Toji Fushiguro has never believed in lucky charms. He’s had too much bad luck in his life. If there had been some way to prevent his shitty luck from manifesting, he would’ve taken it. No opportunity has ever presented itself. Not when he left his clan, and not when he lost his wife.

But there is one machine, at the very back of a shady parlor. Dirty, usually empty, and only charming to the wrong kinds of people- people like him, he supposed. It’s the only machine he’s ever won on. Never much, typically only enough to cover what he’d already lost. But enough to keep the adrenaline racing. When old habits refused to die hard, he found himself there.

The kid appeared the same night he started coming. Obviously underage, and not hiding it well.  Toji considered turning him in the first time, for nothing else but to see what kind of reward he could get. But the kid kept to himself. Didn’t stay long, didn’t talk to anyone, and left the moment the bored-looking attendant glanced at him for a moment too long. Toji was up to far worse things at his age. If the kid managed to get in undetected, why was he gonna be the one to get him kicked out? Several times over the months, the kid would test his luck, sitting a seat or two away, like Toji was a stray animal he was examining for trust. He became used to seeing the pink flash of hair, messily tucked into a hood, sneaking behind him to sit on his own. If the kid could mind his own, he didn’t care how old he was.

Until he took his machine.

Toji had a long ass day. God forbid a man wants to play a little money at a pachinko after a miserable day like his. The kid was there, sitting at his machine. At first, he just stared. Blown away by the gall of this brat. Toji didn’t own the machine, no. But it was his. The one and only machine that didn’t always disappoint him. The irritation made his feet begin to move before his brain could follow. To stand directly behind the body that had suddenly gone very, very still.

“Oh, uh, hey man. Do you work here?” the teen rushed out, so tense that one stiff push would knock him over. Toji fought every instinct not to whack the kid's head. He didn't need to spend a night in jail to round this day out.

“No, I don’t. But, you know that- we’re the only two people ever here. I'm sure the guys that do work here would love to know some brat middle schooler has been sneaking in. If ya don’t want them to find out, move over.”

Before Toji could finish, the kid was already in the next seat to his right. Rigid, staring straight ahead like the blank screen was going to hold a secret for him to get out of the conversation.

“Listen, please don’t. My grandpa will kill me if he finds out I'm here. I'll leave, you’ll never see me here again. I swear,” the kid whispers, hands tight in his lap. A sick sense of pride washes over Toji. It’s been a long time since anyone has been afraid of something he could do to them.

But, for just a moment, when the kid risks a glance at Toji’s smirk, he blinks and sees the face of his son. Gone as quickly as it had been there, but the smile slides right off his mouth. The son, whom he had no doubt was sitting at home right now, pissed off that Toji hadn’t come home yet tonight. The son who couldn’t remember his mother, but held the same face as her. The son that he had failed a million times over, and yet Megumi had still not found the will to hate him. Even when he should’ve.

“I’m not gonna snitch on ya. Just stay off my machine.”

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

The kid is in his seat again. A row of empty machines to either side of him, and he picks the one chair he knows Toji's got a problem with him being in. Figures.

“No seat warming needed. Scoot, kid,” his gruff voice cut through over the noise of the machine. When Yuji didn’t move, Toji laid a firm hand on his shoulder. “Are ya there?”

Yuji jumped like he’d been electrocuted, his head whipping around like he had no idea that he was being spoken to. He visibly relaxed, standing only just enough to move over.

“Sorry, I was just thinkin, didn’t realize where I was I guess,” Yuji mumbles out, palms flat against the buttons, but not pressing anything. Toji let out a noncommittal grunt in response as he began to play.

The silence was deafening. For someone who could entertain the dead, Yuji had not said a single word since Toji sat down. Watching him out of the corner of his eye, he had noticed that he wasn't playing either. Yuji sat unnervingly still, his usual smile gone and staring off into the space between himself and the screen.

“Ya know, you can't win just by staring and hoping it’ll do something,” Toji says, sparing Yuji a glance. Yuji only nods in response, eyes not moving from the point he had fixed on.

Toji hated this part of being a parent. Something is clearly wrong, and he has no idea how to get him to talk. His own parents were incapable of it, and he had inherited that curse with his own son. How was he supposed to dig out information from somebody else's kid? He doesn't know how to be emotionally available. He's not even sure he's capable of it. The silence drags between them for too long.

“How do you ask someone out? Like someone that you… like,”

Toji's hand stills on the machine.

