to prevent Tsukimi’s death or if she was just destined to die to begin with.
Tonight, the stars mocked him.
He and Itadori sat on a bench outside a small shop that Kugisaki had entered to use their restroom. She was taking far too much time for Megumi’s liking. Far too much time spent thinking about his sister. God, could she get out of his head for one second?
He wasn’t sure exactly what kind of expression he was making, but his thoughts must have been noticeable enough for Itadori to point it out.
“Hey, Fushiguro, you okay?” Itadori asked, leaning forward to get a better look at Megumi’s face.
“I’m fine.”
“You sure? You’ve been out of it, like, all night,” Itadori said, brows furrowing.
Itadori’s pushing wasn’t doing much to ease Megumi’s nerves. “I said I’m fine. Quit asking,” his tone ended up being harsher than intended, but Itadori didn’t seem to mind.
“Come on, man, I know you better than that,” Itadori said. “You don’t have to tell me everything, but lying won’t do you any good.”
Megumi sighed, allowing a stretch of silence between them before speaking. “It’s about Tsumiki. She knew a lot about stars and would always point them out to me.”
Itadori looked at the sky, perplexed. He must’ve noticed how visible the stars were tonight, because a look of realization flooded over his face. “Oh,” Itadori paused. “Why avoid looking at the sky, then?”
Megumi put very little effort into hiding the scowl forming on his face. “What?”
“Well, the way I see it, it’s proof that she’ll always be with you,” Itadori explained, staring up at the sky. “You can think of it as a way to remember the good times you had.”
Megumi felt his scowl softening. Itadori continued. “For example, I like to play music my gramps used to listen to. It’s a way I can honor him and keep him in my heart.”
There was a pause as Itadori thought for a moment. “I think if you curse the things that remind you of her, it’ll stain her memory. You’ll start to think of her as a negative thing that causes you pain rather than someone who brought you joy.”
Megumi stared, slightly wide-eyed, at Itadori. “I understand,” he said softly. Itadori had a small, easy smile on his face, like he hadn’t just flipped Megumi’s entire perspective on death completely.
It was like Itadori had some kind of power in which he knew exactly what words to say to fix Megumi’s problems. Even if it were just a simple “Fushiguro, it’s okay,” it would be enough to wipe away any unease Megumi had before. Even if they were in a life-or-death situation, Megumi was sure Itadori would find a way to bring him calm.
Maybe it was just the way Itadori saw things. He believed that everything in life had a purpose, and therefore, everything in life had value. It made life feel lighter, like no matter what, Megumi would always be something. He was almost envious of that mindset. Actually, he is envious of that mindset. He wished he could see himself in the way that Itadori does.
Megumi couldn’t help the flutter in his stomach as he glanced at Itadori’s content expression. He couldn’t help but feel the same when he was near.
The stabbing pain of grief that usually latched onto Megumi on nights like these was replaced with a softer, more bittersweet feeling of melancholy.
The train ride back to Tokyo wasn’t quiet by any means. Megumi was fine with that.
–
Watching the stars became something that Megumi would frequently find himself doing. On days he missed Tsumiki a little extra, he would wander outside and sit on one of the small ‘porches’ scattered around the dormitories. Sometimes, he would point out constellations she liked and ask her a question in his head. He would never get a response, but it still felt like she was there.
Sometimes it hurts. He would look over, expecting to see his older sister smiling gently at the sky like it was something precious and see space where she should’ve been. Sometimes it hurt too much, and he would have to go inside. It wasn’t like before, though, where he would curse the sky. He had Itadori to thank for that.
He wondered how he could ever curse the thing Tsumiki loved so much. It was nice, really, to just look at the sky, and he found thinking of his older sister brought him less pain than it used to. Just doing things that Tsumiki loved made her feel closer. Megumi felt that, when he did these things, he felt connected to her.
He was curious if Itadori felt the same way when he listened to the music his grandfather listened to. Megumi wondered if it felt like he was connecting with his grandfather or if it was a different feeling. Perhaps partaking in the activities his grandfather used to enjoy helped Itadori to remember what a happy life they had. Maybe the music brought back positive memories they shared. Itadori was such a bright and positive person, so that wouldn’t be much of a surprise.
Soon enough, Megumi’s thoughts were flooded with Itadori. How does Itadori mourn his grandfather? What about Nanami or Gojo? Is Itadori awake right now? I wonder what Itadori is thinking about right now. Itadori looked a lot happier today. I’m glad.
