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“Please, give him something for his nightmares; The child keeps calling me father.”
- Ijeoma Umebinyuo; “Questions for Ada”
“Now, you may be asking me, ‘Well, Higuruma sensei, if the process of DNA replication is so efficient, then why should we care?’” Megumi’s balding, middle-aged genetics professor conjectured to the class.
He was slowly pacing around the front of the room and clearly expecting someone to raise their hand and answer, but a quick look around proved that no one was planning on taking him up on this obvious request. They all just lazily tracked his movements with their pens poised for note-taking or hands hovering over the keys. Granted, it was only 8 AM, but surely in an auditorium of over one hundred students, someone would take the bait.
Fushiguro Megumi sighed and put down his pen. Unfortunately, he was usually the unlucky victim.
Out of a familiar sense of pity, he raised his hand and Higuruma-sensei immediately pointed at him and said, “Yes! You there! Do you have any thoughts?”
Megumi cleared his throat and responded, “Nothing in nature works perfectly all the time. There’s bound to be some mistakes in the process and while most of them are benign, there’s always that chance of it being harmful.”
“Exactly right!” his professor affirmed, looking relieved that someone actually gave an answer. “But there’s still one problem. We’ve already established that there are repair mechanisms designed to fix those one-in-a-million mistakes. Does anyone else know how genetic errors still occur?”
Wow, now he was really asking for too much. Two questions in the first few minutes of class? Surely he’s learned his lesson by now.
Sadly, as Megumi knew from experience, people like him never really learned. They’ll keep going with that faux enthusiasm, hoping someone in the audience would hear him and actually be excited. Well, there might be a genealogy major somewhere in here, but anyone taking an 8am genetics class is simply trying to get the credit before moving on to more interesting matters.
After a solid minute of painful waiting, a blonde girl in the front raised her hand and mentioned something about point mutations.
Bingo! That was evidently the correct answer because it spun Higuruma sensei back into the lecture.
Most of this information was just a review from last semester’s introductory biology, so Megumi only half paid attention and jotted down notes on autopilot. He kind of felt bad for his professor. The man was clearly interested in Mendelian genetics, but most people in this room were pre-med and just needed the BIO 310 credit to advance into physiology. Megumi needed the genetics credit to start on actual courses relating to veterinary science. He was excited for when he could leave this lecture hall one final time and begin introductory microbiology.
Still, he felt kinda bad whenever Higuruma sensei didn’t receive an answer to his very obvious question. He was trying so hard.
His efforts came in the form of constant open-ended questions, poorly timed jokes, and even excessive amounts of office hours that maybe only one student in the entire class would actually attend. It was kinda sad.
It reminded Megumi of Gojo when he tried teaching high school calculus to a bunch of bewildered teenagers. The comparison immediately squashed any sympathy he had for his professor, but then reminded himself that, unlike Gojo, Higuruma sensei was actually a good teacher.
He just got stuck in an introductory class no one cares about at a horrible time slot.
– M –
Trying or not, genetics was just as boring as ever and before Higuruma sensei even finished his lecture, all one hundred students– including Megumi- began to pack up their things because no one wanted to stay past 9:30 AM. Like a champ, their professor kept on going despite rapidly losing his audience.
But seriously, they all took introductory biology. They all knew how simple inheritance worked.
It was two weeks into the class and Megumi was surprised that pretty much every student still attended class. There were rumors of pop quizzes and participation grades from students who took the class before– thanks Noritoshi-, but so far Higuruma sensei seemed to know where he stood despite his attempts at getting their attention.
Megumi gave the class a month before half of the student body started forgetting to show up to lectures and just start relying on the textbook instead. Of course, he would keep attending, but that’s just because he was used to being an early riser anyway. Not to mention, he was in this class to win , not to merely pass like most of the class was resigned to.
Sliding his notebook back into his bag, he remembered he forgot to eat breakfast and wondered if Itadori or Kugisaki would be free to go to a cafe or something. Kugisaki was usually pretty savvy on new places to go and he didn’t have any other classes on Monday until his 4pm genetics lab.
Just as he was about to pull out his phone and text them, however, Higuruma sensei abruptly stopped his lecture and clapped his hands to get their attention.
“For all of you that are still here,” he said with a pleased expression, looking around at the remaining 20 or so students, “I have my first extra credit assignment if you are interested.”
This immediately piqued Megumi’s interest as he forgot about his phone and pulled out his agenda instead.
Sure, he was good at biology, but if he could get enough extra credit points then maybe he wouldn’t have to worry about studying and could instead focus on chemistry or one of the other more challenging courses. It was pretty cruel to only offer extra credit to those who stayed until 9:30 AM, but maybe Higuruma sensei wasn’t as much of a naive teacher as he pretended to be.
Well played, Higuruma sensei.
Still, everyone was likely just going to spread the word anyways, but then again, who knows. Most of these students were pre-med, so they might have a brutal streak in them. It’s not like Megumi really knew anyone well enough to care if they got the opportunity or not anyways.
“I want you to complete a short health survey and then sort the afflictions in your family according to the corresponding inheritance pattern. I will give two extra points for this, but one extra point if you can calculate the percent risk you are at for the disease,” Higuruma sensei explained. “Complete a short family pedigree on this and have it at my desk by next Friday.”
Immediately, the remaining students began to chatter. Two or three extra credit points may not seem like a lot, but when it comes down to it, that could be the difference between an A and an A-.
It seems Megumi’s prediction was wrong.
Next Wednesday, if the news spreads, he predicts the whole class showing up and listening for the whole hour-thirty block. Though, maybe not, because only one person needs to stick around to hear the news then they can spread the word.
