Chapter Text
Megumi feels like the oldest eighteen year-old alive when he sees students his own age messing around the lab, and his first thought is: damned teenagers. To be fair, they’re messing with some serious lab equipment, picking up beakers and vials at random and poking intrusive little fingers into what could be water or acid, they’re probably going to give themselves severe alkali burns, and Worst Professor Ever Gojo Satoru isn’t paying attention, just leading the high school students through his place of work at the university without a care in the world, as if he’s never heard the two words “lab” and “safety” uttered in the same sentence in his entire life.
“And now, the genetics lab!” Gojo announces, herding the mindless sheep to surely inevitable slaughter. They slowly pass through the maze of plates and pipettes and Eppendorf tubes that Megumi’s already familiar with, having come to Gojo’s place of work plenty of times. Students reach out to explore the microscopes and the various heavy duty computers that they pass, and Megumi has to clamp his teeth together to hold back from delivering what could either turn out to be a warning shout, which risks drawing one of them into a conversation, or a sucker-punch to the gut. He’s not sure which he would regret more.
“My personal work is in the physics department, but I do some work in genetics as well.” Gojo sweeps his arms grandly around the room. “This lab here is owned by the Gojo family. We’re currently conducting research on the Hexophthalma Spider— also known as the Six Eyes Spider,” he says with an enigmatic smile.
“Gross, look at the lizards!” Several students crowd around a tank and smear their fingerprints across the glass as they point out the small green lizards inside.
“Those same lizards were raised by our very own supervillain alumnus, Doctor Draco! The rest of our faculty might try to keep his origins all hush-hush, but why cover up our legacy? As they say, any press is good press!”
The students ooh and ahh at Gojo’s words, which actually aren’t a lie. Last month’s supervillain psycho on the loose was indeed Doctor Draco, who Megumi used to receive candy from during his visits as a kid. The thought creeps him out to no end, now.
As the students bustle about, exploring the lab, Megumi watches them from the back of the group. He doesn’t know any of the students. He already finished up all his classes at his own school ahead of time, already suffered through college exams and received several acceptance letters, including one to Jujutsu College— Gojo’s place of work— but despite numerous protests and increasingly violent threats, he was dragged here by Gojo, who apparently couldn’t let Megumi just lounge around at home listening to music in peace while enjoying the brief freedom of graduation. Gojo had suggested Megumi “come by the ol’ lab” to “get a good look at his future study grounds,” and now Megumi is subjected to watching this incoming trainwreck of a field trip go down.
So, no. Megumi doesn’t know any of the students on this field trip. He doesn’t know what school they’re from— definitely not one from Tokyo, from the look of some of these country bumpkins. But he does know that they’re going to seriously fuck something up if no one steps in to take charge.
“Come along, children!” Gojo calls out over the mass of shorter teenagers once they’ve finished looking through the genetics lab. He sticks out like the Skytree with his ridiculously tall frame and shock of white hair. “Let’s go mess with the Biochemistry department, shall we?” And he cheerfully strolls into the next lab— which he shouldn’t even have access to— without bothering to check if anyone is following along behind him.
Megumi trails haplessly after the group of students, who chatter distractedly and shuffle after their cracked out tour guide with all the energy of a group of teenagers on a field trip they’ll have forgotten by tomorrow. Well, maybe not forgotten entirely. One particularly giggly group of girls follows closely behind Gojo with a keen interest in their eyes that probably has less to do with anything science-related and more to do with the tight fit of Gojo’s slacks and the several buttons left undone on his shirt, much to Megumi’s mortification. Even the teacher— a sharply dressed middle-aged woman with her silver hair slicked back in a bun— has lost all sense about her and is gazing up at Gojo like he’s a hero climbed straight out of a romance novel.
Just kill me now, Megumi thinks.
As the class files out, he lingers in his heavy, gloomy thoughts for a few extra seconds until a clink catches his attention. The sudden sound is followed by a loud, unrestrained laugh, and Megumi turns to see three of the students hanging back, poking at a tray of dead frogs waiting for dissection.
There’s two guys and a girl. All the students are dressed in their drab school uniforms, but one of the guys in this trio is wearing a bright yellow hoodie and jeans, and his hair is bright pink. Megumi’s senses go on higher alert. That’s never a sign of a good, studious scholar.
