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In the evening, the ringing phone pulled him away from the book he had been immersed in for several hours. He ignored it, not even checking who was calling. But as soon as it stopped ringing, it rang again. Reluctantly, Megumi reached for the device.
Ms. Ieri?
He answered, feeling ashamed for not picking up the first time.
"Good evening, sorry, I didn’t hear it."
"Are you in your room?"
"I am?" he replied with a questioning tone.
He didn’t have much contact with Shoko, so a sudden call was definitely not a good sign.
"Did something happen?"
"Not really. Do you have some time?"
"I do."
"Could you check on Gojo for me? You know where his room is?"
Check on Gojo. Check on Gojo?
"Is something wrong with him?"
"He came to see me earlier, had some business to take care of, but he seemed... off. You know how he can be. Sometimes he exaggerates or makes things up."
"But?"
"It’s strange when he doesn’t, right? Imagine him coming to you and, instead of acting like his usual self, he just sits there quietly."
"Uh... maybe he’s just—"
"I know him. I’ve seen him at his worst. Something’s not right."
"So why don’t you go?"
She fell silent for a moment.
"We... It’s not that simple. Besides, I don’t have time," she snapped, irritated. "Fushiguro, I’ve saved your ass plenty of times. It’s only fair you do me a favor for once. And let’s not forget he raised you. You could at least—"
"I’m going. Goodbye."
He impulsively hung up. Tossing his phone onto the bed, he felt a surge of emotions he couldn’t quite identify.
Clever woman! Trying to make it seem like I don’t care about him?
Frustrated, he shot up from the bed, throwing on a hoodie and a jacket—the air outside was cool. He ran his fingers through his hair before sitting on the floor to pull on his shoes.
Why am I even getting worked up? She’s wrong. Though... when I think about it, maybe it does look like that. But it’s not like I don’t care. In fact, it’s the opposite... Does he even know that?
He put on his shoes, grabbed his phone, and shot a quick message to Shoko.
*Sorry for the way I acted.*
Stepping out of his room, he headed towards Satoru’s dorm. It wasn’t far, as Gojo lived on the grounds of the Jujutsu High—it was simply more convenient. Based on what he knew of Gojo’s routine, and assuming there was no mission, which was rare, but it seemed likely, he had a meeting with the higher-ups in about three hours.
I know he raised me. There was Tsumiki, but there was also him. I really should check in on him more often. That’s what Shoko was trying to say.
Thinking about it, ever since starting at Jujutsu High, Megumi had seen Gojo a lot less. He wasn’t the type to be openly affectionate, and he didn’t want Yuji, Nobara, or the others to know what Gojo meant to him. Though, he wasn’t entirely sure why.
It was strange. No one truly understood Gojo, except for him and Shoko. In everyone’s opinion, he was undeniably the strongest, yet among the students, he was also seen as an oddball, someone no one could fully figure out. No one questioned his behavior, which was rather unusual for an adult, especially one with such immense power. Among them all, though, was Megumi. Megumi, who had known him before he became a teacher. He was his first student, practically an adopted child. While everyone else only saw an idiot chasing sweets and slacking off whenever he had the chance, Megumi saw a man drowning in work, barely sleeping three hours a night, sometimes dreaming of the past in his chair before lessons. He knew who Suguru Geto was. He knew how Satoru had spent his childhood. Fushiguro Megumi had come to know Satoru Gojo—not just as the strongest sorcerer.
He knocked on the door but didn’t hear any response.
“Gojo, it’s me. Open up.”
Nothing. He turned the handle. The door wasn’t locked. He walked in.
“Gojo?”
No answer.
Maybe he wasn’t there. Maybe Ms. Ieri was mistaken. But was she really the type to panic?
His skepticism began to give way to worry.
And if something really happened to him?
He took off his shoes and headed toward the living room. There, on his disgustingly expensive couch, Gojo was sitting.
“Hey, I—" He was about to greet him, but stopped as he realized—
Ah. He’s sleeping...
