Chapter Text
Megumi was burning. It felt like every single joint, muscle and tendon in his body was on fire. If hell on Earth was real, it would be ballet. Nothing had ever made him want to live as much as it made him want to die.
The music of Siegfried’s Waltz echoes around the timeworn walls of Tokyo Residential Dance Academy. The piano mechanisms abruptly stopped with Suguru Geto’s voice cutting through them, “Again. Be lighter this time. You are not a normal human, you are a ballerina."
The music begins again. Megumi runs through the waltz again, emphasizing his leaps, landing like a feather. Stretching his body until his bones threaten to snap in half.
His body is fueled with barely two hours of sleep and an empty stomach. This is what death must feel like.
When Megumi gets to his dorm, he won’t do anything but rewatch his academy’s old Swan Lake tapes for another few hours. He focuses solely on ballet. Megumi knows nothing other than ballet and he doesn’t want to.
Studying for his exams should’ve taken priority, but he won’t study until he perfects this. He was chosen as Seigfried in Swan Lake. There is no room for mistakes, only perfection.
And Megumi will be perfect. The music cuts again. “Better,” Geto says silkily. “Fine rehearsal everyone, be sure to cool down properly.”
Walking over to his bag, Megumi reaches for his water, only to realize he had forgotten it. Dragging a hand down his face and quickly throwing on his cooldown hoodie, he heads downstairs. He mentally curses whoever designed the building for not putting one on his floor.
Megumi sighs as he leaves the studio and descends the stairs of his dance academy, heading towards the second floor.
Loud music blares from a nearby studio causing him to jump—the hip hop studio. Megumi prickles as annoyance flares in the pit of his stomach. His distaste for the hip hop dancers was evident—a matter of fact.
He leans down to the water fountain and drinks the cool liquid until he’s satisfied. Sighing softly, he walks back to the stairwell to get back in time to cool down.
While he walks back up the stairs, his vision darkens around the edges, and his legs threaten to give. Megumi smacks himself, and forces it to go away. He can’t faint during practice. If it starts to show that he’s getting bad again, he could be forced to quit. He pushes open the studio door, searching for Maki.
He finds her, and settles into a straddle while facing her and falls into a steady conversation.
“How are you feeling about this act so far? Geto’s being kind of picky, don't you think?” Maki questions. Megumi sucks his teeth, mulling over the question.
Maki was his older cousin, and an unfairly talented ballerina. She was to play the role of the Baroness for this season's piece, and she was nailing it.
Unlike him, Maki had a healthier relationship to the ballet world, so of course she would believe Geto was picky. Megumi knows that perfection is expected for all of the dancers, and that it’s Geto’s job to make sure that standard is met. But since he was unwilling to face another lecture from her about being a perfectionist, he responds with a nod and a hum in agreement.
“I’m going to grab some food with Nobara after her rehearsal is done. You want to come with?” Maki asks hopefully.
Nobara Kugisaki was a hip-hop dancer downstairs, and his cousin’s girlfriend. Because they attended the same dance academy, and the family relations, they were all mutual friends and commonly hung out after practices.
Megumi grimaced, “I would, but I have to study for the history exam we have tomorrow.”
That was a lie.
Megumi loves history, and the last time he had to study for any history class was when Gojo forced him. Hell, he didn't even have a history exam tomorrow. But he will use any excuse to not have to go out. Just the thought of food sitting in his stomach, weighing him down, made bile rise in his throat.
Before Maki can protest, he hops up and grabs his things. “I’m going to head to my dorm now. See you later.” Rounding the corner, he runs smack dab into a body.
“Fuck,” Megumi snarled. “Could you actually watch where you’re-” Megumi falters mid sentence.
As he drags his eyes up from the ground, he comes face to face with a pink-haired man, his face slapped with a look of horror that makes Megumi want to punch him.
“Oh my go—holy shit, my bad,” The man scrambles to apologize.
“It’s fine,” Megumi mutters back.
The man rubs the back of neck sheepishly, his cheeks tinted with a light blush. “Have you seen Maki around?”
“Why?” Megumi bites out.
“Oh, um, her girlfriend fell while we were working on some tricks, and she’s asking for her. I’m Yuuji Itadori, by the way!”
The man grins and extends his hand towards Megumi.
“You mean Kugiskai?” Megumi asked slowly. “Is everything alright?”
“Yeah, Kugisaki’s the one. She’s gonna head to the ER, but she was squawking at me to get Maki,” Itadori fidgeted.
Megumi had heard people talking about this man. He was one of, if not the best dancer at their academy.
Stupid or not, it irked Megumi every time people talked about Itadori.
