Chapter Text
The library smells like old paper and desperation.
Megumi has been here enough times to know the specific scent varies by floor. The ground floor is coffee and stress, second floor is dust and silent crying during exam week, third floor is pure, undisturbed academia that nobody visits except him and three professors who probably live here. He's aiming for the third floor today.
Itadori follows him through the entrance, looking around like he discovered a new continent.
"Whoa," he says, voice automatically dropping to library-appropriate levels, which is progress. "This place is huge."
"It's a university library.”
"I know, but like –” He gestures vaguely at everything. "I didn't know it was this huge. I've only ever been to the ground floor. For the computers."
"You've never been past the ground floor?"
"Why would I? The computers are right there."
Megumi decides this conversation is going nowhere productive and heads for the stairs. "We're going to the third floor."
"What's on the third floor?"
"Books."
"There are books on every floor."
"Different books."
Itadori accepts this with a shrug and follows.
The stairwell is empty, their footsteps echoing louder against the metal. Itadori starts stepping louder just to hear it, making Megumi sigh. He doesn't comment, because there's no point. Itadori will do what Itadori does, and two sessions and million late night doubts in, Megumi is learning to accept this as a fundamental law of nature.
They reach the third floor and Itadori immediately stops in the doorway.
"Okay, this is actually really cool," he whispers.
It is, objectively, cooler than the other floors. The ceiling is higher here, the windows larger, the late afternoon light coming in at angles that makes the dust motes visible in the air. The shelves are older, wooden instead of metal, and there's a particular quality of silence that feels like sound has simply decided not to intrude on this divine space.
Megumi has always liked it here.
"What are we looking for?" Itadori asks, still whispering even though there's no one else around.
"Reference material." Megumi heads toward the back corner, where he knows the veterinary and comparative pathology section is. He's never actually needed it before – his focus is human forensics, and the overlap is minimal. But he looked up the catalog last week after the phone call with Tsumiki, and he knows exactly where to go.
"Reference material," Itadori repeats, following closely enough that Megumi can hear his breathing. It's slightly uneven, like he climbed the stairs too fast, which he probably did. "Like textbooks?"
"Like supplementary texts. Visual guides. Case studies." He stops in front of the relevant section, scanning the spines. "Your learning style is visual. The standard textbook isn't working. So we find something that will."
"Oh." Itadori sounds surprised. "You thought about my learning style?"
"I had to," Megumi corrects, pulling out a book titled Veterinary Pathology: A Visual Guide. He flips it open. Photographs, diagrams, actual cases with images. This could work. He hands it to Itadori. "Hold this.”
Itadori takes it with both hands, careful in a way that surprises Megumi.
"Okay, but –"
Megumi pulls out another book with even more images. Case examples with photographs of actual tissue samples, gross pathology, histology slides. He adds it to Itadori's growing pile, and Itadori adjusts his grip, biceps flexing slightly under the weight. Not that Megumi is paying attention to the fact that Itadori is more muscular than he thought he would be.
"Megumi –"
He picks up another book, where each chapter is structured around real cases, with images and diagnostic reasoning laid out step by step. Perfect for someone who needs to see the application, not just the theory. He pulls it down.
"How many books are you –”
"This one too." Atlas of Veterinary Pathology. Literally an atlas. Hundreds of photographs organized by organ system. If Itadori can't learn from this, he can't learn from anything.
He turns around to add it to the pile and finds Itadori staring at him.
His expression is soft in a way Megumi hasn't seen before. Not the usual bright enthusiasm or the concentrated focus, but something quieter. His eyebrows are slightly raised, lips parted like he was about to say something and forgot what. The afternoon light is hitting him from the side, casting half his face in shadow, and it makes his features look more defined somehow, more sharper.
"What?" He asks.
"You..." Itadori shifts the stack of books in his arms, and Megumi notices the way his shoulders move under the hoodie, the way he redistributes the weight without complaint. Looking down at the books, then back up at Megumi. "These are all vet books.”
"You're studying veterinary medicine."
"Yeah, but –” He seems to struggle with something, mouth opening and closing. His tongue touches his bottom lip briefly, a nervous gesture. "You didn't have to do this. Look all this up. I could've just... kept using your notes. Or the new ones you had told me of."
Megumi pauses.
Right. The veterinary pathology notes from Tsumiki that are currently sitting in his desk drawer, untouched since he picked them up two days ago. He'd gone to her apartment Sunday evening, endured approximately forty-five minutes of dinner and interrogation disguised as casual sibling conversation.
The notes are still in his drawer. He'd meant to bring them today, had even thought about it this morning, but then he had started looking through the library catalog instead. Started finding these books. Started thinking about what would actually work best for Itadori's learning style, not just what was conveniently available.
