Archive of Our Own ^beta

1.

Being a teen single parent was surprisingly hard.

Perhaps Satoru should have expected it. In hindsight it really shouldn’t have come as much of a surprise as it did at the time, but he was only eighteen when he made the impulsive decision to take two kids into his house, still just a kid himself. A kid who had been treated all his life as a God and hadn’t yet grown out of the belief that the blood that pulsed through his veins truly held something divine to it.

He wasn’t as blatantly arrogant as he had once been. Not after everything that had happened. Not after almost dying, after experiencing for the first time the bitter taste of failure on his sweet-inclined tongue, not after losing the one person he thought he would never lose.

But he was still just an eighteen year old with no knowledge whatsoever on how to raise children and with the unmovable confidence that came from being naturally great at everything he did.

However, he was quick to find out that all the talent and power and charm in the world don’t matter at all once you find yourself with two small and vulnerable human beings’ existence and wellbeing depending on you. 

He knew that properly raising children required much more than just buying food and clothes and making sure they didn’t smash their heads into something and die. But even just that, even just that bare minimum, was much harder than he had anticipated.

First and foremost, he was suddenly forced to face a simple fact that he had glossed over for all of his life: he couldn’t cook for shit. And, to aggravate the situation, he was also finally put face to face with the reality that his eating habits were complete and utter garbage. He had no idea on what constitutes a healthy and nutritious diet for growing children, but he was sure that his usual diet made of manufactured sweets and instant ramen definitely wasn’t it. 

And so the great Satoru Gojo, the greatest sorcerer alive, found himself spending hours upon hours watching cooking tutorials on YouTube and reading online articles about which foods contained which vitamins and what not. He still wasn’t quite sure on what proteins were, but he was positive that before his impromptu change in lifestyle his body didn’t have any. 

He had literally been stabbed and sliced open from head to hip, yet he still found himself thinking that that experience was still more enjoyable than having to eat his first healthy cooking attempt consisting of overcooked and under seasoned chewy spinach.

Still, he somehow managed to get over that annoying obstacle. He never quite managed to become a good cook or anything, but he was passable, maybe even average, and content with that.      

But aside from that, house chores in their entirety were kicking his ass. 

He had been barely able to pick up after himself while staying in the school’s dorms, so he didn’t know why he ever thought that it would be easy to look after a whole apartment and two more people, but he cursed his naivety. 

The washing machine became his biggest nemesis, and he had to take Megumi and Tsumiki to quite a few impromptu shopping trips after ruining all their laundry time and time again until he finally put his senseless pride aside and decided to actually look up how to use that old washing machine instead of just winging it like he had been doing up until that moment.

Cleaning and dusting were his least favorite activities, even ranking lower than fighting with the higher ups (which became a pretty usual occurrence after he decided to take in the kids of the criminal that almost killed him, something that the elders of the Jujutsu world didn’t really consider a good use of the strongest sorcerer’s time).

And then there was the actual caring for the kids. 

At least, that aspect wasn’t as stressful as it could have been. Tsumiki and Megumi were very independent children, mostly due to the fact that they had gotten used to being alone and looking after one another. It was sad that the two young children had become accustomed to being on their own, but it did make Satoru’s job easier.

They didn’t make any messes, they didn’t get into trouble or require constant supervision. They weren’t loud and agitated, mostly keeping to themselves and spending their free time quietly indulging in their respective hobbies. They didn’t whine or complain, didn’t climb on walls and hang from the chandeliers or wrestle with each other. 

Into his fifth month of parenting he had never even seen either of them cry.

Which is why by then he had basically forgotten that they were still normal children and that children got hurt very easily.

Until he was forcefully reminded of that simple fact. 

It was a normal Tuesday afternoon. 

Satoru was walking with Megumi to pick up Tsumiki from her weekly piano lesson. 

The little girl only had to mention one time that she would have liked to learn to play piano and he was already looking online to find the best piano teacher in the vicinity and adding a state of the art keyboard to his shopping cart, not even stopping once to glance at the price before announcing the news to a shocked but ecstatic Tsumiki.

From that moment on every Tuesday after school she would walk by herself to the music school situated just a block away from her elementary school and Satoru would then go pick her up and take her home, Megumi in tow since he didn’t like the thought of leaving the little boy alone at home. 

He knew that his worry was baseless: the boy was clearly more than capable of being left by himself for much more than the twenty minutes it took him to go pick up his sister and return. Still, leaving him with his sister while Satoru handled a mission and leaving him completely alone in their big apartment were two completely different things, and just the thought of the latter made him anxious, so he ignored Megumi’s complaints each time and dragged him along.

It was also a good excuse to spend some quality time together: they often stopped to get ice cream or crepes on the way back home. He knew that he wasn’t as present as he probably should have been because of his responsibilities as the strongest sorcerer, so he highly valued small moments like those in which he could make the children feel cared for and less alone than he had been growing up.

However, this day was a little different because he and Megumi were incredibly late. 

Satoru had been called in at the last minute to exorcize a special-grade curse and there were no other high-level sorcerers nearby able to intervene. He managed to end it pretty quickly, but it still made him lose way too much time, forcing him to run home, grab Megumi and run back out to pick up Tsumiki, who’s piano lesson had already ended. 

“Slow down!” Megumi complained with an adorable scowl, trying his best to keep up with Satoru and his much longer legs, but falling behind. 

“You hurry up! Move those short chicken legs of yours!” Satoru called back cheekily, making the little boy’s scowl deepen, which in turn made him snicker. It was just too fun to annoy the little boy. He was hilariously grumpy for a six year old.

Still, Satoru quickly glanced back at Megumi to make sure that he hadn’t fallen too far behind, afraid to lose him in the crowd but unwilling to slow down and be late, once again , to pick up Tsumiki. He knew how not knowing when he would arrive (or if ) made the little girl very anxious. She didn’t tell him directly but it was clearly written in her expression each time he made her wait a little too long.

He would hold Megumi’s hand to make sure he stayed beside him, but when he had tried to offer it the kid had simply glared at him and slapped the offered hand away with an indignant scoff. Just as he had done every other time that Satoru had offered.

He laughed it off, writing it off as just the boy being too proud and stubborn, something which he knew a thing or two about, but he couldn’t deny that every rejected affectionate gesture stung just a little bit. 

After all, Tsumiki had already warmed up to Satoru, fully embracing him as their new guardian. He couldn’t understand why Megumi was still so closed off, hostile even. 

He was awakened from his thoughts by a sudden yelp coming from behind him.

He snapped his head back just in time to see Megumi tripping on an uneven point of the sidewalk and clattering down to the floor, his head making a worrying sound as it smacked right against the concrete. 

Satoru grimaced in sympathy, crouching down in front of the fallen boy.

“Jeez, you little klutz. You okay there?” 

When Megumi finally raised his head from the pavement he expected to see the usual glare, perhaps an embarrassed pout. He expected the boy to scowl and grumble that he was fine, that he didn’t need Satoru’s help, and stubbornly resume walking. 

Which is why he was wholly unprepared for what happened next. 

Megumi slowly looked up, a red bump already forming on his forehead, eyes wide and shocked as he met Satoru’s sympathetic gaze for just a second, lower lip trembling.

And then he squeezed his eyes shut and burst into tears.

Satoru froze with cold, bone deep shock. 

Megumi had never cried before. He had barely shown any emotion save for annoyance before that moment. And now he was weeping like the child he actually was, one tiny hand pressing against the throbbing bump on his forehead. 

Satoru was panicking.

Rationally, he knew that it was normal for kids to cry after getting hurt, mostly out of shock rather than actual pain.

But Megumi wasn’t your usual six year old boy, and so the only rational reasoning that came to Satoru’s mind for why he had started crying was that he had gotten brain damage and was actually dying.  

Dramatic? Maybe. But he was still very much new at this whole kids thing, so he figured that it was a perfectly justifiable reaction, thank you very much.

“Shit, oh my God, what do I do, fuck what do I do…” He started murmuring to himself while taking a hold of the crying boy as gently as he could with his unsure hands, helping him sit up and immediately inspecting his deadly wounds. 

The red spot on his head was swelling more and more with every second that passed, and his knees were skimmed and bleeding. 

Satoru was close to a panic attack.

Still he took deep breaths, knowing that Megumi needed him to not freak out at the moment, all the while wondering if he should call Shoko or the hospital.

Megumi was still crying, quiet hiccups and sniffs squeezing at Satoru’s heart.

That was another worrying thing. Megumi wasn’t wailing loudly like most children do when hurt and crying. Just like for everything else he did, he kept quiet.

That had always worried him about Megumi, ever since he first took in the kid. He was just so quiet, quieter than any child should ever be, no matter how shy or introverted. 

It worried him, because it reminded him of another deadly silent child. The completely quiet and achingly sad child that he had once been. 

There were opposite reasons for their quietness: Satoru had been silent because of the countless eyes constantly pointed at him like blinding spotlights, tracking his every move, always demanding something , demanding greatness, demanding order, demanding obedience, demanding undeniable perfection . Those countless eyes turned him into nothing more than a porcelain doll, silent and untainted, terrified of making a sound under the weight of those expectations weighing down on his shoulders, worried that the wrong word or move would send him tumbling off the high pedestal he had been put to stand on. 

Megumi, on the other hand, was quiet because no one had been there for him, no pair of eyes had ever given him more than a passing glance. He never felt the need to make any sound, to laugh or cry loudly like any other child his age, because it wouldn’t have made any difference. No one had been there to soothe his cries or revel in his laughter. He had no one’s attention to catch, no one’s affections to try and win. 

Opposite situations but same results. Opposite situations, but the same small core: a loveless child. 

Growing up, reaching his rebellious stage ( which he never quite grew out of ), Satoru had found solace in being exactly what he had been taught not to be: loud, brash, vulgar, disobedient and eccentric to a fault. He had become loud enough to drown out the voices constantly telling him what to do and who to be. He had decided to jump off that damned pedestal and crush it beneath his foot, decided to actively break through every rule and every expectation, to turn his failure to live up to everything he was bred to be into his best friend instead of a cold, heavy thing clawing up his throat like it had been before.

He doubted that Megumi would ever choose that path. He hoped that he wouldn’t feel the need to. He just wished that the boy would one day stop feeling the need to tip toe through his own home, to try and disappear into the background of his own life. He hoped that one day he would be able to laugh and cry and shout to his heart’s content, knowing that someone would be listening, that his voice mattered.

Still, none of that would ever happen if he died right then and there from a nasty fall, so Satoru focused back on the situation at hand. 

“Megumi, hey Megs, I’m gonna need you to take a few deep breaths with me, okay?” He told the boy, still holding him up and close to him, trying to keep the panic out of his voice.

The boy hiccuped once more but nodded, shakily following Satoru’s lead and taking a few deep breaths.

“You’re doing great, kid.” He smiled, raising his hand to wipe away a few tears from the boy’s reddened face. If he hadn’t been panicking and desperately trying to think of what to do next he would have reveled in the fact that the boy hadn’t flinched away from his touch as usual.

“Does your head still hurt?” He asked, cursing under his breath when the boy nodded, a new stream of tears sliding down his face. 

What if he really had a concussion? Should Satoru go to the hospital just to be sure? How does one even cure a concussion? The few times he had gotten one Shoko had just cured him with reverse cursed technique, should he call Shoko? 

He tried to think rationally. He was getting ahead of himself. First thing’s first, he needed to check if the kid really had a concussion or if it was just a simple bump.

How did Shoko usually check for a concussion? How long has it been since she’s last done it to him? Definitely before he learned to use Infinity continuously, protecting his head from any future nasty hits. Though even before that he didn’t get hit in the head often, he had always been a long range fighter after all. Suguru had been the one to take some pretty hard blows to the head, always rushing to fight hand to hand despite the fact that he could just rely on his curses and lay back safe and sound. When Satoru pointed that out to tease him he would always answer that there was no honor in that, always so damn principled- focus !

He shook his head to push away those unnecessary thoughts, focusing instead on the vague memories of Shoko’s voice echoing through the infirmary. 

“Megumi, do you know where we are and what day it is?” He asked the boy, watching him frown in confusion.

“It’s Tuesday. We’re going to pick Tsumiki up.” He slowly answered, looking at Satoru as if he was stupid, which for once was a huge relief instead of mildly offensive.

“Do you feel dizzy or nauseous?”

“No?”

“Okay, okay. That’s good. Can you follow my finger with your eyes?” He asked again, just to be completely sure, raising his index finger and slowly moving it around, pleased at how the boy easily followed it. 

He let out a sigh of relief, reassured by the fact that the boy really seemed okay, starting to act like his usual self. It was most likely just a bump in the head (still he would make sure to keep a close eye on him for the rest of the day).

“My head still hurts, and my knees too. Do something!” Megumi whined, and it was so unusually child-like that Satoru couldn’t help the amused smile that took over his expression.

“It’s not funny!” Megumi whined once again, stomping his little foot on the floor, and Satoru had to use all of his self-control not to break into giggles and coos. 

“Okay, okay, there’s a pharmacy a block from here, we’ll go there, they’ll have something to help you. In the meantime I should call Tsumiki’s piano teacher to tell her that we’re running late.”

Megumi simply huffed, but he still didn’t bat away Satoru’s hands as they helped him get up. 

He looked a bit unsteady, grimacing in pain and glancing down at his skinned and still bleeding knees with a frown. 

Satoru didn’t hesitate to turn around and crouch in front of the boy, waiting. 

Megumi simply stared blankly at him. “What are you doing.”

Satoru looked at him from over his shoulder, grinning brightly. “Come on, hop on! You’re getting a free ride there. I won’t offer again, so you better not waste this opportunity, kid.”

Megumi hesitated for a few seconds, but then he sighed softly and gave in.

Satoru felt a pair of skinny arms hesitantly wrapping around his neck and a tiny body pressed against his back. This was the closest that the boy had ever been to him, and though it wasn’t really out of his own free volition, Satoru still saw it as a step forward.

In one quick motion he grabbed the underside of the kid’s legs and got up, hoisting him up securely on his back. Megumi tensed at the sudden motion, arms squeezing around Satoru’s neck and almost strangling him.

“You’re squeezing a little too hard there, buddy.” He choked out, half amused and half pained. The boy slowly loosened his grip, huffing silently and not uttering another word. 

And so Satoru started walking towards the pharmacy, shifting his hold of Megumi with one hand as he used the other to call the piano teacher, asking her to put Tsumiki on. He apologized and promised her that he would let her choose whatever she wanted for dinner as a way to make up for being late again. She didn’t sound too happy, but once he explained to her the situation she was quick to go from bitter to worried and understanding, such a protective big sister as always. 

After reassuring her that Megumi was fine with a chuckle ( as if he hadn’t been the one completely freaking out a few minutes prior ) he promised that they would get there as soon as possible. 

Megumi silently listened to the conversation the whole time, and Satoru tried not to show his surprise when the small boy let his head rest on his shoulder, masking the smile in his voice to keep him from taking back his probably unconscious sweet gesture. 

The lady working at the pharmacy was kind and understanding. She gave Satoru an ice pack to keep gently pressed against the bump on Megumi’s head and disinfected his skinned knees, offering then the boy a vast selection of patterned bandaids to choose from.

Megumi chose the ones with little dogs on them, glaring at Satoru when he cooed teasingly.

Surprisingly, once they thanked the lady and got out of the store, Megumi accepted Satoru’s offer to ride on his back again. He hadn’t really expected him to say yes now that the worst of the pain and scare were over, but he kept his surprise and the teasing comments that were just begging to be let out to himself.

Tsumiki was awaiting them at the entrance of the music school, expression contorting with worry as she saw Megumi being carried on Satoru’s back while keeping the ice pack pressed to his forehead with one hand. 

When he saw his sister, Megumi kicked Satoru in the ribs, demanding to be let down. Satoru complied with a pained huff while complaining under his breath about ‘ ungrateful brats ’. 

Once Tsumiki was completely convinced that her little brother really was okay, they all started walking back home. 

Satoru bought them the biggest cone of ice cream that the nearby parlor offered, even if that meant that they would inevitably make a mess of their faces and clothes. He figured that they had earned it.

As agreed, Tsumiki decided on dinner, claiming that she wanted pizza, and so they stopped to pick up an extra large and extra cheesy pizza on the way home, and everything was back to normal. 

Except for one little thing.

That evening, after they had eaten dinner and were in the middle of the Barbie movie that Tsumiki had begged to watch, Megumi yawned, already half asleep, and instead of curling up against the arm of the couch as usual, he tipped to the other side, leaning against Satoru’s arm. 

Satoru smiled, looking fondly down at the sleeping boy.

Being a parent was hard. Being a single teenage parent was pure hell. 

But he didn’t regret it one bit. 

Satoru couldn’t really remember the last time he had been scared while exorcizing a curse. 

