Chapter Text
A blessing.
That’s what Megumi’s father named him, though everything in his life has been anything but a blessing. From the moment he was born, it seemed like he was eternally cursed— destined for misfortune.
The smell of incense overpowers Megumi's senses: burning his nose hairs, clouding his mind. A monk, in traditional clothing, mutters a prayer, but Megumi's mind focuses on everything but the prayer. He feels how loose his suit is, practically swallowing him whole. The last time he wore a suit was for another funeral when he was younger — for whom, he doesn't exactly remember — and he didn't have enough time to get it properly tailored. As the prayer goes on, Megumi can practically feel his long hair clinging to his sweaty forehead. His sweat collects, making his entire body feel sticky and gross.
After a while, Megumi feels a tap on his shoulder and sees his benefactor, Gojo, beckon him to get up. "It's time," is written all over his face.
But he doesn't want to get up. He doesn't want to light incense again.
He doesn't want to say goodbye again.
“Fushiguro! You have a delivery ready!”
Megumi sighs and grabs the pizza box. As he walks over to his bike, his coworker Hana Kurusu approaches him.
“I can take over if you want, Fushiguro,” she smiles.
“Looking out for me?”
Her cheeks flush red, “I-in a sense. I noticed you look a little tired today.”
“Well, don’t,” he says rather harshly. He clears his throat and slightly lightens his tone, “I’m fine, really. My shift is supposed to end in an hour anyway. Don’t worry about me.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. You should go home if your shift is already over.”
She doesn’t seem to like Megumi’s response, but nods regardless: “Alright, well, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“See you,” he waves her goodbye and gets on his bike. He puts the address on his phone and drives away, traffic seeming worse today than usual. He speeds through a couple of cars, feeling the wind blow through his hair. He eventually gets stuck at a traffic light, though, and is forced to wait at least five minutes before inching closer to the light. While he was waiting, he noticed something to be… off. Something’s out of place, like something doesn’t belong.
It feels like that day.
The light finally turns green, and Megumi drives with a purpose. Instead of recklessly speeding, he’s observing his surroundings, analyzing what’s wrong. He notices nothing out of the ordinary: children playing in the park, a squirrel climbing a tree— everything seems to be in place. When he approaches the next traffic light, he slows down accordingly. However, his vision starts blurring, and his heart starts racing. He looks over to his right to see a semi-truck; the driver's head hangs while his whole body is slack. He looks over to the road and sees a kid waiting for the walk sign to turn green.
Shit! He speeds up, trying to catch up to the truck, so he can at least wake up the driver. He’s reaching over, tugging the driver’s arm, only to be met with no response. He looks over to see the kid start crossing over. In a panic, he reaches for the steering wheel, turning it away from the kid. The truck skids to the left as Megumi is thrown off his scooter. He feels the strong breeze again, only this time, he’s met with a pounding headache. He doesn’t know when he started staring at the sky, but he is. He hears muffled voices laced with concern: hearing words like “ambulance” and “oh my god.” His vision starts blurring again, and his eyes flutter shut.
_
“Woah, Fushiguro! You’re really bad at skating!”
“Shut up. Maybe you’re just a freak of nature.”
“Hah hah, very funny.” A hand reaches out to him, “Are you gonna get up or not?”
Megumi reaches back, and he’s lifted with ease. His eyes move up from the ground only to meet a familiar and warm face. The sun couldn’t compete with his aura. An aura so kind and bright, full of benevolence. He felt as though he’d seen this face a hundred times.
So why couldn’t he remember his face?
“You okay, Fushiguro? You don’t have a concussion or anything?” He playfully interrogates. A flippant response almost leaves Megumi’s mouth until he’s interrupted. “Oh, —--!” The figure runs past him, heading towards a bright light. Megumi wants to follow, but he’s stuck.
Why can’t he follow him?
He’s bound by the pathetic darkness that follows him. He knows he can’t follow him; it would be a disgrace to taint that bright light. Instead, he allows himself to sink into the pitiful shadows.
At least I got to see you again…
—
Megumi wakes up to the sound of shuffling and monotonous beeping. When his eyes are finally in focus, he notices Kurusu putting away something. They both make eye contact, and Kurusu’s eyes widen.