“Huh?”

“You said you were married. How do you, like, tell someone that you like them? That you wanna see them that way?” Yuji had gone scarlet, from the base of his neck where his hoodie met his collarbone, to where his hair sat on his forehead. Luckily, Toji had mastered his poker face long ago, because he certainly would look the same.  

Toji wasn't ready for this. Megumi and Tsumiki were independent in a unique way, where they did not ask about stuff like this. They got the necessary info from health class, and they hadn't asked about it since. That was how Toji liked it.

“You've done all this brooding over a girl? Just ask her to go out, they like that, don't think too much on it or you'll choke and she'll never go out with you.” Toji races out, desperately trying to end this conversation. He had hoped Yuji would say that he had someone bothering him, with the easy solution of Toji telling him to beat the shit out of ‘em and call it a day. Toji was far too old for this.

Yuji says nothing. He doesn't move. Toji has to fully turn his head to check if he's even breathing.

“And if they say no? What if they don't… like that?” Yuji asks, trailing off when he meets Toji's gaze.

Toji turns back to his screen, but he doesn't feel like playing anymore.

“Then you leave ‘em alone. Either they'll come back to you, or you move on.”

Yuji does not like this answer. He sighs, a deep thing for someone of his age. He stands abruptly but keeps his gaze on his tennis shoes.

“I gotta go, my grandpa is gonna be asking where I was. Thanks,” Yuji mumbles, shuffling towards the exit. Toji hates the way his stomach knots at the pitiful expression on the kid's face, like he's already been defeated.

“Hey, Yuji,” Toji starts. Yuji stops, half turning.

“Whoever this girl is, she’d be lucky to have you. Don't screw it up.”

Toji sees the light come back to Yuji's eyes just before he turns back.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

​A hard smack echoes through the parlor. If Toji clenched his jaw any harder, his teeth would shatter. Another loss screen reflected in his green eyes. His fist was throbbing from where he'd smacked the table. Another loss. His machine was failing him faster than he could recover. Every day since last week, loss after loss until he had nothing left to gamble.

​ Yuji hadn't been seen since the last time they spoke, either. He'd sent him off with the hope of him securing a date with a mystery girl, only to force himself into the trenches in return. He hated to say he was beginning to miss the kid. He didn't know when Yuji's presence had turned from a silent stranger into someone he felt like he had to look out for, but it had. Every night, Toji found himself waiting for the kid to come bounding in and tell him how his date went, or tell him about his defeat. But he never came.

The screen mocked him as it reset itself. He didn't know if he was more irritated by the consistent losses or the fact that this teenager who had wormed his way into his care had suddenly found other endeavors besides illegal gambling. Toji had already wasted everything he had for tonight. With one last swift kick to the machine's base, he stood up, only pausing at the kid's usual seat for a moment, and walked out the door.

​ The streets were already thinning out when he stepped into the night air. Just a few short blocks from the parlor, he was the only person on the sidewalk as far as he could see. His kids should be home by now, and Yuji, wherever he is, should be too.

​The door stuck when he tried to open it. Not locked, and nothing insanely big or heavy on the other side. When he managed to get it open, he found a jacket sleeve caught in the hinges. Not enough to keep the door from being opened, but enough to slow it down to an irritating level.

​ “Now what the hell…” he mumbled, removing the piece of clothing from the door, throwing it over his shoulder. The moment he bent down to take off his shoes, feet stopped just in front of him.

​ “You’re home early.”Tsumiki breathed out, an unreadable look on her face. She stood directly in front of him, blocking both his way past her and his view into his living room, where he could see the glow of the TV.

​ He was about to respond, give her some type of sarcasm about her not being happy to see him, when a laugh echoed from the next room. His mind tried to dismiss it as something from the TV, but the longer it reverberated in his head, he could not deny it. He knew that laugh; he had heard it many times over the months. He gently shouldered past Tsumiki as she tried to slow him down, throwing her arms out to no avail.

​ He had to be insane. Something had gone horrifically wrong on his walk home, and he was making up the sight in front of him. Human Earthworm 4 played on his TV, casting the room in a faint LED glow. All of the other lights are off, but it is unmistakable what is happening on his couch. Yuji sat, the same wide toothy smile he had become used to on his face, arm strung around… Megumi. Megumi, who looked both completely unimpressed by the crappy gore in front of him, while simultaneously looking like there is nowhere else in the entire world he would rather be. Toji had never seen him let anyone sit so close. When Megumi turned his head to look at Yuji, mere inches were left between their faces. Something else glimmered in his eyes as he stared at the other boy,  in a way Megumi had never looked before.

