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The phone trembled slightly in Megumi’s grasp, its weight unexpectedly heavy against his small palm. His fingers hesitated before swiping the screen, anticipation coursing through him like a current. The moment the display shifted horizontally, his breath hitched, and his dark green eyes widened, reading the contents of the message from his friend.
[Photo Attached]
Got 2! This one’s for you :D
A Hydreigon Break Pokémon card.
Unlike most Pokémon cards which were vertical, Break cards were horizontal with a shimmer across the front. Hydreigon was entirely made of gold on the card, with dark purple lightning coming out behind them.
To be fair, Megumi knew Hydreigon wasn’t a rare Pokémon. But it was to him. It meant everything to him.
Second-evolution Pokémons were always the best, but there was something special about Hydreigon. Not only was it a Dark and Dragon type, but it was wild and violent. But a three-headed golden Break card? For free?! He would’ve used Satoru’s credit card in a heartbeat.
Seriously?
For me?
Yeah dude!
A small thx for all the cookies you’ve been giving me durnig lunch haha!
Plus, it’s an extra one i got. Why not?
It was almost enough to make him cry.
He couldn’t wait to show it off. Sure, Satoru was mainly a Digimon fan, but he knew enough about Pokémon to hold a conversation with him. But Megumi wasn’t stupid, he knew he must’ve researched a bit beforehand. It was one of the only things that got him talking. But he didn’t mind. Satoru was cool. He’d never say it out loud, and even thinking about it had him worried he’d somehow hear it, but he was. It didn’t hurt to talk to him about something that he was interested in.
He was too excited to show him.
Sunday night, the door opened slowly.
The house was enveloped in a cocoon of silence, broken only by the slow creak of the front door swinging open. Megumi sat perched on a stool at the kitchen island, his legs swinging idly as he pretended to focus on his half-eaten bowl of food. He resisted the urge to turn his head, to catch a glimpse of his guardian’s arrival, opting instead to maintain an air of nonchalance despite the frantic beating of his heart.
A soft sigh echoed through the hallway as Satoru’s presence made itself known. The sound of his belongings hitting the desk sent ripples of anticipation through the air, each noise a precursor to his arrival in the kitchen. His senses were on high alert as he braced himself for the interaction to come. The boy listened intently as he heard the sound of a jacket zipper going down, shoes being slipped off, and the familiar creaking of the wooden floor.
Finally, Satoru’s figure materialized in the kitchen doorway, his brilliant white hair a stark contrast against the dimly lit room. Megumi lifted his head, his gaze meeting Satoru’s.
“Hey kid, how are you?” Satoru asked. Distantly in the back of his mind, Megumi recognized that tense voice, the low tone, and even the nearly imperceptible sound of his Infinity still on.
“Good. Hey, guess what–” Megumi began, his words tumbling out in a rush of excitement.
“That’s good,” Satoru interrupted, his attention already drifting as he rummaged through the cabinets in search of a snack. Megumi’s heart sank at the abrupt dismissal, his words dying on his lips as he watched Satoru’s movements with a mixture of disappointment and resignation. He watched quietly as his hands deftly uncovered a box of slightly stale marshmallows, his movements mechanical as he brought one to his lips.
“I had the worst fucking day today, god. I just hate paperwork, and—” Satoru’s voice trailed off into the air, mingling with the sound of his chewing. Distantly, the noise travelled in through one ear and out the other, its significance lost amidst the chaos of Megumi’s thoughts.
Megumi wasn’t sure why he expected anything to change. It was a recent familiar pattern, one that played out time and time again—a fleeting moment of hope followed by crushing disappointment. And yet, he couldn’t help but hold onto that glimmer of optimism, the belief that one day, things might be different.
He understood, to a minimal extent, the loneliness that plagued Satoru’s every waking moment. Suguru was across the world, Shoko was attempting to pursue a degree, and Nanami and Haibara weren’t as present in their lives. Satoru was alone, adrift in a sea of memories and regrets. Through bits and pieces, Megumi had gleaned glimpses of Satoru’s childhood—the weight of expectations, the burden of being the golden child of the Gojo clan. It was a role he never wanted, thrust upon him by forces beyond his control.