“Fushiguro! You’re awake!”
“How long have I been out?” He mumbles.
“Uhm… about a day or two, I think.”
That’s two days he missed work. “Dammit,” As he gets up, Kurusu panics and quickly prevents him from moving up further. He glares at her in annoyance and huffs, “I’m fine.”
“We don’t know that. Just stay here until the doctor gets here,” she insists. She reaches over and hits a button, eyeing Megumi to make sure he doesn’t get up. “I’ll wait here until then, okay?”
Kurusu takes out a book, a romance novel from the cover, and begins reading it. He nods and stares back up at the ceiling. The lights are dimmed, and the curtains are closed, just like how Megumi likes it; though, one could argue it’s because of his undeniable concussion. However, the more he stares at the dim light, he can’t help but think about that weird dream. How could a person be so far yet so bright? So familiar? He reminded Megumi so much of Tsumiki, but it was different. While Tsumiki’s essence reminded Megumi of the calming sea, the person in his dream reminded him of the break of dawn: how the light changes the dark hues into bright colors. But Megumi doesn't recognize the person. He can't tell what their hairstyle is, how crooked their teeth are when they smile; in a way, the figure was so bright that the light blurred any recognizable features.
Not wanting to think about the figure anymore, Megumi addresses the elephant in the room.
“How’s the kid?”
“Hm?” Kurusu hums, clearly invested in her novel.
“The kid, the one crossing the road. Is he okay?”
“Oh! Him? He’s okay! Luckily, no one else got hurt, besides, y’know,” she gestures towards him.
“What about the driver? Was he okay?”
She shrugs. “I’m not sure. I think I heard paramedics say he fainted, but if you’re asking if he got hurt after the crash, it wasn’t that bad compared to you.”
“What a relief,” he mumbles under his breath.
—
Shockingly, Megumi gets away with no life-threatening injuries — just a broken arm and an egregious concussion. He’s staying overnight, so the doctors can monitor him, which is something Megumi thinks is highly unnecessary. Hana stays with him for the rest of the day, minimizing her chit-chat and focusing on her absurdly long romance novel. Megumi doesn’t mind this; he is in no mood to talk, but he appreciates her for staying with him. It would be suffocating if he were stuck alone in a hospital like his sister. As time passes, he thinks of what he needs to do: clean the house, take more shifts, and do other horrendous tasks. It’s not long before golden light seeps through the room, and Kurusu's phone starts buzzing incessantly. Turning her attention toward her phone, she grimaces.
“I’m sorry, Megumi, I have to go. My sister doesn’t want me to come home late again.”
“It’s okay, don’t worry about it,” Megumi replies.
Kurusu scoffs, “Do you say anything but ‘don’t worry about it’ or ‘it’s okay?’” She gathers her things and stands up. “Seriously, Fushiguro, when is something not okay with you?”
Megumi rolls his eyes: “It’s seriously not a big deal. You didn’t even have to stay.”
“Of course I did!” she huffs, “I’m your friend. Seriously, who says that?” She asks lightly. “Anyways, get better soon, okay? We’re already understaffed, and we need our employee of the month back ASAP!”
He nods as Kurusu waves him goodbye. The door gently shuts after she leaves, and Megumi is by himself again. His mind wanders back to the mysterious man. Looking back at the dream more closely, Megumi wouldn’t call him a man: more a boy. He was shorter and had a lighter voice. Same with Megumi; he was also the same height as the kid, if not taller. He pinches his nose bridge and tries to muster all that he can remember. Did he see him in the hospital with Tsumiki? No, Tsumiki was hospitalized before Megumi’s first year of high school.
The kid he saw in his dream — he knew his name. Once. They were close, like they were friends. Not in the way he and Kurusu are friends, though. There was something deeper, more personal.
Megumi frowns. Some friend he is if he couldn’t even remember the guy’s face.
Frustrated, he pulls out his phone and scrolls away until the only light left is the hallway corridor and the blue screen shining brightly across his face. He takes it as a sign that it’s late enough to finally go to bed and shuts his eyes, hoping he doesn’t have to dream of that person again.
