Chapter Text
1.
Satoru can’t quite tell if this is one of his awe-inspiring strokes of genius or a miserably awful idea born guilt and twisted curiosity, but he knows that Fushiguro Megumi’s fate -- and potentially the fate of the entire jujutsu world -- is decided the day he lays eyes on the little elementary schooler for the first time.
(later, much later, he’ll realize his fate had been decided as well)
The kid, utterly bemused and spiky in every way imaginable, immediately becomes the center of Satoru’s focus (obsession, Shoko sighs bemusedly) from that meeting on. Barbed words, narrowed eyes, a well of biting mistrust and simmering anger become his new pet project along with his other machinations, and Satoru doesn’t remember the last time he’s felt so sure about something, so grounded to the present with a direction to follow. His cloudy vision of a new future, unknowable even with his Six Eyes, starts to coalesce into a tangible image, a reachable goal, and the glowing embers of his desire catch fire once more. His enlightening fight with the late Fushiguro and his mastery of his clan techniques are part of it, becoming nigh invincible has made it achievable, the yawning distance between him and his best friend and other half make it necessary, but he knows it’s mostly thanks to this tiny boy with cursed blood and shadows in his eyes, in his hands.
It’s like taming a calm but feral cat, he muses, trying and failing once again to get the Zen’in kid to talk to him for more than a minute before the boy takes off, increasingly annoyed and suspicious with each meeting.
“Why do you keep following me?”
“Aw, it’s been a week! Didn’t you miss me Megumi-chan~?”
“No, you weirdo. Don’t you have a job? Are you useless? Is that why you’re stalking a kid?”
“Ah! Your words! Daggers to my heart!”
“Whatever old man, leave me alone.”
“Oi, oi, oi my hair is genetic! Genetic!”
Then again, Satoru supposes it doesn’t help that he makes a “creepy face” everytime he sees the kid, but he can’t help himself.
The idea of recruiting a future sorcerer with such raw power and potential is just so exciting, and he can’t wait to see how the boy grows with his training and guidance. More than a weapon, an ally. Snatching him from the Zen’in Clan is a bonus that delights him to no end, and riling the kid up for his entertaining reactions is just icing on the cake.
Of course, the higher ups don’t necessarily make his decision any easier to carry out -- “You can’t be serious. You are not yet a man yourself, and you want to take these two under your care? A spawn of the Zen’in of all things? Your capriciousness will be your downfall, Gojo Satoru.” The elders usually let him do as he pleases without too much of a fuss, aware of his nature and power and more than happy to turn a blind eye to some of his unconventional ventures as long as they get to pretend they’re in charge, but they raise their objections in a cacophony of weakness and cowardice, so much so that Satoru now has to make an effort to get it through all their thick skulls.
The boy is his now, they’re just late to the program.
I could kill you all right now, he thinks idly after storming a clan meeting consisting of the Zen’in, Kamo, and a few insignificant families that managed to scrounge their way there -- likely with the promise of hefty favors and talented blood. After all, the jujutsu community liked to turn a blind eye to child trafficking when it suited them, and Satoru intends to make use of it, of all of them. He probably kicks up a storm of rumors in the process of tearing into the old men who think themselves too mighty to fall, supposedly wise and untouchable, but he doesn’t care.
They forget who wears infinity like a cloak, who creates ripples and waves as far-reaching as his sight, but he reminds them. He carves it into their minds until there is not a single protest left.
And eventually, he gets what he wants.
The children are placed into a proper home with all the necessities and even a generous weekly allowance for whatever they need in the name of a scholarship in exchange for securing the Zen’in child’s future education and occupation as a jujutsu sorcerer. His soon-to-be student knows the basics, his new lot in life -- a commodity to be sold to powerful families like the clan he hails from, a boy turned weapon in a war against the literal evils of humanity, a brother now solely responsible for his sister’s freedom and happiness -- under Satoru’s jurisdiction from now until...well.
A piece of the puzzle clicks into place, and Satoru wears his satisfaction like a medal.
2.
Hm. They’re getting bolder, Satoru notes dispassionately.
He breathes out, lets his cursed energy uncoil in his veins, and keeps one foot on the unconscious man’s back, absentmindedly keeping infinity between his nice shoes at the blood spreading across the strangers clothes and pooling beneath him. May need to call an ambulance sooner than later if he’s gonna make it, Satoru muses quietly to himself, then decides to just shoot Ijichi a text. This is the seventh one he’s had to deal with since uprooting his new investment closer to the school and the first one to get this close, but he’s known this was a possibility all the while. Though...he expected something a bit cleaner than a few brutes with shitty cursed techniques and crude weapons to come for a small child.
The sharp, acrid scent of fear slowly dissipates with the man finally out cold, but there’s a thrum of anxiety that vibrates in the air, the almost-sour taste of panic soothed slightly by something like awe, like dread, like oh.
He wonders what he must look like to the Zen’in boy, for him to watch him so guardedly, green eyes wide and unblinking even as the rest of him shakes like a leaf. The boy stays upright despite the unsteadiness in his knees, nails scratching the brick wall behind him, and the questions are unspoken but loud in the thick silence between them.
In the end, there’s nothing else to do but go home.
C’mon. Let’s go.
The boy only stumbles once as they start moving. Eventually, as they turn the corner that leads to home, Who was that?
Oh, no one special. Just some people afraid of potential.
Satoru offers a hand as they cross the street, like he’s seen in movies. The boy doesn’t take it.
Are they…
Satoru waits.
Will my step-sister be okay?
Somehow, even considering their first meeting -- “Will she be happy with the Zen’in?” -- that’s not a question he’s expecting.
