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Low and heavy, thick clouds hung on the horizon, obstructing the view. Cold, unforgiving winds battered down the mountainside, bending the sturdy trees inside the boundaries of Jujutsu High to their will. With nightfall steadily approaching, it was impossible to make out whether the eerie, unnatural creaks originated from cursed spirits lurking in the dark, or just gusts of air getting caught between cliffs. Soon enough, rain would fall, fall, fall, until the sky was emptied out and the clouds would be nothing but a fleeting memory on the tip of his tongue, gone for good. And that’s what he wanted to be; forgotten, a fantasy, a phantom – vapour vanishing in the first sun rays after the downpour.
Sat between gnarly roots and murky undergrowth, Megumi knew that no one would find him, no matter how much they looked. With shivers and quiet sobs shaking his worn-out limbs, he felt incredibly tiny amidst the wrath of the storm. Black hair torn in all directions and thorns piercing his uniform, he wished for nothing more than to disappear inside the shadows that he had looked into a world too long.
No matter what the others said, he still failed to feel at home at the facility that took him in. No matter how hard he tried, he still failed to build a connection with any adult ever again. Not after how ‘Dad’ left us alone. Not after what happened with Tsumiki. Never again.
So, he surrendered his body to the storm, let the tempest sweep across his face and limbs until there was nothing left to take. This was what he was made to do. This was where he was meant to be. Ripped open by wind and weather, weak as a leaf washed away with the current. If he became even less than nothing, if he became one with the earth itself, maybe then it wouldn’t hurt anymore.
He had always kept his demons neatly tucked away, orderly and safe in the depths of his mind where he had hoped to never have to reach again. And it would have stayed that way, if it wasn’t for that stupid, insensitive, white-haired asshole who had seemingly made it his mission to poke and pry when it was entirely out of line. He didn’t want to talk about his biological ‘father’, he didn’t want to know how Gojo had killed him, he didn’t want to hear it . It wasn’t like it mattered anyway.
“Megumi?” A faint cry, almost lost in the rhythmic groaning and cracking of splintering wood. The crackling of crushed leaves indicated steps, long and big and drawing closer. On command, Megumi huddled up against the cold, rain-soaked mud, holding his breath and hoping for his growing sobs to be swallowed by the cacophony of sounds.
They won’t ever find him, he was sure. He had ventured far beyond the borders of Jujutsu High, stepped foot in forests so vast that not even he himself knew where he was anymore.
But if all that was true, then why was the noise growing louder, the steps closing in?
He shrieked when – out of absolutely fucking nowhere – a hand grabbed his shoulder.
Eyes blown wide in shock, he was suddenly put face-to-face with the very last person he wanted to see right now. He spluttered, words as incoherent and unrecognisable as the utter chaos inside his head. “H-How– Why–?!”
“Megumi.” The white-haired idiot’s matter-of-fact tone couldn’t quite conceal the worry in his voice. I can see right through you, old man . You’re not so tough . Megumi just needed to collect himself again, just a short moment to pick up the shards, and no one would be able to see that there was anything broken to begin with.
Of course, as always, someone had to shatter the illusion. Barely more than a whisper, “I’m sorry–” And Megumi’s world was sent spinning again. He couldn’t believe his ears – he had never heard Gojo utter those words before. Through vines and mud, he scrambled backwards until cold wood lay flat against his shoulder blades, but there was no escaping. Like a wild animal, the sorcerer had caged him in, escape routes cut off by bramble bushes.
“I know that I’ll never be the father you wished for.”
Around them, the storm roared . An injured bird, screaming for dear life.
Despite the approaching dusk and the thick veil of rain, Megumi saw the blindfold fall. Bright like nothing he’d seen before, blue began to glow like a nightlight chasing out the shadows.
“But you better know that I’m trying my damn best!”
And suddenly, Megumi noticed that his clothes weren’t soaked anymore. Incredulously, he looked around, only to find that the rain hadn’t stopped – it had just stopped touching him. Thick drops pelted down at the same rate as before, but just as they were about to reach his hands, they were put to halt by an invisible barrier.
As if the world had stopped existing for a second; the earth’s rotation slowing to a stuttering standstill in accordance with the beat of his feeble heart.
Is this what Infinity feels like?
And then, reality jump-started anew.
The sorcerer in front of him – the man who had given him shelter – pulled him into a … hug . Megumi was at a loss for words. It was an odd gesture, even for the tactless old eccentric.
Caught between rugged tree bark and the deluge of rainfall, it wasn’t anything like Megumi had expected an embrace to be. Awkward and unnatural, Gojo’s taller body bent down to where Megumi lay in the dirt, big hands cautiously wrapping around his form as if he was something to be protected . What a delusion . It must be awfully uncomfortable and bothersome – what was the supposed ‘Strongest’ doing out here in the bushes, anyway? Surely, he had better things to do.
Despite all that, Megumi couldn’t do anything to hide the way his breath hitched and stopped; powerless to the pathetic whimper that built up in his throat. And if there was a tear rolling down his cheek, he’d later claim it had been a stray drop of rain.
Warmth. There was warmth, and something within him longed desperately to seek it out. A timid flame to thaw the ice in his limbs, a budding hope to dispel the heaviness from his bones. If things were different, he might have given in without a second thought. Yet, as it stood, he urged himself to remain wary of the touch, for he had been burnt by fire one too many times.
“With my eyes, I can sense your cursed energy no matter where you are.” A voiceless whisper, barely audible between the thunder, answering a question he hadn’t even asked out loud. Can you read minds, too? Megumi didn’t dare speak a word, knowing full well that he’d sound all weak and strange.
Amidst a world that seemed to consist of nothing but wind and water, Gojo held him like he was something he’d never let go. Even with howling squalls sweeping through the trees and blood roaring in his ears, it was the other’s heartbeat he heard the loudest.
“And I’ll always – always – come looking for you.”
There was a lingering unsteadiness to his mentor’s words, a type of insecurity he had never shown even in the hardest of fights. When Megumi dared to look up to face the gleaming blue, he felt as if they were both out on the frozen surface of a lake, venturing forward hesitantly as to not damage the thin ice sheet. And out there in the cold, surrounded by chilling snow, he thought he might have found something worth the risk of being burnt.
Megumi’s vision blurred, and this time he tried nothing to hide the turmoil inside.
When he returned the embrace with tentative courage, he could swear he saw his father – shit , he meant Gojo – smile for a blink of an eye.
“Idiot,” he mumbled into the other’s uniform, but the bite behind his words had dissipated just like clouds after rain.