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Some time had passed since the fateful day when Fushiguro Megumi met Gojo Satoru. The teenager barged into his life with an impressive lack of tact, and made himself a place in Tsumiki and Megumi’s daily routine.
They were used to getting by on their own, but even Megumi, stubborn as he was, had to admit that things were different with Gojo around, even if just by a little. Him and Tsumiki seemed to finally have time to worry for school, and didn’t need to huddle together for warmth in the winter anymore because someone was actually paying the electricity bill.
However, he was far from a responsible substitute for a parental figure. Gojo was rarely at home, to the point where he reminded Megumi of his early relationship with a father whose face he couldn’t remember.
Megumi was a pretty smart kid, something which was probably the result of his “alternative” and “independent” upbringing. He wasn’t an optimist like Tsumiki, and was smart enough to understand that Gojo wasn’t consistent enough to stay.
If he was anything like his dad, then Megumi understood that Gojo’s visits would become less and less frequent after a while.
That’s why he was as surprised as ever when he opened his and Tsumiki’s apartment to see long black sneakers lying next to the door, next to Tsumiki’s spare sandals. He froze at the sight, slipping off his shoes and tip-toeing to his shared bedroom, praying he’d go unnoticed.
He was reaching for the handle, slowly swinging up the door when-
“Megumi.”
Megumi froze in his tracks, slowly turning his head to face the source of the voice. Recognising defeat when facing it, he trodded into the living room, tightly clutching his backpack with his hands.
Gojo was sitting on the couch in his living room. The Fushiguro siblings had moved into a new apartment with him, which was almost twice the size of their old home. The reason for this was beyond Megumi, as none of them actually used the entire apartment. Gojo did, in those occasions when he was at home, but the Fushiguro siblings were content with their shared bedroom.
If anything, it seemed like a bit of a waste.
“C’mere,” the white haired teen said, gesturing to the only vacant spot on the couch that wasn’t taken up by his abnormally long stretched out legs.
Megumi pointedly ignored the offer, choosing a soft looking spot on the carpet to stand and stare up at the Six Eyes from. Unbeknownst to him, Gojo’s high point of view made Megumi look like a garden gnome crossed with a sea urchin. He chose to voice this, causing Megumi to furrow his eyebrows before reluctantly taking the offered seat previously offered, embarrassment etched into his features.
A rare win to Gojo Satoru.
“Megumi,” Gojo started, removing his sunglasses from his face, “for how long have we known each other now?”
Megumi thought hard. He was pretty good at math, but wasn’t akin to caring much for calendars or birthdays.
“Two months,” he said, after a couple of seconds of counting on his fingers. Gojo usually came four times a week, and he’d visited them a lot so far. At least over thirty times, which Megumi privately felt was quite a number.
“Right. Anyways, no point beating around the bush,” Gojo said, grinning.
“Before I took the two of you in, for how long did you live alone with Tsumiki?”
This Megumi knew the answer to.
“My dad left when I was four, and now I’m six, so that’s two years ago. Tsumiki’s mum stayed until her sixth birthday, which was almost a year later.“
Upon noticing Gojo’s raised eyebrow, he felt an inexplicable need to explain himself:
“I didn’t keep count, but Tsumiki did. She used to think that they’d come back.” He didn’t want to give the wrong impression, leading Gojo to believe that his father’s gradual disappearance bothered him. Truth was, both of them had been keeping count for the first couple of months. But where Tsumiki had stayed hopeful, Fushiguro gave up rather quickly and accepted that his father wouldn’t want either of them in his life. Tsumiki was an angel, so her biggest crime was probably by association.
“Right then: how’d you get by? How did a five and six year old fend for themselves?” Gojo asked.
“I was raising Tsumiki, and Tsumiki was raising me. She’s did most of the work though, since she was older.” He paused for a moment, glancing up at Gojo before pointedly avoiding his eyes.
Gojo sighed.
“Look if you don’t-“ he started, seemingly unsure of how to continue- “understand the question, then let me change it a bit. How did you and Tsumiki come by, money-wise? I can’t imagine the nearby ramen place allowing interns that young.”
