Archive of Our Own ^beta

"The train's running," Itadori says, with the same kind of dumbfounded voice that someone might use to say, that pig is flying.

"It is," Megumi agrees. They both stare at the screen hanging above the train platform, which is somehow still working despite the tiny Grade Four curse gnawing at its corner. Absently, Megumi flicks his wrist. At his side, Gama lashes out its tongue, grabs the curse, and promptly reels it back in to swallow it whole.

A pleasant-sounding ding echoes from the station speaker. Itadori twitches, looking for a moment like he's going to jump at the speaker and punch it. 

"The next train to Asakusa Station will arrive in four minutes," the mechanical announcement says, over the sound of Gama gulping down the curse. Megumi looks at Itadori. Itadori looks at Megumi. 

"So," Itadori says. "We gotta wait for four minutes, I guess."

Megumi nods numbly, following Itadori to one of the benches lining the train platform. They both sit down on it gingerly, like it might break beneath them; when it doesn't, Itadori heaves a great sigh and leans back against it. Megumi doesn't. He keeps his back ramrod-straight, his hands on his knees.

The train's running. 

It's such a simple thing, something he wouldn't have thought anything of before Halloween, but now it almost seems too good to be true. The station seems almost untouched, too. There are no bags left thrown on the ground in a panic, no ominous bloodstains smeared on the walls, no scraps of clothing or cracked phones or dented staircase railings.

There are no bodies, either. Not that they've run into that many—only two, both of which Megumi surreptitiously steered Itadori away from before he could see them—but Megumi knows that they're out there. Kenjaku unleashed an army of curses upon Japan; there's no way there haven't been major casualties. Megumi glances at Itadori, who's got his head tilted back and his eyes closed, and wonders if he's thought about it. If he buried any strangers in the days that Megumi spent looking for him.  

Four minutes has never felt so long. When the train arrives, its carriages slightly battered-looking but mostly okay, Megumi can still barely believe it. He and Itadori get up to walk towards the train, and Megumi watches his own reflection in the glass as the train doors slide open.

"I'll check it out with Kon first," he tells Itadori, not giving him time to answer before he steps onboard. Kon emerges from his shadow, sniffing cautiously at the air; it doesn't snarl or growl, which means there's no immediate danger. The carriage is kind of banged-up, though. It's empty, but some of the poles are bent sideways, and one row of seats has been ripped clean off the wall. Megumi looks to his left; the next carriage over seems better off. Then he looks to his right, and—

Through the window in the top half of the doors, he can see the very edge of someone's head, little tufts of black hair pressed against the glass. He can also see that the glass is bloodied and cracked; the person was likely thrown against it. They're not moving.

Megumi inhales through his nose and out through his mouth. He can't sense any cursed energy nearby, so if that was a curse's doing, then it's long-gone by now. He turns back to Itadori.

"It looks safe," he says. "Let's go left."

Itadori nods, stepping onto the train. Megumi moves so that he's blocking Itadori's view of the right carriage, letting Itadori take the lead as they head to the left. They walk through the doors, emerging into an empty carriage, and Megumi breathes a sigh of relief. Itadori sits down, rolling his head back. Megumi hears his neck crack.

"Dude," Itadori sighs, as Megumi sits down next to him. "I've never been so happy to get on a train."

Megumi hums. "It's about forty minutes to Asakusa," he says, glancing down at his phone to check the time. It's late enough to make him grimace. "You should try and get some sleep."

Itadori blinks, straightening up. "What? No, Fushiguro, you should—"

"Haven't you been running around Shibuya with your brother for the last week and a half?" Megumi counters coolly. "Sleep, Itadori. I'll keep watch."

The train lurches forward and starts to move. Itadori chews on his lip. His eyes, Megumi notes, have dark bags beneath them, making his scars from Sukuna stand out even more. There's a noticeable sallow tinge to his skin, too. He just looks...bad. Megumi's pretty sure he hasn't been eating or sleeping. 

To be fair, Megumi hasn't really been eating or sleeping either. He's been too consumed in his mission to find Itadori. But he hasn't been hunted like Itadori was, and he hasn't been fighting nearly as many curses, so he'd still say he's better off.

"Itadori," he says, when Itadori still doesn't say anything. "Seriously. Just go to sleep. You don't know when you'll get another chance."