This time, he dreams of winter. He dreams of the winter right before he enters middle school. Looking down, he sees his childhood dogs: Shiro and Kuro. The two dogs are still as big as ever; however, Megumi is finally starting to outgrow them. He walks the two dogs down the block, taking in the cold, crisp air as snow crunches beneath their feet. It’s dark, but not dark enough yet where he’s concerned. He walks past the park in his neighborhood, where he spots—
Him.
Megumi stops in his tracks and stares at the kid. He’s on a swingset, mindlessly swaying back and forth. He wasn’t the kid Megumi first dreamt of, who was bubbly and outgoing. No, this felt very different. Just from appearances alone, he appears more closed off. He’s fidgeting with his fingers (he doesn’t have any gloves, Megumi notices), and he’s kicking a pile of snow as he sways. Megumi stares at the kid longer than intended. He looks up, and their eyes meet.
Is he crying?
Megumi quickly turns away, embarrassed, and continues walking his dogs. A strong gust of wind blows past him, and he doesn’t turn back. He just continues walking.
—
When Megumi is discharged, he first goes back to his apartment to clean it up. The last time Megumi was in his apartment, he remembered it was cluttered: clothes everywhere and dishes piling up. He wasn’t this messy, but the past few years have been unkind and unforgiving, especially since working full-time. As he grabs his keys, he notices the door is cracked open ever so slightly. His heart skips a beat: did someone break in?
He gently opens the door further so as not to alert anyone if his suspicions are correct. He takes a step forward and sees the last person he ever wants to see.
“Yo!”
Megumi groaned. A concussion is bad enough, but dealing with a concussion when Satoru Gojo is in your living room is worse. “How the hell did you get in here?”
Gojo plasters on a frown: “Gumi-chan, you wound me!”
“Don’t call me Gumi-chan,” Megumi deadpans.
“Kay, okay.” Gojo raises his hands in self-defense. “I just wanted to see how you were doing.”
“I’m fine, so you can just go.”
“C’mon, Megumi, I haven’t visited you since the funeral. This is the only free time I have before I have to head back to work.”
Megumi grumbles, “Fine, you can stay. But just for tonight. God knows how much of a freeloader you are.”
Gojo claps his hands in excitement, and Megumi already regrets his decision. He sets down his stuff to the side and heads to his barren room. Surprisingly, it’s the only clean part of the house: his bed is made, and there’s not much clutter. His room is as barren as ever; he couldn't be bothered to decorate it, given his circumstances.
As he sets his stuff away, Gojo appears in the doorway with a soda in his hand. “Heard you saved a kid this week.”
“Huh? That?”
“That’s how you got into that accident, right?” Gojo lowered his sunglasses
“I mean, yeah. Noticed the driver was unconscious, so…” Megumi trails off.
“Yeah, good thing you caught that. Bet that would’ve cost that pizza place a fortune to replace that scooter.” He takes a sip from his soda while Megumi is dumbfounded.
“How the hell did you find out about that?”
“Found out about what?” Megumi always hates it when Gojo plays dumb.
“How did you figure out where I work? I didn’t tell you for a reason.”
“Oh, there's a reason?” Gojo eyes him. “Please, tell me: what exactly is your reason for dropping out of university so you can work as a delivery guy?”
“It’s none of your business!” Megumi shouts.
“I didn’t take care of you for 14 years for it not to be my business!” Gojo shouts back.
“Is that why you came here? Just to interrogate me?”
“It’s not interrogating; I’m checking up on you, Megumi. When you got in that accident, I got worried-“
Megumi scoffs, “The great Satoru Gojo doesn’t reach back, and he gets worried when his student gets in a little fender bender.”
“Look— I know I’m also at fault for not reaching back. I should’ve at least called or texted more after Tsumiki’s funeral, but it’s not like when I taught. These damn executives keep overworking me.” Gojo grits his teeth.
“Or they’re not working you enough,” Megumi says under his breath.
Gojo sighs, “I’m sorry, Megumi. I should’ve been there more when Tsumiki died. You’ve already been through so much; it was cruel that I left you to fend for yourself.”
“It doesn’t matter now, I’ve got it under control. You don’t need to pay for anything anymore, like when I was a kid.”
Gojo pinches the bridge of his nose. “You’re so damn self-sacrificing, you don’t even know it. I’m sure you don’t want to talk about this after you just got discharged, so I’ll drop it for now, but at least let me cook you dinner tonight.”
