Chapter Text
“Go on then.”
Your grip around Yaga’s leg tightens. He can feel your head shake against him, no doubt one of your stubborn pouts stretching your otherwise adorable face apart. He sighs.
“Suki.” His voice is gentle, but reprimanding.
You lean out from behind him and peek at the boy in front of you. He’s wearing an equally disinterested frown with wild, unruly strands of black hair poking out like sharp knives from all sides of his head.
“Don’t wanna,” you mutter, your lower lip trembling, “He looks scary.”
The boy clicks his tongue and looks off to the side.
A fond laugh booms out of Yaga’s chest as he throws his head back, the sound of it reverberating around the wooden walls. He places his hand on top of your head fondly and pats it twice before wiping a stray tear from his eye.
“It’s okay. Megumi is just like you.”
You blink up from where you’re standing, your green eyes big and curious. “Just like me?”
Yaga kneels down to be on eye-level with you, his hand still reassuringly on your head. His voice drops to a hushed whisper, one that has you leaning closer to better hear him. The crease of his brows softens just a bit.
“He can see them too.”
And just like that, your hold on Yaga’s pants loosens. Hesitantly, you gaze over to the still frowning boy.
Megumi has been quietly listening in on your interaction, rolling his eyes after hearing your initial fear of him. You look like all the other spoiled kids from his school. Like someone who always gets their way but still is never satisfied.
He doesn’t understand why he’s here. Why Gojo insisted on coming to this religious school when he doesn’t believe in God in the first place and why he’s expected to befriend you - a tiny runt who looks like she could be blown off by a gust of wind.
He meets your bright eyes with disinterest. He can’t wait to go back home.
Megumi comes and goes. He doesn’t talk much, doesn’t even make an effort to befriend you, but Yaga insists you open up and give him a chance.
You don’t really understand why you have to continuously meet up with someone when you’re perfectly content on your own. You’re never really alone anyway.
You’re always surrounded by curses wherever you go and blinded by a naiveté only a privileged child can possess, you befriend each and every single one of them.
You don’t need to talk to Megumi. You don’t need to be friends with him.
Still, he comes every week without fail, even if it’s just because Gojo makes him.
“I don’t like her,” he grunts on their way back home one evening, his hands thrust inside his pockets, “Do we have to keep coming back?”
“Why, yes we do!” Gojo chirps, his good mood completely unfazed by Megumi’s gloomy cloud.
“I don’t get it. Why?”
He hums thoughtfully at that, much longer than what would generally be considered normal. “Why, I wonder?”
“Huh?”
Gojo ignores Megumi’s ticked off glare, only smiles mirthfully in response and continues walking. As much as it pisses him off that Gojo always talks in riddles and never gives him any satisfying responses, he doesn’t really have a choice.
What a bothersome guy, he thinks to himself as he trudges after him.
“She’s spoiled and annoying. I don’t wanna talk to her.”
“He’s scary and always has that mean look on his face! I don’t wanna talk to him!”
Try as they might, neither Gojo nor Yaga manage to bring the two of you together. It appears, as vastly different as you are from each other, you have one thing in common: both of you are incredibly stubborn.
Megumi’s preconceived opinion that you are daddy’s little princess leaves a sour taste in his mouth. Having grown up with neither a father nor a mother, he can’t stand the mental image he procures of you using those giant green eyes of yours to deceive your father to do your bidding.
Much like Megumi, you too have formed your own idea about him - one of a vile villain who kicks puppies for fun and makes girls cry because he can.
Nothing Yaga says convinces you to strike up a conversation with him. And no promised reward of Gojo is alluring enough for Megumi to get over himself and be friendly with you.
That is, until one day he decides to hang out with his divine dogs instead of boredly watching you cautiously watch him.
The twin puppies slip out of his shadow once he clasps his hands to summon them, a tiny, but fierce howl ripping out of their fangs as they fully stretch their spines to greet the sun.
They yap and bark at each other, hop around him merrily and paw at his clothes to get him to play with them. A small smile tugs at Megumi’s lips and he pushes and prods at them, encouraging them to be even more wild.
You watch enthralled as they bite and lick at his hands, your own twitching with the intense desire to brush through their fur. Dogs are your favorite thing in the entire world. If it wasn’t for Yaga, your house would be flooded with at least ten puppies vying for your attention and love.
The black one jumps on Megumi’s back and laps at his neck with an adorably wagging tail while the white one runs in circles around him like its life depends on its somehow never-ending stamina.