The notes from Tsumiki are good, and exactly what he asked for.
But these books are better.
"Your field has different applications. Different case presentations. Different clinical relevance." Megumi pulls down one more book, because if they're doing this, they're doing it properly. "Using human pathology notes for veterinary medicine is impractical. This makes more sense."
"This is really thoughtful," Itadori says quietly, and his voice has gone soft again in that way that makes Megumi's chest feel uncomfortably tight.
He takes a few books on the top of the stack from Itadori's arms before he can say anything else that requires a response. "There's a table by the window. We'll look through these and see which ones are actually useful."
He doesn't wait for an answer, just heads toward the table he always uses when he's here. It is at the very end of the floor, with good natural light, far enough from the door that no one disturbs him. He sets the books down and sits.
Itadori sits across from him, and the chair scrapes slightly against the floor. He winces at the sound, then settles in, still wearing that expression like Megumi has done something extraordinary instead of just logical. His elbows rest on the table, and he leans forward slightly, chin propped on one hand.
"Stop looking at me like that," Megumi says.
"Like what?"
"Like I saved you from a burning building."
"I wasn't –" Itadori laughs, soft and a little embarrassed, and his whole face changes when he laughs. His eyes crinkle at the corners, his nose scrunches slightly, and there's a small scar near the edge of his lips that stretches. "Okay, maybe a little. But this is just... really nice. You didn't have to do all this research."
"It wasn't research. I looked at the library catalog. It took ten minutes." This is a lie. It took forty-five minutes and three different search attempts because the cataloging system for veterinary texts is different from human medical texts and he had to crosscheck. But Itadori doesn't need to know that.
"Still," Itadori says, pulling the first book toward himself. His fingers splay across the cover, reverent. He opens it, and his entire face lights up.
And that's something Megumi wasn't prepared for. The way Itadori's expression transforms completely, like someone turned on a light inside him. His eyes go wide, bright, that honey-gold color catching the afternoon sun coming through the window. His mouth curves into a smile that's genuine and unguarded and his whole posture changes as his shoulders relax, body leaning in toward the book like it's magnetic.
"Oh, this is perfect," he says, and his voice is filled with such pure, uncomplicated joy that Megumi has to look away.
He's not wrong. The book is well-organized, each condition presented with multiple photographs from different angles, arrows pointing out the relevant pathology, clear concise text that explains without overwhelming. Itadori flips through the pages slowly, pausing on a section about hepatic necrosis.
Megumi watches him read, the way his eyes move across the page, left to right, then down. The way his lips move slightly over the harder words, a habit he probably doesn't know he has. The way his eyebrows draw together when he's concentrating, creating a small furrow between them. He reaches up absently to push his hair back from his forehead, and it immediately falls back into place, completely uncooperative.
"See, this makes sense," Itadori says, pointing at a photograph of a liver with focal necrosis. His finger taps against the page twice, emphatic. "When the textbook just describes it, I can't picture it. But seeing it like this –" He traces the area of damage with his finger, gentle despite his enthusiasm. "I get it now. The cell death is localized. The surrounding tissue is trying to compensate."
"That's hypertrophy of the surrounding cells," Megumi says, leaning forward slightly. "They're increasing in size to handle the increased workload."
"Because the dead cells can't do their job anymore, so the living ones have to work harder." Itadori looks up, and Megumi is struck again by his eyes. They're even more striking this close, backlit by the window. "Like when someone calls in sick and everyone else has to cover their shift."
It's not a textbook explanation, but it's not wrong. "Essentially, yes."
"That's so cool." Itadori goes back to the book, flipping to the next section, and Megumi notices the way his hands move more confidently now. There's an energy to him that's almost kinetic, like he's physically vibrating with the desire to learn more, to understand. His leg is bouncing under the table; Megumi can feel the vibration through the floor. "What's this one?”
"Accumulation of lipids in cells. The cell can't metabolize fats properly, so they accumulate."
"So the cell is basically drowning in fat it can't process."
"Crudely put, but accurate."
Itadori grins at that, a quick flash of straight white teeth, then keeps reading. Megumi watches him for a moment longer. The afternoon light is doing interesting things to his profile, highlighting the line of his jaw, the curve of his ear, the way his eyelashes cast tiny shadows on his cheeks when he looks down.
Then he catches himself watching and looks away, pulling over the case-based textbook instead. This is not what he's here for. He's here to tutor, to teach, to make sure Itadori passes his pathology course. Not to catalog the exact shade of his hair or the way his hands move when he's excited or the small constellation of freckles on the bridge of his nose that are only visible in direct sunlight.
He opens the textbook with more force than necessary.
They work in silence for a while. It's comfortable, which is unexpected. Megumi has never been good at sharing space with people. But this is... fine. Itadori isn't intrusive. He's just there, across the table, occasionally making small sounds of recognition or confusion, sometimes asking questions that are surprisingly insightful.
