“megumi-chan!! don’t fall behind!”

gojo’s voice tore through the quiet like a siren.

megumi flinched immediately, shoulders tensing and brow twitching as if the sound had physically struck him. if he had to describe it, ear-bleeding would still be the most accurate term. he exhaled slowly through his nose, already irritated before he even turned his head.

That’s when he realized that the others were further down the path and somewhere along the way he had stopped walking entirely.

megumi frowned, his gaze drifted to the side, pulled there by something that had caught his attention without him consciously noticing. just beyond the low wooden fence of someone’s garden stood a tangerine tree, its branches thick with glossy leaves dotted with bright fruit. one of the tangerines had fallen, rolling just close enough to the fence that it rested in the grass along the edge of the path.

it was perfectly intact; round, bright and glowing against the green.

megumi stared at it for a moment, then he glanced toward the quiet house behind the garden.

no movement.

his eyes returned to the fruit.

slowly, he crouched, pushing his hand through the fence just enough to reach it. the tips of his fingers brushed the warm skin of the tangerine. he hesitated there, hand hovering for a second longer than necessary.

it was ridiculous.

he had faced curses that could flatten buildings without a second thought, yet somehow picking up a fallen fruit felt like committing an actual crime.

megumi frowned at himself, grabbed the tangerine, and stood up. by the time he looked up again, the group had gotten even further ahead. he sighed, jogging after them.

his steps were quiet but quick, the tangerine resting loosely in his palm as he caught up to the others. yuji was the first to notice, glancing over casually before his attention immediately locked onto the fruit in megumi’s hand.

“huh?” yuji slowed a little, pointing. “where did you get a tangerine?”

megumi didn’t answer. instead, he pressed his thumb into the rind and pushed his nails into the skin. it split open with a soft snap, releasing a sharp mist of citrus oil that briefly hung in the air.

nobara turned around so fast it looked like she’d heard a gunshot.

“wait,” she said suspiciously, narrowing her eyes. “did you steal that from somewhere?!”

“megumi-chan has become a thief,” maki snickered from ahead, glancing back at him with clear amusement. “oh-ho.”

yuji leaned in closer, “did you actually?”

before megumi could respond, gojo slid into the conversation with dramatic timing.

“megumi!,” he announced loudly, placing a hand over his chest in mock heartbreak, “this isn’t how i raised you!”

he shook his head slowly, the picture of theatrical disappointment. “after everything… my own student… reduced to petty theft…”

“you’re being dramatic again,” maki said flatly.

“again?” gojo gasped.

megumi felt a vein pulse faintly in his forehead. “…shut up.”

he continued peeling the tangerine calmly, pulling the rind away in loose curls. the fruit separated easily in his hands, revealing the neat cluster of orange segments inside. he expected the usual sting when the juice touched the torn skin around his cuticles. instead, a warm sweetness drifted up.

he paused briefly. “…sweet,” he muttered.

“tsk,” nobara clicked her tongue immediately, crossing her arms with a scowl “didn’t even get some for us.”

beside her, inumaki nodded in quiet agreement. “shake. shake.”

the village unfolded around them in quiet, sun-warmed stillness as they walked.

narrow paths stretched between small colorful houses, their walls adorned by creeping ivy and the shadows of overhanging trees. bicycles rested against fences and porch railings. gardens spilled over their boundaries with careless abundance, patches of bright flowers, tangled greenery, and fruit trees heavy with color. somewhere nearby, the sea made its presence known even without being seen, the air carrying that faint, salty breath.

it felt slow here, quiet. the kind of place where footsteps and bicycle bells echoed more than engines ever would.

against that calm backdrop, the group from tokyo felt almost painfully loud.

the slap of flip-flops and loose sandals echoed along the path, a lazy rhythm broken constantly by the thud of bags bumping against yuji’s legs as he walked. their voices carried through the street, drifting past open windows and garden fences where a few curious locals occasionally glanced up at the commotion.

yuji groaned dramatically for what had to be the tenth time.

“why do you have to overload your bag?!” he huffed, shifting the straps digging into his shoulders. two bags hung off him awkwardly. one clearly nobara’s and the other unmistakably maki’s. “we are just going to the beach!”

nobara spun around while still walking, nearly making yuji trip as she pointed at him accusingly.

“you men only think a pair of flip-flops and your swim shorts are enough for the beach?!” she snapped. “completely wrong! going to the beach for women is a sport!”

her voice rose enough that a couple of people across the street turned their heads to look.

yuji frowned, clearly offended. “it is enough!” he argued. “the only thing i’d bring besides that is sunscreen—” he paused, thinking. “ or a shovel.”

beside him, inumaki immediately nodded with enthusiasm. “shake! shake!” he lifted his fist and bumped it against yuji’s, who grinned like he had just received the highest form of validation.

a few steps ahead, maki sighed deeply. “like children,”

megumi quietly ate another slice of his tangerine behind them, listening to the argument continue like background noise.

maki slowed slightly, glancing over her shoulder toward gojo, she raised a brow, “we are not actually here to spend a fun summer near the sea, are we?”

“we are!” gojo clasped his hands behind his head as he walked. “nanami was given the decision to go on this little vacation,” he continued with a shrug, “but he didn’t accept it.”

he paused for effect, then spread his arms wide. “but then your amazing, incredibly good-looking sensei gojo satoruuuu decided to take his vacation and generously bring all of you with him!”

“resulting in us having a wonderful summer by the sea!” he declared proudly. “aren’t I just amazing?!”

nobara immediately clasped her hands together dramatically. “thank you nanami-san for not taking the vacation!”

“oi!” gojo whined instantly, pointing at her in betrayal. “you should be thanking me!”

yuji snorted with laughter, the sound bright and unrestrained as it spilled into the open air.

the walk carried on like that for a while; with the constant rhythm of their voices. the slap of sandals against pavement mixed with bursts of giggles and playful bickering, the conversation jumping from one idea to the next without ever settling.

yuji whined loudly, tipping his head back in exaggerated suffering. “how much more?!”

gojo chuckled beside them, clearly entertained.

“i’d say,” he began casually, lifting one long finger and pointing straight down the road ahead of them, “if you made a run for it—” his finger followed the path forward between the houses. “—you’d be there in less than a minute.”

maki narrowed her eyes, leaning slightly to the side to look past one of the houses ahead. then her expression sharpened. “oh,” she said, pointing suddenly, “i can see it beyond that house!”

a faint shimmer of blue was just barely visible past the rooftops, the distant line of the sea catching the sunlight.

nobara didn’t hesitate for even a second. “last one there is a rotten egg!” she bolted forward immediately, her sandals slapping loudly against the ground as she sprinted down the path.

maki grinned. “i like the sound of that!” she took off after her, her stride quick and athletic as she easily closed the distance.

“tuna mayo!” inumaki pumped his fist into the air and darted after them with surprising speed.

behind them, yuji stared for exactly half a second before yelling in outrage. “this isn’t fair!” he shouted, already starting to run after them despite the bags swinging violently from his shoulders, thought it didn’t slow him nearly as much as it should’ve. “i’m carrying all your stuff!”

gojo laughed openly, watching the chaos unfold as the group tore down the path like a pack of overly excited children. (a/n: i love them happy, your honor.) their laughter echoing as they raced toward the faint glimpse of ocean waiting at the end of the road,

behind them, the sudden quiet felt almost unfamiliar.

megumi remained where he was, walking at the same steady pace as before, his footsteps unhurried against the path. gojo strolled beside him with the same loose ease, hands tucked into his pockets like he had nowhere else to be.

“you aren’t going to run with them?” he asked, one eyebrow lifting slightly above the edge of his glasses.

megumi didn’t even look up, he simply shook his head once.

gojo hummed thoughtfully, “sucks to be a rotten egg.”

megumi scoffed under his breath. he lifted the last tangerine slice to his mouth and bit into it slowly, the citrus bursting sweet against his tongue. his thoughts drifting somewhere distant while the noise of the others faded further and further down the road.

he brushed the remaining threads of white pith from his fingers. “…what’s the mission?” he asked at last.

gojo’s head tilted slightly. “hm?”

his gaze shifted down toward the dark-haired boy beside him, taking in the messy spikes of hair and the thoughtful crease between his brows.

“i know you wouldn’t bring us on a vacation without an actual reason,” he said evenly. “or rather… the higher-ups wouldn’t let us go.”

they passed a small garbage can sitting near the path, its metal sides layered with faded stickers and messy graffiti left by years of bored teenagers. megumi flicked the empty tangerine peels into it, landing inside with a soft rustle.

the scent of salt hung more clearly in the air now. the ocean was close.

gojo watched the peels disappear into the bin before letting out a quiet chuckle. “you got me.”

“well,” he said finally, casual in that way that always made it hard to tell how serious he actually was, “this works out. i was planning to assign this mission to you anyway.”

megumi glanced sideways at him.

gojo tilted his head slightly, then added almost lazily “just to you.”

megumi’s steps slowed for half a beat.

“we’ve had reports about a curse whose activity suddenly spiked,” gojo continued as they walked. “looks like it manifested sometime within the last few months. before that, nothing. no incidents, no disturbances, no signs.”

megumi’s brows knit slightly. “what kind of spike?”

“some kind of cursed illness.”

megumi’s breath caught.

“ah.”

the sound slipped out of him before he could stop it, quiet but sharp. he swallowed, throat suddenly dry. cursed illness. the phrase pressed somewhere deeper than it should have, dragging up a familiar knot that had never really loosened.

tsumiki.

the memory of her pale face in the hospital bed flickered across his mind without permission. the unnatural sleep she hadn’t woken from, the doctors’ useless explanations, the quiet suspicion he’d never voiced out loud.

gojo glanced at him from the corner of his eye, catching the subtle tighten in megumi’s jaw. the corner of his mouth lifted into a small, knowing smirk as he reached out and ruffled megumi’s already unruly hair with easy familiarity.

“i’m trusting you with this one,” he said lightly. “so take care of it, yeah?”

then he stepped ahead, his longer stride carrying him forward like the conversation had already been neatly wrapped up.

megumi stayed where he was for a moment longer than necessary. the faint scent of citrus still clung to his fingers, the breeze carrying the distant breath of the sea toward them.

something settled quietly in his chest.

he didn’t say anything about it.