Megumi, who senses that a specific set of jade eyes are trained on him and his shikigamis, turns to meet your gaze. You shy back immediately and cower behind the wall once more, your tiny hands clutching the corner of it. When you feel like enough time has passed and surely Megumi has returned his attention to his dogs, you lean over to get another peek.
But he’s still looking your way, his expression unreadable. The fact that his twin puppies haven’t stopped acting like they’re on a sugar rush makes him look less intimidating and more… approachable. He regards you carefully, as if he’s considering something.
“She’s just like you, Megumi,” were Gojo’s words the night before when Megumi was once again complaining about not wanting to go.
“How is she just like me?” He asked, unimpressed. “She’s a fool. She thinks those curses are her friends. And her old man carries her on his hands like she’s royalty. How is she just like me?”
Gojo placed his chin in his palm at that, an amused smile stretching his lips apart. This was the only time Megumi showed any emotion. The only time he ever truly talked, even if it was just to rant about you.
“Things aren’t always what they appear to be on the surface. You would do well to remember that.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Language,” Gojo tutted, “If you stop being a stubborn little brat, you’ll have the chance to find out.”
Megumi clenches his jaw just thinking about their interaction. He hates it when Gojo treats him like a child when he’s the one who acts like a toddler wherever they go. But he can’t deny the bud of curiosity blossoming in his chest at his words.
“She’s just like you.”
“Hey,” he calls out to you, feeling a tiny bit of satisfaction when you jolt from the unexpected sound of his rough voice, “When are you gonna stop watching me like a creep and come over here?”
“C-Creep?” He hears your much smaller voice, fighting back the urge to roll his eyes.
But he has to give you credit. Despite your very obvious fear of him, you step out from your little hiding spot and hesitantly inch towards him, closer and closer, with your hands clutching your skirt and your lip trapped between your teeth, until at last, you reach him.
“I’m not a creep,” you retort, albeit it sounds more like a question than a statement.
Megumi raises an unimpressed brow. If you’re trying to look intimidating, you’re doing a horrible job at it. If anything, you look like a terrified bunny, ready to bolt from the big bad wolf, who’s just waiting to devour you.
“You can pet them, you know,” he says despite himself.
He avoids your surprised gaze like the plague lest you misunderstand. The last thing he wants is for you to think he’s fallen victim to your too bright eyes. He doesn’t want to become your friend. He just wants to know what Gojo meant.
Nothing more, nothing less.
But you don’t really seem to care about the intention behind his words, not when the puppies have finally stopped their antics and shifted their focus on you. They sit back and lift their snouts, sniffing, and sniffing, and sniffing. You squat beside Megumi, keeping a safe distance should you feel the need to bolt.
The white wolf is the first to approach your outstretched hand. It sniffs the tip of your fingers, leans sideways for better access to your palm and crawls further inside. Your skin tickles from the slight moistness of its nose, but you don’t pull back. With bated breath, you see the exact moment the wolf decides to trust you. Its tongue grazes your hand over and over again, followed by its tiny paws pushing into the softness as if it’s playing with a pillow.
It’s terribly adorable and crushes your heart into a million pieces. You fall in love with it immediately.
“Hello there,” you coo, “It’s nice to meet you.”
The black wolf, encouraged by its counterpart’s acceptance of you, jumps right on top of your face and licks a large stripe across your forehead. The force of it takes you by surprise, so much so that you end up falling backwards until you’re lying flat on the ground.
You’re surrounded by so much boundless energy and soft fur that you can’t help yourself anymore. It starts out as a tremor in your shoulders, stretches across your chest like a bubbling fountain until breathless laughter spills out of your lips and fills the air around you.
You laugh, loud and unhinged, for the first time in the presence of Megumi, completely forgetting about him. There’s no more apprehension in the crease of your eyebrows, only crinkles on your nose from your scrunched up expression when both puppies attack your face in a flurry of kisses and scratches.
The sound of your laughter is pure and light, like a breath of fresh air breezing right towards Megumi. It fills his lungs and expands until he feels like it’s about to rip him apart from the inside.
He can’t take his eyes off of you. He’s never seen you smile before, never heard the tone of your voice so clearly like he does right now and heavens help him – it’s like he’s lost the battle before he’s even had a chance to draw his sword.
“Can I count on you to protect her when the time comes?”
And suddenly, Gojo’s dire request doesn’t seem as impossible anymore.