Megumi finds himself acutely aware of Itadori's presence in a way that's both annoying and not entirely unpleasant. The sound of pages turning. The quiet hum Itadori makes when he's thinking. The way he chews on his bottom lip when he's reading something difficult, then releases it slowly when he understands. The unconscious smile that appears when he finds something particularly interesting.
"Why does hypertrophy happen in the heart?" Itadori asks eventually, looking up from the atlas. He's pushing his hair back again, and this time it stays for about three seconds before falling back down. Completely useless gesture. He should just accept that his hair does what it wants.
"Increased workload. Hypertension, valve disease, anything that makes the heart work harder."
"So the heart gets bigger to compensate."
"Yes."
"But that's not always good, right? I remember you said something about that." He tilts his head slightly when he asks this, almost puppylike.
Megumi is impressed that he remembers. "Correct. Hypertrophy can be physiological or pathological. Pathological hypertrophy eventually leads to dysfunction. The cells get too big, the organ gets too big, and it can't function properly anymore.”
"So there's a limit to adaptation," Itadori says slowly, like he's working through it. His eyes go distant, thoughtful, and Megumi can practically see the gears turning in his head. "The cells try to cope, but if the stress continues, eventually they can't keep up."
"Exactly."
Itadori sits back, and the change in position shifts the light across his face. He looks thoughtful now, serious in a way that makes him look older. More mature. "That's kind of sad."
"It's biology."
"Biology can be sad." He's quiet for a moment, fingers drumming absently against the table. "Do you think people are like that too?”
Megumi looks up. "What?"
"Like, adapting to stress. Growing to handle more pressure. But eventually hitting a limit." Itadori is still looking at the textbook, not at Megumi, and his expression has gone soft again. "I don't know. It just made me think."
It's the kind of question that doesn't have a clean answer, the kind Megumi usually deflects. But the sincerity, the ponderous way Itadori asked makes him actually consider it. Something about the way Itadori looks right now, bathed in afternoon light, expression open and honest and a little sad, makes Megumi want to give him a real answer.
"Probably," he says eventually. "Most biological principles have some correlation to behavior. It's not a perfect metaphor, but it's not wrong."
Itadori nods, and a strand of hair falls across his forehead. He doesn't push it back this time. He just leaves it there, and Megumi has the strangest urge to reach across the table and brush it aside himself. He doesn't, obviously. That would be insane.
"Sorry," Itadori says, shaking his head like he's clearing it, and his hair shifts but doesn't move away. "That got weirdly philosophical."
"It's fine.”
"I do that sometimes. Start thinking too hard about things." He flips the page, deliberately casual, but there's a tightness around his eyes that wasn't there before. "My brother says I think in metaphors because I can't just accept things as facts. I have to make them mean something."
"Your brother is a vet too?"
“No, he's a haematologist.” His face transforms again when he talks about him. The soft vulnerability is replaced with warmth, affection, pride. His whole expression opens up like a flower toward sunlight. "Our neighbor's dog was diagnosed with blood cancer a few years ago, and he had offered to help out.” When he talks about something he loves, his hands start moving. Gesturing to illustrate points, fingers spreading and closing, palms up in invitation. It's distracting. Megumi forces himself to focus on Itadori's words instead of his hands. “And at that time, I just couldn't see the little guy in pain, you know?”
"That's why you're in veterinary medicine."
"Yeah." He smiles, a little self-conscious, and there's color rising in his cheeks, a faint pink that matches his hair. "I know it's not as impressive as forensics or anything –"
"It's not a competition."
"I know, but like, you're literally going to solve crimes and stuff. Figure out how people died. I'm just... trying to keep pets healthy.”
"'Just trying to keep animals healthy," Megumi repeats. "Do you know the mortality rate for certain conditions without proper veterinary intervention?"
Itadori blinks. "...No?"
"High. Very high. What you're doing isn't less important. It's just different." He pauses, then adds, because apparently he's saying things now: "You said it yourself. We're doing the same thing from opposite ends."
Itadori's smile changes into something softer, more genuine, and it does something uncomfortable to Megumi's chest. Something that feels like pressure without pain. His eyes are warm, his expression unguarded, and he's looking at Megumi like he's actually seeing him. Not just the tutor, not just the organized note-taker, but something more. And a little part of his heart likes that fact.
"I did say that, didn't I?"
"Yes."
"And you remembered." There's wonder in his voice, quiet and genuine.
Megumi doesn't have a response to that that won't be incriminating, so he doesn't respond at all. He pulls over the clinical case-based textbook instead, not looking at Itadori's face, at the way the smile is still lingering at the corners of his mouth. "We should go through some of these cases. They're structured well for learning diagnostic reasoning."
