#itafushi There’s something Yuuji has come to understand over time: Megumi doesn’t exactly love being called by nicknames. And Yuuji has a few theories about that. One: gender implications of his name, though he’s never really seemed bothered by it. Two: he just finds them ugly.
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He mentioned it to Gojo once, and didn’t get a coherent answer in return. “You’re asking too much of Megumi,” and whatever that was supposed to mean. With that piece of philosopher-level wisdom, his only shot at learning the reason behind it vanished.
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The person who raised him in the end, the one who should know him best if you add one and one, gives you two. Sometimes he doubts even that. But that’s not the point. Of course, when Megumi first blurted it out one day doing homework a few years back,
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Yuuji respected it. He promised he’d never give him a nickname, and that for the rest of his life, it would be “Fushiguro” to him. Well, then life happens, they end up dating, and the conversation gets conveniently forgotten.
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Yuuji’s never really had anyone to go to for advice. The only person he had left was taken by Saint Peter himself. His grandfather resigned as his last consul and Yuuji had to figure things out on his own.
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But for him, family has always been the first place to turn when something’s off. And Choso is family. So he ambushes him one December night. Like a rat trap. Hot chocolate, Uno cards, the main dining table, and the TV murmuring in the background.
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The kind of vibe he loves, but also Megumi. The perfect setup to bring up the topic—or to piss off his boyfriend a little. Something about the Christmas spirit. He starts shuffling the cards for the fourth round in a clearly tense atmosphere. Choso is absolutely wrecking them.
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“Megs, pass me your cards,” he gestures with his head. “Since you lost and have like ten left,” he adds, holding out his hand with a grin. Megumi just slides the cards across the wood and looks him in the eye.
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For a moment, Yuuji forgets that tonight is meant to push his boyfriend's buttons, not confess his eternal love. Choso drums his fingers on the table, leaning back in his chair. They look like the four horsemen of the apocalypse, each sitting at an end.
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“How long did you say you've been playing Uno, Fushiguro?” he asks. There’s one thing Yuuji regrets: teaching Choso how to use sarcasm, or how to mess with people. “No longer than you’ve been alive,” Megumi answers flatly, not even looking at him.
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He’s not dumb enough to rise to the bait, and Yuuji knows that. Doesn’t stop him from chuckling under his breath. “Don’t get mad, Megu.”
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Here’s the plan: Yuuji is going to throw every nickname he can think of at Megumi, and count how many he can get away with. Choso is here for emotional support, and because if things ever do go south, he’ll defend him blindly.
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He deals seven cards to everyone. Shuffles the deck again. First card up. A new round begins. Clockwise, and with a silence that feels almost uncomfortable to Yuuji, they begin. Choso plays a Draw Four card, and the victim is Megumi.
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“Changing to red. And skip your turn.” For a moment, there’s no reaction, just a look of pure disappointment and resignation. Then Megumi glances at his boyfriend, silently begging for sympathy. But of course, all Yuuji can do is laugh. “He really fucking hates you, Memi.”
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Two things happen next, and Yuuji has no idea which one is the Unmoved Mover behind the other, Aristotle forgive him. Megumi places his hand of cards face up on the table. And, naturally, the others lean in to look, because gossip is in their blood. He’s holding two Draw Twos.
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Then he points at Yuuji. Direct accusation. “What the hell is wrong with you today?” “Me?” Yuuji puts a hand to his chest. His grandfather always told him not to go into acting. “You suck at lying,” and that’s why.
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Maybe four rounds of card games where you’ve been losing, hard, brutally, without mercy, doesn’t mix well with your boyfriend constantly calling you dumb nicknames. Choso quietly draws a card from the deck and places it face down near Megumi.
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“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Choso grabs another card. Does the same. “You’re calling me nicknames,” Megumi says, not even changing his posture. Choso’s on card number three.
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“I’m trying to figure out which one suits you best. ‘Megumi’ is way too long for a contact name.” Choso keeps going. “I have you saved as ‘Itadori.’” Choso freezes. “Seriously?” he asks, staring him in the eyes, genuinely stunned.
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And Megumi seems to take the opportunity to turn the spotlight. He shifts his gaze and pins it on the curse user. “What the hell is up with you today, too?” He even looks offended, because clearly, nothing’s up with him. Or so Yuuji guesses, watching the way his brow furrows.
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He takes the chance to study him more closely. Megumi has a quirk. His hair has a strange shape to it. His bangs always fall every which way, and it’s hard for them to stay down, so it gives him a distinct look. Very him.
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Yuuji squints, tuning out the borderline insults being flung back and forth between his brother and boyfriend. All too intellectual and calculated for his taste. There’s something about Megumi’s hairstyle he’s seen before. Somewhere deep in his memory, something clicks.
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“Sea urchin,” he blurts out, and the second he does, everything makes sense. “Holy shit, Megumi, you look exactly like a sea urchin.” Silence. Megumi stares at him like he’s seen a ghost. Choso turns to look at Megumi. Tilts his head. Frowns. Nods.
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“He’s right,” he agrees with Yuuji. “Yeah, well, you’re not one to talk, Choso,” Megumi fires back. His brother doesn’t seem offended. Megumi says nothing more. Just sighs for the seventeenth time that night and gives a half-smile.
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No matter how many times Yuuji sees that look, more and more often lately, it always feels brand new. He smiles back. “You’re hopeless.” “Does that mean you like me?” he asks immediately, leaning forward. No answer, but silence speaks volumes.
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He just gathers up his cards from the table and asks to start the round again. 'No fucking way,' Choso replies.
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leni told me yesterday "your english is so funny because you just literally translate from spanish" and im now realising that. yo duermo abajo porque ARRIBA españa cojones. 🇪🇸🇪🇸🇪🇸🙏🙏🙏🔥🔥🔥🦅🦅🦅
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