He doesn’t have to, but he looks down anyway, under his glasses. Watches the cursed energy in the boy spasm in bursts like static on a screen, start and stop as it follows his circulatory system in little jolts; the smudge of black beneath him grows darker, then lighter, then normal, then repeats. He’s never seen the kid be affectionate with his only remaining family, has never heard him talk about her without the “step” suffix firmly distancing them, and yet here they are. He wonders how such a weary, self-aware kid with a father like his turned out like...this. Interesting. How interesting.
He laughs, even though there’s nothing funny to laugh about. No one will touch either of you. I’m the strongest in the world.
If the words taste acrid in his mouth, no one but him has to know.
The rest of the walk is silent.
The sister fusses when she sees her brother, shoots him a particularly complicated look -- the boy is pale, still faintly trembling even as he stubbornly pushes her hands away, and Satoru thinks he might’ve missed a few steps between here and there, but he can’t do much to fix that now. He can tell by the girl’s rigid back that she’s unhappy, maybe even disappointed.
“Take good care of him!” Satoru says with a cheery wave.
Underneath though, his blood is hot under his skin, blue eyes wide behind his sunglasses.
He doesn’t like his things being touched.
3.
Things are fine. His routine is mostly uninterrupted by his new responsibilities as he continues to carry out missions and exorcise nigh-infallible monsters and scout for new blood. After he sent the last threat back to the clan that paid him in pieces, the attempts on his charge’s life have significantly decreased, and the others stop sniffing around.
Things are fine, fine, fine.
He doesn’t realize he’s maybe in over his head until reliable, responsible, and absolutely furious Utahime Iori comes back to the Tokyo branch of Jujutsu Tech after a mission.
“You have kids now?”
“Oh, Utahime~! Welcome back! I heard your mission went from a Grade 2 to a semi-Grade 1, good to see you in one piece.”
“The children, Gojo.”
“Hmph, maybe not. Anyway, the kids are fine...probably. How did you know about that anyway?”
She bares her teeth at him. “Didn’t get confirmation until just now.”
“Hahaha, I see. Good job! Anyone else know?”
“Of course not, I only found out after I saw Shoko’s computer screen with their files pulled up and your name listed as their guardian of all things.”
An angry huff.
“Do you know anything about raising children?”
“Heh, don’t worry so much Utahime, I can see the stress lines on your face already. They’ve got a roof over their head and money for food and stuff. That covers it, right?”
“You can’t be serious.”
“What else do kids need?”
“Supervision, for starters. Reassurance. Guidance. A reliable adult figure in their life. All of which you are failing quite miserably.”
“...”
“Did you even get a medical check up done on them once they came under your care? Allergies, health conditions, previous injuries, family history? Are they living near their school so they can get there and back without being kidnapped or harassed? Do they have anyone listed as their emergency contact? What are their favorite foods? Their hobbies? What will happen if anyone else finds out that you have two kids- civilians with you? Did you think of any of these things before you selfishly pulled them into this life?”
Hmm. “...you don’t pull your punches, do you?”
“I would like to punch you in the face, but we both know how that’ll turn out. Do better, Gojo.”
So maybe he hadn’t quite thought out his plan to take on the Ten Shadows boy. He’d lost his moral compass, had come back from the dead, had turned twenty with the world on his shoulders, not necessarily in that order. His hands had felt wet with blood when he first laid eyes on Fushiguro Toji’s only son, the words of a dead man ringing in his head for months and months and months - so okay, maybe he hadn’t been in the right state of mind to be making life-changing decisions then. Not for himself or for two children who up til that point had no idea what was happening.
What would you do, Suguru?
He gathers his things, makes some calls, and in the silence of his apartment later that night he hears two words whispered back.
Be gentle.
What’s done is done, the boy and his step-sister are his now, but Satoru has always taken great joy in proving people wrong and obliterating expectations. He can do it this time too.
4.
Sporadic texts and visits become more routine along with the once in a while treat he brings from all corners of Japan, Satoru enlists the help of on-call professionals to get all their medical and dental records up to date, he makes contact with their schools personally to make sure everything is in place, he does everything Google says people new to…sponsorship? guardianship? should do -- “9 Essential Things Adoptive Parents Must Do Before Their Child Turns 13” had been quite informative. He goes the extra mile to make sure no one, not even Utahime in all her self-righteous glory, could complain about his methods or madness, and he hears nothing of his charges from anyone for the next several months.
If either child thinks the change is strange or unwelcome, neither mentions it. If anything, it opens a new door he hadn’t realized was sealed shut since he brought the Ten Shadows boy home that day so many months ago, like his meddling in their lives beyond rehoming them has given them blanket permission to do the same to him.
It starts with small things that he always notices right away but never says anything about. The way the tension in their young shoulders unravels faster and faster as his visits become more consistent, longer, meaningful. The stress that slowly melts from the girl's young face when he babbles about the places he’s traveled to, the discomfort that transforms around the boy from distrust to simple unfamiliarity and then disappears altogether as they share air and space. The fact that the house slippers only he uses are rarely put away because he’s not gone long enough for it to be worth the effort anymore.
Because you’re the only thing they know, you made sure of that, a voice reminds him, acidic and unhelpful.
Small things in nature, but monumental in other ways, and had led to a unique situation in which he’d found himself being bullied into better self-care by this tiny slip of a girl on a day when she’d noticed his fatigue from overusing the Six Eyes on a particularly annoying mission.
“Welcome back, Gojo-san. How have you been?”
“Ah, Tsumiki-chan! Fine, fine. How have you and Megumi been doing?”
“We’ve been well. Would you like to stay for dinner?”