“i’m going into town to buy something to drink,” megumi called out as he stepped out of the water, brushing wet strands of hair away from his face. each drop struck the hot sand with a soft pat before vanishing almost instantly beneath the afternoon heat. “anyone want anything?”

behind him, yuji was still waist-deep in the water, breathing hard and grinning like he’d just won a championship match. “you gave up already?” he shouted. “i thought you were getting serious!”

megumi glanced back at him flatly. “you’re splashing like a toddler.”

yuji gasped in mock offense, already preparing another handful of water to launch in retaliation, but toge pulled itadori into the water by his neck.

megumi crossed the sand toward the cluster of towels where the girls had claimed their spot, the grains warm and fine beneath his feet. maki and nobara were stretched out comfortably, soaking in the sun as though they had absolutely no intention of moving for the rest of the day. megumi crouched beside his bag, unzipping it to retrieve his wallet— well, technically gojo’s wallet.

“i want a lemonade,” maki said without opening her eyes, one arm draped lazily across her forehead.

“me too,” nobara added immediately from beside her, sunglasses perched neatly over her nose and a wide straw hat casting shade across her face. “extra icy.”

megumi hummed in acknowledgment as he stood, a few stubborn droplets from his hair slipped free and landed on the edge of nobara’s towel.

“hey!” she hissed, jerking the towel away from the offending moisture. “watch it!”

megumi didn’t bother apologizing. he simply grabbed his sand-coated flip-flops, slipping them on as the warm rubber pressed into the soles of his feet, and started off toward the path leading back into town.

gojo had vaguely pointed in the direction of the market earlier.‘somewhere that way!’ he’d said, waving a hand.

the path leading there was quieter than the beach, winding gently between clusters of trees and thick greenery that leaned inward as if trying to meet over the road. leaves shifted lazily in the breeze, scattering patches of sunlight that danced across the ground beneath megumi’s feet.

the shade was immediate relief after the open heat of the shore.

somewhere above him, birds chirped lazily between branches, their calls echoing softly through the leaves. the air smelled different here too; less salt, more earth and greenery, the faint sweetness of fruit trees lingering somewhere deeper in the village.

megumi walked slowly, hands tucked into the pockets of his shorts as his flip-flops slapped lightly against the ground.

it was peaceful in a way tokyo never was.

his thoughts drifted easily in the quiet, eventually circling back to the real problem at hand. ‘extra icy.’ megumi frowned. how exactly was he supposed to bring two “extra icy” lemonades all the way back to the beach without them turning into lukewarm sugar water halfway there?

maybe they sold bottled ones.

he turned a corner where the path narrowed slightly, the shade deepened there, leaves whispering softly against each other while the breeze carried the distant hum of cicadas. the calm almost made him close his eyes. and for a brief second, he did— just long enough to enjoy the cool shade and the quiet rustle of greenery around him.

“WATCH OOOOUT!”

huh?

before the word even fully registered, something slammed straight into his chest.

the impact knocked the breath from his lungs as a sharp ring-ring! of a bicycle bell exploded in the air. megumi staggered backward instinctively, his feet sliding against the path as he absorbed most of the force, but momentum still sent him falling, his tailbone protesting immediately.

for a moment, the leaves above him swayed lazily against the bright sky, their edges glowing softly where the sunlight slipped through them. the metallic rattle of a fallen bicycle settled against the quiet of the path and some small objects bounced along the ground.

megumi squinting slightly as he pushed himself up on his elbows, momentarily forgetting he was standing in the shade rather than the harsh glare of the open beach.

“i’m so sorry!” the voice was bright, breathless, and very close.

he looked up just in time to see a girl leaning toward him, one hand already reaching out. he took it automatically, allowing her to help pull him upright, though he didn’t put much weight into the gesture. the last thing he needed was dragging her down with him.

“it’s fine—” he began.

“it’s not!” the interruption came so quickly that megumi’s eyes widened a fraction.

“i’m so clumsy!” she continued, words tumbling out in a rush as if once they started they couldn’t possibly stop. “i always forget to ring the bell when i go down this path. it’s just—” she gestured vaguely around them with both hands, like the scenery itself was part of her defense, “it’s so nice here, you know? the trees and the shade and the way the sun comes through the leaves. i always get distracted!”

she laughed nervously, rubbing the back of her neck. “i swear i mean to signal, but then i start looking at the greenery and the wind in the branches and— well— this happens.”

she pointed at him, then the ground, and then the toppled bicycle. “it’s not even the first time i’ve hit somebody here— ha, ha…”

what is this… feeling?

megumi stood there, momentarily rooted in place, watching the girl in front of him continue her breathless explanation about leaves, sunlight, and the dangers of scenic bicycle paths. her words spilled over each other as if silence itself embarrassed her, hands moving wildly.

the warm afternoon light filtered through the canopy above them, breaking into soft fragments that shifted across her face and shoulders whenever the breeze moved the branches. it wasn’t a strong wind, just a gentle current passing through the trees. but somehow it felt like it had swept straight through megumi himself.

his mind stalled.

his throat felt dry.

the girl kept talking, completely unaware of the effect she was having. the colors she wore seemed almost chosen by the scenery around them; soft oranges and leafy greens that echoed the fruit trees and the shade overhead. when she moved, the little woven hat perched on her head wobbled slightly, the painted orange patterns catching the sunlight. and on top of it, fixed proudly like a tiny flag, was a handmade leaf stem.

megumi blinked slowly.

who the hell are you?

“you are not from here, no?” you asked suddenly, tilting your head at him with open curiosity.

megumi opened his mouth to answer.

nothing came out.

he tried again, and immediately coughed, clutching briefly at his throat like the words had gotten stuck somewhere halfway up. after a second of struggling, a hoarse reply finally slipped free.

“…no.”

you blinked.

“god, you sound terrible.”

the blunt observation landed without hesitation, and megumi felt the tips of his ears heat instantly. he looked away, scratching the back of his neck with awkward stiffness, suddenly very aware of how rough his voice had sounded.

you crouched down to gather the fallen fruit, lifting your bicycle upright again. it had a small basket attached to the back, half-filled with tangerines that glowed brightly against the woven straw.

you picked one up and turned back toward him. “here, for that sore throat!”

before megumi could react, you threw a fruit toward him. he caught it a little too quickly. fumbling the citrus before managing to steady it in his palm. staring at as if it had personally put him in this awkward situation, silently cursing himself for nearly dropping it in front of you.

‘seriously?’

a soft chuckle slipped from you as you crouched beside the bicycle, reaching down to gather the tangerines that had rolled along the path when the basket lid flipped open during the collision, when you dropped them back into the basket they made soft, hollow thuds against the others already inside.

megumi glanced down at the one in his own palm. without really thinking, he sank his nails into the rind.

the peel split open with a soft tear, releasing that same sweet citrus aroma he had noticed earlier that morning.

normally he would take his time and separate the segments, slowly pulling away the thin strands of white pith until each slice was perfectly clean. but doing that while you stood there watching felt… weird. so instead he peeled the fruit quickly, pulled apart a slice, and popped it into his mouth without bothering to remove anything.

the bitter hint of pith hit immediately, and he grimaced slightly as he chewed. it still helped his throat though.

“you eat the pith?” you asked, blinking in mild horror as you stood again. “man, i could never.”

you laughed lightly, brushing your hands against your clothes before continuing. “i mean, i could if i had to. but i like the task of picking it apart, you know? like peeling all the little white strings off one by one.”

megumi froze mid-chew.

“…i do too,” he admitted quietly after swallowing, his voice still rough but a little steadier now. “but my throat’s too dry right now… and i like tangerines no matter how i eat them.”

the words came out softer than he meant them to.

you chuckled again turning back to your bicycle rummaging through the basket for a moment, moving aside a few loose items before pulling out a small mesh bag. then you walked right back up to him and held it out. “well, in that case, here!”

you held out the bag toward him, the tangerines inside complimenting the red of strings. megumi instinctively started to shake his head. “you don’t—”

but before the protest could fully form, your hand closed around his, guiding the bag firmly into his palm. the contact was quick and warm, your fingers curling briefly over his knuckles to make sure he didn’t refuse it.

megumi’s entire body stiffened for half a second he looked like he might actually squeal.

“don’t you dare not take it!” you warned, pointing at him with exaggerated seriousness before breaking into a laugh. “i’ll curse you.”

the threat was clearly playful, your shoulders shaking slightly as you laughed. “have this as a welcoming gift to the town.”

megumi stared at the bag in his hand as if it had suddenly gained weight. after a moment, he gave a small nod.

“woah— hold on.” your tone shifted with sudden curiosity as you leaned closer, squinting slightly at his face. “did you put on any sunscreen? your face is really red.”

you pointed toward the skin beneath his eyes. “you’ll get sunburnt at this point.”

megumi instinctively raised his hand and brushed his fingers across the spot you indicated. the skin stung immediately and he hissed softly at the contact. he was already preparing to mutter something about itadori using half the bottle earlier and leaving him with barely any when—

plop.

something landed squarely on top of his head.

megumi blinked.

the faint clinking of metal and the soft crunch of gravel followed as you began wheeling your bicycle away.

he lifted a hand to his head and felt the woven texture of something unfamiliar. when he pulled it off, he found himself staring at the orange-painted hat you’d been wearing earlier. the little handmade leaf at the top wobbled gently in the breeze.

megumi turned quickly. “hey!” he called, waving it towards you. “your hat!”

“keep it for now!” you called over your shoulder, laughter bright in your voice as the bicycle bell jingled softly with the motion. “you need it more than me!”

the distance between you grew quickly as you pedaled away, your voice floated back one last time. “plus! let that be a reason for me to see you again if you want to return it!”

your giggles faded gradually into the quiet of the path, swallowed by the rustle of leaves and the soft hum of cicadas hidden somewhere in the greenery. megumi stood there for a moment longer, the hat still in his hand. the warm breeze moved through the trees again, carrying with it the scent of salt from the ocean and the lingering sweetness of freshly peeled tangerines.

later, when megumi returned to the beach, he was holding a mesh bag full of tangerines.

and absolutely no lemonade.

a few days passed after that and somehow, the hat had never left megumi’s possession.

it sat beside him when he slept, hung loosely from the strap of his bag during the day, and more often than not he found himself turning it over in his hands without even realizing it. his fingers tracing the the rough weave of the orange painted straw and the little handmade leaf that wobbled slightly whenever he tilted it.

