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Megumi Fushiguro was what one might call an introvert.

Actually—scratch that.

If you looked up the word introvert in the dictionary, you’d probably find a picture of Megumi Fushiguro right next to it. And if you didn’t, that was only because he’d somehow avoided being photographed in the first place.

He was the quiet kid in class. The one who always sat in the back, half-hidden, as if he could blend into the wall if he tried hard enough. Expensive wireless headphones were practically glued to his ears, usually blasting Wheezer or MCR—loud enough to drown out the world, but not loud enough to completely miss when someone said his name.

Which, unfortunately, happened more often than he’d like.

Megumi didn’t talk much. Not because he couldn’t, but because he simply didn’t see the point. Conversations were exhausting. People were unpredictable. Silence, on the other hand, was reliable. His “social circle” was… limited. And by limited, that meant exactly one person: Kugisaki Nobara. Outside of Nobara, Megumi’s interactions were restricted to: His sisters—Mimiko, Nanako, and Tsumiki, (And by extension, Maki, But she is technically his aunt? Cousin?), few acquaintances he met through Nobara, and, unfortunately, certain professors.
Talking to anyone else? Rare.

Talking to anyone else by choice? Practically unheard of.

Yuuji Itadori, on the other hand, was the complete opposite.

Loud. Energetic. Chaotic.

The kind of person who could walk into a room and instantly make it feel brighter. Yuuji knew everyone—and everyone knew him. It was just how things worked. He was the captain of the school’s basketball team, a Sports Science major, and the kind of guy professors tolerated purely because he was impossible not to like. He laughed easily. Talked easily. Lived easily. At least, that’s what it looked like from the outside.

Because what most people didn’t know…

…was that Yuuji Itadori was completely, utterly, hopelessly in love.

With a boy he had never spoken to.

All he knew was that his name is Megumi Fushiguro and that he is the most handsome person Yuuji had every laid eyes on. Well, he knew a bit more... he knew that was was some sorta science major who really seemed to hate their physics teacher. But other than that? Nothing. Nada. Zip. Zilch. Zippo.

Speaking of physics, the class had recently been told they would have a group assignment and that groups would me posted soon. And when I tell you Yuji's eyes lit up so bright the moment he saw who was in his group, I mean -you would mistake for a for the fucking sun- level of bright.

Yuuji spent the remaining forty-three minutes of class trying not to vibrate out of his skin.

Play it cool. Play it cool. You're cool. You're so cool. You're the coolest person alive. Just—don't look at him. Don't turn around. Don't—

He turned around.

Megumi was in his usual spot in the back corner, headphones firmly in place, staring at his laptop screen with the kind of intense focus usually reserved for bomb defusal. His dark hair fell across his forehead, and his expression was set in that permanent state of please leave me alone that Yuuji found devastatingly attractive.

Okay. Okay. After class. You'll talk to him after class. Like a normal person. Because you ARE a normal person. A normal person who just happens to be in a group project with the love of his life. Totally normal. Completely normal. Absolutely—

"Mr. Itadori, do you have something to add?" Gojo said, wiggling his eyebrows. It looked more funny that threating honestly...

Yuuji snapped his attention back to the professor, who was staring at him with barely concealed irritation. "Uh—no, sir. Sorry."

This was going to be a long forty-three minutes.

The second class ended, Yuuji was on his feet.

Students began packing up, the usual shuffle of laptops closing and bags zipping filling the room. Yuuji watched as Megumi stood, slinging his backpack over one shoulder with practiced efficiency, headphones still firmly in place.

Now. Go now. Before he leaves. Before you lose your chance. Before—

Yuuji's legs carried him toward the back of the classroom before his brain could fully catch up.

"Hey!" he said, probably too loud, definitely too enthusiastic.

Megumi didn't react. Because of course he didn't. Because his headphones were on and he was already halfway to the door and—

Yuuji reached out, fingers barely grazing Megumi's sleeve.

Megumi stopped. His shoulders tensed slightly—the universal body language for oh god, what now—before he turned. Slowly—painfully slowly—he pulled one side of his headphones off his ear.

Up close, he was even more devastatingly beautiful. Sharp green eyes, currently narrowed in what could only be described as active irritation. A slight furrow between his brows. The kind of face that said this better be important.

"...Yes?" Megumi's voice was flat, clipped. The vocal equivalent of a closed door.

"Uh," Yuuji said, eloquently. "Hi! I'm Yuuji. Itadori. Yuuji Itadori. We're—we're in the same group. For the project. The physics project. That we just—that was just assigned. So, uh—"

"I know." Megumi's expression didn't change. "You're the guy who kept turning around during lecture."