That could’ve been Megumi if he and his sister hadn’t been taken in by Satoru. He should be thankful; he was thankful. Satoru had provided for him in ways that went beyond mere material comfort, offering stability and support in a world of uncertainty. Satoru never left him, fed him, clothed him, sent him to school, kept a roof over his head, and made sure his sister had the best doctors on her at the hospital… Why should he think it wasn’t right to be 11 years old and listen to an adult rant about how sad and alone they were?
Part of it angered him, a simmering frustration bubbling beneath the surface of his composure. How dare Satoru dismiss his excitement with such indifference? But then that angry part of him collided with a wave of guilt, washing over him coldly. Was he selfish for expecting more, for longing for a connection that seemed perpetually out of reach?
He couldn’t imagine being so young and burdened with the weight of responsibility, with no one to turn to but himself. The realization softened the edges of his anger, replacing it with a deep-seated empathy for the man before him.
Maybe he was being a brat, an ungrateful brat, consumed by his own desires while Satoru grappled with demons of his own. The thought weighed heavily on him.
So despite the excited jitters wracking his body, the photo saved on his camera roll, and for the first time he was genuinely excited to go to school the next week, Megumi remained quiet. Instead, he listened as Satoru complained about how his biological father ruined everything.
He got the card.
It was beautiful, and his friend had even gotten him a plastic sleeve to go with it.
It was beautiful, but Megumi couldn’t even find himself to care. Which was stupid, he thought. He knew about Pokémon long before he knew Satoru. He finally got a card that he’d been dreaming about ever since he heard about Deino. So why did he care so much that Satoru didn’t know of it?
With a heavy sigh, Megumi unlocked the door, the weight of the card pressing against his pocket like a burden too heavy to bear. He kicked off his shoes with careless abandon, the clatter echoing through the empty hallway as he made his way to the kitchen to empty his lunchbox.
As expected, Satoru was there, his attention focused on an ancient flip phone that seemed to belong to another era. Megumi’s heart sank at the sight, the familiar pang of disappointment settling in the pit of his stomach.
“Hey, Megs! How was school?” Satoru’s voice was warm, tinged with a hint of genuine curiosity. But to Megumi, it sounded hollow, devoid of the understanding he so desperately craved.
His shoulders tensed at the question, a wave of resentment crashing over him. “Fine.” He replied curtly, his voice laced with a bitterness he couldn’t quite shake. The weight of the card in his pocket grew heavier.
“Yeah?” Satoru replied, his voice a weary echo in the kitchen. He leaned back against the counter, the weight of exhaustion etched into the lines of his face. “That’s good. I was just here. God, you know, I was just looking at old photos, and it turns out today was the day Toji, you know your old man, killed me. Like, wow, what an anniversary?! And that’s not even talking about—” He rolled his eyes behind his glasses, the faint hum of his Infinity a constant presence in the background. Megumi couldn’t help but wonder if his death anniversary had anything to do with it.
Something bitter and sad bubbled in Megumi’s stomach as he listened to Satoru’s words. He busied himself with removing the cover of his bento box and disposing of any trash in a nearby garbage bin. The awful mix of pity and anger continued to churn within him, a relentless storm that threatened to consume him from the inside out.
The anger clogged his throat, a bitter taste that lingered on his tongue, while the pity squeezed at his heart, threatening to overwhelm him with its weight. Part of him wanted to cry, to release the pent-up emotions that threatened to suffocate him, while another part urged him to shut up, to retreat into the safety of his own thoughts.
Out of the corner of his eye, Megumi watched his guardian, his heart heavy with sorrow. Satoru hadn’t changed out of his clothes from last night. Megumi wasn’t even sure if he had slept at all.
A long index finger tapped continuously against the counter, a nervous tick that Megumi recognized. He couldn’t help but notice how thin Satoru seemed, how the lines of fatigue etched deeper into his features with each passing day. Pity began to well up in green eyes.
He wasn’t paying attention to what he was saying. He had stopped shortly after the name of his biological father came out of his mouth. He harboured no feelings for Toji. He was a murderer. He’d killed his current guardian who he did love. He knew close to nothing of him and he didn’t want to change that.
