Work Text:
The lunar terminator or 'twilight zone' refers to the moving line that divides the illuminated and dark hemispheres of the Moon.
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‘I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened, I’m sor—’
‘It’s alright, Tsumiki.’
The girl was near hysterical — and who could blame her when her eight year old brother had disappeared in the middle of the night wearing only his Keroppi pyjamas?
Satoru pinched the bridge of his nose in a fruitless attempt to quell the pain behind his eyes. It had been a big jump — probably the longest distance he’d ever attempted to teleport in a single leap — but when the children’s nanny had called in the early hours of the morning using the number dedicated for emergencies, he’d had little choice but to make it.
‘You didn’t do anything wrong.’ Satoru smiled at Tsumiki in a way he hoped was reassuring. It felt more like a grimace to him. ‘So there’s no need to apologise, is there?’
Cheeks shining with tears, the little girl took a great shuddering breath. Then, faster than Satoru could blink, she stopped crying—
—and a pleasant smile found its home on her features instead.
It was downright disturbing. Not for the first time, Satoru wondered where Tsumiki had learned such behaviours; how he was supposed to make himself feel safe to the child.
‘Tuck yourself back into bed,’ he said, as softly as he could manage. ‘By the time you wake up in the morning, Megumi will be home safe and sound. Alright?’
Tsumiki gave a tight nod, but hesitated when the children’s nanny placed a hand on her shoulder. Fingers fisting into her pyjama top, she looked at Satoru with wide glassy eyes, searching for something he wasn’t sure he could give her.
The Fushiguro siblings were particular about physical contact, starved of it and yet reluctant to seek it out for themselves. Megumi would scratch and hiss if Satoru even dared to ruffle his hair, but Tsumiki seemed to yearn for it even if she didn’t know how to ask for it.
The problem was, Satoru didn’t know how to offer it either. These days, he barely even knew how to exist around other humans without Infinity, let alone how to comfort a child with tender affection — how to cradle a small body to his chest and whisper soothing reassurances and make himself soft and warm and safe.
Satoru didn’t know how to be a home, but he could track cursed energy better than anyone else. Offering Tsumiki one last grimace, the man with the Six Eyes made himself useful the only way he knew how.
---
The children’s nanny had been worried about kidnappings — Zen’in sneaking into the compound or something equally ridiculous — but Satoru thought it much more likely that Megumi’s disappearance was related to the little green frogs adorning his pyjamas. Dimly, he realised it probably should have aroused his suspicion when Megumi took a sudden interest in the character after learning about the Ten Shadows.
Rather, after Satoru had taught him about the Ten Shadows.
Shaking fears of the worst from his head, he searched with renewed focus. Not that it was hard to follow the trail of an eight year old with poor control over his cursed energy. Megumi's residuals were all over the place, tracking all the way to the edges of the Gojō estate and beyond. Even without the Six Eyes, it was easy enough to find the boy in the light of the full moon. When he did, however, Satoru needed a moment to piece together what exactly he was looking at.
Traces of Megumi’s technique were everywhere, a blot of haphazard shadows over the terrain — like one of the finger paintings he’d brought home from school — but there was no sign of a struggle with a curse. No sign of anyone else either. Only the unique residuals of shadow shikigami.
Perhaps the most telling evidence of what had happened, however, was Megumi himself. There were no visible injuries on the boy, save for the dried blood trickling from his left nostril.
As Satoru suspected, then.
He crouched down next to the boy sprawled out in the dirt, taking in the slow rise and fall of his chest. It was exhaustion, plain and simple, but it was still shocking to see Megumi in that state. What had possessed him to sneak out in the middle of the night and tackle the challenge unaided was beyond Satoru.
‘Does it bother you that much to rely on me?’ he wondered aloud.
The response came in the twitch of a nose. Opening one bleary green eye then another, Megumi blinked up at Satoru with a disgruntled expression on his face. All at once, he seemed to recognise the man.