As Megumi watches warily, the girl looms over and stares closely at the frogs, before tapping the tray as if the dead reptiles are going to hop into position for a quick dance number. The two guys guffaw like there could be nothing funnier as she slowly begins to lift the tray curiously.
Damned teenagers, he thinks again.
“Don’t touch that,” Megumi barks, making all three of them jump.
“Eek!” The girl drops the tray with a clatter.
One of the guys bursts out laughing at her startled face, while the other guy— the one in the yellow hoodie— turns around. Light brown eyes flicker towards Megumi.
When their stares suddenly collide, Megumi jolts a little. It’s almost as if he’s been zapped, and his heart stutters in his chest, struggling to find its normal rhythm.
There’s nothing special about the guy. He’s average-looking, bearing a nondescript face and a slightly guileless expression that could be considered friendly, if a bit goofy. He’s about Megumi’s height but with more of an athlete’s build— still thin like he has yet to grow into himself— and his tanned skin indicates a good amount of time spent outdoors. As his warm brown eyes meet Megumi’s, Megumi immediately decides that he doesn’t like this guy. The obnoxious, bright pink hair doesn’t help Megumi’s opinion of him in the slightest.
“Hey!” the guy says. A big, stupid smile stretches across his face. “Who’re you? You’re not a classmate.”
Megumi’s brows draw together as his expression pinches with distaste. He hadn’t wanted to talk to anybody and look where that got him.
“I’m the person trying to keep a few idiots from blowing themselves up. Don’t touch that!” The last part he directs towards the other, bigger-looking guy who’s just grabbed a centrifuge tube.
“Do you work here?” Yellow Hoodie guy asks.
“No.”
Megumi looks towards Gojo and his group, but they’ve all moved on to the biochemistry lab. Not that that shitty excuse for a teacher would be of any help.
Megumi can only hope that no one suspects they might be related.
Which we’re not, he reminds himself.
“You look my age,” the guy is saying. “How old are you?”
Megumi tears his eyes away from the door and glares towards the bigger guy still touching the centrifuge tube. He doesn’t need to repeat himself. One look, and the guy quickly drops it like it’s turned molten.
“What’s your name?” Yellow Hoodie asks, still staring at Megumi.
“Oh, my god, check out these spiders!” crows the girl from several feet away.
“Can you just stay with the group?” Megumi asks angrily.
“My brother used to have a pet spider,” the big guy says.
Yellow Hoodie guy steps directly into Megumi’s line of sight, blocking the sight of the two others. “You’re not really chatty, are you? You know, some people might call you kind of rude.” Despite his words, he’s smiling like he and Megumi are old friends. “I’m Itadori Yuuji. I’m from Sendai. Do you live here in Tokyo? It’s such a cool place, right? You guys have supervillains and heroes here!”
Megumi frowns, trying to look away from that overly friendly face. “I’m not here to make friends. I don’t know any of you. And I’m not the one on a field trip and meant to be paying attention. Get out.”
Itadori huffs out a laugh. “Wow, you’re like one of the hall monitors at my school! So strict. I’ll bet you’re, like, the class president or something. Or like, really close with the school’s president!”
I once punched my middle school’s president in the face. Does that count? But Megumi doesn’t have the time to think on it too deeply, because while he was distracted by Itadori, the other two slipped away and managed to pry the lid encasing the top of the spider tank off.
“Eeeeek, gross!” the girl squeals. Then, eyes alight: “I dare you to touch one.”
Somehow, the two missed the large “DANGER: RADIOACTIVE MATERIAL— DO NOT TOUCH” sign.
This generation will be the end of us, Megumi thinks.
And then his heart is leaping in his throat as he yells, “That’s dangerous! Don’t touch those!” He lunges forward to stop them.
But before he even reaches them, Itadori is there, reaching inside and yanking the other guy’s hand out of the tank, then pushing him forcefully away. The two lose their momentum and pitch backwards onto a go-cart, which sweeps out from underneath them, sending its contents flying. Papers and beakers go tumbling everywhere.
As he falls onto the ground, Itadori hisses in pain. “Ow!”
Megumi runs over and quickly shoves the lid back down over the arachnid enclosure. Livid, breathing hard, he turns to the two idiots on the ground. They seem unhurt and mostly just look stunned, at least.
“Are you two stupid? This isn’t a playroom, it’s a lab! Quit messing around!”
“Jeez, it can’t be that serious,” the girl mutters, standing with her arms crossed. Her lips jut out in a pout.