He couldn’t really remember if he had ever been scared of a curse at all. 

Even when he was just a child and while walking with his maid he saw curses of all sizes and types lingering nearby, always just staring at him whenever he went, drawn by his power but too afraid to actually approach, he never spared them anything more than an uncaring glance. 

Then he started training his techniques and walking by himself, required by his clan to exorcize whatever curse he encountered, even if weak and non hostile towards him, to prove his strength to the world or something like that. Even then he never found himself faltering. Exorcizing curses was just as natural as eating or sleeping to him.

Once he started attending Jujutsu high and getting assigned first and special level curses on the regular, he kept that same carefree attitude. Suguru had called him arrogant at first, called him reckless, told him that if he didn’t start taking this job seriously it would one day get him killed. Satoru just laughed it off, claiming that it wasn’t arrogance and that someone as weak as Suguru couldn’t understand, relishing in how the boy’s eye would twitch in annoyance every time. 

They hadn’t exactly gotten along in their first few months. But then they got to know each other and Suguru stopped reprimanding him for his attitude on missions. He still called him annoying and full of himself, but he didn’t criticize the way he did his job anymore.

Because it really wasn’t arrogance on Satoru’s part. Or, at least, it wasn’t unfounded arrogance. 

He was the strongest. He was untouchable, unreachable, he was on a higher plane than every and any curse that dared step in his path. 

So it was easy to forget that curses were a very real threat to other people. 

The terrifying reminder came to him on a stifling and humid summer evening.

He was walking Megumi home after the boy’s baseball practice, rambling on and on about whatever came to mind while the kid huffed and sighed but remained quiet, letting him talk as much as he pleased.

He had learned by now that if he asked questions he would just receive one word answers by the boy, so he had taken it upon himself to fill the space with cheerful chatter, never passing up a chance to talk about himself. 

“By the way, when’s your next game, again?” He stopped his animated retelling of his latest mission to glance down at the tiny nine year old.

“This Sunday.” Megumi answered, pushing dark bangs away from his sweaty face. His hair was even spikier and messier than usual, sweat glistening all along his skin mixing in with the dirt still clinging to him and his clothes after a few tumbles on the playing field. Satoru had made a few teasing remarks about his gross appearance, but the boy had simply scowled and ignored him, which wasn’t as fun as when he argued back so he let it go.

“Great. I’ll put it on the calendar as soon as we get home.”

At that Megumi snapped his head towards him, pouting. “I told you, you don’t have to come.”

“Of course I have to! Who’s gonna cheer for you otherwise?” Satoru argued with an indignant scoff, and the boy groaned.

“You will just be all embarrassing like you were at my last game!”

Satoru gasped in faux offense, dramatically putting a hand to his chest. “Since when being supportive of my kid is embarrassing?"

The kid simply glared, and Satoru smirked.

“By the way, this time I think I’m gonna make the banner even larger, and add some glitter, you know to add some sparkle. And instead of writing your actual name I was thinking of writing something like ‘Go Gumi-Bear! ’. Since you love that nickname soooo much!”

The absolute horrified look on Megumi’s face made him cackle like a hyena. 

“You’re not funny.” The boy grumbled, and Satoru grinned mischievously.

“Who said I was joking?”

He would probably have to stay up all Saturday night to make the banner since his rest of the week was packed with missions and meetings, but it would be worth it to see Megumi’s reaction. After all, what were legal guardians for if not to completely embarrass their children on every possible occasion?

Megumi didn’t dignify him with a response, stubbornly refusing to look at him and picking up his pace. 

Satoru snickered, catching up to the boy in just a few short strides as they fell into a comfortable silence. 

They were passing through an old playground where he often took the kids, but it was completely empty at the moment. The stifling heat of the day had probably discouraged most parents from taking their children there just to cook on the sizzling metal of the slides and swings. 

The Sun was setting over the horizon, painting the sky gorgeous shades of orange, red and pink, and turning the walk under the open air a little more bearable, though the humidity was still palpable, making Satoru’s shirt stick uncomfortably to his back.

Cicadas were singing softly from their perch on the surrounding trees, the only sound present along with the light buzz of the distant traffic and the soft crunch of the dry soil under their feet.

That was until a mosquito started buzzing annoyingly around Satoru’s head. 

He huffed and tried to wave it off, but it was stubborn, continuing to frantically circle his head, easily dodging his lazy swats. 

He was so focused on trying to get rid of the infuriating insect that he hadn’t even noticed that Megumi had stopped walking until an unusually small voice called to him.

“Satoru.”

The man swatted one more time at the mosquito before turning back to the kid with an annoyed huff.

“What?”

Megumi wasn’t looking at him, staring instead at a particular spot to his right. 

He looked tense, almost nervous, and that alone made Satoru’s annoyance at the heat and the insects be pushed to the back of his mind.

His eyes followed Megumi’s stare back to the merry-go-round that he had just walked past. 

A curse stared back at him.

It was big. Long and bulky like an overgrown centipede, wrapped all around the children’s ride, its countless little hands gripping tightly to the colored metal bars. Its skin was lumpy and purple, covered in thousands of little black eyes, half pointed on Satoru and half on Megumi. 

Once the initial surprise passed, Satoru smirked. 

“Well, well, what do we have here?” He drawled, strolling leisurely closer to the curse, which flinched back. 

The evident fear of the creature only made his grin stretch wider and he tipped his sunglasses down, bright blue eyes burning their stare into the creature.

The curse growled at the sight of his eyes, big and wonky mouth opening to snap razor sharp pointy and crooked teeth at him in a futile attempt of intimidation that made the sorcerer laugh.

However, his manic grin softened when he felt a small hand gripping the back of his shirt.

He turned towards Megumi, the boy having quietly moved to hide behind him, head peeking out to keep staring attentively at the curse. He was trying his best to look calm and composed as always, but the tight grip on Satoru’s clothes and the tense slope of his shoulder gave him away. 

He knew that it wasn’t the first time that the boy saw a curse, but he had to admit that this one was particularly big and creepy, plus it was standing much closer than other curses usually dared to in the presence of the great Gojo Satoru.

He decided that this would be a great occasion to show off and gain some admiration points with his difficult child. 

“Megs, it’s time for you to finally see the greatest sorcerer alive at work!” His blatant smugness would usually have the boy scoff and roll his eyes, but this time he simply glanced up at Satoru, expectant. 

The man cracked his knuckles and stepped forward, mulling over how to go on about this. 

He would have liked to show off some of his big and flashier moves, but he knew that he should refrain from that so as to not cause too much destruction in the small park and gather attention of any passersby. He really didn’t feel like summoning a veil right now, so he would just have to be stealthy about this. Plus if he broke the swingset planted nearby he wouldn't hear the end of it from Megumi. The boy loved the swings.

“Come on, let’s make this quick, I can’t wait to go back home to my lovely AC and out of this damn heat.” He huffed, stepping towards the curse and stopping it as it tried to run away with a small summoning of Blue, attracting it towards himself and hitting it with a well placed punch brimming with cursed energy. 

The curse screeched as it flew multiple feet back, crashing into the trunk of a nearby tree. 

That first attack seemed to fully activate its fight or flight mode, and the curse let out another ear grating garble before jumping at Satoru, canines flashing and sharp claws emerging from its multiple hands. 

Satoru didn’t even flinch, posture relaxed as he let Infinity do all the work. The curse stopped mid-air against the invisible barrier and the sorcerer attacked, twirling around to plant a powerful kick to the curse’s middle and sending it crashing onto the floor.

This time the curse didn’t get back up.

Satoru nudged it with his foot, and when it didn’t do anything more than twitch, he sighed.

“Welp, that was disappointing.”

“Satoru?” 

Megumi’s voice was feeble and shaky as it reached his ears, making him frown in confusion while turning back. Shouldn’t the kid be in pure awe right now, praising how cool his guardian was? 

He turned towards the boy and his eyes widened. 

Other two curses had emerged while he was distracted. 

And they were awfully close to Megumi. 

“Megumi, get back!” He shouted, keeping his eyes on the boy while mindlessly activating Red with one hand to quickly finish up the curse below him before moving on to the others. 

Megumi stumbled back, but in his panic he tripped over his own feet, falling down on his butt. Right before the two curses.

The blood in Satoru’s veins froze. 

And just like that, for the first time in his life, he suddenly knew what it was like to be afraid of curses.

For the first time, he was completely terrified .

The bright red technique quickly died on his fingers after turning the curse under him into dust, and before he could think he was clasping his hands together and teleporting, popping right in front of the boy to stand protectively over him.

His heart was threatening to beat out of his ribcage.

He didn’t think. Couldn’t think. Didn’t have time or clarity or mind to. He just saw Megumi in danger, one of the two curses extending an ugly, sharp, dangerous limb towards the boy, and he acted, letting the pure rage mixed with fear itching in his veins guide him.

Images of Megumi painted red, lying still in a pool of his own blood with two curses happily feasting on his tender flesh flashed through his mind, making him shake violently from head to toe.

He didn’t think before raising a hand, pointing two fingers towards the offending curses and murmuring under his breath:

“Hollow Purple.”

He flicked his fingers, letting the destruction erupt.

Power raced through his extended arm as the blow burst forward. He was still lucid enough to contain it as much as he could, so as to not destroy the entire park and nearby buildings, but the blow was still enough to completely demolish the very atoms of the two creatures, disintegrating them to nothing and bringing along in its path of destruction the nearby trees and grass. 

Blood was rushing through his ears, his own heartbeat booming loudly in his own skull, as the electrifying tingle of his own pure and raw power ran pleasantly up and down his spine.

He hadn’t even noticed that he had been floating until his feet hit the ground once again. 

And then a groan.

His head snapped back in the direction of the noise and horror struck once again.

Megumi was sprawled on the dirty floor, many feet behind where he had been last Satoru saw him, curling on himself with a pained frown. 

And Satoru… Satoru couldn’t move.

How could he not have thought about this? By using an attack that powerful, even if directed in the opposite direction, it was obvious that the kid would have been caught up in it when standing so close. He didn’t seem seriously hurt, but the rush of power released by Hollow Purple must have blown him back with the same power of a contained explosion. 

How could Satoru not consider this before releasing his technique? How could he make such a rookie mistake? Wasn’t he supposed to be the strongest? Wasn’t he supposed to be the one to protect Megumi from the dangers of the world? How could he have hurt him now? How could he call himself his guardian, his caretaker, after this ?!

His mind couldn’t help but wander to something that he had been told long ago. 

“Everyone has a weakness. Even you." Suguru had whispered with an amused shake of his head on a quiet winter night as the two huddled under the covers in Satoru’s room, talking about everything and nothing all together, chatting for hours and hours in the deep of the night like the two lovesick teenagers that they had once been. 

Satoru burrowed his head deeper in the warm pillow, incredulous but indulging as he raised an eyebrow. “Really? And pray tell, what would my weakness be?”

Suguru had thought about it for a few seconds, the fingers that had been mindlessly stroking up and down the other boy’s side stilling for a moment before resuming, leaving goosebumps in their path. 

“Your weakness is probably other people.”

Satoru had laughed at that. “So what you’re actually saying is that I don’t have a weakness. Other people are the weak ones.”

Suguru had flicked him on the forehead with a roll of his eyes, still so incredibly fond even in his annoyance. “You know that’s not what I mean. You’re strong, incredibly so, but you know very well that that kind of overwhelming power can be a double edged sword. It affects your precision, it can’t avoid casualties. If you add to that your god-awful teamwork-”

“Hey!”

“- it becomes clear that you may be the strongest when alone but when fighting alongside others you can fall short.”

Satoru had thought about it for a few seconds. He had already known these things about himself, but he hadn’t thought of it as a weakness of his. He had just concluded that other people were liabilities and that he was better off without them. It was a small difference in semantics, but to him, to the teenage Gojo Satoru who couldn’t ever accept admitting that he could have a weakness , that he wasn’t the flawless celestial being he presented himself as, it was fundamental. 

Still, he pushed those crisis-inducing thoughts away in favor of grinning up at Suguru. 

“But that doesn’t apply to you, right?” Suguru blinked down at him, not understanding. Satoru’s grin stretched even wider.

“Because together we’re the strongest. So you can’t be a weakness to me.”

Suguru had smiled back, something so soft and affectionate that it made Satoru’s heart stutter, as if fighting to get out of his ribcage and jump towards the object of his affections.

“Yeah. I guess I’m the exception.”

And the fact was that Suguru had been both right and wrong at the same time. 

Satoru wasn’t good at fighting with other people around, unless that person was Suguru. He was the only one who could keep up with him. They were the strongest together, so with him Satoru never had to worry about holding back or accidentally hurting him. They bounced off of each other like a well-oiled machine, never once faltering, communicating everything that they each needed to know with just a glance and a grin. 

However, Suguru had been wrong in claiming that he was an exception. He may not have ever hindered Satoru in a fight, but he had definitely been a weakness of his, probably his biggest one. The simple fact that the other man was still roaming free, murdering non-sorcerers because the only one strong enough to stop him was refusing to step up to his duties was proof enough.

Still, that conversation had taken place a lifetime ago and he had almost forgotten about it. 

It wasn’t like the issue had ever come up again. 

Once Suguru left there was no one able to keep up to him. Even before Suguru had left he was still sent mostly on solo-mission, because such was the life of the strongest. He can’t even remember the last time someone came with him on a mission, the last time he fought alongside someone else. 

Whenever civilians were on the scene of a curse attacking, the first thing that Gojo did was evacuate them, so he really couldn’t remember what fighting not completely alone was like.

Nevertheless, none of this was enough to justify his carelessness. 

Megumi had gotten hurt and it was all his fault. 

He pushed back his thoughts and focused instead on the boy, rushing by his side, crouching down beside him, hands hovering nervously, unsure of what to do. 

“Megumi! Are you okay?!”

Megumi grunted, slowly getting up, looking a little banged up but not seriously injuried.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He grumbled, wrinkling his nose in a way that in another situation Satoru would have cooed at, while trying to shake himself off of the dirt that had stuck to his sweaty skin and clothes after falling. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Satoru insisted, grabbing the boy by the shoulders and frantically looking him over. 

Megumi frowned at him, but his tone wasn’t annoyed when he spoke again, just a little confused. “Yes. Just a few scratches.”

Satoru’s eyes flickered over the kid’s arms and legs, really seeing nothing more than a few superficial scratches. They weren’t serious, but they probably still hurt, or at the very least stung a bit. Once they got home he would have to disinfect them or they could get infected. Had Megumi also hit his head? He hadn’t said anything about his head hurting, but you never know with head injuries, and what if-

“Satoru.” Megumi’s firm voice snapped him out of his spiral. 

The man blinked in confusion as Megumi placed his tiny hands on each side of his head, making the man focus on his expression, all too serious for that of a nine year old.

“I’m okay.” He stated firmly, reassuringly, and Satoru’s heart swelled with pride and affection. “Those curses didn’t hurt me.”

The man tried not to grimace at that. Of course the boy thought that he was freaking out over the curses instead of over his own failings. He was probably too young to grasp the pit of self hatred and self doubt that Satoru had been about to fall into. 

And so he pushed those feelings down, grinned and ruffled the boy’s hair. “Of course they didn’t. Not when I’m around.”

Megumi rolled his eyes, but it didn’t hold as much annoyance as usual. 

Satoru helped him up, careful of the scratches on his arms, and asked him once more just to be sure: “So you really are okay?”

“Yeah, how many more times do I have to tell you?” The boy huffed with a pout. “I’m not weak, y’know?”

“Of course you aren’t! You’re my kid!” Satoru ruffled his hair once again, and the boy slapped his hand away with a frown.

“I’m not your kid.”

Satoru huffed a simple laugh, dusting his own clothes off of dirt and fixing his glasses. “Let’s go home now before your sister starts worrying.”

“Whatever.”

But despite his permanent scowl, when Satoru tentatively offered him his hand, Megumi was quick to take it, sticking particularly close to him the rest of the way home. 

3.

As the years passed and the kids grew, Satoru’s presence became gradually needed less and less. The two kids had always been independent, but there were some things that two elementary school children just couldn’t do on their own, no matter how smart. 

But now Megumi had just started middle school and Tsumiki had officially entered her teenage years, and Satoru’s presence was mostly superfluous except for when money was needed. 

A part of him was inevitably nostalgic, missing the dear old times where the kids would look up at him in awe (well, just Tsumiki) with their big doe eyes waiting for him to guide them and explain the world to them. 

Nonetheless, he knew that this was just a part of growing up, he had always known that it would happen and had even looked forward to the day the kids would finally be mostly self-sufficient. It did make his life easier.

Balancing his duties as sorcerer and as caretaker had always been hard, and now that he had recently taken on the role of teacher at Tokyo Jujutsu High, it would have been simply impossible to keep up with everything if the kids hadn’t been so independent. 