‘Gojō.’ No honorific. He really was out of it then. ‘Look.’
Megumi elaborated no further. Instead, with monumental effort, he raised two trembling hands to touch the tips of his thumbs and forefingers together. Finally, he mumbled the command.
‘Gama.’
Summoned from the shadows — strong in the light of the full moon — a tiny frog sprang forth.
Something strange swelled in Satoru’s chest. The feeling caught in his throat, escaping as a gasp rather than the shout of excitement it felt like it wanted to become. He watched the creature hop once, twice. It gave a weak croak before immediately dissipating, bleeding back into the shadows.
When he looked at the little boy again, Satoru was smiling. What was truly miraculous, however, was the fact that Megumi was smiling too. It was just a tiny upwards curve of the lips — barely even enough to qualify as a smile — but it was something Satoru had never seen on the boy before.
It faltered when the nosebleed started up again.
Megumi had pushed himself too far — or perhaps exactly far enough. Though his cursed energy reserves were well and truly depleted, the fact that he’d managed to summon the frog at all spoke of his growth. Not for the first time, Satoru felt a rush of anticipation for the sorcerer that Megumi would one day become.
Strong enough to catch up to him.
Not just strong either. Yaga would probably scold Satoru for praising Megumi and then scold Megumi for good measure, but Satoru couldn’t help feeling impressed by the tactical intellect the boy had already shown at such a young age. His potential was boundless.
‘Full moon, huh? Smart kid.’
Megumi merely grumbled in response. Looking at the boy, barely able to raise his head off the ground, Satoru understood what was about to happen. It didn’t stop him from asking the question, just in case.
‘Any chance you can stand up?’
When Megumi didn’t even turn to look at him with that dead-eyed stare of his, Satoru sighed, giving in to the inevitable. He reached out, hands hovering over the boy before he snatched them back, hesitating. He didn’t know how to do this.
‘Megumi, I’m going to carry you. Is that alright?’ No response. Satoru swallowed, tentatively reaching out again. ‘I’m going to touch you now, okay?’
The boy didn’t say yes, but he didn’t say no either.
Setting his jaw, Satoru slid his hands under the little body on the ground. Despite the fact that Megumi was as limp as a rag doll, Satoru found it surprisingly easy to hoist him into his arms. Whether that was because the boy was particularly light for his age or simply because Satoru had never held a child before, he didn’t know.
When he got to his feet, a head of wild black hair dropped onto his shoulder and Satoru's stomach gave a strange lurch in response. He felt stiff, awkward, with one hand tucked under Megumi’s thighs and the other hovering uselessly at his back. He even started to panic a little.
Because as the moment stretched on and Satoru found himself frozen in place still, it started to become painfully clear that he wasn’t built for this.
No, Gojō Satoru was built for blowing things up and crushing things down and sometimes doing both things at the same time. The fingers suspended at the place over the boy’s heart were the same fingers capable of levelling an entire city. They were weapons.
Could they really be trusted to hold this little life?
Megumi probably didn’t know what he was doing when he reached around Satoru’s neck, clutching at the uniform on his back with small fists.He was probably delirious with exhaustion — probably hallucinating that he was in the arms of his father, perish the thought.
Still, Satoru found that it settled him all the same. The weight of that small body pressed against his suddenly felt like a comfort — because he'd almost forgotten that hugs were warm.
He let his fingers fall onto the boy’s back and pulled him in close.
---
It was the first and last time Satoru held Megumi.
Because this? The body of a boy he loves in his embrace, strong and tall and brimming with power?
This isn’t Megumi.
It feels like him, looks like him, sounds like him — but Satoru has been deceived by a devil wearing someone else’s skin before. There are no little hands grabbing at his back, no soft black curls tucked into his neck. The shadows scattered across the ruined landscape are unfamiliar.
This isn’t Megumi.
The man with the Six Eyes makes himself useful the only way he knows how.
The strongest sorcerer falls back and raises his weapon.