Oh god. He noticed. He NOTICED.

"I wasn't—I mean, I was just—" Yuuji could feel his face heating up. "I was just, you know, stretching my neck? It gets stiff when I sit too long, and I play basketball so I have to be really careful about my posture and—"

"Right." Megumi's tone suggested he believed absolutely none of that. He shifted his weight, clearly ready to leave. "Was there something you needed, or...?"

"Numbers!" Yuuji blurted out. "I mean—your number. For the project. To coordinate. Because we're in a group and we'll need to, like, meet up and stuff, and I figured it would be easier if we could text instead of, I don't know, sending carrier pigeons or—" Shut up shut up shut up—

Megumi stared at him for a long moment, and Yuuji watched something that might have been resignation flicker across his face. He let out a small sigh through his nose—the kind of sigh that said I can't believe I have to deal with this—and pulled out his phone.

"Fine. What's your number?"

Yuuji rattled it off, probably too fast, definitely stumbling over the digits at least once. Megumi typed with his thumbs, his expression suggesting this was the most tedious thing he'd done all day.

Yuuji's phone buzzed. He looked down at the screen.

Unknown Number: This is Fushiguro.

Short. Efficient. Completely devoid of personality. It was perfect.

"Got it!" Yuuji said, immediately saving the contact with shaking fingers. "So I was thinking maybe we could meet up sometime this week? Like, at the library? Or a coffee shop? Do you like coffee? I mean, everyone likes coffee, right? Unless you're more of a tea person, which is totally cool too, I'm not judging—"

"I'll check my schedule," Megumi interrupted, already putting his headphone back on. "Text me."

"Right! Yeah! I'll text you! Definitely! Probably tonight? Or is tonight too soon? I don't want to seem too eager or anything, not that I'm eager, I'm just, you know, responsible about group projects because I take my academics very seriously even though I'm a Sports Science major and people think that's not a real major but it totally is and umm bye?" Yuuji is going insane.

"Bye." The next thing yuuji saw was that Megumi was already walking away. What he didnt see was the smaile smile tugging on the raven haired boys lips.

"—okay cool talk to you later bye!" Yuuji finished lamely, watching Megumi's retreating back disappear into the hallway crowd.

He stood there for a moment, phone clutched in his hand, grinning like an absolute idiot.

He had Megumi Fushiguro's phone number.

Holy shit.

The basketball gymnasium was exactly where Yuuji needed to be—loud, chaotic, and full of people who wouldn't judge him for the absolutely unhinged energy currently coursing through his veins. Well, they would judge him, but at least they'd do it with love.

The late afternoon sun streamed through the high windows, casting long golden rectangles across the polished hardwood floor. The air was thick with the familiar scent of rubber and sweat, that particular gymnasium musk that clung to everything—the bleachers, the walls, even the nets hanging from the hoops. Every sound echoed and multiplied: the rhythmic thump-thump-thump of basketballs hitting the court, the squeak of sneakers pivoting and cutting, the metallic clang when someone's shot hit the rim just wrong.

Yuuji burst through the double doors like he'd just won the lottery, his sneakers immediately adding to the symphony of squeaks as he practically jogged—no, bounced—toward the group shooting hoops near the far end. His heart was still hammering from the interaction with Megumi, adrenaline making his fingers tingle and his thoughts race at approximately three hundred miles per hour.

Todo was mid-shot when Yuuji entered, his muscular frame coiled and then releasing as the ball arced through the air in a perfect parabola. Swish. Nothing but net. Panda was positioned under the basket, his massive hands ready to snag the rebound that never came. Inumaki was stretching by the bleachers, one leg extended in a runner's lunge, his platinum hair catching the light. And Maki—Maki was doing some kind of aggressive dribbling drill that looked like it could legitimately take someone's head off, the ball moving so fast between her hands it was almost a blur.

"Yuuji!" Panda called out, his massive frame turning toward him with the kind of easy grace that shouldn't be possible for someone his size. "You're early. Practice doesn't start for another—"

He stopped mid-sentence, his dark eyes narrowing as he took in Yuuji's expression. The ball Todo had just shot bounced once, twice, then rolled lazily toward the sideline, completely forgotten.

"Why are you smiling like that?"

"Like what?" Yuuji tried to compose himself, schooling his features into something resembling normalcy. It didn't work. His face was apparently a betrayal of epic proportions, every emotion written across it in neon letters.

"Like you just got laid," Todo said bluntly, catching his own rebound—finally—and turning to face Yuuji with a raised eyebrow and the kind of intense stare that could probably extract confessions from hardened criminals. His tank top was already dark with sweat, muscles flexing as he held the ball against his hip. "Did you get laid?"