“So kind, Tsumiki-chan~ why can’t your brother be more like you? I’d love to but I’m a bit busy-”
“Have you eaten yet, Gojo-san?”
“Ah, well, no-”
“Please have a seat, dinner will be on the table in a few minutes.”
“I-”
“Could you fetch Megumi? He’s in his room now.”
“Wha-”
“What would you like to drink with dinner?”
Be gentle.
“...water is fine.”
The girl, Satoru finds, is likely part of why her brother doesn’t take any of his shit.
She’s sweet and polite, with old eyes and capable of more housework than any of her classmates. She has a kind smile and greets Satoru each time like he’s a respectable adult and not some weirdo who followed her step-brother home one day and just never left.
Buried below all of that though is a girl who doesn’t mince her words and who is just as angry and hurt as her only remaining family member, who understands that this situation isn’t some philanthropic whim of a rich clan heir or an act of charity from someone with a good heart, but carries on with her life because that’s all she can do. He appreciates that about her; he knows men thrice her age with less than half her sense.
Dinner that night is…a new experience.
He’s shared meals with classmates in the school cafeteria, swiped Yaga’s card to pay for lunches with colleagues from their sister branch in Kyoto, gotten drinks with sorcerer’s across the globe to celebrate or mourn, but he can’t recall many quiet meals around a dinner table in a proper home. The Gojo estate had always been more a museum or monument than a living quarters, a shrine to his birth and heritage, and the properties he has dotting all around Japan have little more than a bed and simple furnishings – and never more than two chairs.
The food is simple, mostly store bought or easily prepared, a few side dishes that are on the sweeter side than is tradition and quite a few more with strong flavors of spice and ginger. The meat is cooked well, the rice is perfect, and despite being far from the most extravagant meal he’s ever indulged in, he doesn’t remember eating anything as delicious.
The girl is polite and demure, eats neatly even as she patiently responds to Satoru’s barrage of inane comments and questions, rambling about his day, the weather, this cool new game that’s come out, how is school going? What’s your favorite subject? Any after school activities? Friends? He knows the answer to most of the questions already, but he finds that he actually wants to hear the answers from them personally. There's some trouble with bullies, with teachers, not quite acting out but not quite fitting in, but he doesn't probe about that and focuses on other subjects. The boy barely speaks but he’s somehow louder than his sister, frowning around his chopsticks when he finds Satoru particularly annoying or probing, rolling his eyes at some of the antics he recounts from school or a less stress-inducing mission. When the Ten Shadows boy does respond, the sentences are short and sometimes terse, but Satoru will wring an honest answer out of him once in a while, so innocent and childish it reminds him of how young his two charges are.
“Dinner was delicious, Tsumiki-chan~!” Satoru sings, grabbing empty dishes before the girl could stand up and do it herself.
She smiles, a pink little tinge to her cheeks because even as independent as she is, she’s as susceptible to praise as any child. “Thank you, Gojo-san. We…” She and her brother share a look before the boy shrugs and she continues bravely, “We got some cake for dessert too, if you’d like to share it with us…”
Satoru doesn’t know what’s making his chest ache like this, like there’s a tiny fist wrapped around his heart, but he agrees nonetheless. Maybe he needs to talk to Shoko about that.
He grins. “I’d like that.”
5.
The Zen’in -- Fushiguro? -- boy is as prickly as ever, keeping a stagnant distance between them no matter how many times Satoru ruffles the boy's hair or pats a hand on his bony shoulder. It changes a bit after that first dinner, much to his delight. He now mouths off at him every visit despite barely reaching his hip, the clipped, poignant silences forever gone with this new dynamic, but Satoru notices another shift between the third and fourth month of their new arrangement -- almost six months to the day after he watched Satoru ruthlessly, effortlessly stake his claim. The unimpressed stare he’s usually greeted with during his near daily check-in is absent, and instead there’s a cautious, hawk-like quality in the way he watches Satoru move through the house.
Satoru grins and settles on the couch. “Is there a reason you’re staring at my beautiful face more than usual?”
That little nose scrunches hilariously in distaste but the kid doesn’t take the bait. “Why do you wear those?”
Satoru tilts his head. “Whatever do you mean, Megumin~?”
This time, a frown. “Those. The glasses, or blindfold sometimes. Why do you wear them? Do your eyes hurt? Even back then...”
Satoru blinks, then hums. Ah. He hasn’t given Toji’s son enough credit. He puts on a guileless smile and decides the truth is better this time -- it has to come out sooner or later. Besides, to get a little trust, he has to give a little too, right? Or something like that. He read it on a social services website once after Mei Mei (only somewhat) jokingly threatened to blackmail him with child protective services. “Sometimes.”
Without missing a beat, “Why?”
“Well,” Satoru draws out, head rolling onto the back of the couch and closing his eyes, “I have this special power where I can see a lot of things really well, but I can’t turn it off and it gives me a headache if I use it too much. So, this helps make my eyes feel better.”
“Why can’t you turn it off?”
This time, he lifts his head and looks at him as he responds with complete sincerity, “Because there are a lot of bad things in the world I need to keep watch of.”
Instead of another “why” like Satoru expects, the boy- Megumi holds his gaze for a long moment, shadows that have nothing to do with his bloodline slinking across his face, and then nods once, like that’s that. “Okay. Tsumiki’s making grilled fish. Don't eat all the pickled ginger again or else.” And off he goes to do whatever kids his age did.
What a grumpy kid, he thinks, and if it sounds fond in his head, it’s not like anyone will know.
The next time he visits while the kids are still at school, he finds a little box neatly wrapped in dark blue paper where he usually keeps his house slippers during long trips. Faint remnants of Megumi’s curse energy still linger, reminding him of deep ocean currents and soft shadows curled below falling leaves, and finds a silky sleep mask with white, cartoon eyelashes stitched on the front.