Megumi’s shoes were pretty new, Gojo had bought them for him after they moved in since he grew out of the old ones ages ago. They had quite an interesting pattern, and Megumi found himself looking at them.
What wonderful shoes. He wondered how they were made. Were they always that blue?
They hadn’t really spoken about the subject before, partly due to Megumi’s personal philosophy of leaving the past behind him. But maybe he was a bit naive to think that Gojo wouldn’t bring it up.
“Me and Tsumiki would wait until it was very late,” he started, slowly choosing each word, “then we’d raid the dumpsters outside the local restaurants and grocery stores. They used to throw away a lot of food, but we couldn’t eat all of it because some of it was trash. When we were first left alone, we didn’t know that we had to pay the bills. It was the middle of winter, so we had to huddle together for warmth.”
“Right.” For some reason, Gojo’s demeanor was a bit more quiet than usual. It only made the stone that had appeared in Megumi’s stomach sink deeper, like Gojo’s stare was turning him into jelly which offered no resistance to the boulder planted in his gut.
“And, you’re absolutely sure that you’re telling me everything? I won’t be mad if you say you’re not, you know.”
Megumi looked down at his shoes again, quickly averting Gojo’s eyes while he tried to keep his facial expression neutral to the best of his six year old ability. Those shoes, how very blue they were-
“-umi? ‘Gumi?”
Megumi felt his shoulder getting lightly shook.
“Don’t touch me” he snapped, feeling Gojo’s hand retract.
Megumi swallowed, fidgeting. “My dad left some money lying around. I found it occasionally, and then we could eat real food.” He knew his lie was thin, and didn’t think that someone as sharp as Gojo would be convinced by it. He was right.
“I found a cardboard box when we were moving,” Gojo said matter of factly after some seconds of quiet, as if his words weren’t turning Megumi’s blood into ice. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about it for a while, but I thought you’d prefer it if I did it without Tsumiki. It was hard to find a fitting moment, seen as you’re generally attached at the hip,” Gojo said, an amused huff following his last statement.
They sat there in what was for Megumi a strained silence for about a minute, with a seemingly unbothered Gojo drumming his fingers against each other, impatiently waiting for what he assumed was Megumi speaking up.
Megumi didn’t feel like speaking though. At all. He’d only known Gojo for two months, and he was messing this up for him and Tsumiki. Again. He wanted to squeeze something with his hands to calm himself down, and found a solution in wrapping his arms around his knees, and crossing them against each other with one hand each tightly gripping his sweater and his nose burrowed in the sweater, facing away from Gojo.
Gojo had found the box. The box with at least thirty wallets in it, hidden for the sake of not upsetting his sister.
“I know that stealing is bad, I just-“ he started, voice cracking out of panic. He knew it was bad in theory but it never felt that wrong if he was being honest. Were him and Tsumiki just meant to starve?
“Oh, I… Well, did you regret it? Like, uh, do you feel like it was a bad thing?” Gojo said awkwardly in a surprisingly forced voice after a bit of a pause, pushing his glasses up his nose where they slipped off. Speaking against mundane things like “breaking the law” weren’t really in his nature, and it just sounded like he was repeating something someone else said out loud.
Megumi wondered if he did the right thing telling the truth. Gojo was acting weird now, and looking back he was probably supposed to deny pickpocketing.
Now Gojo was disappointed in Megumi, who didn’t want to give him any more reasons to walk out on him than he already had.
As the boulder in his gut grew heavier, a dangerous dampness was starting to appear in the corner of Megumi’s eyes. No, no, no ,no-
It felt like something huge came washing over him. He’d been so stressed about this matter, and then he’d gotten too comfortable apparently, and forgotten to hide it, and now he was in real trouble, and-
He started palming at his eyes frantically, having completely forgotten that Gojo was next to him. Why was he even crying? Didn’t this come out of nowhere? It was probably the worst reaction he could have in this scenario.