"Okay, but first –" Itadori reaches across the table and taps the book Megumi just opened. His fingers are close enough that Megumi can see the small calluses on his fingertips, the clean but short nails, the way his knuckles are slightly prominent. "Thank you. For all of this. The books, bringing me here, thinking about how I learn. You didn't have to."
"It's efficient," Megumi says, still not looking up.
"It's kind," Itadori corrects, and his voice has gone soft again in that way that makes Megumi's defenses feel inadequate. Before Megumi can argue, Itadori's already opening the case-based textbook and pointing at the first case. "Okay, what's this one? What are we thinking?"
Megumi lets it go.
They work through the case together – Itadori reading the presentation, Megumi asking guiding questions, both of them flipping between the different textbooks to compare images and information. It's the most engaged Itadori has been, the most animated. He leans forward over the table, practically vibrating with focus. His eyes dart between books, his hands move from page to page, and he talks through his reasoning out loud in a way that's actually helpful to hear.
He's good at this, Megumi realizes. When he can see the application, when it's about an actual patient with actual symptoms, he connects the dots quickly. His face goes through a dozen different expressions as he works through the case. Concentration, confusion, realization, excitement.
"Okay, so if the liver enzymes are elevated, we're thinking hepatic dysfunction," Itadori says, pointing at the case details.
"What kind?"
"Um... could be necrosis? Or cholestasis?" He looks uncertain now, eyebrows drawing together, teeth catching his bottom lip.
"How would you differentiate?"
"Biopsy?" The uncertainty is still there, in the way his voice lilts up at the end, making it a question instead of a statement.
"Correct. What would you expect to see on histology for each?”
Itadori flips to the atlas, finds the relevant images. His movements are quick, efficient now that he knows where things are. "Necrosis would show cell death, loss of architecture. And cholestasis would show…” he points at a diagram more confidently, “this.”
"Perfect."
"Really?" Itadori looks up, surprised, and his face does that thing again where it completely lights up. Eyes bright and smile wide. He looks genuinely delighted, like Megumi just told him he won the lottery instead of just correctly identifying histological findings.
"Yes. That's exactly right.”
The smile Itadori gives him is so bright that Megumi has to look away, back to the textbook, pretending to read something that's not related to forensics at all. His eyes aren't focusing properly on the words. He's too aware of Itadori across the table, still smiling, still looking at him with that open, happy expression that makes Megumi feel like he's standing too close to something warm.
They work through three more cases before Megumi notices the light has changed as the afternoon sun is lower now, the shadows longer, and the quality of light has shifted from bright to a dull golden. He checks his watch, realising that they have been here for two hours.
"We should stop," he says.
"Already?" Itadori looks genuinely disappointed, and his shoulders slump slightly. "I was just getting into it."
"It's nearly six."
"Oh." Itadori checks his own phone, eyes widening. "Oh wow. I didn't realize. Time went really fast."
It did. Megumi noticed but didn't want to acknowledge it. Two hours felt like twenty minutes, which is unusual. Time has always been something Megumi is acutely aware of. "You can check out these books if you want. Use them for studying.”
"Can I? I don't have a library card." Itadori is already gathering the books, stacking them carefully, and Megumi notices how gentle he is with them. Respectful, like they're valuable.
Megumi sighs, the words sitting heavy on his tongue. He knows what he's about to offer. He knows what it means. Or rather, what it doesn't mean. It's practical. That's all. "You can use mine."
The offer hangs in the air for a moment.
Tsumiki's voice blares in his head, smug and knowing: You haven't even discussed payment, have you? He decides to address that in the near future. It won't be difficult. Itadori isn't the type to decline a reasonable arrangement. This is just... an extension of their professional relationship. Efficient resource management.
"What? No, I'll just get one myself –" Itadori is already shaking his head, firmly against the idea.
"And what will you do with it?" Megumi cuts him off, more abruptly than intended. "These books will last you the entire semester, maybe even longer. You won't need to buy supplementary materials. It's more efficient this way."
Itadori opens his mouth to argue, but then he pauses, closing his mouth. His eyebrows draw together in that way they do when he's actually thinking something through instead of just reacting.
"You're..." Itadori starts, then stops. Tries again. "You're seriously the best, Fushiguro.” The enthusiasm returns as his whole face brightens, that smile spreading wide and genuine, and Megumi has to look away before he does something stupid, like smile back.
"These are going to help so much," Itadori continues, already turning back to the books with renewed energy. "I can already tell. The visual stuff, the cases – it makes everything click, you know? Like, I can actually see what's happening instead of just trying to memorize words that don't mean anything to me."