Itadori's eyes flick from one side of Megumi's face to the other. "You're sure you're okay to keep watch?"

Megumi lifts a hand and gives him a half-assed thump on the head. Itadori lets out a tiny ow, even though Megumi knows it must have barely hurt for him.

"Okay, okay," Itadori says, rubbing his head. "But you should wake me up when we're halfway. We'll swap, okay?"

"Okay," Megumi says, even though he has no intention of doing that. Itadori squints at him suspiciously, like he knows what Megumi is thinking, but he doesn't call Megumi's bluff. He just sighs, crossing his arms over his chest and sliding further down in his seat so his legs splay out over the floor. He pulls the collar of his jacket up and buries his chin in it. Cute, Megumi thinks, and immediately wants to slap himself.

Itadori distracts him by letting out a jaw-cracking yawn. Megumi suspects that he's been holding off his fatigue out of sheer force of will, and now it's hitting him all at once. "G'night, Fushiguro," he mumbles, his eyes drifting closed. "And switch with me later, mmkay? I mean it."

"Okay," Megumi repeats. Itadori nods at him...and then keeps nodding, his head drooping down towards his chest. Megumi raises his brows. So he's one of those people who can fall asleep almost instantly, huh? Somehow, that makes sense. 

Once Itadori starts snoring, Megumi zones out. The train is completely silent except for the rattling of the carriage and the even sound of Itadori's breathing, which is kind of the worst environment for someone like Megumi, because it means his thoughts and doubts run wild. He stares at his and Itadori's reflections in the window on the opposite side of the train, watches how they sway slightly from side to side as the train moves, and he thinks: is this even going to work?

Even if they make it to Hakari's fight ring, there's no guarantee that they'll be able to get themselves in. Nor is there a guarantee that Hakari will agree to help, even if they do manage to get an audience with him. If worse comes to worst, then Megumi will have to be prepared to fight—for both himself and Itadori, since there's a chance that Itadori will refuse to fight depending on who their opponent is. 

Megumi has no such qualms. Maybe he did before, but—not now. Not when it's Tsumiki's life on the line.

He flexes his fingers, glancing down at his shadow. He's been trying to work on being more flexible with it, and, very soon, he may need to put those new skills to use. He can hide in his shadow now, which would be useful for infiltrating Hakari's facility, but he's still not sure how to use it. If he disappears entirely into his own shadow, then does a shadow even remain for him to hide in? Does he just become a Megumi-shaped silhouette on the floor? Can he even move?

Just to test it out, he presses the toe of his shoe against the train floor. He envisions that he's stepping into a pool or something—a pool shaped exactly like his own body, only just big enough to hold him and nothing more. He watches his own foot sink slowly into his shadow, all the way to his heel—

"You've been training," a familiar voice murmurs.

Megumi freezes. Slowly, very slowly, without actually moving his head, he slides his eyes sideways.

From his usual place on Itadori's cheek, Sukuna smiles at him with all of his teeth.

Megumi stares at him for what could be a second or what could be forever. His knee-jerk reaction is to slap Itadori's cheek—his hand twitches with the instinct. It would kill two birds with one stone by waking Itadori up and (hopefully) deterring Sukuna. But...

He hesitates. Sukuna's smile stretches wider. In the artificial fluorescent light of the train, his teeth gleam like a row of coins.

"That little trick with your shadow," he says, his one crimson eye glancing downwards at Megumi's foot. Megumi hastily draws it back up, and Sukuna tuts. "Ah, no, no—show me. I want to see."

Megumi narrows his eyes at him. "Why?"

"Because I haven't seen you do it before," Sukuna says, in a very duh tone of voice. 

Megumi scrunches up his face. What the hell? Of course Sukuna wouldn't have seen him do this before—why would he? It's not like Megumi makes it a habit to show Sukuna every new skill he learns. In fact, he actively tries to avoid it. 

"I'm losing patience," Sukuna says, snapping Megumi out of his thoughts. "Show me. Chop chop."

Chop chop, Megumi mouths to himself in disbelief. He—he should really wake up Itadori. It's the smart thing to do. Besides, Itadori will hate the fact that Megumi was talking to Sukuna without his knowledge. 

But, at the same time...

Sukuna rarely speaks to Megumi. He rarely speaks to anyone other than Itadori, who says that the curse likes to butt in on his everyday life like an unwanted internal monologue. Sometimes Megumi will see Sukuna's eye open on Itadori's cheek, that unnerving red iris fixed on him, but Sukuna always simply closes his eye and disappears again when Megumi catches him watching. 