“If it’ll get you to shut up, works for me,” Megumi agrees, and Gojo releases an exhale of relief. He leaves his room, and Megumi is alone once again. He sits on the edge of the bed and zones out. He hates thinking about Tsumiki, but hearing her name come out of his benefactor made her death feel more real for some odd reason. Realistically, they couldn’t have done anything to prevent her death. She had a chance of waking up from her coma, but a few years later, she had a seizure and died. That’s just how life is for Megumi: the important people leave, and he’s supposed to pick up the pieces.
“Oi, Megumi! There’s nothing in your fridge!” Gojo screams, breaking Megumi’s train of thought. He sees Gojo approach his room, wallet out in his hand. “You and I are going shopping!”
-
Gojo, of course, bought an absurd amount of sweets before buying the actual ingredients. Megumi almost choked the man when he left the store with just desserts and snacks. He sent him back and waited for him out in front of the store. The sun is too bright, and he wants to go home as soon as possible. It doesn’t help that it’s busier than usual; the number of people here is draining. As he waits, that terrible feeling from before starts forming. His heart is palpitating a bit, and a sense of dread bubbles. He scans the area thoroughly, yet finds nothing out of place. A kid is crying because she just dropped her ice cream, two people are arguing about a parking spot, and a man leaves his car: nothing out of the ordinary. He’s about to leave his spot to get a closer look before someone grabs his shoulder.
“Gumi, I got the stuff for curry! Are you ready to go?”
“It’s happening again.”
“Again? This weird feeling of yours?” Gojo questions in a serious tone for once.
“Mmh, yeah.” Megumi nods slowly.
“Okay, what have you noticed so far?”
“Nothing out of the ordinary, yet—“
He sees it. There’s a taller man, the same man who left his car, talking to the girl who just dropped her ice cream. They talk for a bit before the man subtly grabs the kid’s hand. Before Megumi says anything, Gojo hands him the grocery bags and walks towards them. They talk for a bit, Gojo focusing on the kid more than the man, which seems to piss off the man. Gojo buys the kid a new ice cream cone and says something that causes the man to tense up. His face contorts into anger, and he begins telling Gojo something. Gojo just stands there, posture unwavering, and says something back. After that point, the man leaves, and Gojo stays with the kid until she’s reunited with what appears to be her mom. He returns with a thumbs-up.
“That guy was for sure a psycho, good instinct as always, Megumi!” He smirks.
“Please don’t say that so casually,” Megumi sighs. They both get into the car, and a few moments pass before Gojo is the first to break the silence.
“Those instincts are something, Megumi.”
“What?”
“You’ve always had them, especially when someone was in danger.”
“I mean, it’s nothing,” Megumi grumbles, “it’s more anxiety and fewer instincts.”
“It’s not nothing, Megumi. Do you remember Itadori?”
Itadori… why did that name seem familiar?
“Sort of.”
“Ah, it makes sense. We didn’t want to expose you and Tsumiki to that type of stuff. You guys were still young, but you were the only one who noticed Itadori was missing way sooner than those useless officers.”
A memory unlocks inside Megumi’s brain. It’s very incoherent, though: flashes of the police lights, tears streaming down his face, caution tape around a specific park that he walked by—
“Deny it all you want, Megumi, I would consider those instincts a gift.”
“Yeah, whatever,” Megumi glares at the window. He just wants this car ride to end and for Gojo to leave as quickly as he came. They finally arrive back home, but Megumi sees a feminine figure waiting by the door. Upon further inspection, he notices that it’s Kurusu, and she’s waiting rather anxiously.
“Hey, who’s that pretty girl at your door? Your girlfriend?” Gojo asks. Megumi is seriously about to murder him.
“A coworker,” he replies dryly. As Gojo parks the car, Megumi quickly gets out to see what Kurusu needs. He hears Gojo whining about the bags, but he couldn’t care less about what Gojo wants.
“Hey Kurusu, everything okay?” Megumi asks. It spooks her since her back is turned.
“Fushiguro! I thought you were… in there.” She points at his door.
“I was out shopping. Did you need anything?”