He's stacking the books again, more carefully this time, reverent hands smoothing over the covers. There's something almost tender in the way he handles them now, like they've become more precious because Megumi went out of his way to find them. Because Megumi is trusting him with his library card, with his record, with something that could cause problems if Itadori forgets to return them or damages them.
Which he won't. Megumi knows that somehow, even after only a handful of interactions. Itadori would never.
"Just don't lose them," Megumi says, because he needs to say something, and needs to establish that this is still professional. "Or get them damaged. They're checked out under my name."
"I won't," Itadori promises, and there's something solemn in his voice now, serious in a way that makes Megumi's chest do something uncomfortable. "I'll take really good care of them. I promise."
"Good."
They pack up in silence, Itadori still handling the books like they're precious artifacts. His tongue is poking out slightly between his teeth as he concentrates on stacking them just right, and it's such an unconsciously childlike gesture that Megumi feels something in his chest constrict.
"You know," Itadori says as they descend the stairs, "you're a really good person."
"I'm practical."
"You can be both."
Megumi doesn't respond to that. Can't respond to that. Just keeps walking, keeps his eyes forward, and tries not to think about the warmth spreading through his chest.
They head back downstairs, and the ground floor is quieter now, the after-study crowd having dispersed. The fluorescent lights feel harsher after the warm afternoon glow of the third floor, more clinical. Megumi approaches the self-checkout kiosk with Itadori trailing behind him, still cradling the stack of books like they're fragile.
Megumi scans his card, and the screen flickers to life. He begins scanning the books one by one, the beep of the scanner punctuating the quiet between them. The system tallies them up: one, two, three, four, five. All veterinary texts. All checked out under his name for the next four weeks.
A message pops up on the screen: Extended borrowing limit - Additional fee required: ¥500
Megumi doesn't hesitate. He angles his body slightly, blocking Itadori's view of the screen with his shoulder. His fingers move quickly across the payment interface, approving the charge before Itadori can lean in and see what he's doing.
Because if Itadori notices, he'll protest. He'll try to pay for it himself, or worse, he'll insist on getting his own library card after all, and then this entire conversation will loop back to the beginning. They'll stand here arguing in the library lobby about money and practicality and who owes what to whom, and Megumi doesn't have the energy for that.
It's just 500 yen. Nothing much.
The receipt prints silently, and Megumi takes it, folds it quickly, and tucks it into his pocket before Itadori can ask to see it.
Outside, the early evening air is cool. Itadori shifts the stack of books in his arms, and Megumi can see the strain in his shoulders, the way he's trying to make it look effortless when it clearly isn't.
"Same time next session?" Itadori asks, and he's slightly breathless from the weight of the books.
"Wednesday. Four PM."
"I'll be on time."
"You said that last time."
"This time I mean it." Itadori grins, and the last of the evening sun catches in his eyes, turning them molten gold. "I'll set five alarms."
"That's one more than last time.”
"Exactly. Hypertrophy." He looks pleased with himself for the connection, and it shows in every line of his face. "I'm adapting to increased demand."
Megumi doesn't mean to, but he almost smiles. The corner of his mouth twitches before he can stop it. "That's not how that works."
"Close enough." Itadori adjusts his grip on the books, and one of them starts to slip. He catches it awkwardly, the whole stack tilting dangerously to the left.
"You're going to drop them," Megumi says.
"No, I've got it –" Another book slides. Itadori performs what can only be described as an interpretive dance to keep them all balanced, and somehow succeeds. "See? Totally fine.”
"You look ridiculous."
"But effective." Itadori shifts the stack again, then looks up at Megumi with an expression that's suddenly more uncertain. "Hey, um. Do you want to get coffee? There's a place near here, right? We could just... I don't know. Talk. Or not talk. Whatever."
Megumi blinks. "Coffee?"
"Yeah. You know, hot beverage, usually contains caffeine, sometimes people drink it together..." Itadori is rambling now, nervously looking sideways as a book threatens to fall down. "Unless you're busy. Or don't want to. That's totally fine. I just thought –”
"It's not frivolous," Megumi says, which is not what he meant to say. What he meant to say was something about how he does, in fact, have a schedule, and this is not part of it. Instead he said that, which implies this is not frivolous, which implies it has value, which is –
"It's not?" Itadori's smile is growing now, warm and bright.
"The books," Megumi says quickly. "The stack is unstable. You'll drop them before you make it to your room. It's more practical to set them down somewhere."
"Right," Itadori says slowly, and his smile turns into something more teasing. "The books. Very practical concern."
"Do you want me to leave?" Megumi asks, more defensively than intended.
"No! No, definitely not." Itadori adjusts the books again, and his smile softens into something genuine. "I want you to come. I just didn't think you'd say yes."
"Why not?"
"I don't know. You're just very..." Itadori trails off, searching for the word. "Contained, I guess? Like you have clear boundaries about what's tutoring and what's not. I thought coffee would be crossing that."
