Goth in love

The first time Yuki saw Megumi Fushiguro, she decided the universe had finally done something right. He was standing in the courtyard of Tokyo Jujutsu High, the sunlight catching the sharp angles of his face and the unruly spikes of his dark hair. While everyone else wore the standard navy uniform with a sense of duty, Yuki had modified hers to fit her own "goth-lite" aesthetic. Her skirt was dangerously short, her black boots clacked against the stone, and her white undershirt was cropped so high that a generous sliver of her midriff was always on display.

She had marched straight up to him, ignored the confused look from the boy with the pink hair standing next to him, and declared, "I think I’m in love with you. Let’s go out."

Megumi hadn't even blinked. "No."

That had been three months ago. Since then, Yuki had become a permanent, energetic fixture in Megumi’s personal space. She was a whirlwind of dark lace and bright smiles, always popping up behind him to compliment the way he summoned his Divine Dogs or the stoic way he drank his tea.

"Megumi! Your hair looks extra pointy today, I love it!" she’d chirp, leaning into his side.

"Go away, Yuki," he’d mutter, moving two steps to the left.

"Give me a chance! Just one date. I’ll pay. I’ll even let you pick the place, even if it’s a boring library," she’d persist, her eyes sparkling with a frantic kind of adoration.

But even the brightest flame flickers when met with a constant cold draft. Slowly, the "no"s started to weigh on her. The rejection wasn't just a challenge anymore; it was starting to feel like she was genuinely a nuisance. The bubbly greetings turned into quiet nods. The clingy physical contact ceased. She stopped asking for dates.

The shift was immediate. Yuki started spending her time with Yuji Itadori instead. Yuji, being the human equivalent of a golden retriever, welcomed her company. They would sit on the steps of the dorms, sharing snacks and laughing loudly.

Megumi watched them from a distance, his book held tightly in his hands. He told himself he was relieved. The "annoyance" was gone. Yet, every time he saw Yuki lean her head on Yuji’s shoulder to look at something on his phone, a strange, sharp pressure built in Megumi’s chest.

"You’re glaring again," Nobara said, popping a piece of gum as she leaned against the railing next to him.

"I’m not glaring," Megumi snapped, his eyes still fixed on the way Yuki was giggling at something Yuji said.

"You are. You’re jealous," Nobara smirked, pointing a finger at his furrowed brow. "You spent months treating her like a stray cat you didn't want to feed, and now that someone else is giving her treats, you’re mad. It’s pathetic, Fushiguro."

"I don't care who she spends time with," he lied, his voice dropping an octave.

The breaking point came during a joint mission in a dilapidated shopping mall on the outskirts of Tokyo. The curse was a Grade 2—nothing they couldn't handle—but the floorboards were rotten. During a skirmish, the ground gave way beneath Yuki. She tumbled through the rotted wood, landing hard on the concrete level below.

"Yuki!" Megumi shouted, his heart leaping into his throat. He didn't wait for Yuji or Nobara; he vaulted over the edge, landing gracefully beside her.

She was sitting up, clutching her ankle, her face pale. The usual spark in her eyes was replaced by a grimace of pain. When she saw him, she tried to pull her skirt down, looking embarrassed.

"I’m fine," she whispered, her voice small. "I just tripped. Sorry for being a bother."

The "bother" comment stung more than it should have. Megumi knelt in the dust, his hands hovering over her before he firmly but gently took her ankle in his palm. It was already swelling, turning a nasty shade of purple against her pale skin.

"You aren't a bother," Megumi said, his voice unusually soft.

He didn't give her a chance to argue. He slid one arm under her knees and the other behind her back, lifting her effortlessly. Yuki gasped, her hands instinctively flying up to clutch his shoulders. Up close, she smelled like vanilla and something metallic—the scent of a sorcerer.

"Megumi? You can just help me walk," she stammered, her face turning a deep shade of crimson.

"Be quiet," he said, though there was no bite in it. He held her closer, feeling the warmth of her skin against his forearms.

He carried her all the way back to the transport vehicle and, once they reached the school, straight to Shoko’s infirmary. He didn't leave her side while the doctor wrapped the sprain. He sat on the edge of the cot, watching the way Yuki fidgeted with the hem of her shirt, looking everywhere but at him.

"Thank you," she said eventually, her voice barely audible. "For carrying me. I know you don't like me touching you, so..."

