Chapter Text
To not have a cat in hell’s chance: (idiom) To be completely unable to achieve something. To have no chance at all.
Two weeks after his grandfather passes away, Yuuji adopts a cat.
Admittedly, it wasn’t a decision he’d put much thought into at the time. But then he’d come back to his tiny apartment one day, exhausted from cram school, and opened the door to see: Piles of unwashed dishes in the sink. Dirty laundry scattered all over the floor. On the table, stacks of envelopes containing all of his late grandfather’s medical bills. And in that moment he’d been overcome with a crushing loneliness so suffocating it stole the very breath from his lungs.
He goes to a nearby animal shelter the next day.
A cat would be nice, Yuuji thinks. Dogs are great too, but he doubts his landlord would let him keep one due to how small his place is. Plus, they’re more expensive, both to buy and to care for. And really, Yuuji is fine with any pet so long as they can liven up his dreary apartment.
He explains all of this to the young man behind the counter, who then proceeds to lead him into a side room labeled ‘Cats Only’. They walk down aisle after aisle, the volunteer offering suggestions every once in a while, but Yuuji’s heart isn’t in it somehow. There’s always something a little off about each cat—too young, too overweight, requires too much attention, sheds too much, and so on. Yuuji is just about to thank the man for his time and search elsewhere when, from his vision’s periphery, he sees it.
There, in a shadowed corner, at the very last cage in the entire room, sits a large, regal cat. It’s sprawled over the whole length of its container, like a king reclining upon his throne. Black markings line its cheeks and legs. Its ruby red eyes are piercing and intelligent. Truly, a wonderous and majestic creature whose every pore radiated an aura of refined magnificence.
But, more importantly, it’s pink. The same shade of pink as Yuuji’s hair.
If this isn’t a sign from God, Yuuji doesn’t know what is.
"Hey, what about that cat over there?" he asks, making his way over.
"Oh, that’s Sukuna," the volunteer says, apprehension clear in his voice as he trails behind Yuuji. “I don’t think you’ll want him. There are plenty of other cats around I haven’t shown you yet—"
"But what’s wrong with this one?" Yuuji interjects.
"Ah. Er." More nervous wringing of hands. "Well, he’s not very well-behaved. And, and he’s old! Very old. Yes, in fact, there are even rumors that he’s a demonic cat older than the shelter itself—"
"Aww, I don’t think he’s that bad. Right, Sukuna?" Yuuji beams at the cat, who has now noticed the unwanted presence of two scummy humans before it and is growling from behind the metal bars of its cage. Unphased, Yuuji turns back to the man sweating profusely beside him. "Hey, do you think you can open the door for me? I want to try holding him."
The volunteer goes as pale as a sheet, hands Yuuji the keys, and walks away without another word. Yuuji can only stare at the man’s retreating back, nonplussed.
"Oookay, that was weird." Regardless, Yuuji has never been one to let a little weirdness ruin his day. He unlocks the cage door and reaches inside to scoop Sukuna up, ignoring its fervent struggling all the while. "So, what do you say, Sukuna?" he coos down at the cat screaming bloody murder in his arms. "Do you want to be pink hair buddies with me?"
In response, Sukuna hisses and swipes its claws up in an attempt to scratch Yuuji’s eyes out.
"…Alright, I’ll take that as a yes."
The actual adoption process goes by pretty smoothly, aside from the part where the volunteer suffers a minor heart attack when he hears that Yuuji does, in fact, want to adopt Sukuna. Even the manager of the shelter drops by with reassurances that there are other cats here who are more deserving of a loving home, sir, won’t you please reconsider?
But Yuuji’s already made up his mind. Surely all this poor cat needs is a little love and care, and then it’ll be right as rain. All animals are like that, right? Sukuna will be great, Yuuji is sure of it.
---
Life with Sukuna is an absolute nightmare.
From the second Yuuji had set the cat carrier down, Sukuna seemed bent on making his every waking moment a living hell with single-minded determination. It sped off like a furry pink missile, set on obliterating everything in its path and leaving mass destruction in its wake. No stone was left unturned. No piece of furniture left unmarked, no article of clothing left untouched. Yuuji’s apartment had always been quite messy—as was expected of any teenage boy living without adult supervision—but this level of disarray was on a whole new level.
"You’re lucky my broke ass could never afford furniture expensive enough for me to get upset over," Yuuji tells the cat lounging over his kitchen counter, worn out after its latest reign of terror. Sukuna only stares back at him, unimpressed, and reaches over to knock yet another one of Yuuji’s mugs onto the floor.
Yuuji sighs deeply, counts backwards from ten, and starts picking up after the broken pieces of his ravaged home.
Kitty-proofing his apartment and figuring out how to navigate life with Sukuna becomes quite the learning experience. The cat seems interested only in Yuuji’s belongings and never spares a glance at any of the cat toys he’d so painstakingly bought for it. It also hates receiving affection but will yowl to the high heavens if Yuuji leaves it alone for too long. And it eats only from a specific luxury brand of cat food that's pricier than an entire week’s worth of Yuuji’s convenience store bentos. Truly, there is just no winning with this cat.
("I know what you’re trying to do, Sukuna," Yuuji declared, after the third time Sukuna had broken into his pantry and raided his precious supply of tuna-mayo onigiri, "but I’m not going to return you to the shelter. Got it? Pink hair buddies don’t abandon each other. We’re ride or die now."
And so, Sukuna stayed on.)
On the bright side, Yuuji’s hygienic practices have never been better. He no longer leaves his clothes lying around and cleans up after himself after he eats. Any item in possible danger of being mauled via monster cat has now been stored safely behind lock and key. Mainly out of necessity, but hey, any progress to becoming a functional adult is good progress. And it’s nice to come back to someone at the end of the day, even if that someone is a crazy cat spawned from the deepest pits of Hell.
Time slowly passes this way for months, and before Yuuji knows it, he’s already a high school graduate, ready to enter society as a proper adult. Going to university is out of the question, so he starts looking up job listings wherever he can. For years, he works several odd jobs: as a construction worker, a waiter, a cinema cashier, a delivery man, and—in one particularly memorable stint—a host at a gay bar. Eventually, though, he manages to land himself the position of an apprentice at a physiotherapy rehabilitation center. His bosses even end up liking him so much that they’re willing to send him for night classes so that he can get a degree and work for them as a full-time professional.
In short, life’s going pretty great. He’s made a lot of friends over the years through his various jobs. He has a stable career he enjoys. And he’s helping other people out, like he promised his grandfather he would.