He's not wrong. It is crossing that. It is a complete breach of their Rule Number Three. Megumi knows this, and can feel himself standing at the edge of something undefined, something that breaks the careful structure he's built around this arrangement.
"It's just coffee," Megumi says.
"Yeah." Itadori's smile is complicated, a mixture of happiness and hope. "Lead the way, sensei."
"Don't call me that."
"Would you prefer Professor Fushiguro?"
"I would prefer Megumi."
"Ooh, first name basis. We're moving up in the world." Itadori's tone is light, teasing, and Megumi doesn't know how to respond to teasing that doesn't have an edge to it. Kugisaki's teasing is sharp, pointed, and designed to provoke. This is... playful. Warm. "I'm honored."
They walk in silence for half a block. Itadori is still performing a careful balancing act with the books, and Megumi finds himself watching from the corner of his eye, ready to catch them if they fall. They don't. Itadori has better coordination than his general chaos would suggest.
This is fine. This is normal. Megumi is simply... extending professional courtesy. That's all. People get coffee with colleagues. This is the same thing. And they could talk about payment for tutoring.
"So," Itadori says eventually, and there's amusement in his voice, "do you take all your students out for coffee, or am I special?"
"You're my only student."
"That didn't answer my question." Itadori glances at him, and there's something in his expression that makes Megumi's face feel warm. "Am I special?"
"You're especially likely to drop five library books on a public sidewalk if left unsupervised."
"That's fair." Itadori doesn't sound offended. If anything, he sounds more amused. "So this is a preventative measure. Protecting library property."
"Exactly.”
"And it has nothing to do with wanting to spend more time with me."
"Why would I want that?" Megumi asks, and it comes out more defensive than intended.
"I don't know." Itadori's voice is still light, unbothered. "Maybe because I'm delightful company?"
"You're adequate company."
"I'll take it." He shifts the books again. "You know, most people would just say 'yes, let's get coffee' instead of constructing an elaborate justification involving book safety."
"I'm not most people."
"I noticed." And the way Itadori says it doesn't sound like a criticism. It sounds almost... fond. "It's kind of cute.”
Megumi nearly trips over nothing. They haven't really talked casually like this before, and Megumi absolutely does not expect Itadori to be so… straightforward. "What?"
"The way you have to logic your way into doing normal social things. It's cute." Itadori says it so casually, like he's commenting on the weather, like calling someone cute is just a normal thing to do.
"I'm not – that's not –" Megumi doesn't know how to finish that sentence. His face is definitely warm now. "We're here," he says instead, more abruptly than necessary.
The coffee shop is small, tucked between a bookstore and a ramen place, with large windows and warm lighting that spills out onto the sidewalk. It's not crowded at this hour as the after-work rush has passed, and the evening crowd hasn't arrived yet. Megumi holds the door open, and Itadori navigates through it carefully, books still precariously stacked.
Inside, it smells like espresso and vanilla and something baking. There's soft music playing, something instrumental that Megumi doesn't recognize. Itadori heads straight for a table by the window and sets the books down with a sigh of relief.
"Okay, you were definitely right. That was getting heavy." He rotates his shoulders, stretching, and his hoodie rides up slightly. Megumi looks away, focusing on the menu board he's already memorized. "What are you getting?"
"Black coffee.”
Itadori scrunches his nose. "That's boring.” He is already walking toward the counter, and he turns back to look at Megumi with an expression that's half challenge, half invitation. "Come with me. You have to see the menu. They might have something that'll change your life."
"I doubt that."
"You never know!" Itadori is gesturing for him to follow, and Megumi does, because apparently that's what's happening now. He's following Itadori to a coffee counter to look at a menu he already knows.
At the counter, Itadori leans in close to read the options, shoulder nearly brushing Megumi's. "Okay, look at this. Honey lavender latte. That sounds amazing."
"That sounds like flowers in coffee.”
"Exactly! Adventurous." Itadori turns his head, and he's very close now, close enough that Megumi can see the individual shades of gold and brown in his eyes. "You should try it."
"I should absolutely not try it."
"Scared?"
"Of floral coffee? No."
"Then try it." Itadori is grinning now, clearly enjoying this. "I dare you."
"We're not twelve."
"No, we're adults who can make adult decisions. Like trying new coffee flavors." He's still grinning, and there's a dimple in his cheek. "Come on. Live a little."
"I live an adequate amount.”
"You live like someone's watching you through a security camera." Itadori says it teasingly, without judgment. "One weird coffee won't kill you."
The barista is watching them awkwardly, eyes flitting over the two of them. Megumi realizes they've been standing here arguing about coffee for longer than is probably normal.
"Black coffee," he tells the barista. "Medium."