"What? No! I—" Yuuji's face flushed crimson, heat crawling up his neck and into his cheeks. Why is Todo like this? "I got someone's number."

The entire gym seemed to pause. The ambient noise—the distant sound of another team practicing on the far court, the hum of the ventilation system, the echo of footsteps in the hallway outside—all of it faded into background static. Even Inumaki looked up from his stretching, making an interested sound that was somewhere between a chirp and a question mark, his eyes wide and curious.

Maki stopped her drill mid-dribble, the ball bouncing once more before she caught it and held it against her hip, mirroring Todo's stance. Her expression shifted from focused to intrigued in the span of a heartbeat. "Okay, but like, whose number? Because if it's that girl from the coffee shop again, I'm going to need you to know that she has a boyfriend."

Oh god, here we go. Yuuji's internal monologue was screaming. Just tell them. It's fine. They're your friends. They won't—okay, they'll definitely judge you, but they'll do it with love, right? Right.

"It's not—no, it's not a girl," Yuuji said, and immediately regretted it because Todo's eyes went absolutely feral, lighting up with the kind of manic energy usually reserved for championship games or particularly good gossip.

"Oh shit," Todo breathed, abandoning his basketball entirely. It bounced away across the court, forgotten, as he strode over with purpose. His footsteps were heavy, deliberate, each one echoing through the gym. "Yuuji. Yuuji, no. Tell me you didn't."

"Didn't what?" Yuuji's voice came out higher than intended, almost squeaking. He could feel his palms starting to sweat. Play it cool. You can play this cool. You are the captain of the basketball team. You are cool and collected and—

"Get the number of someone you've been obsessing over for literally months without ever talking to them," Panda finished, his voice gentle but knowing, and Yuuji felt his stomach drop straight through the floor. "Because that's what your face is saying right now."

Traitor. His own face was a traitor.

"I haven't been—" Yuuji started, but Maki was already walking over, her sneakers squeaking against the polished floor with each step. Her expression was shifting from curious to something dangerously close to amused, a predatory gleam entering her eyes that Yuuji recognized from countless practices and games. It was the look she got right before she absolutely demolished someone on the court.

"Wait, wait, wait," she said, holding up one hand while the other kept the basketball tucked against her side. "Who is this mysterious person? Because I feel like I need context for whatever's about to happen here."

The gymnasium suddenly felt too warm. The afternoon sun was too bright. The echo of their voices was too loud. Yuuji could hear his own heartbeat in his ears, could feel the weight of four pairs of eyes on him, waiting.

He took a deep breath. The air tasted like rubber and anticipation.

"His name is Megumi Fushiguro."

The silence that followed was deafening. Even the ambient noise of the gymnasium seemed to fade away—the distant practice, the ventilation, everything. It was like someone had hit a mute button on the entire world. Maki's basketball slipped from her fingers, bouncing once, twice, then rolling away untouched across the hardwood with a hollow, echoing sound.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

"Oh wait," Maki said slowly, her eyes widening with each word. Her mouth opened slightly, then closed, then opened again. "You're talking about my cousin Megumi?"

Yuuji's head snapped toward her so fast he nearly gave himself whiplash, his neck cracking audibly. "Your what?"

No. No no no. This isn't happening. This cannot be happening. Of all the people in this entire university, of course—OF COURSE—

"My cousin," Maki repeated, and a wicked grin was spreading across her face like wildfire, slow and inevitable and absolutely terrifying. "Megumi Fushiguro. Tall, dark, perpetually looks like he wants to commit murder, usually has headphones on? That Megumi?"

"I—yes, but—how did I not know this?" Yuuji felt like the ground was shifting beneath his feet, like the entire gymnasium was tilting sideways. His brain was short-circuiting, trying to process this information and failing spectacularly.

"Because you've been too busy staring at him from across the physics classroom like a lovesick puppy to actually talk to any of us about him," Todo supplied helpfully, clapping Yuuji on the shoulder with enough force to make him stumble forward a step. His hand was heavy, warm, grounding. "So what happened? Did you finally work up the courage to speak actual words to him?"

The way Todo said it—actual words—made it sound like a monumental achievement. Which, to be fair, it kind of was.

"We got assigned to a group project together," Yuuji explained, the words tumbling out in a rush, tripping over each other in their eagerness to escape. "And I had to talk to him after class, and he was so—I mean, he barely said anything, but he listened, you know? Like actually listened, not just waiting for his turn to talk, and then I asked for his number for the project and he just gave it to me, and it was so efficient, like 'This is Fushiguro,' and I saved it and—"

"Hold on," Panda interrupted, his massive hand raised like a stop sign. His expression was somewhere between amused and concerned, like he was watching a car crash in slow motion and couldn't decide whether to laugh or call for help. "He texted you back already?"