He could no longer spend most of his time outside of missions at the Fushiguro children’s apartment, having been required by the school to stay on campus mornings and afternoons, and sometimes even evenings. And so his fancy dorm room at Jujutsu High finally began to be used more and more, while his visits to the children became more spaced out from one to the other. He still made sure to drop by at least twice a week, but he couldn’t do more than that as he had done in the previous years.

The kids didn’t seem to mind. Tsumiki always kindly reassured him that it was fine and that they could handle themselves just fine whenever he apologized about not being around as often as he had once been. Megumi looked annoyed every time he was around, so he probably enjoyed the time without Satoru. 

It was fine. Really, he didn’t mind. He wasn’t some mother-hen all sad and anxious because her kids were starting to grow up and leave the nest, or whatever. This had always been his role, to just financially support the children with enough to come by and visit every now and then to check on them and train Megumi in jujutsu. That was the deal. Everything else that Satoru had done when they were smaller was just extra stuff that he had felt like doing at the time. He wasn’t their parent, or older brother, or whatever else. Just their guardian.

So really, he was fine with Tsumiki and Megumi growing up and not relying on him as much anymore. 

Still, the few times where they did rely on him, he couldn’t deny the warm feeling that always swelled up in his chest.

It was a cool late spring afternoon when Satoru dropped by the Fushiguro house.

The last few weeks had been very busy with the new first years coming in. The first month of new students coming in was mostly spent by him assessing them and their capabilities other than filling in those who had come from non-sorcerers families on the whole jujutsu world, which meant spending a lot of time looking after the new students. 

Because of that Satoru hadn’t been able to spend much time with the two kids that he didn’t teach, and so that day right after classes ended he decided to pick up takeout for dinner and spend the afternoon and evening with the Fushiguro siblings. 

He burst through the door announced, as always, and made his presence known by being as loud as possible, clapping his hands and announcing out loud:

“Guess who’s here! Your favorite legal guardian slash cool adult role model who also happens to be a badass sorcerer!” 

No answer came.

“And I brought food!”

Still no answer. Weird, he was sure that that would have gotten the kids’ attention. 

Just as he began to suspect that no one was home, a clatter resounded from the bathroom. It wasn’t loud by any means but his enhanced senses had no problem catching it even through the closed door. 

Tsumiki was too polite to not greet him even if she was in the bathroom, so that was clearly Megumi.

He grinned, dropping the bag of takeout  on the kitchen counter before waltzing over to the bathroom door, knocking loudly on it and slurring in a sing-song voice: “Oh, Megumi!”

He heard an annoyed sigh but nothing more, which made his grin turn even wider as he kept annoyingly knocking on the door.

“Aw, don’t be rude, Megs! Come say hello to me! I came all this way to see you!”

Another sigh and then an annoyed grumble. “Give me a second.”

Satoru smiled, turning around to look in the direction of the two bedrooms at the end of the hallway, which both looked empty. 

“Where’s your sister?” He asked loudly to be heard by the boy over whatever he was doing. 

“At a friend’s house.”

“That’s too bad. Did she tell you if she will be home by dinner?”

“Why should I know.” Was the flat answer and Satoru rolled his eyes. The boy had apparently gotten into his rebellious stage earlier than expected. Although, to be honest, when has Megumi ever not been in his rebellious phase? Could it even be considered a phase anymore?

“Uh, ‘cause you’re a good brother who worries about his dear sister?”

“Whatever. You have her number, ask her.”

Satoru mocked the boy with a whiny voice, just to annoy, but then did as told anyway. He leaned on the wall next to the door of the bathroom and pulled out his phone from his pocket, texting Tsumiki. 

He was still waiting for an answer when the door to the bathroom swung open. 

He didn’t look right away, waiting for a few more seconds to see if the girl would answer right away to no avail before sighing and putting the phone back in his pocket. 

He glanced up just as Megumi was passing by him, directed at an unusually quick pace to the living room, and Satoru could already sense that something was off, so he strided after the boy, blacked out glasses slipping down the tip of his nose as he tried to get a better look to the fleeing boy. 

“Megumi, what are you hiding?” He decided to get to it right away, knowing that with the right teasing and prodding it wouldn’t be long before the kid would give in and spill the beans.

Megumi froze in his hasty walk, tension thick in his shoulders as Satoru stopped a few paces behind him. The boy shuffled a little in place, before slowly, hesitantly, turning around.

Satoru raised an eyebrow, scanning him over. He looked normal, what was he- Oh.

It was hard to miss, which is probably why the boy had tried to avoid him as much as possible, but Satoru had skipped right over it at first. He had expected something else, perhaps a sick stray animal hidden under the boy’s shirt (a scene that they had lived through quite a few times over the years).

Instead the only unusual thing about Megumi at the moment was the slim but visible and still lightly bleeding cut on the side of his jaw. 

Satoru frowned. It didn’t look particularly painful, just a superficial nick. The boy wasn’t even grimacing or scowling, but it was a weird place for someone to get hurt. 

“What happened?” He took a step closer to the boy, instinctually reaching out a hand to his face, but Megumi huffed and slapped it away.

“None of your business.”

Satoru pouted, trying to seem annoyed instead of worried. He knew that the kid would take offense to him being worried, taking it as a sign that Satoru didn’t think he could handle himself.

“You’re so mean, Gumi! I’m still your guardian, I have a right to know everything about you, y’know? Especially when you get hurt.”

“I’m not hurt, it’s nothing.” Megumi scoffed, but there was something more. 

There was something else under his usual grumpiness and rebellion. Something incredibly akin to… embarrassment? 

The slight pink tint to his cheeks proved Satoru’s theory. 

Now he was even more curious. 

“Come ooooon!” He whined in the way that he knew the boy found infuriating. “Come on, come on, come on! Just tell me, Gumi!  Tell me, tell me, tell me-”

“Okay, fine!” The boy finally snapped, and Satoru had to bite down his winning grin. 

A few seconds of silence followed as Megumi started looking more and more uncomfortable, looking anywhere but at Gojo, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. 

He finally spoke up, scratching nervously at his neck as his ears turned red. 

“I cut myself while trying to shave.” His voice was so low and mumbled that, had Satoru been anyone else, he probably wouldn’t have understood a thing. But, of course, Satoru understood just fine, which is why his eyes grew wide as saucers and his jaw fell to the floor.

“What?” He choked out, fighting tooth and nail to keep down the booming laugh that was threatening to burst out of his chest. 

“I know you heard me!” Megumi snapped back, but his withering glare was rendered much less effective when his cute little face was completely flushed with embarrassment. 

Satoru counted to ten in his head to try and calm himself down. If he laughed now the boy would probably just lock himself in his room and refuse to come out again. He bit his lip and tried to make his voice as still as possible when he asked:

“And, uhm, why exactly were you trying to shave your face?”

Megumi glared at him as if he was dumb. “Because I’m starting to grow a beard, obviously.”

And at that, Satoru couldn’t help it. He lost his hard fought battle and cackled.

Megumi’s face turned even redder and he glared harder, barking at Satoru to stop  and to just shut up , even weakly punching him in the arm to get his point across. Satoru just laughed even harder.

Megumi then, as expected, stormed into his room, loudly slamming the door and locking it.

It took Satoru a full minute to calm down, but eventually he did, wiping a few tears from his eyes as he shook his head in amusement. It had been a long time since he last laughed so hard, he will have to thank Megumi for that. After helping him fix his clearly hurt pride.

He shook off the last of his amusement, walking to the boy’s room and knocking loudly.

“Go away if you’re just gonna make fun of me.” The boy’s clearly grumpy and upset voice rang out from inside the room.

“I’m sorry for laughing, Megs. I promise I won’t laugh again. So, let me in? Pretty please with a cherry on top?”

A few seconds of pure silence followed but then there was a sigh and approaching footsteps, until the lock clicked once and Satoru was able to open the door and enter. 

Megumi had quickly sat back on his bed, back against the headboard and gaming console in hand, a deep scowl on his face.

Satoru hummed lightheartedly, waltzing up to the bed and plopping down ungracefully on it, making the small boy bounce on the mattress.

“So,” The man started, casually looking up at the ceiling, “you tried to shave for the first time, mh?”

Megumi just huffed in response. 

“Don’t you think it’s a little early for that?”

“I told you, I’m starting to grow facial hair.” Megumi said through gritted teeth, and Satoru closed his eyes to keep himself from giggling. This time it thankfully worked.

“Really?” He simply asked, voice slightly shaky, but it was the best he could do.

“Yes, really. Look!” Megumi huffed, dropping his gaming console to point angrily at his upper lip. “There’s a bit of fuzz right here! I’m probably about to grow an awesome mustache!”

Satoru really did look, even taking off his sunglasses just to make sure. But even with the power of the Six Eyes, he truly had no idea what Megumi was talking about.

“Are you sure you’re not just getting confused with your nose’s shadow?” 

The boy glared, falling back against the headboard and stubbornly folding his arms to his chest. 

“I hate you.”

And really, what was it with boys and facial hair? Satoru had never understood the appeal, even when he was a teen and he saw his peers proudly showcasing their lame ass splotchy beards and lousy mustaches. He didn’t mind a bit of a five o’clock shadow, but he had always preferred nice and smooth faces, free of scratchy annoying hair, thank you very much. 

Still, he knew that some young boys saw it as a sign of maturity or some shit like that, so it made sense that Megumi, who had always tried to act as a grown up and was going through that weird period at the end of elementary school and start of middle school where kids feel like they’re tough shit and all grown up, would get fascinated by something as dumb as facial hair. 

And so he tried to think of that and not about how ridiculous it sounded coming from the still immaculate baby-faced boy

After all, Megumi had always been very mature for his age. So there was nothing wrong with indulging him a little and making him feel like an actual grown up for a while.

“Well, this just won’t do.” Satoru sighed dramatically, shaking his head.

Megumi glared at him again. “Why do you care so much about what I do? I don’t need your approval, you’re not my dad-”

“I mean, if you really want to shave, we can’t have you cutting yourself every time, right? That’s gonna become a pain.” Satoru cut him off, relishing in the surprised blink that the kid gave him as he tried to process his words.

“If you wanna avoid cuts and rashes and stuff while shaving, you gotta do it right. Did you look up how to do it or did you just wing it?”

Megumi averted his eyes, clearly embarrassed, which was answer enough.

Satoru laughed, but this time it was a gentler, fond laugh instead of a mocking one. 

“You really are something, huh? You act so wise and old but you really can be as careless as me sometimes, kid.” 

Megumi looked like he wanted to argue, since to him there was probably nothing in the world worse than being compared to Satoru, but the man didn’t give him the time, patting him once on his shoulder and getting up, stretching his long arms over his head.

“Come on, I’ll teach you.”

The boy hesitated, shocked at the sudden and weird turn of events. But after a few seconds he was also climbing off the bed and trailing after Satoru like an overgrown duckling, making the man hide his amused smile in the collar of his jacket. 

And so that was how they found themselves standing side by side in the bathroom, both facing the mirror and holding a razor in their hands. 

Thankfully, even though he seldom spent the night there anymore, his shaving kit was still tucked away safely at the back of a cabinet, so he didn’t have to make the trip to the convenience store to get what they needed. 

“Okay, so, first thing’s first,” Satoru began, using the same voice that he used in the classroom, reveling in how Megumi’s full attention was directed on him, “Moisturizing.” 

Satoru grabbed from his designated cabinet his face cleanser and moisturizer, handing them both to the boy, who looked down at them as if they were something alien. 

“Moisturizing is arguably the most important step in any beauty-routine-”

“This isn’t a beauty routine.” Megumi was quick to complain, ears pink, and Satoru rolled his eyes. 

“Okay, fine, self-care routine. Moisturizing is the Holy Grail of any self-care routine. Better?”

“Mh.”

“Anyways,” Satoru clapped his hands excitedly, gesturing at the cleanser that the boy had been mindlessly tossing from one hand to the other as if it didn’t cost a hundred dollars, “first we wash our face to get rid of any dirt or dead skin.”

“Ew. I don’t have dead skin.”

“Yes you do. You’re so boring I’m surprised that all of your skin didn’t kill itself.” 

“Shut up. At least I’m not annoying like you.” Megumi grumbled, but then begrudgingly listened to Satoru’s instructions, pouring a small handful of cleanser on his hand and lathering it on his face. 

The man did the same, and when he looked back up at the mirror he chuckled at the ridiculous sight of both him and Megumi standing side by side with their whole faces lathered in bubbly foam, especially when he noticed how focused the boy was, meticulously scrubbing at every inch of his face with intent, probably still grossed out at the idea of dead skin.

They rinsed their face at the same time thanks to the double sink in the bathroom, and then Satoru passed the boy a clean towel for his face, reprimanding him when he started once again scrubbing aggressively at his skin with the cloth, telling him that he needed to be gentle or all of his skin would peel off by the time he was thirty and he would have to walk around with his skull exposed. He stored away in his mind the horrified look on Megumi’s face to remember on bad days and have a laugh.

“Great, now we hydrate. Usually it is ideal to shave right after a shower, so your hair is all soft and clean, making the razor glide easier. But this works too.”  Satoru explained while gently rubbing the moisturizer into his own skin.

Megumi nodded and grabbed the tube of cream. He squeezed as if it was an almost finished tube of toothpaste, making a way too big gunk of moisturizer gush out into his hand. He shrugged and started lathering the preposterous amount of cream into his face. Satoru simply sighed. There goes his two hundred dollars face cream.

Once Megumi’s face was all shiny and slippery with moisturizer Satoru wiped off the excess with the towel. The boy adorably scrunched up his nose, but surprisingly he didn’t complain more than that. 

“Great, now we move on to the most important step: shaving cream.” He announced, grabbing the said product. “You see, my dear pupil, it doesn’t exist just for aesthetic purposes or because it is fun to play with. It’s what makes the glide of the razor nice and smooth and prevents cuts or irritation.”

Megumi looked a bit sheepish at that, and Satoru really had to wonder how such a smart kid had apparently just decided to basically raw-dog it and put a sharp razor to his face with no precautions or anything. Pre-teen really were something else. 

And so they both started spreading shaving cream on the lower half of their faces, and Satoru tried not to think about how incredibly domestic the whole thing was. Yes, teaching the kid how to shave was typically a father-son moment, but Megumi hadn’t had much luck in that department, so Satoru was the only one who could step up to the task. He knew that the kid didn’t see him as a parental figure or anything like that, he didn’t have to remind himself of it, but it was easy to shrug that detail off when sharing these kinds of moments with the boy.

“You missed a spot.” He said instead of letting his mind wander any further, and the boy furrowed his brows, squinting at himself in the mirror.

“Huh? Where?”

“Riiight-” Satoru put a bit of shaving cream on his finger before smearing it on the boy’s nose “- here .”

Megumi squawked in indignation, swatting away the offending hand, and the man burst out laughing. 

The boy glared and decided to have his revenge, spraying a handful of shaving cream all over his hand and reaching up to the man’s face.

Too bad that Satoru was still too tall for the kid to reach, so he simply straightened up and stepped back, avoiding a face full of shaving cream. 

“Don’t run away, you coward.” Megumi complained, grabbing at the man’s shirt to hold him still and trying desperately on his tiptoes to reach his face.

Satoru simply grinned and put his hand, still smeared with shaving cream, on the boy’s forehead, pushing him back. Megumi growled like an angry chihuahua, pushing against the offending hand and wildly thrashing his skinny arms around, trying to hit the man but failing miserably. 

Satoru kept laughing at the adorably amusing scene, but at last he took pity on the angry boy, letting him finally get close enough to grab a hold of his shirt once again. Unaware of the man’s act of pity, Megumi grinned triumphantly, yanking Satoru down by the shirt to be eye-level with him and slapping the handful of shaving cream he was still holding onto in his face. 

Satoru was thankful that he hadn’t put his glasses back on after washing his face. 

“Take that!” Megumi exclaimed proudly, and Satoru pretended to be annoyed, wiping away the shaving cream from his eyes with a pout. 

“Meany! It could have gotten in my beautiful eyes!” He whined as they both wiped away the excess cream, and Megumi gave him a skeptical look.

“You could have just put Infinity up.”

Satoru didn’t answer that, knowing that the kid was right. Megumi had always been too perceptive to be deceived. Thankfully he didn’t look upset, so he hadn’t taken offense to Satoru purposefully letting him win like he had feared he would. 

The kid almost looked like he was having fun, the hint of a smile on his lips and eyes for once not narrowed in a glare. That didn’t happen very often when he was around Satoru, not lately.

The rest of Satoru’s little impromptu lesson went by smoothly, in a comfortable and relaxed silence, broken every now and then by the man making a small quip or giving instructions. 

They got to the actual shaving, Satoru reminding the boy to keep his hand light and gentle and showing him in which direction to go. 