He looked around the small room. The entire apartment was only slightly bigger than the student dorms, but not by much. The living room was connected to the kitchen, while the bathroom and bedroom were separate.
It had changed a bit here.
The decor was still sparse. Gojo didn’t put much thought into it; after all, he was hardly ever here, and even when he was, he worked most of the time. There was now a vase with purple flowers on the table. The windows were covered with different curtains. Four framed photos hung on the wall. Megumi’s heart clenched as he saw them. He approached them as quietly as possible.
The first showed a trio of bruised and battered teenagers eating ramen, with Gojo grinning beside them. It was after one of their first missions together as a group. Satoru had insisted the waiter take their picture as a keepsake.
I thought he was joking about that keepsake.
Second one. A photo of Yuji, a waitress dressed as a maid, and Megumi with a halo over his head.
I lost it. It must have fallen out as soon as I got it. He found it and hung it on his wall...
The third was a photo of his three friends from their school days. Gojo, Ms. Ieri, and Suguru. Satoru didn’t like to talk about it, so Megumi was surprised to see it hanging there now.
And the fourth… Young Megumi with Tsumiki building a snowman. The photo was very poor quality.
Why would he hang such a blurry picture? You can barely see anything in it. You’d only hang it if it meant a lot to you. Oh...
He turned away from the wall, needing a moment to think.
I really should see him more often…
He quietly went to his bedroom and took a blanket from the bed. Feeling tense, he draped it over him, hoping not to wake him.
He must be really exhausted. Normally, he’d already be up by now.
Wondering if there was anything else he could do, he glanced in the fridge, though there wasn’t much to see. He sighed quietly.
Maybe I’ll go buy some dinner...
And with that thought, he did. He put on his shoes and took one more look at the sleeping figure. Gojo hadn’t moved an inch. Megumi left, closing the door slowly behind him.
The nearest good restaurant wasn’t far, something all the students and teachers at Jujutsu High were grateful for. They went there often, even Yaga. Lost in thought, he ordered two meals to-go, sitting in a corner to wait.
Those photos... Why am I thinking about them so much? Do we really make him that happy? And why did he hang that old picture from his youth?
I’d forgotten how fragile he looks when he’s asleep. He’s more delicate than anyone realizes. I know this. I really should see him more often. He probably doesn’t have anyone...
Family? He was isolated. Friends? Suguru is gone, Mr. Nanami probably doesn’t want to see him, and while Ms. Ieri and he are friends, I still feel like there’s something off between them.
Does anyone even care about him? Does anyone care how he feels? To everyone else, he’s just the strongest.
He must be very lonely.
If I lost Yuji like he lost Suguru… I don’t even want to think about it.
“Your order!”
Jolted back to reality, he didn’t even have time to respond to the waitress, who was already rushing to another table. He glanced at the time, shocked that half an hour had passed. He had felt like he’d been sitting there only a short while. He took the bag and left.
~~~~
He stood in the entryway, feeling a strange pang in his heart as he watched Gojo, knees pulled up to his chest, tears on his face. He’d wrapped himself in the blanket Megumi had draped over him earlier. It was a sight he hadn’t expected in the slightest. He’d quietly entered the apartment, thinking Gojo would still be asleep, but he was so wrong. Megumi wasn’t good at comforting people or showing emotion. That didn’t mean he didn’t feel it; on the contrary, he felt deeply. The pain he saw now was also his own. It reached him, piercing every part of his being, as though the soft sobbing he heard turned into a mass of needles pricking through his entire body.
“Gojo?”
Gojo looked up at him, his blindfold off. Megumi stepped into the living room, setting the takeout bag on the table.
“I… I bought dinner. You didn’t have much in the fridge, so I thought you might be hungry…”
Satoru quickly started wiping his tears, as if trying to pretend nothing had happened. Megumi hesitantly sat beside him, feeling painfully awkward, completely unsure what he should say. He’d always blamed himself for that.