(And if, sometimes, he still feels a little lonely at night, when there’s no one around and there’s nothing to listen to but the sound of his own breathing—well, that’s okay. He’s already been blessed with so much. There really is nothing more he could ever ask for.)
---
Actually, scratch that.
If there is one thing Yuuji could ask for, it’d be that Sukuna maybe take a chill pill. Or ten.
Now, Yuuji’s no animal expert, but he understands that different animals have different temperaments and different needs. He’s also fairly certain that whatever Sukuna is doing, is probably not normal cat behavior.
It’s probably not normal that Sukuna has sent at least ten vets running home in tears. It’s definitely not normal that Sukuna is so infamous among members of the veterinarian community that they’ve blacklisted it (and by extension, Yuuji) from every animal clinic within a fifty-kilometer radius. Add in the fact that Sukuna hasn’t appeared to have aged at all in the eight years Yuuji has owned it and, well. There might be some truth to the whole 'Sukuna is actually an immortal demon trapped in a cat’s body' theory after all.
Luckily for Yuuji though, there is one animal clinic willing to take Sukuna in. Granted, that’s most likely because the clinic is as shady as Sukuna itself, but beggars can’t be choosers.
Jujutsu Clinic sits at the very edge of the city, in a forested area far enough away from the mainland that rumors of Itadori Yuuji’s Fabled Hellcat haven’t reached them yet. The head vet, Yaga Masamichi, is a leading researcher on animal prosthetics, renowned and respected in his field. He also owns a walking, talking panda animatronic who serves as the clinic’s unofficial mascot. The cafeteria chef working there is so dedicated to his craft that Yuuji’s only ever heard him speak in onigiri fillings.
It’s all just really fucking weird.
But the clinic’s crowning glory in the weirdo department is undeniably one Gojo Satoru, who not-so-coincidentally also happens to be Sukuna’s vet. He remains, to this day, the only vet Yuuji knows who hasn’t developed a debilitating case of PTSD upon encountering Sukuna. Yuuji thinks part of it might be because he’s always working blindfolded, for whatever reason, but Sukuna hasn’t died yet under his care, so Yuuji supposes that’s deserving of some credit.
("Do you really perform surgery with that thing on?" Yuuji asked him, the day they first met.
"Now, now, Yuuji, what kind of doctor tells his clients all of his trade secrets?"
"…A normal one?" Yuuji replied, unsure where this was going.
"Well, lucky for you, I am absolutely not normal!" Gojo placed his hand on Yuuji’s shoulder in a gesture that was probably meant to be comforting, but was most definitely not. "Don’t worry, your cat is in good hands!")
But, true to his word, Gojo does take good care of Sukuna. Perhaps a little too good, considering how rambunctious the cat still is in its old age.
Which is why it comes as a surprise to Yuuji when he realizes one morning that Sukuna is acting more subdued than usual. On a normal day, the cat would’ve already been up to its usual chaos, running about and scratching whatever furniture it could get its grubby little paws on. But today it seems…quieter somehow, making itself scarce and hiding by Yuuji’s windowsill. When he comes back from work later in the evening and finds Sukuna still there, unmoving, Yuuji is concerned enough that he calls Gojo up despite the late hour.
"Gojo-sensei?" he says as soon as the other man picks up. "Hi, sorry to call so late, but do you think I could arrange for an appointment with you soon? Sukuna doesn’t seem to be feeling well, and I’m a little worried about him."
There’s a thoughtful hum from down the line. "Hm... Does it look urgent? Can you see any injuries or think of anything in the past few days which could’ve caused this?"
Yuuji thinks hard to reflect on this. "No, nothing in particular. But he seemed really sluggish today and didn’t eat much of the food I left out for him this morning."
"Great!" Gojo chirps, sounding far too chipper for the situation at hand. "I’m fully booked tomorrow, so why don’t you come in the day after? And if something urgent comes up before then we can always get Ijichi to look at him for you in the meantime."
Yuuji makes a mental note not to go unless absolutely necessary. The poor man has already been traumatized enough by his cat, thank you very much.
"Alright, I’ll see you soon, then. Thanks and goodnight, Gojo-sensei."
"Oh, I’m sure you will." There’s something rather ominous about Gojo’s tone, but Yuuji can’t quite put his finger on why. "Night, night!"
And then the line goes dead. Yuuji stares at the phone in his hand for a solid minute, trying to process what the hell just happened, before sighing and returning the phone to its socket. There are matters more pressing to deal with right now than figuring out the meaning behind Gojo’s patented brand of cryptic bullshit.
Slowly, so as not to startle the cat, Yuuji reaches over to pet Sukuna, fingers stroking lightly over glossy pink fur. Sukuna hisses and bites at the offending hand, but Yuuji can tell the attempt is lacking in its usual ferocity. His heart clenches with anxiety.
"Hey, buddy," he coos as he gently picks Sukuna up and carries it into his bedroom, "what do you say to sleeping early tonight? I know you’re not feeling your best right now, but that’s all going to change after we bring you to the vet’s, okay?"
The cat in his arms shuffles closer, seeking comfort, and buries its face into the soft fabric of his hoodie. Yuuji smiles and rubs a broad palm down Sukuna’s back, holding it tighter against his chest. "So even you can be cute sometimes, huh? Don’t worry, Sukuna, everything will be just fine."
A flick of the switch and the lights go out, enveloping his room in darkness.
"You’ll see. Gojo-sensei will fix you right up."
"What do you mean he’s not here today?"
Yuuji knows he’s making quite the unsightly racket with all of his yelling and flailing, but come on.
"I was just on the phone with him two days ago! He was the one who told me to come in today!"
Yaga and Ijichi stand before him with matching contrite expressions on their faces. Or at least, Yuuji assumes so. The sunglasses are admittedly making Yaga’s expression rather difficult to decipher.
(Come to think of it, why do so many people in this damn clinic wear some kind of eye gear indoors, anyway? The lighting here isn’t so bright. Is this the latest hot trend among veterinarians? What kind of fashion statement even is this?)
"Th-That may have been the case, but he’s…well, I’m afraid he’s just not here at the moment," Ijichi stammers, adjusting his spectacles sheepishly.
Yuuji cannot believe this. "Then where is he?"
"Hawaii."
There is so much to unpack here that Yuuji doesn’t even know where to begin.
But Yaga presses on, oblivious to his plight. "To be more accurate, he’s on a plane to Hawaii. Right now. With his husband. For their wedding anniversary."