It was silly. It was completely ridiculous to see Megumi shaving with Satoru’s extra razor, still so tiny and baby-faced. But it was also one of the best afternoons that they had spent together in the past year. 

That evening when Tsumiki finally came home just in time for dinner she found the two on the couch, fresh and smooth faced, Megumi’s tiny cut from his first attempt at shaving properly treated and hidden behind an animal-patterned band-aid (Megumi had grumbled and complained about it for at least ten minutes, but Satoru had shrugged and said that they only had those ones, stealthily stuffing the still unopened box of completely normal and plain band-aids to the back of the bathroom cabinet), while watching the new Pokemon movie. 

She had smiled at the sight, heart swelling up with fondness and affection for her family, before rushing to join them, leaning against Satoru’s side opposite from Megumi and telling him excitedly all about her day spent with her friends. 

Satoru was happy.

The kids may have grown up and become more and more independent. His life may have gotten more chaotic and stressful. The gaping hole in his soul that had haunted him ever since high school may not have closed up yet despite the many years that had passed. But, despite all of this, life was good. 

As long as he could keep having moments like this, life was good. 

4.

Satoru’s experiences with the Fushiguro children had led him to believe that raising kids wasn’t as stressful and infuriating as some people made it sound. It wasn’t easy by any means, especially when they were younger, but once they didn’t need someone else to feed them, take them to places and clean up after them it seemed almost effortless. 

Now Megumi and Tsumiki were respectively thirteen and fourteen, officially teenagers, and Satoru had assumed that from that moment on looking after them would have been like driving on autopilot: he was still there to check up every now and then so as to make sure that they weren’t going to crash on any wall, but he mostly just leaned back and enjoyed the ride. 

He had never even considered that dealing with them now that they were teenagers would have been an uphill battle like some parents made it sound. 

He had been wrong. He had definitely been wrong.

Tsumiki wasn’t really a problem. No, Tsumiki was still an angel like she had always been.

Yes, it was a little annoying how she started going out with her friends more and more and always took so long to reply to his messages, making him feel like an overbearing mother every time he spent full afternoons continuously glancing at his phone waiting for a sign of life from the girl and monitoring her position at every chance he got. And, though money had never been a problem and he had always been more than happy to let the kids squander his bottomless savings as much as they wanted, he had found himself gawking more than once at his credit card’s receipts, wondering just how many clothes and skin care products one single girl could need. 

She also started looking at boys and developing crushes, which was a whole new level of stressful for Satoru, for a reason that he couldn’t quite explain rationally. He did his best to keep his anxiousness about the whole thing down, trying to uphold his title of cool parental figure slash fun uncle. But it was really hard to keep his cool when she would forget to text him all day and then tell him that she had been hanging out with a boy . When he calmly tried to explain to her that all boys are monsters and that she shouldn’t trust any of them she just laughed as if he was joking, so there wasn’t much else he could do except keeping a close eye on her and on anyone who dared get close. 

Nonetheless, all of that was probably just completely normal and not at all alarming teenage stuff. God knows that he had been so much worse at her age.

No, the one that made him want to tear his own hair out was Megumii.

If the boy had been a little pest as a child, then as a teenager he had straight up taken upon the mantle of bane of Satoru’s existence .

He loved the kid to death, but if he had to bribe the middle school’s principal one more time to keep his ill-conduct off the records he was going to scream. 

It hadn’t even been two full years since Megumi had started attending that school and between one bribe and the other Satoru had basically paid for the new school’s gym out of his own pockets. 

So he wasn’t even surprised when, in the middle of supervising his second year class sparring, he got a call from Megumi and Tsumiki’s school. 

He sighed and stepped away for privacy, wondering if this time it was about Megumi skipping school, or talking back to a teacher or, God forbid, another fight. 

Of course , it was another fight. 

He excused himself by pretending that there was a big special grade mission, perks of being the strongest sorcerer, gave the students a few tips and things to work on, and set off. 

Was it irresponsible to leave a class that he was supposed to be teaching unsupervised? Yes. Has he done much more irresponsible things in his short teaching career? Also yes. Did he care? No.

Besides, the kids would be fine. If it was fine to send them on life-threatening missions against ugly blood-hungry monsters by themselves whenever the higher-ups said so, it would be fine to leave them alone on school grounds for a few hours.

When he got to the principal’s office, he was met with the familiar scene of Megumi sitting there on a chair that basically had his name written on it by that point, arms folded to his chest and head hung low, not even looking up when Satoru strided in and put on his most charming smile to greet the principal.

“Thank you for coming on such short notice, Gojo-san.” The middle aged woman running the school said, fixing her glasses as she sat back in her chair, Satoru taking the seat beside Megumi and tucking his sunglasses in his shirt, both for respect and because he knew very well the effect that his eyes had on people.

“No problem, Anything for my kid.” He smiled, raising one hand to ruffle Megumi’s hair a little too aggressively, a quiet warning to behave. The boy squirmed away from his touch but didn’t yet raise his head or spare him a glance. 

“As I’m sure you’ve already been told over the phone, Fushiguro here got into another fight.”

“Yeah, so I heard.” He nodded somberly, trying his best to play his part as a disappointed and worried parent. If he hadn’t been a sorcerer he would have made an amazing actor. He already had the looks for it.

“This time was even worse than the others. He picked a fight with five third-years and sent all of them to the infirmary, where they’re all being treated right now.”

Satoru did his best to bite down an impressed whistle and keep his disappointed face instead. He would have to wait until later to fist bump Megumi for winning five on one against older kids.

“We’re talking about serious injuries this time, no longer just a few bruises or bleeding noses. These are grounds for an expulsion, a lengthy suspension at best. The parents of the injured students are talking about pressing charges. It is time for you to take Fushiguro’s misconducts more seriously, Gojo-san.”

Satoru’s amusement died down at that. The principal looked dead serious. He started to doubt that he would be able to get them out of this issue unscathed as he always did. 

“I deeply apologize on Megumi’s behalf.” He stated as politely as he could, trying once again for a charming smile, though this one was thinner than usual. “The boy has some clear behavioral issues, we’re doing the best we can to work on them-”

“Yes, you have said that before.” The principal cut him off. “And while you do have my understanding, you also have to be understanding of the gravity of the situation. Either the boy fixes his issues before another incident like this happens again or he will no longer be welcome in this school. And in that case we will have to put this incident and all the ones before this one on his student record. I have been all too kind until now, it is time to set some ground rules since you, as his guardian, don’t seem to be doing a good job at that.”

Satoru, for once, found himself speechless. He had no rebuttal, no witty comment or bribe to charm the woman and get out of this uncomfortable situation. 

He knew that in less than two years none of this would matter. Megumi would just go to jujutsu high and become a sorcerer. Things like his student record wouldn’t matter anymore. 

But it wasn’t time yet for that. 

Megumi still had time. Time to be an almost-normal kid. Time to go to public school, and study, and meet lots of different people, and live his life without the constant weight of other people’s lives on his shoulders. Time to be a child, time to be innocent, without vivid images of blood and corpses and curses haunting his sleep. Time before loss and grief became an integral part of his life. Time before he would have to live through each day with the disarming and unsettling awareness that it could very well be his last, that his young life could be cut short at the first mistake.

Satoru didn’t want him to lose all that yet. He couldn’t let the kid lose that yet, even if Megumi himself didn’t seem to care about it. 

And so he pushed down his pride, his ego, and everything else in his twisted, selfish heart that pushed him to just tell the principal to go to Hell and be damned the consequences that it would have on Megumi. 

He ignored every self-taught behavior that he had acquired in his life and did something that was so out of character of him that if anyone who knew him had seen it they probably would think that he was possessed by a curse.

He got up from his chair and bowed.

A full ninety-degree bow.

He kept his gaze trained downwards, but thanks to his Six Eyes he could still sense Megumi’s gaze immediately snapping up to him, his cursed energy spiking up with shock. 

“You are right.” He admitted softly, hoping that his unusual seriousness would be enough to portray his sincerity. “I have been slacking as this boy’s guardian. I have taken his behavior too lightly, which is why I’m the one to blame for it. I’m incredibly grateful for all the second chances you’ve already given us, and I know that I have no right to ask this of you and of the school, but I beg you to give us one more chance. Megumi is a smart kid who’s still struggling to find his way in this world. This doesn’t excuse his behavior, of course, but if you could find it in yourself to give him another chance I can assure you he will surprise you. Don’t let his potential go to waste. I will do whatever I can in my power to help set him on the right path.”

A few moments of stunned silence followed his little speech. 

He had always been good with words, crafting stories out of nothing to get away with everything. It’s something that had been useful when he was still living with his clan, turning and molding the truth around to shape it in a way that he knew they would appreciate, framing himself in such a way that they would have to approve even when he went against their teachings and wishes. Most people wouldn’t believe it given his usual behavior, but when he put himself to it he was great at diplomacy. Most of the time he just didn’t care enough to even try. 

But this was different. 

Yes, he had picked out the prettiest words, tied them together in a neat bow to present like a gift, searching to please. But they weren’t just that, they weren’t just sparkly words made to bewitch. There was truth to them, there was actual sincerity in his voice. 

Because perhaps he really had been slacking. It had been easy to claim that Megumi was mostly independent by now and that his difficult behavior was simply something out of Satoru’s jurisdiction. It had been easy to waltz into the school, all pretty smiles and prettier words and bribe every teacher and janitor to turn a blind eye, get Megumi out of trouble, give him a slap on the wrist at most and then call it a job well done. 

Perhaps looking after a kid really meant more than just providing for them, playing around a bit and putting band-aids on wounds. 

The principal awkwardly cleared her throat, clearly taken off guard by the uncharacteristic show of regret and pleading. 

“I will allow it just this once. Megumi will still be suspended for a week, but I won’t expel him. You can deal with the other upset families yourself. I really hope we won’t need to have such a conversation again, Gojo-san.”

Satoru finally straightened up from his bow, sending a grateful smile to the woman and enthusiastically shaking her hand.

“Thank you so much, we won’t disappoint. Isn’t that right, Megumi?”

The boy grumbled an affirmative answer under his breath and with that they were out of the small stifling office, walking towards the car that Satoru may or may not have borrowed from Jujutsu High.

Satoru glanced at the boy, and couldn’t help but grimace now that he finally was able to get a look at his face.

“Yikes. Did they even let the nurse see you?” He asked, eyes taking in the rattled appearance of the kid. One of his eyes was dark and swollen, a dark bruise bloomed on his left cheekbone along with a narrow cut, and his lip was split and still slightly bleeding. 

“I refused to go.” The boy grumbled under his breath and refused to answer all the following questions. 

The ride to the apartment was quiet and tense.

Satoru didn’t know if he was thankful or not that Tsumiki was still at school and didn’t seem to be aware of what had happened. On one hand the girl would have probably been much better than him at talking to Megumi about his behavior, and given that the boy actually respected her he was more likely to listen to her than to Satoru. On the other hand, he knew that she would have panicked and worried out of her mind, insisting on leaving school with the two to be with her baby brother, and he didn’t want her to feel responsible over a kid barely younger than her, so it was probably better this way. 

He had to finally step up and deal with this himself, after all. 

As soon as they got to the apartment Megumi rushed in the direction of his room, but Satoru simply teleported in front of him and blocked his way, tutting loudly and shaking his head.

“Oh no you don’t, mister. You’re not gonna just lock yourself in your room and pretend that nothing happened.”

Megumi scowled. “And why not? Aren’t you usually the expert at pretending that everything is fine when it’s not?”

Satoru’s retort died on his tongue. What did the kid mean with that? Why was he always so damn perceptive, and how could he know each and every time where his soft spots were to hit them with his sharp words?

“Move.” Megumi huffed, crossing his arms expectantly, scowl deepening. However, he couldn’t quite hide the wince that showed on his face when the word pulled at his split lip, making a few drops of blood drip down his chin.

“We should treat those wounds, huh?” Satoru asked, trying for a smile which didn’t feel as bright as it should.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re hurt. Just- let me help you, okay?” Satoru offered more gently, a little desperately. “That’s what I am here for, after all. I just want to help you.”

Megumi didn’t answer right away, eyes looking everywhere but at the man.

And then he finally sighed, some of the previous tension in his shoulders deflating with it. 

“Fine.”

And so they ended up sitting one in front of the other in the kitchen, first-aid kit spread out on the table beside them as Satoru inspected Megumi’s beat up face. 

“Do you have any other wounds I should know about?” He asked once he was done with his initial inspection, leaning back to look through the kit for the stuff he needed.

“A few bruises here and there, but that’s it. Once they saw that they were losing they started all going for my face to try and win. Obviously didn’t work.” The kid gruffly explained, making Satoru chuckle.

“Obviously. What about the other guys?”

“Three broken noses. Two broken arms. I think a few cracked ribs. Lots of bruises.”

“Damn.” Satoru whistled while grabbing the small bottle of rubbing alcohol and a few cotton pads. “No use of jujutsu, I hope.”

Megumi scoffed. “Of course not.”

“At least that’s good. Guess my training’s really good, I raised a tiny monster.”

“Those guys were just weak. Dumb douchebags going around thinking that they’re tough shit just because they’re big and can throw a few mediocre punches.” The boy seethed and Satoru hummed, gently dabbing a small cut on the boy’s cheekbone with the wet cotton, disinfecting the wound. 

“Were they also bullies? Like those last guys you beat up?”

“Yeah.” Megumi simply answered, clenching his teeth and trying hard not to flinch at the sting. Always trying to act so stoic and strong, always masking some weakness. Satoru would reprimand him for it, but he didn’t have much room to talk in that regard.

“You know, there are other ways to deal with bullies.” 

“They weren’t bullying me . They were picking on other kids. Kids who don’t have the guts to stand up to them.”

“Yeah, that doesn’t change my previous statement. I know that no one enjoys being a snitch, but you could always just talk to the teachers. Or to me, I could intimidate the hell out of those little punks, see if they dare act all tough again.”

“You know you can’t do that. And the teachers can’t do shit either. This is the only way to make them learn their lesson.” Megumi argued with a roll of his eyes, and Satoru huffed.

“Listen kid, I know how fun it is to play hero or whatever, but is it really worth jeopardizing your future?”

Megumi scoffed, swatting away the hand that reached out to treat the cut on his lip.

“What future? Either case, my future’s already decided. It doesn’t matter what I do now. Also, I’m not trying to play hero either. I’m just living by my own rules. I don’t like those guys, so I pick fights with them. No big noble moral code behind it.”

Satoru sighed, not really knowing what to respond to that. He was good with crafting stories and speeches and excuses, but in situations like these words suddenly failed him. As usual, his abilities failed him whenever he needed them the most. 

And so he just silently, pleadingly, reached out again to the boy’s busted lip, needing to reassure himself that at least in some way he was helping. 

Megumi let him.

And so, after a while of him just silently treating the boy’s wounds, Satoru found his words again. 

“I’m not gonna sit here and give you a bunch of bullshit on how ‘ violence is never the answer ’ and stuff. We both know better than that. It might ring true to some other people, but it doesn’t work for us , not with the world that we were both born into.”

Megumi’s previously unfocused eyes settled on his face at that, almost curious in their staring. 

“And I wish I could tell you that you’re wrong, that your future is still up to you, but we also both know that would be a lie. Your future is set just like the ones of every person born into one of the three clans. But that doesn’t mean that your actions now don’t matter. If anything it makes them matter even more .”

Satoru smiles, tries to make it encouraging but it feels a little too stiff. “These are the last few years in which your life will be completely in your hands. You’re still free of duties and burdens. Don’t you think it would be a waste to let a few jerks ruin it for you?”

Megumi, who had looked as if he was seriously considering Satoru’s words, scowled at that.

“I’m not gonna let those assholes do whatever they want just because I’m scared of getting punished by the school. I don’t care about that. I told you: I’m gonna live by my own rules.”

Satoru huffed, starting to get frustrated. “Well, life doesn’t work like that, Megumi. You can’t just do whatever you want just because you feel like it’s the right thing to do.”

“That’s rich coming from you, the guy who respects no one and does whatever he wants just because no one can stop him.” The boy seethed, face twisted into a judgmental frown. 

“I wish, Megumi!” Satoru bit back, throwing his hands in the air in exasperation. “I really wish it were like that, trust me! But guess what? Even I can’t do whatever I want, even I have to follow rules sometimes, even if I don’t like them! And if I can follow the higher ups’ shitty orders, you can bring yourself to not beat up whoever pisses you off at school!”

Megumi looked taken aback by his outburst. It wasn’t often that Satoru raised his voice in general, and it seemed straight-up unthinkable for him to raise his voice at Megumi. He teased, and shouted in excitement, and cackled way too loudly, but he didn’t raise his voice like that. Not at his kids. 