I’m just sitting here like an idiot, watching him cry. What am I supposed to say? Should I act like I didn’t see anything?
As he looked closer, he noticed that Gojo’s whole body was trembling slightly. He forced a smile, trying his best to look as composed as possible.
“M-Megumi, what brings you here?” he said in as cheerful a tone as he could manage, but he couldn’t quite hide it.
“I…”
Megumi hesitated, ignoring what the older man had said. He didn’t want—he really didn’t want—to say anything stupid or insensitive. He’d already spoken to him that way too many times, sometimes knowingly, sometimes not. Now, guilt weighed heavily on his mind.
Why do I always have to be so cold with him, even when I know he’s so painfully fragile?
“Is there… anything I can do to help you?” He finally managed to find what he thought were the right words.
Gojo’s forced smile faded in an instant when he realized it was pointless. His white hair fell forward, hiding his face as he looked down at the floor. He shook his head slightly.
“Are you sure? If you need something, you can ask…”
After a moment of complete stillness, Gojo turned toward him, moving closer. His movements were heavy and slow. Without warning, he wrapped his arms around Megumi, pulling him close, like a child hugging a beloved stuffed animal. Megumi didn’t know what to do at first, but eventually, he placed his hands on Gojo’s back. The white-haired man rested his head on his shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“For what?”
“You shouldn’t see me like this.”
“It’s okay. You’re only human.”
Megumi felt Gojo tense slightly, holding onto him even more tightly.
“Did something happen?”
“Nothing in particular.”
“You can tell me.”
But Gojo said nothing more. He just sat there, clinging to him as though they hadn’t seen each other in years. Megumi slowly began to rub his back in a comfortable gesture.
“A sad dream?” he guessed. He hit the mark instantly.
“Mhm.”
Seeing that Gojo was still trembling, Megumi hesitantly placed a hand on his forehead.
“You have a fever. Are you feeling unwell?”
Gojo nodded, sniffling as he released Megumi and wrapped himself back in the blanket.
“Are you hungry?”
He shook his head.
Megumi reached for the bag on the table. He opened the two boxes and handed one to Gojo along with a pair of chopsticks.
“Eat with me, even just a little. I’ll make some tea. Do you even have any?”
“Megumi, you don’t have to…”
“Do you?”
“In the cupboard by the kettle.”
In the kitchen, Megumi pulled out two mugs and set the kettle on to boil. The water was ready in an instant. He left his tea plain but added sugar to the other. Gojo watched him with a sad look. Megumi placed the mugs on the table.
“A ton of sugar, just the way you like it.”
He went back to the counter to wipe up the spilled water before bringing the cups over. He heard the clatter of a plastic bowl being set down on the table. When he turned around, Gojo was crying again, so softly that Megumi wouldn’t have heard him if he hadn’t seen him. Gojo just sat there in complete silence as tears streamed down his pale cheeks. Megumi approached him quickly.
“Megumi, you really shouldn’t. I don’t deserve…” Gojo choked on his words, pausing to catch his breath.
How much must he be carrying inside?
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…”
“What are you apologizing for now?” Megumi asked uncertainly.
“I didn’t want to tell you. Not now. I wanted to wait until you were older. If I tell you… you’ll just get up and leave, and you’ll never come back, and I’ll lose the only person who seems to care, and I’ll be alone again, and I’ll regret everything all over again, and I’ll—
“Gojo.” Megumi cut off his increasingly franticmonologue.
He felt stunned. He had never seen, never even imagined, that Satoru could behave like this. It wasn’t a bad thing. Of course not. After all, he was human too, with a soul, with emotions. But what he saw now was so different from the person he saw every day. Even from what he’d seen growing up around him, knowing him privately. He had never thought that he would ever see him in such a vulnerable state. Imagining this about someone who could, with the snap of a finger, defeat any curse seemed almost unnatural. Like something that would never happen—and yet here he was, witnessing it.