​ The confusion settled in immediately. Why the hell was Yuji in his house? What was this?

​ “Just wait, it gets better after this next… uh” Yuji's voice broke him out of his trance. He was staring directly at him. Mouth hanging open, what he was going to say was completely lost on his tongue. Megumi followed his gaze, and the spell broke.

​ He's off the couch and standing in an instant. The look he had earlier has completely left his eyes, replaced by something else completely. Fear? Anxiety? Toji isn't sure. Megumi's hands are balled up so tightly that even with the lights off, Toji can see his knuckles white and the slight tremble in them. Tsumiki speaks up from behind him.

​ “I’m sorry I tried to stall, he passed me.” she whispers, eyes fixed on Megumi, who didn't even look at her; he was too focused on Toji.

​ Yuji has been stunned into silence. His arm still remains strung out, as if his whole body got put on pause. The palpable confusion is all over his face, looking at Toji the same way he would an alien from space.

If it wasn't for the movie still playing, the silence would've swallowed the house whole. Nobody moved. Toji felt like he had stepped through his front door into another dimension.

He hated the look on Megumi's face. He looked at Toji like he knew that this was the inevitable outcome. Like he had known all along that whatever this was, it was just a moment that couldn't last. Waiting for the other shoe to fall until it did, and he could be proven correct. He didn't always do things right; he knew that. But Megumi was always going to be his son. He knew he had to speak; the longer he left the silence drag, the longer Megumi had to sit in the awful feeling he was wearing on his face. He turned to Yuji, whose eyes immediately widened when he saw the man's gaze shift to him.

​ “Ya know, when I told you to go for it, I didn't think you were talking about my own kid.”

​ Yuji stilled, searching Toji's face for malice, and when he found none, a very timid smile appeared. Good, maybe Megumi will take a breath before he passes out. Yuji's arm finally drops back down, leaning forward on his elbows.

​ “I never saw a family photo, not my fault.“ Yuji lightly joked, still testing, still just as lost on how to navigate this.

​ Megumi's shoulders tense. The crease in the center of his brows changed, from fear to shock. Megumi's whole body turned on its axis to stare dead at him. Yuji looked up as he did so, the gentle smile never leaving his face.

​ “You remember that guy I told you about? At the pachinko parlor?” Yuji softly asks, his head nodding towards Toji as he finishes. Megumi's shoulders finally drop. His hands are another story, still wound as tight as he can get them, but Toji supposes that it's progress.

​ “I told you to stop goin there,” Megumi mumbles, eyes falling to the floor. Toji catches a faint glimpse of redness creeping up his ears. The same bright laugh Toji had heard coming rings out again at that.

​ “I did!” Yuji barked out, smiling overly wide. It's supposed to be comforting, he then realized. Toji looks at him longer than he needs to, but the sight has his brain stuttering.

​ Ever since the last time he had seen Yuji, he hadn't won a single yen. Every minute at the parlor was wasted, and only left him walking out with lighter pockets. Toji thought back to the first day he had met him- The first day he had won, on the machine he swore was so lucky. The timeline matches up exactly. Toji had only been winning while Yuji was there. Toji had been so irritated at being betrayed by the only piece of luck he had in his life, but maybe he hadn't been. It had just been moved somewhere else. It was never the machine. The faces of the two boys in front of him, before they knew he was there, came crashing back into his memory. No, it was never the machine.

​ Toji cleared his throat.​

The cursed spirit had been exorcised with the usual efficiency that came with working alongside Nanami Kento: clean, precise, and without unnecessary flair. Now, as the two of you stepped into the small hotel room booked for the night, the exhaustion started to set in and with it, a sudden, palpable silence.

You dropped your bag and scanned the room.

“Well.”

Nanami followed your gaze. Then he paused. His lips pressed into a thin line, eyes narrow behind his glasses.

There was only one bed.

A queen-sized one at least, but still, one.

“I’ll go speak to the front desk,” he said immediately, already turning toward the door.

You reached for his wrist without thinking.

“ It’s late. There probably aren’t any other rooms. Plus, we’ve both sleptt in worse places than this.”

Nanami went rigid the moment your hand touched him.

You quickly let go. “Sorry, I didn’t mean…”

“No, no,” he said, adjusting his tie even though it was already perfectly in place. “It’s fine. You’re right.”

