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Something wasn't right.
Gojo blinks. Takes the first step around an apartment he hasn't set foot in—seen in who knows how long. Not since he first-
He shouldn't even be here.
Runs his finger across the kitchen table and doesn't pick up a single speck of dust, not like he expected to.
Impurities don't exist here. Time doesn't move.
He pads around the corner to the directions of the bedrooms, could walk these halls with his eyes closed if he wanted to, but he worries if he closes his eyes too long he might miss something.
The bedroom on the left is just as he remembers. Neatly folded bed sheets and light decorations. Pictures pinned to the walls and slippers that haven't been worn longer than he's last been inside. A few lonely plushies perched on the bed that he almost feels sorry for. He closes the door without touching anything. Doesn't want to mess up the memories tucked in between, but she probably wouldn't mind.
He holds his breath when he opens the door to the last bedroom, at the far end and to the right. Knocks just in case.
Welcomed by a vacant room but still slightly more lived in than its partner. Books stacked on the desk nearby, a mug with a dog painted on leaning against the tower of arbitrary knowledge. Scattered papers across the surface with half written words. The bedsheets are unmade, wrinkles giving away the proof of existence.
The most notable difference is a few new picture frames that sit on the shelves. He never was one for heavy interior decor. Gojo always brought him gifts anyways.
Gojo leans in at the images and smiles. Familiar faces but just a little different than he remembers. A little older but all the same.
There's one that sits on the night stand, alone and facing the pillows. He doesn't remember that ever being there and when he picks it up, his eyes widen. His own face staring back at him. The same smile he sees in the mirror. A little younger. A little less worn by the world. And two more faces he could draw from memory.
He sets it down slowly, positions it as best as he can so it doesn't look disturbed from its careful placement.
Gojo backs out of the room, shutting the door quietly behind him. Best not to snoop around too much, he wouldn't like that, Gojo knows.
The living room looks the same, would bet on winning dogs he'd find old crumbs from his late night snacking and movie marathons nestled in the crevices of the couch cushions. He remembers the scoldings like it was yesterday.
The door frame still bears the same markings he remembers. Color coded marker lines inching higher and higher. One of them halts. The next shortly follows just a few inches above. And the one in blue climbs the highest, almost reaching the peak of the frame itself.
He recalls the day the final line was drawn. Standing on chairs because he was so unfairly tall for them to reach the top of his head. Hands on their hips so they don't lose their balance. He chuckles softly.
There's a rustling at the entryway that startles him out of his reverie.
He frowns.
What the-
No one should be here. He shouldn't even be here.
He takes a cautious step towards the front room and for the first time in a long time, there's a sense of anxiety in his gut. Fingers twitching for a position he hasn't thought to use in what felt like eternity. Doesn't even know if it would work any more.
Footsteps get closer and Gojo debates his chances of darting out the nearest window or testing how rusty his physical combat has become. He grits his teeth and for the second time ever, he's plagued with the mortal curse of uncertainty.
"Gojo-sensei?"
Gojo freezes. Feels his whole world rotate backwards on it's axis and stutter to a complete stop.
"You shouldn't be here."
Megumi frowns.
"I should be saying that to you. This is where I live."
No.
No, no, no, no. Gojo shakes his head and points back at the boy who he swears must be some sort of fallacy. An enigma? A curse? A hologram?
"No. You shouldn't be here," he parrots again. "In this realm." There's a pit in his stomach that threatens to crawl up his throat as he gestures around the room.
This can't be.
He looks at Megumi. Chokes down all the factored equations that could only result in the current predicament standing before him. Eyes him up and down and prays the dread in his stomach is nothing but empty weights and illusionary dreams.
And yet—Megumi is taller. Minutely. Still not as tall as Gojo, but closer than when he last saw him. A bit more mucle to his body, his face a little sharper, a little more mature but still reigns the same soft undertones around his cheeks and lips.
"You can't be here because that would mean—"
Megumi looks away. Shrinks in on himself in the subtle ways Gojo only knows because he's known the boy for a majority of his life. Even without his Six Eyes, nothing escapes adeptly trained senses.
"How?" Gojo demands. He marches forward and resists the urge to shake all the answers out of those tensed shoulders as he fractions the distance until he's less than an arms length away and puffed up like he has the power to do something about it. Wishes he could.
"Special grade," Megumi mumbles between tight lips, still avoiding Gojo's heavy gaze. "Wasn't fast enough-"
"Bullshit." It comes out harsher than Gojo intended but he can't stop the hysteria swelling in his chest.
Megumi flinches but quickly schools it with a scowl.