“Just tell me. You don’t know what I’ll do.”
“I… I killed your father, Megumi,” Gojo said quickly, his gaze fixed on the floor.
He’d expected Megumi to explode, to hate him, to leave him forever. He had been terrified for so many years, too afraid to tell the boy who had become like a son to him. Selfishly, he had kept the secret, and over time, his guilt had started eating away at him, even haunting his dreams.
I should be angry… I think. But I’m not. Not even a little. He killed my father, and I couldn’t care less.
Is that right or wrong? Does that make me a bad person?
Then again, why should it? He was a stranger to me.
Megumi found himself chuckling quietly, and Gojo looked at him in utter confusion. Despite trying his hardest to hold back, Megumi started laughing even louder. He moved closer and put a hand on Gojo’s shoulder, even though he wasn’t usually one for physical contact.
“He was with me in life the same way he’s been with me in death. I don’t even know what he looked like. The only thing I might be upset about is that you stained your hands with blood. But you wouldn’t have done it without a reason. He was my father, sure… but he wasn’t my dad. Not like you. I don’t know what would have to happen to change that.”
What am I even saying?
“Did you just call me—?”
“Dad? Maybe.”
Tears continued trailing down Gojo’s cheeks for a moment, but he stayed silent. Megumi leaned back, giving him time. Finally, Gojo stood up and went to the bathroom, returning with his face washed and a faint smile on his lips. He motioned for Megumi to come over, and when he did, Gojo’s long arms wrapped around him once again.
“Megumiiiiii!”
“Can’t… breathe…”
He’s back. Thank goodness.
Megumi patted his back, genuinely feeling like he was losing air, until Gojo finally let go.
“Feeling better?”
“Much better. But… are you okay? I mean, it’s a bit concerning that you laughed.”
“Are you going to keep reminding me of that?” Megumi sighed. “Put your blindfold back on. Your head’s going to hurt.”
“It already does,” Gojo replied, but he still went to get it. “Can we keep this a secret?”
“Mhm. Now eat, before it gets completely cold. Just a little, like I said.”
They ate in comfortable silence. Gojo left half of his portion untouched. Though his mind seemed lighter, his fever was clearly still there, affecting his appetite.
This feels like home.
“I should go soon. It’s almost eight.”
“Meeting?”
“Yup. I don’t understand why we have to do this every day. Those old geezers always come up with pointless topics.”
“Do you have to? Can’t you find a way to skip it?”
“If I could, I’d have done it ages ago.”
“Got any medicine?”
“I’ll buy some on the way and take it.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, yes. I can’t let your efforts go to waste since you were so worried.”
Megumi flushed. He hated it, but he always blushed easily.
“I think I preferred you the way you were half an hour ago.”
Gojo chuckled.
A silence fell between them, the kind where both people feel like they want to say something but neither has the courage.
I don’t want to leave just yet. I want to stay with him a little longer…
“Megumi… stay,” Gojo said quietly, summoning his courage. “Wait for me. We can watch some cheap horror movie like we used to… or something else. You’ll have plenty of time to think things over. What do you say?”
“You don’t have even more work waiting for you when you get back? You’re always up so late at night...”
“Well, yeah...”
“You know, if you didn’t prep anything for us once in a while, we wouldn’t mind. You already take on too much.” Fushiguro muttered softly.
Gojo smiled warmly.
“I’ll wait." Megumi decided.
~~~~
About two hours later, Gojo was already home. He hadn’t lied about the medicine. When he went to take a shower, Megumi checked the containers he’d brought, making sure doses were indeed missing.
Gojo lay down on the couch, and Megumi sat on the floor, leaning his back against it. Just a few minutes into the movie, he glanced back, surprised that Gojo wasn’t making sarcastic comments about the characters’ embarrassing actions. Even though he usually wore a blindfold, Megumi could always tell if he was watching, or if his eyes were open or closed. Gojo was already asleep.
