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The fact that Yuuji Itadori and Megumi Fushiguro liked each other was somewhat of a running joke between Satoru and Kugisaki. Like long-lost, pining lovebirds, the two boys had a tendency to stare at each other’s backs with puppy eyes—a sight that, perhaps, they didn’t think that Satoru would notice if they were covert enough.
But, then again, there was no such thing as being “too covert” in the presence of someone who was perpetually aware of everything around him, they should know that by now. Granted, a blindfold could be quite deceiving, but that didn’t excuse their rather pathetic attempts.
Satoru had to hand it to them. The only other person they’d needed to fool was Kugisaki, and she’d figured it out from day one.
It was a rather pleasant morning on one of their off days, a rare occasion to be sure. The large, floor-to-ceiling, glass doors were cast wide open, the screens whistling quietly in the mountain breeze. Blue skies formed a beautiful, blue halo above the exterior gardens, a gorgeous canvas bearing distant, pale tufts of white stratus.
Slouched over the sofa as he was, Satoru leaned back and breathed deeply, drinking in the crisp scent of dew and flowers in full bloom. As he moved, his rounded sunglasses slipped a hair lower over his nose—a minor inconvenience that he soon corrected as the sound of approaching footsteps filled the air.
The smoky, pleasant tang of coffee met Satoru’s nose as Kugisaki entered the room, clutching a steaming mug in her hand. He offered her a lazy salute.
“Morning! Happy break day, mm?”
The girl nodded in acknowledgment, then gestured over her shoulder with the mug. “I didn’t realize you were off either. I’m sure the boys will be absolutely thrilled.”
Satoru smirked.
“Good to know. They had other sorcerers take over my case. Turns out the threat wasn’t nearly as serious as they anticipated.” He leaned back and sighed dramatically. “You should all be more grateful, at least you’re not stuck with the old hag from Kyoto, talk about someone who only gives his first years the boring stuff.”
Kugisaki coughed slightly and shook her head. “Uh—Right.”
From the kitchen, there came the low hum of the coffee machine. Clearly, one of the boys had awakened and was up and about. Satoru would bet money on it being Yuuji. Megumi might be all up tight and righteous, but the boy tended to sleep like a rock and drag for the first half of the day.
Kugisaki, following his gaze, suddenly broke out into a wide grin. Seemingly energized, she swung herself around the adjacent couch and leaned closer to Satoru.
“Well, at least you’ll get caught up on the latest… ahem .” She stifled a laugh. “Well, you know.”
Satoru sat up, intrigued. “How bad is it?”
“Oho, it’s pretty bad. Just you wait. Way worse than last time.”
“I didn’t know that it could get worse.”
Kugisaki’s eyes glittered as she leaned closer. “God knows why, but recently Yuuji has started waltzing around shirtless when he’s tired after assignments. You’d think Fushiguro would faint—actually I’m quite amazed it hasn’t happened yet.”
“Well now, you gotta give Megumi some credit. Yuuji certainly seems not to have noticed. One would think fainting would be a tad obvious.”
Kugisaki pinched the bridge of her nose. “I wouldn’t put it that way, but… sure?”
“So—I guess the next question is what are we going to do about it?”
“Wow, okay. Why does the fact that you want to get involved not surprise me?. No ideas over here.”
Satoru laced his fingers in front of his chin. There was always the option of taking drastic action, but somehow making the two boys perfect the art of underwater combat didn’t feel right for a day off…
His eyes fell on a sweatshirt lying on the opposite side of the room.
“Hmm.”
Fushiguro dragged himself into the living room, hunched and sore from the previous day’s mission. A mild headache throbbed about his head, a discomfort only made significantly worse by the blinding rays of light that filled the room.
Groaning, he rubbed his eyes. He looked like hell, that much he knew even without looking in the damn mirror to know it. More than anything, he needed breakfast and caffeine, something to get him moving.
Someone bumped into him and he caught a flash of auburn hair.
Kugisaki.
“Morning,” he grumbled, “I hope that we don’t have to deal with Go—”
He was interrupted by Kugisaki’s soft laughter and the feeling of something large and fuzzy being abruptly shoved down over his head.
“Put it on, c’mon,” she quipped, “late risers get the special sweatshirt. Now let’s get moving.”
“Nnngh.” Unwilling to wear whatever it was she was trying to force him into, Fushiguro attempted to push the fabric off of him.
Kugisaki, however, was persistent.
“You won’t regret it. Gotta get you two talking somehow , right?”
The girl took hold of the fabric and pulled, succeeding in getting the collar down over Fushiguro’s face.
“What—” He tried, but she shushed him and very neatly adjusted the sleeves, taking advantage of his hesitation.
The sound of approaching footsteps echoed in the room and she swore under her breath.
Confused, he watched her hastily exit out into the garden, offering a final, lazy salute as she slid the screen door closed. Behind her, he could see Gojo-sensei retreating from view, an evil grin plastered on his face.
“Hey!” Fushiguro made to pursue them, but froze as a new presence filled the room.
Heart pounding, already fighting to suppress the stupid blush that threatened to creep up onto his face, Fushiguro slowly turned around.
Yuuji dropped the coffee mug he’d been holding in his hand. The ceramic shattered on impact with the floor, spilling its contents everywhere.
“Uhh—” Fushiguro grimaced. “Hello.”
He winced at his voice—at how dumb he sounded.
“Why—sweatshirt—you?” Yuuji visibly shook himself and rubbed the back of his neck, sheepish. “Erhm, you look good, Fushiguro. Good morning. Nice… shirt.”
The blush Fushiguro had been working so hard to stop, blossomed across his face as he looked down.
Oh.
Oh.
He was going to kill those two.