Students were beginning to file out and Megumi scribbled the extra credit assignment into his to-do list before following suit, but Higuruma sensei once again stopped them.
“Not to be that professor or anything, but to make sure only a select few of you complete this assignment, I have a sheet up here-” he waved a blank piece of paper in the air before returning it to his desk- “for you to sign. Only those who sign this sheet will receive credit for this assignment.”
The excited buzz in the air was efficiently killed with that declaration, but still, the remaining students slunk down to the front of the room to sign their names.
Huh. Apparently, the students were more charitable and Higuruma sensei was more brutal than Megumi gave them credit for.
He felt a twinge of respect being to grow for his professor.
Being raised for most of his conscious life by Gojo (or maybe raised was a strong word. More so kept alive… barely), Megumi learned to appreciate teachers that gave no slack because it gave him the ability to gain a slight edge over the rest of the class. He knew how to play this game and he would play it well. Gojo was probably the strictest– and simultaneously most lax- teacher he ever had the displeasure of being in the class with.
If he could survive Gojo being his homeroom teacher, his calculus teacher, and being forced to home with the guy? Higuruma sensei was nothing.
Changing his trajectory, Megumi walked down the stairs of the auditorium to sign the paper and declare his interest in the extra credit. Aside from his signature, there were only eighteen other names scrawled on the page. That gave him an edge over the remaining 81 students and thus almost guaranteed he’d make it under the A range.
Another reason the class was pretty quiet; this was a competitive grading system that operated on a bell curve. That meant only about 10% of the class would get an A and most of the students hadn’t finished their grieving yet. Most got stuck in this particular period because all the other BIO 310 slots filled up, but then again, bell curve grading was pretty common in this school. It was falling out of fashion, but it worked in Megumi’s best interest that it sticks around for just three more years.
He was always a good student, thanks to Gojo for teaching him all the tricks (one of the few useful things he actually taught him), and he was guaranteed admittance into a good veterinary school if this continued.
Megumi was beginning to feel good about this class.
Or at least he was until he remembered one critical handicap that could cost him this entire class. He had no immediate family to survey for this assignment.
“Goddamnit, ” Megumi cursed under his breath as the auditorium doors slammed shut behind him.
– M –
“Okay, so why don’t you just ask Gojo?” Kugisaki drawled in a bored tone after Megumi explained his dilemma.
Megumi, Itadori, and Kugisaki had just sat down for breakfast at this little bakery just off-campus. Itadori was practically lying on the booth table with his head against the glossy laminate surface, his arms hanging in front of him, and his hands resting on the other end of the table. The idiot hadn’t eaten breakfast before going to his track and cross country practice at seven in the morning. So, Megumi hadn’t even needed to ask if they wanted to go out because Kugisaki had already kidnapped him.
Regardless, there were many reasons why Megumi couldn’t just ask Gojo and he thought he said all that in his explanation, but it’s likely she just wasn’t listening.
With a heavy sigh, Megumi prepared to send a rebuttal, but the guy who was manning the front counter was walking toward them with their order. It was surprising seeing him balance three full-to-the-brim mugs, three plates, and a tray of creamer and sugar. He wasn’t even using a silver tray like they do in diners.
“Alright, everyone! I have two black coffees, one hot chocolate, and three servings of pan!” he said cheerfully, not even breaking a sweat despite the slight shake of his hand that was holding all three mugs by the handles.
Megumi was about to reach out and grab the mugs to help, but he beat him to it and placed them on the table.
Megumi and Kugisaki each took a black coffee while the hot chocolate was slid over to Itadori who still looked dead. His eyes were closed and Megumi wasn’t entirely sure if he was awake or not.
“Hey,” Megumi said, bumping Itadori on his shoulder, “wake up. Food’s here.”
“Huh?” Itadori muttered incoherently, a bit of drool landing on the table.
“Is your friend okay?” the barista– his nametag said Takuma- asked in concern.
As if on cue, Itadori opened his eyes, caught sight of the pan that was just inches from his nose, and jolted up before beginning to devour it at an unprecedented speed.
“You're gonna choke,” Kugisaki commented, taking a sip of her coffee.
Itadori suddenly began to cough and put down the pan, frantically reaching for his hot chocolate. The whipped cream on top smeared all over his nose in his haste and he shouted, “Hot!” before almost spilling the mug and eating more pan.
Megumi just sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose in irritation, reaching for the creamer to put in his coffee.
Throughout this whole exchange, Takuma was hovering and wondering if he should help in some way, but now that Itadori had calmed down, he just leaned against the booth and drawled, “Have a rough morning?”
Kugisaki shot him an unnecessarily dirty look, but he didn’t seem to be phased.
“No, he’s just kinda an idiot,” Megumi explained, putting another creamer in his coffee.
Before Takuma could respond, Kugisaki suspiciously remarked, “Don’t people normally get their order themselves?”
There was a clear undertone of, ‘ Why are you bothering us? Go away ’, in her otherwise innocent question.
Megumi sighed and was about to apologize on behalf of Kugisaki’s unnecessary aggression, but once again, the man didn’t seem to care, which only pissed her off more. For some reason, Kugisaki assumed every guy who approached them had some sort of bad intentions and she chose violence every time.
Instead of taking the cue to leave, Takuma took off his beanie to adjust his hair and said, “Yeah, but the rush just ended and I’m bored.”
Kugisaki muttered under her breath, “Well, take your boredom somewhere else.”
Takuma once again either didn’t hear or didn’t get it because he was still hanging around.
Megumi was starting to feel bad for him.
