Archive of Our Own ^beta

Gojo Satoru was not fit to raise a child.

Yet he found Megumi and Tsumiki when he was still a child himself; with an ache he barely understood still crackling and festering in his chest.

He saw Zenin Toji in the crease of Tsumiki’s eyebrows, in the tug of Megumi’s frown, in the sneakiness of Tsumiki’s step, in the calluses of Megumi’s hand. He saw him, the man who ruined his life, everywhere.

He took his children home anyway.

i miss you, he sent to a number that was disconnected two years ago, because he was weak, and the world spins a little too fast. He doesn’t get a response (he never gets a response).

They’re not much like that man, Satoru learned in the meantime. Tsumiki smiled where he smirked, and Megumi’s hands were gentle where his were cruel.

u would like them, he sent, even though he knows the man on the other side of the phone would not.

—

Raising a child was hard work, Satoru learned. He celebrated Tsumiki’s eighth birthday the same year he celebrated Megumi’s seventh. Somewhere along the way he turned 20, but he doesn’t remember celebrating it. (There didn’t seem to be much point in birthdays now.)

They celebrated Megumi’s birthday on December 24th, a few days after the actual date, because Satoru was busy with work. He ran to the supermarket and picked up a sheet cake in the afternoon- since Satoru couldn’t be trusted in a kitchen and he wasn’t about to go all out for a kid he barely knew. He instructed the lady at the counter to write “Happy Birthday Megumi!” and she did, in messy, loopy, cursive Megumi wouldn’t be able to read.

hey, he texted Ieri as he wandered around the supermarket. its megumis bday 2day wanna come ovr n celebrate ? its j gonna b me n the kids

Her response came a few seconds later. a 1st graders bday party? wht a way 2 spend a saturday nite!

hes in 2nd now actually ! Satoru countered.

har har. ofc ill b there. hes not inviting any friends?

Satoru thought about that for a second. i didnt ask him, he confessed easily. idek if he has ny . + i dont want a buncha 7 yr olds in my house lol

ur such a dick lmao
b there @ 6

He almost forgot a gift, but stopped and grabbed a card and a Nestle Crunch bar in aisle three. He felt somewhat shitty about not having a cool gift, but to be fair he had literally no idea what the kid liked, so he just wrote in the card that Megumi coud use his PS2 whenever he wanted. He threw in a stuffed animal too, since it reminded him of Megumi’s white demon dog. Kids their age still liked stuffed animals, right?

bring booze ! Satoru tapped out to Ieri, and then walked out.

Ieri did bring booze, bless her heart, but it’s not like they were going to get shitfaced around the kids, so they each nursed a can of beer like they were in high school again, sneaking around Yaga.

The four of them sat around the table in their pajamas, placemats clad with plastic silverware and paper plates. The apartment was a mess long before Tsumiki and Megumi lived there, since Satoru had a tendency to leave his dirty clothes everywhere and drop all of his belongings in the doorway, but it was worse now. These days, dolls and toy cars were strewn all over the living room, coloring books and novels were stacked in every corner, and the TV played Disney XD at a constant low roar.

They forgot candles, so they found the end of a lollipop stick and stuck it in the cake, and Ieri lit it with her lighter. Tsumiki and Megumi didn’t know the Happy Birthday song, so Satoru and Ieri sang it, off-key and laughing about the absurdity of it all.

Tsumiki read Megumi’s card for him, since he still stumbled on some of the words and Satoru’s chicken scratch handwriting was barely legible anyways.

“That's very nice of you, Satoru-san!” She chirped, in her sunny, good-natured way.

“You know me, generous is my middle name!” He sighed dramatically, batting his eyelashes.

Megumi rolled his eyes and moved to put his card to the side, but Tsumiki elbowed him in the ribs. “Fine, geez,” he grumbled. “Thank you.”

Satoru smiled. “Oh Megumi, you’re so welcome.” Megumi just scowled harder, but Satoru didn’t take it personally.

He dug into the gift bag next, which was really just a shopping bag with no tissue paper. He pulled out the chocolate bar first and rolled his eyes, knowing that Satoru would probably eat it anyways. He pulled out the stuffed animal next.

“‘S’like your technique,” Satoru said. “Demon dog.” Megumi just nodded, turning it over in his hands before setting it down on the table.

“Mine next!” Tsumiki cheered, because she was always a ball of energy. She handed him a folded up piece of paper, which turned out to be a messy drawing of Megumi and his dogs, done completely in crayon.

“D’ya like it?”

“Yeah,” Megumi grumbled, because he was still a brooding piece of shit, but his eyes were full of affection. “‘S’cool.”

Tsumiki rightfully took it as praise.

After they ate and opened gifts, it was getting late, and Megumi was practically falling asleep at the table. Tsumiki was trying to act like an adult, in that way that all young girls do, but she too was resting her head in her hand and closing her eyes.

“Alright, kiddos,” Satoru cleared his throat. “Gettin’ late. Off to bed!” He made a shooing motion with his hands, herding them into their rooms.

Two minutes later, once they were tucked in, he walked back out into the dim kitchen. “Alright,” he sighed, making no move to clear off the used plates and half eaten cake. “We’re free!”

They each grabbed their beers and Satoru grabbed the black liquor store bag Ieri had brought and they marched out to the balcony.

It was warm for December, so they were comfortable in their hoodies. Pretty soon Ieri was on her fourth cigarette, and they had finished the pack of beer. Satoru didn’t feel anything more than a light buzz.

“Lemme bum one,” Satoru asked, motioning to the pack of Marlboro Reds on the arm of Ieri’s chair. Ieri raised an eyebrow.

“Really?” She asked. “Not like you, Mr. Golden Boy.”

Satoru chuckled but it was hollow. “Well, I’m already a few beers in, and for some reason you brought,” he peered into the bag. “tequila to a seven year olds birthday party at my house, so my image is already tarnished.”

Ieri laughed. “Gotta be prepared, dude.” She handed him a cigarette and leaned over to light it in Satoru’s mouth, but he made no move to suck in the ash once it was lit. “Still though, last time I saw you smoke a cig was the summer before second year, and you almost coughed up a lung, so what’s the occasion?”

“Feeling nostalgic, I guess.”

The words hung in the air, curling around their heads with the smoke.

“Y’know, it’s almost Christmas,” Ieri said, quieter than usual, since apparently she was feeling nostalgic too.

“Yeah,” Satoru replied, because there wasn’t really anything else to say. The smoke was suffocating him now, squeezing his throat and burning his eyes, and he still hadn’t taken a drag.

He’d had enough. He sucked on the cigarette then, coating his throat in soot and chemicals. Precitably, he almost coughed up a lung. Ieri just watched in amusement. “Blegh, Jesus Christ, that is disgusting. I still don’t know how you and Suguru could do that.” His mouth turned sour at the mention of his name, and his throat felt even more dry than it had when it was coated by ash. He didn’t know when his name would stop tasting like fire, when it would stop burning, when he would be able to stomach the chemicals. He flicked the cigarette over the ledge of the balcony, giving up and tossing it away instead of finishing what he started (as usual). A few seconds later, he spoke again. “I should go check on the kids.”

Ieri laughed, effectively breaking the tension. “Listen to yourself! If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re acting like a father.”

Satoru snorted. “Hardly.” He stood up then, his back cracking. He groaned. “Ugh, I’m gettin’ old, Shoko.”

“Oh stop it. You’re barely 20.”

“Yeah,” Satoru muttered as he went inside.

He creeped into the kids rooms later, to make sure they were asleep. Tsumiki was out like a light, hands fisted in her comforter and hair fanned out against her pillow. He walked into Megumi’s room next. He, too, was sound asleep, but his hands were gripping the stuffed animal Satoru had gotten him, face smushed into the dog’s side.

Something in Satoru’s heart stirred, then, and his face turned up in disgust. “Blegh, gross,” he whispered to himself. “Maybe Ieri is right.”