“somebody put it on my head as a free gift,” he had said when nobara inevitably noticed it. “i left before he could scam me.” the lie had come out flat and quick.

nobara squinted at him like she didn’t buy it for a second. “who gives out free hats?”

“tourist traps,” megumi replied without missing a beat. she had clicked her tongue and dropped it soon after.

still, the hat stayed.

the days themselves passed slowly and warmly, the beach becoming their routine. mornings filled with the sound of waves folding against the shore, afternoons thick with sunlight and the constant scent of sunscreen drifting from the cluster of towels where they usually sat. somewhere in that mix, the bright sweetness of tangerines seemed to linger everywhere now.

strangely enough, megumi slept better.

for the first time in a long while, his nights passed quietly, without the usual restless dreams clawing their way into his sleep. the only thing that occasionally dragged him back to consciousness was toge’s snoring from the other side of the room. which, honestly, might have qualified as its own kind of nightmare.

today was another beach day.

but megumi wasn’t walking the path at the same relaxed pace he had before.

his steps were quicker now, his eyes drifting constantly along the edges of the road, scanning the shaded paths between houses and the narrow lanes lined with trees. the breeze shifted softly through the leaves above him, and every now and then his ears perked slightly, almost expecting to hear the faint ring of a bicycle bell.

nothing. only birds, the rustle of branches, and the distant murmur of the sea behind him.

megumi exhaled quietly and continued forward until the path widened into the town’s small square.

the market was already alive with movement.

stalls lined the open space beneath colorful cloth canopies, their tables crowded with baskets of vegetables, bundles of herbs, fresh fish resting over crushed ice, and rows of fruit that glowed like little pieces of sunlight. the air carried a mixture of scents that hit all at once; sharp green herbs, salty fish, ripe tomatoes, citrus oils, and the faint sweetness of baked bread drifting from somewhere nearby.

megumi paused for a moment, slightly overwhelmed by the sheer number of smells. he hadn’t even realized a place could smell like so many things at once.

around him, the locals moved through the square with an easy rhythm. some vendors raised their voices enthusiastically, calling out to passing customers and waving them closer to inspect their produce:

“fresh tomatoes! picked this morning!”

“best fish you’ll find this side of the coast!”

others were quieter, sitting behind their stalls with patient calm. one older woman knitted slowly beneath the shade of her umbrella, occasionally glancing up between stitches. another man leaned back in his chair reading a wrinkled magazine, pencil tapping against the page where a crossword puzzle waited half-finished.

megumi instinctively gravitated toward the quieter side of the market. he pulled the folded paper from his pocket, flattening it in one hand as he walked. nobara’s handwriting was aggressively large across the page.

‘since you forgot the ONE thing i asked you for, ‘she had snapped earlier that morning, shoving the list into his chest, ‘i’m sending you back with this. now when you mess it up again we can just blame it on you being stupid.’

he walked between the stalls, scanning the items one by one as he mentally sorted through what he needed.

then something bright caught his eye.

a small stand sat near the edge of the square, its table covered almost entirely with tangerines. piles of them filled shallow baskets, their skins glowing a rich orange beneath the sunlight that slipped between the market canopies.

megumi stopped mid-step.

then, almost without thinking, he darted straight toward it.

the small wooden stall looked almost like it had been decorated by someone who couldn’t stop thinking about tangerines. little doodles were carved and scribbled across the surface of the wood; tiny round fruits with leaves, simple smiling ones, some drawn with quick, messy lines that made them look like something a child had drawn. a few were painted in faded orange, others barely visible where the wood had been worn smooth by years of use.

for a second, he just stood there, staring at the stand and the piles of glowing fruit stacked in shallow baskets across the table. he hoped—

“oh my god, it’s you!”

the voice exploded from behind the stall before he could even finish the thought. megumi’s head jerked up, eyes widening.

there you were, popping out from behind the baskets as if you’d been waiting there the whole time, your grin stretching impossibly wide. the sunlight caught your face, lighting it up in a way that made the entire stall seem warmer, brighter, almost like the tangerines themselves had blushed.

your outfit was the same aas last time. soft oranges and greens that blended perfectly with the fruit around you. and perched atop megumi’s head was the familiar woven hat, slightly tilted from his awkward handling of it earlier.

for a heartbeat, megumi completely forgot how to speak.

“…hello.” the word came out small, clipped, and unsure. he dipped into a polite bow, clutching the bag of groceries to his chest as if it were a shield.

“i’ve come to bring you your hat back,” he added, fingers brushing the brim awkwardly, confirming it was still there.

you leaned on the stall, a soft chuckle escaping, and immediately megumi felt that familiar, strange dryness creeping into his throat, his heart thudding a little faster.

“wow,” you said lightly, tilting your head and squinting at him through the sunlight. “you were that eager to see me?”

megumi shook his head quickly. “n-no, i just—”

he stopped.

because the moment he looked up again, you had pushed your lower lip out in a exaggerated pout, eyebrows lifted as if disappointed in the world itself.

his brain short-circuited entirely. “well— i mean—” he stuttered, words tangling and tumbling over each other. “y-yeah— i mean—sure…”

the pause that followed lasted only a second, but it felt like the world had frozen around him.

then you laughed. it spilled out of you; bright, musical, completely unrestrained. and it made megumi’s chest tighten in a way he didn’t understand. your shoulders shook, your eyes twinkled, and for a moment, all he could do was watch.

“god, you are adorable!” you managed between breaths of laughter. “you should see your face.”

you dabbed at the corner of your eye with a finger as if the moment amused you as much as it terrified him.

megumi dropped his gaze instantly, the heat rushing to his cheeks. he pulled the brim of the hat down over his face, trying desperately to hide the flush, his fingers curling around the straw like it could shield him.

“please… stop it,” he muttered, voice quiet.

you inhaled slowly, trying to calm yourself. “okay, okay,” you said, still smiling as you waved your hands in surrender. “i’m sorry. i’m sorry.”

you leaned forward across the stall, reaching out toward him. megumi instinctively bent slightly so you could reach the top of his head without stretching too far. your fingers brushed lightly against his hair as you lifted the hat away, the woven straw sliding free with a soft rustle before you settled it back onto your own head. the tiny leaf at the top wobbled proudly.

“thank you very much!” you said brightly, flashing him another grin.

megumi straightened slowly. “…you’re welcome.”

the words came out softer than he intended, and for a moment the space between you filled only with the quiet rustle of the market. the distant murmur of vendors, the shifting of baskets, the faint scent of herbs and citrus drifting lazily through the warm air.

you tilted your head slightly, watching him with that same curious brightness in your eyes.

“though,” you said after a moment, resting your elbows lightly on the edge of the stall, “i am a bit sad now.”

megumi blinked.

you puffed your cheeks out in a small pout, fingers tapping against the wood covered in tiny doodled tangerines. “now we don’t really have a reason to meet again.”

megumi’s brain promptly stopped working.

“e-eh?!”

the sound escaped him before he could stop it. he quickly scratched the back of his neck, clearly scrambling for something.

“i don’t really have anything on me to give you…” he admitted awkwardly, glancing down at the bag of groceries still clutched in his hand.

you hummed thoughtfully for half a second. then your expression brightened. “well, you have your word!”

“my word?”

you chuckled lifting your hand and extending your pinky finger across the stall toward him. “just promise you’ll come see me one more time before summer ends.”

megumi stared at your pinky for a moment like it was a surprisingly serious contract. the market noise faded slightly around him, replaced by the quiet rustle of leaves somewhere beyond the square and the warm scent of fruit stacked around the stall.

after a second, he slowly raised his own hand. his pinky hooked around yours. the contact was light but deliberate, the simple gesture sealing the promise in a way that felt oddly significant.

a small smile appeared on megumi’s face before he even realized it.

you noticed immediately. and it felt like you had just won the greatest prize imaginable.

“here,” you said suddenly, pulling your hand back and turning to the baskets beside you. “before you go.”

you grabbed a mesh bag and began dropping several bright tangerines inside, the fruits landing with soft, hollow thuds before you held the bag out toward him. “for the number two tangerine lover!”

“number two?” megumi raised an eyebrow, though a quiet chuckle escaped him as he reached forward to take it. “who’s number one?”

you straightened dramatically, placing a hand over your chest with exaggerated pride. “me, of course! who else?”

“of course…” megumi shook his head lightly, the corner of his mouth lifting again.

megumi had barely adjusted the bag of tangerines in his hands when something suddenly nudged hard into his side. he shifted instinctively, stepping a half step away, and an old man pushed himself into the space beside him like he owned the ground beneath his feet. his finger shot forward immediately, pointing straight at you across the stall.

“i told you not to put your stall here. this is my spot!”

his voice cut through the gentle noise of the square, sharp and loud enough that a few nearby heads turned.

you didn’t flinch, you simply stared at him, your brows slowly knitting together while the little orange leaf on your hat wobbled slightly as you tilted your head.

megumi felt a faint tension creep up his spine. instinctively, he shifted his weight forward, the urge to step in flickering briefly in the back of his mind. but a tourist arguing with a local in the middle of a town square was a terrible idea.

before he could decide anything, you spoke.

“this isn’t anybody’s place,” you said, crossing your arms calmly over your chest. “unless you bought this exact patch of dirt, then sure, it can be yours.”

the old man’s face twisted immediately. “i fucking swear,” he spat, glaring at you with open irritation. “you’re just like your grandmother.”

your arms tightened slightly against yourself. megumi noticed it, the smallest shift in your posture, barely there but real.

the man jabbed a finger toward the stall again. “if i see you here tomorrow,” he barked, “i’ll smash this damn thing to pieces!”

for a moment, the threat hung heavy in the air. megumi’s confusion only grew when you suddenly smiled. it was bright, almost exaggeratedly cheerful as you lifted both hands in a harmless little gesture.