But, he was a bit of a nuisance anyways since Megumi actually had things he needed to discuss with Kugisaki and Itadori– once Itadori remembered to breathe between inhaling his food. He hated confrontation and really didn’t want to be the one to tell his guy to leave, but if he left it to Kugisaki, the man would sustain excessive psychological damage, and Itadori (who was usually their social buffer) was temporarily out of commission.
That left him to do the dirty work.
Thankfully, before he had to say anything, a very annoyed-looking man with blonde hair interrupted them with his arms crossed. He clearly had been baking because the front of his apron was dusted with flour, but that didn’t distract from the very clear, ‘ I’m not mad, just disappointed ’ presence he seemed to have.
Takuma flinched when he noticed him, as did everyone else (even Itadori paused in his freakish eating habits to freeze up).
“Ino, I have been calling your name,” the man said levely, but it was punctuated with a clearly annoyed sigh. “What did I tell you about fraternizing with the customers?”
“Right, sorry, Nanami!” Takuma said a touch too loud and nervously.
The two disappeared from sight and all three of them huffed a sigh of relief.
“Man, I would not want to be on his bad side,” Kugisaki commented with a low whistle.
“Yeah, no kidding,” Itadori chimed in, actually talking for the first time that day. “Like, he doesn’t give me the ‘ I’m gonna kill you ’ vibe that Sukuna does, but he would definitely make me feel bad.”
They all nodded in agreement.
Sukuna, Itadori’s older brother, was terrifying in a much different way than that man– what was his name? Nanami?- was. Megumi was pretty sure Sukuna went to prison at some point, but he wasn’t sure what for. Nanami, on the other hand, had the presence of a very responsible adult who was unafraid to set people straight. Megumi shuddered. Growing up with Gojo, he completely forgot what it was like having a competent adult around.
They barely interacted with Nanami but they all felt as though they dodged a major bullet.
After their collective agreement to never get on the baker’s bad side, Megumi poured a fourth cup of creamer into his coffee while Kugisaki finally started tearing into her pan. She gave him a dirty look but chose to not say anything for once.
Well, back to the matter at hand.
Megumi sighed and said, “Anyways, I can’t ask Gojo because he wouldn’t be able to help anyways. We’re cousins, but we’re so removed that we’re basically not related at all– not that I’m complaining.”
Upon hearing this slander against Gojo, Itadori paused in his onslaught and said, “But Gojo sensei’s cool! I think it’d be awesome to be related to him.”
“Stop calling him ‘sensei’,” Kugisaki scolded while lightly hitting him on the head.
“Yeah, you're giving him way too much credit,” Megumi grumbled.
He took a sip of his coffee and immediately cringed. Four cups of creamer were enough to make the dining hall coffee potable, but it seems this creamer was of a much higher quality. It was basically pure sugar. He put it off the side and began eating his pan instead.
“See? I told you creamer ruins a perfectly good cup of coffee,” Kugisaki said in a smug, sing-song voice.
Megumi rolled his eyes and replied, “We’ve been over this. I don’t judge you for your boring taste and you shouldn’t judge mine.”
“Still, I win. And I’m not boring . I’m refined.”
“I really don’t care.”
They continued eating for a bit, but Itadori had already finished before they even really started. At the rate he inhaled food, Megumi sometimes worried if he was eating enough to home, but knew it was likely just his near-superhuman metabolism. Seriously, this kid has been setting records in track since high school, so it was no surprise he needed to eat more than any normal human being.
Regardless, all in all, asking these two for their advice was a bust. He knew they would just suggest going to Gojo, but there were so many problems with that, that he didn’t even know where to begin.
Of course, asking him would be the obvious answer and the easiest solution, but they hadn’t even talked about his dad a whole lot– let alone their extended family. He knew his dad was in prison for some offense that he really didn’t care about and he knew that the rest of their family was… well, ‘interesting’ would be a generous term. Usually, he would take Gojo’s assessment of anybody with a grain of salt, but since Maki, his more closely related cousin, echoed this sentiment, then he had no choice but to believe it.
Throughout breakfast, Kugisaki and Megumi offered other suggestions between complaining about chemistry or gossiping about Sukuna (a personal favorite for Kugisaki since she loved to hate on him). But every suggestion ended up being about as helpful as the last.
“Why don’t you ask Maki?”
That one didn’t even need a response to dignify it. As soon as Kugisaki said it, she took it back.
Maki’s hatred for her family was so extreme that even mentioning the name “Zen’in” was enough to almost incite the slaughter of some poor nearby bystander. Mai, her twin sister, wasn’t quite as radical, but still, talking to her was near impossible. He wouldn’t get any answers. She would probably just point and laugh at him for being desperate enough to ask her for help.
“Okay, well, why don’t you ask Shoko?”
On the surface level, this seemed like the perfect solution since she had access to public health records and couldn’t care less about HIPAA if you paid her enough. Not to mention, he had personal access to her since she’s both a close friend of Gojo and she’s who he went to for any health concerns. Her practice was shady but cheap and relatively discrete.
Still, this left one huge problem: the fact that she’s a close friend of Gojo and Geto.
He could pay her off to give him confidential information, but when it came to his own information? There wasn’t enough money in the world to keep that gossip under wraps. She and Geto often went out drinking and, while Shoko was far from a lightweight, Geto could drink anyone under the table and be perfectly fine, so they were a horrible match.
Megumi has unfortunately bared witness to a drunk Shoko, and when she was hammered, she talked and she talked a lot . Mostly nonsense, but she also ranted about patients and so many things she legally shouldn’t say. That meant Megumi’s request for familial information would reach Geto’s ears (and, by extension, Gojo’s) and that is exactly what he was trying to avoid.
Kugisaki nodded along to this, understanding immediately why this would be a disaster, but Itadori had too much faith in humanity.