—

Megumi and Tsumiki also started school that year, at a proper elementary school, not Jujutsu Tech, upon Satoru’s request. On the rare days Satoru wasn’t ona mission, their routine went a little something like this:

1. Wake up. Megumi was always the first to wake up for some reason, as if the sun peaking through his blinds was enough to startle him awake. Satoru always woke up second, around 6:45, his alarm clock bleating at him until he finally made his way out of bed. Tsumiki was last. They tried six different alarm clocks but none of them could wake her, so Satoru had taken to flickering her light and yelling “TSU!! SCHOOL!!!” until she woke up.

. 1a. Satoru was not a morning person, but Tsumiki and Megumi were. By the time Satoru got to Megumi, his bed was already made (not that Satoru asked him to, he didn’t even make his own bed, but he was just that kind of kid) and he had already set his clothes out for the day. Tsumiki too- she always had her bag packed and ready before Satoru could blink.

. 1b. Satoru always played music in the mornings. He did it while he was in school, and he felt it was a rite of passage to both expose the kids to his music taste and to carry on tradition. It was usually something Tsumiki tolerated and Megumi hated- like Kanye West or bad 2000’s club music.

2. Brush their teeth and wash their face. They had one bathroom in their apartment, which was slowly becoming more and more of an issue. They all used the same off-brand facewash, but Satoru had a whole skincare routine that the kids didnt, so he had to stand behind them and crane his neck for the mirror while the kids washed their faces. Brushing their teeth was even worse- the three of them were bickering over one sink, and it always ended with someone having spit on their shirt and toothpaste all over the mirror.

3. Get their hair together. They were at that age where they could kind of brush their hair, but Satoru didn’t want any of the teachers to think they were less than perfectly cared for, so he always tried to do something. Usually he braided Tsumiki’s hair (thanks to Ieri’s teaching) because it was easy and quick, but if he was feeling crazy he would attempt something with clips and hairties. Next was Megumi, who was weirdly particular about his hair for someone who could barely even do it yet. He ordered him around, making Satoru gel his hair until he looked like some sort of porcupine, but Satoru always humored him.

4. Make their lunches while the kids get dressed. Make was a strong word, usually it just consisted of Satoru throwing in random snacks he could find around the house with no nutritional value.The kids usually came out a few minutes later, complaining about said lunches, but Satoru was still too exhausted to comment (see step 1a).

5. Eat breakfast. The kids usually made their own, and it was almost always some weird fruit they made Satoru buy or a granola bar, both of which Satoru detested. For himself, he either made a huge bowl of the sugariest cereal he could find (recently it was fruit loops) or he would toast Eggo waffles and drown them in syrup.

6. Leave the house. They were always fucking late, somehow, despite waking up way early. They mad-dashed out of their house around 7:40, or if it was a really bad day at 7:45, and sped to the school.

7. Give backpacks, drop them off, and then he was done, finally. Satoru usually went back to bed afterwards.

He only did this about once a week. On other days, if they were lucky, someone would come around to help them in the mornings, like Ieri or Yaga or even Nanami, but usually they were on their own.

He was busy, busier than he should have been, and if he was anyone else he's sure he would have sprouted some gray hairs now. He didn’t mind, though. These were the duties of the strongest. Now that he alone had assumed the title, everything was on his shoulders. He didn’t feel the pressure- no really, he didn’t- he just got up, took care of the kids the best he could, and then did what he had to do.

He was grateful for the busyness, weirdly, since he barely had time to think about anything (or anyone) else.

if only u were here, he types out, and then deletes it, because that's pathetic.

—

The three of them sort of got by. Satoru continued his missions, Megumi and Tsumiki did whatever it was kids their age did. The world kept turning.

He wasn’t sure what to say to them. They weren’t his kids (Satoru never even wanted kids). He was apparently known for being a “difficult person to get along with”, and last week Ieri told him that he had the emotional intelligence of a “fucking three year old”, so their relationship was still slightly strained.

He typed out three texts to that disconnected phone number, consisting of gross spappy shit like you would have been better at this than me, and how am i supposed to do this without you. He deleted them all. Sometimes he thinks it's been so long he doesn’t know what to say, other times he's ready to rip his chest cavity open and spill it all, the good, the bad, and the ugly, for hours until he hears him.

Megumi is 10 now, Tsumiki 11. Satoru himself is 23, which is insane, because he thinks he's still the same wide-eyed high schooler standing frozen on the streets of Shinjuku.

He read somewhere once that time heals all wounds, but it had been six years and Satoru could still feel the flames licking at his face, so he wasn’t sure how long they meant.
—

Satou knew he was probably a less than stellar parent. He did the best he could, and to his credit, he was a 23 year old who was raised by sorcerer weirdos.. For all of his faults, Megumi and Tsumiki were always clothed and fed, and that was what really mattered, right?

The kids were on their own a lot, which weirdly worried him. He bought Tsumiki and Megumi each their own flip phone even though they were stupid young, just so he could text them on missions. It was usually basic stuff- did you eat lunch? Or how did your presentation go in history? But he also weirdly found himself texting them a lot, sending them selfies and weird pictures from missions.

After a particularly long stretch of work, where he hadn’t seen Tsumiki and Megumi in over a week, he was itching to get home. He knew that he needed to take care of them (they were still in elementary school after all), but he also could admit that he missed them. They had started gathering on the couch on Tuesdays to watch the new episodes of Gravity Falls when they aired, and it came to be the highlight of Satoru’s week.

He teleported back to his apartment, too lazy to wait for Ijichi or whoever the school would send to pick him up, and walked in. The kids were in their rooms, doing their homework and reading, which Satoru thought was bizarre, because at their age he wouldn’t read a book unless you ductaped him to a chair and forced his eyes open.

“Tsu, Megs! I’m home!” He yelled down the hall.

Tsumiki trotted out first. “Satoru-san! How was your mission?”

Satoru ruffled her hair. “Oh y’know, business as usual. Just some weak stuff, nothing that I couldn’t handle!” She rolled her eyes good naturedly.

Megumi came out a few minutes later. “Hey,” was all he said.

“Hey. Hope ya didn’t miss me too much!” Megumi rolled his eyes this time, not good naturedly.

“I brought you kids souvenirs. There was this place that sold mochi and Google said it was the best around, so I got us three of every flavor. Wanna do a taste test?”

“Gross,” Megumi said. “That's a stomach ache waiting to happen.”

Satoru pouted. “You’re no fun, ‘Gumi.”

Despite Megumi’s complaints, they set out all the mochi on three plates- the fancy paper plates, not the cheap ones, since it was a special occasion. Each of them had eight on their plate to try, ranging from matcha to red bean to salted caramel.

For a complainer, he sure seemed to have no qualms with shoving them into his mouth. Tsumiki either. Within two minutes, all three of them had cleared their plates.

“Okay,” Satoru said, mouth still full. “My favorite was definitely french vanilla.”

“Really? I liked the caramel one the best,” Tsumiki replied.

Megumi shook his head. “No way, strawberry was better.”

They bickered over it for a whole half hour, and it was nice, Satoru thought, sitting there in his kitchen with kids that weren’t his. He slid his phone out and tapped at it under the table. What was your favorite flavor, agai-

“Who’re ya textin’?”

Satoru’s head shot up. Tsumiki and Megumi were staring at him, hints of smiles on their stupidly similar faces.

“Uh, no one,” Satoru responded, carefully sliding his phone into his pocket.

“We can see you texting someone,” Megumi countered.

Satoru got defensive. “Man, no one, go back to talkin’ about your mochi.”

“Oooooh do you have a girlfriend?” Tsumiki crooned.

“No.”

“A boyfriend?”

Satoru’s face heated up. “No.”

“Why is your face so red then?” Megumi asked, because he was evil and terrible, and Satoru regretted ever bringing him home.

“My face is not red!” The kids just giggled as Satoru sulked.

Megumi and Tsumiki cleared the plates then, melty ice cream sloshing towards the floor as they carefully brought them to the trash. Satoru sat in his chair, scrolling through MySpace.

“Hey,” he said absentmindedly. “C’mere!”

“Oh great, another one of your ideas,” Megumi deadpanned, and Satoru just stuck his tongue out at him.