"Yuki," Megumi interrupted. He took a breath, looking at his boots. "I was wrong. About... everything. I didn't give you a chance because I thought you were just being flighty. But I don't like seeing you with Itadori. And I don't like seeing you hurt."

Yuki’s head snapped up, her long black hair swaying. "What are you saying?"

"I want to actually get to know you," he said, finally meeting her gaze. "The real you. Not just the girl who shouts at me in the hallways."

The date happened the next afternoon. Megumi took her to a small, quiet café in Harajuku. It was supposed to be a low-key outing, but Megumi quickly realized that "low-key" was impossible with Yuki.

She wore an even shorter skirt than usual—a pleated black number with silver chains—and a mesh top over her tiny white crop. As they walked through the crowded streets, Megumi felt a protective instinct he hadn't known he possessed. He noticed the way college-aged men turned their heads to stare at her legs, the way teenagers whispered as she walked by.

Every time a man lingered a second too long on her midriff, Megumi would subtly shift his position, placing himself between Yuki and the gaze of the stranger. He felt a low growl building in his throat.

"Is something wrong, Megumi? You look like you’re hunting a Grade 1 curse," Yuki teased, licking an ice cream cone.

He stopped walking and turned to her. The sun was setting, casting a golden glow over her pale skin and dark clothes. She looked beautiful, energetic, and entirely too captivating for his peace of mind.

"I don't want other people looking at you like that," he admitted, his face heating up.

Yuki blinked, her eyes widening. "Like what?"

"Like they have a right to see you. I’m the one on a date with you," he said, his voice gruff. He took a step closer, invading her personal space for the first time. "Yuki, will you be my girlfriend? Officially?"

Yuki dropped her ice cream. It hit the pavement with a sad thud, but she didn't care. She let out a squeal that made several passersby jump and threw herself at him, her arms wrapping tightly around his neck.

"Yes! Oh my god, yes! I thought you’d never ask!" she screamed into his ear.

Megumi winced at the volume but didn't pull away. Instead, he wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her steady as she vibrated with excitement.

Being Megumi Fushiguro’s girlfriend meant that Yuki’s energy levels doubled. She was a constant shadow, clinging to his arm during briefings, sitting on his lap in the common room, and leaving little gothic trinkets on his desk. To anyone else, it looked like a mismatch—the brooding, serious shadow user and the hyperactive goth girl—but Megumi found he didn't mind the noise anymore. In fact, the silence felt empty without her.

One rainy Tuesday night, they were in Megumi’s dorm room. The lights were dimmed, and a soft lo-fi track played from a small speaker. Megumi was propped up against his headboard, trying to read a manual on advanced barrier techniques.

Yuki, true to form, was not sitting beside him. She was lying directly on top of him, her head resting on his chest, her long hair draped over his lap like a silken shroud. She was wearing an oversized hoodie of his that swallowed her small frame, though she still had her signature boots on, dangling off the end of the bed.

She was unusually quiet, tracing the patterns of the fabric on his chest with her finger. Megumi tried to focus on his book, but it was difficult when he could feel the steady warmth of her body and the rhythmic rise and fall of her breathing.

Suddenly, Yuki shifted, propping herself up on her elbows so she could look him in the eye. Her face was inches from his.

"Megumi?" she whispered.

"Hm?" he responded, not looking up from the page.

"Your heart is going really fast."

Megumi froze. He tried to slow his breathing, but the realization that she was listening to his pulse only made it skip a beat.

"I just finished training an hour ago," he lied, his voice a bit strained. "My metabolism is still high."

Yuki didn't buy it. A mischievous, knowing smile spread across her lips. She leaned down, pressing her ear directly over his heart, her cheek resting against the thin cotton of his shirt.

"It’s getting faster," she giggled, her voice vibrating against his chest. "Are you nervous? Because of me?"

Megumi sighed, giving up on the book and letting it drop to the mattress. He reached down, his fingers tangling in the soft strands of her black hair.

"You’re exhausting," he murmured, but his hand was gentle as he stroked her head.

"But you love it," she countered, looking up at him with those bright, adoring eyes that had once annoyed him so much. Now, they were his favorite thing to look at.

Megumi leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "Yeah. I do."

Yuki beamed, wiggling closer until there was no space left between them. She was clingy, loud, and dressed like a funeral at a nightclub, but as Megumi held her in the quiet of his room, he knew he wouldn't trade the noise for anything in the world. He closed his eyes, finally letting his heart race as fast as it wanted to, lulled to sleep by the girl who had refused to let him stay in the dark.