It’s only just after eleven... He’ll finally get some rest.
Megumi looked at the space in front of Satoru. The furniture was slightly larger and taller than in an average home, custom-made to fit Gojo’s height. Since he lay close to the backrest, there was a lot of room in front of him.
No way, stop it. What are you even thinking!? That’s stupid and definitely strange. Although, kids do sleep like that, right?
But I’m sixteen…
Oh, whatever. Nothing’s going to happen...
He wrestled with the thought for a long time. What he wanted to do felt so irrational that even thinking about it made his heart beat faster with nerves. But he decided to try anyway.
What am I doing, what am I doing, what am I doing? Why did this even cross my mind, and why can’t I stop myself?!
Slowly, he slid down next to Gojo, just like him, facing the big TV screen. The blanket seemed thin, but underneath it was so warm... He hoped Gojo wouldn’t wake up, but hope, of course, is often misleading.
"Megumi?"
Oh no, what have I done?! What do I even say to him now? He’ll think I’m weird!
He felt his face flush with embarrassment.
Good thing he can’t see this!
Megumi froze, afraid to move even a finger. He wanted to say something, any kind of explanation, but he couldn’t get a single word out.
"It’s okay. Lie down if you want" Gojo said, his voice sleepy.
If he says so...
He relaxed a little more with each passing moment. He turned off the TV, also feeling himself about to fall asleep. The warmth was too inviting.
"Not watching anymore?" a voice from behind startled him. He was sure Gojo had fallen asleep again.
"I feel like sleeping."
"Then, goodnight."
"Gojo?"
"Hm?"
"Can I..."
How do I even ask?! Maybe it’s better to just do it. If I’m going to stress out, might as well go all in...
Megumi turned to face him. He shifted down a little, positioning himself slightly below Gojo’s head, and awkwardly snuggled closer to him.
"Is everything alright, Megumi?" Gojo asked, surprised by the sudden need for closeness.
"So you don’t feel lonely."
And because I want to be close to you.
Gojo wrapped an arm around him, drawing him into a safe, gentle embrace. Neither of them was used to this kind of closeness, but deep down, they both needed it. At first, it felt awkward, but now this interaction seemed surprisingly natural.
"Gojo?"
"Yes?"
"Why did you only put up those photos now? I never saw them here before... Except the one I lost."
"Photos?" Gojo paused for a second. "Let’s just say, with age, people get sentimental."
"You’re young. And you’ve always been sentimental. Stop making stuff up."
"They mean a lot to me. That’s why I was afraid of them. I think I’ve finally reached a point where I want to stop, even if just for a moment, and not fear what’s always chasing me."
"Did you manage to?"
"In this one trivial thing, putting up pieces of paper I’m too attached to? Yes, that one thing, I managed."
"And the rest?"
He didn’t respond, but Megumi could imagine his expression. That kind of half-smiling, but also sad look.
I know. If it weren’t for Geto, you wouldn’t be a teacher. You wouldn’t be saving us. Everything would be different if not for that tragedy. Youth. You couldn’t defend your own, but we still have a chance. Thanks to you.
"Gojo."
"Yes?"
"Who exactly am I to you?"
"I’m sure you know." Gojo yawned, then fell silent for a moment. Megumi thought he’d already fallen asleep. "You really were his blessing," he whispered.
"Hm?"
This time he really was asleep. He was so quiet that, if Megumi hadn’t been lying next to him, feeling his heartbeat, he might have thought he was dead. It was as if the moment he drifted off, he stopped breathing. Not a single sound could be heard.
Megumi thought about everything that had happened today, but not for long. He was already on the verge of sleep, his mind quieting, and he felt only one thing. Warmth. Not just physical. It was as if his heart, his soul, was wrapped in a soft winter blanket. Like the warmth of a hot chocolate mug warming cold hands on a winter night while watching a favorite movie. He savored that melting feeling.
So warm… Satoru, Tsumiki... Family.