Work Text:
All my job entails
Making sure that they're prepared to see the world
Making sure they're fine on their own
When they're old and they're grown
And all I see is shadows
But that doesn't make it easier to let them go
- Balancing The Scales, Barlow & Bear
Satoru's power consists of molding and reshaping, pushing away and attracting, various unthinkable numbers of infinities. He has the ability to manipulate impossible situations, work through physics that the normal human brain is unable to comprehend, survive things that most sorcerers could only imagine in their worst nightmares surviving.
Ironically, all of this is much easier to understand than the little child with sea urchin hair who marches alongside him, like a soldier returning from a particularly difficult war.
“Hey, Gumi-bear” He called, his hand instinctively ruffling his unruly, spiky hair. Satoru still surprises the softness of the strands, crumpled so easily by the attack of his fingers. “How long will you be sulking?”
Megumi, like the punk he was, pushed his hand away, his face managing to contort into a much more pronounced frown, complete with a prominent pout and a vacant look towards the sunset. God, was that a crease between his thin eyebrows? Satoru had only seen something like this in Yaga, that emo Kento and...
He kicked the yellow and orange leaves in front of him with a loud sigh.
“And I thought your rebellious phase would take a while to arrive...”
“I’m not sulking.” Megumi retorted as he stomped hard on the leaves, bringing the matter to an end.
Unfortunately for him, Satoru knew this game. He used it against all those servants at his old family home when he sneakily took cookies before dinner.
With a vague hand gesture, Saturo spoke:
“Oh, of course.”
"it is really true!"
"Yes, I believe in you."
“I’m not sulking, Gojo!”
“Uhum. And I disagreed?”
The child mumbled a curse between his teeth, walking faster in front of Satoru. His backpack bounced on his back, the keychain with two stuffed dogs that Shoko gave the child as a gift for last year's birthday swayed like leaves in the autumn breeze.
Satoru watched Megumi's irritated walk over his glasses, the way his small feet stamped hard on the ground and his hands held his backpack as if it were an anchor.
Maybe he should scold Megumi for the swear word? Whise had he learned that, anyway? It was probably in high school with his friends – the vague memory of the rude word coming out of his own mouth popped into Satoru's mind, but he shook it off as quickly as it appeared.
You see, this is why Satoru had taken the reins of Megumi's education. Even though he knows that Yaga would never leave a would-be sorcerer with great potential – or any child – helpless, thise are few people who know how to deal with little Fushiguro like he does. All this surly and quiet behavior would bring tears to any family willing to take in Megumi and his sister – who is a little ray of sunshine who is too patient and well-mannered for his own good.
Only Satoru could handle this responsibility. He is the strongest.
That's why Satoru bought an apartment in Saitama , put the two children in a good school and made sure they were both well fed – which made Satoru's life a lot better, in Shoko's annoying opinion, since now he doesn't skip meals and clog up with junk food . The two Fushiguros have food on their table, new toys every month, television open until later and someone caring about them both.
It's nothing compared to what Megumi would receive in the Zenin clan – It's not even close, even if Satoru tries to provide as much comfort as possible for him – but at least the child can stay with his sister and have a minimum of normality in your life.
In return, Satoru receives frowns and muttered curses. Puppy looks and shared sweets.
It's a good exchange.
If I knew fathishood would be like this...
The thought made him freeze in place, his hand shaking inside his uniform pocket.
Paternity?
No, no, he is not Megumi or Tsumiki's father.
Maybe a mentor. A benefactor. The guy who pays the bills and keeps them from starving.
Yes, that's exactly what he is.
After all, a father would meet them at dinner, listen to the news and gossip from their school days while correctly serving what each one likes, in the exact quantity, to everyone. A real father wouldn't have rushed to the hospital at two in the morning because Tsumiki had had an allergic attack after accidentally eating the ugly peanuts in the dessert Satoru bought. A real father wouldn't leave Megumi waiting in front of the school in the winter rain for an hour while Satoru sat in class.
A father would not make such mistakes.