“alright, alright,” you said lightly, waving him off with fake patience. “no need to get so aggressive, old man!” the man muttered something under his breath, clearly a string of curses, and turned as if ready to storm away. “wait!”

your voice stopped him, he paused with visible annoyance, turning back halfway. you leaned down behind the stall, grabbed one of the bright tangerines from the basket, and held it out toward him with a wide grin. “here,” you said sweetly. “a peace offering!”

for a split second megumi thought he might slap it straight out of your hand.

his arm twitched.

but instead the man snatched the fruit roughly from your fingers, gripping it tight as if the poor thing had personally offended him. he scoffed loudly before turning again and stomping off through the square, his footsteps sharp against the stone.

megumi stood there, completely still.

did you just… curse somebody?

the evening draped itself like a soft, warm blanket. the last traces of sunlight lingering on the wooden balcony while the faint sound of waves brushed against the shore somewhere beyond the trees. gojo lounged back in his chair, legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles, sunglasses slipping slightly down his nose as he regarded the boy beside him.

megumi barely moved, elbows resting on his knees, a single tangerine turning slowly between his fingers, the only movement betraying the storm of thought inside him. his grip tightened slightly as gojo spoke:

“i got information today,” gojo said, his voice calm but carrying a quiet weight, “another person died from the illness. older male.”

megumi’s fingers clenched harder around the fruit, and gojo let his gaze linger, noting the subtle tremor that ran through his hands. he didn’t flinch, didn’t speak, but the tension in his shoulders said enough.

after a moment, gojo let out a long, soft sigh, tilting his head as he watched the sky darken, the first stars beginning to prick the dusky blue. “i know this whole mission touches a nerve for you,” he said, words measured, careful, “i didn’t give it to you to torture you.”

megumi’s hands shook slightly, and gojo’s eyes softened behind the lenses of his glasses.

“i gave it to you because i trust you,” gojo continued, letting the weight of the words hang between them. “because facing something like this… it’s not about punishment. it’s about growth. it’s about becoming the kind of person who can carry the weight, no matter how heavy it gets.”

he leaned back further, hands resting behind his head, voice steady but gentle, letting the space stretch between them.

“you can handle it,” gojo added after a pause, “and it’s exactly the kind of thing that makes you stronger as a person.”

the summer night had cooled just enough for the air to feel soft against the skin, a quiet breeze drifting in from the ocean and brushing through megumi’s hair as he walked along the empty stretch of shore. the tide rolled in slow, steady breaths, each wave pulling moonlight across the water until the sea shimmered like scattered glass beneath the pale sky.

megumi walked with his hands tucked into his pockets, head lowered, his gaze fixed on the sand at his feet rather than the wide horizon in front of him. every few steps he nudged a stray pebble forward with the tip of his sandal, letting it bounce ahead before kicking it again without really thinking about it.

his mind was somewhere else entirely.

he had to find you and execute you.

the thought sat heavily in his chest, heavy enough that even the salty night air felt difficult to breathe.

how was he supposed to do that?

the question circled endlessly in his head as the waves crept up and retreated along the shore. it wasn’t the act of killing itself that troubled him. megumi had been a sorcerer long enough to understand what needed to be done when curses were involved.

but this wasn’t simple. because the more he thought about it, the less it made sense.

did you even know you were cursing people?

he replayed the memory again, the image sharp and impossible to ignore. the moment when you had handed that tangerine to the old man in the square, smiling so brightly it almost felt ridiculous and for the briefest second, megumi had seen it.

a shadow behind your back.

something thin and writhing, like a knot of blackened roots crawling out from your spine. it had appeared only for a moment, stretching outward with the tangerine as cursed energy seeped into the fruit. then it curled back in on itself, wrapping around your body again like a second skin before vanishing completely beneath your warmth and laughter.

you hadn’t reacted.

megumi had stood there frozen, realization settling slowly and horribly in his mind. the curse wasn’t just near you. it was attached to you.

worse than that, he was almost certain the two of you were bound together. the way the cursed energy moved, the way it fed from you and returned. if he destroyed the curse directly, there was a very real chance that the backlash would take you with it.

killing the curse might mean killing you.

megumi exhaled slowly, dragging a hand through his hair. he hadn’t eaten a single tangerine you’d given him since that day. the small bag still sat in his room at the apartment, untouched.

was he afraid they were cursed too?

…no.

he didn’t think that was it.

still, every time he reached for one, something stopped him. an invisible hesitation that made him pull his hand back before the peel could even break beneath his fingers.

he kicked the pebble ahead again, watching it bounce across the damp sand. his thoughts spiraled deeper and deeper until—

a quiet sound cut through the night.

sniffling.

megumi stopped walking.

his head lifted toward the sound, eyes scanning the dim shoreline until they landed on the small wooden bench near the path.

you were sitting there. the moonlight fell across you in pale streaks, catching the shine of wet tears on your cheeks as you blinked at him, clearly startled to see someone there at all. for a moment neither of you moved. the waves rolled quietly behind you, the wind tugging gently at your clothes.

you just stared at each other.

then, almost immediately, you groaned and covered your face with both hands.

“don’t look at me!” you whined miserably, rubbing at your eyes in a frantic attempt to wipe the tears away. megumi stiffened where he stood, caught completely off guard. “i’m all teary-eyed and snotty and fucking gross,” you complained through your hands, voice thick as you tried to scrub your face dry.

megumi blinked once, then raised an eyebrow slightly. “…yeah. because you’re crying.”

you peeked through your fingers immediately. “are you lecturing me?”

“uh— no,” he said quickly, rubbing the back of his neck, suddenly very aware that he had absolutely no idea how to handle a crying person. especially you. his mind ran through a dozen useless options: say something comforting, offer help, do something normal.

instead he just stood there awkwardly for a few seconds before blurting, “hold on.”

and then he turned and ran.

down the path, sandals kicking up bits of gravel as he sprinted toward the nearest open market stall he remembered passing earlier. a few minutes later he came rushing back, slightly out of breath, carrying a plastic bottle of cold water, a small pack of tissues, and almost instinctively a couple of fresh tangerines tucked under his arm.

by the time he reached the bench again, you had calmed down a little. your shoulders weren’t shaking anymore, though your eyes were still red and your nose slightly pink from crying.

megumi slowed his steps as he approached.

you glanced up at him just as he reached the bench and he gently pressed the cold water bottle against your cheek. you flinched immediately from the sudden chill. “hey!”

but the protest faded almost as quickly as it came. the coolness seeped into your warm skin and you leaned into it without thinking, your cheek pressing softly against the plastic as if you’d suddenly decided it was the most comforting thing in the world.

you didn’t take the bottle. you just stayed there, nuzzling slightly into the cold surface with a quiet sigh.

megumi hesitated. then sat down beside you on the bench, holding the bottle in place against your cheek so you wouldn’t have to move. his arm would probably start cramping soon. but as you leaned there against him, megumi found himself thinking that even if his arm started cramping, he probably wouldn’t put the bottle down.

“do you want to talk?”

you shook your head immediately; cheek still pressed against the cold plastic.

“alright,” he said simply.

he shifted his grip on the bottle slightly so it rested more comfortably against your face.

“do you want me to wait until you want to talk?”

you sniffled and nodded.

a quiet scoff slipped out of him, though the corner of his mouth lifted faintly.

“alright.”

he pulled the bottle away after a moment to twist the cap open, you reached over and took it from his hand, lifting it to your lips. the cold water slid down your throat and you hummed softly, the chill easing the dryness that crying had left behind.

megumi watched for a second before looking down and rummaging through the plastic bag he’d brought. it rustled quietly in the night air as he searched through it and eventually pulled out a tangerine.

your eyes brightened instantly.

“they’re not… yours,” he said, glancing at the fruit in his hand, “but it’s better than nothing.”

he sank his nails into the peel. the skin split with a soft tear, releasing a faint, sharp citrus scent into the air. he winced slightly when the juice brushed against the small cut near his cuticle, though he quickly masked it, continuing the task with quiet concentration.

you watched him the whole time.

his hands worked slowly and carefully, peeling the skin away in curling strips before placing them neatly back into the bag. once the fruit was bare, he began separating the slices one by one, methodically removing the thin white pith from each segment with surprising patience.

the ocean breeze tugged lightly at his dark hair as he focused, brows faintly drawn. when he finally held out the first slice toward you, you didn’t move.

you just stared at him. the look on your face was soft, almost stunned, as if he’d just done something far more impressive than peeling fruit under the moonlight.

megumi shifted slightly, a faint grimace crossing his face. “…are you… going to take it?”

you still didn’t move.

his ears warmed.

after a second he sighed quietly and extended his hand a little farther, bringing the tangerine slice closer to your lips.

you leaned forward and took it gently from his fingers with your lips, your teeth breaking the thin membrane as the slightly sour juice spread across your tongue.

you didn’t seem to mind the taste at all.

your attention remained fixed on him instead. the dark-haired boy beside you, carefully peeling another slice of fruit as if it were the most important task in the world, the tips of his ears faintly pink and his eyes stubbornly focused on the work in his hands.

he handed you another piece. this time you took it with a small smile, a quiet chuckle slipping out as you chewed.

megumi glanced at you.“do tangerines cheer you up that much?”

you nodded immediately,

he looked back down at the fruit in his hands. “…i’m glad.”

for a while after that, neither of you said much.

then your voice came, quieter than before.

“my grandma…”

megumi’s hands slowed.

he didn’t interrupt, but the way his posture shifted made it clear he was listening now, fully.

“she loved tangerines,” you said softly. “so much that when i was little there wasn’t a single dish she made that didn’t have at least a little bit of the juice in it. rice, soups, marinades… everything.” you let out a small chuckle, your gaze drifting toward the ocean. “the kitchen always smelled like tangerines too.”

megumi handed you another slice.

you took it absently.

“i loved it when i was little,” you continued, rolling the slice between your fingers before eating it. “but when i got older… i guess i got sick of it. the smell followed me everywhere.” you pulled your knees up onto the bench, wrapping your arms around them as the breeze tugged lightly at your clothes. “in school people said i smelled like tangerines all the time. some of my classmates started making fun of me for it.”

you huffed quietly. “which is stupid, right? but bullies always find the dumbest things to pick on.”

megumi didn’t say anything, he just kept peeling the fruit slowly beside you.

“one day i snapped,” you said after a moment, your voice softer now. “i told her i hated tangerines. that i hated the smell and that it was her fault everyone made fun of me.”

you paused.

“do you know what she did?” you glanced sideways at him, expecting boredom or polite disinterest.

instead you found his gaze already on you.

his eyes traced your face carefully, like he was memorizing every small shift in your expression. the attention made a faint warmth rise to your cheeks, and you quickly looked away again before continuing.

“she just laughed,” you said, a small breath of amusement leaving you. “she told me that one day i’d love tangerines just as much as she did.”

you stared out at the ocean again.

“and before i knew it… i did.”

megumi’s hands stilled slightly on the fruit in his lap.