"Boring!" Itadori announces to no one in particular, then orders something that involves caramel and whipped cream and possibly chocolate. "And give him a sample cup of the honey lavender. He needs to expand his horizons."
"I don't –”
"Sample cup is free," the barista says, already reaching for a tiny cup. She's smiling.
Megumi gives Itadori a look that he hopes conveys deep betrayal. Itadori just grins back, completely unrepentant.
They wait for the drinks in silence, standing side by side at the pickup counter. Itadori is humming along to the background music, bouncing slightly on his heels, and Megumi is acutely aware of how close they're standing. Close enough that their arms brush when Itadori shifts his weight.
Itadori stops moving when the barista calls their order. He grabs both drinks and the tiny sample cup, heading back to their table by the window. The cashier smiles at him when he thanks her, and he smiles back, bright and genuine, and Megumi notices the way the cashier's expression softens in response. People probably smile at Itadori a lot, he realizes. He has that kind of face.
Megumi follows, feeling off-balance in a way that has nothing to do with physical coordination.
Itadori sets his black coffee in front of him, then places the sample cup next to it with a flourish. "Moment of truth.”
"This is unnecessary."
"This is fun. Try it." Itadori is watching him with bright, expectant eyes, and Megumi realizes this is some kind of test. Not a malicious one, but a test nonetheless.
He picks up the sample cup and takes a sip.
It's... not terrible. Floral, yes, but in a subtle way. The honey balances the lavender, and there's still coffee underneath it all. It's weird, but not bad. He'll never order it himself, but he doesn't hate it.
"Well?" Itadori is leaning forward, elbows on the table, chin in his hands. "Life changed?"
"No.”
"But you don't hate it."
"I don't hate it," Megumi concedes.
"That's progress." Itadori looks genuinely pleased, like Megumi has accomplished something meaningful. "Next time we'll get you to try the rose cardamom."
"There won't be a next time."
"Sure there won't." Itadori is grinning around the rim of his aggressively sweet drink. "That's why you're here now, right? Because this is a one-time thing."
He says it lightly, teasingly, but there's a question underneath it. An opening, if Megumi wants to take it.
He doesn't take it. "How's your dessert?"
"It's coffee, and it's delicious." Itadori takes a sip, and gets whipped cream on his nose. Again. He doesn't notice. Again. "Unlike your boring black coffee.”
"My coffee serves its purpose."
"Which is?"
"Caffeine delivery."
"See, my coffee serves multiple purposes. Caffeine and happiness." Itadori licks whipped cream off his upper lip, completely unselfconscious. "You should try pursuing happiness sometime."
"I'm perfectly content."
"Content isn't the same as happy. The spellings are different too.”
"It's close enough."
"Is it though?" Itadori tilts his head, and there's something more thoughtful in his expression now. "I don't know. I think happy is better."
"Happy is inefficient. It requires maintenance.”
"You sound like you're talking about a machine." Itadori is smiling, but it's softer now. "You know you're allowed to enjoy things, right? Without justifying them?"
"I enjoy things," Megumi says.
"Like what?"
"Reading. Studying. Organizing information."
"Those are all productive things." Itadori still has whipped cream on his nose, and it's distracting. "What do you do for fun? Just fun, nothing productive."
Megumi considers this. He can't actually think of anything. Everything he does has a purpose, a goal, a measurable outcome.
"Exactly," Itadori says, reading his silence correctly. "You need hobbies."
"I have hobbies."
"Studying isn't a hobby. It's an obligation." Itadori takes another sip of his drink. "What about movies? Music? Going out with friends?"
"I don't have time for that."
"You have time. You just don't make time. There's a difference." He's not being judgmental, just observational.
"When's the last time you did something just because it sounded fun?"
Megumi thinks about it. He can't remember. Everything he does is scheduled, purposeful, part of a larger plan.
"This is depressing," Itadori announces. "We're fixing this.”
"There's nothing to fix."
"You can't remember the last time you had fun. That needs fixing." Itadori is animated now, gesturing with his cup, whipped cream still on his nose. "What do you like? What sounds good?"
"I like what I'm already doing."
"Okay, but if you could do anything. Anything at all, no judgment, no productivity requirements. What would it be?"
No one's ever asked Megumi that before. He doesn't know how to answer. His mind is blank, or maybe too full, cycling through practical concerns and dismissing everything as wasteful or unnecessary.
"You have whipped cream on your nose," he says instead.
Itadori blinks, then laughs and wipes at his face. "Gone?"
"Other side." Itadori wipes the wrong side.
"No, your left."
"This is my left."
"From my perspective."
"Oh." Itadori wipes again, misses again, and Megumi doesn't think. He just reaches across the table with a napkin and wipes it off himself.