“Ok, stand here,” Satoru said, motioning to the spaces next to him. He threw his arm around Megumi with his left hand and threw up a peace sign with his right, and Tsumiki perched her hands on his shoulder.

“SMILE!” He yelled, ambushing them. Tsumiki just giggled and flashed her teeth full of gaps. Megumi, horrified, tried to wiggle away, but Satoru had his arm there holding him in place. He clicked the camera button, and the flash on his flip phone blazed through the kitchen.

He posted it a few seconds later, a smile plastered on his face long after the camera was away.

—

The next Tuesday was one of the first times he’d had two days off from missions in a row in years, and Tsumiki was out with her friends, leaving him in the apartment alone with Megumi. He was the easiest child to take care of, because he was somehow more self-sufficient than Satoru, so he knew he had an easy day ahead.

Megumi was 11 at that point, and slowly entering some sort of teenage angst phase, based on the angry music blaring through the walls and the scowls he permanently wore. Satoru got a real kick out of it until he started recognizing the songs from Suguru’s old playlists, and then he told Megumi to put on some damn headphones like the grumpy old man he was turning into.

Satoru sat on the rug, too close to the TV, and if Tsumiki were here she would tell him that that was bad for his eyes, but she wasn’t. He alternated sups from a can of coke with handfuls of kettle corn.

Just as he was finally about to get a kill in the video game he was playing, Megumi turned off the water in the shower.

“-brush?” He yelled from down the hall.

“What?” Satoru hollered back.

Megumi walked into the living room in a townel, dripping from his shower. His hair lay flat on his forehead. “Have you seen my toothbr- what?”

Satoru was frozen. His coke was spilling on the carpet and his controller was vibrating angrily at his inaction, but he made no move to pick it up. In front of him was Toji Zenin, and he felt just as small as he had when he was sixteen. He could taste the metal in his throat and feel that familiar ache in his forehead. His fingers itched to curse, but he didn’t, he just stayed there cemented to the floor in his own living room.

“Uh, are you okay?”

Satoru blinked, and he was 21, not 16. His heart rate lowered towards normal again and he felt his carpet underneath him instead of the cold concrete outside of Jujutsu Tech. The mist cleared, and it was cear that the person standing in front of him was just a boy, was just Megumi.

With his fucking hair down.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Megs, you almost gave me a heart attack,” he chuckled nervously, willing his hands to stop shaking.

He furrowed his eyebrows at Satoru. “Uh, okay. Have you seen my toothbrush?”

“Yeah, they’re under the sink,” he replied, and the boy turned and walked out.

Once he was gone, Satoru cursed to himself. How could he be so weak? It made no sense. He beat Toji Zenin in their second round, effectively reducing the man to dust and ashes. Even then, it was five fucking years ago. He didn’t even think about it anymore, so why did he lose his cool like that?

He made sure Megumi was always properly stocked with hair gel after that.

—

He’s not sure when his apartment became their apartment, but somewhere along the way it did. The fridge was a mess; absolutely coated with high test scores, school pictures, drawings, and take out menus tacked on with colorful magnets they’d accumulated.

They each had their own designated seat at the table, on the couch, and in the car. Megumi and Tsumiki’s rooms were no longer grey barracks with a mattress in the middle, but rather covered with posters and photobooth strips and decorations. The pantry was half Satoru’s sugary bullshit and half their health bullshit.

It was a welcome clutter, thought Satoru, who had pretty much doomed himself to a fate of living alone.

—

Satoru was thirty seconds away from having a full-fledged nervous breakdown.

help, he texted Ieri at 12:08 in the morning on a Tuesday, just as she was about to fall asleep.

???

its tsumiki
please come
hurry

Ieri was at his apartment in less than five minutes, bursting through the door with her hair half up and her jacket half on.

“Satoru?” She yelled into the apartment, panic seeping into her voice.

He jogged down to the front room a few seconds later. His appearance mirrored Ieri’s- his hair was a mess from dragging his hands through it, his t-shirt collar was wrinkled, and he only had one sock on.

“Oh thank god,” he breathed, sagging with relief when he saw Ieri.

“What the fuck Satoru, is she okay? What happened?” She whisper-yelled, frantic, because he still hadn’t explained anything.

He looked at her, his expression a mix of fear and helplessness, which did nothing to soothe Ieri. “Fucking no dude! It’s shark week over here!”

Ieri stared at him incredulously, waiting for him to explain whatever the fuck shark week was.

“Y’know,” he whispered, making some abortive gesture with his hand. “Like, that time of the month or whatever, I don’t fucking know!”

She stared at him for a minute. “Satoru are you fucking serious?” She breathed.

“Yes!” He hissed, panicking. “She asked if she was dying and I was like, uh no, but I was so freaked out she didnt believe me, then she started crying ‘cuz she thought she was gonna die and I was like, what the fuck do I do?! I don’t know what to do with girl shit! And you’re the only girl I know, so I panicked! I'm sorry!”

She shoved him, hard. “Jesus Christ Satoru! I thought she was dying!”

“Like, she might be! I don’t know what to do with this stuff!”

“You literally used to buy me shit in high school!”

“No, Suguru did! I just stood in the next aisle looking at the fucking greeting cards! I don’t know what to do about this!”

She stared at him, disgust all over her face. “Couldn’t have called one of your hoes for this?”

Satoru scowled. “Fuck you, you know I don’t have any hoes,” he replied, staring back. “Plus you're a doctor.”

Ieri sighed deeply. “Fucking fine.” She pushed past Satoru towards the back of the apartment before turning back and jabbing a finger into his chest. “Go to the fucking store and buy supplies and midol, or tylenol or something. And maybe a fucking book while you’re at it.”

Satoru sighed in relief. “Oh my god, thank you thank you thank you. You’re my best friend and I love you. You got this women!” He yelled as he ran out the door.

He stumbled back into the apartment 20 minutes later to Tsumiki sitting on the couch next to Ieri, unperturbed, watching reality TV and eating all of Satoru’s gummy worms.

Satoru, on the other hand, was a sight to behold. His white hair was matted to his forehead with sweat, his shirt was barely hanging onto one shoulder, and he was wearing two left shoes. He was also somehow carrying 8 bags.

“I didn’t know what to get so I just got them all,” he gasped.

“For real?” Ieri asked incredulously, gummy worm between her teeth. Tsumiki mirrored her expression.

They set it all out on the kitchen table. It turns out Satoru had bought 35 different brands of pads, 16 brands of tampons, three bottles of tylenol, six bottles of midol, a heating pad, and two of every chocolate he could find (“Google said it would help, I don’t know!).

“He’s such an idiot,” Ieri said, and Tsumiki giggled.

“Stop turning her against me!” He yelled from the bathroom closet, where he was trying to stuff all of his purchases onto the shelves.

Tsumiki laughed harder.

—

Megumi’s edgy phase was apparently really not a phase, because he was well into middle school and still getting into trouble.

“Yes, thank you. I’m on my way. I know. Okay. Bye bye.”

Satoru sighed, clicking to end the call before turning the radio up. This was the third time this month he’s been called to Megumi’s school because he wont stop fucking fighting people. It’s the weirdest thing- he’s not using his cursed technique of anything, he’s literally just scrapping with half the grade.

Satoru parks illegally in front of the school, knowing he’d be in and out fast. He slipped on his black sunglasses and spun his key on his finger as he hopped up the stairs to the front door and pressed the buzzer.

“Please state your name and reason for entry,” the disgruntled secretary asked through the intercom.

“Hiya! It’s Satoru Gojo, and I’m here for-”

“It’s open, Gojo-san.”

Satoru walked straight to the principal's office, where Megumi was sitting and nursing a black eye. The kid beside him looked like he had literally just gotten home from war, with blood dripping down from his hair and lips so swollen Satoru would be surprised if he could speak.

“Good afternoon, Gojo-san,” the principal said curtly.

“Good afternoon to you too, Suzuki-sensei! Sorry to be back again so soon!” He chuckled, ruffling Megumi’s hair. “What’d he do this time?”