“the house didn’t smell like tangerines anymore,” you continued quietly. “the pots weren’t warm when i walked into the kitchen. the food wasn’t sitting on the table waiting for me. there wasn’t her voice telling me not to turn out like my dad.”

your fingers tightened slightly around your legs. “there wasn’t her laughter anymore either.”

“the village hated her,” you murmured. “because of what her son— my dad, did. people looked at her like she was something rotten… like she carried the same stain he did.” your voice faltered slightly. “and because i was his daughter… they looked at me the same way.”

megumi’s chest felt tight.

“like we were something cursed.”

your shoulders trembled as you pressed your face briefly against your knees.

“and i just…” your voice cracked. “…i just wished they would all die.”

megumi went completely still beside you.

the words sank into the quiet between you, heavier than the humid night air and the slow rhythm of the tide. the ocean rolled in and out against the shore, each wave brushing the sand with a soft sigh, but megumi barely heard it anymore.

his fingers stopped moving, the peel hung loosely between them, a thin strip of orange skin dangling as his grip tightened without him realizing.

his breath caught in his throat.

how— how was he supposed to execute you?

how was he supposed to do it now?

his gaze drifted toward you without fully turning his head. you were still curled in on yourself, arms wrapped around your legs on the bench, shoulders trembling faintly in the moonlight. the silver glow from the water reflected softly across your face, catching in the tear tracks along your cheeks.

megumi’s mind tried to reach for something solid, logic. the cold certainty he usually relied on when dealing with curses. but everything tangled the moment it circled back to you.

his fingers curled tighter around the fruit until the thin skin creased under the pressure.

he should do it.

that was the mission.

he had seen it with his own eyes. the curse that clung to you wasn’t subtle; it had slipped from your back like smoke the first time he noticed it, stretching and twisting before wrapping itself around your body again, possessive and intimate in a way that made his stomach twist.

you didn’t even know it existed. you moved through your days like any other person, laughing, talking, offering him tangerines with sticky fingers and a crooked smile, completely unaware of the thing that breathed alongside you.

you were simply… living.

so why— why were you the one who had to die for it?

megumi swallowed hard, jaw tightening as the questions churned through his mind with nowhere to land. the scent of citrus felt suddenly overwhelming in his hands, sharp and sweet and impossible to ignore.

then your voice broke through his thoughts.

“are you okay?”

you were staring at him, brows drawn together in quiet concern, your earlier sadness momentarily forgotten as you leaned a little closer.

it took him a second to realize what had caught your attention.

his lip.

megumi felt it then; the dull sting where his teeth had been digging in too hard, the metallic taste of blood spreading slowly across his tongue. when he pulled back slightly, a thin line of red had already formed where the skin had split.

“oh— shit.”

he quickly dragged the back of his hand across his mouth, wiping the blood away like it was nothing more than an absent habit. his shoulders shifted in that subtle way he always did when he was trying to brush something off.

you watched the motion carefully, for half a second you didn’t say anything, then your shoulders tightened. “i’m sorry.”

“what?”

you rubbed the back of your neck, the movement awkward and restless as your gaze dropped to your shoes. grains of sand clung to the edges of them where the tide had brushed up earlier, and you nudged one foot into the ground like you suddenly found it very interesting.

“i just kind of dumped all that stuff on you. about my grandma… the village… everything. i didn’t even stop to think about how you might feel hearing it, or if you even wanted to listen in the first place.” your words started to tumble out faster the longer you spoke, the way they did when embarrassment got the better of you. “i mean, we barely know each other and i just—”

“stop that.”

the words cut cleanly through your rambling.

you froze mid-sentence, your head lifting in surprise.

his expression wasn’t sharp or irritated the way it sometimes got when people talked too much; if anything, it had softened in that quiet, unreadable way of his. the wind stirred through his dark hair, pushing a few stubborn strands across his forehead as he watched you.

“if i didn’t care,” he said simply, “i wouldn’t be here right now.”

the honesty in the statement settled between you more heavily than he probably intended.

you looked at him for a long time.

“…but you don’t know me,” you murmured eventually, your voice quieter now.

megumi hesitated.

something flickered behind his eyes, uncertainty, maybe, before he slowly lifted his hand and held it out toward you. the gesture was simple, almost awkward. you stared at his hand, confusion flickering across your face as your gaze moved back up to him.

“megumi,” he clarified quietly. “my name.”

for a moment you just looked at him.

then something in your expression softened, and a small, surprised laugh slipped from you before you could stop it. you reached forward and took his hand without hesitation, your fingers curling around his as you told him your name in return.

megumi repeated it under his breath once, like he was committing it carefully to memory.

“megumi, huh?” you said after a second, a soft grin tugging at the corners of your mouth.

he immediately looked a little awkward about it. his free hand lifted to scratch at the back of his head, shoulders shifting as a faint flush crept up along the tips of his ears. “i know,” he muttered, glancing off toward the water. “it’s… a girl’s name.”

“no,” you said gently.

the way you said it made him look back at you.

you were smiling. there was something so open and sincere in the expression that megumi suddenly didn’t know where to put his eyes. “i think it suits you.”

the ocean stretched endlessly behind him, moonlight scattering across the slow-moving waves in long silver streaks. the wind lifted your hair slightly as you tilted your head, studying him with a quiet sort of curiosity, like you were trying to understand something that had only just revealed itself.

then you said, almost thoughtfully,

“you feel like my blessing.”

ah.

megumi felt something shift deep in his chest, something warm and unfamiliar that spread outward before he could stop it. it was the kind of feeling that made his ribs feel tight, like his heart had suddenly grown too large for the space it lived in.

he looked at you sitting beside him, the faint redness still lingering around your eyes from earlier tears, the smell of tangerines clinging faintly to your hands, the night breeze tugging softly at your clothes as you smiled at him like he was something unexpectedly good that had simply appeared in your life.

like he belonged there.

maybe…

maybe he could allow himself something small.

after all, everyone was selfish sometimes.

and so, that summer.

megumi let himself be selfish.

megumi will never get used to the way you say his name.

it always sounds a little different when it leaves your lips, as if you’re trying out all the possible ways it could exist in the world.

sometimes it comes out stretched and playful, the syllables rolling lazily off your tongue as laughter follows right after, usually when your bicycle bumps into him for the third time that week along the narrow path leading into town. the bell on your handlebars always rings too late, and the soft thud of the tire against his leg is almost routine by now.

you always wobble, nearly tipping the bicycle over in your hurry to steady yourself, your hair falling into your face as you grin sheepishly.

megumi stands there with that same unimpressed look he tries very hard to maintain. he points toward the wheels with mock threat, something about popping your tires but the words never hold any real bite. if anything, his scolding always circles back to you. how you’re the one who’ll get hurt riding that recklessly, how the path isn’t wide enough for your terrible biking skills.

other times it’s quieter.

softer.

the kind of way that belongs only to the two of you when the day settles into evening and the shore grows still beneath the fading sun. the ocean breathes slowly beside you, waves curling against the sand while the sky deepens into colors that melt from gold into violet.

you always insist your hands are freezing and megumi never argues for long. his hands end up covering yours eventually, his fingers awkwardly wrapping around them as the cool sea breeze brushes against your skin. the smell of salt and damp sand lingers in the air while the two of you wander along the shore until you inevitably claim the same weathered bench near the water.

you curl against him there without hesitation, your head resting on his shoulder as if the space was made for you. megumi sits still at first, a little stiff, but it never lasts long. eventually he’s peeling a tangerine, his fingers working carefully through the bright skin while the sharp citrus scent mixes with the ocean air.

slice after slice disappears between your lips as he hands them over. sometimes he pulls one back at the last second just to eat it himself. the offended noise you make afterward always dissolves into laughter, your breath warm and shaky against his shoulder while the waves continue their slow rhythm beyond the sand.

megumi finds that he likes that sound more than he expected.

then there are the afternoons when you drag him somewhere new along the coast, slipping away from the busier parts of the beach and weaving through narrow rock paths until the two of you find the hidden stretch of water you like best. the rocks there rise tall enough to block the wind, forming a quiet little pocket of ocean where the water glows clear and blue beneath the sun.

megumi steps carefully along the wet stones, watching where he places his feet.

you, however, move like you’ve known the place your entire life.

your laughter echoes between the rocks when you reach back to grab his arm, tugging him toward the water before he can protest. the stones are slick with dark green algae and he nearly slips more than once, earning a dramatic look from you each time as if you’re personally offended by his lack of balance.

your silent scolding always comes with narrowed eyes and a firm grip on his sleeve, pulling him farther away from the sharp edges until the two of you finally dive beneath the cool surface together.

the water wraps around you instantly, muffling the outside world into quiet blue stillness.

beneath the surface the light bends through the water in soft shifting patterns, illuminating small clusters of coral where schools of fish dart back and forth like flashes of living color. sometimes they move so quickly that they brush against megumi’s arms or legs, their tiny bodies flicking past his skin before disappearing again into the reef.

you always surface first, pushing your hair back as you laugh quietly, the sound echoing between the rocks while droplets of seawater catch the sunlight around you.

megumi never quite knows what expression he’s wearing in those moments.

he only knows that the sound of his name always seems to follow right after.

megumi pushes wet hair out of his eyes just as a bit of seawater slips the wrong way into his nose. he turns his head immediately, sneezing once, then again, blinking hard as the sting fades.

the reaction earns a bright burst of laughter from you.

megumi looks over at you, brows knitting together in mild offense even though the corner of his mouth has already betrayed him.

“what’s so funny?” he asks, irritation carefully placed into his tone.

you tilt your head, still laughing.

“you.”

that’s it.

just you.

your laughter lingers another second before it abruptly cuts off when a splash of water hits your mouth. you cough slightly, blinking as you wipe your lips with the back of your hand, clearly offended.

you squint.

“you little—”

your hands smack down onto the surface of the ocean, sending a wave of water straight toward him. megumi recoils half a second too late, and then the retaliation begins in full.

water slaps loudly against the rocks as the two of you start splashing back and forth, each attack more aggressive than the last. droplets glitter in the sunlight as they fly through the air, catching in your hair and clinging to megumi’s eyelashes while your laughter mixes with the crashing of water.

eventually you’re the first to break.

you cough again between breaths, lifting both hands in the air in defeat.