However, the most Satoru can do is put the takeout food on the table for the two children before retreating to his own room, collapsing on the bed with a tired body and a broken heart, his other half wandering around with hands stained with innocent blood and stomach full of curses.
Satoru shook his head, hoping the thoughts would go away.
No, he won't think about paternity, or Suguru, or tax correspondence...
Your responsibility is solely Megumi's education and evolution...
Megumi...
Megumi!
As if to laugh at him, fate found it convenient to awaken Satoru's mind from the limbo he was in with the sound of the exhaust of a car speeding down the street. The traffic light changed from red to yellow, but the car did not stop. Satoru caught a glimpse of the driver talking loudly on his cell phone, his hand on the steering wheel and his mind distracted.
Just around the corner, with his head down was Megumi, a feather raised to the asphalt, a step away...
Satoru never finished that thought.
He would never dare finish that thought.
“Megumi!”
In less than a second, Satoru threw himself towards the child, pulling him by the arm to shelter the small body on his chest, the infinity on his back protecting them from the leaves and the puddle of dirty water that was spread.
The tires squealed as the driver accelerated sharply, fleeing like the coward he was, but Satoru didn't register it. All he had in his ears was the sound of tires passing over a small body, the faint beat of a heart, the all-too-familiar sound of small, fragile bones being split in half... Satoru knew more than anyone how the human body is fragile, breakable , and Megumi is so small...
He's just a kid.
Amanai 's body wrapped in a filthy red cloth, eyes wide and lifeless, his head cracked with a bullet hole...
The cold of winter gave way to the warmth of different bodies.
The murmurs of the surrounding people sounded like clapping.
And in his arms was the body of a girl whose dreams were stolen.
But that never stopped bad things from happening, did it?
Megumi is shaking, maybe from fright, maybe because Satoru is holding him so close to him that he has to stand on his toes. Sea urchin hair was scrunched under Satoru's chin, strands tickling his nose. Satoru buried his nose in the rebellious tangle, breathing in the vanilla scent of the children's shampoo he had bought for Tsumiki, but which Megumi ended up liking too. It was good, comforting, nostalgic. It smelled of life.
Satoru held Megumi tighter, which earned a soft moan.
I will release him. He thought. Just... Not now.
“Gojo...”
A small, fragile voice called out to him, small hands clenching Satoru's jacket. When looking down, Megumi had giant, bright green eyes, his lower lip trembling.
Satoru felt snakes coil around his stomach, agitated and anxious.
Did he arrive late again?
"What happened? Are you hurt, Gumi?” He asked, not being able to bear to hear the desperation in your voice.
Megumi, however, just shook his head and rubbed his fist over his eyes.
His breathing was calmer than Satoru's.
“I- I'm fine...
A relieved sigh left Satoru at the confirmation.
"Excellent. That's..." Satoru took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. "Good. That is good."
Just in case, he still looked seriously at Megumi's flushed face, at the frightened way his eyes shone and small attempts to breathe again shook his small chest. He was fine. Maybe a little scared, but fine.
This protest did not make the furious beast inside Satoru calm down. Anger clung to his insides like thorny tendrils, wriggling in his stomach like live snakes thirsty for revenge. He could destroy that car with just a thought. A wave of the hand and all this heap of iron and rubber will turn into just unusable scrap. The asshole deserved it for driving like a madman and then running away like a stray.
As he looked down at the street below, he noticed the car stopped. As soon as the driver noticed Satoru, he started moving again.
“Get back hise, you piece of shit!” He shouted, grabbing Megumi by the hand. It didn't matter that people were looking at him with disapproving eyes. Nobody touches your child. “I’m going to rip your balls off and feed them to Megumi’s dogs, you miserable bastard! And I’m going to make sure you watch it!”
That irresponsible person could have killed someone. It could have killed Megumi!
Satoru would have run after that miserable man, set his car on fire, if a small hand hadn't held him tighter.
“Gojo, stop, it’s not worth it.”
“Of course it’s worth it, Megumi!” Satoru exclaimed, giving the old can a death glare. He managed to memorize the sign. An evil plan was forming in his head. “I’m going to make him beg to have his balls ripped off.”