“Why is it such a big deal if Gojo sensei finds out?” Itadori asked while trying to siphon the remaining dregs of his hot chocolate from his mug. “He helped me out all the time in high school! I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”
Megumi sighed and said, “Yeah, but this isn’t a calculus problem. This is personal and it’s a conversation I’d rather never have.” In a lower voice, under his breath, he muttered, “Plus, he’d never let me live it down.”
“Come on, you don’t give him enough credit. Gojo sensei is a cool guy!” Itadori enforced with far too much confidence.
Kugisaki cut in and said, “And you give him way too much credit. Stop calling him sensei.”
“Look, if he found out I went to Shoko for help instead of him, he’d get all mopey about it. Have you ever seen a grown man mope? It’s sad,” Megumi said while they all suppressed a shudder. All three of them had Gojo’s calculus class in high school and when he got into a mood, he tended to make it everyone else’s problem. “So, the way I see it is it’s better to just cut him out entirely. He’ll either be useless or sad and I don’t have the time for it.”
“That’s all well and good,” Kugisaki said with a hum, tapping the table in contemplation. “But is there any other alternative?”
Megumi sighed and rested his chin on his hand which was being propped up on the table. “And there we reach my dilemma.”
They all hummed and didn’t talk for a bit, too busy trying to rub their brain cells together to actually speak. The more he thought, the more he got a sinking feeling in his chest that his only options were to skip on the extra credit (and thus sacrifice his rank in the class) or have a very awkward encounter with Gojo.
Judging by how Kugisaki’s face got sourer and Itadori’s more pinched, he figured they were reaching the same conclusion.
But every cell in his body was firmly against talking to Gojo about this.
“Okay, so what if there's no other option?” Kugisaki prompted. “Personally, I’d just let the extra credit go, but that’s me. I know for you that’s about the same as dropping out altogether, so it doesn’t look like you have a choice. Either talk to Shoko or talk to Gojo.”
Megumi sighed and didn’t respond. That answer was simple enough and, frankly, inevitable. He knew this before even having this conversation. But the fact that he was even considering dropping the assignment and making a plan to make up the extra credit was proof enough that talking to Gojo wasn’t worth it. But maybe he should just bite the bullet? What was he even afraid of?
He didn’t have an answer for himself. It was just the fact that asking the man for help felt like admitting defeat, but, then again, this was just one assignment and he was probably overthinking it. He knew that and yet…
He just couldn’t place it.
Was a bad feeling really worth sacrificing his place in the class? His gut was telling him yes, but his mind was telling him no.
Why couldn’t he ask Gojo one simple question? He visited the man every other week to give an update, but they never really talked about anything. Maybe that was it. Maybe it’s the fact they’ve never had a serious conversation in the almost ten years he’s known him. It just feels weird and like he’s asking for too much.
Yeah, it was just an assignment and Gojo’s helped him with school before, but this one was about their family and it felt like there was this unspoken deal between them. Gojo would provide for him so long as he was worth it and didn’t cause any trouble. ‘Trouble’ included any mentions of family and ‘worth it’ meant excelling in school. He knew this was likely in his head, but he couldn’t escape the nightmarish scenario of Gojo completely dropping his financial support because he went too far and asked for too much.
He could kiss his dreams goodbye if that happened.
Then again, he didn’t think Gojo was a bad person, but nine years was a long time to not talk about family, so there must be a reason. He knew their family was rotten, but never knew and didn’t care to know the full extent of it. The last thing he wanted was to cause trouble for the man that took a chance on him.
So, yeah, this was just a genetics assignment, but the topic was something that must not be touched.
Itadori evidently sensed his conflict because he leaned to the side to put his head on Megumi’s shoulder which was probably meant to be a comforting gesture. Megumi, as a rule, wasn’t super fond of physical contact, but he was used to it and tolerated it around Itadori since he meant well.
Still, Kugisaki rolled her eyes as she took another sip of her, to which Megumi shot her another warning glare.
“Don’t you have any other family you can ask?” Itadori prompted after a moment. “You have a sister, don’t you?”
Kugisaki stiffened up.
Since Megumi and Kugisaki have known each other since early junior high (though they didn’t really become friends until Itadori joined the picture in high school), she was partial to pretty much all of the family drama that he was aware of. Although, given how close she was to Maki, she probably knew more than him at this point in time. Itadori didn’t really know as much beyond the basics– that Megumi’s parents were absent and Gojo was his legal guardian.
But even that knowledge had been hard-pressed to obtain and Megumi only told him to make him feel better when his grandpa died and he had to be taken in by Sukuna.
This being said, he had no control over what Kugisaki told Itadori, but knowing him, he probably refused to listen to any gossip. That’s just the kind of pure idiot that he was. Megumi felt a little bad for keeping so much of his history vague, but the less he knew, the better.
Still, Megumi sighed and said, “Yeah, Tsumiki. But she’s my step-sister, so I can’t use her for the assignment, not to mention she’s studying abroad at the moment.”
“Okay, well can you get in contact with either of your parents?” Itadori prompted innocently, missing the way Megumi stiffened.
“Yuji,” Kugisaki warned.
“No, it’s fine,” he waved off. “My mom’s dead-” Itadori froze in guilt, but Megumi bumped him with his shoulder to say it was fine- “my stepmom’s nowhere to be seen, and well… I can’t exactly talk to my dad.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Itadori said awkwardly.
“Like I said, it’s fine. I didn’t really even know my mom, so it’s no big deal.”
Any normal person would have let this go for fear of awakening any potentially traumatic memories, but Itadori had a habit of running his mouth– something the other two were all too familiar with. Kugisaki looked ready to jump the table and shove a napkin in Itadori’s mouth to shut him up, but none of this was really bothering Megumi anyways. Like he said, all this happened a while ago and he stopped caring. The only reason he didn’t talk about it was that no one asked and he didn’t want to make things awkward.