Megumi turns his glare on her. “These are specimens for important and classified genetic testing, which have been imbued with highly radioactive, highly dangerous material that even I don’t completely understand.” His gaze hardens, and he feels like he’s back in middle school, ordering some jokester to return another kid’s bento. “These particular spiders are in possession of a venom with severe dermonecrotic effects. It could be a matter of life or death. You think this isn’t serious?”
He stares the girl down, unrelenting, and he can feel all three pairs of eyes like a physical brand on his skin, stares locked on him in stunned silence. The girl blinks at him in shock.
Unexpectedly, her cheeks turn pink.
Huh? What does that mean?
“Okay, okay, let’s get outta here.” The girl looks properly rattled by the small commotion and makes a beeline for the door that the rest of the class has disappeared through. The big guy follows, but Itadori hangs back, hovering a bit awkwardly next to Megumi.
“You’re, like, really smart, huh?”
Megumi throws a castigating stare over at him, and the guy flinches. He rubs the back of his head.
“Yeah, I’m not the brightest. I’ve been told a couple hundred times or so. Anyway, is this a bad time to say I think I’ve been bit?”
Megumi blanches.
Itadori lifts the hand rubbing his head to show an angry red welt on his palm, which is quickly swelling up before their eyes. “Haha.”
Haha?!
“What the fuck,” Megumi breathes. “What the fuck.”
Itadori shrugs, like Oh, well, what can you do. “It can’t be that bad, right? I feel okay. I think.”
Megumi stares straight into those light brown eyes to make sure that this blockhead understands properly what has just gone down. “Itadori Yuuji. Those Six Eye spiders are a rare species, highly venomous all on their own, and they’ve been imbued with unknown amounts of radioactive material and injected with all sorts of other undisclosed test drugs.” He stares incredulously, eyes unblinking as if Itadori is about to keel over. Which he just might. “I should call Gojo.”
“Is it that serious?” Itadori wonders. He seems awfully cavalier about his life hanging in the balance. His face twists as he considers the situation. “It can’t be that serious.”
“It is that serious.”
“Then shouldn't there be, like, guards manning the entrances? Security? Kinda lax in the security around here.”
“It's a lab, not a prison block!” Megumi shouts. He can’t remember the last time he raised his voice. “Most people here know to keep their hands to themselves!”
Itadori shrugs, and he really does seem alright. While he watches Megumi organize the scattered lab materials, he doesn’t fall unconscious or start foaming at the mouth, and he refuses to allow Megumi to call for any kind of help.
“I just really hate ambulances. And hospitals,” he explains after Megumi suggests calling paramedics to look him over for the fourth time.
Megumi doesn’t ask, and Itadori doesn’t elaborate, and despite his reservations, he drops the subject entirely.
“You’re sure you feel okay?” Megumi asks once more. He might be staring at Itadori in amazement. Was the guy built like Rasputin or something? Maybe he wasn’t actually bitten at all, and the swelling on his hand is just from a little scrape.
Itadori smiles, and it’s oddly reassuring. His face is so open and his demeanor so easygoing that Megumi can’t help but feel at ease around the stranger, and it’s such a foreign sensation that Megumi’s defenses go right back up. He looks away from that bright smile, squinting as if he’s been staring into the sun too long.
“You should go rejoin your class,” Megumi says, speaking to the counter next to him.
“Oh… You’re not coming?”
“I don’t need a tour. I already know this place too well.”
Itadori ducks into his line of sight and Megumi looks away again. There’s something far too enticing about that gaze. “Does that mean you’ll be attending Jujutsu College too? I think I’m definitely coming here. You’re still a student, right? You’re wearing a school uniform.”
Megumi begins fidgeting with the cuff of his sleeve. He automatically put on his school uniform when he went out today, despite classes being over for him. Although with spring rolling in and bringing with it warmer, sunnier days, he left behind his black outer coat that morning. This might be the last time he wears his school uniform, Megumi realizes. There’s no dress code in college. His stomach tightens with nerves.
He looks up when he feels a hand on his arm.
“You good, man?”
The hand on his arm feels like a brand, the warmth seeping in through the thin cotton of his shirt. He quickly pulls away. “I’ve got other colleges lined up,” he replies. “I’ll be leaving now.”
As he turns to go, a hand pulls on his sleeve. “Wait! I didn’t get your name.”
“You don’t need my name.” The response is automatic and possibly rude, but the words are already out, and Megumi can’t take them back.