You watched as he stood awkwardly near the foot of the bed, clearly doing math in his head about angles, boundaries, and appropriate pillow-to-human ratios.

“I can sleep on the floor,” he offered. “I’ll ask for extra blankets.”

You frowned. “Nanami, ew, no. That floor looks like a cursed spirit died on it and they just threw a rug over it.”

He actually looked down and studied it for a second.

“I suppose hygiene may be a concern.”

You nodded, trying not to laugh. “So we’ll just stay on our respective sides and build a pillow wall, war time style.”

Kento hesitated. Then gave the smallest nod.

“Acceptable”

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The lights were off. The pillow wall was constructed. You lay on your side, facing away from him, trying not to overthink every movement.

You’d been on plenty of missions with Nanami before, but sharing a bed, even in the most innocent way, felt intimate. Too intimate for the strictly professional relationship you pretended to have with him.

He didn’t speak for a long time, but you could feel the tension radiating off his back like static electricity.

Then, softly:

“I apologize if this is uncomfortable for you.”

You turned slightly toward him. “It’s not. Honestly.”

“I don’t want to overstep.”

You smiled faintly in the dark, something bright blooming in your chest. “You’re the least ‘overstepping’ person I know, Nanami.”

You could hear the faint rustle of sheets as he shifted. “I don’t take these situations lightly.”

“I know,” you said gently. “You take everything seriously. Even Gojo, from time to time.”

“I take you seriously,” he said before he could stop himself.

That made you blink. Slowly.

Then: “Well, I take you seriously, too.”

Another agonizingly long pause.

“Would it be entirely inappropriate,” he began, each word slow and deliberate, “if I… asked to share the space more comfortably?”

Your heart fluttered in your chest.

“You want to cuddle?” you asked, your voice just shy of teasing.

“I wouldn’t call it that,” he muttered, clearly flustered. “More like, maintaining comfort and optimizing rest. In closer proximity.”

You grinned into your pillow. “That’s the most Nanami way to ask for cuddles I’ve ever heard.”

When you scooted back just an inch, you felt his arm hesitantly, awkwardly, slide around your waist, unsure but firm. He was warm. Steady.

You whispered, “This okay?”

His breath brushed your neck. “It is. Thank you for being understanding.”

You nestled closer. “Anytime, Nanami.”

The room fell quiet again, except now the silence felt soft. Comfortable.

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You woke slowly to the quiet hum of morning. Soft birdsong outside, the faint rush of cars on the street below, and a deep, even breath against the back of your neck.

For a moment, you weren’t sure where you were.

Then it hit you: hotel room. Shared bed. Nanami.

And the unmistakable feel of his arm still wrapped around your waist.

You stirred gently, thinking you might try to slip out before it got awkward but the second you shifted, his arm tightened slightly, just enough to hold you there.

“You’re awake?” you whispered.

“Yes. I was pretending not to be.” came his voice, still hoarse from sleep

“Was it for my sake or yours?”

“Both.”

You turned slowly to face him, and his eyes met yours; tired, soft around the edges, golden in the morning light.

For a man known for being so composed, he looked completely unguarded now.

You kept your voice gentle. “Sleep okay?”

Nanami nodded, then looked faintly annoyed with himself.

“Suspiciously well.”

You raised a brow. “Suspicious?”

“I don’t typically sleep well in unfamiliar environments.” He studied you like he was analyzing data. “I can only assume physical proximity played a role in enhanced rest.”

You tried not to laugh. “Are you saying I optimized your sleep?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

You snorted, and Nanami sat up with a heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair, his usual calm back in place, but the tips of his ears faintly pink.

“I believe it would be best if we treated last night as a one-time, practical decision,” he said, though he didnt meet your eyes.

You tilted your head. “You regret it?”

“No,” he said quickly, too quickly. Then cleared his throat. “I simply think it would be too complicated.”

You sat up beside him, brushing sleep from your eyes. “Nanami?”

He finally looked at you.

You reached out and rested your hand on his. “It’s only complicated if we pretend we don’t want it.”

He stared at your hand, then at your face, like he was weighing something heavy in his chest.

“You’d want that?” he asked quietly. “More than just shared proximity for comfort?”

You smiled. “I wanted it before there was even a pillow wall.”

He exhaled, and something in him seemed to relax, like he’d been holding his breath for days.

“Good,” he said, voice low and sincere. “Because I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”