Principal Suzuki sighed. “Takahashi, the boy to your right, was attacked by your so-… excuse me, by Fushiguro here. As you know, this is far from his first offense.” She sighed again, deeper this time. “However, Takahashi-kun was harassing one of the other children, and Fushiguro says that he only stepped in because he didn't want her to get hurt. The child verified this.”

“Oh, well then, that’s great!” Satoru chirped. “Good for you for standing up for her, ‘Gumi!” He ruffled the boy's hair and then turned to the principal. “So, are we done here?”

“Not quite. Although he was trying to help another student, violence is not condoned here. Fushiguro will be suspended for the rest of the day. You may take him home.”

“What?” Satoru squawked. “That’s such bullshit, he was clearly-”

“Do not curse in my office, Gojo-san.”

Satoru closed his mouth with a click and squinted at her. “My apologies, sensei. I just think it is a little unfair for Megumi to be suspended for protecting someone in need.”

“Rules are rules. I will see you out.”

Satoru’s hand twitched, and Megumi saw it. “Fine,” was all he said though, and the two of them walked to the car.

“What a dick,” Satoru said as soon as he closed the car door, Megumi in the passenger seat. He nodded.

“You’re in the right, ‘Gumi. But you gotta stop getting into fights. Pretty soon you’ll be getting into worse trouble than suspensions.”

Megumi rolled his eyes. “Whatever,” he grumbled.

“I’m seeeerious!” He sing-songed, but dropped it as they pulled out of the parking lot. They drove for a bit, radio humming in the background.

“Where are we going? The house was that way,” Megumi grumbled as they passed their turn.

“I dunno. I’m hungry.”

They ended up at some fast food joint, sharing burgers and fries in the silent car while watching people walk in and out of the doors.

“You really roughed him up good, huh?” Satoru finally said.

Megumi looked up at him hesitantly through his one good eye.

“I’m serious!” Satoru laughed, bumping his shoulder against Megumi’s. “That kid was like, a head taller than me.”

“He’s two years older than me too,” Megumi replied quietly, grinning.

“No shit!” Satoru was really laughing now. “Oh man, that’s hilarious. Good for you kid,” he said, holding his hand out for a first bump, which Megumi, in a moment of weakness, returned. “You got a good head on your shoulders. ‘M’proud of you, or whatever.”

Megumi looked at him, his expression a mix of embarrassment and surprise, and then they were both laughing again. “Alright, that was weird. Sorry.”

They brought Tsumiki a chocolate milkshake with extra whip cream for when she got back from school.

—

Things were really heating up for Satoru at Jujutsu Tech. It was like he forgot that by becoming a teacher he would have to actually teach, and he found himself hunched over his desk with a red pen whenever he wasn’t on missions. He suddenly had a lot more respect for Yaga.

“‘Sup bitch,” Ieri called as she walked into the classroom. She handed Satoru an iced coffee (4 cream 6 sugar extra caramel, just the way he liked it).

“Yo,” he called back, not looking up from his paper.

Ieri kicked her feet up onto one of the desks in front of him, sucking down her own iced coffee (1 cream, no sugar, light ice, just the way she liked it).

“Look at you, grading papers! You look like Yaga.”

Satoru gave her a look. She just cackled in response.

“I hate teaching,” he sighed, leaning back in his chair and slurping on his coffee.

“Still can’t believe they let you teach.”

“Who else better to teach the youth than the greatest sorcerer of all time?” He grinned.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, downing their iced coffees in their old classroom.

“Ya almost done?” Ieri bitched. “I’m bored.”

Satoru scribbled a few more seconds before slamming his pen down. “Done.”

Ieri grinned and swung her feet back onto the ground. “Sweet. C’mon.”

They ended up at a convenience store a few miles from Jujutsu Tech they used to frequent when they were students. He still remembers tiptoeing through the halls in pajamas at the ass crack of dawn, unable to stop giggling as they walked through the doors and meandered the aisles. They were there so often, they’d become accustoemed with the owner, a sweet old woman named Mrs. Wantanabe who would always sell them cigarettes.

Ieri walked through the doors first. “Hey Wantanabe-san,” she called.

“Oh, Shoko, is that you? Tell me you brought Gojo with you,” a wobbly voice called from a back room.

“She did!” Satoru chimed in.

“Oh, my goodness!” The pair leaned on the wall next to the register like they were fifteen again. “I can’t believe how big you two are, it never fails to surprise me. How old are you now anyways?”

Satoru pulled a face and Ieri groaned. “Twenty six. Stop reminding us.”

“Oh you are too much. Wait ‘til your my age.”

Satou and Ieri grinned and tossed their snacks on the counter, a myriad of sweets and crackers, and handed her their money.

“Buh-bye you two, be good now!” She called as they left the store.

“Never! Bye Watanabe-san!” Satoru called back.

They sat on the curb outside, munching on their candy.

“What’dya get?” Satoru asked, peering into Ieri’s bag.

“None of your business, asshole, eat your own,” She replied, pulling it away. They bickered for a few seconds until Satoru felt his phone vibrate in his pocket.

“One sec,” he told Ieri, forfeiting his Ferrero Rochers to Ieri’s greedy hands.

“Hello?” Satoru called into the phone.

“Satoru,” cracked a voice through the speaker. It was Megumi. Satoru’s heart immediately sped up, because he sounded like he was on the verge of tears. And he called him Satoru.

“‘Gumi?” He asked. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?” Ieri looked up at him, pulling a face of confusion. He shrugged in response.

“It’s Tsumiki,” his voice cracked on the ‘i’. “Somethings wrong. She won’t wake up. Please hurry.”

Satoru’s ears were ringing as he hung up the phone.

—

Tsumiki Fushiguro was cursed. She lay in a hospital bed, wasting away, and Satoru Gojo, the strongest sorcerer of all time, who made gods keel over and beg at his feet, who changed the balance of the world when he was born, who could kill entire villages with one snap of his fingers could do nothing.

Helplessness was a terrible feeling, but it was one Satoru knew all too well.

He sat next to her bed in silence on a bench next to Megumi. Megumi sat there, stoic, staring at the test tubes going in and out of Tsumiki, at the mechanical rise and fall of her chest. He said nothing.

Satoru stared the same way Megumi did. He categorized her sickly pale complexion, her dull, dim, eyes, her matted oily hair. He was experiencing some sort of cognitive dissonance, he thinks, because it was almost impossible for him to believe that the girl in front of him was Tsumiki, who skipped through the halls of their apartment and gave the two of them makeovers and sang too loud in the shower.

It was almost impossible to believe that the most lively girl he knew was halfway dead.

He looked at Megumi then. He seemed far away. His eyes were glazed over and his hands were balled into fists, with angry red scrapes on his knuckles from previous fights. His back was straight and set, and suddenly Satoru realized that the boy next to him looked a lot older than fourteen.

Megumi noticed Satoru staring at him, then, and he stared right back.

Satoru placed his arm on Megumi’s shoulder. Neither of them said anything. It was like they were afraid to mess with the carefully crafted bubble of the room they were in. He pulled Megumi, hard, against his chest, and wrapped him in a hug. It was one of the only times they would ever hug, and it was weird, and probably selfish of Satoru to do it without asking, but he just sat there, arms squeezed tight around Megumi’s shoulders, hand in his hair. He finally seemed so small then, and it hit Satoru all over again that he was only fourteen

Megumi’s hands fisted into the back of Satoru’s ratty t-shirt.

They stayed like that for a long time.

r u ok? Ieri texted him an hour later as he left the room. text me if you need anything. im bringing food by for u 2 later.

Satoru didn’t respond.

His fingers tapped out the familiar number of Suguru instead. I hate you.

It was easier to blame someone else than himself.

He clicked send.

—

The world kept turning. There was no use trying to fill the Tsumiki shaped hole that was carved out of their lives, but they carried on. They both firmly believed she would wake up, so her room was left untouched, like it was a line neither of them would dare to cross.

Megumi was entering high school this year, and he had been seriously gearing up for it. All of that fighting in middle school seemed to be worth something, since his combat skills weren’t too bad for a rookie. He trained hungrily, staying late after school with a punching bag, pounding his fists until they bled.

Satoru didn’t stop him.