She starts blushing: “Well, you weren’t answering my texts or calls, so I thought something might’ve happened, like you got hurt or you had worse injuries that the doctors missed…”
Megumi quickly pulls out his phone and silently curses. “Kurusu, I’m sorry for worrying you, but my phone was dead.”
“Oh? Well, now I feel stupid,” she chuckles.
“Megumi, are you gonna introduce me to your coworker, or do you still have poor manners?” Gojo interrupts, carrying all of the grocery bags, looking ridiculous as always.
“Why don’t you introduce yourself?” Megumi retorts. All of a sudden, all of the grocery bags are in his arms.
“Satoru Gojo, Upper Executive of Limitless Tech, and beloved teacher to Megumi Fushiguro! A pleasure to meet you,” he exaggerates.
“O-oh! I’m Hana Kurusu, Fushiguro’s coworker! Nice to meet you too!”
“Stop being nice to him, Kurusu. Gojo, can you open the door?”
“Yes, sir!” He replies in English and unlocks the door, bowing as if he accomplished some great feat.
“Well, I’m glad you’re doing well, Fushiguro. I’ll see you at work, okay?”
“Kurusu-chan, you should join us for dinner! I’m making curry!” Gojo suggests.
“You don’t want to eat his food, he always burns something,” Megumi responds while he hears Gojo’s “Can’t you ever say something nice about me” whine.
“Fushiguro!” Kurusu laughs, “I wouldn’t want to intrude—“
“Nonsense! You’re the only girl Megumi talks to anyway, so consider this a family outing!”
She blushes again, and Megumi goes red: “Do you ever shut up?” Gojo cackles. Megumi is seriously about to kill him- for real this time. Kurusu decides that she’ll stay for an hour or two, and Gojo rushes them both in the door.
“I’ve never been in your place, Fushiguro. It’s very quaint!” she compliments as they sit in the living room.
“That’s because he doesn’t know how to decorate!” Gojo yells from the kitchen.
“Don’t you have some cooking you need to be doing?” Megumi yells back. “Sorry, he’s a bit of a pain in the ass.”
“Don’t apologize, I think it’s entertaining!” Kurusu giggles.
“Do you want anything to drink? Water? Tea?”
“Water is fine, please,” she replies. Megumi gets up and walks over to the kitchen. He grabs a plain glass, fills it up with lukewarm water from the sink, and walks over to see Hana look at a picture of Tsumiki. She looks over, seeing Megumi looming over, and turns away from the picture.
“I’m sorry, Fushiguro, I didn’t mean to snoop! I was just looking at the picture-“
“Don’t worry about it,” he reassures, “Here’s your water.”
She gently grasps the cup and takes a sip. “Thank you.”
“She was my sister,” he says as he sits back down with Kurusu.
“I didn’t know you had a sister.”
“She passed away before I started working. I don’t exactly like talking about her,” Megumi replies nonchalantly.
That catches her off guard, but she doesn’t say anything to reflect that, “She’s really pretty.”
“Yeah, she was,” Megumi laments.
“I don’t know what I would do without Angel,” she smiles softly, “It can’t have been easy, Fushiguro. If you ever-“ Before she can finish that thought, the fire detector blares out.
“Damn it, Gojo, did you burn something already?”
-
They managed to turn off the fire detector before it caused a full-fledged evacuation. Apparently, Gojo didn't add enough water to the rice cooker, causing the bottom part of the rice to be burnt to a crisp.
“Well, the curry is fine, but think of the rice as a nice crunchy side!” Gojo tries to justify his horrendous mistake. They all sit around the coffee table, since Megumi does not have a dining table, and say their thanks.
“If you ignore the rice, the curry is good!” Kurusu compliments.
“I knew I could trust you, Kurusu-chan! Now Gumi-chan, what do you have to say?”
“I’m not feeding your ego,” he says as he eats a spoonful of the spiced curry. It’s good, but he doesn’t want to let Gojo know that.
“Harsh.” Gojo chuckles.
“Gojo-san, you mentioned that you were Fushiguro’s teacher?” Kurusu prompts, wanting to change the topic.
“Yup! I actually took care of him and his sister since Megumi was in first grade, but I was also their elementary school teacher!”
“First grade? Do you have any pictures?”