Though they were in completely different genres of dance, Megumi felt jealous at all the recognition that man would get. He wouldn't consider himself a cocky person, but his skill and technique was unmatched.
But apparently, everyone wanted to talk about Yuuji Itadori and how good he was. So, stupid or not, Megumi had unofficially dubbed Yuuji Itadori his rival.
Yuuji sheepishly pulls back his hand. “Uh, so, what’s your name?” snapping Megumi out of his daze. “It’s Megumi Fushiguro.” He mutters, “and, Maki should be inside the ballet studio.”
“Okay, thanks!” Yuuji grins as Megumi pushes by him and out of the ballet studio. He shakes his head to himself and straightens up before continuing his journey to his dorm.
When he arrives at his dorm room, he flops down onto his bed and stares at the ceiling. Looking up, he stared at his ceiling fan spinning. Poor Megumi’s head felt like a ceiling fan at top speed.
He jerks up and grabs a towel, heading for the bathroom.
Not only is a shower a welcome distraction from his racing thoughts, but it’ll also help in chasing away the soreness from ballet. The sound of the shower fills the room, drowning out his racing thoughts.
Megumi waits until the bathroom has filled with plenty of steam before he steps under the spray and begins to clean himself off, letting the hot water scald away the remnants of the day.
Thirty minutes later, after he’s done with his shower, he walks back into his bedroom and turns on the TV. There’s some shitty action movie playing on the screen while Megumi walks over and grabs a water from the minifridge in the corner of his room.
He places the water on the coffee table and flops heavily down onto the couch, the day finally catching up to him. He takes a long drink before changing the screen to his academy’s old Swan Lake tapes. After about ten minutes of studying them like his life depended on it (it does), he hears his phone buzz.
He reaches over and grabs his phone off the side table. There’s 2 missed calls from Maki. Huh. Maki rarely calls him, rather she sticks to texting. He quickly opens his phone to call Maki back. The phone rings. Once… twice… Maki picks up.
“Megumi? Why weren’t you picking up the phone?” Maki's voice carries undertones of worry that make Megumi uneasy. “Is everything alright with Nobara?” Megumi asks. “How the hell do you know about that?” Maki demanded.
“Oh, um, I ran into this guy earlier, who said something about that,” he replied. Realization fills Maki’s voice as she says, “Ohh, it was Yuuji, wasn't it? He dances with Nobara in Gojo’s studio. Now that I think about it, it’s kind of funny that you two met, because you’re, like, polar opposites.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Megumi asks suspiciously. “Well you’ve met the guy. He’s so loud and full of energy…he’s like walking sunshine.”
Megumi scoffs.
“Why does everyone love him so much anyways?” he asks. “Like I just said, you've met the guy. I mean, I may be like really gay, but-” Maki makes a low whistle. Choosing peace, Megumi rolls his eyes big time, instead of making a comment. Maki barks out a laugh, “Oh my god, I could practically hear your eye roll on the other side of the phone”.
“Well, it’s so annoying how everyone always talks about him like he’s a celebrity,” Megumi retorts. “Okay, and maybe people would like you more if you didn't look like you want to kill everyone in a ten mile radius all the time,” Maki shoots back.
“Your RBF is terrible,” she apparently just had to add. “‘Kay great, anyways, how’s Kugisaki?” Megumi asks in an attempt to change the topic, to save himself from being insulted any further.
Maki chuckles before exhaling slowly. “She dislocated her hip. I know that doesn't sound all that bad, but she can't fully return to dance for months. I’m so upset for her…this will screw up the rest of her dance career. She’s in so much pain too, but she is acting like she's not,” her voice heavy with emotion.
“I’m sorry. I’ll try to swing by and see you guys soon” Megumi says, voice laced with empathy.
Megumi knew what Kugisaki was going through. His own stress fractures in his shins terrorized him every rehearsal. And like Kugisaki, he refused to tell anyone when he was in pain.
“Anyways, I’ll let you go now, Megs. Promise me you’ll get some sleep tonight…and that you’ll eat something for dinner.”
“Mhmm,” he humes in false agreement. “‘Night Maki. Tell Kugisaki I say hi.” “Will do,” Maki sighs, ending the call.
Megumi resumes the old tapes, ignoring his cousin’s advice to rest and eat. As his eyes become heavy-lidded, and he can no longer concentrate on the dancers, Megumi makes his way to the bathroom to get ready for bed.
Spitting his toothpaste into the sink, he looks up into the mirror. As he studied his face, the only words he could use to describe himself were washed out.
His pale skin harshly contrasted with his darkened under eyes: His hollowed cheeks and sickly complex made him look like a dead person. Megumi had always been pale, but now he just looked drained. If Tsumiki saw me now…, he thought to himself.