Work was gearing up for him. Okkotsu Yuta had entered the fray, as a troubled young boy with a big ass curse attached to him. He was seriously a force to be reckoned with- a force that could overtake Satoru one day.

He had to deal with the bullshit from the higher ups about Yuta- that he was a flight risk, that he was dangerous, that he was to be executed. But Satoru liked the kid, and whatever he said went, so Yuta was signed up for classes in the fall.

Between teaching lessons and his own missions, he had barely any time to raise Megumi. Not that he needed much more raising- he was a high schooler now, and Satoru did have to admit he didn’t turn out too bad, all things considered.

It was a cool day in late December when Yuta and one of the other first years, Inumaki, returned from their mission.

It was a complete and utter shitshow. The higher ups set them up again, leaving the two young kids to deal with an entire semi-grade one curse.

They came home drained, beaten, and bloody; resigned to a night in Ieri’s office getting healed.

Fuckin higher ups. They r lunatics, he texted Ieri from his iPhone.

Yeah, this is outrageous, even for them. They’re just kids. Ieri responded.

Like that’s ever stopped them.
How r they holdin up? They looked pretty bad when they walked in here.

They’ll be fine. Minor stuff- I’m worried about Inumakis’ throat tho. Ill keep an eye on em overnight but they should be back in business by tomorrow.

Thx Ieri
We would all be goners w out u!

Don’t I know it. Satoru was about to put his phone away when she texted again.
Hey
You should talk to Ijichi.

About? He responded.

Just talk to him.

Satoru found Ijichi and Yaga a few moments later, perched on the balcony. Ijichi was explaining what went down in that same anxious tone he always used. Satoru half tuned him out.

Until he felt something- that sticky, familiar, feeling of someone's residuals other than his or Yaga’s or Ieri’s or Yutas. He was frozen in his spot.

“...cast a curtain on top of mine…” He barely heard Ijichi say over the swimming in his ears. Satoru’s heart rate increased, and he knew what went wrong, knew who was behind this, but even after all these years it was like he couldn’t believe it.

“I accept full responsibility for this-”

“No,” Satoru cut off. “It’s not your fault. The enemy is too strong.” Enemy. The words felt heavy in his mouth.

He swallowed again. “Ijichi, do you know, uh…” he took a deep breath, steeling himself for an answer he already knew. “...who’s behind this?”

Ijichi looked at him for the first time that day, and when Satoru looked into his eyes he saw genuine pity. Pity. For the greatest sorcerer of all time.

“Suguru Geto.” He said firmly, and Satoru felt his heart go up in flames.

—

He went to the scene, of course he did. He wasn’t about to accuse his (former) best friend of something without being one hundred percent, unequivocally sure.

Satoru felt the residuals before he even made it into the building. The familiar sting of nostalgia felt like a pinprick in his throat, letting all the air out until he deflated like some pathetic balloon.

Suguru’s residuals were distinct- dark, black, and bitter, powerful enough to make you scrunch your nose and close your eyes. But if you didn’t, if you stayed, you would feel warmth and dark navy blue, not cold black. Satoru knew them like the back of his hand.

Fuck you, he texted. Fuck you for haunting me when you’re not even dead yet. Just leave me alone. I think you owe me that much.

Dinner with Megumi was quiet that night. Satoru walked through the door and dropped his bags on the ground, then slumped into one of his kitchen chairs, his head in his hands.

Megumi ordered them takeout. He got Satoru’s favorite, but didn’t force him to eat. Satoru made no move to pick up a fork.

He ate in silence, watching the top of Satoru’s head. He got up to throw out his garbage and put Satoru’s food in the fridge.

“I’m sorry, Satoru,” he said, and then turned and went to his room.

—-
There is no time for pity when you are the strongest.

Satoru rose for work the next day, brushed his teeth, washed his face, put on his uniform, and drove him and Megumi to school. The car ride was silent.

Megumi went into the training room to blow off some steam before the day, and Satoru marched up to the lounge where all the teachers were. Yaga stood on the balcony, so Satoru joined him.

Out in the yard, Yuta, Maki, Inumaki, and Panda stood, messing around before class. It was good to see Inumaki and Yuta back on their feet, joking and smiling again.

“We still can’t confirm Geto’s involvement,” Yaga said, breaking his brief moment of peace watching the first years. “Maybe you’re just being paranoid.”

It was like he wanted to twist the knife further into Satoru’s chest.

He sighed. “Sorry, Principal, but I’m sure about this. I went to the scene by myself. There's no way I would mistake his residuals.” His words hung heavy in the air.

Suddenly Yaga jolted on his left. “God damn,” he cursed, running down the hall. Satoru watched him go. “Speak of the devil. Gather all sorcerers semi-grade 1 and above at the front gate!”

Satoru’s heart pounded. He didn’t want to look back at the window, but he had no choice, so he steeled himself and turned.

There Suguru was, in all of his fucked up glory. Next to him was a massive bird, coasting to the ground. To it’s left was the man himself- Suguru Geto, in those stupid fucking robes that Satoru hated, hair fluttering down over his shoulders, landing on the concrete.

It was the first time he’d seen Suguru in ten years. Satoru’s heart constricted painfully. He looked different- older, for sure. Fine lines had weaved their way into his forehead, in between his eyebrows, and next to his mouth. His hair was longer, but still the same smooth raven black he knew. He was taller.

But he was Suguru, undoubtably. His eyelashes were the same ones he counted in high school, his cheekbones still high and protruding, his nose still the perfect straight triangle.

Satoru wanted to throw up. Wanted to rip all of his hair out and blow up the lounge and run far, far, away and forget he was ever a sorcerer.

But he was 26 now, not sixteen. He was a teacher, some fucked up version of a father, a sorcerer.

He sighed and started down the stairs.

He walked slowly, like he could prolong the inevitable. His eyes carded through the entourage he brought with him: two girls who couldn’t be much older than Megumi and a woman with short hair.

He finally arrived at the scene. He and Yaga stood back like he was some aggressive dog that would be scared away if he got too close. Or maybe Satoru was the scared one. He wasn’t sure.

Satoru tuned out the noise as he talked to Yuta. He had to. He couldn’t listen to Suguru- who was once the kindest man he knew, his moral compass- spew garbage about monkeys and murder. He didn’t to taint the image of his Suguru- one that was already blurry and covered in blood.

He babbled on and on, grabbing Yutas hand and introducing himself. The smile he wore was so fake and calculated it made Satoru’s insides hurt; it wasn’t the same sly, easy, grin he wore in high school.

He threw his arm around Yuta, his sleeve sliding up, and Satoru catalogued all the new scars and scratches he hadn’t known. It was unfathomable to him that there was a Suguru in the world he didn’t know every inch of.

Yuta looked terrified, though, so he had to step in.

“Now, now,” he said, and his voice did not shake. “Don’t be spouting crazy talk to my students.”

“Satoru!” Suguru crooned, and hearing his first name from those lips felt like a punch to the gut. “It’s been so long!” For a second, he sounded so authentic that Satoru almost believed he was happy to see him.

Satoru’s stomach lurched. “Step away from them, Suguru.”

Suguru didn’t. He looked back at Satoru, his face cold and unfeeling, so different from young Suguru, and Satoru can’t believe he ever thought they looked alike. “I heard all about the excellent first years! I see. So they’re under your care, huh? A special grade cursed human, a cursed speech user descendant, and,” his face turned up in some sort of maniacal smile that ended up looking more like a grimace. “The Zenin family failure.”

Maki growled. “Why you-!”

He shoved her arm away with more force than needed. “Careful what you say, now. I don’t need… a monkey like you in my world.”

Satoru swallowed.

Yuta threw his arm off of him, saying something like he didn’t like people who were mean to his friends. He's a good kid, Satoru thought absent-mindedly, but he was still too focused on what Suguru had said. Monkeys?

“My apologies,” Suguru responded, and Satoru snapped back to reality. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

Satoru walked forward, up to the man he barely recognized, but he was not afraid. “So then, why did you come here?” There was an obvious double meaning in his words, that he wazn’t sure if Suguru caught. He was bitter. Not for Yuta or Maki, but for himself.

