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Sunflowers.
Megumi’s eyes flutter to the sight of a delightful scar.
He knows this is a dream, but it was a real memory flashing in his eyes, one that he’s never been able to recall before.
The scar was graceful, stretching to its’ full beauty on a smile. It was straight, adorning the left side of the person’s mouth.
Slightly-chapped lips, rosy hues on glowing cheeks, and large, rough hands reaching out for him. And his safety in a delicate body is entrusted to their palms as he’s wrapped in strong, built arms.
He could not see the upper half of their face. It was a rather blurry vision he had.
But he could tell… they were joyous. Delighted. Glad. Genuinely happy. They smiled like it was the most beautiful moment of their life. Like his very existence was a miracle.
Tenderly cradling his small, fragile body; gently rocking him to a soft tune. He doesn’t know the song itself, but he loves the comfort it brings. The small humming is imprinted in his memory, a precious memento to cross at his heart.
Megumi then closes his eyes, drifting to a deep slumber, all the while listening to the serene sound.
He lets the darkness wash him over to a new dream.
Interlude.
Your smile rivals the vibrance of a sunflower,
Ever brilliant and happy,
Blooming with a vivid yellow power,
That I can never exude.
Shining brighter than the glaring star in a summer night.
Fiery blooms of beauty captivating me in its splendor,
Always facing the direction of its Creator
Like a lost sailor in search for a ray of light.
Aloë.
Megumi remembers getting ice cream in the mall when he was a child.
He was observing the strange tubs of bizarre flavors illustrated in posters; he seemed like he wanted to try them out.
His father was watching him from afar, hands shoved into his pants’ pockets. The man then sighs, “Stay in the bench over there.”
Megumi nods, sitting himself on the vacant furniture, unknowing of what he was planning.
The older male disappears from Megumi’s sight into the flood of crowds, not even uttering another word before leaving.
Minutes of swinging his legs back and forth were spent as he waited. Person after person passed by him, never sparing a glance but he felt like the eyes lurking from the shadows are on him, but at the same time, he feels like he’s within a void of empty crowds.
Just as he was to hop off and set out to search for his father, the man was right before him, handing down a triangular-looking biscuit with a building swirl of soft white.
The child looked astonished, wrapping his small hands around the cone, green eyes sparkling with the smooth, glistening frozen treat.
Toji just sits beside him, seemingly uninterested with legs spread wide, in comparison to the kid’s knees that were almost closed in a timid manner.
Megumi blinks once, before glancing down the ice cream, bringing the pointed tip of coldness to his lips, taking a small bite.
Chilled velvety mush melted into sweetness as he savors the flavor.
It’s a classic vanilla that his father could only afford.
The father glances to his side at once, watching a small smile stretch on the kid’s usually stoic expression.
“Is it good?”
“Anything that Papa gets me is the best.”
Toji then closes his eyes with a contented smile, clearing out the chatter of the crowds in the mall and etched Megumi’s smiling face into the back of his head.
Aster.
Toji sees the color of the skies in Megumi's eyes.
He could never forget the beady gaze of his child, often glimmering with curiosity that he could never unravel.
They glow with a glint of excitement and interest, with every thing it explores, may it be the old bookstore down the street, the trashed alleyways in their neighborhood, or the stray puppy that he saw in the park.
Toji sees the only blessing in his life.
Toji sees Megumi making his own blessings out of the world.
A small smile pulls on his lips as the child’s hand holds onto his larger one for reassurance, relishing in the sound of his laughter.
Megumi has his mother’s eyes, but he also has his own soul in those pair of sapphires. It was somewhat funny because everyday when Toji looked into the mirror, all he can see are soulless orbs of dread.
But now that he can see the life in his blessing’s eyes, he’s more than satisfied.
Azalea.
The first time Toji went out with Megumi’s mother, they eloped to the beach, where the color of their eyes can be found, symbolic of their persona as well.
When he takes the boy to the ocean, his eyes gleamed with excitement as he starts talking about the sea creatures he’s read about, like the starfish, the crabs, the seahorse and more.
His blue gaze was a living memory of his mother, reminding him of the calm ocean waves that came crashing on the grains of gold and the clear skies that rolled across the earth.
He notices his mussed hair that was disheveled by the salt water that soaked into their skin and takes a photo of the footsteps they’ve left on the shore before its washed away by the sweep of shallow water.
When he feels delicate fingers graze on his knuckles, his chest surges with euphoria upon seeing Megumi who held onto his hand with his small digits, lips stretching with a smile and wet lashes framing his face.
He wants to wake up every day to this shade of blue, the voice of his son filling his ears, to live in a moment that will last until the end of his time.
Interlude.
'You look just like your mother.'
The man remarks as he glances at the shape of his hair — same black, same spike, same curl that framed over his features that was a tad softer than Toji’s.
'I guess I do carry her tenderness well.' Megumi brings up a hand to the expanse of his neck, averting his focus away, refusing to make eye contact with his father.
This does not go unnoticed by Toji, as his emerald gaze catches on Megumi’s ocean ones. They were a deep shade of blue, drowning in the abysmal depths of the sea, accompanied by the shadows.
He speaks again. 'You both have the same eyes.'
‘Cause we are both exhausted.’ The younger male responds almost immediately, but it never came out in an exasperated manner. It escaped his lips as a gentle sigh.
Toji’s eyes travel down to explore more what he shared with his mother, halting by the slim phalanges that he wore.
‘And the hands.’ He adds.
‘We share the same wilting fingers.’ Megumi wearily says, demonstrating by shifting his digits into a hand gesture that he does not recognize, only familiar with the lines and curves that shaped his wrist.
‘But that rage, your mother doesn’t wear that anger.’
‘You’re right.’ His expression that was once serene contorts into one of madness, bathed in blood and the laughter that cascades from his lips is almost maniacal.
‘This rage is the one thing I get from my father.'
Sweet Pea.
Fushiguro Toji was not expecting to have the latter half of his plans ruined by the Gojo kid who went berserk after rising from death.
All he felt was unease, unease, utter unease.
Just when he thought he had thrown his feelings away, it all comes back to him with an excruciating ache to his chest, tugging painfully on his heartstrings.
All he remembers is clinging onto his wife’s back like a helpless beast, the joy he had when Megumi was born, raising him up until he was five and fuck, he wishes he could have seen him grow up more — deal with his teenage phase, watch him graduate, have a peaceful story of his own.
He longs for a life where he could hear about Megumi’s dreams, where they talk about what happens in his everyday life over dinner, where they could live as a small and happy family with Tsumiki.
But he can’t go back to that life, can’t return to where he left off, can’t have what he want anymore so what’s the point?
He looks into the long path that was stretched out towards the other way, disappearing into forever. He’s afraid to say this is the end he’s reached, but deep inside, he knows that he’s already lost, deep in the restraint of his own pride, in the choice of path that he chose and in this battle.
So when he chooses his last words, he tells them to the white-haired teen in hopes that his child will at least be able to live a better life than he did.
He just hopes that his blessing is okay.