“i surrender!” you wheeze, waving one arm dramatically above the water. “i surrender!”

megumi finally stops, chest rising and falling as the adrenaline of the moment fades.

then he laughs.

not the quiet scoff he usually hides behind his sleeve, but a full, genuine laugh that escapes him before he can stop it. it rolls up from his chest, warm and unguarded, and the sound lingers between the rocks as the last ripples of the water settle around them. (a/n: hes so pretty it’s unreal)

you stare at him for a moment. your hair has fallen completely over your face by now, strands sticking to your cheeks and eyelashes as you squint through the mess.

without really thinking about it, he reaches forward.

his fingers slide through the damp strands, brushing them gently away from your eyes and tucking them to the side. somewhere in the motion his hand ends up cupping your cheek, cool seawater dripping from his wrist while his thumb rests briefly near your temple.

he doesn’t seem to notice.

“you look like a wet poodle,” he says, the teasing edge in his voice softer now.

you blink up at him, unimpressed.

“says the one whose family relative is a sea urchin.”

megumi’s brows lift slightly.

“oh-ho,” he says, leaning a little closer with mock curiosity. “little missy’s starting to bite back now?”

his fingers pinch your cheek lightly.

you smack his hand away instantly, cheeks puffing in protest. “cause you suck!”

megumi grins, his eyes glinting as he extends both hands toward your shoulders. you lean slightly, curiosity painted across your wet, glowing face. your eyes widen as he smirks, leaning closer, and you start to protest, “wait—”

before you can finish, he pushes down, dunking you under the water just like you had done to him a few minutes ago. bubbles rush past your nose as you resurface, sniffling and coughing lightly, water clinging to your lashes.

“you know what,” you gasp, water dripping from your hair, “i’ll give you that one.”

you extend a hand, and megumi meets it with a high five, but his palm lingers against yours a second longer, fingers brushing and holding in a way that makes your chest flutter slightly.

then, you remember something, eyes lighting up. “oh! i have to teach you something!” you exclaim, bouncing slightly in the water.

“oh, what now?” he scoffs in irritation. but you know better, his tone means nothing.

“okay, so,” you start, splashing your hands for emphasis, “you take a deep breath,” demonstrating with a long inhale, “then you dive as far down as you can, twist your body so you’re facing up, and open your eyes! trust me, it’s so freaking cool!”

megumi presses a hand over his face, shielding his eyes from the splashes and the sun, a half-grin tugging at his lips.

he huffs out a shaky laugh, “okay, okay! let me try. but if my eyes sting from the salt, it’s your fault,” the corner of his mouth quirking despite the warning in his voice.

he inhales, chest swelling with the deep pull of the sea air, then plunges beneath the surface. the water envelops him, cool and dense, pressing softly against his skin. he twists, turns his body as you instructed, and slowly opens one eye, then the other.

everything blurs at first; the shifting currents, the way the sunlight fractures into dancing shards through the water. his eyes sting lightly, a sharp reminder of the salt, but he can’t pull away from the sight before him. the light filters through the waves in streaks of gold and sapphire, moving like liquid fire across the dark blue expanse. in that moment, it’s as if he’s floating in the sky, weightless and untethered, drawing closer to the sun with each heartbeat.

then a shadow passes over him, soft and deliberate, and his chest tightens. you swim above, backlit by the sun, hair clinging to your face and shoulders, the light haloing around you like an angel.

compelled by some strange gravity, he extends his hands, tracing the curve of your shoulder, letting the tips of his fingers brush your skin, and then moving higher to graze your cheek. through the blur of water and the sting in his eyes, he sees your smile, small but utterly luminous, and his lids droop slightly, savoring the image like sunlight stored in memory.

you lean closer, and without thinking, he mirrors you, letting the distance collapse, the tip of your nose nearly brushing his. time seems to stretch, the water holding them suspended.

and just as the space between you narrows, a small rush of bubbles escapes his lips, a sharp reminder of the air he’s running out of. he kicks hard with his legs, shooting upward, and breaks through the surface in one hurried rush.

the heat of the afternoon pressed gently against megumi’s skin as he lay sprawled on the balcony, the wooden boards warm beneath him. the sun spilled over the edge of the roof, slipping past gojo’s shadow as he leaned lazily against the railing. a faint breeze rustled through the leaves nearby, carrying the mingled scent of salt from the sea and the faint sweetness of tangerines still lingering in his senses from earlier days.

“where have you been off to, megumi-chan?” gojo’s voice sliced through the quiet, drawing him from the haze of memory.

megumi squinted, letting the warmth press against his face, a faint crease between his brows. “i got sidetracked in town,” he said flatly, eyes closing again, offering nothing more.

the rhythmic chirping of crickets filled the air, a sharp, high-pitched symphony that grated against his ears. he could almost hear the memory of your voice explaining how the insects’ song had marked your childhood afternoons, the sound weaving into the heat of the sun itself.

gojo scoffed, grinning, and with a casual flick he tugged megumi’s shirt up and shoved a packaged popsicle against his bare stomach. the cold hit instantly, he yelped, pulling it free, grumbling under his breath, but the pale green treat gleamed in the sunlight, and the sweet, frosty scent made him pause. he tore the wrapper carefully and let the ice melt slowly on his tongue, the cool mint cutting through the warmth of the day.

the balcony fell silent, save for the distant crash of waves and the persistent chirping.

“i know you’ve been seeing her.” gojo’s face was unreadable behind the dark lenses of his glasses, his voice quiet, almost heavy. “why?”

megumi stayed silent for a long beat, the popsicle melting faster in his hand, its cold dripping onto his palm.

finally, his voice, soft and shaky, broke through. “you always tell me to be selfish… so i decided to take it into action.”

gojo’s reply came slow, deliberate, as if weighing the weight of every word. “are you willing to be selfish… enough for another, so much so that you will destroy yourself afterward?” there was a tremor in his tone, one that suggested he had felt the same.

megumi’s head bowed, voice barely more than a whisper, unstable in the edges “just this summer… let me…”

“please… satoru.”

the popsicle in his hand softened, its shape collapsing in the sun, melting faster than he could notice. the sweetness dripped down his fingers, sticky and fleeting, and somehow mirrored the ache in his chest.

gojo said nothing. silent in a way he never had before.

for a moment, megumi felt utterly alone and completely seen all at once.

“she’s sick?”

“yes, young man,” the old woman beside your stall looked up from the bundle of dried herbs she had been tying together with thin twine. adjusting the little round glasses perched low on her nose.

megumi stood there for a second longer than necessary, staring at the empty stall spot.

without the wooden counter that was covered in the faded doodles of tangerines you had once proudly told him about, the little uneven tangarines drawn by your younger self when your grandmother had decided the stand needed “more personality.”

normally you were there.

perched behind that counter with that bright tangerine-colored hat on your head and sleeves rolled up, greeting every passerby with a grin that showed all your teeth.

megumi swallowed, something uneasy settling in his chest.

“she’ll be fine,” the old woman added casually, waving a hand as if it were nothing serious. “caught a bit of a fever. happens when people forget they’re human and try to work every day.”

megumi nodded once.

then, somehow. he found himself standing in front of your house.

he wasn’t entirely sure how it had happened.

one minute he had been walking through the market, the next he had a bag clutched awkwardly in his hand, stuffed with things he barely remembered buying; cold tablets, instant soup packets, bottled tea, and a few other things the pharmacist had recommended while eyeing him suspiciously.

now he stood at your front door.

the house was small and warm-looking, tucked quietly along the narrow street. wind chimes hung from the porch roof, swaying gently whenever the breeze drifted through, their soft clinking mixing with the distant sound of cicadas buzzing in the afternoon heat.

megumi stared at the door like it had personally offended him.

what was he doing?

megumi stood on your small wooden porch with his hand lifted halfway toward the door, fingers hovering uncertainly in the air like he had forgotten what they were supposed to do. after a moment the courage drained right back out of him, and his hand slowly dropped to his side again.

instead of knocking, he started pacing. the porch wasn’t very big, which made the movement almost ridiculous. three steps forward, turn, three steps back, turn again, over and over until the soft creak of the boards beneath his shoes began to repeat in a quiet rhythm.

his thoughts spiraled faster with every lap.

you two were… close.

right?

close enough to sit on the beach for hours talking about nothing and everything at the same time. close enough to share tangerines and stupid stories and long stretches of silence that somehow never felt uncomfortable. close enough that your laugh had started living somewhere in the back of his head without his permission.

but were you close enough for this?

close enough that he could just show up at your house uninvited after asking random market ladies where you lived? megumi slowed his pacing, glancing down at the bag in his hand like it had personally betrayed him.

this looked bad.

actually— this looked really bad.

what if you thought he was stalking you?

what if you thought he was some weird guy who had followed you home and was now standing outside your house with a suspiciously thoughtful get-well package?

what if you thought he was trying to murd—

the door suddenly opened.

megumi froze mid-step.

you stood there in the halfway open doorway with one hand still resting on the handle as you blinked up at him slowly. your face was half-hidden behind the frame. your hair looked messier than usual, like you had only half bothered brushing it before giving up, and you were wrapped in an oversized shirt that slipped lazily off one shoulder.

for a moment neither of you spoke.

then you tilted your head slightly, studying him.

“you think loudly,” you said.

“…huh?” megumi was still standing there like someone had paused him mid-animation.

you pushed the door open a little wider with a soft creak, leaning your shoulder against the frame.

“i could hear you from the living room,” you explained, your voice rough with the remnants of your cold. “the pacing gave it away. you walk in circles when you overthink.”

megumi blinked. “…you could hear that?”

“very dramatic pacing.” you nodded with complete seriousness.

his ears turned red immediately. “i wasn’t pacing dramatically,”

he shifted the paper bag in his hand before awkwardly extending it toward you, the crinkle of the paper loud in the quiet doorway.

“the ladies at the market told me where you lived,” he explained, words coming out a little clumsier than he meant them to. “they saw you hanging out with me before and… told me i should bring you something to help you get better. so i— yeah. i did.”

you looked down at the bag. then slowly back up at him. “…are you going to leave when i take it?”

for a brief second he simply stared at you. at the small pout forming on your face, the way your shoulders were wrapped tightly in that oversized t-shirt. the faint redness around your nose and eyes that made you look both miserable and unfairly cute.

‘you are god’s strongest soldier, megumi.’ he told himself.