This is an opportunity that might not come again. And after what happened in Shibuya, Megumi has more than a few questions for Sukuna. If he plays this right, then maybe he'll get some answers, and that possibility is too tempting to give up.

So, instead of doing the obvious and waking Itadori up, Megumi holds his tongue. Technically speaking, Sukuna can see whatever Itadori can see, so he would've found out about Megumi's newest skill sooner or later. If he wants to see Megumi do it now, then Megumi can't think of an immediate consequence.

Slowly, Megumi reaches up with the hand that's not next to Sukuna. He presses it to the tiny bit of window in between his and Itadori's heads. He can see the shadow of it on the glass, and so can Sukuna; he follows Megumi's fingers with his eye as Megumi takes a deep breath and pushes them into his own shadow. It's bizarre, to see his hand disappear like that, skin and flesh vanishing from view until his entire hand is submerged.

"Interesting," Sukuna muses. "And it goes entirely into your shadow? Not through the glass?"

Megumi blinks. Ah, he thinks, a strange thrill going through him. He's asking questions.

If Sukuna is asking questions, then he must be curious. And if he's curious, then he wants something—more specifically, he wants answers. And if he wants answers from Megumi, then...

Then Megumi can use that.

"Well?" Sukuna says. Is that a tiny hint of impatience that Megumi hears in his voice? "Does it go through the glass or not?"

Megumi lifts his chin. "I'll tell you if you let me ask you a question after," he says, feeling entirely more bold than he actually is. Is he really trying to strike a deal with the King of Curses? But—but then again, there's no real harm in this. Itadori has Sukuna well under control. The worst-case scenario is that Sukuna simply goes away again, and then they're both left unsatisfied.

Sukuna blinks at him. It's slow, like a cat—a big cat, Megumi thinks. A tiger assessing unexpected prey. 

Then Sukuna grins. Not just smiles—no, he grins, so wide that it pushes up the skin at either end of his mouth and makes Itadori's brow furrow slightly with discomfort. "Well, aren't you interesting?" he says. "Fine, then. I'll play along. Answer my question, Fushiguro Megumi, and I will answer one of yours. Now, tell me—does your hand go through the glass?"

Megumi wiggles his fingers experimentally, even though neither he nor Sukuna can see it. He feels nothing but a pleasant coolness, like stepping into the shade on a sunny day. If his hand had gone through the glass, it would've been scraped clean off on the tunnel wall.

"No," he says, looking Sukuna dead in the eye. "It only goes into my shadow. Why did you save my life in Shibuya?"

Sukuna's grin, if possible, grows even wider. "I already told you," he says, his voice taking on a mocking tone. "You're interesting."

Megumi scowls. It's not the kind of answer he was looking for, and Sukuna, that asshole, knows it. But Sukuna never said that he would answer Megumi's questions properly, so Megumi can't do anything but grind his teeth.

"Another question," Sukuna says. The train goes through a particularly bumpy patch, and the lights momentarily flicker; Sukuna's eye gleams ruby-red in the darkness, a jewel set in the flesh of Itadori's cheek. Megumi has the distinct feeling that they've started a kind of game, and, despite the fact that Megumi's the one who started it, Sukuna is the one making the rules. "Can you do this with your whole body?"

"Hypothetically, yes," Megumi says, drawing his hand back out of his shadow. Sukuna's eye follows it. "Though I haven't tried. How did you take over Itadori's body in Shibuya?"

"The brat let me," Sukuna says flippantly. Megumi grits his teeth, a spark of anger flaring to life in his chest.

"Itadori would never do that," he says lowly. "Tell the truth."

"That is the truth," Sukuna says, and that anger grows hotter, brighter. Megumi's gaze instinctively goes to the rest of Itadori's face, softened by sleep, and he has the sudden urge to rip Sukuna out of him by the roots. "The brat was losing, just like last time, so he let me out and—"

"No, he didn't," Megumi snaps, curling his hands into fists. At his feet, his shadow ripples around the edges; Sukuna glances down at it sharply. "I know he didn't. What actually happened?"

Sukuna stares at him for a second. His smile slowly fades, and he looks...contemplative, suddenly. Megumi watches him, tense, ready to shake Itadori awake if need be.