Spilling his family backstory wasn’t exactly a great conversation starter.
“But your dad’s alive, right?” Itadori tested.
“ Yuji ,” Kugisaki hissed.
But Megumi just nodded and replied, “Yeah, last I checked.”
“Well, why don’t you get in contact with him? It’d only be for a conversation and then Gojo would never have to know-”
“That’s enough, Yuji,” Kugisaki said firmly, cutting him off. “That’s a horrible idea and one that shouldn’t even be entertained.” Itadori looked guilty and put out as he apologized, but it really wasn’t his fault. It’s not like he knew Megumi’s father was worthless. But then Kugisaki turned to Megumi and he felt himself get nervous all of a sudden. “Megumi, you have only three options: talk to Gojo, talk to Shoko, or forget about the assignment. That is final.”
“Yeah. Thanks, mom,” Megumi huffed while looking to the side.
She scoffed and said, “Don’t call me that. Besides, I wouldn’t have to say any of this if you weren’t stupid and were going to get yourself into trouble.”
He really didn’t feel good about any of those options, but the prospect of meeting with his dad again was interesting. It wasn’t a good feeling… but it was better than the all-out dread or guilt of his other three options. This being said, Kugisaki should give him more credit because he’s not that stupid. Like he said before, there was probably a reason Gojo never talked about Fushiguro Toji.
Megumi wasn’t sure what he was going to do, but he knew Kugisaki wouldn’t be satisfied with him just saying he wouldn’t do the assignment because they all knew that was a lie.
So, instead, he just said, “Yeah, yeah, I’ll talk to Gojo later this week. Anyways, when is your next class?”
And with that, the conversation switched from Megumi’s family to their classes and the impending start-of-term exams coming up. Neither of them had classes until later, so they refilled their drinks (and Itadori got more food), and did their best to study for the next couple of hours.
– M –
There were very few things Megumi remembered about his father and he generally considered this a good thing. Any positive recollection he may have had was swallowed up by images of his dad passed out on the couch and the scent of liquor. He knew his dad was into some shady things, thus him being in prison, but he didn’t know what exactly.
It wasn’t even that he wanted to know either. He could live perfectly without ever knowing of his dad’s fate.
But for some reason, Itadori bringing up his father, even in a passing suggestion, was enough to spark a long-dormant curiosity. Besides, it was just practical– or at least that’s what he told himself. He would rather die of cyanide poisoning and suffocate on the cellular level than even risk having a conversation with Gojo about his family and directly speaking with his dad would completely cut out the middle man.
In the back of his head, he could hear Kugisaki warning him and calling him an idiot.
He wasn’t going to deny it. He knew this was stupid but just couldn’t put the idea away. In his defense, he did talk with Gojo, but as soon as he even thought of bringing up the assignment, his throat closed up and he instead reported his latest chemistry exam results.
So, even if he wanted to talk to Gojo, he physically couldn’t and it was out of his hands.
Megumi sighed heavily. He knew he was being stupid.
“Hey, Fushiguro?” a concerned Miwa chirped in his ear. He almost forgot he was on the phone when he got sucked into his reverie. “Are you alright?”
He cleared his throat and said, “Yeah, sorry, Miwa. I must’ve spaced out for a minute.”
“Yeah, it’s fine. Are you okay though? You seem distracted.”
Megumi couldn’t deny it. He was distracted and felt incredibly guilty for having to ask Miwa for help, but she was the only pre-law student he knew aside from Mai and his safest contact to avoid Gojo. He didn’t think Miwa even knew Gojo. Good for her.
He just hummed in agreement to signal he actually was okay.
“Alright, that’s good,” Miwa said, though she didn’t sound all that convinced. “Is there something you wanted to talk to me about?”
“Oh! Yeah, sorry!” Megumi said with a jolt. The guilt got deeper as he realized that now he was just wasting her time. He called her, was silent for a solid few moments, then didn’t even address why he was calling. Regardless, he sighed and asked, “Do you know how to get ahold of inmate records? Like which prison a certain person is in or something?”
Miwa sighed.
“Technically, but that’s sensitive information and not easy to get. Why do you ask?” She sounded uncomfortable with this question and increasingly suspicious.
Yeah, this was what he wanted to avoid.
Megumi pinched the bridge of his nose and breathed out heavily. He hoped that Miwa would use some discretion, but he also knew that she would want a good reason for probably breaking some privacy law out there.
Though he didn’t know Miwa that well (only really met her by chance once or twice), he could tell that she was generally a good person and probably wasn’t assuming any bad intentions. But still, given the nature of this request and him asking out of the blue, anyone would find it suspicious. He also knew that she was smart though and could find him the information he needed if she tried.
But he felt bad for taking advantage of her like this. Especially since she doesn’t appear to be the Shoko-type of person where she could be swayed to look the other way.
Saying the request was for an assignment wasn’t a lie, but it also wasn’t the whole truth and might open up more questions he didn’t want to answer (such as why a biology major needed inmate records). Saying he was looking for his dad would definitely convince her to help, but it felt wrong to manipulate her emotions like that. After all, who would say no to that? Again, it wasn’t a lie but it wasn’t the whole truth either.
So, he sighed and chose a middle ground.
“A friend of mine wants to find out where his brother is. It’s nothing serious, but I promised to help him out,” he said, the complete lie feeling bitter on his tongue. Hastily, he added, “But if you can’t help, then it’s no problem. You're just the first person I thought of that might know something.”
Why did the middle ground end up digging him into an even deeper hole? He should have just told the truth, or better yet, not involved Miwa, to begin with. What if he got her into trouble?