"No, I mean, he just said his name. When I asked for his number." Yuuji was gesturing wildly now, his hands moving through the air as if he could physically illustrate the interaction. "He said 'This is Fushiguro' and then he put his headphones back on and walked away, but—"

"But nothing," Maki said, her grin somehow getting even wider, showing teeth. She looked like a shark that had just spotted blood in the water. "That's literally the most Megumi response possible. He probably thought you were annoying."

The words hit like a punch to the gut. Annoying. He thought I was annoying. Oh god, what if he did think I was annoying? What if—

"He didn't seem to think I was annoying," Yuuji protested weakly, but even he could hear how unconvincing he sounded. "He was... polite. Mostly. He told me to text him about meeting up for the project."

"Of course he did," Todo said, exchanging a look with Panda that Yuuji didn't like one bit. It was the kind of look that said they were having an entire conversation without words, and Yuuji was definitely the subject. "Because that's what you do when someone gives you their number. You text them."

"I know that," Yuuji said defensively, crossing his arms over his chest. The defensive posture made him feel about twelve years old. "I'm just trying to figure out the best time to text him. Like, is it too soon if I do it tonight? Or should I wait until tomorrow? What if he thinks I'm desperate?"

"You are desperate," Inumaki offered helpfully from his spot by the bleachers, making a sound that was definitely a laugh—something between a snort and a wheeze. His shoulders were shaking with silent mirth.

Betrayed. Betrayed by all of them.

"I'm not—okay, fine, maybe I'm a little desperate, but that's not the point," Yuuji said, running his hands through his hair and making it stick up in even more directions than usual. "The point is that I finally talked to him, and he didn't immediately reject me, and now I have his number, and I need to play this cool."

Maki picked her basketball back up, spinning it on one finger with an infuriating smirk. The ball rotated perfectly, a blur of orange and black, and Yuuji hated how effortless she made it look. "Good luck with that. Megumi's resting bitch face is basically a weapon of mass rejection. Well, that and looking perpetually unimpressed."

She's not wrong, Yuuji thought miserably. But also, rude.

"He smiled," Yuuji said suddenly, the memory hitting him like a truck, vivid and sharp and real. He could see it in his mind's eye—that tiny, almost imperceptible upturn of Megumi's lips as he walked away. "When he was walking away. I'm pretty sure he smiled. Or maybe I imagined it."

The gymnasium was quiet for a moment. Somewhere in the distance, a basketball hit the rim with a metallic clang. The ventilation system hummed. Yuuji's heart hammered against his ribs.

"You definitely imagined it," Maki said, but there was something almost fond in her voice, something softer beneath the teasing. Her expression had shifted slightly, the shark-like grin mellowing into something more genuine. "But hey, at least you got the number. That's more than you had this morning." Okkotsu offered.

"Yeah," Yuuji agreed, looking down at his phone where Megumi's contact was saved. The screen was dark, reflecting his own face back at him—flushed, disheveled, grinning like an idiot. "Yeah, I guess it is."

"Now the real question," Panda said, picking up the abandoned basketball that had rolled halfway across the court. He dribbled it once, twice, the sound echoing through the gym. Thump. Thump. "Is whether you're going to actually text him, or if you're going to spend the next three hours drafting messages and deleting them like you did with that guy from o-chem last year."

Low blow. Accurate, but low.

"I'm not going to do that," Yuuji said, but they all knew he absolutely was. The words sounded unconvincing even to his own ears.

Todo snorted, a sound of pure disbelief. "Sure you're not."

Maki laughed, a bright, sharp sound that echoed through the gymnasium and bounced off the high ceiling, multiplying until it filled the entire space. "This is going to be so entertaining. My cousin has no idea what he's in for."

Yuuji really hoped she was right about that. He pulled out his phone, staring at Megumi's contact information like it held the secrets of the universe.

Megumi Fushiguro.

Just seeing the name made his heart do something complicated in his chest.

"Alright," Todo said, clapping his hands together with a sound like a gunshot. The noise made Yuuji jump. "Enough standing around. We've got practice, and Yuuji's got a text message to overthink for the next several hours. Let's run some drills."

The team started moving, the moment breaking like a spell. Basketballs started bouncing again, sneakers started squeaking, the familiar rhythm of practice reasserting itself. But Yuuji stayed frozen for just a moment longer, phone in hand, staring at that name.

This is fine, he told himself. Everything is fine. You have his number. You can do this.

He was absolutely going to spend the next three hours drafting and deleting messages.

But for now, he had practice. And maybe—just maybe—that was enough.