"...The brat was almost dead," Sukuna finally says, his voice quieter than before. "He was fed eleven fingers. I took advantage."

Megumi exhales slowly. This, he knows, must be the truth; Sukuna's lost that mocking edge to his voice, like he's actually taking Megumi seriously. If the game earlier was like hide and seek between an adult and a child, then now it's become a game of chess. "Who fed you the fingers?"

"That's another question," Sukuna says. "If I answer, then you answer one of mine."

"Fine," Megumi snaps impatiently. "Who?"

Sukuna clicks his tongue. "No one important," he says. "Two girls and a curse. I killed them all."

He says it with a casualness that makes Megumi's blood run cold. And he realises, suddenly—he's sitting next to a mass murderer. He's having a conversation with a mass murderer. The curse beside him killed thousands of people less than two weeks ago, and he killed countless more when he lived in the Heian Era. And—and now he's here, trading questions with Megumi for no apparent reason.

Why? Why? It can't just be that Megumi's interesting. Sukuna has to have some kind of ulterior motive. Megumi just can't figure out what it is, and Sukuna sure as hell isn't going to tell him.

Sukuna clears his throat. "My turn," he says. "You have faith in the brat. Why?"

...Huh?

Megumi blinks. It's not what he was expecting—he thought Sukuna would ask more about his oh-so-interesting technique, not about Itadori. But Sukuna is staring at him now, his eye as unerring as an archer's arrow at a target, and Megumi feels compelled to answer.

"Why wouldn't I?" he says. He glances at Itadori's closed eyes, and he feels some nameless emotion swell up in him like water behind a dam wall. He would trust Itadori with his life. No—he would trust Itadori with Tsumiki's life. "He's a good person."

Sukuna makes a disdainful sound. "He's weak."

"And yet he can still suppress you," Megumi bites back. "So what does that make you?"

Sukuna doesn't respond. For a long moment, neither of them speak.

Itadori breaks the silence with a loud snore. Sukuna's lip curls in utter disgust, and Megumi, absurdly, has to fight the urge to laugh.

"I have another question," he says. This one is older than the others—it's weighed on his mind since before Shibuya. "Back at the detention centre, you said running away was a waste. What did you mean?"

Sukuna scoffs. "Do you really need me to explain that?"

Megumi presses his lips together and doesn't answer. There's what he thinks Sukuna meant, but...he's still not sure. Those words have been in the back of his head for months, now, a nagging loose thread in what Megumi knows of Sukuna and of himself.

"Fine," Sukuna says, when Megumi doesn't say anything. "Let me answer your question with a question, Fushiguro Megumi: why do you only try to use your own shadow?"

It's such a stupid question that Megumi almost barks out a laugh. "What?" he says disbelievingly. "It's my technique. Obviously I can only use my shadow."

Sukuna just stares at him. Megumi stares back and slowly, slowly, doubt creeps in.

"...It is my technique," he says. Sukuna doesn't so much as blink. "There's no way I can use shadows other than my own."

"Try it," Sukuna says simply. 

Megumi splutters. "What?"

"Try it," Sukuna repeats, his voice brooking no argument. The way he says it makes it sound like fact: Megumi will try it, whether he wants to or not. "Try the brat's shadow. Move between yours and his."

"That's impossible."

"For others? Yes, perhaps. Not you." Sukuna fixes Megumi with a hard red stare. "Try it."

Megumi opens his mouth, then closes it again. He's been thrown off-guard, and he hates it. Sukuna is still staring at him, his gaze almost oppressive, like a laser beam forcing Megumi into doing as he says.

"I haven't even hid my whole body in my shadow yet," Megumi tries.

"But you can," Sukuna counters. "Hypothetically. You said so yourself. Now try it." 

Megumi digs his nails into his palms. He knows there's nothing forcing him into doing as Sukuna says. Despite how it feels right now, Megumi holds the power in this conversation. At any point, he could just wake Itadori up, and then Sukuna would get locked away back in whatever crevice of Itadori's mind he usually hangs out in.

But...

The last time Megumi and Sukuna had a real conversation like this, Sukuna's words had helped him realise he could open his Domain instead of just dying. Sukuna had been right last time, about him being able to defeat a Special Grade, so...

What if he's right again?