"Oh." Yuuji hadn’t even known that Gojo was married. "That’s…uh, nice, I guess? But why couldn’t he have told me all this before?"
"No one knew," Ijichi assures him. "Gojo-san sent in his leave of absence—"
"Five minutes before his shift."
"—Five minutes before his shift started, and by then there was nothing we could do about it," Ijichi finishes. "We truly are very sorry for the trouble we’ve caused you, Itadori-kun."
"Wait, hang on a second. If he’s flying off for his anniversary, then shouldn’t you guys have known in advance that this was going to happen and planned around it somehow?"
And now Yaga is starting to look a little annoyed himself. "The date of Satoru’s ‘wedding anniversary’ changes every year."
"Uh, what."
"Last year it was in December, and two years ago it was in March," Ijichi explains. "They’re more than likely not for his actual anniversary and we’re not sure why he keeps referring to them as such, but he does still have a few days left of paid leave this year. Therefore, it is technically in his right to go on vacation, even if the way he went about it was wrong and improper."
The underlying statement that ‘Gojo Satoru may be an absolute trash-heap of a human being, but he’s too damn good at his job for us to fire him’ goes unsaid but is implicitly understood by all.
And Yuuji does understand this. Really, he does. But…
"I already took leave this afternoon because Gojo-sensei said he’d be free to check on Sukuna today…" Yuuji says, desperation and distress bleeding into his voice despite his valiant efforts to stay calm. "And I can’t wait that long for him to come back! Sukuna could be dying right now!" He shoves the cat carrier in Ijichi’s face. "Please help us, Ijichi-san! Gojo-sensei told me that you could look at him if anything went wrong!"
Sukuna thrashes inside its carrier. Ijichi takes a hasty step back.
"It is not Kiyotaka’s responsibility to make up for Satoru’s mistakes," Yaga says firmly, planting himself between both men. "However, we were able to find a substitute vet who was willing to take over for Satoru while he is gone. You can see him instead."
"Will it really be okay? I mean, Sukuna can be a lot to handle."
"Satoru was the one who made the recommendation to us, and I trust his professional judgment, if nothing else."
"I’m sure that the new vet is plenty capable," Ijichi pipes up from behind Yaga’s hulking form, rejuvenated upon hearing that he won’t be in charge of treating Yuuji’s cat after all. "His resumé was very impressive for someone so young. Who knows, you might even end up liking him more than Gojo-san!"
Not a high bar to meet, given their current circumstances.
"Well, if that’s what you think is best..."
"Perfect!" Ijichi beams. "Now, please follow me, Itadori-kun. I’ll take you right to him."
The walk down to Gojo’s examination room is familiar. Ijichi raps his knuckles lightly against the door upon arrival to make their presence known.
"Pardon the intrusion," Ijichi says. "Your client is here."
A muffled voice calls out from the other side, "Please come in."
So Yuuji does, opening the door with a bright grin and a cheerful, "Thanks for having me!", ready to make a good first impression—
(How could he have known, at the time, that this would be the one moment to seal his fate? To spell out his demise?
After all, those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it.)
—And comes face to face with Fushiguro Megumi again for the first time in seven years.
(The thing is, anyone who’s ever had the pleasure of speaking with Yuuji would learn, within five minutes of meeting him, about how much he loved watching movies and admired Jennifer Lawrence. Another ten minutes in and they’d learn that he’d spent the entirety of his high school career pining after a black-haired, blue-eyed beauty named Fushiguro Megumi.
Because it was a good icebreaker, see, to laugh about these kinds of things. To joke self-deprecatingly about dashed dreams and the perils of youthful naiveté. Reminisce over old, unrequited high school crushes that never went anywhere—because he was head-over-heels in love with someone so out of his league they were practically universes apart—and that would never lead to anything—because they’d parted ways seven years ago, moved on from each other’s lives, never to cross paths again.
…At least, until now.)
Yuuji is not freaking out.
Absolutely not.
Holy shit, it’s Fushiguro. But why is he here? What is he even doing in a place like this? It’s been so long, what if he doesn’t remember me?
And then, an even worse thought occurs to him, Oh god, what if he does?
…Okay, so he might be freaking out a little.
But who could blame him? From the instant Yuuji had laid eyes on him, all the memories he had—of each and every second he’d spent hopelessly enamored by Fushiguro—flashed through his mind like the film reel of a bad romcom played in slow motion. Three years he’d pined for this guy. That’s a whole one thousand and ninety-five days’ worth of gross, mushy teen feelings to account for. More, if one counts all the times after, when Yuuji’s thoughts would inevitably stray back to the only person who’d ever captivated him so readily in the past.
(In actuality, Yuuji had only ever interacted with Fushiguro a grand total of twice before graduating, and neither occasion had been particularly flattering for his image.
The first instance occurred when Fushiguro had come across the Supernatural Club during his hall monitor rounds, right as Yuuji was about to eat something gross on a dare, and consequently busted all of their asses so hard they were sent to detention for a week.
The second was after their graduation ceremony, when Yuuji had all but dragged Fushiguro outside the school building; pinned him against the wall to profess his undying love in a scenario that would make any shoujo mangaka weep tears of joy; chickened out last minute; spouted some random bullshit line about living a full life out of sheer panic; and then bolted right the fuck out of there before the other could say a word.
So, yeah. Nothing that gave Fushiguro the impression that he was anything but a massive tool, probably.)
"Itadori-san," Fushiguro’s voice snaps him out of his spiraling thoughts. "Please have a seat."
"O-Of course, Fushiguro…sensei?" Yuuji isn’t sure what the right protocol here is. They’re technically the same age, but Fushiguro’s the one in the doctor’s seat, not him.
"Just Fushiguro is fine."
"Okay. Fushiguro it is, then. And, uh, just Itadori is fine too."
"Alright."
A beat of excruciating silence passes between them, broken only when Fushiguro fidgets and clears his throat. "And how can I help you today, Itadori?"
Right, the reason for his coming here in the first place. Yuuji shifts to sit down in the guest’s chair and places the cat carrier on his lap. "So, I think there’s something wrong with my cat—"
He freezes.
His cat.
His cat, Sukuna, the homicidal hellion who by name alone could strike fear into the hearts of veterinarians far and wide. Sukuna, who is surely going to send Fushiguro home crying and ruin all of Yuuji’s (already nonexistent) chances of ever getting the other man to like him—
Unaware of Yuuji’s current mental crisis, Fushiguro moves closer to examine the carrier, his hands deftly working to unlatch its door. From within the confines of its cage, Sukuna crouches in an offensive position, poised to strike at the next unsuspecting victim foolish enough to dare sully its sacred domain—
"Fushiguro, wait!"