But every time Satoru talked about him, there was an undirected anger behind his eyes. Megumi knew he was young, but he also knew he wasn’t an idiot. Sometimes, when his voice got a bit too loud and Satoru touched a scar on his neck, he couldn’t help but feel guilt. Maybe he was the indirect reason Satoru suffered every year his death anniversary came up. He was the son of his murderer, after all.
“Hello? Are you even listening?”
Satoru’s voice cut through the haze of Megumi’s thoughts, pulling him back to the present moment. A long pale hand waved in front of his face, and Megumi blinked a few times, shaking himself out of his reverie. He realized then that the water from the sink had turned hot from how long he had let it run.
Megumi looked over at Satoru, his expression clouded with concern. Despite the distance that stood between them, there was a genuine warmth in Satoru’s gaze.
“Are you okay?” He asked carefully, his hand coming to rest on the counter as he regarded Megumi with concern.
He nodded, hoping his face seemed impassive, “Yeah, I’m fine. Why?”
But that was apparently the wrong thing to say. The concern dropped from Satoru’s face like a mask, replaced with frustration. “Come on, Megumi. I was just talking to you. Don’t ignore me, that’s rude.”
The boy blinked a few times, feeling anger circling the pity in his chest, “I’m not trying to ignore you. I just zoned out–”
“Well, you’ve been doing it for a while now!” Satoru interjected, his arms crossing over his chest in a defensive gesture. “I’m trying to tell you about your dad, and here you are ignoring me!”
He let the metal chopsticks and plastic bento box he was cleaning fall back into the sink with a clang, the sound reverberating between them. “What? What are you telling me that I don’t already know?”
Satoru scoffed, his frustration palpable. “This isn’t fun for me to talk about, you know! It’s important to know your background, even if it’s hurting me, but–”
“Hurting you?” Megumi’s voice rose with anger, his chest heaving rapidly. “I never asked about him, I don’t care!”
“You don’t care? How? This is one of the only things you listen to me talk about and–”
“I don’t care! I don’t care! I don’t CARE!” Megumi’s words erupted like a volcano, his frustration boiling over into tears as he stomped his feet. Satoru was so sad he hadn’t even realized Megumi didn’t want to hear him talk about his death. It was sad and Megumi wanted it to stop.
“I just wanna talk to you about cool stuff! Like, like, Digimon and the cartoons we watch! I wanna talk about my Cursed Technique and going to Jujutsu High! I don’t wanna hear about how he killed you! I don’t care!” His voice cracked with emotion, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air.
Megumi wasn’t one to throw tantrums. When he watched his classmates throw them in class, he’d stare at them in confusion, wondering how much emotion it took to let your feelings burst out like that. But now, anger and pity rose to his throat and eyes, blinding him in tears and rage.
He cried because Satoru wasn’t able to when he should’ve been allowed to.
It wasn’t fair.
“W–What are you talking about? What cool stuff, I–?”
“I just wanna talk to you about Hydreigon, but you won’t listen to me! Just listen to me, stop talking about how you died! Just stop, stop!” He sobbed out, his fingers digging into his palm as he angrily stared up at his shocked guardian.
Satoru’s sunglasses slipped down his nose, revealing glassy blue eyes and deep eye bags that spoke volumes of the sleepless nights he endured. It did nothing to stop his pounding heart and flushed cheeks.
“What did you wanna show me?” Satoru asked quietly, his voice gentle as he lowered himself down to Megumi’s height. His eyes searched over him, filled with a mixture of concern and uncertainty.
With trembling hands, Megumi reached into his pocket and fumbled for the Pokémon card. He yanked it out and threw it towards Satoru with a mix of desperation and frustration. They both watched in silence as the card fluttered pathetically to the ground between them, its golden surface reflecting the dim light of the kitchen.
Megumi’s sobs erupted in hiccuping bursts, his emotions overwhelming him. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he struggled to regain control of his trembling form.
The card laid crumpled on the ground, its pristine plastic now marred by creases and folds. Megumi’s heart sank as he realized what he had done—he had ruined it, tarnished the very thing he had wanted so badly.
Rushing forward, Satoru reached out and gently took hold of the card, his touch light and comforting. With a tender gesture, he ushered the sobbing boy into his arms, enveloping him in a warm embrace.
Megumi stirred, his head feeling heavy as he slowly woke up with his head resting against someone’s chest. His eyes fluttered open, blinking in the soft light filtering through the room. With a soft whine, he shifted slightly, trying to get his bearings.