He giggles to himself about how she’d fret about him when his eating changed. Every time it happened, he would always come home to have large cooked meals for him while Tsumiki watched him eat.
I miss you, his mind allowed that thought to slip in before shutting the topic down internally.
Groaning, Megumi runs a hand over his face. He checks the time on his phone. The screen reads 1:38am. Morning practice will be a variant of hell in a few hours. Maybe he could get some sleep in his history class…
Collapsing into bed, he checks his alarm is set for 5:45am. He drops his phone on his nightstand and shifts around for a few moments, trying to get comfortable before he drifts into yet another restless slumber.
————————————————
He wakes up to the sound of his alarm blaring in his left ear. Megumi wants to scream. He would if he didn’t feel like he just got hit by a truck and blasted into a million pieces.
Turning his face into his pillow, he makes a half-muffled sob into it.
After a few moments, Megumi finally scraped together the will to rise from his bed. He groggily makes his way to the bathroom, almost succumbing to his tiredness while brushing his teeth.
A heavy sigh releases from his lips as he makes his way to the kitchen to consume something before he faints. Megumi pours himself a mug of coffee, black, like how he always drank it.
Searching for something to eat, he settled on a banana and a yogurt. While he ate, Megumi scoured his dorm for his things so he could pack both his ballet and school bag for the day, double checking he had his water today.
He dresses and quickly slips out of his dorm and out into the outside world.
The sharp January air was like a slap to the face, making his eyes water and his nose burn. The sky was drained of all color with little snowflakes descending all around, mirroring Megumi’s mood.
By the time he made it to the studio building, Megumi’s spikey dark hair and navy coat was covered in small flurries.
Crossing the lobby as fast as possible, he made a beeline for the stairs.
Megumi tended to avoid areas where people would recognize him and try to make awkward small talk, hence why he steered clear of elevators.
He began to climb the stairs, appreciative of the silence—with the exception of the humming lights overhead.
But, since all good things must come to an end, the silence was soon shattered by the thundering of footsteps descending the stairs.
As the footsteps got closer, Megumi sent a silent prayer to the universe that it wasn't someone he knew.
“Fushiguro!” an overly excited voice called from above.
Goddamit.
Megumi unwillingly drags his gaze up from the floor to face whoever dares to be this awake at this demented hour.
Oh.
The universe must actually hate him.
“Long time no see,” Yuuji Itadori grins, much closer than before.
Megumi frowns, “Itadori,” he says in acknowledgment.
“Watcha doin’?,” Itadori asks with a shit-eating grin on his face.
Megumi scoffs at the man’s lack of ability to use context clues.
“I’m going to morning practice, obviously,” he snaps. “What are you doing? Isn’t the hip hop studio on the second floor?”
“Same as you, Fushiguro! I was just upstairs talking to Maki about Kugisaki,” Itadori says in his all-to-bright voice.
“Well, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get to my rehearsal," Megumi bites out.
“Alright, see you around!” Itadori calls, because Megumi had already stalked past him and up the stairs.
He slips into the studio, joining Maki at the barre as soon as he is ready.
As the dancers warm up, Maki leans over to him,“You look like you lost a fight with your pillow.” “Shut up, Geto will cream his pants if we’re caught talking,” Megumi whisper-yelped.
“You seem distracted,” she remarked. “I’m not,” he snapped, turning his focus towards the mirrors.
After the barre routine was over, the dancers walked back to their bags to take a sip of water and adjust their attire.
“Oh my gosh, do you know who I saw in the stairwell right before rehearsal?” a voice gushes. Megumi turns to see Yuko Ozawa chatting with another of his fellow dancers, Rika Orimoto.
“Who? Was it Itadori again?” Rika asks. “How’d you know?” a flushing Ozawa squeaks.
“I wonder…it’s not like you talk about him every time he’s within a mile radius of you,” Rika grins.
“Maybe you should just make a move, or ask him out for a coffee,” Rika suggested. “But what if he rejects me! Then I’ll never show my face here again,” Yuko wailed.
“Okay, be a wimp then. And don’t get mad when you never interact with him again,” Rika said. “He might forget about you if you don’t do something soon.”
“Don’t even say anything like that! I can’t even think like that,” Yuko cried.
“Yeah, yeah,” Rika giggled. “Touchy subject.”
Just as Megumi was going to find Maki to ease his suffering, Geto’s airy voice called out as he stepped to the front of the room, “Alright everyone, our focus today will start off once more on Act I, Siegfried’s Waltz. Megumi and Noritoshi please come to the floor, as well as the corps de ballet and the pas de trios. As you know, this scene is about a celebration for Siegfried’s birthday. He and his friend Benno are the main dancers during this. I expect to see high energy for this, as it’s a party.”