The moment his hand makes contact he realizes what he's done. This is too familiar. Too casual. Too much like something friends do, or something more than friends do.
He pulls back quickly.
Itadori is staring at him, eyes wide, smile frozen on his face.
"It was distracting," Megumi says.
"Oh." Itadori's voice is quieter now. "Thanks."
The silence that follows is awkward in a way their previous silences haven't been. Megumi drinks his flowered coffee even though it's still too hot. Itadori drinks his and doesn't get whipped cream on his nose this time.
"So," Itadori says eventually, "pathology."
"What about it?"
"We should probably talk about it. Since this is technically a tutoring extension." He's smiling again, but there's something uncertain in it now. "What's Chapter 6 about?”
Megumi latches onto the safe topic gratefully. "Inflammation. The acute response to cellular injury."
"Oh, that sounds intense."
"It's a cascade of cellular and molecular events designed to eliminate the initial cause of injury and initiate repair."
"I did not understand whatever you said. But when you say it like that, it sounds cool." Itadori leans forward, back in comfortable territory. "How does it work?"
And just like that, they're back. The awkwardness dissipates as Megumi explains vascular changes and cellular infiltration, and Itadori listens with his whole body, asking questions that show he's actually thinking about the concepts.
It's easy, talking about pathology. Megumi knows what to do here.
"So inflammation can be good or bad," Itadori summarizes, twenty minutes later. "Good if it's controlled and helps healing. Bad if it's excessive or chronic."
"Essentially correct."
"Like most things." Itadori's smile is back to full brightness now. "Too much of anything is bad. Even good things."
"That's overly simplified."
"I'm great at oversimplifying." He drains the last of his coffee. "It's one of my many talents."
"What are the others?" Megumi doesn't know why he asked. The question just came out.
Itadori's eyes widen slightly, surprised, then his smile turns playful. "Are you asking about my talents? Megumi, that's flirting.”
"That's not – I was just –” Megumi's face is burning. "I was making conversation."
"Uh-huh." Itadori is definitely enjoying this. "Well, let's see. I'm good with animals. I can juggle. I make excellent hot chocolate. I can touch my tongue to my nose. Want to see?"
"No."
"You definitely want to see." Itadori is already doing it, sticking out his tongue and touching the tip to his nose. It's ridiculous and childish and shouldn't be endearing but somehow is anyway.
"That's not a talent. That's just genetics."
"Genetics is destiny." Itadori grins. "What about you? Any hidden talents?"
"No."
"Come on. Everyone has something."
"I don't."
"You can organize information like a supercomputer. That's a talent."
"That's just basic academic competency."
"It's really not." Itadori is looking at him with that soft expression again. "You're really smart, you know that? Like, intimidatingly smart."
"I'm adequately intelligent."
"There you go again with 'adequate.'" Itadori rolls his eyes as he shakes his head. "You know it's okay to be good at things, right? You don't have to downplay it.”
"I'm not downplaying anything. I'm being accurate."
"You're being modest. It's actually kind of annoying." But Itadori is smiling when he says it. "Just accept the compliment. You're smart. You're a good teacher. You're helping me actually understand pathology for the first time. These are facts."
Megumi doesn't know what to do with direct compliments. With someone who just says things, honest and open, without ulterior motive or social maneuvering.
"You're easy to teach," he says finally.
"And you're easy to learn from." Itadori glances at his phone, and his expression falls slightly. "Oh man, I should actually get going. I have a test tomorrow.”
They stand, and Itadori manages to get all five books balanced in his arms again. Megumi has the irrational urge to offer to carry some of them, but that would mean walking with Itadori to wherever he's going, and that would be extending this further than he already has.
Outside, the evening has settled into full darkness. The streetlights are on, casting orange pools of light on the sidewalk.
"Thanks for the coffee," Itadori says. "And the conversation. And the sample of weird floral coffee."
"You're the one who ordered it."
"And you're the one who drank it." Itadori's grin is bright even in the dim light. "Progress."
"It's not –”
"See you Wednesday, Megumi." Itadori is already backing away, books balanced, still grinning. "Four PM. Five alarms. I'll be there."
"You better be."
"Is that concern? Are you worried about me?"
"I'm worried about my time being wasted."
"Sure you are." Itadori's grin widens. "Bye!"
He turns and walks away, somehow managing not to drop the books, and Megumi watches him go. Watches until the pink hair disappears around the corner, until he can't see him anymore.
Then he stands there for another moment, in front of the coffee shop, in the evening dark, trying to figure out what just happened.
He came here to discuss payment for sessions. They didn't discuss that. They didn't discuss anything useful. They talked about coffee and happiness and hidden talents, and Megumi wiped whipped cream off Itadori's nose like it was a normal thing to do. This was not productive at all.
So why did Megumi have fun?