“i— should probably leave,” he said, scratching lightly at the back of his neck. “i have something planned with my friends, so—”

the door shut directly in his face.

megumi blinked. his hand was still raised in the air where he had been holding out the bag.

your muffled voice came from the other side. “i won’t take it then.”

megumi lowered his hand slowly. a quiet chuckle slipped out of him before he could stop it, warm and a little helpless. he stepped forward again and placed his hand lightly against the door, knocking once.

“i won’t leave,” he said. “open up.”

the door creaked fully open again a second later.

and there you were; nose pink from your cold and eyes just slightly glassy from fever or allergies or whatever had knocked you out for the day. you sniffled once as you looked up at him, clearly trying to maintain the same offended expression from earlier.

in megumi’s mind you looked like you were glowing. it was ridiculous. you were sick, sniffling, clearly exhausted, and yet somehow you still managed to look completely adorable standing there.

a quiet laugh slipped from him again. your pout deepened immediately, already suspicious that he was about to tease you. megumi reached forward before you could protest and lightly flicked the tip of your nose. “rudolph.”

behind him the door shut with a soft thud as you groaned dramatically. “that’s such a lame joke.”

“for you,” he replied easily, already wandering further inside like he belonged there.

the moment he stepped past the doorway, the house seemed to unfold around him in color.

it was bright, almost overwhelmingly so, but not in a messy way. it felt warm. alive. like every corner had been touched by someone who believed the world should be cheerful even when it had no reason to be.

wind chimes hung near the windows, their soft notes clinking together whenever the breeze slipped through the open panes. threaded between them were thin slices of dried tangerines, translucent in the sunlight as they swayed gently back and forth like little amber coins. strings of beads hung in place of door curtains, brushing lightly against megumi’s shoulders and tapping against his back as he walked through them. sunlight streamed through colored glass set into the windows, scattering warm patches of gold, orange, and pale green across the walls.

and everything, everything smelled like tangerines.

bright, sharp citrus that lingered in the corners of the room, layered over the warm, familiar scent of a house that had been lived in for generations.

and beneath it— you.

megumi froze mid-step, the world narrowing to that realization.

wait.

you?

it hit him all at once. holy shit. he was inside your house. your house. where everything, every surface, every corner, every stray thread of warmth in the air, smelled like you. he inhaled without thinking, chest tightening instantly, and immediately regretted it. his shoulders stiffened.

‘holy shit, i smell her everywhere. why does it smell so much like her? am i going to throw up? no— no, that’s not it—'

then his heart started racing, fast and loud enough that he could feel it in his throat.

‘oh god. why is my heart beating this fast? holy shit. am i going to have a heart attack—'

you nudged his side with your elbow, soft but firm. megumi jumped slightly, blinking down at you, eyes wide, chest still hammering. somehow his face was even redder than yours now.

“are you okay?” you asked, squinting up at him suspiciously.

“yeah— just…” he rubbed the back of his neck, glancing around the room again like it had personally overwhelmed him. “…a lot to take in.”

“grandma always wanted everything to be bright,” you said, voice softer now. “even if it didn’t really match or make sense.” your fingers brushed lightly along the edge of the counter as you walked.

“she said you can’t stay sad if there’s color in your life.”

megumi looked back at you.

even sick, you were still dressed like you had walked out of the house with your eyes closed and somehow made it work anyway. your sshirt didn’t match your pants, and both had little stitched patches and patterns scattered across them in different shades.

meanwhile he stood there in his usual dull color palette. dark pants, and a grey t-shirt that only stood out because of the cartoon character printed on the front. (itadori’s shirt that that idiot had left it in his dorm and megumi mixed it up.)

“your grandma is right.” he simply said.

he set the paper bag down on the counter and began pulling out the things he’d brought.

“she is, isn’t she?” you said proudly.

you drifted over beside him, your nose was still red from wiping it too much, and your lips looked dry, but the excitement in your expression made it obvious you were enjoying this far more than someone sick probably should.

you started opening cupboards one by one, pointing lazily inside them as you went.

“bowls are here.”

another cupboard opened.

“spoons are here.”

then a drawer.

“and that’s where the good spoons are, but grandma says i’m not allowed to give those to guests because they’re ‘ceremonial’ or something.”

megumi nodded slowly, committing the information to memory like it was a mission briefing. once he seemed to have everything figured out, megumi glanced over his shoulder and pointed toward the couch in the living room.

“lay down, i got it from here,” he said, his voice low but firm, like there was no room for argument.

“no, i want to keep you company,” you protested.

“you can keep me company once you lay down,”

“but i can’t see your face from that angle,” you whined.

megumi fumbled with the pot in his hands, almost dropping it, and shot you a glare sharp enough to make you giggle.

“what got you so clumsy, gumiiii?” you teased.

he muttered under his breath, “shut up and sit down on the couch,” before taking a careful step toward you.

“no, i— ah!” you yelped as he scooped you up effortlessly in a smooth, bridal-style lift, carrying you over without so much as a pause.

he set you down gently on the couch, fluffing the pillows around you with precise, practiced movements. you pouted, trying, and failing to glare at him in retaliation, while he quietly fought the damn urge to bite your cheek out of sheer irritation at your adorableness.

his hand brushed over your forehead, smoothing away strands of damp hair stuck to your skin, and he felt the warmth radiating from your sickness. a soft tsk escaped him, and he grabbed the thermometer from the table, giving it a quick shake before extending it to you.

“rest. i’ll go make the soup,” he murmured, fingers lingering for a moment on your cheek.

you let out a small, drawn-out huff, “fineeee…”

he offered a faint, almost shy smile and turned to his task, moving through the kitchen like he belonged there. you called to him every now and then from the couch, a soft voice carrying over the space, until exhaustion finally pulled the words from you.

megumi paused mid-motion, noticing the sudden silence. worry knotted in his chest, and he padded back to the living room to check on you. and when he saw you curled up, eyelids heavy, the faint rise and fall of your breath steady, he let himself relax.

the smell of the soup made your nose twitch, pulling you awake just enough to peek at megumi. he was sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of you, spoon in hand, swirling it gently in the steaming bowl, blowing over the surface in careful puffs before pressing his lips briefly to the spoon to check the temperature. his brows were furrowed in concentration.

he extended the spoon toward you once he seemed satisfied. you sat up on the cushions, letting him guide it to your lips, trusting that he had cooled it just right. the warmth slid down your throat, soothing and gentle, and a soft hum of contentment escaped you.

“is it good?” his voice was tentative, almost shy.

“perfect,” you said, thought it wasn’t really aimed at the soup. then a thought struck you. “wait— did you put tangerines in here?”

megumi tilted the spoon, swirling the soup again. “you mentioned once that your grandma used to put a bit of citrus in,” he said, then blew across the surface and pressed his lips to it once more before extending it toward you.

you watched him in quiet awe, marveling at how he repeated the process with such care, each small motion precise, deliberate, as if tending to a fragile ritual. he hummed softly in delight as he offered each spoonful, his lips brushing the surface before you tasted it, until finally, the bowl was empty.

he pushed back, reaching for the dishes, but you waved him off with a small laugh. “don’t. come here.”

he hesitated, then obeyed, letting himself slide closer to the couch. you motioned for him to sit beside you. he did, still leaning in slightly, eyes flicking to your flushed face as if measuring your temperature again even though he had already checked twice while you slept.

“yeah?” he prompted, quiet but steady.

you looked at him for a long moment, taking in the scene.

the boy you had crashed into with your bike, the one who had argued and teased and disappeared so easily from your life, was now here, in your home, cooking soup for you while you were sick. the sun’s last rays filtered through the colorful paned glass of your windows, painting warm streaks of orange, green, and gold across his skin. the light caught the small dust motes in the air, making it feel as if the room itself was holding its breath.

slowly, you extended your hand, letting your fingers brush against his cheek, the warmth of the sun blending with the warmth of his skin. the colors of the light mixed on his face, yellow and blue merging into soft green, like a quiet painting come alive.

“i’m being real selfish keeping you with me,” you murmured, voice barely above the hum of the evening.

megumi froze for a heartbeat, then shifted closer, his head finding the edge of the couch right beside yours. he didn’t care about how stiff his neck would get. he didn’t care about anything but the quiet closeness of you. “no, you aren’t,” he said softly. “if anything… i’m the selfish one.”

“can you… stay?”

“for as long as you want me to,” he replied, voice gentle and unwavering.

at some point, your eyes closed, surrendering to sleep. megumi watched you with careful attentiveness, memorizing the gentle rise and fall of your chest, the soft furrow of your brow in dreams, the way your lashes cast tiny shadows on your cheeks. his heart thudded in his chest, heavy and unfamiliar. he swallowed hard against the strange tightness in his throat.

leaning in slowly, he brushed a few stray strands of hair from your face, tucking them behind your ear with delicate fingers. then, cautiously, he lowered his head. his lips hovered over yours, a whisper of warmth against your skin. barely touching, just a hint of pressure, soft and deliberate, testing, savoring. the brush of his mouth against yours sent a shiver through him.

he held it there selfishly for a few seconds, long enough to feel the softness of your lips, the quiet rhythm of your breathing against his own, careful not to wake you. the world outside, all of it, melted into the small, intimate space between your faces.

when he pulled back, it was just enough to rest his forehead lightly against yours as his eyes drank in every detail of your sleeping face.

he committed it all; the curve of your lips, the tilt of your nose, the softness of your expression. to memory, precise and unshakable, like a photograph etched into the center of his chest.

megumi fushiguro let himself be selfish that summer.

selfish in the way he stole away his friends summer with him. choosing instead to linger beside you on the beach, inhaling the warm, sweet scent of your sunscreen as you lay close. your oversized tangerine hat dipped over your face, and when he leaned down to tug it just enough to shade his own eyes, you giggled, and the two of you ended up hidden under the straw, a little sun-shielded world of your own making.

selfish in the way he insisted it was too hot on a chilly night by the shore, just to press his jacket around you and breathe in the lingering smell of you afterward when he returned to the rented apartment, cradling the jacket to his chest as if he could somehow trap that warmth forever.

selfish in the way he found himself at your house more often than not, drawn in by the scent of tangerines mingling with whatever you had prepared for lunch. portions slowly became meant for two, and the two of you would sit beneath the tangerine tree in your garden, sunlight warming your shoulders, content simply in each other’s presence.

he never spoke of you to the others, except gojo, who already knew. he wanted this, this summer, entirely to himself. the others’ reactions, frustration, worry, confusion, when they saw him less and less, wondering where he went might have eaten at him if he had noticed.

megumi appeared happier than ever, though a faint sadness clung to him like a second skin.