“I’m- I’m sorry, I really didn’t want Tsumiki do continue eating that shit so I lied to her but I know that lying is bad and-“ he started, hating how shaky his words came out, “- and I was supposed to hide them in case I needed them again and and-“
“Wait,” Gojo started, a confused look appearing on his face, “why would you need them again? Do you need me to provide more food?”
Megumi sniffled, glancing away and staring determined at every point in the room who wasn’t a tall white haired sorcerer.
“Oh,” Gojo almost whispered, voice cracking.
“You’re just okay with stealing like that?”
“Well, at least Tsumiki was a nice girl.”
“Hey so I just remembered that I actually have like, a real family that I kinda wanna talk to, and while it has been fun playing house and all I really have to go and talk to my family that I like, actually love and care about. Give my greetings to Tsumiki! Okay, bye!”
“You’re not getting rid of me that easily, you know?” Gojo said, his voice sounding surprisingly clear, especially in a room covered in a dead silence that was only broken by Megumi’s shallow breaths.
He wanted to believe Gojo, he really did. It would be such a sweet lie to swallow.
But Megumi was really smart for his age, so he refused to make the same mistake he had made before. To get what he thought was true care and love, only to have it ripped from his memory.
He wasn’t even trying to disguise his crying at this point, shaky breaths having turned into what were quiet, but unmistakably sobs.
A huge hand put itself over Megumi’s. He knew he should push it away, but couldn’t bring himself to do it. It felt good to have something warm to hold, even if he knew that it was temporary.
There were some constants in the world. The sky was blue, curses followed humanity, and Gojo was going to leave.
“I’m not mad at you Megumi,” Gojo said, leaning downwards so that they were eye level. “I wasn’t going to kick you out or anything, not over something so little. Well I guess stealing isn’t really ‘little’, but you did what you had to do to survive right? I can’t really see the wrong in that, can you?”
Megumi sniffled, shaking his head slowly.
“You followed your gut, and you did what you believed was right. And I think your gut is alright to follow sometimes, don’t you? Laws and rules aren’t catered towards all of society. They didn’t fit you and Tsumiki for an instance. But your gut is always consistent, isn’t it?”
Megumi nodded, finally looking up at Gojo. His sunglasses had slipped off at one point, and were laying neglected on the couch. A frown had formed on his face, looking entirely out of place on his otherwise joyant features.
Without further ado, Gojo pulled Megumi towards him. It was an awkward hug in the sense that his arms got pressed against the sides of his body, and something told him that Gojo, with his infinity always turned on, wasn’t used to getting or receiving hugs. But apparently he was willing to turn it off a little, even if it was just to comfort an annoying brat. The strongest wasn’t famed or appreciated for his hugs, or anything outside of his power really.
But in that moment, Megumi privately thought he should get appreciated at least a little for what he did for him and Tsumiki though. Not that he would ever admit that.
As Gojo murmured comforting words to the best of his unqualified ability (did this man ever get comforted enough to say something other than “it’s okay”, and “I’m not going to leave you anytime soon” over and over?), Megumi felt his breaths return to normal, replaced by irregular sniffling. There was a certain comfort in wrapping his legs around Gojo, and holding his hands on the teen’s back. It felt like he could truly relax, for the first time in a very long time, even though the buzz of his breakdown was still clogging up his senses.
Gojo would take care of it. He would feed them food, pay the bills and bring the bread. Not Megumi or Tsumiki. They wouldn’t have to dig through dumpsters, and Megumi wouldn’t have to steal. He wouldn’t have to lie to his sweet and kind older sister, who always thought the best of him even when Megumi proved her and Gojo wrong, over and over.
He didn’t know how long this solution with Gojo would last. Deep down, he knew that Gojo’s words and promises were just that: words and promises.
The entire solution was most likely temporary: placed there for the temporary child who had no place in anybody’s arms, no matter what Gojo would have him believe. But it was a step, a step in returning to Megumi what his and Tsumiki’s parents had taken when they left.
It wasn’t a conventional solution by any means, but it was what Megumi needed.