—And does absolutely nothing.
What the fuck.
Startled, Fushiguro flinches back, looking apologetic. "Sorry. I shouldn’t have touched your pet without asking for permission first."
"N-No, that’s not it. I swear, he’s actually super dangerous—"
But as if to contest Yuuji’s statements, Sukuna merely nudges its nose against Fushiguro’s open palm in an affectionate gesture, all the while producing a rumbling sound so foreign to Yuuji’s ears it takes him a hot second to figure out what it is.
Purring.
What. The. Fuck.
Sukuna, purring! Yuuji hadn’t even known that Sukuna was capable of producing any noise beyond demonic screeching, quite frankly.
"I don’t see what the problem is here," Fushiguro says, wary. "Your cat is very well-behaved," he adds, casually dropping six words Yuuji never expected to hear in tandem during his lifetime.
"Uh, he’s not usually like this. No, really," Yuuji stresses upon seeing Fushiguro’s dubious expression. "This is the first time I’ve seen Sukuna not attempt to murder anyone on sight."
"…Is that so?"
Sukuna, the traitorous bastard, only purrs louder and flops over like a docile little lamb, the very picture of innocence itself.
Damn that cat for ruining his credibility like this.
"Well, it appears to be behaving properly now," Fushiguro remarks as he lifts Sukuna out of its carrier and onto the examination table, oblivious to what a momentous occasion this actually is. "Now, can you recount to me everything that seems out of the ordinary in regards to your cat as of late? Every small detail helps."
Yuuji does so, almost on autopilot, as he observes Fushiguro at work, puttering about as he inspects Sukuna and measures its vitals. The years have treated him well, Yuuji notices. He’d always been so, so beautiful, and still is—all delicate features set on a pale, finely-boned face framed by sable locks; a gorgeous dichotomy of light and shadow—but there’s also a new maturity in the way he carries himself that had been lacking before. He’s taller now. A little broader. Still somewhat reserved, but in a way that spoke of quiet confidence rather than his past surly indifference.
(He’s changed, yes, but he’s still the same person Yuuji had fallen for ten years ago, through and through. Yuuji aches, just looking at him.)
After the examination, Fushiguro returns to his seat to write a few things down on his clipboard. He stares off into space for some time, lost in thought, before facing Yuuji to ask, "Have you ever fed your cat any raw meat?"
"What? Of course not," Yuuji says, taken aback by the odd question and honestly rather offended at the very notion because Sukuna eats better than he does, most days.
"Then how about hunting prey? Does he often do that?"
"I mean, there are mice in the apartment sometimes," Yuuji admits, self-conscious about his less-than-ideal living conditions. "And yeah, Sukuna does catch them from time to time. But I’ve never seen him actually eat them or anything."
Nevertheless, this seems to be all Fushiguro needed to hear because he nods once, decisively, and says, "Toxoplasmosis."
Yuuji stares. "Toxo-what now?"
"Toxoplasmosis," Fushiguro reiterates without missing a beat. "It’s an intestinal parasite that's capable of infecting a cat’s digestive tract when it ingests raw meat or infected prey. You said your cat sometimes catches mice in your apartment, right? That’s most likely where he got it from."
"I see… Um, is there anything I can do for him?"
"I’m going to prescribe some antibiotics to help alleviate the symptoms, but he should get better on his own in a few days. Still, many cats don’t show any overt signs of the disease at all, so it’s commendable that you were able to catch onto it in its early stages." He’s smiling when he hands Sukuna back over to Yuuji. "You must really care about your cat, Itadori."
Oh, great. Yuuji knows, by the prickling warmth on his face, that he’s blushing to the roots of his hair right now. "Th-Thank you?"
Fushiguro hums and scribbles more notes down onto his clipboard. "By the way, I’d advise for you to be extra careful with Sukuna for the next couple of weeks. The parasite tends to shed its oocysts—that is, its eggs—into the host’s digestive tract, which in turn are later then dispelled through its feces. People can contract toxoplasmosis this way too, so try to use disposable gloves when handling his litter and wash your hands thoroughly afterwards. Oh, and change his litter daily too, if possible."
Honestly, Yuuji caught only about half of what he said, but… "So, I just have to be careful in cleaning up after him, but otherwise he’s safe to touch?"
"That’s right. The parasite should flush itself out of his system in two weeks, give or take, but you can bring him back here for a follow-up examination after that if you’re still concerned about him."
"Oh god, that is such a relief to hear." He can’t help his large grin or the way his hand moves to clap at Fushiguro’s shoulder in a companionable gesture. "Thank you so much, Fushiguro!"
"O-Of course," the other man returns, looking stunned.
Crap, he’d probably laid it on too thick, didn’t he? Yuuji drops his hand as if burned. "Whoops, sorry about that! I keep forgetting that I’m not supposed to be so touchy-feely around other people," he says sheepishly. "But I really am thankful for your help. I was super worried when they told me that Gojo-sensei wasn’t around this morning to look at Sukuna for me."
"Don’t mention it." There’s something almost defensive about Fushiguro’s words, and his eyes are averted when he speaks. Weird. "I owed Gojo-sensei a favor anyway."
"Even so, I’m glad it was you."
Oookay, and that’s his cue to get the hell out of here before he gets the chance to embarrass himself any further. He herds Sukuna back into its carrier, the cat uncharacteristically compliant for once, and makes a hasty beeline to the door. "Thanks again for everything!"
"Wait, Itadori—"
Yuuji halts midstride and turns around, heart thumping out of his chest.
Fushiguro looks…conflicted, for lack of a better word. He immediately withdraws into himself when he notices Yuuji’s expectant gaze on him. "No, it’s nothing. Never mind."
Disappointment rises in the back of Yuuji’s throat like bile, but he forces himself to smile through it. He can at least be honest about one thing, if nothing else. "It was nice meeting you again like this, Fushiguro. I’m glad to see that you’re doing well."
Fushiguro blinks, seemingly caught off guard, but then his features melt into a warm smile of his own. "Yes, likewise. Have a good day, Itadori."
"Yeah, you too."
And then Yuuji closes the door behind him, walks away from Fushiguro for the second time in his life, and wonders why it never gets any less painful doing so.