6.
The first time Satoru thinks he might’ve made a mistake taking in two traumatized children with one having a large, powerful clan wanting to get their claws into him, it’s when he gets a call from Tsumiki while he’s training with a few old schoolmates. He ignores the dour but curious look Utahime sends him as he steps away from the field.
If the kids need to contact him, they have his personal number for emergencies, and they rarely do more than send a few texts a day of random things to let him know they’re still alive or vice versa.
(because sometimes he can’t go to see them, sometimes when he looks at his future ally he sees an old enemy instead)
Now, her name flashes across his phone screen like a warning siren.
“Megumi isn’t home yet. School ended an hour ago and he isn’t picking up his phone, and he’s not at the convenience store down the street or-”
It’s the first time he’s heard this kind of distress, this panic, in her voice since meeting her and his grip tightens around his phone. “I’ll be right there. Don’t leave the house and lock all the doors and windows.”
He barely hears her agree before he’s taking off, heedless of Utahime’s cry of surprise or Nanami’s eagle-eyed gaze and Yaga's unreadable expression in the distance. Instead he breathes, looks inward, and suddenly the entirety of Tokyo is in the palm of his hand. Nothing is hidden from his Six Eyes, blooming with cursed energy and peering through the very fabric of reality, searching through the undergrowth pushing up between cracks of cement, sifting through the millions of heartbeats pulsing in his ears. He finds Megumi through the cacophony of a hundred thousand human souls in an instant, follows the tether, and he’s unaware of how hard his heart is beating until he’s right in front of the boy seconds later with his typical laid-back smile, slipping his glasses on with a flick of the wrist.
“Yo, Megumi! What’ve you been up to?”
The boy blinks up at him with mild surprise. “Ah, Gojo-san. I was just…”
The little pink-haired boy holding his hand grins wide and waves energetically. “Hiya! My name’s Itadori Yuji! Nice ta meet ya!”
Satoru feels something ripple, something shift- the word stops spinning for just a fraction of a second, suspended in infinity -- when he blinks, the entire universe goes dark. He blinks again, present and past and future flickering, changing, warping, reshaping. He breathes, in and out, and the cracks in the sky and in his mind quietly seal shut like they’d never existed.
Megumi tugs on the boy's hand, not to get away but to get his attention, unaware of Satoru’s temporary lapse or critical gaze, and quietly admonishes, “Oi, don’t give your name to random strangers. What if he’s a weirdo?”
Itadori blinks in surprise. “Oh, I thought you knew him.”
Megumi grimaces. “Unfortunately.”
Itadori laughs, bright and warm as a miniature sun. “Then it’s fine! You're nice, so Gojo-san must be nice too, right?”
“That’s not how that kind of thing works…”
Satoru breathes, in and out. He refocuses, letting the moment slip from his thoughts, and instead valiantly resists the urge to coo at the sight of the two little boys gently bickering, one with a barely suppressed smile and the other with a wide grin, their hands still clasped. On his way here, he’d picked up on several other young, roughed up boys at the other side of the park, the broken phone clutched in Itadori’s hand, the scuffs on little Megumi’s knuckles and bruises on both of them, and quietly pieces the story together.
He doesn’t say anything about it and pretends the relief flooding his veins is for Tsumiki’s sake alone.
He claps once and gets their attention. “Itadori-kun, do you live around here? We’ve had a long day, why don’t you come have dinner with us? We’ll celebrate your new friendship!”
Itadori’s eyes go wide and his grin is absolutely contagious because even reticent, prickly little Megumi looks excited at the prospect of inviting his first friend over, like a proper seven-something year old. “Wow, really? Cool, okay! My gramps and I don’t live here, we’re just visiting, but let me go ask him! I’ll be right back!”
The boy takes off with an impressive dust cloud kicking up behind him, and Satoru tracks his movements, the absolute lack of cursed energy, assessing.
“Oi, what are you trying to do?”
Satoru blinks in surprise and finds Megumi’s dark-eyed stare piercing through him, startlingly observant. “What? Me? Nothing, nothing! I thought it would be nice to have your friend come over, is there something wrong with that? Besides, Tsumiki-chan would want to know why you were late coming home today!”
Megumi just continues to stab him with his eyes, flickering with some guilt, but the boy can’t deny he’s happy so he doesn’t push. “Whatever. Just don’t scare him away with your...you.”
Itadori comes back with his suspicious grandpa to the sight of one Gojo Satoru clutching a struggling, hissing Megumi to his chest and weeping about his little blessing hurting his feelings.
He starts to find candies of various flavors crowding the cupboards when he knows neither Fushiguro siblings are fond of sweets, notices copies of second hand Digimon DVDs next to the rarely used TV. He thinks of his little sleep mask in his travel bag, and the protective charm Tsumiki got him at a shrine her class went to on a school trip, and even the stickers plastered all over his phone case with Yuji’s favorite cartoon characters. He wonders just when he started to do more than just occupy this space, how long these children have been carving out a spot just for him. He wonders when he started to do the same.
He doesn’t get to visit them as often as he’d like, with meetings and missions and tracking down his once best friend, but when he does see them-
“Do you know what you’re doing, Gojo-san?”
“Eh? What do you mean?”
Silence.
“Mah~ they’re just two kids, and they’re pretty self-sufficient.”
More silence.
“The girl is responsible, and I’ll probably start training the boy soon. His curse energy’s been getting stronger, and he’s staring at shadows longer and longer each time I see him. Might even summon something on the first try, isn’t that exciting?”