Satoru’s chest panged with guilt as he realized this. He took a deep breath, dropping the cotton ball still squeezed in his hand as he took some time to pull himself back together, all under Megumi’s watchful eyes.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have raised my voice like that.” The man murmured, taking off his glasses to rub tiredly at his pulsing temples. 

“‘s fine.” The boy shrugged, also looking as if all fight and bite had washed out of him.

“It’s just-” Satoru sighed, still not opening his tired eyes, voice thin and weak, “Megumi, this way of thinking isn’t gonna work. You can’t just live by your own ideals and ignore everything else. You can’t just burn your life away over them, you need to be realistic . And it doesn’t matter if you think you’re doing the right thing, some things are just wrong. The end doesn’t justify the means. You have to be smart about this stuff, alright? This way of thinking, it doesn’t end well. It’s only going to hurt you in the long run. Trust me, I’ve seen it.”

Satoru thought back to the words “ meaning ” and “ purpose ” being uttered reverently, as if dripping with gold, as if they held the truth of existence itself. He thought back to a mission report that he had read over and over again until he was able to recite it by heart, trying to understand how things could end up so wrong , hoping each time that the words would change, that his eyes were just tricking him, only to be faced again and again by the dry reality. He thought back to a small village burned to the ground for the sake of two little girls. He thought back to an innocent and loving couple with whom he had spent the winter break in his first year of high school murdered by their own blood for the sake of an ideal. He thought back to a man who had thrown away his whole life, everything and everyone that he knew just for his self-imposed rigid moral code. A man who had lost sight of everything after burning out his retinas desperately trying to keep dividing the world into black and white despite only seeing gray. 

This wasn’t the same. This wasn’t nearly the same situation. He knew that. He was aware of that. Yet that rational knowledge wasn’t enough to shake off the gripping fear in his chest. 

Something in his voice or in his face must have given away some of his internal turmoil. Something in his eyes must have given away the suffering and pain and regret deeply rooted in those memories, for Megumi seemed to take his words to heart, nodding slowly, a little stunned.

A few moments of silence followed, neither looking at the other. 

Then Megumi spoke up, voice just barely above a whisper. “You really care about me not being expelled, huh?”

Satoru snorted, rubbing at his tired eyes once more before looking back up at the boy’s still battered and swollen face. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Why?”

Satoru thought about lying, about deflecting with a snarky joke. But Megumi’s eyes were so open in that moment, so sincerely curious, making him look once again like the doe-eyed little kid that he had known all those years ago, and suddenly he found himself wanting to reciprocate with his own vulnerable honesty.

“Guess I just want you to experience somewhat of a normal childhood before getting completely swept up in the pure hell of insanity that is the jujutsu world.” His lips quirked into a small grin, and just because he wouldn’t be himself if he didn’t throw at least one joke he added: “And because I’m way too lazy to look into other schools and fill out all the boring paperwork.”

Megumi rolled his eyes, but it didn’t hold any bite. He leaned back on his chair, gaze set to the side as he looked to be deep in thought. 

Satoru took that as his cue to resume his job, grabbing from the first-aid kid an ointment for bruises and tilting the boy’s face to the side to carefully apply it on his purple-tinted cheekbone. 

Megumi let him work in complete silence and in the matter of a few minutes he was done, snapping the kit shut with a click and telling the boy to stay put before walking over to the fridge and grabbing a bag of frozen peas from the freezer. He wrapped it in a thin cloth and tossed it at Megumi, who looked questioningly down at it.

“For your eye.” Satoru gestured at the boy to put it on his black eye. “Ice it for about fifteen minutes every hour for today. From tomorrow on you should move on to warm compresses instead.”

Megumi nodded and did as told. He flinched a little at the first impact, but then seemed to relax, finding relief in the cold bag against his swollen eye.

Satoru was about to head to the bathroom to put the first aid kit back where it belonged, but Megumi’s voice stopped him in his tracks.

“Gojo.”

The boy had stopped calling him Satoru and switched to Gojo instead ever since he started middle school. It was weird to hear his last name come from the lips of the boy he had raised, but there wasn’t anything he could do about it. Megumi would eventually get over this too-cool-for-you phase. At least, he hoped so.

“Yes?” He turned back to the kid, one eyebrow raised expectantly. Megumi averted his eyes but kept speaking nonetheless.

“I guess I can try to start fights only out of school grounds. And be a little less shitty to the teachers.”

The admission was half-assed at best, mumbled under the boy’s breath and accompanied by an annoyed huff, but to Satoru it was enough.

“I’ll take it.” He laughed, walking up to Megumi and affectionately ruffling his hair before walking away, narrowly avoiding the boy’s swatting hands. 

Perhaps it wasn’t the best deal they could have struck. 

If Satoru had been a better guardian he may have gotten Megumi to actually realize that his behavior had been wrong and sincerely apologize for it. If he had been a better guardian his bad behavior may have never gotten that bad in the first place. 

But Satoru was just Satoru and this was the best he could do. 

It wasn’t enough. None of what Satoru did for these children was enough, none was what they truly deserved. A lot of things were out of his control, and despite how much he wished to, he couldn't change them, strongest sorcerer or not. So he just had to settle for the best he could do with what he had. 

It was only fair that, in return, Megumi also just gave back partial sentiments, not the best that he could do but just enough to pass.

Somehow, they made it work. Somehow, it was enough. And that’s all that matters.

5.

Satoru was no stranger to loss.

No sorcerer had that privilege, and Satoru least of all. 

Such was the life of the strongest. No one really stayed, but him. Everyone eventually met the same cruel fate, except for him. He was always there, his existence was always a constant. Some nights he dreams about chaos and death everywhere, surrounding him, filling his every sense, as he just stands there, perfectly still and unharmed under the shield of Infinity. Those nightmares haunted him even through the day because he knew that, even though they weren’t real, they were plausible. 

He was safe from basically anything and everything. Everyone else wasn’t and there wasn’t much he could do about it.

It wasn’t an ideal existence, far from it, but Satoru could handle it, had always handled it just fine.

The trick was to just keep your distance. To keep everyone at arm’s length, not really shutting them out but not letting them in either. It was the only valuable lesson that his clan had thrust upon him as a child, the only one that he still agreed with. 

While this detached way of living might be a little lonely, it was much better than being in a constant state of grief, always hurting for those who didn’t have the fortune of being as strong as him. 

He would always be lonely, after all. That’s what being at the top meant.

So, all his life, he smiled and laughed and teased, but he never actually bonded with people. There where Infinity ended a new shield began, one made of arrogance,carelessness, snark, selfishness and insensitivity, that kept him safe from any human connection deeper than necessary. 

The only person that he had willingly lowered each and every one of his shields for was Suguru. 

In his mind it made sense: Suguru was just like him, after all. He was the only one that could match his strength, that could keep up with his unrelenting pace. He wasn’t like everyone else. Satoru didn’t have to keep himself from getting attached, because Suguru was strong. Suguru would stay right by his side. They were the strongest together .

But then Suguru had done the unexpected: left.

He didn’t leave in the same way that everyone else did: he wasn’t ripped away from the Earth by a curse, didn’t end up being just another pile of rotting flesh and bones buried in the backyard of the school, a crooked tombstone as the only evidence left of his existence.

He simply walked away, chose to walk out of Satoru’s life, and somehow that made the hurt cut even deeper.

After that he vowed to go back to his old way of life. To stand by himself as he watched from a distance people entering and exiting his life, smiling as they entered and paying his respects as they exited, but never truly taking any of it to heart.

But then the two tiny kids that he saved from the Zen’in clan screwed up his plans, worming their way into his empty heart and filling it to the brim with laughter and movie nights and terrible drawings and hand holding and slightly burnt cookies and so many other things and emotions that up until then had been completely foreign to him.

And then he started teaching and somehow he found more room in his heart for dozens of crazy, strong, undisciplined and passionate teenagers.

He told himself that this was different, that it wouldn’t end like it always did.

Both the Fushiguro siblings and his students were under his protection. They were his . And he was Gojo fucking Satoru . He was the strongest sorcerer alive, perhaps the strongest sorcerer ever. As long as those kids were under his protection nothing would happen to them, nothing could touch them.

That’s what he told himself.

But, once again, he had been proven wrong. 

When he got the call he was on a mission abroad. 

To this day he still regretted ever taking that mission. Not that it would have changed anything, but the simple fact that he wasn’t there when it happened was enough to fill his sleepless nights with suffocating guilt.

He had just exorcized the special-grade curse before him when he lazily took his buzzing phone out of his pocket, grinning at the name on the screen before answering and bringing it to his ear.

“Megumi!” He chirped annoyingly. “Do you miss me already? How sweet of you!”

“Gojo.” 

The smile died on Satoru’s lips. 

Megumi was crying. 

He wasn’t just crying, he was full on sobbing, wailing in a way that he hadn’t done since he was seven and he found a dead dog lying in an alley while walking home from elementary school.

“What happened?” He demanded seriously, trying his best to sound firm instead of deeply worried. 

Megumi sniffled and hiccuped, as if he was struggling to get enough air in his lungs to reply, but eventually answered in between sobs: “It’s Tsumiki, she- she’s breathing but- but she’s not waking up, and-”

That was enough for Satoru. 

“I’ll be there in an hour. Have you called the hospital?”

Another hiccup. “Yes. They’re on their way.”

“Good. I’ll see you there.” He was about to close the call, but hesitated. 

“Megumi.” He called, voice softer. The boy sniffled in response. 

“It’s going to be okay.” And with that he hung up. 

Teleporting from one country to the other in one jump was too much even for him, so he had to divide his journey into multiple smaller jumps, but he managed to reach Tokyo’s hospital in less than an hour thanks to his pure stubbornness and refusal to slow down for even one second to breathe. 

Which meant he was almost completely drained when he got there, with close to no cursed energy left in him and barely holding himself up, but at the moment none of that mattered. 

He simply kept pushing forward, barrelling through the hospital, shouldering through anyone that dared stand in his path without a care in the world, no thought behind his actions except for the burning need to reach his kids. 

He finally found the right room, and stopped only for a moment to confirm to the nurse standing outside of it that he was Tsumiki’s legal guardian. He probably acted too snappy and irritated with the poor woman just doing her job, but he couldn’t care less.

He swung the door open and froze on the spot. 

Megumi was sitting on a plastic chair facing him, eyes red and puffy, cheeks wet and tear-streaked, his hair a mess as if he had repeatedly tugged and pulled at it. But he wasn’t looking back at Satoru. 

No, he was looking down, and once he followed his gaze, Satoru found himself unable to breathe.

Lying there on the small hospital bed was Tsumiki, ghastly pale and unnervingly still. Her long velvety hair was untied, elegantly spread out on the pillow, the dark brown of it contrasting with the stark whiteness of the bed.  Numerous machines were hooked to her fragile arms, their jarring beeping being the only audible sound in the room.

The most striking thing, however, was the glowing red mark on her forehead.

“It’s a curse, right?” Megumi’s cracked and trembling voice broke him out of his staring.

The boy still wasn’t looking at him, eyes glued to the sleeping face of his sister, shaking hands reverently holding hers, so gentle and delicate, as if holding her hand too tightly would be the final thing to break her. 

Satoru silently gulped and finally stepped fully into the room, walking up to the side of the bed opposite of Megumi, eyes fleetingly traveling from Tsumiki to Megumi and then back to her.

Once he was standing just beside her bed he took off his blindfold and slowly raised a hand, letting it hover just above the mark on her forehead, focusing all of his Six Eyes on it, letting the cursed energy coming from the symbol wash over him. 

Heavy, tense silence fell over the room, broken only by the beeping of that damn machine. 

When he broke out of his focused trance, Megumi was staring at him expectantly, and he sighed.

“Yes, Tsumiki has been put under a curse. A very powerful one, at that.”

“Well, can you break it? Can you wake her up?!”

Satoru hesitated, looking back down at his girl, the girl whose hair he had brushed and braided before school, the girl whose tears he had dried after her first heartbreak, the girl who never failed to bake him a cake on his birthday every year ever since she was old enough to learn how to use the oven, the girl who cried during rom-coms with him and who always let him eat all the red gummy bears because she knew they were his favorites. A girl who had all of her life ahead of her, a girl who hadn’t even had her first kiss, a girl who longed to see the world but hadn’t even ever left Tokyo yet, a girl who wished to work in social services once she grew up to make sure that all the kids who had been abandoned like her and Megumi would also be able to find a loving home like they had.

That same girl who was now lying in a hospital bed, as good as dead to the outside world. 

That familiar pang of loss came back. It had been a while since he last felt it, but he didn’t remember it being so painful. 

Still, he pushed the pain down. He needed to be strong, for Megumi.

He looked at the boy, expression somber and apologetic, and slowly shook his head. 

“I can’t, at least not right now. The only way to break it is to exorcize the curse who did it.”

Megumi’s face twitched, his expression doing a weird thing that fluctuated unsteadily from pain to anger, and he carefully let go of Tsumiki’s hand to abruptly stand up, chair scraping violently on the floor behind him.

“Then find the damned curse who did this and exorcize it!”

Satoru grimaced, opening his mouth to explain to the boy how the lack of residuals made it much more difficult than that, but he didn’t have the chance to before Megumi continued.

“Don’t just stand there! Do something!” He yelled, accusatory, voice nearing on hysterical. “Aren’t you the fucking greatest sorcerer alive?! Don’t you constantly brag about how powerful you are, huh?! Then hurry the fuck up and wake her up!”

Satoru did his best to not wince at the words, instead tilting his head down and giving the kid a sympathetic look. 

“Megumi…”

“Don’t you fucking give me that look! I don’t need your pity! I need you to do your damned job and exorcize the curse that hurt Tsumiki right now!” Megumi growled, walking around the bed to stand in front of the man and pointing an accusatory finger to his chest.

Satoru took a deep, shaky breath and leaned down, grabbing the boy by the shoulders to look him in the eyes. expression serious but gentle. 

“And I promise you I will, alright? I will search for this curse and I won’t stop until I find it, okay? But right now I need you to calm down.”

“Let go of me!” Megumi snapped, trying to shrug off his hands, but Satoru held on, worried by how quick the boy’s breathing was getting.

“Megs, I need you to slow down and breathe-”

“Shut up!” The boy almost screeched and finally managed to push Satoru off with a strength that the man didn’t even think the kid possessed. Or perhaps he was just too weak at the moment.

“Megs-”

“I told you to shut up!” The boy’s yells were grating, as his voice pitched higher and higher and got more and more broken. “This is all your fault! You should have protected her! You said that we were under your protection! Where the fuck were you when she needed it, huh?!”

Satoru took a deep breath. And then another. And another one. 

He pulled out every breathing technique that Yaga had taught him, desperately pressing back down the bile and scathing emotions that were threatening to overflow. He didn’t know if he was about to cry, have a panic attack, or start yelling back at the boy, but whatever it was he had to hold it in. 

Megumi needed him. 

He hadn’t been there for Tsumiki, he couldn’t do the same to his other kid.

“I know.” He simply whispered, taking a careful step closer to the boy, and then another when he didn’t step back in turn but simply glared up at him. “I’m sorry. I really am.”

The boy scoffed, a fresh wave of tears streaming down his face, chest rattling with a stuttered breath, but he held on strong to his anger. It probably felt easier to just be angry than to deal with the pain. Satoru knew that all too well.

“That won’t bring Tsumiki back.”

“I know. But right now you need help.” Satoru laid once again a gentle hand on the boy’s shoulder, refusing to let go this time.

Megumi bristled at that, expression pulled tight by unfiltered ire, a rage that Satoru had never seen before from the stoic teen. 

“I don’t need help! Especially not from you!” He tried to push Satoru back once again, but the man held firm, putting his other hand on the boy’s shoulder and pulling him closer.

“It’s okay. You need to calm down now, yeah? You’ll only hurt yourself like this.” 

Megumi struggled and thrashed in his grip like a wild animal, yelling and cursing at the man with all the rage he could muster. Tears were slipping down his cheeks and his breathing became even more ragged, hiccups and sobs splitting his angry yells.

Satoru’s heart wept along with the kid, but he silenced it in favor of just pulling the boy closer, wrapping his arms around his shaking frame and holding him tight. 

Megumi kept fighting even in his embrace, weakly punching at his chest and clawing at his arms, but Satoru held still. He knew that Megumi needed this, even if the boy was too proud to ever admit it, Satoru knew him. His Infinity was down, so he felt every punch and shove and headbutt, but he didn’t falter, too numb to feel any pain anyways. 

Eventually the screaming stopped and in its place there was just crying, and the boy ran out of strength to keep fighting back. And so he simply slumped into Satoru’s arms, face squished against his chest as he wept.

Satoru held him even tighter, pressing his cheek on the top of the boy’s head and soothingly running his hand up and down his back, in the same way that he used to do when Megumi got sick and clingy as a child.