Inexplicably, Itadori laughs. “Thanks for trying to save my life, then, Mystery Lab Guy.”
“Trying?” Mystery Lab Guy?
Itadori shrugged. “You did your best. If I keel over later, it’s not your fault.”
“Please go see a doctor.”
He winks. “Sure.”
“I’m serious.”
“You got it.” Wink.
“Just get that bite checked out by a professional, okay?”
Itadori laughs. “Sure, mom.”
Megumi glares, but Itadori’s still smiling, undeterred. “Next time, I’ll save your life, ‘kay?” he says with a playful glint in his eye.
“I think it would be best if neither of us puts our lives on the line, Itadori Yuuji.”
Itadori does finger guns, then turns to go, but before he can reach the door, Megumi blurts out:
“Fushiguro Megumi.”
Itadori wheels around on one red sneaker. “What was that?”
Megumi can feel his face heating up. Why is he being so dumb? They’re never going to see each other again. “My name.”
Slowly, a smile stretches across Itadori’s face. “Megumi. Cute.”
And then he’s gone from the genetics lab, leaving Megumi floundering about in thoughts of Why am I so flustered? and Fuck, I hope he doesn’t die, and He thinks my name is cute? It’s way too loud in his brain, but the normally far more vocal cynical part of him is oddly quiet when Megumi suddenly thinks:
I hope I see him again.
* * *
“What’s gotten into you? You’re gloomier and broodier than usual.”
Megumi glares up at Gojo, who’s looming over Megumi and his basic breakfast of white rice and miso soup, and doesn’t say anything.
Gojo peers down at Megumi from beneath a dark pair of shades that he wears even inside because of his “sensitive eyes.” Despite many years living together, Megumi still believes Gojo only wears them because he thinks they look cool. “No, seriously. Isn’t he gloomier than usual? Hey, Suguru. Don’t you think? Look at that sullen little face.” Gojo turns around to address the dark-haired man sitting across from them in yesterday’s business casual wear, his maybe-boyfriend Geto Suguru, who of course is having breakfast at their house despite not technically living here.
Geto flicks a long strand of black hair over his shoulder and opens the newspaper, perusing its contents as he sips on a coffee. It’s Geto’s own coffee that he brings over. Gojo’s not allowed to have any caffeine. “Satoru, leave him alone. He’s gonna throw miso soup on you again.”
Dragging a protective hand down the front of his pristine button-up, Gojo glares down at Megumi, who takes a slow bite of his rice without looking at either one of these annoyances trying to ruin his last few weeks of vacation before starting university. “You know, when I took in an unruly first-grader and his kind older sister, I figured we’d all eventually learn how to get along. But now your sister’s off in Kyoto and neither one of you want to take my classes. Tsumiki’s gone and now Megumi wants to leave me too! Soon you’ll be moving away for school and I’ll be left all by my lonesome after being abandoned by my ungrateful kids, and I’ll be left to wonder: What was it all for? ”
“You won’t be alone,” Megumi snaps. “You have a boyfriend, who is over way too often, which makes me wonder what sort of job he has, but I’m sure you’ll refuse to answer anyway.” He glares at the two adults. “Just get married already.”
This leads to a great deal of spluttering between the two grown-ass men in the kitchen, as Geto chokes on his coffee and Gojo straightens and begins rubbing the back of his platinum white hair nervously while muttering something like, “He’s not my boyfriend…”
Megumi rubs his forehead, eyes squeezing shut. He doesn’t usually talk this much in the morning, and it’s already wearing him out. “Jeez. For everyone’s sake, can you both get your shit together?”
“How dare you, young man—”
“You need to define the relationship,” Megumi intones, speaking over Gojo’s protests. He can’t believe he’s even saying this right now, but with Tsumiki gone, someone has to. “You’re basically married already, just get it over with.”
Gojo’s mouth falls open, and his gaze flickers over to Geto, who snorts lightly and picks his newspaper back up, as if he isn’t a part of this conversation anymore. But when Gojo doesn’t protest again, Geto lowers the newspaper with one eyebrow raised. His expression softens as he meets Gojo’s stare. The two gaze at each other for an uncomfortably long amount of time until Megumi rolls his eyes and orders them to get a room.
It hurts a little knowing that Tsumiki being here would help erase the feel of being a third-wheel. Things feel so…lopsided now. But Megumi has not been dwelling on that fact at all.