“To declare war.”

He started screaming then, to everyone on the campus, about how he was going to raise hell against them in a few weeks. Satoru couldn’t breathe.

One of the girls behind him interrupted him, then. “Ahhh! Master Geto, the store’s closing soon!” And Suguru turned, and smiled at her, his real smile that Satoru could recognize. It was somehow worse that the man in front of him was still the same Suguru.

“Sorry Satoru,” he said. “The girls want to try the crepe shop on Takeshita street. I’ll be on my way.”

“Leaving?” Satoru asked, because he knew he had to. “Not on my watch,” but it sounded so lame, even to his own ears.

“Don’t try it,” Suguru said, as coldly as he had spoken in Shinjuku 10 years ago. “Your precious students are all within my range.”

But Satoru heard the real threat in those words- I know you won’t. Why bother threatening me when we both know you’re not going to do anything?

And Satoru hated him, hated himself, because Suguru was right, he wouldn’t have done anything.

He climbed back onto some curse and flew away, leaving Satoru standing there, wide-eyed and helpless, once again.

He turned away from his students and Yaga and calmly walked inside. He found the bathroom and walked towards the toilet, not even bothering to lock the door behind him, before emptying his guts into it.

After two minutes, he took a deep breath, swished some water from the sink around in his mouth, and washed his hands. He slipped out his phone and sent a text, a last resort, desperate plea: please don’t do this. And then he walked out.

He was trapped in meetings for the rest of the day to strategize against and dissect Suguru Geto. Satoru was basically in charge of them, having to answer questions left and right, since, according to Yaga, he knew Suguru the best. He was right, but the whole afternoon was cruel, and he felt like he couldn’t breathe properly until he got into his car.

When he got home, he didn’t eat, didn’t talk to Megumi, didn’t turn on the TV. He just dropped his bag in the doorway, marched straight to his room, and shut the door.

He lived like that until December 24th.

—

Satoru woke up early that day. He couldn’t sleep, obviously, so after a night of tossing and turning he finally rolled out of bed at 4 in the morning.

He walked onto his balcony, staring at the sun as it came up, watching it paint the city in dark oranges and pinks.

Suguru would attack today. Satoru’s heartbeat strummed nervously under his skin as he gripped the railing like it was holding him there, digging his knuckles into the plastic until they turned white. He kept staring out. He did not cry. He just stared.

He heard Megumi wake up a little after the sun. It wasn’t bright out- gloomy clouds swirled around the sky, covering the light. It was cold, too, even for December. Fitting.

He went inside, then, and brushed his teeth and got dressed. Megumi wasn’t going to school today, so he sat on the couch.

Satoru could feel the boy's eyes on him as he walked out, like he was afraid Satoru, the strongest sorcerer, would buckle or yield.

“I’ll see you tonight, Megumi,” he whispered, eyes not leaving the front door. Megumi didn’t respond.

—

Satoru arrived in Shinjuku a few seconds later thanks to his teleportation.

On top of a building stood a tall man with gold earrings. He was easily a grade one sorcerer, and Satoru could feel the power radiating off of him.

It didn’t make sense. Why was he waiting in the back instead of being on the frontlines with Geto? He was obviously strong. If all their men were stronger than that, they were surely fu-

“GOJO!” Ijichi yelled, interrupting his thoughts. “I know the timing’s not good, but…” he tuned Ijichi out.

Something was wrong. Where was Suguru?

Oh fuck, he’s an idiot.

He ran towards Inumaki and Panda, dread seeping into his chest. Of course this was a fucking distraction. How could he be so stupid?

“TOGE! PANDA!”

He grabbed Toge by his shirt, Panda by the scruff on the back of his neck. “No time for questions! I’m sending you to Jujutsu High!”

Ignoring their protests, he released them and started drawing a circle on the ground.

“Geto is at Jujutsu High. For sure! Maybe! Definitely!” He had to be. This was a perfect front- drag all the good sorcerers out to Shinjuku and leave Yuta and Maki there to fend for themselves.

“If I’m right,” his heart sped up. “Worst case is Yuta and Maki wil die!” He finished drawing the circle.

“I’ll go as soon as I’m done here!” He clamped his hands together. “I’m sorry! Protect them with your lives!” And then they were gone.

He must have been acting irrationally. Sending two high schoolers to deal with the most evil curse user on the earth was terrible, and exactly what he promised not to be when he became a teacher.

But he knew Geto wouldn’t hurt them. Or he thought he did. He wasn’t one hundred percent sure. But if he even had any of the old Geto’s kindness left, he wouldn’t.

Satoru took the chance.

His fight with Miguel was fucking standard. It was such bullshit. He should be at Jujutsu Tech protecting his students, but here he was fighting some loser who had no chance of beating him.

He didn’t go down easy, though. Satoru had to admit, the guy could dodge, and the weird whip thing he had was messing with his six eyes.

He was seething, though. At Suguru, at himself, at these fucking losers who kept trying to jump him.

A curse came up on his right. He raised his hand without looking.

“Get lost,” he said, and the curse went up in flames. Miguel stood in front of him, awestruck.

Satoru walked calmly towards him and completely pummeled his face in.

—

He was back at Jujutsu High by nightfall. The first thing he did was check on his students. Guilt was gnawing through his skin and sucking at his veins, downing his life force. They were all alive, thank god. Maki was pretty beat up, and Satoru felt sick about it. He had a feeling Suguru wouldn’t hold back with her, and he knew exactly why, but he sent her into the fray anyway. He was disgusted with himself.

Ieri was on her fifth cigarette. He stood on the other side of the room, staring at the four hospital beds.

“They’ll be okay,” she said quietly, the dark lines under her eyes making her look half dead. Satoru looked up at her, eyes uncovered. She gnawed on the end of the cigarette. “Did you find him?”

It was so quiet he almost missed it. “No.” Satoru said, and this time his voice did shake a little. “I haven’t yet.” He turned and walked away, putting his blindfold back on. “Thank you, Ieri,” he whispered as he walked out of the door.

—

Finding Suguru was not hard. All Satoru had to do was trace the residuals lining the campus, but he dragged his feet, hoping to prolong the inevitable.

After a half hour, he found him.

He didn’t know what he was expecting, but he found Suguru in an alley near the edge of campus. His arm was missing, and his hair was falling around his face in tufts.

There was so much blood. So much blood. Satoru felt a little dizzy from it- he didn’t even know humans had that much blood, but there it was, coating the walls and the floor and his clothes and his face.

He looked younger, somehow. Satoru thinks it was the hair. His face was weirdly mellow, even though he had to be in pain.

For a while, Satoru just stood there, hundreds of feet away, watching from afar. But then Suguru heaved in a breath that looked like it hurt, so Satoru walked over.

“Satoru!” He rasped. “You finally made it.” Suguru swallowed. “So you’ll be the one to put me down, eh? How’s my family?”

Satoru grimaced. “They got away. Kyoto was your doing too, wasn’t it?” He had to ask.

“Yeah, unlike you, I'm a kind person.” Satoru grimaced harder. “You sent those two here knowing I'd defeat them, just so you could trigger Okkotsu’s growth.”

Satoru pursed his lips. “It’s called trust,” he said, so quietly Suguru almost didn’t hear him. “People with beliefs like yours wont kill a young sorcerer without reason.”

Suguru looked at him for a second, and then laughed so hard Satoru was afraid it would kill him. It felt like Suguru had taken a knife and ripped it through Satoru’s chest. His laugh was still the same laugh from high school that bubbled into the air like champagne and made Satoru feel like he was floating. It just made him nauseous now.

“Trust, huh? I didnt realize you still felt any connection with me.”

Satoru’s eyes were embarrassingly wet. Suguru was such a fucking idiot. No connection? What a fucking joke. Satoru can barely get out of bed some mornings because it feels like his heart is going to burst. He sees Suguru everywhere- in the mirror in the bathroom, on the chair they bought as second years, in the classroom, in the halls, in the car, everywhere, haunting him like a ghost even though he hadn’t even fucking died yet.