Itadori, Itadori, Itadori, Itadori…
Megumi couldn’t help the stutter of his heartbeat and the warmth in his chest whenever he thought of Itadori. It was worse when he actually saw him. Every time Itadori flashed one of his warm grins at Megumi, he couldn’t help but want to grip onto the moment and never let go. Every time Itadori started to talk, whether it be something that flips Megumi’s entire world around or the dumbest thing Megumi’s ever heard, Megumi wanted to listen to him talk forever. Every time they bickered, Megumi wondered how he could ever live without Itadori.
Megumi wondered how he could ever live without Itadori.
The thought came like second nature and lingered. In fact, it never left. How could he ever live without Itadori? Would he be able to? Would he physically be able to last in a world without that coral-pink hair and those honey-brown eyes that always looked at him with warmth?
He didn’t think he could, honestly. It was such a pathetic answer. Megumi could try to deny it all he wants, but he would know it’s anything but the truth. He’d come to rely on Itadori. If he was having a problem, he asked Itadori about it. If a mission was starting to stress Megumi out, Itadori could reassure him with just two words.
It wasn’t even just that. Megumi had grown attached to Itadori. Itadori had been with him through thick and thin. When Sukuna had taken over Megumi’s body, Megumi had given up. Itadori didn’t. Megumi knew Itadori blamed himself for everything that happened, but instead of wallowing in self-pity, he stood up and did everything he could to bring Megumi back. It was a kind of dedication Megumi hadn’t known before that moment.
Itadori had watched Megumi fall apart and sink deeper into the hole of brokenness he had created, but he’d never left. Instead, Itadori worked harder to reach the depths Megumi put himself in just to pull him out. The care in those actions made Megumi feel warm.
It was hard not to feel the way he did towards Itadori, even if he couldn’t place what feeling that was just yet.
“Fushiguro? What’re you doing here?”
Megumi froze, trying desperately to calm his now rapidly beating heart.
He cleared his throat, forcing his tone to be as calm as he could muster. “I wanted to watch the sky.”
“Oh, I see. Couldn’t sleep?” Itadori asked, stepping onto the porch and sliding the door shut behind him.
“Something like that,” Megumi replied.
“Me neither,” Itadori said. A beat of silence followed. “Mind if I join you?”
Megumi glanced back slightly. “No.”
Itadori smiled, shuffling over to where Megumi was sitting and plopping down right next to him. They were silent for a while, both just staring at the sky. It wasn’t necessarily awkward, but there was definitely something unsaid between them. At least, there was for Megumi.
“Why can’t you sleep?” Itadori inquired, still staring at the sky above.
Megumi took his time answering. “I missed Tsumiki,” he admitted quietly.
“Oh,” Itadori responded. “I’m sorry.”
“No need,” Megumi said. He looked down, fighting the warmth climbing up his neck, before continuing. “Your advice was helpful.”
“My advice?”
“About the stars.”
“Oh, I remember that!” Itadori exclaimed, turning to face Megumi. Megumi couldn’t meet his gaze. “I’m glad. I was really hoping I wasn’t just spewing some nonsense.”
“You weren’t,” Megumi assured.
“Maybe I should be a therapist. What do you think, Fushiguro?” Itadori quipped, lightly nudging Megumi’s arm.
Megumi glanced sideways at him. “Shut up.”
Itadori just chuckled, and another beat of silence passed over them.
Itadori finally spoke, expression solemn, looking up at the sky once more. “I was just thinking, I don’t really know what I would do without you, Fushiguro.”
Megumi’s eyes widened.
“I don’t know. Maybe it’s dumb, but I’m really happy we met. You’re one of the first people I’ve ever really been close with, aside from my gramps,” Itadori revealed. “You’re really important to me.”
There was a pause. “I was thinking the same,” Megumi said, but the words didn’t sound quite right. “I feel the same way.”
Itadori turned to look at Megumi, and Megumi was afraid to meet his eyes.
When Megumi finally looked, his heart skipped a beat. Maybe two. Actually, it might’ve stopped altogether. Itadori was looking at Megumi with wide eyes, his pupils blown. His mouth was parted, the slightest upward tilt evident, and the only word that could describe the expression that Itadori Yuuji wore in that moment would be “awe.” Even then, that word wasn’t enough to fully illustrate just how he looked at Megumi.
Megumi felt like his heart had just turned to wax and ripped out of his chest, left on a metal platter to melt in the summer heat.
He loves Itadori.
Fushiguro Megumi loves Itadori Yuuji.