Gojo clears his throat before turning back to Megumi. “Alright, back to you. This isn’t about me. Although most of the time, things are about me. Just not this time.”
Megumi polishes off the last of his soup. “Maybe this is why I wanna move out.”
Gojo puts a hand to his chest, looking affronted. “How could you possibly say that? Is this not a perfect, loving home?”
Megumi’s eyes slide over to Geto, who’s pretending not to watch them over his coffee. He’s definitely already polished off the mug and only acting like he’s still occupied drinking. “A perfect home doesn’t have two grown men sneaking in and out at midnight as if I don’t know what they’re up to.” He gets up and tosses his soup bowl in the sink, ignoring Gojo’s spluttering protests, before turning to meet Geto’s carefully neutral expression. “Just move in already. This is stupid.”
A small smile tugs at the corner of Geto’s lips.
“Anyway,” Megumi continues, “about the college stuff. I met someone the other day.”
This has the unintended effect of setting off both of the supposed adults in the room. Gojo slams his hands down on the table with a “WHAT?!” and Geto bursts out laughing loudly while Gojo begins an entire raving speech about his little boy being all grown up.
“I never thought this day would come. I thought there might be something wrong with you. He’s probably just closeted, Suguru kept telling me.” Geto whips the newspaper back up over his face at that. “I couldn’t understand why you never once dated a single person ever, and I wondered if it was my fault. Where did I go wrong? I thought every night. What’s wrong with my boy? ” Gojo wipes an imaginary tear from his eye. “Ah, I’m so relieved. And so proud!” He leaps up to grab Megumi by the shoulders. “What’s their name?! Is it a boyfriend? Girlfriend? Either is fine! Seriously! As long as they’re good enough for my little boy!” He grabs Megumi around the head and begins squeezing the life out of him.
Megumi quickly squirms out of his hold and shoves Gojo’s face away. “Shut up! That’s not what I’m talking about.”
Gojo’s rambling comes, blessedly, to an end. Which is good because Megumi was seriously ready to punch him. Gojo once again opens his big mouth, but Megumi beats him to it.
“I’ve decided I’m going to Jujutsu College.”
Silence reigns for a good ten seconds. Then Gojo leaps up shouting, “MEGUMIIIIIIII!!!” and Megumi can’t escape the bone-crushing hug from his overly affectionate guardian, or the light ruffling of his hair from Geto, who at this point is also like family despite a tragically stupid lack of labels between him and Gojo.
“Oh, my gosh, I’ll get to see you all the time around the college, and we can go out for lunch together every single day, and I’ll show you my work so you can follow in the footsteps of your old man, and it’ll be great! Uwaaaaaa! This is so, so, so amazing!” Gojo exclaims. “Especially because I already registered you!”
Megumi grabs the remainder of his bowl of rice and dumps it over Gojo’s head. “You what?”
Gojo shouts and releases Megumi as grains of rice tumble down from his white hair. They camouflage neatly, Megumi notes distantly, but he’s too annoyed to find the situation particularly funny. Well, it does get a bit funny when both dogs rush over and begin lapping up the rice, including the grains stuck on Gojo’s clothes. Gojo tries ineffectively to swat the dogs away. Yuki and Sekitan are pretty much entirely Megumi’s, as Gojo has never once tried to take responsibility for them since he bought them years ago and practically tossed the puppies into a young Megumi’s recalcitrant arms.
“I warned you,” Geto says lightly, brushing his own very tidy hair behind his ear. He watches Gojo’s struggle with a mischievous gleam in his dark, slanted eyes.
“Shitty little brat!” Gojo yells, ever the responsible adult. Grains of ice are falling into his eyes, and he blinks rapidly. “Ever heard of asking first, shooting later?”
“Explain yourself,” Megumi orders, voice cold.
Gojo gives his hair a vigorous shake, which serves to excite the dogs immensely, before responding. “I did it just to be safe. Registration was closing, and I didn’t want you to miss it, in case you changed your mind too late. But it all worked out in the end, right?” He grins widely.
“I hate you.”
“Weird way of saying thank you, but I’ll take it,” Gojo says with a wink.
Megumi storms out of the room, quickly followed by Yuki and Seki, but not before he hears Gojo ask Geto, “Were we ever that difficult?”
“Worse, probably,” Geto replies, a smile in his voice.
Gojo sighs. “Teenagers, man.”