---
Yuuji makes it exactly fifteen steps out of the clinic’s entrance before he has to duck behind a nearby bush to suffer his long-overdue nervous breakdown while Sukuna stares judgmentally at him from within its carrier. All in all, not one of his prouder moments, that’s for sure. With shaking hands, he picks his phone up and, by some miracle, manages to type in a number he’s dialed so often in the past it’s ingrained to his muscle memory by now.
In times like this, there’s only one person he can trust with his fragile mental state.
"Junpei!"
"Yuuji?" his friend’s voice calls back out in concern. "Hey, what’s the matter? Is something wrong?"
"I saw him today, Junpei!” he half-whispers, half-hyperventilates into his phone. "I saw Fushiguro!"
"Fushiguro? That Fushiguro Megumi guy you’re always going on about?" A pause. "Wait, he’s real?"
Yuuji’s jaw drops in outrage. This utter betrayal. Unforgivable. "I’m having a crisis and that’s all you can say?! Yes, he’s real, he just diagnosed my cat with intestinal parasites!"
A longer, significantly more confused pause. "Okay, you’re going to have to back up a little here because I have no idea what the hell you’re talking about."
And so Yuuji recounts the last two days in painstaking detail—starting with Sukuna’s strange behavior, to Gojo’s flaky ass bailing out on their appointment, and then to his disastrous meeting with Fushiguro. This is Junpei he’s talking to, after all. His favorite, most frequent customer while he was still working at the cinema, turned close friend and trusted confidant. They’ve stuck together through thick and thin, through good movies and bad movies and everything in between. Yuuji has lost count of the number of times they’ve stayed up crying into the wee hours of the night together over nonsensical plot twists and contrived romantic subplots. There are absolutely no boundaries left in their friendship, no secrets at all to hide.
When all has been said and done, there is a weighted silence on Junpei’s end. Then, "Honestly, I’d always assumed that this Fushiguro guy was some kind of euphemism for an abstract concept rather than an actual living, breathing person. Either that, or a figment of your imagination."
"What? Why would you even think that? He’s perfect."
"And that’s the exact reason why," Junpei groans. "You kept making him out to be such a shining pinnacle of humanity, it was really hard to believe someone so amazing could actually exist."
Alright, so Yuuji is willing to admit that he might be a little biased when it came to anything Fushiguro-related, but now is hardly an appropriate time for Junpei to be throwing shade at him like this. "Yeah, well, he definitely exists, okay? I know this because I made a complete fool out of myself in front of him half an hour ago."
Junpei sighs. "Come on, I’m sure it wasn't as bad as you’re making it out to be. It sounded like he remembered you too, at least. And he seemed pretty nice about everything, so that’s good news, right?"
"I guess… He’s changed since I last saw him."
"Yeah? How?"
"He uses a lot of big words now," Yuuji sniffles. "It was really sexy."
This time the pause is so long and drawn-out that Yuuji can almost feel Junpei’s disapproval radiating from the other end.
"Alright, enough is enough."
Strike one.
Uh-oh. Yuuji is intimately familiar with this tone of voice and what it entails.
"You are clearly in need of an intervention, but I also know that I am not the right person to stage it."
Strike two.
"Junpei, wait, I really don’t think this is necessary—"
"No, Yuuji, I’m doing this for your own sake."
Aaand strike three, the final bombshell.
"I’m calling Nobara."
Yuuji’s friendship with Nobara had always felt like an ongoing study on the concept of polarities. It’s simultaneously one of the best and the worst things to have ever happened to him, and was equal parts stable and turbulent in its nature. They’d have their moments of being so frustrated with each other that they couldn’t bear to be in the same vicinity, but there was also no one Yuuji trusted more in times of great difficulty than Nobara and vice versa. Junpei theorized that it was because they were basically two peas in a pod sharing the same brain cell, but Yuuji begged to differ.
He’d met Nobara many years ago while working the same part-time job at a restaurant bussing tables. There was an instant connection between them, being the two youngest employees around at the time, and they’d built an easy friendship over roasting rude customers behind their backs together. They shared a bond only those who’ve partnered up working overtime mopping down toilet stalls ‘til late into the night could share. What they had between them was real.
Nobara had also been his girlfriend once. Sort of. For half a day. On a date that lasted less than an hour before Nobara had declared that she was definitively not attracted to men. To this day Yuuji wonders if he should’ve been more offended by the whole debacle, but then she’d bought him some apology takoyaki on their way home and all had been forgiven.
Definitely one of his weirder friendships, but also one of his most treasured.
He’s starting to think he might need to reassess his prior statement though, when he comes home—physically and mentally weary after the emotional rollercoaster that was his last few hours—and finds Nobara making a mess out of his kitchen.
"What took you so long, loser?" she says when she sees him walk in, brandishing his own spatula at him. "We’ve been waiting for almost an hour!"
From the dining table, a bespectacled young woman waves her hand at him in greeting. Ah, that explains the ‘we’. "Hello, Yuuji. It’s been a while."
"Maki-san, hey," he returns perfunctorily, before frowning down at Nobara. "I never said you could let yourself in."
"You lost that right when you gave me the spare key to your place all those years ago," Nobara says, unapologetic. "Anyway, I didn’t know when you were coming back, so I made dinner for us to share. Put your stuff down and come eat with us."
Yuuji has to admit, the prospect of a warm, homecooked meal does sound fantastic after such a hectic afternoon. He supposes he can forgive her for breaking and entering just this once. "Yeah, alright. Thanks, Nobara."
He goes into his room to let Sukuna out of its carrier and put his jacket away before coming out to join Maki at the table. "It’s rare to see you in this part of town, Maki-san. Did you have business here?"
"You could say that," she says, smiling wryly. “Nobara originally invited me out for dinner tonight, but she got a call not long after we met up and changed her mind. I figured I may as well come along, seeing as I was already here and had no other plans for the evening.”
Great. Now Yuuji can add third-wheeling and homewrecking to his growing list of offenses. This is an all-new low, even for him. "I am so, so sorry. I had no idea… I told Junpei this all wasn’t necessary—"
"Shut up and accept our friendship, Yuuji," Nobara demands, walking over with three plates of fried rice. "Maki-san and I can have our date any other time, but Junpei made it clear this was urgent. Said you were freaking out about something and needed an intervention, but wouldn’t tell me why." She spreads her arms wide in a magnanimous gesture incongruous with her leering smirk. "And so, here I am, intervening. Hold your applause, please. You can thank me later with an all-expenses-paid shopping trip to Harajuku instead."
Ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous.
Yuuji loves her so much.
He stuffs a spoonful of rice into his mouth to hide the fact that he’s seconds away from bawling his eyes out. It’s clear by Maki’s and Nobara’s exasperated but fond smiles that they’re totally onto him, but whatever. It’s been a long day. He deserves this.
"So, are we ever going to hear about what got your panties into a twist or what?" says Nobara, partway through the meal. "I can’t help you out if I don’t even know what the problem is to begin with."
Yuuji gives her A Look. "It’s about him."
Nobara’s eyes widen in understanding. "Oh, him."
(Ever since their attempt at dating gone laughably awry, Nobara had taken it upon herself to meddle with Yuuji’s romantic affairs…or lack thereof. She’d heard everything there was to hear regarding his pitiful infatuation over Fushiguro and therefore knew a frankly disturbing amount of information about a man she’d never met in person before.
They’d also made a tacit agreement around the time when Nobara had started pursuing Maki that they were never going to bring Fushiguro’s name up around her in conversation. Ever.
Zen’in Maki hailed from a long line of prestigious doctors, from a wealthy family so revered their last name was practically synonymous with royalty. She was all sorts of cool and tough and amazing and intimidating—Nobara’s words, not his—and definitely didn’t deserve to hear about how Yuuji had spent approximately ten years of his life pining after a guy who didn’t even know he existed.
"Maki-san’s too cool to be bogged down by your pathetic boy troubles," Nobara had said. And there hadn’t been much to argue in the face of such irrefutable logic, so Yuuji had agreed, and that had been that.)
"Who is this…‘him’ you're talking about?" Maki asks, eyes bright with curiosity.
Well, looks like the cat’s out of the bag now.
"It’s uh, this guy who I had a crush on in high school," Yuuji explains, while also trying to keep things as vague as possible. "I saw him today. He was working at the animal clinic I go to."
Nobara balks. "You saw Fushiguro at the vet’s?"
"Yeah, but—"
"Hold on," Maki interrupts. There’s something distinctly predatory about her expression. "A vet named Fushiguro… Do you mean Fushiguro Megumi? Spiky black hair, about this tall—"
"—Crazy long lashes, killer jawline, eyes the color of uncut sapphires?" Yuuji finishes before his brain can catch up to his mouth. Maki just stares at him, spectacularly unimpressed, while Nobara grins with unholy glee.
Ah, shit.
Yuuji’s first instinct is to backpedal, but then he realizes, "Wait, you know him?"
"Know him?" Maki scoffs. "He’s my nephew."
If Yuuji’s life were a bad American sitcom, now would be the perfect time to play a record scratch. Maybe a cheesy laugh track. Unfortunately for him, however, the only accompaniment he gets to this devastating truth bomb is the sound of his own wheezing and Nobara’s obnoxiously ear-splitting shriek.
"Whaaat?!"
"Nobara, shush!" he hisses because fuck, that was loud, and his neighbors already complain enough about the noise levels in his apartment as it is. Then his brain finally manages to process what Maki had just revealed, and he does a double-take. "You’re related to Fushiguro?"
"Paternally, yes. Megumi’s father is my cousin."
"B-But you guys don’t even share the same last name!"
Maki adjusts her glasses before folding her arms out in front of her, looking pensive and ready to spill some piping hot tea. "I don’t know the full story behind it, but Megumi’s father took on his first wife’s last name when he married her and then broke away from the Zen’in family soon after. I wasn’t even aware of Megumi’s existence until some years ago, when Satoru had introduced him to us. But since the beginning he and his father have never wanted anything to do with our family, god only knows why," she concludes, with the biting sarcasm of someone who knows exactly why.
This was the most he’d ever learned about Fushiguro in one sitting, Yuuji realizes with a start. "I had no idea… He never said anything about his family in school. Actually, he never liked talking about himself at all."
"And yet you still had feelings for him in spite of this," Maki says, neither a question nor an accusation. Just a simple statement of fact.
Yuuji flushes. It sounds so embarrassing, when she puts it like that. "Yeah, I did."
"Why?"
"W-Well, there were lots of reasons," Yuuji hedges. He hopes he isn’t receiving the convoluted equivalent of the Zen’in family shovel talk right now. "He was just…so many things: smart and good-looking and confident and really, really damn stubborn. But he never cared about what other people thought of him and seemed to know exactly what to do, no matter the situation. And I don’t mean to imply that he never cared about anyone else at all because he did, in his own special Fushiguro way. But he lived by his own moral code and was never afraid of being true to himself, and I’ve always admired him for that."
Yuuji doesn’t know if this is the answer Maki had been looking for, per se, but these are his true feelings on the matter, whether she likes it or not. He’s still relieved though, when she breaks out into a smile, approval clear on her face.
"Not bad at all, Itadori Yuuji. Well done," she says, almost wonderingly. But her expression clouds over as she continues speaking. "To my understanding, Megumi didn’t have an easy childhood, and I heard his high school years were especially trying. I’m glad that he had someone like you watching over him, even if he wasn’t aware of it at the time."
"Aww, isn’t it wonderful, Yuuji!" Nobara coos. "All those years of acting as Fushiguro’s stalkerish guardian angel have finally paid off! His family loves you!" She only laughs when Yuuji scowls and flings a pea at her, avoiding the incoming attack with a flourish. "Still, that doesn’t explain how he ended up appearing in Jujutsu Clinic, of all places. I would’ve thought that, as a member of the Zen’in family, he would've grown up to be a fancy-pants doctor or something."
She does have a point. Yuuji goes out of his way to avoid thinking about his high school graduation, for obvious reasons, but what he does remember is inconsistent with the current situation. "That’s true! Fushiguro got accepted into Todai’s Faculty of Medicine, didn’t he? Our principal even bragged about it during his closing speech."
"'Accepted' is one way to put it," Maki snorts. “He was awarded a full-ride scholarship, and the whole family never let us forget it. For months it was all, ‘Megumi did this’ and ‘Megumi did that’. But they soon shut up when they learned that he’d dropped out after only one semester. Nearly gave our family head an aneurysm when he heard all about it!” She’s laughing as she says this, as if recollecting a particularly joyful memory. For the longest time Yuuji had wondered how an uptown girl like Maki and a country hick like Nobara could ever find love with each other, but now he thinks he understands. It’s because they’re both horrible, horrible sadists. "Apparently Megumi had been using his connections with Satoru to apply for a veterinarian degree overseas in secret. By the time anyone found out, he was already on a plane to America, and no one could do anything to stop him."