"Not everyone is blessed to be untouchable like you, Gojo-sensei. Some of us-"
"That's not what I meant and you know it." Gojo interposes. He runs a hand through his hair, massages his temples and thanks whatever is out there that headaches are also seem to be mythical here. "I thought I taught you to aim higher. Surpass your limiting beliefs and don't hold yourself back." To keep fighting. Not just in on the battlefields.
"I was!" Megumi argues in frustration. "I did."
"Then why did you-" Gojo stops himself and sighs, furrows his brows. He doesn't want to get angry with the boy, couldn't ever really even if he tried. "I watched you take down three special grades without breaking a sweat the other day. You even conquered Mahoraga, so don't feed me such a shitty excuse like that. You're one of the greatest sorcerers I know."
Megumi stills in his place, mouth hanging open. "How did you- what? But I.... that was years after..." His voice falters, quivers like sheep and Gojo almost wants to apologize. Almost. He still needs answers. "You've been watching me?"
"Of course." His wills his shoulders to relax a little. "When I can. It's kind of odd how things work here."
Megumi drinks in the apartment, as if he just realized where he's at. "This is... our home."
It echoes in Gojo's ears. Our.
"Yes..." Gojo says carefully, treading across shallow waters. "Megumi, you shouldn't be here... You weren't supposed to die."
The word aches like rocks splitting his teeth. Gnaws on his veins and sends the shrapnels down his throat.
Megumi tucks his head, bites his lip and shuffles his weight to one side. "What does it matter?"
"Of course it matters! You were supposed to live a long life," Gojo stresses. "A happy one. A good one."
"So were you."
A pause slips between them and Megumi's eyes meet Gojo's. He didn't notice the fine lines beneath them at first, but they're more prominent now. Darkened beneath haunted jade green eyes, yet still catches the light just like he remembers.
"Why?" Gojo parrots, finally breaking through the silence, and they both know they aren't referring to himself.
Megumi doesn't answer. Absentmindedly scanning the environment they both know so well.
He walks past Gojo and heads down the hall towards the bedrooms.
Gojo doesn't like being ignored. He scrunches his brows and follows quickly after.
"Megumi-"
"It's just as I left it," Megumi mumbles when he enters his bedroom.
Gojo stands at the doorway and watches the boy walk through his own room like a museum. A memorial.
Megumi picks up the picture frame of him, Nobara, and Yuuji sharing drinks over karaoke. He touches the glass cover before setting it back down. "Kugisaki insisted we celebrate our graduation to Special Grade sorcerers."
"They look good. You all do," Gojo says. Unsure of what else to say. To do.
The corners of Megumi's mouth turn upwards the slightest degree. "Kugisaki's hair got really long. Itadori managed to get even buffer somehow. She still calls him gorilla boy."
Gojo's glad to hear that.
"Megumi," he begins, mapping out a fragmented timeline. "How old are you?"
"You don't know? Even though you've been watching me?" Megumi questions.
"Like I said, time moves differently here."
Megumi hesitates, peers back at the frame and answers under his breath. "Twenty one."
Six years.
There's an ache in Gojo's chest. A hollow space of a unfillable cup.
"You're still so young."
Megumi frowns without anger.
"So were you."
The silence between them becomes unbearably deafening, ringing in Gojo's ears.
"You didn't answer my question," Gojo tries again, voice softer this time. Baby steps toward a skittish animal. "Why?"
Megumi looks out the bedroom window—sees nothing but an endless sea of white light.
"Someone once told me to be greedier."
Gojo blinks. "How does-"
"-so I was. Greedy. But not with my strength or power."
Gojo cocks his head and Megumi finally turns to look at him.
"But with my heart."
Megumi holds his gaze and for once Gojo can't read him so easily like he used to. What else changed in those six years?
Megumi pads his way to sit at the top of his bed and for better or worse, Gojo follows after him. Keeps a safe distance away, but faces him nonetheless.
"Megumi..." He doesn't know what to say. Or where to begin, or end, or dive right inbetween the cracks and makes a home with the weeds that crumble the ground beneath them. "You shouldn't have thrown your life away."
"It doesn't matter."
"How can you say that? You're friends-" He sees Megumi's fist clench a shred tighter.
"They'll be fine. Sorcerers die all the time, right? It's how it is."
"Megumi-"
"I wasn't happy," Megumi cuts him off. "I tried. For years. But I just couldn't do it."
"You could have-"
"What?" Megumi spits, whipping his head up to meet Gojo, fire back in those eyes. "Tried harder? What's the point when everyone you love is dead? I had no family. My dad killed himself in front of me. I killed my sister. I killed you."