Suguru coughed then, and his whole body jolted. Sweat beaded along his forehead, coating him in an oily unnatural sheen. His skin was pale and lifeless, and Satoru knew he didn’t have much longer.

“Any last words?” He whispered.

Suguru took a breath. “No matter what, I’ll always hate those monkeys. But it’s not like I hate everyone at Jujutsu High. It’s just that… in this world, I couldn’t truly be happy from the bottom of my heart.”

Tears were falling from Satoru’s eyes in earnest. Suguru’s words were like a dagger into his chest, twisting and twisting, until it felt like he was the only bleeding out.

He knelt down and put his hands on the side of Suguru’s face, effectively coating them with blood.

“I love you,” he whispered, because what else was there to say? “I’m sorry Suguru. I’m so fucking sorry.”

Suguru balked, his eyebrows raising into his hairline. He laughed then, a surprised gigle that punched it’s way out of his chest and heated his face. He looked so alive for a second, that Satoru wanted to run to Ieri and beg her to heal him, but he didn’t, because he’d already been so selfish, he wouldn’t do it again.

“At least curse me a little at the very end.”

And so Satoru did, snapping his fingers and rendering Suguru Geto to smoke and ashes.

—

Satoru? Ieri texted him, ten minutes later. Did you find him?

He was still sitting there, staring blankly at the corpse of the only man he’d ever love, waiting for someone to snap him out of his trance. Regret seeped into his pores. He wanted to fix it, to tie Suguru’s hair up and heal his injuries, even if it meant they were forever doomed to opposite sides of the battlefield.

He felt haunted after Suguru left him in Shinjuku. That feeling was absolutely nothing compared to now. Gone and dead, he learned, were two very different things.

He’s dead, was all he texted Ieri. I’ll handle it. Just make sure the kids are okay.

He clicked out of messages and turned his phone off, not wanting to read the response.

He caught a glimpse of his lock screen, then, a selfie of him, Megumi, and Tsumiki in the kitchen, and above it was the date. December 24th, 2017, which finally registered in his head as Christmas. Just his luck.

Satoru cried for the third time in his life that day. And he really cried- snot coating his face, tears sliding down his cheeks- and he made no move to wipe any of it away. He just let his tears drip onto Suguru’s corpse, now a bag of bones that was getting colder by the second.

He didn’t dispose of the body. How could he? He could barely look at it. Instead, he pressed a kiss to his cool temple, stood up, and left. That would be someone elses mess to clean up, just this time.

—

He got home late that day, long after the sun had set. On the table were two boxes of take out from Ieri. There was a sticky note on top of them. “Please eat Satoru. And call me tonight. I’m sorry.” It was a real testament to their closeness. Satoru would have probably jumped off the balcony if Ieri was sitting at his table, waiting to have some gross conversation about their feeeeelingggsss. She probably felt the same.

The first thing he did was get into the shower. He took the clothes he was wearing and threw them into the trash, clothes forever soiled by blood and the sour taste of regret. He made the water as hot as it could go and turned off his infinity so it burned his skin raw. He just stood there, watching Suguru’s blood wash off his hands and swirl down the drain.

After a while, his vision was starting to blur. Megumi knocked on the door.

“Are you okay in there?”

Satoru turned off the water.

He got dressed, opting for a ratty old pair of sweatpants and Suguru’s old Jujutsu Tech hoodie, which he found in the back of his closet. He couldn’t even be bothered to cry at that point. It used to be so big on him, but it was tight at the shoulders and short on the waist now. It didn’t smell like Suguru anymore. He didn’t care.

He trudged into the kitchen, hair dripping onto the floor. He shoved the food to the side and sat at the table, plopping his head into his hands.

Megumi walked into the kitchen a few seconds later. Satoru didn’t look up.

He stared at Satoru for a second before clearing his throat.

“Ieri told me. About- y’know. Not a lot,” he added. “Just the gist, but enough. I didn’t realize you guys were so close.” He was not good at feelings, but Satoru appreciated the effort, so he lifted his head. His eyes were bare, and Megumi could see the exhaustion pooling at the corners, the bright flash of the six eyes reduced to a dim flicker. “I’m sorry, y’know.” Megumi made another face. “I’m here for you.”

It was probaby the kindest thing Megumi had ever said, and it took all of Satoru’s willpower not to cry. “Thank you ‘Gumi,” he whispered, not trusting his voice.

Megumi stared at him for another second, brows furrowed.

He crossed the kitchen and sat in the chair next to Satoru’s. He placed his arm on Satoru’s shoulder. Neither of them said anything. Suddenly, Megumi pulled Satoru into a hug, the same way Satoru did after Tsumiki.

He was bigger, now, but still so, so, young, and Satoru was reminded of that when Megumi’s arms couldn’t even make it all the way around his shoulders. Still, Megumi gripped on tight, like he was afraid Satoru would disappear.

Satoru held on right back.

—

Satoru was different when he went to work the next day. It was obvious to anyone who knew him. No one dared say anything, dared wake the sleeping beast, so they all just smiled and acted like nothing was wrong.

He was losing it. He couldn’t stay at home wallowing in his own self pity, since the world was resting on his shoulders, so he’d taken to being as obnoxious as possible. It was like he was desperately craving things to go back to normal so badly that he’d resorted to becoming a caricature of himself.

The only one who called him out was Ieri.

“Satoru, cut the bullshit. This isn’t healthy,” she’d said one day as they stood outside her office.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about! I’m totally fine. Maybe you should worry about yourself, Ieri! You’re getting wrinkles!”

She just scowled at him and sighed.

—

Megumi, Ieri, and him spent New Years in the apartment, watching TV and gorging on sweets. They let Megumi drink with them since he was officially a high schooler, but he only had one cup of champagne. Loser.

The ball dropped, signifying the start of the new year. He ruffled Megumi’s hair and high fived Ieri.

“‘Nother year in the books,” he sighed, not wanting to address any of the elephants in the room. Megumi and Ieri just nodded awkwardly.

Satoru ducked out while the two of them were watching one of the performers sing, walking to the balcony and closing the door behind him.

I miss you. He sent.

The number you are trying to reach has been disconnected. Please contant 1(800)-XXX-XXXX for more information.

What a way to start the year.

—

Satoru was off getting souvenirs after a mission when Megumi called him.

“It’s not here,” he said.

“What?”

“The finger. Y’know, Sukuna’s finger. It’s not here.”

There was a pause. “Really? That’s hilarious,” Satoru replied.

Megumi cursed. “Whatever. Fuck you. I’ll find it.”

“Okay. I’ll stop by in a little, the higher ups are giving me shit about you losing it.”

“Ugh,” Megumi bitched, and then the call ended.

Satoru was not concerned. Megumi was strong now, entering his first proper classes at the college this year. He and the other first year, a girl named Nobara Kugisaki who would be joining them in a few weeks, had bright futures, and Satoru was weirdly excited to teach them the ropes.

He meandered throught the stalls, picking out candies and cakes for the two of them. He got red bean flavored stuff for Megumi, vanilla for himself, and caramels to leave in Tsumiki’s room, just in case.

A few hours later, after his pockets were empty and his stomach was full, he teleported over to where Megumi was- a high school a few hours away from Jujutsu Tech.

He was surprised to see Megumi as battered as he was. There was blood dripping down from his hairline and his uniform was ripped. It seemed cosmetic, so Satoru didn’t seem too worried. Next to him was a boy in a yellow sweatshirt. He was about the same height as Megumi, with fluffy pink hair and a wide smile. He was also seemingly unharmed, which Satoru took as a win.

“Did’ya find the finger?” He asked Megumi.

There was a pregnant pause.

“See here’s the thing. I ate it,” the boy next to him, who he learned was named Yuji Itadori, said.

What the fuck? Satoru had really seen it all. “For real?”

“For reals!”

“For real,” Megumi grumbled from the back.

“That’s hilarious!” Upon closer inspection, the kid wasn’t lying. Fine lines appeared under his eyes, resembling those of another set of closed eyes. It was pretty bizarre.

The protocol was to kill him, but he seemed like a nice boy and Satoru has never been one to follow protocol anyways.