“Please no-“
“You bet I do!” He pulls out his phone and scrolls for an eternity. He shows Kurusu a photo from when he was stuck in a tree when he was seven or eight, while Tsumiki is trying to get him down. They’re both laughing incessantly, and it turns into a big embarrassment-fest for Megumi. As he's scrolling through his humongous camera roll, Megumi spots a picture from when he was in elementary school. He's with two other kids, a boy and a girl. Just as he's about to get a closer look, Gojo moves on to the next picture. Biting his cheek, Megumi lets it go; otherwise, it might bite him in the ass if he asks him to go back to the picture. They find more photos of Megumi's "bully" streak in middle school and his graduation, continuing to make fun of him for a couple of minutes before Hana gets up.
“I enjoyed dinner, but I should head out. Thank you for everything, Fushiguro and Gojo-san!”
“Do you need anything before you go?” Megumi asks.
She shakes her head, “No, I’m good. I just need to head over to the train station.”
“Train station? That’s no good,” Gojo chimes in, “Yo, Megumi, catch!” He throws Megumi his car keys: “Megumi can drive you home!”
“Oh, it’s not a big deal really-“
“Have a girl take the train home when it’s dark? It’s unchivalrous! Barbaric even,” Gojo interrupts with his dramatics.
“He’s right, unfortunately. It’s better if I drive you home, Kurusu.”
“If you don’t mind, then.” She blushes as she fiddles with her sleeves.
“Don’t worry, I’ll clean up around here!” Gojo shouts just right as they close the door, leaving him all alone in Megumi’s apartment.
—
Once Megumi leaves, Satoru does clean up. A little bit. He has more trifling matters at hand. Once he grabs a pastry to satisfy his sweet tooth, he gets to work. He dials a number, and they pick up almost immediately.
“You’re on a smoke break?”
“Yeah, and you’re interrupting me. What do you want, Satoru?”
“You’re so harsh, Shoko,” he remarks.
There’s a pause before Shoko responds. “You obviously called me for something important, so what is it?”
“Do you remember Megumi’s friends? From elementary school?”
“Hmm. Remind me what their names were?” Shoko drawls.
“Itadori and Kugisaki.”
“Them? Yeah. Why are you thinking about something so depressing at 8:00 P.M?”
“Something happened today that reminded me of them, is all.”
“You wouldn’t really call me for reminiscing on a bitter memory, so can you get to the point? I have to go back to work in ten minutes.”
“I just got to thinking,” Satoru begins, “I still don't believe the police actually caught the right guy.”
"You've been saying that for the past nine years, Satoru," she exhales heavily. Satoru can imagine the smoke cloud surrounding her right now. "When are you going to let this go?"
"Until the day I die," he states.
He can just Shoko roll her eyes. "Of course you would say that."
"I'm serious, Shoko! It's just... I seriously don't think it was Itadori's brother who killed him. It just felt like he was the easier target, you know?"
"Okay, and let's say that you're right. You still don't know who the real killer is."
"Ugh, I hate it when you're right," Satoru whines
"Guilty," she chuckles. "But, you still haven't exactly told me why you're thinking about those two."
Satoru sighs, "When I was with Megumi today, I saw a man trying to nab a kid. I don’t know why… but he looked so familiar. Like he was a coworker. That situation... it just reminded me of them is all.”
“Huh. Is he a coworker from your company?”
“No, from that elementary school. We even argued, and he almost punched me in the face! Can you believe it?”
"I can," she replies, causing Satoru to frown. "Wait, so you talked to the guy, but you didn't recognize him at all?"
“...No." He hears Shoko snicker. "I'm not good with faces, Shoko, you know this!"
She takes a deep breath to recompose herself. “Well, if this guy tried to kidnap a kid and you recognized him from that school, did you at least talk to Kusakabe or Tsukumo? They were on the case, right? They could help you out.”
“As my private investigators, yes, but I haven’t talked to them yet. I wanted to get more proof before I dig this case from the grave.” He stares at Tsumiki’s photo. A sudden somberness fills the air. “I don’t want to open Megumi’s wounds.”
“Well, call me when you find something, okay?”
“Will do, Shoko! Enjoy the rest of your smoke break,” he hangs up and sighs. He, like everyone else involved, didn’t want to remember the tragedy. He tried his best to remove Megumi from the situation, but he was the only reason anyone found out anything.