Serious, pensive, mourning Nanami, who has never told anything less than what he believes is the truth, gives him a searching look. “What are you looking to gain from this?”
“You know my goal.”
“I do. But are they really just a means to an end?”
“I don’t think I know what you’re getting at, oh comrade of mine.”
“You’ve said that you won’t involve yourself in trivial matters for the sake of the next generation.”
“That’s still the plan.”
“Is this what you consider ‘uninvolved’?”
“They’re not trivial. I need allies don’t I?”
“The Fushiguro boy, maybe. What of his sister and his new friend?”
“Not everyone needs to use cursed techniques to be an ally. Sure he doesn’t have a lot of curse energy, but his physical capabilities are nothing to sneeze at. I hear the Zen’in clan has a weapons master in the making. Who knows, maybe one day you’ll be Yuji’s teacher!”
Nanamin doesn’t take the bait. “Does allyship require attachment?”
“I don’t know what you mean. The kids aren’t attached and neither am I.”
“...right. Of course.”
-when he does see them, the smile that blooms on his face is real and as easy as breathing.
7.
Tsumiki’s birthday comes around the corner for the second time since he pulled them from everything they knew, and Satoru finds himself at a loss.
Their first birthdays after...well, there hadn’t been much to celebrate for either sibling even with their special days nearly six months apart. Satoru had just been a shadowy figure in their lives, back when Tsumiki’s smile was purely out of brittle politeness and Megumi had been as wary of him as any other adult if not more so.
Now, though, things are different. He wants to make it different.
Itadori Yuji’s birthday had passed by the time he and Megumi became friends, but nonetheless the kid’s been crowing about celebrating Tsumiki’s birthday since finding out the date, and now Satoru starts to consider maybe actually making it special. After all, the Fushiguro siblings rarely seem to celebrate much, but Itadori’s excitement is as infectious as his grin despite living so far away, voice loud as he chatters endlessly while on video call more days than not, and now Satoru is in a bind.
What’s he supposed to get a young elementary school girl whom he’s known for less than two years? One whom he never gave much thought to in the beginning because she was an extra, an add-on, not someone who he thought would remember how he prefers sweet over savory side dishes or insists on converting the extra room into a room for him even though she has no idea that room is more of a home to him than the sterile, quiet Gojo Estate or any of his apartments dotting the globe. She does a good job of essentially becoming a full time caretaker even with the hired help Satoru sends a few times a month, and she’s managed to keep Megumi from acting out too much at school, so a gift is the least he can do.
He thinks of his female colleagues and wonders who would be able to give some advice.
Utahime is still pissed at him for supposedly dragging two innocent kids into the sorcerer world and can’t go five minutes without wanting to claw his perfect eyes out, so she’s a no-go.
Shoko is drowning in schoolwork on top of her sorcerer work, and she’s never been a typical girly-girl anyway with her gloomy disposition and newfound enjoyment of cigarettes.
Mei Mei would charge him an obscene sum for some quality information but he won’t go down that road — though he has no problems with money, it’s still the principle of the thing.
Then he remembers something particularly amusing and thinks it’s finally time to start on Megumi’s unique education.
The Zen’in compound is as beautiful as he remembers from his last visit.
Leading into the summer, the trees are full and bright green with lush, colorful flowers blooming in every corner, contrasting sharply with the severe charcoal-stained wood and white screens housing Megumi’s relatives. Dour, immovable, drenched in cursed energy centuries old, it’s a monument to the history of jujutsu sorcery, a relic of traditions long dead and decaying.
Megumi huffs beside him, curious and trying not to show it, uncomfortable in the dark blue kimono and even darker hakama Satoru’s stuffed him into for this occasion.
Satoru himself is dressed similarly for comfort's sake and doesn’t have to fake the gleeful smile that graces his lips as they’re escorted through the halls of the compound by an attendant. He wants to record the way Megumi’s head swivels like an owl to take in the sights, likely never seeing such traditional or opulent quarters outside of textbooks or the historical dramas Tsumiki enjoys -- he’s particularly drawn to the garden situated in the center of the main building, surrounded on all sides and carefully decorated to be as aesthetically pleasing as possible. Notably, Satoru sees how Megumi’s eyes follow the songbirds that flit from flower to flower or widen in fascination at the frogs that hop through the manmade stream. The kid rarely lets himself show much aside from vague disinterest so he commits the wide-eyed wonder to memory.
Now however, they have an objective, so he pokes the boy's forehead to get his attention.
“Hey!” Megumi huffs, rubbing the new red spot.
“Remember the mission, Megumi-kun!” Satoru chirps.
“Whatever,” Megumi grumbles under his breath. “Still don’t know why I have to be here…”
Satoru grins. “We’re gonna be meeting your relatives, but you’re free to roam around the estate once we do introductions. Then you can find our targets!”
“Is it okay for me to come though? Didn’t they try to buy me?” Megumi asks, blunt and skeptical, and Satoru sees the hitch in the attendant's step.
He almost laughs but covers it with an unconvincing cough. He can’t really talk since he did buy him. “Yes, well, they’re still family. Maybe we can get information on your Ten Shadows technique and get started on your training too, exciting right?” He’s sure Naobito will be more accommodating after Satoru sent back his last hired help with barely any breath left in his lungs over a year ago.
Megumi’s still unconvinced, but there’s a trust there that’s been budding for a while now, slowly growing over the weeks and months of their acquaintanceship, and Satoru finds himself oddly touched when the boy just nods once without a shred of actual doubt. “Right.” His cursed energy settles, seeps into the cracks between wooden floorboards and underbrush surrounding the garden.
They’re led to the main door where the head of the clan is waiting. Satoru hadn’t given them much notice specifically for this reason, and his plan is proven fruitful when he’s greeted with just Zen’in Naobito’s craggy visage.