No, if that happened, then he’d just deal with it.
Something in him was still telling him this stupid idea of finding his dad was necessary.
Miwa sighed and said, “Well, I can’t disclose names and locations of inmates for security reasons, not that I even have access to the records yet.” Megumi deflated a bit but tried to not feel too disappointed. He wasn’t really expecting a solid lead anyways. “But-” he perked back up a bit- “a close family member could send an official inquiry to the Ministry of Justice. You’d probably have better luck there.”
He felt very silly for how excitement sprang to life in his chest. Of course! The Ministry of Justice should have been his first place to go.
Why was he getting so excited over this? This was just for an assignment to get his family records straight and nothing more. Not to mention avoiding having a very uncomfortable conversation with Gojo or anyone else connected to his family. He could live and die peacefully without ever meeting his dad again. This was purely business.
Or at least that’s what he was telling himself. Deep down, he knew that he was just setting himself up for disappointment.
“Thank you, Miwa. I’ll let him know,” Megumi said gratefully, trying to not let his nervous excitement bleed into his voice. “I definitely owe you, so if you ever need anything, let me know.”
She just laughed a bit and replied, “Don’t worry about it, Fushiguro. As your upperclassman, it’s my job to help you out. I wish your friend luck.”
“Yeah, thanks,” Megumi said.
They said goodbye and the phone line went dead.
He knew Miwa was probably too nice to accept his offer of returning the favor, but he’d just get her a coffee or something sometime. Maybe bring her something from that bakery this morning. It was surprisingly good.
Anyways, he made a mental note of it and put the whole thing to rest. He was glad that Miwa didn’t have to get unnecessarily involved and potentially get into trouble on his behalf. Especially for a lie. He still felt guilty about not telling the full truth, but he really didn’t want the whole world to know about his family's struggles.
He was still very wary of having anything potentially linked to Gojo and he didn’t know how any of this worked. His fingers tapped absentmindedly on the keys of his laptop as he considered what to write to the Ministry. Would Gojo somehow be notified of his inquiry? It wouldn’t be the most outlandish thing considering how Gojo was his legal guardian, but then again, he was a legal adult now regardless of his financial dependence.
No, he just had to do it. If he didn’t send the inquiry now then he might never, but then again, that might be the better idea. Despite himself, he put his fears aside and sent the email, making it as simple and professional as possible.
He’d never contacted the government before, so he didn’t know what to expect.
Megumi sighed as he closed the lid of his laptop, preparing to walk out of the library to head to his dorm since it was getting pretty late and he promised Itadori and Kugisaki he’d meet them early for breakfast tomorrow morning. They were meeting at the bakery at the absurd hour of five am, just as it opened, to make sure Itadori ate before going to his morning track practice.
Hopefully, the Ministry will get back to him before next Friday. It was already Thursday, so if they didn’t get back by Monday, he’d have to figure something else out.
Once again, he knew full well how stupid this idea was and was only slightly frustrated at himself for actually following through. Maybe Itadori was rubbing off on him more than he initially bargained for.
– M –
It was 2:00 PM on Saturday night when he got an email back from the Ministry requesting verification of identity. Despite being at his part-time job at the time, Megumi excused himself immediately to call and provide the needed confirmation.
He only got a slight reprimand for leaving the front counter with only one attendee, but he was fine otherwise. His manager was significantly less pleased when he asked to leave his shift early for ‘personal reasons’. Megumi normally wouldn’t be so irresponsible, but he was also losing sleep over this whole debacle and he really wanted to just get this over with.
The prison was only an hour subway ride away and if hurried he could go today and have plenty of time to finish his assignment by Friday.
He pretended this was still only about the extra credit.
So, here he was, at 4:35 PM, standing before the entrance to a prison in northwest Tokyo and the reality of it was slowly sinking in. Yes, he was aware that this idea was stupid. Yes, he should have never even entertained it. He knew all of this, but the nervous claws sinking into his gut made the true idiocy of this maneuver obvious. He felt like he was going to be sick, but there was this nervous itch under his skin that urged him onward.
The detention center towered out above him, the concrete harshly reflecting the sun’s rays and beaming down on him like the light from an interrogation desk. It seemed to demand why he was here, grilling him for answers and picking apart the lies and half-truths to get to the center of the subject.
On the other side of this barbed wire entrance was his father… a man he hadn’t seen in almost a decade.
“Shit, this is really stupid,” Megumi muttered under his breath as he tightened his satchel around his shoulder and plowed onward to get checked in.
Stupid or not, he wasn’t about to quit.
The guards weren’t too thrilled about him suddenly appearing and requesting to see an inmate without any prior notice. However, after a lengthy background check and questioning process, it was determined that Megumi was , in fact, who he claimed to be and not some random thug on the streets. He also got to cut a couple corners since he was apparently listed as a registered contact for Fushiguro Toji.
That being said, the process still took three hours and he was exhausted. There were still many opportunities for him to turn back and it seemed like the guards were secretly hoping he would give up, but for reasons that were beyond them (and him), he stayed.
“Alright, it shouldn’t be much longer,” Takeda (the staff assigned to his particular case) said as he sat adjacent to Megumi.
He jumped slightly as the metal pieces of Takeda’s uniform clanked against the plastic chair. The man gave him a sympathetic smile and apologized. Megumi averted his eyes and instead stared at the concrete brick wall behind him.
The other two guards should be back soon with his father in tow, then this whole day can be over with and all will be back to normal.
“There’s no reason to be nervous, you know?” Takeda commented, blatantly ignoring Megumi’s clear wish to sit in silence.
Megumi just hummed and nodded.