The kid sobbed harder at that, hands fisting tightly his jacket, not quite hugging back, just clinging to him, as if he needed it to stay afloat and not drown completely in his sorrow. 

Satoru gently shushed him, murmuring reassuring words into the kid’s hair, the same sweet nothings he would whisper on stormy nights when he would find the two siblings huddled together in the same bed trembling and flinching at each stroke of booming thunder, as he cuddled up with them on the uncomfortably tiny bed, creating spheres of soft light with his cursed energy and making them dance around the dark room to distract them.

He kept his voice steady and firm even as a few tears escaped his control and dripped down his face, simply pushing Megumi’s hair deeper into his jacket to keep the kid from seeing his weakness.

“Breathe, good, keep taking deep breaths. It’s okay.” He soothed as Megumi’s gut wrenching sobs died down to simple sniffles, feeling the boy’s chest expanding and restricting with big breaths under his arms, following along to his own purposefully exaggerated breathing.

“I will fix this, I promise. Do you trust me?” 

Megumi slightly nodded into his chest, not hesitating for even a moment, which was unexpected, and Satoru’s eyes swelled up with tears once again, but this time he managed to blink them away.

“Good. Then trust that I will fix this, one way or another.”

Megumi nodded once again into his chest, hands trembling as they moved to clutch even more of Satoru’s jacket in their desperate hold.

“It’ll be okay.” The man kept reassuring, unable to stop, not until he could still feel the kid trembling in his hold. 

Megumi nodded again, wordlessly, and buried his head deeper into his chest..

“We’ll be okay.” Satoru mumbled.

“We’ll be okay.” He repeated softly.

“We’ll be okay.”

And maybe if he said it enough times he would start to believe it, too.

1

Megumi didn’t care about Gojo. 

That’s what he would always claim when asked.

After all, the man was nothing more than an annoyance to him. Always so cheerful, so noisy, so childish, never able to take anything seriously.

Megumi all his life just wanted some peace and quiet, but Gojo never made that possible. He was a burden, an annoyance, an interference.

Megumi and Tsumiki were doing fine on their own even after their shitty father left them. 

Megumi would have found a solution, would have found some way to protect his sister and himself. He never needed to be saved, he still doesn’t need to be saved by anyone .

But Gojo never cared about his opinion. He just barrelled head first into their quiet life, a whirlwind of blinding light, stark colors and deafening noise that still to this day makes him dizzy. He crashed into Megumi’s little family, demanding a place at the table and mercilessly squeezing himself into his everyday life, stubbornly planting his feet to the ground and refusing to let himself be pushed out. 

It was annoying. It was frustrating. It was infuriating . 

It was also the closest thing to a parent’s love that Megumi had ever experienced.

And, fuck, if that didn’t piss him off even more.

Megumi wasn’t like his sister. 

Tsumiki was kind, always so damn kind and open. She welcomed Gojo with open arms. She saw him as family, as their savior, grateful and not afraid to let it show, ever since they were kids. 

Gojo would extend his big and all-powerful hands and she would take them eagerly as if it was second nature, while Megumi always just shrugged them off. 

Tsumiki would beam and tell Gojo all about her day without him even needing to ask. She would give away hugs and homemade cookies for holidays and birthdays. She would plan game nights and movie nights, not a trace of shame or hesitation in her voice when she called them ‘ family time’ .

She had always been better than Megumi.

He couldn’t find the strength to open himself up to Gojo like she had. 

He pretended that it was out of simple hate or annoyance for the man, but deep down he knew the truth. 

He was scared. 

He so often enjoyed calling Gojo childish, when in reality he was the scared little kid. 

No, perhaps a scared child wasn’t the right analogy. He was more like a scared wild animal. Baring his teeth and growling and barking louder and louder, desperately trying to make himself look bigger and tougher to hide how truly terrified he was. Snapping his jaw at whoever came too close for comfort, too lost in his aggressive fright to recognise if the hand reaching for him wanted to feed him or beat him. He would just bite nonetheless.

He couldn’t find it in himself to completely lower his guard and trust Gojo. Not because of anything wrong that the man had done, but simply because the thought of letting him in was too scary, seemed too big of a risk to take.

Because how could he trust the man acting as a parental figure to him when the one that came before him had failed so badly?

It was true that he didn’t remember much about his real dad. He couldn’t remember the shape of his face or the sound of his voice or anything else about the man, really. But he could clearly remember the hurt . The hurt, the betrayal, the hatred and the grief that had burned deep in his soul after the one person that was supposed to protect and raise him had left him and his sister without a single care. All those feelings were still etched into his mind, as fresh all those years ago. 

When Gojo had barrelled into his life and willingly burdened himself with all the responsibilities that his deadbeat father had neglected, all those emotions that had had no way out before now suddenly could have a target. 

And it wasn’t fair. He knew that, of course he did. 

Gojo wasn’t at fault for the shortcomings of his father, rationally Megumi was aware of that.

But as a kid he didn’t yet have the emotional maturity to recognize that. So he acted detached and mean towards Gojo, and after a while it just became a habit, an integral part of their relationship, and Megumi was too proud to go back on his chosen behavior. 

He wondered if this unrelenting stubbornness was a trait that he had gotten from his biological father or from his surrogate one.

Still, just as he knew that his bad temper was truly a byproduct of his fear, he also knew that, no matter how hard he pretended, he did care for Gojo. 

He had no idea on how to show it, but he did. 

And Gojo knew that. 

He did, right?

He must know that.

Megumi truly hoped that he did.

Nonetheless, even if he cared about him, Gojo was still annoying and difficult and unnecessarily loud and cheerful, and it annoyed Megumi to no end.

However, one day he realized that the only thing more unnerving than an exuberant and annoying Gojo was a defeated and quiet Gojo.

To him, it had been a normal day. 

He woke up, indulged in some random television shows since it was the winter break and there was no school, visited Tsumiki at the hospital, came home, did his homework and played video games until dinnertime.

However, despite the normalcy of his own day he knew that that day was all but normal. 

Not because it was Christmas Eve, but because it was the day that everyone in the jujutsu world had anxiously been waiting and preparing for: the Night Parade of a Hundred Demons.

Gojo hadn’t gone over the finer details, but there was no need to. On that day the special grade curse user Suguru Geto had orchestrated a terroristic attack on Kyoto and Shinjuku to kill non-sorcerers. That was all that Megumi needed to know. 

First thing that morning, before leaving, Gojo had warned him to stay as far away from Shinjuku as possible, allowing him to go out only to visit Tsumiki in early afternoon before everything started going down (not that Megumi needed his permission to do anything, thank you very much), and had apologized for not being able to be with him on Christmas Eve. 

At that Megumi had scoffed. 

He didn’t care. It was a stupid holiday, anyways. 

He tried not to think about how it would have been the first time that he spent the holidays without Tsumiki. He tried not to think about how ever since Gojo took them in they had spent each Christmas Eve all together, watching shitty Christmas movies that only Tsumiki and Gojo enjoyed, eating take-out because Gojo knew how to cook but wasn’t particularly good at it, and waiting impatiently for the struck of midnight to finally open the awfully wrapped but very expensive presents awaiting under the plastic over-decorated tree.

It didn’t matter that Gojo couldn’t be there, Megumi didn’t care. It’s not like they would have done any of that anyways. It wouldn’t have felt right without Tsumiki. 

And so Megumi settled on eating leftovers and scrolling through different channels trying to find something to watch that wasn’t remotely Christmas-themed. He settled on an old rerun of Pokemon, only because he enjoyed the animation and the cute animal-like creatures, not because it reminded him of being a child and watching it with a certain white haired annoying man who constantly insisted that Digimon was better, like a lunatic . 

Time passed idly like that and as it got later and later Megumi started feeling sleepy, so he put his plate in the sink, not bothering to even put it in the dishwasher since no one could reprimand him for it, and started getting ready for bed.

He was in the middle of brushing his teeth when something unexpected happened: the doorbell rang. 

He slowly dragged the toothbrush out of his mouth, glancing at a nearby clock with furrowed brows. It was close to midnight on Christmas Eve, who the hell was at his door?

Slowly, carefully, he walked out of the bathroom and to the front door, cursed energy buzzing under his skin and ready to the use. In one swift movement he threw the door open, expecting anything ranging from a neighbor in need of some sugar to a curse user ready to kill him.

What he didn’t expect to find was a tired Ieiri Shoko basically dragging a clearly dizzy Gojo Satoru, one of his lanky arms thrown around her shoulders as she held him by the waist to help him stand upright, the great difference in height between the two making the scene almost comical. 

Megumi blinked in surprise, his cursed energy fizzling out as he tried to process the view before him.

“Hey kid, sorry to bother you. Hope you weren’t sleeping.” Miss Ieiri says in her usual monotone voice, though there was a hint of a smile on her thin, pale lips. 

Megumi had known Miss Ieiri since he was a kid. Most of his and Tsumiki’s medical check-ups were done by the woman herself, and when Gojo first took them in she visited them a lot. Once upon a time she had been aunt Shoko to them. 

But then the years passed, Ieiri started visiting less and less, their medical check-ups that had been previously filled with teasing and bantering between the woman and Gojo started becoming more and more stilted and strictly professional, and aunt Shoko became Miss Ieiri.

She was still there for them, one call away and ready to lend a helping hand when needed, but it was clear that her and Gojo had drifted apart.

Tsumiki had been pretty sad about it. She really liked Shoko, called her a ‘ total badass’ and always looked up to her with nothing but awe. Megumi had been pretty bummed out, too. Her laid back and cool attitude was a nice reprieve from Gojo’s chaos.

Megumi blamed Gojo for that, too. After all, it must have been his fault, he must have annoyed Ieiri too much, must have done something to offend her and push her away. 

But now she was suddenly there, in front of him, holding tightly onto Gojo and her expression pulled into something tense and foreign, strangely akin to worry. 

“Uhm, no. Don’t worry.” He stuttered, glancing confusedly at the woman and at his caretaker.

He really took in Gojo’s state: he looked to be boneless, leaning most of his weight on Ieiri just to stand upright, and his head was tipped down, rolling around with every movement like a doll. The bandages that were usually wrapped around his eyes were nowhere to be found, letting wild and unusually unruly strands of white hair fall over his face, covering it for the most part. Still, Megumi could catch a glimpse of blue in between the silver, meaning that the man wasn’t wearing his sunglasses either, which was definitely strange. 

His clothes were rumpled and, most worryingly, blood stained. It wasn’t purple blood, either. It didn’t belong to a curse, it was human . Bright red, staining the front of his jacket, his arms, his hands, and a side of his face, the dark scarlet a stark contrast against his pale and now almost sickly complexion. 

He seemed completely out of it, blankly staring at nothing, and Megumi could hardly recognize the man that raised him while looking so lifeless and quiet, an empty shell of the Gojo that he knew.

 “What’s, uhm, what’s happening right now?”

Ieiri smiled, though there was no mirth in it, and fixed her grip on Gojo’s waist, hoisting him to stand up straighter when the man started slumping forwards.

“As you can see, Gojo here is a bit of a mess. I thought it would be better to bring him here with you to make sure he doesn’t do any stupid shit.”

Megumi opened his mouth to question the woman further, but was interrupted by Gojo finally speaking up, the first sign of life that he has given since Megumi opened the door.

“I told you that I’m fine . Don’t bother the kid.” Though petulant as usual, his voice was uncharacteristically weak. It was rough, scratchy, every word sounding physically painful. But most notably, it was cold. Not because its intention was to be sharp or mean or accusatory. But because the man seemed to have completely ran out of emotion.

Ieiri glared at the man, though it lacked actual heat. “Yeah, you look completely fine. Good thing that I found you soon enough and took that bottle from you, idiot. I didn’t even think you knew where I keep the liquor.”

Megumi frowned at that.

Had Gojo been drinking?

It certainly explained his woozy behavior, but it was uncharacteristic of him. Gojo had never enjoyed alcohol, not even in small quantities, always refusing whenever invited for a drink by his fellow sorcerers. Even at New Year’s when he sometimes brought them along to the boring adult parties that he was usually required by his family to attend, he refused to drink even a glass of champagne at midnight. 

He told everyone that it was because he didn’t like the taste of it, because it wasn’t sweet enough for him, which was probably true. But one time, years before, the three of them had been having dinner at a nice restaurant for Tsumiki’s birthday and the waitress that had been eyeing Gojo all night long had offered him a glass of fancy wine ‘on the house’, which the man had promptly refused. Tsumiki then had asked him why he never drank wine even though ‘ all the other grown-ups drank it’ , and Gojo had revealed that alcohol, even in small quantities, messed with his senses and cursed energy.

It made sense. In all the years of knowing the man, Megumi had found out that his Six Eyes, so powerful and widely revered, actually came with many setbacks that the man usually just kept to himself. Sensory overload was the main one, so it made sense that his power made him more sensitive to substances like alcohol. 

So what could have possibly gotten the man who usually scrunched up his nose like a child only at the smell of alcohol to purposefully get drunk?

“Did something happen?” Megumi blurted out before he could think about it, sounding a lot more agitated than he would have liked. 

Ieiri looked back at him, and her expression flickered with something distant and melancholic for a fraction of a second, before her usual sardonic smile took form once again.

“You have no idea, kid. Can I come in? He’s pretty heavy.”

Megumi stiffly nodded, stepping aside to let the woman enter and rushing to help her carry Gojo, holding onto his other side. His Infinity was down, a rare thing nowadays, and he jolted at first at the new set of hands holding him up, but then glanced at Megumi and relaxed into it. 

Megumi steered them towards the spare bedroom that Gojoalways used whenever he stayed overnight. That hadn’t happened in a while, so the air in the room was a little stale after remaining closed and empty for so long.

They guided the man to the bed, where he slumped gracelessly. Megumi rummaged through the drawers of the nearby closet, taking out one of the pajama sets that the man had left there and tossing it on the bed.

“Here, get changed.” And with that he guided Ieiri back out the room, carefully closing the door behind him. 

The woman sighed. She looked tired, even more than usual.

“What’s up with him?” Megumi finally asked, staring down seriously at the woman in hopes that she wouldn’t deflect once again.

Ieiri gestured for him to follow and they walked back to the living room, where she headed straight for the window, opening it despite the fact that it was freezing outside. She rummaged in the pocket of her lab coat and took out a pack of cigarettes, not hesitating or even glancing back at him before putting one between her lips and lighting it up.

He stood idly by, not sure of what to do with himself. 

“Want one?” She offered him the pack, and he simply shook his head. What kind of doctor offers a cigarette to a fourteen year old? Well, Miss Ieiri wasn’t your typical doctor, so he probably should have expected it. 

“It’s been a rough day. On everyone.” Ieiri started, looking out the window into the dark night, sounding even more exhausted than she looked. “Satoru, though… He probably had it a little worse than most.”

“Okay…” Megumi slowly nodded, a little irritated at how that answered none of his questions. “But what exactly happened? Did he get injured?” Normally he would have been embarrassed at the evident worry in his voice. That night, he didn’t have the strength to care.

Ieiri snorted at that, flicking slightly the cigarette in her hand, ash falling on the windowsill. “Yeah, right, as if. Need I remind you just who we’re talking about here?”

Megumi didn’t reciprocate her smirk, still waiting. 

She glanced at his stoic expression and sighed, taking a long drag before continuing. 

“He didn’t get hurt, not physically, at least. But he had to face some pretty shitty stuff from his past. It’s not my place to say anything more than that. Just, don’t expect him to be completely there mentally for a few days. Satoru is really good at pretending that stuff doesn’t bother him, but even he has a limit to how much he can take without cracking, and what happened today was it.”

Megumi was still awfully curious. Because he knew very well how good Gojo was at pretending. The man would probably rather have to exorcize three special grade curses at the same time than actually talk about his feelings. He just laughed any pain off and acted even more obnoxious and annoying than usual, not knowing how completely plastic it all looked to Megumi, who had known him for most of his life and had ( begrudgingly ) learned to differentiate his genuine smiles from his fake ones. 

And so, for him to suddenly drop the act like this, for him to fall apart openly like this, even if not truly in his right state of mind, something really big must have happened. 

Still, he also knew that it wasn’t his place to pry. And even if he did, Ieiri wouldn’t have given in under any of his attempts at convincing her, so it would have been pointless.

Ieiri took one last drag and then put out the cigarette, carelessly throwing it out the window. She turned back towards him, hands in her pockets and expression as stoic as ever.

“I’m gonna go, I still have work to do. Keep an eye on him for me, yeah?”

Megumi nodded, walking the woman to the door. 

Before leaving, however, Ieiri hesitated. She turned back towards him, something unnervingly vulnerable in her eyes.

“Just… Go easy on him, at least for tonight. I know it may seem hard to believe, but he’s pretty fragile, at least right now. Would be a shame if he finally broke.”

And with that she was gone, leaving Megumi to stare dumbly at her retreating back, too stunned to move.