“Okay, here’s what we're gonna do,” he said instead. “Switch out with Sukuna for ten seconds, and then come back.”

“Don’t you think that’s a little-”

“Relax, Megumi,” he chided. “I’m the strongest, remember?”

Itadori dutifully switched with Sukuna. He was an easy opponent, so weak it was almost laughable. He teleported back and forth, weaving in and out of Sukuna’s punches. He wanted to show off for Megumi a little.

8… he leaned back from the punch Sukuna was hurling at him.

9… he winded his own fist back and swung, making contact with his cheek, hard.

10. He waited.

Itadori’s eye’s flew open, and his ahir fell flat on his forehead. The markings coating his face were now gone, and in his stead was a young boy, not the strongest curse known to man.

“Impressive,” Satoru mused. He presses two fingers to Itadori’s forehead, knocking him out just in case Sukuna decided to make another guest appearance.

“What did you do to him?!” Megumi asked from behind him.

Satoru turned to look at him incredulously. “Relax, dude, I just put him to sleep for a few seconds.” He shifted Itadori in his arms. “Y’know, Itadori might have some real potential as a vessel. The higher ups are going to want him dead, though.” There was a second meaning to the words: what do you want to do?

Megumi stared at him, hard. “Please save him,” he asked, and Satoru reeled back in surprise at his earnestness. His words sounded familiar to his own ears.

He swallowed. The last thing he needed was Megumi falling in love with someone who was destined to die. “Personal feelings?” He asked, hoping Megumi would say no.

Megumi did not. “Yes. Personal feelings. Now please save him.”

Satoru did, of course he did, because he loved Megumi and didn’t want to see any kids die, but his words replayed over and over in his head, and he couldn’t quell the feeling of impending doom in his stomach.

Yuji was a good kid. He was sunny and smart, with such a strong desire to help people it was almost blinding.

He reminded him of Suguru. There’s no way to beat around the bush- he just did. The way someone could consume such evil and stay so kind was astonishing to him. Satoru felt an almost suffocating desire to help him, to not let history repeat itself, to make sure Yuji stayed on track. He watched him like a hawk, noticing any small changes in his mood or speech, ready to swoop him and lock him in a fucking padded room if he needed to. He would not create any more monsters.

Nobara also fit into the puzzle perfectly. Her and Yuji got along swimmingly, and they even managed to pry Megumi out of his shell, unfettered by his moodiness or demeanor. It made Satoru happy- Megumi hadn’t smiled the way he was recently since Tsumiki had gone under.

Megumi and Yuji were always closer, though. While Nobara was off shopping or doing girl shit, teh two of them were always together. Personal space didn’t seem to exist for them- Yuji was clingy, obviously, hanging all over Megumi every chance he got. Megumi, surprisingly, reciprocated. He fluffed his har the way Satoru did to him and bumped his shoulder when they walked. It didn’t seem like much, but for Megumi it was leaps and bounds. Seeing the two of them so enamored and happy made his chest ache a little.

He was on a mission one day, leaving Ijichi with the kids while they went on a mission together.

His phone rang right as he finished exorcising a special grade curse. He wiped the sweat off of his brow and pressed the phone to his ear, waiting for Megumi to grumble about his mission, but he didn’t.

Instead, he told him that Itadori Yuji was dead.

Satoru stands there frozen for a second, heart falling through his shoes the same way it did when he found out about Tsumiki. And the worst part was that his first thought wasn’t oh my god, Yuji; it was oh my god, Megumi, because he could feel the prickly hurt from all of those miles away.

Satoru learned that deja vu tasted bitter on his tongue that day, and that Suguru’s ghost still lingered in his peripheral vision.

He found Megumi before anyone else, and sat down next to him on the bench outside of Ieri’s morgue. They steeped in suffocating silence for a minute, but Satoru knew he had to break it, knew he had to say something, but his mouth felt dry and his tongue felt too big.

“I never told you the whole story with Suguru, did I?” he whispered, so, so, quietly, refusing to meet Megumi’s eyes. “We were inseparable at school. We had the keys to each other’s rooms, I went to his family’s house for breaks, we shared the same closet. I mean, seriously, we were practically conjoined at the hip. Ask Ieri, she’ll tell you.” He paused for a second, staring up at the sky. His face looked pained. Megumi stared up at him from under his hair, his face a picture of absolute sorrow as he waited for Satoru to continue. “We had this mission, my second year, um… things went wrong.” Megumi’s eyebrows raised. Satoru chuckled nervously. “I know, crazy right? I was young then, and really, really, stupid.” His voice shook a little. “We drifted after that, and I didn’t do anything. I just kind of let it happen. And then he left, and that was that, and all I could think was, what the fuck do I do now?” He took a shaky breath. “It’s hard learning to exist on your own when you were always a package deal with someone else.”

Megumi said nothing. He looked helpless the same way Satoru had. They really were so alike. “I don’t… I don’t…” he exhaled hard, like he was frustrated he couldn’t figure out what to say. “I don’t want to learn how to exist by myself,” he settled on, voice so quiet it was barely there.

Satoru’s heart broke like he was sixteen again, and he heard his own voice instead of Megumi’s.

“Yeah,” he said, and his voice was soft, but not pitying. “But you will. The world will keep turning, even if you don’t want it to.” He lets that sit for a minute, and then stands.

“You’ll be okay, he whispers, ruffles his hair, and then walks into the morgue.

Yuji Itadori was not dead, and Satoru was absolutely, 100% relieved, but he felt a childish stab of jealousy at their second chance.

He didn't tell Megumi about Yuji, though. He had a lot of reasons, and half of them are because he’s a shit. The other half, though, is because Satoru knew Megumi needed to get strong apart from Yuji, that he needed to understand loss so he could appreciate what he had.

Satoru had no real right to make that choice for him, but he was not perfect, and his judgement was forever clouded by a broad, navy blue back turning and walkng away from him.

—

When did we get so similar?, was all Gojo could think as he watched Megumi slam a particularly hard kick into Inumaki’s face. His knuckles were scraped red, his hair was matted to his forehead, and his breath was coming in ragged gasps. Everyone seemed a little put off- Megumi was always intense, sure, but in that moment he looked positively rabid. There was a fire in his eyes that burned bright and hot. It was a fire that couldn’t be quenched by any amount of water, a fire that would destroy and conquer until only ashes were left. Gojo recognized it- it looks like anger, but it is frustration. It is a desperate, white-hot desire to get stronger and to not get beat again; a desire that claws it’s way up your throat and squeezes, a desire that churns your insides to mush, that makes you want to rip out your hair and pull out your skin and scream. It’s grief, too- grief for the person you used to be, for the person they used to be. Grief that you couldn’t fix it, grief so potent and bottled up that it could kill the strongest of curses.

Inumkai hit Megumi a few times, and Satoru watched as blood dripped down his chin, staining his skin with crimson. He made no move to wipe it away; he just bared his teeth and lunged to tackle Inumaki.

Satoru watched Inumaki fall. Megumi stood then, peering down at the older boy with rage in his eyes, his chest heaving. In the fall mist, he looked like his father.

Satoru swallowed. He was glad Yuji was coming back tomorrow.

—

Megumi didn’t talk to him for a week afterwards, Nobara for two and a half. He doesn’t feel as guilty as he probably should. The pair quickly resumed their bickering relationship afterwards, and it seemed like all was forgiven.

If Satoru thought he and Yuji were close before, they were inseparable now. Megumi was glued to Yuji’s side when he returned, running off with him and Nobara to shop and exorcize and eat in the city.

He sees himself, Suguru, and Ieri in their silhouettes, but notices how their eyes are brighter, their backs are straighter, and their smiles are wider.

Satoru wasn’t perfect no matter how many times he claimed to be- he knew that moreso than everyone else- but he let himself feel some pride at how the kids turned out. He lets himself watch them laugh and bicker, and smiles at how they are what he couldn’t be.

He was starting to think the future was going to be okay.

And then a monster in a costume of his Suguru Geto walks in on Halloween night, because of course Satoru could never escape his haunting, and then it all just goes to shit.