If Megumi can travel between shadows that aren't his own, then it makes the problem of Hakari's fight ring much easier. So if Sukuna thinks he can do it, then...there's no harm in trying, right?

Slowly, Megumi presses his back into the train seat. He shuts his eyes, picturing that pool again. It's shaped perfectly in his image, and it's right behind him. Slowly, at a snail's pace, the plastic of the train seat seems to melt away into nothing; coolness envelopes Megumi from behind. First his back, then his arms, then his waist and legs, and finally, as his heart threatens to beat out of his chest with anxiety—his face.

Once Megumi can no longer feel anything solid, he opens his eyes.

It's like seeing everything from underwater, only there are no ripples or refraction. Simply a sense of distance, a sense of separation; Megumi can see everything through a dim haze, like he's looking through a heavily tinted window. He can see the train seat he was sitting on, and there, next to it—

Sukuna is staring right at him.

A chill goes down Megumi's spine. He—he's hidden, right? He's in his own shadow. Sukuna shouldn't be able to see him at all, and yet there he is, looking right at Megumi. Even when Megumi shuffles over, Sukuna's gaze follows him.

Move between yours and his, Sukuna had said. Move between his and Itadori's shadows—well, he's already entirely in his own shadow, so that's the first part down. He's not quite sure how this works, but if he just moves towards where Itadori's back is, then he's pretty sure he can figure it out.

He's coming out of the pool. That's what he has to imagine—he's swimming up from a great depth, and now he's breaking the surface of the water. He watches Itadori grow closer, closer—

Megumi pokes his head out of Itadori's shadow and immediately thinks: what the fuck, I did it.

He—he did it. He's only got his head and neck out right now, but he's in Itadori's shadow. He's emerged from the shadow that Itadori was casting on the window behind him, so he's practically cheek-to-cheek with Itadori's drooling face. He did it. He did it—

"Good," Sukuna murmurs, right in Megumi's ear, and Megumi's heart damn near leaps out of his chest. Fuck, he'd almost forgotten. "That's very good."

He sounds...approving, almost. Like a teacher. Slowly, hardly daring to breathe, Megumi turns his head to look at him. He's so close to Itadori that he and Sukuna's eye are barely an inch apart, and for a second, they just stare at each other. Megumi feels—strange. It's some kind of elation, almost pride, like the very first time he showed Gojo his Divine Dogs. 

"I did it," he says numbly, all in one breathless exhale that makes Itadori's eyelids twitch. "I—I did it."

I did it. Did you see?

Sukuna's mouth twists into a wry smile. Not mocking, the way it was earlier—not like he's toying with Megumi. No, this is different. "You did," he says. "Congratulations, Fushiguro Megumi. Now, when you arrive at that gambling ring of yours, at least you can give them something to bet on."

Megumi stares. He...well, maybe he won't get into the ring—it'll be better if Itadori fights—but this changes everything. This means that he can hide in the shadow of Hakari himself, if he needs to. "Yeah," he murmurs absently, right as the train rocks. It makes him sway sideways into Itadori, and he lets out a winded oof—

Right beside him, so close that their lashes are nearly touching, Itadori's eyes flicker open.

"Wha...Fushiguro?"

Megumi jolts back, his whole face flushing hot as he scrambles to get away from Itadori. He proceeds to fall entirely out of Itadori's shadow, which means that he both crashes unceremoniously on the floor and accidentally knees Itadori in the face.

"Ow! Fushiguro, what the—"

"I'm sorry!"

"What are you—"

Itadori's cut off by a low, rumbling laugh. Megumi watches as Itadori's eyes widen with shock and horror—he slaps his hand to his face immediately, only for Sukuna to manifest on the back of his hand instead, still laughing.

"What are you doing here?" Itadori hisses, with so much vitriol in his voice that Megumi's actually taken back. 

Sukuna's laughs die down into chuckles. "I was having a conversation," he says, and something curdles in Megumi's stomach. He sits up slowly on the train floor, watching as Itadori clearly puts the pieces together—Sukuna had a conversation, and it wasn't with him, and the only other person on the train is...

Itadori turns to look at him. And his face—

Megumi swallows. Itadori looks a little betrayed, a little terrified, but most of all, he looks confused. What the hell? his wide eyes seem to ask. Why were you talking to him, Fushiguro? Why did you talk to him?