Why did she feel the need to say that? Did she really think that Megumi would behave harshly with Gojo in that state? He knew that he could sometimes be hard on the man, but he wasn’t mean , he wouldn’t purposefully hurt him. Right?

Before a familiar guilt could start creeping in he moved to check on Gojo, knocking lightly on the door of the guest bedroom and quietly opening the screeching door when a faint ‘ come in’ was heard from the inside.

Gojo had changed into the clothes given to him, leaving his dirty ones to rest on a nearby chair. There was still blood on his face and he probably was in need of a shower, but Megumi didn’t think that the man was in condition to be left alone in the slippery shower and wash himself, so that would have to wait until the next morning.

He didn’t look as dizzy as earlier, seeming more conscious as he sat up on the edge of the bed by himself, a bit slouched over and still as a statue. 

He was staring into empty space, and now that his hair wasn't covering most of his face Megumi could see how utterly broken the man looked: puffy and red rimmed eyes, sticky dried tear tracks on his cheeks, and a blank and distant expression on his face.

He didn’t even look up when Megumi entered the room, he just sat there, still and quiet. Usually Megumi would have given anything for the man to finally sit still and shut up, but now he wished nothing more than for Gojo to spring up to life and start teasing and bragging with his annoying boisterous laugh like always.

He didn’t know what to do, didn’t know how to handle this. In his eight years of living with the man he had learned how to deal with a lot of Gojo’s moods. He knew how to deal with him when he was being annoying, when he was pouting, when he was being arrogant, when he was insecure, when he was sleep deprived, when he was panicking, when he was on a sugar rush and about to bounce off the walls… And still, he had no idea of what to do with this empty and pale clone of Gojo.

However, he couldn’t just do nothing, so he carefully stepped further into the room, standing a few feet in front of the man and trying to gather his attention by clearing his throat.

Gojo slowly looked up to him, big blue eyes lifeless like those of a doll.

“Uhm, are you okay?” Megumi wanted to punch himself. Of course the man wasn’t okay, but he had no idea of what else to say and panicked. 

He was so bad at this.

Gojo blinked a few times, as if processing the words, and then some resemblance of awareness slipped back into his expression. He nodded, lips twitching slightly in what he probably intended to be a smile but ended up looking more like a grimace.

“Uh, yeah. Just tired.” His voice was still rough and scratchy. As if he had used it all up. As if he had screamed or cried until his throat became raw. Megumi couldn’t even imagine such displays of pain from the man before him, but he guessed that even Limitless couldn’t protect him from that kind of hurt.

“I should get you some water.” Megumi murmured a bit awkwardly, never having been good at comforting or taking care of others. Tsumiki had always been the caring one. 

He glanced back at Gojo and at the tired slump of his shoulders and his sickly pale skin, worry gnawing at the edges of his mind. “Have you eaten anything?”

Gojo took a few seconds too long to respond and then weakly shrugged. “I had breakfast.”

Megumi sighed in exasperation, though he really should have expected this. Gojo sucked at taking care of himself even on normal days, it was expected that he would neglect his health when looking so deeply upset. 

He turned around and made to leave, but was stopped by Gojo’s slightly panicked voice. 

“Where- where are you going?” There was genuine anxiety weaved into his voice, the strongest emotion he had shown since coming home, and Megumi’s worry only grew, an oppressing weight in his chest.

“To the kitchen to make you something to eat?” He answered back, though his confusion and uncertainty made it sound more like a question.

Some of the panic and fear slipped out of Gojo’s expression, shoulders slightly relaxing as he lowered his gaze almost sheepishly. “Oh.”

Megumi arched one eyebrow, but didn’t comment on the sudden outburst. “Stay here, I won’t take long.”

For all that Megumi constantly complained about Gojo not being a good cook, he was even worse. At least Gojo knew how to cook even if not particularly well, Megumi, instead, couldn’t make anything more complex than instant noodles and microwavable meals without causing a catastrophe. 

Yes, he was a hypocrite. 

So, since he had already eaten the leftovers in the fridge, giving Gojo a nice and healthy home cooked meal like he probably desperately needed at the moment was out of the question. He would just have to settle for instant ramen. Not the healthiest meal, but better than nothing.

As he waited for the water to boil his mind wandered, and he found himself wondering once again just what on Earth could have happened that day to reduce Gojo to such a mess. He could just ask the man himself, but there was no guarantee that he would answer. He already rarely answered personal questions even when he wasn’t broken and upset like in that moment. 

Nonetheless, it didn’t really matter at the moment. For now he just had to look after Gojo and help him feel somewhat better. 

With that thought in mind he finished preparing the ramen, put it in a small bowl along with a pair of chopsticks and grabbed a glass of water, walking back carefully to the guest room.

He expected to find the man in the same position he had been earlier, so he was surprised to find that he had moved to the head of the bed, sitting with his back pressed against the headboard and curled up on himself, legs hugged to his chest and forehead resting on his knees.

For a man as tall and powerful as he was, he looked incredibly small like that. 

“Brought you food.” Megumi called out, making the man raise his head to look at him.

His eyes were red and glassy, fresh tear marks staining his cheeks that he rushed to wipe away to no avail. Megumi decided to not comment on it, instead putting the glass of water on the nightstand beside the man and handing him the bowl of ramen.

Gojo gave a simple nod in thanks before slowly and quietly beginning to eat. Megumi simply sat at the end of the bed and watched him, studying his low gaze and trembling hands as if they could somehow tell him what had happened to his caretaker. 

A few minutes of silence passed before Gojo gulped down a last bite of noodles and then gently set the bowl on the nightstand. There was still some food left, but Megumi decided not to force him to finish it. He was probably too upset to feel hunger anyway and he had still drunk that night, so Megumi didn’t want to risk him feeling nauseous and throwing up. 

The boy grabbed the bowl while Gojo was gulping down the water and walked back to the kitchen, leaving it on the counter to handle later. Before returning to the room he first stopped in the bathroom, grabbing a clean towel and running it under the sink until it was damp. 

When he walked back into the bedroom he sat closer to Gojo and offered him the towel. The man only stared down at it in confusion, and Megumi sighed.

“You have blood on your face.” He explained, and Gojo’s eyes widened slightly, raising a shaky hand to lightly trace his bloodied cheek.

After that he was quick to take the towel and start frantically rubbing at his face, a little too hard for Megumi’s liking.

The boy huffed and swatted Gojo’s hands away. 

“ Easy .” He reprimanded, tearing the towel away from the man’s grasp. “Aren’t you the one always bothering me for washing my face too aggressively?”

Gojo didn’t answer, and Megumi didn’t wait for him to before bringing the towel back to the man’s face and gently wiping off the crusting bloodstains.

He couldn’t help but feel the weird familiarity of the scene, reminiscent of the many times that Gojo had gently cleaned Megumi’s face in the same way after a fight, his big hands careful and delicate as they scrubbed off flecks of blood dripping from a broken nose or split lip, voice soft but teasing as he scolded the boy playfully, as if he hadn’t fistbumped him just a few minutes prior for winning against numerous opponents once again.

Now that he thought about it, Gojo had so often cared for him like this, more times that he had realized. 

He had never seen Gojo as a gentle or caring figure, the man was far too brash and immature to fit into that image. Still, now that he really stopped to think about it, whenever it was needed, Gojo had always put his childish nature aside and stepped up to his role as caretaker. Whenever Megumi and Tsumiki needed him he had always been there to treat their wounds and soothe their woes. 

Megumi had never really stopped to think about how those same hands that were deeply feared by curses and sorcerers alike, those same powerful hands that could obliterate everything in their path with a simple flick of a finger, had handled him and Tsumiki with such care all those years. Those hands made to kill and exorcize had braided Tsumiki’s hair every morning before school, had prepared lunch boxes every evening, had soothed his fevers, had put bandaids on skinned knees, and had tied his shoes.

And the man had been barely eighteen when he first took them in, still a kid himself. 

Had Gojo ever received back even an ounce of the comfort that he had so easily given them? Has anyone ever treated him with care? Has anyone ever looked beyond his reality-bending power and sky-high reputation to see the simple mortal man behind it all?

He himself had never really cared about Gojo’s strength or status, but he hadn’t really regarded him as vulnerable, either. 

To him Gojo had always looked unmovable, bigger than life, not because of his power but because of who he was as a person. He was always so unrelentingly himself, not letting anything bother him or bring him down, even when it probably should have, always so proud and confident in himself, no matter what. Even without Infinity he always seemed untouchable.

Megumi had thought himself different from most, but in reality he had fallen for Gojo’s flawless mask just like everyone else.

But now that mask had cracked and the simple man had shown himself, and he was broken .

So Megumi pushed away any annoyance that he might have once felt at having to look after the man, pushed away his tiredness, his confusion, his morbid curiosity, and every other emotion and vowed to dedicate that night to Gojo, to give him back even just an ounce of the care that he had shown him all these years, to treat him as human for once, fragile as anyone else.

He finished carefully cleaning the man’s face from the dried blood, lowering the towel and firmly meeting his distant, unfocused blue eyes.

“Are you feeling better?”

Gojo blinked as if he had just been woken up from a dream. “Mh?”

“After eating, do you feel better?” Megumi specified, keeping his voice neutral. 

“Oh. Yeah, yeah. Definitely.” Gojo nodded with a crooked smile. It was such a blatant lie that Megumi had to restrain himself from rolling his eyes.

“You know, you don’t have to lie to me. You can be honest. It’s not like I’m gonna judge you, at least not more than I usually do.” The boy pointed out while busying himself with folding the towel in his hands just to have something to do instead of looking at the broken man.

Gojo snorted weakly at his pathetic attempt at a joke, but remained silent. 

Despite all of his good intentions, Megumi wasn’t really good at feelings , and so he quickly ran out of patience, huffing and folding his arms to his chest as he stared down his guardian. “Okay, what the Hell is wrong with you?”

Gojo’s eyes widened a bit at his sudden outburst, but then a weak sardonic smile stretched on his face. “If only I had a penny for everytime you asked me that same question.”

Megumi raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “You’re already rich, why would you need pennies?”

“Touché.”

“Will you stop deflecting and finally tell me why you’re so upset?” Megumi did his best to keep his voice soft, but couldn’t help the annoyed edge that slipped in anyways.

“Is that worry I hear, Gumi ? You’re such a softie!” Gojo, being the piece of shit that he was, teased, an incredibly fake grin plastered on his face that made the boy groan.

“Ugh, fuck off.” 

“Didn’t know you cared so much, Gumi.” It was probably meant to come off as teasing, but something about it felt a bit too genuine, and it made Megumi stop frowning and look back up at the man. 

“Of course I do.” Megumi stated sincerely, almost reprimanding.

Gojo froze, looking completely taken off guard by the admission. Megumi took his chance to keep going.

“Look, I won’t press you into talking about it if you really don’t want to. But, just don’t pretend that you’re okay when you’re clearly not. I’m… I’m here for you.”

When he looked back up, Megumi felt his heart squeeze at the raw expression that the man was wearing. His mouth had fallen open in surprise and his eyes were wide and teary, looking as if the boy’s simple words had deeply moved him to his core, unexpected yet clearly needed. 

It angered Megumi. Because had he really been so cold all those past years for a few simple caring words to stir the man’s heart like this? Or was Gojo just completely unaccustomed to people showing any regard for his feelings?

It was most likely a mix of both, which was even worse.

Gojo blinked and averted his eyes, a few tears rolled down his cheeks at the action but he was quick to wipe them away, and he took a deep, shaky breath, as if bracing himself.

“Today… I lost someone.” He finally muttered, voice scratchy and quivering. “Someone important to me.”

Megumi nodded slowly, brows furrowing in worry. “Was it one of your students?”

Gojo looked horrified just at the thought, vehemently shaking his head. “Oh no, not one of my students. They got a bit hurt, but nothing fatal.”

Megumi nodded, slightly relieved. He had met Gojo’s current students a few times, they were a bit strange but they were good people who didn’t deserve that fate.

That, however, just confused him, because while Gojo cared deeply about his students he wasn’t really close with any other sorcerer. The closest thing to a friend that he had was Shoko, and she was obviously fine.

“Then who was it?”

Gojo sighed, chest stuttering with the weight of it, a deeply melancholic smile overtaking his features as he softly admitted: “An old friend. My first friend ever, probably my only one. We hadn’t seen each other in a long time, but I still lo-” his voice cracked but he took a deep breath and kept going “-I still cared about him. Deeply.”

A part of Megumi wanted to pry further, to find out just who was this mystery friend that could turn Satoru Gojo into a crying, broken mess. Instead he just nodded, expression somber and truthful as he said: “I’m sorry for your loss.”

Gojo gave him a weak smile, looking as if he was mustering all of his strength to refrain himself from bursting into tears once more, slumping against the headboard of the bed with his eyes pointed to the ceiling and his lips pressed tightly together.

Quietly, slowly, Megumi shuffled on the bed until he was sitting right next to Gojo and also leaning on the headboard.

“Do you wanna tell me about him? What was he like?” He softly asked, keeping a close eye on the man’s reaction in case the question just upset him further.

Gojo remained still and quiet for a few moments, but when he spoke again his voice was laced with a soul-deep nostalgia and fondness that Megumi had never heard from him before. He didn’t even think that the man could sound so… soft .

“He was kind. He cared deeply about the people close to him, was able to create a family out of thin air whenever he went. He just knew how to bring people together. He was also incredibly stuck-up and self righteous, though. He always wanted to do the right thing, used to tear himself to shreds trying to find meaning and purpose in every action that he took, always looking at the ethical side of things. It was exhausting .”

Megumi nodded, keeping his gaze to the ceiling. “He sounds like a good person.”

Gojo barked out a laugh at that, so sudden and sharp that it made the boy flinch and look at him questioningly. 

The man gave him an apologetic look, though he still snorted with bitter amusement as he shook his head. 

“I wouldn’t exactly define him as a good person . He certainly tried , but that doesn’t mean as much as he probably thought it did. Not that I have much room for judgment, it’s not like I’m a good person either.” Gojo sighed, expression sobering up though there was still a small amused curve to his lips. 

“Maybe that’s why we understood each other so well. We were both just people trying to live our lives how we saw most fit, moved by our own blind ideals. Too bad that that’s also what tore us apart.”

“What do you mean?”

“We had a, well, a disagreement . Years and years ago. He wanted to live his life in a certain way and I thought that his way was just batshit crazy. We took different paths from there on.” Gojo took another deep breath, shoulders slumping in defeat. “I was angry at him for the longest time. I wanted to resent him, to move on, but I never quite managed to let go of him. I just couldn’t help but remember the way things were before it all turned to shit. I couldn’t help but care about him, despite everything”

“You two must have been really close.” Megumi pointed out the obvious, just trying to get the other to keep talking. Because, while his voice was filled with grief and longing, Gojo also seemed more peaceful than he had been for the entirety of the night when talking about his lost friend. Knowing the man, he had probably never said any of this out loud before, so it must have been cathartic to finally get all of this out, to direct all of those contrasting feelings out of his own mind for once. 

“Yeah, we were inseparable .” Gojo smiled, and for once it looked genuine. “Shoko complained about us all the time, said that we were codependent on a pathological level or something like that. We just clicked, y’know? He was the only one who indulged all of my craziness, amplifying it with his own.”

“Sounds awful.” Megumi commented, and the man laughed.

“Yeah, you would have hated us together. We were such assholes, pulled so many pranks on everyone . Everyone thought that I was the bad influence since Su- my friend was the composed and polite one, but secretly he was just as chaotic as me.”

“Someone as chaotic as you? Seems hard to believe.”

“Yeah, I know. But he was also the only one who had the balls to stand up to me and call me out when I was being an asshole. Well, the only one before you came along.” Gojo smirked, and Megumi found himself also smiling.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, totally.” A small snicker escaped from the man’s lips as he seemed to have just remembered something. “We actually got into a fist fight on our second day of school.”

Megumi gaped, head snapping towards the man with surprise. “Really?”

“Yup.” Gojo laughed breathily. “I made some shitty arrogant comment about him being weak or something like that, I don’t quite remember, and he just straight up punched me in the face .”

“Wow.”

“He broke my nose.”

“I bet it must have felt good.” Megumi commented drily, and Gojo actually cackled.

“Oh yeah, I bet. He certainly looked very proud of himself.”

“That guy is my new hero.” The boy smirked teasingly, relishing in the other laugh that he managed to pull out of the man. 

After a few moments Gojo’s laughter fizzled out, lips still pulled in a slight smile and cheeks flushed, expression peaceful. Megumi much preferred this version of the man to the sad and hollow one from earlier. 

“If things had been different, I think you two would have definitely gotten along.” Gojo muttered after a few seconds of comfortable silence, that melancholic nostalgia from earlier slipping back into his voice, though it felt softer, sweeter, this time. 