His face felt crusted with dried tears, and his nose was clogged with snot. Spotting a tissue box nearby on the couch, he reached over with a shaky hand, attempting to grab it.
Above him, Satoru glanced down, his arms tightening around the small boy’s torso. He noticed Megumi’s struggle and reached over to the box, taking out a few tissues and handing them over.
Megumi took the tissues, clearing his nose with a few blows. His face turned a light pink with embarrassment as the sleepy haze dissipated, leaving him feeling more awake and aware of his surroundings. He continued to stare down at his legs, tucked up under him on Satoru’s lap. He didn’t want to look up, too scared of what he’d see if he did.
“Megs,” Satoru mumbled softly, his voice a comforting presence in the quiet room, “You still tired?”
That was a good sign, Megumi figured, that Satoru was calling him by a nickname. He shook his head in response, feeling a sense of warmth and safety enveloping him in his arms.
Satoru hummed softly, his hand rubbing up and down Megumi’s back in a soothing rhythm. “Alright. I understand you don’t wanna talk, and I get this is gonna sound selfish to ask,” He murmured, leaning his head down until his slightly damp cheek rested atop Megumi’s head, “But could you listen to me for a bit?”
Megumi bit the inside of his bottom lip, struggling to hold back his emotions. He nodded once more, feeling a lump form in his throat.
Satoru lifted his head away, his hand continuing its comforting motion as he stretched out Megumi’s legs. “I’ve been very unfair to you and I’m sorry.” He began softly, his voice slightly wobbly, “I’ve been having shitty problems, and it wasn’t right to place all those problems onto you, not when I was supposed to take care of you.”
Megumi furrowed his brow at that, a protest forming on the tip of his tongue. But before he could voice it, Satoru hummed once more, gently silencing him. “No, no. Don’t interrupt me yet. I know you feel like you deserve all this, but you don’t. You’re a kid. My kid. Talking about other people who hurt me must’ve made you feel awful and you shouldn’t have felt that way, not with me.”
He sighed, his hand coming up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind Megumi’s ear. It tickled slightly. “I love you, Megumi, and I’m sorry for making you listen to my problems. I know you feel like you deserve to listen to me talk all sad-like, but you don’t. You don’t, and I’m sorry. I really am, kiddo.”
Megumi raised his head to look up at Satoru, his gaze meeting the older man’s. Satoru’s bright blue eyes shimmered with unshed tears, and it was enough to melt away the anger that had previously churned in his chest.
Satoru wasn’t mad at him. He was sad, but it wasn’t his fault.
“Did I make you cry?” Megumi asked shakily, his small hand reaching out to grab onto Satoru’s shirt collar, seeking reassurance.
Satoru’s expression softened at the question, and he gently cupped Megumi’s cheek in his hand. “Oh, kiddo. No, I made myself cry. I messed up your Pokémon card.”
Megumi watched as Satoru retrieved the crumpled card still nestled within its folded plastic. He frowned at the sight, feeling a pang of disappointment. But then Satoru spoke again, his voice soft and comforting.
“You’ve wanted this one for a while, right? I remember you mentioning the three-headed dragon.” Satoru said softly, his words carrying a hint of apology and understanding.
Megumi dragged his gaze away from the Pokémon, his eyes wide as he stared up at his guardian. Something flooded his chest—a warm, overwhelming feeling that filled him with light and happiness. Because Satoru r emembered. He remembered when Megumi talked about Pokémon and his favourites. Even if he was a weirdo who would research Pokémon just to have something to talk to Megumi about, he remembered.
“I love you a lot,” Megumi gasped out, his voice filled with emotion, his other hand reaching up to grab Satoru’s shirt, fingers curling into the fabric. “You’re really cool, and I’m glad you adopted me and Tsumiki.”
The unshed tears in Satoru’s eyes fell freely, crystalline tears running down his pink cheeks. He smiled widely, his heart swelling with love and gratitude as he brought Megumi into his arms, kissing the top of his head tenderly.
“I love you too, Megs. I love you a lot and I’m so so glad you’re my kid.”
Megumi’s breath stilled at the confession, his small arms tightening around Satoru’s neck as if to hold onto the moment forever.
That was all he asked for.