The room is as dark and sullen as the rest of the compound, just like its clansmen, and Naobito doesn’t even glance at Megumi as they both take a seat on the provided cushions. Servants silently and inconspicuously enter the room with trays, traditional sweets made with very little sugar and tea set artistically in front of them before they’re waved away, and yet through it all little Megumi’s eyes stay fixated on the most obvious threat in the room.
“Gojo Satoru,” Naobito says, voice like gravel, “What brings you here?”
Satoru smiles, and it’s not nice at all. “Well, as you know, I’ve become a guardian of sorts in the last couple of years and I think you may have some valuable resources we could use for his education.”
“And why would I hand over our secrets? Because you are Gojo Satoru and you demand it?” the man rumbles then snorts. “God-like your powers may be, but a god you are not.”
Finally, those deep set eyes decorated with heavy brows turn to his little companion, and Satoru reigns in his unease when he realizes he can’t quite read what the old man is thinking or feeling. Satoru may have dressed Megumi in his clan’s colors for this visit to rub his old nose in his loss, but the slight feels miscalculated now when Naobito doesn’t even bat an eye at the sight of a powerful, potential heir just out of reach, one whom he’d tried to remove on several occasions before finally accepting the fact that Satoru would never not be watching.
“Mm, I’m sure those secrets can be shared at a price. After all, the end result is one that we’d all like to see, right? Another powerful sorcerer to help us in the war against curses,” Satoru says sagely, and even he’s impressed when he doesn’t laugh derisively at his own words. “Besides,” he adds, poison on the tip of his tongue, “it’s not like anyone else in your household will make use of them.”
“A price,” Naobito repeats, finally lifting his gaze from Megumi, and ah- there’s that anger Satoru’s been waiting for, steeped and bitter. “Yes. Let us discuss that price in private.”
“Gladly!” Satoru agrees, dripping with false cheer, and turns to Megumi who hasn’t taken his eyes off the far right corner of the room since entering. “Megumi, why don’t you explore a bit, eh? I think they might have deer and other wild animals roaming in the back.”
Megumi blinks a few times as if pulling himself from a trance and looks up at him, and the trust is still there but something in his gaze wavers. Before Satoru can figure out why, Megumi nods and gets up from his seat and follows another servant out the door, disappearing without a backwards glance.
Neither he nor the old man miss how the darkness recedes from the room as Megumi leaves.
“And to think,” Naobito says after a short silence and taking a sip of his tea, “this is the boy whose father you murdered. Yet he follows you like a hopeless stray.”
The smile doesn’t slip from Satoru’s face even as the air grows heavy, Naobito’s dessert plate cracking neatly in half. “We’re not here to talk about the past. The Zen’in dwell on it enough. Instead, I’d like to talk about Megumi’s future. After all, his success and failure reflect on the Zen’in even if he has a different name.” He sips his tea, wishing he had some extra sugar to sweeten it, and adds, “What do you think Naoya-kun?”
He sees everything, even through the opaque sunglasses, the barrier, and the wall separating them, and easily reads the rigidness of the boy's spine as he darts away from where he was eavesdropping.
Is it still eavesdropping if everyone in the room, including a tiny seven year old, is aware of it?
The old man’s frown deepens, but Satoru can’t tell if it’s from his jab or the fact that he has no control over either heir of his. “Regardless of his name, I agree it would not do to let his powers whither from your negligence.” Then, surprisingly, he chuckles. “However, it seems your Six Eyes needs training as well. You claim to see everything, and yet you can’t even see what’s in front of you.”
The meeting runs longer than anticipated. Satoru is a genius in many ways, but he’s unpracticed in the art of old-timey verbal bullshit which happens to be Naobito’s favorite sport when he’s not busy putting down anyone he thinks is lesser. He’s also had to keep half a mind on Megumi while on the compound. He doesn’t think the Zen’in are stupid enough to try something with him there, with Megumi very obviously under his care, but he can never be too careful, and he had to make sure Megumi completed their little mission.
He finds the boy near the entrance of the compound, a little ways off the stone path watching some dragonflies in the grass.
Honestly, this kid really is too cute sometimes.
He makes sure his footsteps are audible as he approaches. “Yo, Megumi-kun! Was the mission successful?”
The boy doesn’t react, and Satoru eyes the way the shadows around him lengthen and darken despite the heat of the sun overhead.
He crouches down beside the boy, hardly moving a blade of grass, and tucks his chin to his folded arms atop his knees, mirroring Megumi’s pose. “Me~gu~min~!”
The kid abruptly stands and marches away towards the stone steps leading down, and Satoru doesn’t even have to think before he’s landing right in front of the boy. And still, he doesn’t look at him. Satoru is already planning on breaking a few bones if someone exceedingly stupid said something to the kid in his absence, but the thought flies away when Megumi finally mutters something under his breath.
“What?” he blurts, bewildered.
He glances around, not seeing or sensing any living thing close by, but he doesn’t take the chance and whisks them away, landing in a park not too far from Jujutsu Tech. Megumi retreats as soon as he realizes where Satoru had moved them to.
“Megumi, what did you say?” Satoru repeats, more controlled this time.
Be gentle.
“You...you didn’t sell me to them, right?” Megumi asks, green eyes glued to his hands anxiously twisting in his hakama, and Satoru feels struck dumb at the question.
“No,” Satoru breathes, the word punched out of him in a mix of horror and shock that’s too honest, too close to the surface, but he can’t find it in himself to pull it back. “No, I would never- what gave you that idea?”