Maybe if he showed complete passive disinterest, then he would take the hint and leave him alone.
It wasn’t that Takeda was a particularly annoying person or that he had anything better to do than sit at the desk and twiddle his thumbs, but he really just didn’t want to talk to anyone that wasn’t his father. It didn’t help that Takeda’s naturally windswept black hair (although graying on the sides and flattened by his uniform’s cap) and green eyes (though they were a bit more hazel) reminded Megumi a bit too much of his father. If the situation was different, he could’ve easily passed as a relative or maybe even Megumi’s uncle.
Part of him wanted to ask if Takeda had any Zen’in blood in him, but that line of questioning was probably in poor taste.
But it wasn’t just the physical resemblance that made Megumi want to avert his eyes. On its own, black hair and green eyes weren’t uncommon and it wasn’t like the Zen’in clan was small by any means, but it was his mannerisms that really set him apart. Takeda was kind and sympathetic while all the other guards and staff looked beyond exhausted and didn’t spare Megumi so much as a glance when they didn’t have to. Again, this wasn’t all that strange on its own, but there was something about it.
Maybe it was the fact that a stranger with his father’s likeness was warmer and more approachable than Fushiguro Toji had been in all his life.
He wondered if Takeda had any kids. He would probably make a good father (but then again, Megumi wasn’t a particularly good judge of that).
So, Megumi averted his eyes and silently waited for his father to walk through those locked steel doors.
It would be almost a decade since he’s seen him.
He wondered if he would look any different. Of course, he would be wearing a brown uniform and his hair would probably be shaved down to his scalp, but would he have wrinkles? Would he have patches in his hair where he was starting to go bald? He shouldn't be that old, maybe 45 at the oldest, but maybe Zen’in men age quickly?
There was so much he didn’t know about his father, who could serve as a window to what he would look like at that age (hopefully excluding the cropped hair and prison attire).
His notebook weighed like an anchor in his satchel, grounding him to the reality of why he was here. He wasn’t here to say hi and he wouldn’t be here under any other circumstances. He wasn’t curious about his father and he most certainly didn’t care about him. This was for a school assignment.
And it was seeming more idiotic by the second why he couldn’t just ask Gojo. Kugisaki was right about this, but she wasn’t going to know about this visit. No one except him, the guards, and his father would know that he had ever been here.
He took a deep breath and steadied his leg, which had started to twitch in impatience.
The ticking of the clock echoed throughout the small room, clanging around in his head with every strike. Did it usually take this long? He glanced at the clock and it was just past 8pm.
He had been here for almost four hours.
What a colossal waste of time.
Takeda leaned forward and opened his mouth like he wanted to say something, but the stuttering attempt to crack Megumi’s indifference was cut short by the sound of the steel doors unlocking. Megumi breathed out heavily through his nose and closed his eyes. In just a moment, his father would walk through those doors and… well, what was he expecting, really?
A new reality to open up because his dad acknowledged him? A piece of his life finally fitting into place because he heard his dad’s voice? Years of a childhood he didn’t get to have would suddenly manifest?
No, Megumi thought, the rejection scraping against his skull as a berate for trying to make some meaning out of this. He was for the assignment and nothing more.
He told himself years ago he didn’t care about his old man and that wasn’t about to change.
But despite clinging to the cold logic of the situation, he couldn’t quite quell the reawakened pang in his heart that begged for something like a father. A father he never had. A father that died along with his mother, way before he got the chance to get to know either of them. The only thing Megumi really remembered about his father was his absence. The only sign they occupied the same space was empty liquor bottles and cold take-out containers left to rot in the fridge.
So, no. He had no emotional attachment to Fushiguro Toji and hearing his voice again won’t stir anything inside his chest. He was here for an assignment and nothing more. Megumi had long since stopped chasing ghosts, after all.
After what felt like a millennium, the heavy steel doors creaked open.
“Fushiguro Megumi?” one of the guards said in a low drawl.
With a deep breath, Megumi reopened his eyes, straightened his posture, and turned his head. Right behind him, flanked by two guards and clad in an unflattering uniform, would be his father. In the split second between the guard calling his name and him turning his head, thousands of indistinguishable thoughts raced through his head. He wondered what his father’s reaction would be to seeing him again. Would it be tearful? Would there be regret? Disdain? Love? Or would there just be indifference?
But there was no one there.
Just two guards with a sorry expression, looking a bit red in the face. He wondered for a brief second where his father was until-
“Oh,” Megumi breathed, squeezing his fists under the desk table.
– M –
The subway was unusually quiet for 9pm on a weekend. The flickering orange lights washed over Megumi’s blank expression in about two-second intervals as the train passed by them. He jostled in the plastic seat in time with the jolts of the track. His feet and back were aching in pain along with his neck, but he couldn’t care less.
He just sat there and stared at the floor, pitched forward with his elbows resting on his knees. His entire expression was neutral save for the exhaustion hanging in his eyes and the downward quirk of one corner of his lips.
He waited four and a half hours. His notebook was still blank. He didn’t get any answers.
Fushiguro Toji didn’t show up.
And it wasn’t fair and it was stupid and it was also entirely Megumi’s fault. There was this silent understanding between them where neither contacted each other nor attempted to… or rather, this was never spoken, but was implied in the fine print when Toji failed to come home about ten years ago. There wasn’t a call, no tearful apologies over the crackle of a pay phone, just a worldless exit from the left stage and a weird white-haired understudy in his place.
Megumi sucked the disappointment deep into his chest and exhaled it in a single breath.
Again, this really should have been expected. He couldn’t imagine how his father would react to seeing him again and that was because there would be no reaction at all.
“Sorry, kid, but Fushiguro insists he doesn’t know anyone by your name.”