And Megumi doesn't have an answer for that, other than that he wanted to satisfy his own selfish curiosity. Shame burns hot in his chest, and it's quickly followed by indignance, because—because so what? So what if he talks to Sukuna? He would've told Itadori about it anyway. It was just a conversation, and in the end, it helped Megumi more than Sukuna.

Sukuna lets out another laugh. "What, brat? Are you surprised? You should try to be more like Fushiguro Megumi, you know. He's much more polite, and much less boring."

"Shut up," Itadori snaps, abruptly slamming the back of his hand into the window so hard that the glass cracks. Megumi jolts a little, shocked; Sukuna's mouth simply manifests on Itadori's palm instead.

"Do you see now, Fushiguro Megumi?" he says, taunting. That brief moment of seriousness he'd had earlier is entirely gone—now that Itadori is awake, he seems almost manic, like he's trying to get a rise out of them both. "There's my answer to your question. Wouldn't it have been such a waste if you only did what you thought you could do?"

"I'm going to feed you a dirty sock," Itadori threatens. Sukuna makes a tch sound, but his mouth melts back into Itadori's skin. Itadori digs his nails into his palm, hard, and Megumi hastily stands from the train floor to grab his wrist before he can end up drawing his own blood.

"Itadori—Itadori, stop, you'll bleed—"

"He'll just heal it anyway," Itadori mutters, with a bitterness that Megumi hasn't heard from him before. Megumi furrows his brow, but then Itadori sighs, slumping back against the cracked window. He lets his hand go limp in Megumi's hold.

"Fushiguro," he says. "Did you actually talk to him?"

Megumi exhales. "I did," he says. Itadori's hand twitches under his fingers. "But it was nothing, Itadori. I just asked him some questions."

"But you can't trust him, Fushiguro," Itadori says urgently, sitting up. He rotates his hand and grips Megumi's palm so tight Megumi winces. "I'm serious. He's got something planned for you, and it's going to be something bad. I—you can't trust anything he says, Fushiguro. You can't."

"I know that," Megumi says, biting back the urge to snap. Itadori's staring up at him with huge pleading eyes. Desperate. "I was just trying to figure some stuff out."

"Okay, but seriously, Fushiguro," Itadori says, his voice low. "Just...be careful. Please."

Megumi meets Itadori's eyes. Even with the new bags beneath them, even with the haggard paleness of his skin, his eyes are the same warm shade of brown. "I will," Megumi says. 

Itadori holds out his left hand, his little finger raised. "Pinky promise?"

Megumi can't help but snort. "You still do stuff like that?"

"Hey, don't laugh. I'm serious." Itadori shakes his hand in Megumi's face. "Pinky promise me, dude."

Megumi sighs. He actually finds it kind of endearing, but there's no way he'll ever let Itadori know that. "Fine," he says, lifting his hand and linking his pinky with Itadori's. "I promise I'll be—"

"We are arriving at Asakusa Station," the mechanical announcement breaks in, and Megumi looks up. Sure enough, he can see the train tunnel beginning to end. He drops Itadori's hand, and Itadori twists around to look too as the station comes fully into view.

Once it does, they both make matching sounds of shock.

Asakusa Station is almost completely destroyed. There's barely a platform—it's just disjointed chunks of concrete. The lights are shattered, and only a few of them still work, casting their flickering light over the platform's remains. Megumi can see blood splatters at the far edge of the light's reach. The silence is deafening.

Finally, Megumi clears his throat. "We have to switch here," he says hoarsely, despite the fact that it would be a miracle if they could catch another train from this station. "It's the end of the line."

Itadori nods, slowly rising from his seat as the train shudders to a stop. When the doors open, he steps in front of Megumi, his feet in a defensive stance. He holds up a hand to signal Megumi to wait as he steps out of the train, looking around cautiously. Nothing comes jumping out of the darkness to attack him, so Megumi watches him wobble forward in the dim light, bits of rubble shifting beneath his feet.

"Okay, this part's more stable," Itadori finally says. He kicks some bits of concrete around him, then leans forward and holds out his hand for Megumi to take. "Come on."

For a second, in the flickering light of the ruined station, Megumi swears he sees a grinning mouth in the divot of Itadori's palm. 

No—he must be seeing things. He blinks, and the mouth is gone again. Nothing but calloused skin. He reaches out, watching as his fingers cast a shadow over Itadori's palm.

He takes Itadori's hand and steps off the train.