“Yeah?”

Gojo hummed with a nod before finally turning his head to look at Megumi. His azure eyes tracked over his face, something achingly fond taking over his expression. “You would have liked him. And he would have adored you.”

Megumi shifted in place on the mattress, the unfiltered affection in the man’s bare eyes making him feel a bit on edge, unaccustomed to it. 

He averted his own eyes and hummed in thought, voice uncharacteristically soft as he murmured: “I wish I could have met him, then.”

He didn’t see Gojo’s reaction to his words, still refusing to meet those unsettling eyes, but his voice was tight and croaky when he whispered: “Me too.”

Silence settled over the two, broken only by a few quiet sniffles that Gojo failed to keep down. 

Megumi kept his gaze trained forward and let him cry.

After a bit of hesitation he finally made up his own mind and shifted on the mattress, scooching closer to the man until they were pressed side to side. Megumi then lowered his head until it was resting on the other’s shoulder in a quiet display of support that he hoped would comfort the man.

He could feel the surprised hitch in Gojo’s breath at his action. After all, Megumi almost never initiated open displays of affection like this one. But the surprise lasted for only a moment, and then the man was melting into his side, resting his head on top of Megumi’s and using an arm around his shoulders to pull him close as he kept quietly crying.

Minutes passed by, and they stayed like that, wrapped in their little cocoon of warmth and comfort. 

Megumi snuggled his face deeper into Gojo’s shoulder, eyes fluttering close and a pleased buzz in his chest. He wondered why he had never actively seeked out Gojo’s affection like this, even when he probably needed it. It felt nice. It was warm. It felt safe. 

It brought back memories of being a child, of being cared for and protected. It reminded him of snuggling up in between Gojo and Tsumiki on the couch while watching a movie, of climbing into this same bed and curling up on Gojo’s chest after a nightmare, of being sick and feverish and clinging tightly to his caretaker in search of warmth. 

Satoru felt like family. 

And how awful was it that it took Tsumiki being in a coma and Satoru breaking down before his very eyes for him to finally admit that to himself?

“Megumi.” He was broken out of his thoughts by the familiar voice, soft yet strangely somber.

“Mh?” He hummed, not opening his eyes or raising his head from its warm spot but still listening attentively to the man breathing shakily.

“Promise me one thing: when you love someone, make sure to tell them.”

Megumi opened his eyes in surprise, but still didn’t move, quietly listening.

“Don’t make the same mistakes that I did. Don’t wait until the very last second like I did. I don’t know if telling him would have changed anything. Maybe yes, maybe it would have just hurt more, I don’t know, but the not-knowing… that’s what kills you. I spent years regretting the fact that I didn’t tell him, wondering if he ever knew how much he truly meant to me.” A soft sniffle shook the man’s shoulders, but he soldiered on.

“People deserve to know when they are loved. So when you love someone, don’t take it for granted. Tell them. Okay? Can you promise me that?”

“Okay. I promise.” Megumi whispered back, eyes fluttering closed once again as Satoru raised his hand from his shoulder to his hair, giving it a few gentle pats like he always did ever since their first meeting.

“Good.”

Megumi mulled over the words of his guardian. 

Apparently he took after Satoru even in this aspect. He never really liked seeing pieces and parts of the man that raised him in himself, usually attributed to his stubborn rejection of him, but this time it was different. This time it just made him sad.

Because he knew very well what that kind of regret felt like.

He thought back to Tsumiki. He thought about how much she had given him, how she had cared for him far more than he probably deserved. He thought of her smile, her warm hands, her soft eyes. He thought of her pure heart, of how utterly good she was, with him and with everyone else. How she always reached out to him even when he pushed her away, how she was always quick to forgive him for everything even though he never apologized for anything. 

He had resented her for always being so good. He had resented it because he didn’t understand it. He couldn’t understand how she came to be kind in ways that he never could be. He couldn’t understand how, despite growing up together, despite going through the same pain and loss and loneliness, she had turned out pure and kind while he had just ended up broken and angry. 

And so he had pushed her away.

It seemed that pushing people away was the only thing that he was ever truly good at.

And then she ended up in a coma.

And suddenly there were no more warm eyes trailing after him, no more gentle hands trying to stir him in the right direction, no more forgiving smiles and undeserved loving words. Suddenly she was no longer good, she was just gone . 

It was too late.

He could no longer make it up to her. He could no longer apologize and tell her that he did love her, no matter how badly he showed it. He could no longer thank her for always looking out for him, for being his sister.

And perhaps he would never get to. 

But maybe he could choose to not be too late this time.

Maybe he could take the advice of the man with whom he had shared that same love and that same loss.

“Satoru?”

If the man was surprised at Megumi using his given name, he didn’t let it show, simply humming in response as he kept running his fingers through the boy’s hair.

“Mh?”

“I love you.”

That did get a reaction out of the man. 

He froze completely for a second, sitting there as still as a statue, seeming to even have stopped breathing.

The only movement that Megumi could sense were the fingers still in his hair trembling slightly from where they had halted their soothing movements.

And then, a laugh.

A warm, bubbling laugh that distantly resembled a sob.

And then Satoru was pulling him even closer and tilting his head slightly to leave a feather-light kiss on the crown of Megumi’s head. 

“I love you too, Megs.”

1

Satoru had rushed back to the school as soon as he got the call. 

He wanted to scream, to cry, to smash his phone in the ground. He wanted to kill . But he did none of that. He just calmly put his phone back into his pocket and focused on teleporting back to Japan. 

He tried not to think about how painfully familiar this whole situation was. Tried not to think about how this was the second time that a kid of his has gotten irreparably hurt while he was away on a mission, unable to be there, unable to protect how he was supposed to. He tried not to think about how, once again, he hadn’t been able to save those who really mattered. 

So much for being the strongest.

He wanted to kill someone.

Ijichi hadn’t gone into the specifics on the phone, but he knew that there was someone to blame, that this hadn’t been an accident. Because why else would three first years students be sent to exorcize a special grade curse by themselves? And how convenient was it that he just so happened to be in another country while it happened?

Every day he just got one step closer to damning all of his ideals and his rationality and just murdering all the fucking higher-ups in cold blood. 

As soon as he got on campus he noticed how eerily quiet it was.

Ijichi’s car was parked right outside, empty and with the doors left open. He glanced down at the trails of blood left on the ground that traveled towards the school and he clenched his fists tight enough to leave bloody indents of his nails in his palms, trying to keep down his boiling rage. 

He followed the trail, already knowing where it would lead: the morgue. 

However, a familiar figure sitting on the stairs leading up to the building made him stop in his tracks. 

He didn’t know if his anger increased or fizzled out at that, for it was overshadowed by a soul-shattering wave of melancholy that blurred his senses. 

He took a big, shaky breath, willing down the rush of overwhelming emotions and carefully walking up to the lonely figure.

“Hey.”

Megumi’s head snapped up from where it was buried between his knees at the sound of his voice, looking startled as if he hadn’t heard him approach.

Satoru’s heart clenched. 

Megumi looked awful. 

There was blood all over his clothes and hands, his hair was wet and matted from the rain, his eyes were red rimmed and puffy, drying teartracks lining his cheeks. 

It was a familiar scene, but the roles had been inverted this time.

Satoru sighed softly and sat beside the boy on the wet stairs, looking up at the cloudy sky. 

“How’re you holding up, kid?” 

“What do you think?” The reply was probably meant to be snappy and sarcastic, but it came out just weak, tired. 

Satoru hummed in response, trying to think of what to say next. One would think that after witnessing so much death and grief he would become accustomed to it, memorizing the right words, the perfect script to recite and make it all better. But usually he just didn’t care enough to try, and when he did he was too burdened with his own emotions to think rationally.

“Are you hurt?” He asked instead, and the boy scoffed.

“A little roughed up, but I’m not the one whose heart got ripped out.” Megumi seemed to regret the words as soon as they left his mouth, grimacing and lowering his head.

Satoru pursued his lips, focusing on keeping his breathing steady.

“Did he have any last words?”

Megumi nodded, but hesitated. 

“He told us…” His voice was tense, as if trying to bite back a sob. He took a shaky breath before continuing. “He told us to live a long life.”

Satoru huffed out a sound in between a laugh and a sigh, looking down at the way his hands trembled where they sat hidden in his lap. “Yeah, that sounds like him.”

A few seconds of tense silence followed, only broken by the short, shaky breaths that Megumi was taking.

Satoru looked in the direction of the boy, glad that his blindfold partially hid his expression, making it easier to appear much more composed than he felt. 

“Megumi, I’m really sorry for what happened. It should never have happened, I should have been there-”

“Stop it.” The boy interrupted sternly. “It’s not your fault, don’t be dumb.”

Satoru smiled slightly at that, knowing that this was Megumi trying to be considerate in his own way. “Okay. Just know that I’m here, if you need to talk or-”

“Can you fucking drop the act for once?” Megumi snapped, and the man froze.

“Uh, what?”

Megumi huffed in exasperation, glaring disapprovingly at the man as if he was the teacher and was scolding a misbehaving student. “Stop trying to comfort me as if this shit doesn’t affect you too. Stop acting as if you are fine when you very clearly aren’t . You did the same thing with Tsumiki, I’m not letting you do this again with Itadori.”

Satoru frowned, not knowing how to even respond to that. “I’m not-”

“Yes you are.” Megumi’s tone didn’t leave any room for further argument, so the teacher decided to keep his mouth shut. 

The boy sighed, rubbing a hand on his tired face, voice softer when he spoke up again. “I know that you cared about him too. You can be upset. You have every right to be. He was basically your favorite student already.”

“Aw, Megs. You know that you are my favorite student.” Satoru weakly replied, and the teenager just rolled his eyes. 

Satoru sighed, the forced smile finally dropping from his face. 

“But I guess you’re right about the other stuff.” He admitted, running a shaky hand through his hair. “Fuck, it just makes me so mad . I should have been there, you should have never dealt with that curse alone, I should have-”

“I told you to not blame yourself, idiot.” Megumi scowled. “Plus, being there was much worse. You were abroad, you couldn’t have done anything, but I was there . And I was completely useless . I could have prevented it, but I didn’t, I wasn’t able to. I was too weak. Itadori sacrificed himself to protect me, to protect everyone from Sukuna. If anyone’s to blame it’s me.”

Satoru glanced at the boy, at how his jaw was clenched tightly, his closed fists trembling, his eyes heated with a hatred only directed at himself. That quickness to shoulder all the responsibility and blame of everyone around him was something that he really wished the boy hadn’t taken from him. Or perhaps it was just a trait of jujutsu sorcerers.

“If Yuji could hear us, sitting here blaming ourselves for his sacrifice, he would be very angry.” The man commented with an amused tilt of his lips, and Megumi’s expression actually softened at that, the barest hint of a smile gracing his lips.

“Yeah. He’d pout like a puppy and tell us to stop being such buzzkills or something like that.”

Satoru laughed. And laughed. And then his laughter started sounding more like a hiccup. And then tears started streaming down his face, dampening the fabric of his blindfold.

Because his student had just died and he had every right to mourn him. 

Megumi wasn’t fairing much better. One hand was pressed tightly against his mouth, bloody palm just barely muffling his gut wrenching sobs, tears freely rolling down his flushed cheeks, eyelashes now clumped together from the wetness.

And for a while it was just that: the two of them quietly crying sitting side by side, sharing the weight of their grief. 

“Satoru.” Megumi called out after a while, when they had both slightly pulled themselves together, sounding strangely nervous.

“Yeah?” The man had just pulled his blindfold down to his neck, the damp fabric sticking to his skin having become bothersome. He curiously glanced at his kid when he hesitated to answer, slightly nudging him with his shoulder to encourage him.

Megumi took a shaky breath and asked: “Do you remember what you told me on Christmas Eve?”

Satoru’s breath hitched, chest aching at the reminder of that bittersweet day. He and Megumi had never talked about it ever since it happened, so he was curious as to what urged the boy to bring it up now.

“Yeah, I do. Why?”

Megumi looked up to him, eyes glassy and an bitter half smile on his face. 

“I couldn’t keep our promise, I’m sorry. I never managed to tell him.”

Oh.

Oh .

Satoru looked at his boy and felt his heart shatter in sympathy. 

He felt like crying again, he felt like bawling for the kid standing before him, the same kid that he had raised and vowed to protect, the same kid who had lost more than any fifteen year old should ever be allowed to.

He never imagined that his kid’s first heartbreak would be like this.

Still, he smiled. He smiled oh so softly, careful hands gathering up Megumi and holding him close, holding him as delicately and reverently as one would a broken-winged sparrow.

“It’s okay.” He murmured against the boy’s hair. “Yuji was a smart boy, I’m sure that deep down he knew.”

“I hope so.” Megumi sighed against his chest, arms tightly wrapped around his waist, fully reciprocating the hug in a way that Satoru hadn’t expected. It felt nice to be held like this. He didn’t get hugged very often, not anymore.

Yuji had been the only one who never refrained from showing him affection physically, through hugs and high fives and slaps on the back and such, never letting himself be deterred by the barrier of Infinity.

After all, Satoru only lowered it for his students.

A new pang of grief rattled his chest, and so he buried his face in Megumi’s hair and held him tighter, relishing in how the boy tightened his own hug in response.

After a while, Megumi eventually pulled back, rubbing a hand over reddened but finally dry eyes and straightening up, though he still kept close to the white haired man, shoulders pressed together.

“I didn’t think it would hurt this much. How did you deal with this?” 

Satoru simply shrugged, leaning back on the steps and gazing once more at the gray sky. “Well, the same way that you deal with anything else in life. You take it and go on. There’s not much more to do. You just deal with it, somehow. You keep doing your stuff, perhaps find some new stuff to do, and eventually it becomes easier.”

“So your great and wise advice is to just suck it up? ” Megumi raised an unimpressed eyebrow, and Satoru hummed in affirmation.

“Basically, yeah.”

“That sucks.”

“I never said it doesn’t.”

A beat of silence.

“Does it ever stop hurting?”

This time Satoru actually mulled it over, pursuing his lips in thought. 

“Mh, I don’t think it ever stops . But after a while it kind of just fades into the background, y’know? Like white noise or like chronic pain. It’s still there but you eventually get used to it and don’t really notice it unless you think about it.”

Megumi scrunched up his nose in displeasure. “That doesn’t sound great either.”

Satoru barked out a laugh, playfully pinching the boy’s cheek. “Yeah, I know. Welcome to life, Megs. It sucks ass.”

The boy swatted his offending hand away, something resembling amusement twinkling in his eyes that eased something else in Satoru’s chest.

“But do you know what the good news is?” The man asked with a gentle grin, making the boy gaze at him curiously.

“The good memories that you made with him will remain good.” Satoru explained, flashes of kind violet eyes and a gentle smile overlapping with those of bright pink hair and an infectious laugh. “At first they will hurt, and you may try to bury them. But then they go back to just being happy memories. A little melancholic, but happy nonetheless.”

Megumi looked up at the man who raised him, thinking back to the fond expression that he had worn on that cold December night while reminiscing about a long lost person that still held a place in his heart, and found himself fully trusting the man’s words.

“Once that happens I will tell you all about them, then. And you can tell me about yours.”

The smile that spread over Satoru’s face was small but blinding, sincere, and he nodded. “I’ll look forward to it, then.”

With a sigh Satoru placed his hands on his knees and hoisted himself up on his feet, stretching his arms over his head to relieve the stress on his aching back.

“I should probably go check on Shoko, see how things are going with the- y’know .” He announced, slipping back on his blindfold and with it his usual carefree attitude. 

“Okay.”

The man glanced down at the boy, worry worming its way back in his expression even through the cover of the blindfold.

“Will you be okay alone?”

“Of course I will.” Megumi scoffed, proud as ever. Then something sheepish took over his expression as he turned his head the other way and muttered: “Plus, I’m not really alone. I’ve never really been.”

Satoru tilted his head to the side, taking a few seconds to properly process and understand the boy’s words. But once he did a slow, face-splittingly wide smile took over his face.

Satoru used to think that he would never love someone more than he did Suguru. He used to think that he would be forced to live the rest of his life feeling void, going back to feeling as alone and isolated as he had been before Suguru. 

But then this grumpy, snappy, bad tempered, spiky haired kid had entered his life and developed a habit of constantly proving him wrong on all his beliefs, and Satoru couldn’t be more grateful for it.

“Damn right.” He laughed, ruffling Megumi’s hair just in the way that the boy absolutely despised and resuming his walk towards the morgue.

The anger and the pain were still there, but under the sound of Megumi’s words and the feeling of his touch they had faded to just white noise at the moment. 

It wasn’t perfect, it wasn’t even remotly ideal. Nothing in his life was, really. 

But it was enough.

And so, like always, he simply kept going, knowing that despite everything he wasn’t alone. 

Not anymore.