Megumi’s shoulders hunch, and it all comes out in a frustrated rush, “I don’t know! Why did we even go there then if you’re not gonna give me to them? Why am I dressed like this? Why did we meet the clan head who tried to buy me before? What price were you two talking about for their clan secrets? What did I-” What did I do?
Satoru’s heart cracks at the last question at the same time Megumi’s voice does, and he drops to a crouch again, this time to grip the boy's shoulders in an effort to make him listen and understand. With infinity peeled back, those thin shoulders are warm under his hands. “Megumi, I would never- we came here so you could meet your cousins and ask them what we should get for Tsumiki’s birthday, remember? And get access to information for your Ten Shadows technique. All that other stuff was adult talk that doesn’t really mean anything, and even that had nothing to do with you . Who would-”
“My dad.”
Satoru’s jaw clicks shut, startled by the fierce green eyes meeting his through the black glass of his sunglasses.
He remembers that unyielding gaze the first time they met, the many times after, the eyes of a boy who had spent too many days waiting for a man who would never return. “You’re right,” he concedes, “your dad did. But I’m not him. They could offer all the money in Japan and all the power they hold, and I wouldn’t even consider it.”
The boy’s shoulders slowly lose their tension, no longer hunched up by his ears, and he looks down again as if he can’t really believe it.
“You claim to see everything, and yet you can’t even see what’s in front of you.”
How do I... reaching out and taking off his glasses, he settles a hand on the boy's head. Megumi stiffens again for a split second before relaxing, and he stops toying with his obi. Is this the first time he’s touched the boy? Offered more than a casual poke or push besides the one time he offered his hand after a near execution? Damn, Utahime’s still right after all this time. “Megumi, I promise you, I’ll never let anyone take you. I’ll always be by your side. I’m the strongest person in the world, remember? And I don’t make promises I can’t keep, okay?”
Megumi is silent for a long moment before nodding once. “Okay,” he says quietly, finally looking up and meeting his gaze, and he must sense his sincerity because the tiny smile he offers looks relieved, almost happy -- it punches Satoru in the chest again, but in a good way this time.
And Satoru is helpless against the grin that spreads across his face as well, ruffling the boy's hair and laughing at the squawk he gets. “You can’t get rid of me so easily, Megumi-kun~!”
There’s no quick fix for an issue that’s been there for years, but Satoru thinks it’s a start.
Not bad, Suguru murmurs in the back of his mind.
They leave behind the Zen’in compound without a glance back and Megumi chatters to him about meeting his two distant cousins. He’s more lively now, doesn’t even protest when Satoru offers a hand when they cross the street into a busy district, and talks about how cool and scary Maki-senpai is --
“Why senpai already?”
“Well, she’s gonna be my senior when we go to Jujutsu Tech, right?”
-- and how much of a crybaby Mai-senpai is despite her scary good aim --
“Did she show you her technique?”
“No, Mai-senpai just hates bugs and threw a rock at a spider from 20 meters away to kill it.”
“I see…”
-- and how the creepy snake-looking kid wouldn’t stop stalking them until Megumi’s shadow tripped him into the stream and all three of them ran for it –
“Megumi, you are a treasure.”
“Don’t say weird stuff like that.”
They pick a few things that Maki and Mai suggested -- weapons (they did not get weapons), a couple hair pieces (a variety of twenty clips, ties, and berets are a “couple” right?), and new trendy stationary (the useful suggestion of a younger attendant who’d been watching over the three from afar) -- as well as some ingredients for their surprise.
Later that night, Tsumiki comes home from a friend's house to tiny confetti cannons and Satoru, Megumi, and a visiting-Yuji covered in whipped cream from baking her a tiramisu cake.
The joy that blooms on her face is something he’s never seen before.
Satoru’s rarely celebrated birthdays, but he can definitely see this becoming a tradition.
8.
Satoru’s life before... before had been filled with days of Suguru, missions, and training.
Satoru’s life after shifted to accommodate two cursed children and an ache in his chest.
Satoru’s life now consists of near-daily visits to his two charges and their pink-haired addition.
Itadori Yuji is the kind of kid who draws people into his circle without trying, a sun that pulls others into his orbit with his bright smiles and open heart, and even Satoru feels that warmth when he comes to visit and sees Tsumiki scolding Megumi for getting into another fight and scolding Yuji for joining on to help Megumi. He feels that warmth when Yuji’s puppy dog eyes soften Tsumiki’s harsh frown and soothes the tenseness in Megumi’s shoulders. He feels that warmth when Yuji shouts excitedly at the sight of him, when his joy rubs off on the two siblings and they greet him with open relief and quiet happiness as well.
The dining room is fuller these days, with four chairs -- sometimes five if Itadori’s grandfather isn’t busy with business in the city -- crammed around the small dining room table, the house loud with overlapping voices and teasing and laughter.
These are days he wishes Suguru was here to see.
9.
Am I doomed with unlucky children? Satoru muses quietly as he destroys the curse skulking in Itadori’s neighborhood, a long way away from Tokyo. Maybe the children are only unlucky because of him.
It’s too late. He’s too late.
Itadori Wasuke passes away hours after the curse is cleansed with only Yuji and Satoru by his bedside.
The wake is a quiet affair.
Itadori Wasuke had been a hard man with a hard life, with no other living family and only two last requests.
A small, quick funeral ending with a cremation, and for Yuji to live his life in a way that he would die surrounded by loved ones.
Satoru knows every word that passed between grandfather and grandson in the man’s last moments, pretends he has no idea why Yuji’s tears don’t dry until he has Megumi’s hand in his own, and makes sure that Yuji has a chance to say goodbye one last time while knowing he has Megumi, Tsumiki, and Satoru waiting for him.