That was the year he quit teaching.
He looks through the old newspapers he brought with him. Granted, he’s been thinking about this case for a while. Who couldn’t? It was horrific and traumatizing for both the kids and adults. Two kids disappear back-to-back and are found brutally murdered just days later.
Satoru was familiar with death at that point, yet nothing prepared him to lose two students just like that.
He reads through an article regarding Choso Kamo, Itadori’s half-brother. They shared the same mother, but Kamo didn’t know he had a brother until right before Itadori’s disappearance. Some police speculated it was because of jealousy, but Satoru found that argument weak. There was no evidence suggesting that was the case, and throughout his interrogation, he was mourning the loss of his brother. Someone who brutally murdered an 11-year-old child wouldn't grieve like that.
And then there's Kugisaki.
Kamo was arrested for both the murder of Itadori and Kugisaki, but from Kamo’s testimony, he never met her. And there was, again, no evidence proving that the two ever met. The only thing that tied him to both murders was a single footprint.
“God, this case stinks,” Satoru groans. He flips over article after article, trying to find some sense in this case, until he spots a familiar face.
Wait a minute…
Satoru's eyes widen; It was the man from the market. Though it’s not concrete, and a hunch at best, he needed to call someone. He calls Yuki Tsukumo, pacing Megumi's living room like he's insane. With every dial, he taps his foot, bites his nails, walks one more lap, until he's sent to voicemail. Cursing, he tells her it's urgent and to call him back immediately.
Suddenly, he hears the door open, and he dismisses it.
“Sorry, Megumi, I got distracted. I’ll clean up in a sec—“ He feels a hot pain in his abdomen. He looks down and sees a knife jammed into his backside through his stomach. He turns around to see—
“Damn, you’re really obsessed with us, huh?” Gojo’s grip goes weak, and his phone drops to the floor. He’s light-headed. Stars surround his vision. He tries to attack his assailant, but is met with stab after stab. Pain flashes everywhere: from his spine to his abdomen. He collapses, blood pooling all over Megumi’s floor.
“Y-you won’t hurt him,” Gojo coughs. God, he’s so cold. His entire body is numb, but his brain is going into overdrive. He needs to call Megumi to tell him to stay away. As he reaches for his phone, he steps on his hand, crushing it and the phone. He looks at Gojo with a devilish smile and says something, but Gojo can’t hear what he says- it’s all muffled. He begins to walk away as Gojo’s vision starts blurring.
Megumi. I’m sorry.
Please don’t come home.
—
After he drops Kurusu home, he senses something is wrong again. He doesn’t understand why this feeling keeps popping up; it’s irritating. He analyzes his surroundings, yet there’s nothing wrong. He decides to let it go and drives home. When he arrives at his apartment complex, he notices a man leaving. He doesn’t look familiar, but he waves at Megumi. Confused, Megumi just stares at the man before he gets into his car and turns it on. It’s a nice car, though not nicer than Gojo’s. Megumi gets out of the car and walks towards his door, only to notice it’s cracked open.
Frustrated, Megumi slams the door open: “Gojo, stop leaving the door open!“
He sees red.
Blood stains his wood floor, his carpet, everything. The smell of iron is overbearing, making him gag.
No, it’s not the iron.
It’s Gojo’s body.
“Hey, Gojo? T-this isn’t funny.”
He inches closer to the man. He doesn’t want to touch him; he doesn’t want to confirm what he’s seeing. Getting closer, he doesn’t see his chest rise at all. His body is mutilated, scattered with multiple stab wounds to his stomach. There’s dry blood near his mouth, and god, Megumi just wants this to be a bad dream. He doesn’t know what’s worse: that his bright blue eyes are dull or that he’s finally quiet. He runs his hands through his hair: this can’t be real, right? It can’t be, he was just gone for 40 minutes. He eyes a piece of paper near Gojo, stained red as with everything else. He goes to pick it up and realizes it’s a newspaper. Something compels him to look through it, so he does. If things can’t get any worse, he sees a picture of the boy in his dreams:
Yuji Itadori Found Dead Near Local Park
Megumi’s breath hitches. He- he finally remembered the kid in his dreams in the worst way possible. Unwanted memories flood in, and Megumi’s legs give out. He can’t move; he can only stare in shock. His hands are even refusing to cooperate with him as they tremble relentlessly.