Megumi rolled his eyes.
“You've already scared him enough. Let’s go home.”
When Satoru opened his mouth to retort that he hadn't even started yet, the child shot him a look straight into his eyes. It always amazed Satoru how the shade of green was similar to Toji 's , but they glowed in a different way. While those of the older Fushiguro sparkled with excitement and sadistic pride, those of the child in front of him sparkled with weariness and pleading.
Megumi is not Toji. His mind reminds him of that for the hundredth time, however it, is difficult to ignore the similarity.
Will he look like his fathis when he grows up?
Will I be able to look him in the face when this happens?
“Gojo” Megumi called again. Satoru then noticed the trembling fingers holding him. “Let’s go to the house, please.”
Home...
Megumi had never referred to Satoru's apartment as a house.
A warm feeling squeezed his heart.
Maybe... Maybe that apartment could be Satoru and Megumi's house.
Just maybe...
“Sorry, I just…” It was your turn to stutter, the words clinging to your throat, preventing them from coming out. What a pathetic image he looked. "Are you really okay? We can see Shoko if you’re feeling unwell.”
Megumi blinked, taken aback by the question, before considering it, his eyebrows furrowing again. Satoru resisted the urge to run his thumb over that wrinkle, ignoring how this small gesture could awaken memories he didn't want to remember.
“I think so... It was just a scare.” The child responded. "You do not need to worry."
Then something happened that Satoru considered a miracle, the kind that is only said in religious channels and temples. Megumi gave a small smile and – would he dare go that far? - proud.
Satoru stared at that shadow of a smile. Until this moment, he doubted that Megui was capable of making expressions other than furrowed brows and pouts that he insisted were not pouts. Softness was reserved only for Tsumiki , and if the child was feeling particularly cheerful, a smile for Shoko and Nanami .
None of this was for Satoru.
Until now.
“Megumi, did you like that I called that guy names?” Satoru questioned, surprised and a little worried.
Is this healthy?
Megumi did a fish-out-of-water imitation, stuttering and blushing furiously before marching towards the street, trying to pull Satoru with him.
“Argh , nevermind...”
“No, I want you to answer. Did you think I was amazing, like a superhero?”
“I think you were an annoying bastard.”
“Hey! Don’t ever do that again, Gumi-bear.”
“But you spoke before.” Megumi retorted, his cunning eyes narrowed, looking very proud of his counter attack. “Why can’t I too?”
A deep, rusty laugh escaped Satoru. He adjusted his sunglasses.
“Because I’m an adult and you’re a child.”
Megumi's eyebrows furrowed when he thought of this. This time Satoru reached out his hand to ease that damn crease between his eyebrows. In response, Megumi's nose wrinkled like a fluffy rabbit's, his mouth twitching at Satoru's gentle touch.
Then, as if a thought had occurred to the child at that moment, Megumi exclaimed brightly.
“You're not twenty yet, so you're not an adult!
Satoru had no arguments against that.
“Touché . But I’m still taller.”
He ran his free hand through Megumi's soft hair, laughing when the boy twisted his face into an angry expression at being refuted, and crossed the street with the child clinging to his hand. To the south, the sun was setting, indicating that Satoru would not arrive in time to make dinner. Well, they could pick up Tsumiki at his friend's house and have dinner for the three of them at both kids' favorite ramen restaurant. Everything was always resolved with a good plate of homemade ramen .
That warm feeling spread through Satoru's chest again.
Maybe Satoru could never be the father Megumi and Tsumiki deserved – he would never dream of going so high in his daydreams – but he would try to be a good benefactor anyway. He would take them to the park when they needed to have fun , help with homework while preparing dinner, advise Tsumiki about boyfriends and give Megumi kisses on the forehead with the excuse that they were just to tease, but that they had genuine affection behind them.
Satoru could do this.
Poor that one who tries to take them away from him. Satoru is willing to go to hell himself, fighting tooth and nail, to protect these two children from a world that only serves to hurt young sorcerers.
After all, the two Fushiguros were more than his responsibility. They were his children.
And Satoru Gojo always took care of what was his.