The guard had said that with a latent, “Fushiguro Toji doesn’t have a son” , to be read between the lines. So, there it was. Toji wasn’t his father and Megumi wasn’t his son.
He knew all of this, but to have it proven was the final nail in a coffin he thought was already dead and buried.
“This was so stupid,” Megumi muttered, leaning back against the chair and pinching the bridge of his nose.
A twinge of sadness and rejection twisted at his stomach, but he swallowed it back. This was too old of a wound for it to start bleeding again and, like he said before, he didn’t care anymore. Some voice that sounded an awful lot like Tsumiki whispered, “liar” , but he ignored it.
So, here he was, back at square one with an empty notebook and nothing to turn in for his assignment.
He was still pretending this was just about the assignment.
The options left were to swallow his pride and talk to Gojo or to talk to Shoko and deal with Gojo moping about it. Or he could just forget about the assignment, but Kugisaki was right and it’s also way too late for that.
His musings were interrupted by the intercom crackling overhead to a lonely train cart of one.
“ Next station is Shinjuku. Change for the Keio Line.”
Another horrible idea entered his mind that he was half tempted to enact just to complete the day he was having. Technically, he didn’t get off until Yotsuya to transfer to the Namboku line, which was about three stops away. But Gojo’s house was just out of Shinjuku. He could get off at the next stop, ignore any uncomfortable questions, fill his notebook with interview answers, and find some way to call it a victory.
Why not? It’s not like today could get any worse.
He was about to stand to prepare to leave, but then his phone rang. He was half tempted to ignore it because he really didn’t want to talk to anyone right now, but was curious in all his reckless abandon. He dug his phone out of his front pocket and saw that “Itadori Yuji” was calling him.
Despite feeling dead on his feet, he pressed the green button and raised it to his ear.
“Megumi!” Itadori needlessly shouted on the other side.
Megumi sighed and replied, “Hey, Itadori.”
As usual, he ignored the clear exhaustion in Megumi’s voice and plowed forth with more than enough energy for both of them.
“Are you anywhere near campus? Aoi was coming over for a binge-watching session and we wanted to invite you, but you weren’t at your dorm.” Megumi swore he heard Todo shout, “Don’t take no for an answer” in the background.
These invites weren’t uncommon and usually, he ignored them. Not because he had anything better to do, but because anything including Todo usually turned either loud, violent, or both. He wasn’t sure how a show marathon could turn violent, but Todo always found a way. Not to mention, Todo liked to take it upon himself to “fix Megumi’s antisocial habits” and his favorite method of doing this was by ruthlessly ripping apart his life choices.
But today he had nothing to lose and really didn’t want to see Gojo now or in the next millennium. So, he responded, “Yeah, I’ll be there. I’ll be back in 20 minutes.”
Itadori’s loud celebrations were cut off by Todo stealing the phone and saying, “Why were you out?”
There was a silent but implied threat of, ‘There is only one right answer’, but as always, only Todo had the answer key and there wasn’t a Quizlet online that held a cheatsheet. Oh well. Maybe getting beaten up is an apt punishment for what he did today. Maybe he’ll get a concussion and that’ll turn his brain off and back on, thus fixing all his problems.
“No reason in particular,” Megumi replied vaguely.
“You better not be doing drugs, Fushiguro, or I swear I will-” Todo’s sudden angry rant was cut off by Itadori taking back the phone (after lightly scolding Todo) and saying, “No rush, man. Just go to my dorm when you’re back and I’ll leave the door unlocked.”
“Yeah, thanks,” Megumi said before the line was cut, presumably before Todo could steal the phone again.
He sighed and sat back down just as the subway jolted to a stop at what he assumed was Shinjuku. Maybe today wouldn’t be at a total loss and maybe he could just go see Shoko tomorrow since he was physically unable to speak to Gojo about this assignment. Maybe he should have done that all along.
Kugisaki was right. Then again, he was never under the assumption that he was right in the first place. He just willfully chose to ignore his intuition at every turn.
No one was going to know what he did today.
If Itadori found out, he would probably blame himself for putting the idea in his head. If Kugisaki found out, she would never let him hear the end of it. Gojo would spark a whole discussion, Geto would sympathize, and Shojo would laugh. But beyond any of those reactions, what he would hate the most is the pity. They would be well-meaning, but Megumi was a willful idiot and would rather choke on regret than swallow his pride.
So, Megumi never told anyone. He did his best to enjoy a marathon with Itadori and Todo, completed his assignment by asking Shoko for help (of whom didn’t seem to spill to Geto because Gojo never mentioned it), and did his best to try and forget the prison visit ever happened.
What he couldn’t erase, however, was this sinking feeling in his gut that made him even more sullen and quiet than usual.
Thankfully, he had friends that were there for him and didn’t push him to reveal anything he didn’t want to. Kugisaki cast him suspicious and concerned glances but did nothing other than try to distract him with study sessions and mindless gossip. Itadori noticed his distance and responded by holding him even closer, refusing to let him spend any spare time alone (even when he really wanted to). Even Gojo seemed to notice but knew better than to try and talk to him about it. Instead, he made Tsumiki check on him more often, then undoubtedly report back to him.
Megumi was annoyed by their beating around the bush but was secretly touched by their efforts. He was starting to finally let go of his dad (something he thought he did years ago). He wouldn’t admit it, but it was only because of the people in his life that he could finally let that man go.
Written on a sticky note was, “ May Fushiguro Toji rest in peace ”.
It was burned over a trash can just outside of the university’s boundaries at night with nothing but the stars and the moon as witnesses. Megumi walked away, the lighter clutched in his hand, with a tension he forgot he was holding, finally easing away and relaxing.