"What a total jackass," Nobara says, delighted.
That does sound like a very Gojo-esque plan. Perhaps Fushiguro took after his mentor in more ways than just his choice in occupation.
Yuuji is still reeling from all this new information, even as time passes and dinner starts winding down. Before today, Fushiguro had been an enigma, an attractive specter to be admired from afar. But now he was his own person, with his own motivations and even his own tragic backstory. And to think, the only reason he’d even learned any of this at all was because his (sort of) ex-girlfriend’s new girlfriend was actually his old crush’s second-aunt.
Truly, the world works in such strange and mysterious ways.
"But isn’t it great, though?" exclaims Nobara, out of the blue. She’d been downing Yuuji’s good sake at a steady rate for the past hour and is undeniably more than a little tipsy by now. "You found Fushiguro after all these years, and my own girlfriend is related to him! That’s seriously some epic K-drama-worthy shit right there."
Yuuji frowns. "Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence."
"I’m saying that’s a good thing, you moron," Nobara slurs. "I’ve watched enough of them to know how this’ll end. Soon you’ll be banging him in the backseat of your car, and then you’ll be eloping to Las Vegas before we know it!" She sniffles once, theatrically, before devolving into full-on sobbing against Maki’s shoulder. "They all grow up so fast!"
"Nobara, I don’t even have a car, and no one is eloping to Las Vegas," Yuuji says, aghast that she’s bringing this up in front of Maki. Who he now knows is Fushiguro’s aunt.
Maki seems to take all this in stride, though her smile is a touch too evil for Yuuji’s comfort. "Don’t worry, Yuuji. I’m sure you can afford a car of your own someday, especially if you marry into my family."
Ugh. Yuuji is surrounded by harpies. "Alright, alright, I think it’s high time you both went home. Maki-san, can you help me get her to the door?"
"Hey! I can walk by myself, you know!" Nobara shouts, right before she stands up and careens into the wall. Her protests die down pretty quickly after that.
Watching Nobara nearly faceplant three times while trying to get into her shoes almost makes up for the mortifying dinnertime conversation, but soon she’s packed up and ready to go. Maki slings an arm around Nobara’s waist for support and starts making her way towards the entranceway.
"Don’t worry, I’ll see to it that she gets home safely," Maki assures him.
Yuuji nods. "Send me a text after you do."
"Stop talking about me like I’m not here," Nobara huffs, stumbling over to pull him in for a fierce hug. "Just…talk to him, okay? You’ve been in love with this guy for like, a whole decade, and now you have the chance to actually do something about it." And then, because she never does anything by halves, she also punches his arm for good measure. "I just want you to be happy for once, damn it. We all do."
"I-I know, Nobara. Really."
"I can give you his number," Maki offers, “or get you connected with him some other way."
"No, it’s okay." Getting Fushiguro’s number seems far too great a responsibility for his poor heart to handle right now, especially if he has no real justification for having it in the first place. "I know that he’s going to be working at Jujutsu Clinic until Gojo-sensei comes back. I can drop by and talk to him anytime."
"Alright. I’ll respect your decision, but don’t hesitate to contact me if you change your mind," Maki says. Nobara was right—she really is such a cool person. "And for what it’s worth, I do think you’ll be a good match for him. I’ll be wishing you all the best."
Yuuji’s cheeks warm at her compliment. "Thanks, Maki-san. It means a lot to me, coming from you."
"Promise me!” Nobara yells over her shoulder, obstinate about having the last word, even as Maki herds her down the hallway and into the elevator. "Promise me you won’t chicken out and that you’ll actually go talk to him!"
And he will. Honest. He just needs to sleep and get his thoughts sorted out first, but then he’ll go.
First thing in the morning.
Because Yuuji is a lying liar who lies, he does not, in fact, go back to Jujutsu Clinic first thing next morning.
It’s for the best, Yuuji reasons. He doesn’t want to imply that Fushiguro’s work was lacking in any way. That’s all. It has nothing to do with the fear of being unable to live up to the other man’s expectations or as coming off as some creepy weirdo stalker. Really.
Grandpa Itadori didn’t raise no coward. Yuuji is only doing this out of consideration for Fushiguro’s delicate pride. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, after all, and he’d already waited seven long years. What’s another day in the grand scheme of things?
One day becomes one week, and one week becomes two before Yuuji finally decides that an appropriate amount of time has passed and that it is now socially acceptable to visit the clinic once again.
He’s ready to face Fushiguro now. All the motivational videos he’d binged in preparation for this day will not be going to waste.
…Or so he’d thought. But when he’d opened the door to the examination room, impassioned speech at the ready, he’s greeted not with Fushiguro’s beautiful face but by a familiar blindfolded visage instead. The rush of enthusiasm he’d felt earlier deflates out of him so quickly it leaves him feeling vaguely constipated.
"Can’t you at least try to mask your disappointment a little better, Yuuji?" Gojo says in mock offense. "You’re going to hurt my feelings."
"Good."
"My, my. What’s gotten you so worked up that you’d attack a poor, blameless man like this? Was Megumi not good enough for you?"
Yuuji will not tolerate this sort of baseless Fushiguro slander. "What? No! Of course not! He was great. Diagnosed my cat with toxo-whatsit and everything. He told me I could come back today for a follow-up examination to see if it’s fully out of Sukuna’s system."
"Toxoplasmosis, huh? How nice!" Now, don’t get him wrong; Yuuji likes and respects Gojo a whole lot, but there’s also no denying that he’s long overdue for a good punch to his smug mug. "Alrighty then, let’s see how our dear little Sukuna is faring, shall we?"
Unfortunately for them, Sukuna is downright adamant about not getting with the program today. While getting Sukuna to cooperate with its vet had always been a major challenge, it seems extra stubborn in its refusal this time around. Which is strange because it had been unusually docile—for Sukuna’s standards, anyway—up until this point. Perhaps Sukuna had been anticipating Fushiguro instead? It’s acting like its life had completely changed upon meeting Fushiguro and that no one else who came after him could ever compare.
(Which Yuuji can relate to, one-hundred percent, but still.)
"I’m so sorry about all this," Yuuji says, frustrated after their tenth unsuccessful attempt at getting Sukuna out of its carrier. At this rate, Yuuji doesn’t know which one will give out first—the cat or the container. "I don’t know why he’s lashing out so much today. He was so well-behaved when Fushiguro looked at him last time, I thought that maybe he’d changed for the better."