I need to get up. I need to call the police—
Suddenly, he hears screaming. Surprisingly, it’s not from him, but rather someone from the door. He looks over to see his neighbor, also witnessing the horrific crime scene. What he doesn’t notice is how he’s sitting in a pile of Gojo’s blood, so he gets confused about why his neighbor is calling him a murderer. She runs out, and it finally clicks for Megumi. He pushes himself up, almost tipping over, and then runs out. He can’t stay there; he can’t stay near Gojo’s corpse. As he’s running, the memories keep flooding in: Yuji’s smile, Kugisaki’s attitude, the park, police lights, Gojo’s anger, they all come flooding into Megumi’s brain. Every step he takes, it feels like he’s falling. He didn’t want to be reminded of them, not at all, and he especially didn’t want to find the closest family he had left gruesomely murdered.
It was unbearable. Megumi was sinking into the shadows with no way out. His vision blurs, the stars spinning. He shuts his eyes and runs till his legs give out, but with every step, he sinks further. He trips on nothing and just allows himself to fall. Sinking further and further into the darkness, he doesn’t want to get up.
When he opens his eyes, he notices a desk: a small, wooden desk with a little storage area in it. He raises his head, only to realize he’s in a classroom. A green chalkboard is up in front, clean as it can get. He looks around and sees other children— either chattering or roughhousing. Megumi is taken aback when he sees Gojo enter the room, looking 10 years younger and alive.
Okay, so I’m dead, he thinks to himself. He doesn’t know how exactly he would’ve died, but it doesn’t make sense to be seeing his dead teacher ten years younger.
“Psst, Earth to Fushiguro!” a voice nags him. He turns around to find the source of the voice and sees Nobara Kugisaki, alive as ever. Her cheeks are round and puffed out with her side bangs out of place.
“Kugisaki…?”
“Finally, I thought you weren’t gonna wake up,” she huffs, “Anyways, word’s going around there’s a new student!”
Wait a minute.
Despite locking most of his elementary school memories away, he does remember this day.
It was the day Yuji Itadori entered their class. He remembers how he was asleep through his introduction, and Gojo threw a wad of paper to wake him up, causing everyone to laugh at him.
It did not go the way it was going: Kugisaki never talked to him about rumors of a new student.
“Man, did I lose you again?” Kugisaki whines.
“What’s today's date?”
“You’re that out of it? It’s the 5th.”
“I knew that,” he grumbles, his voice sounding smaller than he originally thought. “What’s the month?”
She eyes him: “Seriously? You’re that sleep-deprived?”
“Just answer the question.”
“It’s December. Do you need the year too?” she retorts. God, he forgot how sassy Kugisaki can get. He rolls his eyes and turns away from her.
“Hey, don’t ignore me! What if you have brain damage?”
“Kugisaki! Settle down,” Gojo reprimands, and Kugisaki quickly shuts her mouth. Megumi stares at Gojo, not believing that he’s still alive right this instant. His leg is bouncing, and his heart is racing; if this is what Megumi is thinking, then his childhood best friend will walk through that door. And, god, he doesn’t want that to be the case.
Gojo claps his hands to get the rest of the class’s attention: “Ahem, now. We have a new student joining us today!”
No.
“Please, come introduce yourself, Itadori-san!”
No.
He walks in. The first thing Megumi notices is his bright hoodie, matching the big smile plastered on his face. His hair is shorter than he remembered, but it’s still pink as ever. And that aura- it’s the same feeling in Megumi’s dream.
There’s no way he’s back in time. There’s absolutely no way.
“Hello! My name is Yuji Itadori, and I love eating! I can’t wait to meet all of you, and I’m excited to be in this class!”
His smile is so bright: how could someone destroy that in such a grotesque way? How could someone destroy Kugisaki’s passion in a sadistic way that made grown adults throw up? All of those bad memories continue to rush in, picture after picture. Megumi’s fingers dig into his palms, and he bites the inside of his cheek.
Itadori, Kugisaki. If this truly is a second chance, I won’t waste it. I won’t walk away.
I will make this right.