Aside from quietly adding another futon to Megumi’s room, not much changes in their everyday lives until one week later, he sits all three children down and explains what’s been unsaid for a long time.
Curses, sorcerers, clans.
Power, techniques, order.
A vision of the future, a new system, a restructuring of a thousand year old institution from the ground up.
Megumi’s shrewd gaze never leaves him, and a chill runs down his spine because those intelligent green eyes and round face somehow look exactly like the man he murdered, and a tiny, ridiculous part of him thinks he knows he knows he knows-
He keeps the lesson as simple as possible because his audience consists of three orphans in various stages of grief and exposure to this world. There’s too much to unpack in one night, centuries of history and blood and tradition they need to learn and unlearn before he can really start to mold them, but he thinks it’s a relative success when at the end all they do is say “I understand” and puppy pile under a big blanket under the living room in front of the TV.
If his chest tightens when Yuji lifts a corner of the blanket in quiet invitation, the dark, peering eyes of both Fushiguro’s watching expectantly, he tucks it next to I’m a murderer, I’m a monster and joins them.
As he expects, demands to begin training follow not long after.
Surprisingly, Megumi is the one to hold his questions and instead stews in pensive silence, preferring to focus on the foundations of his clan technique Satoru lays out for him. They have a few resources Satoru managed to wheedle out of Naobito so they’re not starting completely from scratch. He’s not much help beyond that, to be honest, because the Zen’in are as secretive as they are proud, but Megumi is intelligent and stubborn and Satoru leaves him to it with full confidence the kid will work miracles.
Tsumiki asks the reasonable, sensible questions he would expect from someone far older and wiser -- laws and rules of jujutsu hierarchy, their roles in this world of curses, the danger they're in and the best ways to protect themselves or avoid it altogether. She also wants to learn a few things, self-defense to protect herself and special codes to better communicate emergencies if another arises, but she largely stays out of it and focuses on her studies. Shrewd, cautious, capable. Satoru has never regretted taking her with Megumi that day.
Yuji, the only one of the three to witness a curse in action and the newest to the jujutsu world, is most vocal about becoming a sorcerer. He’s unnaturally strong and athletic, suspiciously so, and even his weak curse energy will only be a small roadblock for him. It’s a small amount, sure, but not impossible, and the curse energy there is malleable in all the ways that will make Yuji an absolute menace as a close combat fighter even without an inherited curse technique, and Satoru quietly despairs because Yuji will be the first to break.
They’ll all break eventually, Suguru reminds him gently.
Satoru has a few other budding allies he needs to watch over, another child whose curse energy rivals his even with a ten year age gap, revisits another young Zen’in making waves with her determination, and the nebulous future shifts once more, solidifying around the edges. He still has missions he needs to take that pull him to every corner of Japan, sometimes even farther, but somehow his schedule is always clear for at least a dinner every few days at the Fushiguro-Itadori household and he begins to see the treats and trinkets he brings home clutter Yuji’s bed, Tsumiki’s bookshelves, even a small corner of Megumi’s room. He thinks about how he spends more time in that home than in any of his apartments put together, and how a day doesn’t go by that he doesn’t in some way, shape, or form think about them.
He thinks he’s having a minor stroke at the revelation, and Shoko just looks at him with pity when he brings it up.
A year passes by with no terribly new surprises.
There’s training, and more birthday parties, and more irritating comments about his guardianship capabilities by his nosey, nosey coworkers who all somehow get roped into being a part of the three kids' lives.
A year, and Yuji becomes a prolific little chef and takes over most of the kitchen duties, much to Tsumiki’s relief, and is just as likely to join Megumi in a fight as he is to drag him away, much to Tsumiki’s despair. A year, and Tsumiki slowly comes into her own, climbing the academic ladder and making a name for herself in the community for her budding brilliance and burgeoning eadership skills while at home she wrangles her adoptive-in-different-ways family into spending time together outside of training. A year, and then Megumi summons his first shadow companions – two Divine Dogs who take to their new master without a heartbeat of hesitation, and Satoru wants to brand the absolute joy in Megumi’s laughter into his soul, and ugh if only Suguru could see him now, see how soft and pathetic he’s become for this child who looks at him sometimes like he himself placed the stars in the velvet sky.
You would if they asked it of you, Suguru says, knowingly.
I would, Satoru agrees, unflinchingly.
10.
His next series of assignments are anticipated to take three weeks to complete.
It sounds exhausting, especially after just getting back from another six-day hunt and exorcism with a particularly slippery curse able to cloak itself well enough to give even his Six Eyes some trouble, but this particular series of curses have been too troublesome for the sorcerers already sent out to deal with it. An infection type curse that has dug its deep, decaying roots into several towns in the rural countryside and will take more than just one obliterated curse body to resolve.
The real issue in all of this is that it will be his first long assignment since Itadori Wasuke’s death, and while he expected the stilted silences and wary gazes...he’s surprised to find that he’s not ready either. Nanami is still recovering from a rough fight with a Grade-2-turned-Grade-1, Shoko is north tending to several injured sorcerers, and Utahime and Mei Mei are out of the country (not that he’d let Mei Mei near his kids anyway but still). His normal child-wranglers are out of commission -- even Ijichi is indisposed for the next week or so -- and Satoru really, really doesn’t want to leave them for this long.
Blah blah blah unhealthy attachment blah blah blah codependence, whatever, his kids are bright and have great potential, but they’re also almost ten year olds and Satoru likes to think he’s learned something from the last few years of taking care of them. This? Going on a far away trip just a few weeks away from the anniversary of a traumatic incident? Not a good idea. Google can back him up on it.
So, as he’s wont to do, he disregards the higher ups warnings and does what he wants anyway.