This news gives Gojo pause. "Really?"
Gojo has been Sukuna’s primary vet for many years now. He knows better than anyone the perils that come with this job and title.
Yuuji nods miserably. "Yeah. He was super obedient and didn’t make a fuss at all when Fushiguro was examining him. I even heard him purring, Gojo-sensei! That was the first and only time I’ve ever heard him purr."
"Fascinating! How wonderful!" Gojo seems inordinately interested by this new development. "Say, have you heard this before? Studies have shown that pets are actually very cognizant and sensitive to their owner’s emotions. What do you think this could mean, hm? Is it possible that Sukuna is picking up certain feelings from you and projecting them onto Megumi?"
Yuuji is seriously going to deck this guy someday. He’s sure everyone will thank him for it, too. "Th-That’s not true! Animals don’t work that way!"
"Maybe they do, and maybe they don’t. Either way, it doesn’t change the fact that we’re going nowhere like this." Gojo heaves a dramatic sigh and places his hands on his hips. "Even for someone as amazing as I am, it’d be an impossible feat to check on Sukuna’s health if he refuses to calm down long enough for me to take a proper examination." A pause. "Well, perhaps not impossible—I am me, after all—but it’s definitely going to require more effort than I’m willing to expend."
Was there truly nothing they could do? Yuuji bites his lower lip in worry.
"You know, I can’t check on him, but I think we’ve established that someone else can."
Hold on, surely Gojo wasn’t suggesting…
"What do you say, Yuuji? Why don’t we call Megumi up and see if there’s anything he can do to help us?" Gojo’s smile is evil incarnate. Yuuji doesn’t trust him for one second.
And yet…
It would be nice to see Fushiguro again. For Sukuna’s sake, of course! His own personal feelings have nothing to do with this. At all. This is because, as Fushiguro stated before, Yuuji really cares about his cat. Yes, he can’t afford to fail Fushiguro’s expectations now, can he? He’s just trying his best to be a good pet owner, and if seeing Fushiguro is their only solution, then, well. Sacrifices will have to be made, plain and simple.
Yuuji pretends to give it some thought, like he hadn’t already known what his answer would be from the moment Gojo suggested it. "I-I mean, sure. If, if it’s okay with you. And him."
"It’ll be more than okay! Megumi works a lot from home, so he does private check-ups all the time! In fact, why don’t I give you his number so that you can call him up right now?"
Gojo seems way too amused about all this. And any time Gojo is enthusiastic about something, it always warrants reason for concern. As if sensing his growing hesitation, Gojo adds, "Wouldn’t it also make more sense for Megumi to do the follow-up examination since he was the one who diagnosed Sukuna to begin with? He’d already be aware of the situation and will know exactly what to look for in Sukuna’s recovery."
And that does make sense, but Yuuji still can’t help feeling a little duped, regardless. Granted, most of his conversations with Gojo leave him feeling a little duped, so perhaps this was just on par for the course.
Yuuji sighs. "Yeah, okay. Let’s do it."
Despite being armed with numerous possible justifications for calling, Yuuji still feels a nerve-wracking sense of anxiety when he dials Fushiguro’s number. It only gets worse after he hears the ringtone and skyrockets when someone finally answers.
"Hello? Fushiguro speaking."
"Hey, Fushiguro! Hi! It’s me, Yuuji. I mean, Itadori. Itadori Yuuji. Yep, that’s me. Hi."
Smooth, Yuuji. Real smooth.
"Yes, I know who you are." Fushiguro’s voice is warm with thinly-veiled amusement. Yuuji simultaneously wants to float into the sky from euphoric joy and crawl into a hole so he can hide away in it for the rest of his life. It’s a very odd mix of feelings. "What can I do for you, Itadori?"
"R-Right, um, so I’m at Jujutsu Clinic right now, for the follow-up examination you suggested two weeks ago? And Sukuna isn’t behaving like, at all—he’s too riled up for Gojo-sensei to examine him properly. So I was wondering if I could maybe ask for your help with this? Please? B-Because you handled him so well last time, and Gojo-sensei said that you did private check-ups—"
"He said what now?" Fushiguro interjects, sounding peeved.
Why does it feel like Yuuji just stepped on a landmine? He swallows nervously and looks to Gojo for guidance but only receives a thumbs-up in return. Great, thanks for nothing, dude. "…He told me you did private check-ups because you work from home a lot? Um, was I wrong? Should I not have called at all?"
For the longest time, there is nothing but silence down the line. Then, it’s followed by a deep, explosive sigh that Yuuji is certain can only mark Fushiguro’s imminent rejection. But before he can stammer out any apologies, Fushiguro says, "No, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it. I’ll take a look at Sukuna for you."
"Really? Oh my gosh, thank you so much, Fushiguro, you’re the best—"
"B-But you’ll have to come over," Fushiguro interrupts again, "to me. I mean, to my place. Because I can’t go up there. To you."
He seems oddly flustered. Yuuji hopes that he hadn’t overstepped any boundaries and made Fushiguro uncomfortable in the process.
"Sure, no problem! What’s your address?"
As Fushiguro proceeds to rattle off a location, Yuuji can feel his brows slowly rising to his hairline in amazement. Damn, that’s one nice part of town. Though he supposes he shouldn’t expect any less from a Zen’in, estranged family member or not.
"The door will be unlocked, so just let yourself in when you arrive," Fushiguro concludes. "I might be in the middle of something and won’t be able to get you."
"No worries! See you soon, Fushiguro!"
The other man mumbles out a quick goodbye and ends the call, almost as if in a rush to get away from him.
When Yuuji looks back up, he’s met with the sight of Gojo’s wide, shit-eating grin. "See, that wasn’t so bad, was it? Now you have Megumi’s number and his address! Not bad for a day’s work, wouldn’t you say? Please feel free to shower me in thanks and praises!"
Yuuji sighs. “You really are the worst sometimes, Gojo-sensei.”
“How could you say that to someone who only has your best interests at heart, Yuuji! You should be ashamed of yourself,” Gojo gasps in faux horror, clutching at his breast like a scandalized maiden from a period piece. "But, all jokes aside, isn’t it time you got going? It wouldn’t be polite to keep Megumi waiting."
The irony of Gojo lecturing others on common courtesy isn’t lost on Yuuji, but he is right about one thing.
Yuuji has kept Fushiguro waiting for long enough.
And now it’s time to finally see him.