“just a little more,” he whispered to himself, “just for this summer.”

and as summer edged toward its end, faster than he had ever noticed, megumi realized that he had given his entire summer to you, and he would never take it back.

he kept his mind off the thing clinging to your soul, lingering in shadows he didn’t want to face, and instead let himself sink into these last golden moments. watching your hair tangle in the wind, the sun glint off your skin as you walked together along the shore, sticks in hand from doodling hearts, dogs and tangerines into the sand.

he extended his hand behind him without thinking, and reached out to catch it instantly, intertwining your fingers. you lifted your intertwined hands to warm them with your breath, his thumb brushing your skin with a gentle familiarity that had become second nature.

“can’t believe you got outsmarted by a seagull!” you teased, laughter bubbling as the memory from that morning replayed.

“hey,” he protested, puffing out his chest just slightly, “that seagull was clearly experimented on by humans to reach that level of intelligence.”

you laughed, lifting your free hand to pinch his cheek. “just keep telling your pride that, gumi.”

he made a face of mock disgust, but the corners of his mouth betrayed him, curling into a quiet smile.

oh, how he loved when you called him that, the nickname rolling off your tongue like a soft melody he wanted to memorize forever.

his phone buzzed in his pocket, but he ignored it, letting the rhythm of your steps along the shore fill his attention instead. he knew this path by heart now, just as he knew you. the sun had nearly sunk behind the horizon, and the warm glow of town lamps flicked on, signaling the end of the day for the local children, their laughter fading as they were called home.

you reached into the pockets of his jacket, draped comically over your shoulders and pulled out a few dried tangerine peels. “ah, wait— i’ll toss these,” you said, stepping behind him toward a trashcan you’d spotted earlier.

megumi stayed in place, watching you walk, the jacket slipping slightly as it hung on your small frame. he couldn’t wait for tonight when he’d come back to the apartment, letting sleep take him with your scent pressed against him from the jacket.

“fushiguro?”

he froze.

“…itadori?”

the familiar voice carried a strange weight. megumi’s gaze flicked to him, taking in the furrowed brow, the tight jaw, the sudden tension coiling in itadori’s posture. frustration? worry? fear? the mix made his chest tighten. why was he worried about him?

“what are you doing with the curse?” itadori demanded, eyes sharp.

megumi’s lungs seemed to seize; the air around him thickened. he stood rigid, heart hammering, thoughts scattering in panic.

“w-what?” he stammered, voice low and unsteady.

“gojo-sensei told me—”

“megumiii!”

he turned sharply, watching you rush toward him, not registering the chaos around him nor itadori standing a few feet away. your hand stretched out before you even reached him, fingers ready to tangle with his once more.

from all the memories he’d held that summer, that one burned the brightest.

he remembers the smell of salt in the air, the feeling of the wind that tugged at his hair and yours, the way it quickened as it swept across the beach. he remembered your smile, wide as always, cheeks flushed from laughing too hard, those little lines at the corners of your eyes he loved so much.

he remembers the metallic scent, sharp and unmistakable that clung to his skin. sticky and warm. he felt as if your blood burned his fingers.

he remembered it all, though he wished he couldn’t.

megumi hates tangerines.

not the casual kind of hate, the kind people speak of when a fruit is too sour or sticky, but the kind that wraps around your chest and squeezes until it hurts. he hates the peel curling between his fingers, the scent burning too sweet into his nose, the way the juice stings the small cuts along his nails. he hates the careful, meticulous work of separating each segment, picking away the white threads like some cruel ritual he cannot stop. he hates the glow of the fruit in his palm, how it seems almost alive, how it fills the room with a light that makes everything else feel too sharp, too real.

the tangerines, the way they fill the air with that faint citrus scent, everything about it is a cruel echo of a memory he can’t let go of.

he hates how his body betrays him, how he lifts a slice to his side as if expecting your lips to wrap around and hum in delight, head leaning on his shoulder as you chew.

and still, when he finishes the last piece, the room faintly scented with sugar and sunlight, the tears he’s been holding back spill anyway. his hands tremble, and he inevitably retches it all out of his system as if it’s some poison.

he hits gojo’s chest, each strike harder than the last, feeling the taut muscle beneath, refusing to use his technique. gojo takes it all. the punches, the grief, the tears because he knows this pain all too well, knows it far too intimately.

and each night, megumi presses that damn hat to his chest, the one little thing he allows himself to keep. he falls asleep, hoping something, anything, could take him away.

let him live one more summer day with you.

‘just one.’

‘please, just give me one more.’

‘please, let me peel one more tangerine for her.’

"𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙞𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙤𝙨𝙩 𝙩𝙬𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙘𝙪𝙧𝙨𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙖𝙡𝙡." — 𝙜𝙤𝙟𝙤 𝙨𝙖𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙪

"There's something wrong with your face," Atsumu says.

"Do you ever feel like you were born to serve and die for someone in glorious battle," Suna says, valiantly failing not to flick his eyes back to you. You're frowning at your drink, trying to pick a particle off its rim with a nail. "Sexually, I mean."

"You are not normal," Atsumu tells him, "but yeah, I get the feeling."

They lapse into silence for a moment. One of the guys who came stag walks up to you and jumps into conversation. Suna imagines spiking a ball into his face several times.

"Are you feeling like that because of—" Atsumu starts, but Suna cuts him off with a violent slashing motion across the throat.

"If you say the words out loud, they become true," Suna says. "Shut your fat mouth."

"She does look good," Atsumu muses. "Nice necklace."

"Don't look at her," Suna says. "I actually don't even know who you're talking about. She's wearing a necklace?"

He glances back. You aren't, which soothes his concern that he'd been so distracted by the generous amount of décolletage revealed by your top he'd missed major details of your appearance, which he planned to burn into his memory and then never speak about until he died. His last words were probably going to be "the top button was undone."

"Maybe you would be failing less miserably if you actually talked to your date," Atsumu says. "How did you ask her to be your date without actually dating her?"

"It takes a lot of skill to put yourself this deeply in the friendzone," Suna says. "Someday you'll understand."

"I hope not," Atsumu says with feeling. "Hey, look, they're doing shots."

The rando who’s talking to you is clinking his glass against yours, making unnecessarily intense eye contact. Suna frowns; staring at you like a weirdo is his job. You glance away from your drinking partner for a second, your gazes connecting, and that’s all the invitation Suna needs to cross the room in the space of a split second. He snatches your shot from you with two long fingers and tosses it back, grinning widely at the other man when he’s swallowed.

“That was mine,” you say without vitriol.

“That was vodka,” he says, feeling the warm buzz of it in his belly. “You’re allergic.”

“Not allergic,” you roll your eyes, “just a lightweight.”

It’s true. Vodka gets you way too drunk, way too fast. Why hadn’t you said anything to this other guy? You only ever drink such hard liquor when you’re upset.

Are you upset?

“I’ll buy you another drink,” he promises. He’s glad he took the drink from you. It’s having a strange, dizzying effect the longer he looks at you, your darkened eyes, your parted lips. He reaches up and sweeps the back of his hand just over the curve of your neck, a light touch. He’s pleased when it leaves goosebumps in its wake, a short-lived mark he can leave on you.

“It’s an open bar, dummy,” you roll your eyes. The guy you were talking to has faded into the distance, though you don’t even notice.

He’d meant to stay away from you tonight. He’d meant to be a respectful friend, one who didn’t steal glances at you that he shouldn’t, one who didn’t want to punch out anyone else who looked at you with lust on their face. Every time he steps away, though, you seem to be tossing back another drink, giggling and leaning on a new shoulder, and he’s back at your side, plucking your hand away and glaring at whoever tries to talk to you.

Finally, he follows you down the hall to the bathroom, where you spin and lean heavy on the wall, facing him. Your eyes are bright and teary, all the gloss rubbed off your downturned lips, but he still wants to kiss them, for some reason (because he’s a creep, he scolds himself).

“What are you doing,” you sigh, and he blinks, taken aback.

“Just watching out for you, I guess,” he says. You pout.

“You don’t even care,” you say, voice catching. “You’re hovering like a jealous boyfriend and I don’t even know why.”

“I’m not,” he protests lamely.

“I know!” You explode, pushing away from the wall and wobbling dangerously. He clamps a hand down on your arm and supports your body with his; you are a bamboo shoot and he’s the stake. “I know. You think I’m ugly, you’ll never like me. I get it.”

“What?” Your skin is warm to the touch, and you smell a touch sweet, a touch spicy. He wants to lick the skin behind your ears, where your perfume is spritzed strongest. You couldn’t be more wrong if you declared that Atsumu was going to win a prize for scientific achievement.

“This is stupid,” you say, and oh, oh, no, there are tears welling up and streaking down your face. He pulls you in firmly, playing with the short hairs on the back of your neck. You cry into his chest, even though he’s the reason. “I want to go home. I just wanted to have fun.”

“I know,” he says, voice low, like he’s talking to a wounded animal, “I’ll take you home.” For some reason this encourages a fresh bout of sobbing. “I’m sorry I ruined your night.”

“I just wanted you to think I was pretty,” you hiccup on the last word, and his heart stops.

“I think you’re so pretty,” Suna says. “I think you’re gorgeous. You don’t think you’re pretty?”

“I know I’m pretty,” you say, and he keeps trying to step back, walk away, pull himself out of a situation he has to be misunderstanding. “I thought you did, too, enough to invite me to this stupid thing, enough that I was so excited to pretend we were together or maybe that we would be together for real someday. Fuck, I’m an idiot.”

“You’re not,” he begs you to believe him.

“I thought just because you’re beautiful and you look at me—sometimes—like you want me or something and you touch me all the time, it might mean something. I am an idiot. And a bad friend. I even like your hands, Suna, you’ve made me so crazy I can’t even look at your hands without thinking about your fingers—”

Suna grabs you before you can finish a sentence that will surely land you pressed up against the wall with one of the hands in question in your pants. He says your name, serious, voice grating against all his instincts.

“You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I do,” you insist, looking like you’re going to start crying again. “I—fuck. I love you, Rintarō.”

It’s the final nail in the coffin.

“I’m going to enter noble and valorous combat to prove my worthiness,” he says instantaneously. You peer up at him, expression simultaneously baffled and cutting.

“What?”