Megumi slipped by everyone and made his way to the floor, as Yuta sat down on the piano bench.
The upbeat music began and Megumi began the pas de valse. As he flitted around the room, he allowed himself to sink into the dance.
The high energy of the jumps and turns brought a sharp contrast to the graceful lands and leaps. Despite his often brooding energy, this was one of Megumi’s favorite parts to play. Lifting himself high off the ground and falling back down, he ignored the pain lacing its way through his shin.
He ended the routine with a final chaîné, en dehors. His chest rose and fell, his gasps for breath cutting through the now-silent studio.
“Well done,” Geto said, brushing his long black hair over his shoulder. “Moving on, our focus will be directed to the danse des petits cygne, or the Dance of the Little Swans. Mai, Miwa, Momo, and Rika, please make your way to the center…” the words fading away as Megumi’s heartbeat drops.
Well done.
Well done.
Well done.
The words echoed through Megumi’s head, bouncing from wall to wall in his brain.
That’s not good enough. I need to do better than “well done”. I can do better than “well done.”
Megumi gritted his teeth, pushing down a frustrated noise. While the four little swans gathered and prepared to start, he slunk back to his bag and Maki.
Handing him his water Maki smiled, “You looked great out there.”
Megumi forced a smile and added a clipped, "Thanks." He turned his focus towards the floor and watched as the girls synchronized with their arms linked. Maki might have said something to him, but he was too spaced out to hear.
————————————————
Geto cut practice short. Megumi’s first class was not until 8:30, so he walked back to his dorm to rinse off before then. He made it across the lobby without seeing any familiar faces, and his luck ran strong until he walked into his dorm. Opening the door, an out of place dripping sound made his ears perk up. He followed it all the way to the bathroom, scanning floor to ceiling for the source of the noise.
His eyes landed on a dark area on his ceiling where water was coming out in steady drips.
Oh for fucks sake.
“Shit. Shitshitshitshit,” Megumi whispered. Looking down, he realized his socks were now soaking wet. The bathroom floor was covered in a sheet of water. “I am going to kill myself.”
————————————————
1 hour and too many towels later, he finally gets in the shower. Megumi has long accepted the fact that he is going to be late to his first class. What a shit start to a new semester. Might as well not show up all sweaty since there would be new people in his classes. The hot shower water had Megumi’s vision darkening every so often, so he took it as his cue to turn it off. He dried off quickly, and threw on a hoodie and sweatpants. His stomach growled persistently as he walked by his small fridge.
Ignoring the feeling, he grabbed his bag and headed out to class.
Megumi’s dark hair hung flatter than typical, the dark strands still dripping water. The droplets ran down his neck and threatened to freeze in the cold air.
His brisk pace slowed to a halt as he approached the doors to the studio once more. He was greeted by warm air, and a silent lobby. Walking to the opposite side of the building, Megumi checked his phone for the thousandth time. The time read 8:29. Not terrible, considering the circumstances.
The stairwells to the academic area were empty, save for the few students playing hooky this morning.
Making it to his floor, Megumi reached for the door handle, only for it to be flung open straight in his face.
“GAHH,” a high pitched yelp broke through the silence followed with a smack to the face.
“Jesus Gojo, what the fuck was that for?” Megumi demanded, cupping his reddening cheek.
“Oopsies, sorry Megs, for a minute I thought you were your dad and it triggered my fight or flight instinct,” the assaulter apologized.
Satoru Gojo, aka Megumi’s legal guardian (his father was a deadbeat), was the literal definition of a walking hurricane. As annoying as he was, Megumi has grown quite fond of him throughout the years. Either way, it was hard to catch a break from him since he taught both hip hop and science at Megumi’s dance academy.
His relationship with Megumi’s real father was complicated to say the least. Megumi didn’t know much about it, but he had heard about an incident where they tried to kill each other.
“Say, Megs, aren't you a little late for class? That’s uncharacteristic,” Gojo giggled.
Adjusting his bag’s strap he sighed, “Whatever, just get out of my way.”
“Oooh, someone's crankyyy,” Gojo sang.
“Why don't you go chase after Geto or something instead of bothering me,” Megumi grumbled.
“WHAT?” Gojo gasped. “MY RELATIONSHIP WITH SUGURU HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH TH–”
Megumi slammed the door shut, though he did self consciously make sure to fluff up his hair a bit more. Whatever. His focus should be on getting to the class he was already late for. He would deal with Gojo’s overreaction problem later.
For now he just needed to survive his class.