He couldn’t place the feeling earlier, but he was certain of it now. There was nothing else that could’ve explained it. The realization hit him like a train, but as he looked at Itadori, he wondered how he didn’t see it earlier. How could he not love Itadori?
Itadori is everything Megumi isn’t. He’s kind, positive, soft, and he always sees the best in life. He always sees the best in Megumi. Megumi understood, then, what Itadori meant during that conversation a few weeks ago.
No matter what happens, Itadori will always hold a place in Megumi’s heart. Even if Itadori turns away from the light, he will always have made an impact on Megumi. That will never change. He will always be the one that Megumi loves. He will live forever in Megumi’s memories as someone that helped him grow and learn. Despite everything, Megumi will always know that Itadori helped him to see things he might’ve never known he didn’t see.
These simple moments are what make life valuable.
Megumi didn’t realize he was moving closer to Itadori until their lips were a breath away. Megumi was staring at Itadori’s lips, and Itadori was staring at Megumi’s. Megumi let his hand cradle the back of Itadori’s neck, and he pulled him in.
Itadori’s lips were slightly chapped, but still soft. Megumi wondered if everything about him was soft. His lips were soft, his skin was soft, his hair was soft, his heart was soft—
Itadori’s hands cupped Megumi’s cheeks like they were something fragile and deepened the kiss. Megumi felt the tension in his shoulders ease, sighing softly as he pulled himself even closer to Itadori’s body.
Megumi gently tilted Itadori’s head, leaning the boy backward until he was flat on the ground. Megumi allowed the hand resting behind Itadori’s head to travel throughout the rest of his scalp. Megumi carded through soft, pink hair, lightly tugging some of the strands. Itadori shuddered beneath him, and Megumi felt a spark bloom in his stomach.
Eventually, both parted for air, though reluctantly. Megumi stared down at Itadori, completely entranced. He was sure he looked like a lovestruck moron, gazing at him as if he’d just hung the moon and stars. Though, Itadori wasn’t in a much different position. The black of his pupils swallowed almost all of the warm brown of his eyes, and his cheeks were flushed pink.
Megumi was too impatient to wait for Itadori to catch his breath. He wanted all of Itadori right now. His skin, his touch, his love, his smile— Megumi wanted it all. Who cares if it’s selfish? Megumi wanted to indulge, just this once.
He began planting desperate kisses on the side of Itadori’s mouth, lingering on his scar, before moving down. He moved to Itadori’s cheek, then trailed down to his jaw, eventually landing on his neck. Itadori gasped, allowing his hands to wander around Megumi’s body. He traced the seam of Megumi’s shirt, teasing the exposed skin on his stomach. He eventually planted his hands on Megumi’s waist, rubbing the skin with his index finger.
“Megumi,” Itadori managed, exasperated. Megumi paused at the use of his given name, looking up at Itadori through long eyelashes. Something needier flowed through Megumi’s veins at the sound. He immediately lifted his head, resuming his strike on Itadori’s—Yuuji’s—lips. These kisses were more passionate and urgent than the ones previously.
Yuuji smiled, moving his hands up to grip Megumi’s face. “Megumi,” he said again, muffled by Megumi’s lips. Yuuji chuckled, pulling Megumi’s face away from his. Megumi’s eyebrows furrowed in disappointment at the loss of touch.
“What?” Megumi said, his tone irritated, but he was sure it came out more like a whine. He searched Yuuji’s eyes for whatever reason Yuuji had for stopping.
Yuuji avoided Megumi’s gaze, face flushing rapidly. He sat up, suddenly looking more flustered than he did moments ago. “I, uh,” he started. “I love you. I’m pretty sure.”
Megumi’s eyes widened, the words sinking into his bones. If he could replay one memory for the rest of his life, he was one hundred percent sure it would be this one. He let his head fall onto Yuuji’s shoulder, burying his face in the crook of Yuuji’s neck. “You’re pretty sure?” Megumi asked.
“Yeah,” Yuuji said. “Is that bad?”
Megumi almost laughed. “No,” he answered. “It’s good,” Megumi paused. Then, quieter, “I feel the same.”
“Oh,” Yuuji said, a relieved smile forming on his face. “Oh. That’s good. That’s really good.”
‘The idea that someone can’t see the beauty in things, even things as simple as a moment like this, just kinda makes me sad.’
In that moment, Megumi found himself agreeing with Yuuji’s words. There was no doubt in Megumi’s mind that Yuuji was entirely correct.
Megumi would have no regrets in the way he lived as long as he ended up in this position by the end of it.