"You know that wasn't your fault," Gojo says sternly. Wants to place a hand on Megumi's shoulders to try and stabilize the ticking bomb but knows better than to do so. "You were-"
"Possessed? Yeah, I know. Too weak and got my body taken over by the worst curse to ever live. Was sent into a pit of blackness darker than any shadow I could have created. I wasn't in control, I know, but I let it happen, I was-"
"Stop." Gojo hates raising his voice. Doesn't want to sound like the authoritative assholes he grew up around spewing selfish orders, but how can he get Megumi to understand? "You are not weak, Megumi. It wasn't your fault and that's final."
Megumi huffs. He unclenches the sheets between his fists but not the lock in his jaw.
He stares at the floor until his body deflates. Dark bangs casting shadows over his eyes.
"It was still your blood on my hands," he finishes weakly. "How was I supposed to live with that? With those images in my dreams."
Misplaced guilt settles in Gojo's lungs and he hates it. He pushes his uneasiness to the back of the closet for a later day.
"All my life I always thought it was just some cruel twisted joke," Megumi begins. "Being named 'blessing'?" he scoffs. "Don't make me laugh. Everyone around gets severely hurt or winds up dead. So I thought, what's the point?"
Gojo opens his mouth to intervene but stops himself. This isn't his podium.
"It wasn't like I planned it," Megumi continues, rubbing his knuckles. "But I finally thought; if I were to die right now, I wouldn't be upset."
"To live passively and to live actively are two very different things, Megumi," Gojo murmurs. Tries to sort through the whirlwind of emotions that cycle through his mind. Anger, regret, sadness. They probably pale in comparison to the boy next to him.
"I know that," Megumi replies. "I'm sorry, but I don't think I regret it."
The boy reaches over to his night stand, fetching the framed picture and tracing the image with his fingertips.
Gojo sighs, releases the pent up tornado inside him through his lips and rests his hand on the boy's thigh.
"Megumi, are you happy now?"
"Yes." He looks back towards Gojo, firm in his answer. Unwavering.
He hides his face in the collar of his uniform and averts his gaze. "I... wanted to laugh with you again."
Something energetic courses behind Gojo's eyes. Blue and red mixing together, swirling into purple until it explodes into stardust and settles over his bones.
But-
"These weren't the circumstances I wanted us to be under when we met again," Gojo confesses. I didn't want you to die like this. For me.
"I would have died eventually," Megumi muses, reading his mind.
Gojo frowns, flicks his forehead and chuckles. "Brat. You had a lot left to live for."
"Not without you."
Megumi stills. Taps his fingers against his thigh and hesitates to speak again.
"Are you... upset with me?" He asks quietly. "For dying like this?"
Gojo hums. "I wish I wasn't the reason you chose to die," he answers truthfully. "It makes me feel a little bad for losing that fight."
The conversations dips into grey territory. They never directly addressed the fight. Never had the chance to.
"You would have won," Megumi mutters. Guilt seeping back into his voice that Gojo would wipe away with his fingertips if he could. "If it weren't for..."
"It doesn't matter," Gojo interjects, preventing the spiral from festering. "What's done is done. It's over now."
I'm here.
We're here.
Thankfully, Megumi resigns his stance, scuffing the floor with the pads of his foot instead.
"Gojo-sensei?"
"Hmm?"
"Why are you here? Like, how did you end up here, too? In the apartment? Not that I'm ungrateful, I just..."
"Wasn't expecting it?" Gojo finishes.
Megumi nods.
"When you pass on, you go to where your heart desires most," Gojo quirks his lips. "And greet the ones you missed the most."
A blush settles across Megumi's cheekbones.
"Oh."
"Eh? Why are you acting shy now?" He hooks an arm around Megumi's neck and pulls him against his chest. "Don't tell me you're regretful."
"No. That's not it." Megumi starts, voice uncharacteristically small.
"Tell me."
"What about you? Where did you go? When you first..."
Gojo cards his fingers through black locks and prays it smoothes away the nerves with it. "Look at me, Megumi."
He does and Gojo sees the anxiety pooled in his eyes. The fragility of uncertainty, of 'am I the only one?' He's grown to really dislike that look.
"Right here," Gojo says, waves his hand around the room and pats the blanket between them. "In the same place, though it wasn't preoccupied of course."
Megumi stares at him, gears turning in his brain and Gojo holds back his reprimand of telling him he thinks too much.
After a heartbeat or two, Megumi leans in and presses their lips together. Chaste, quick, and hauntingly brief. He shuffles back too quickly for Gojo's liking.
"Sorry, I-"
Gojo breaks out into a grin. "You've gotten rather bold Megumi-chan," he giggles and cuts the distance in half. "Did something critical happen in that time between that I missed?"
Megumi's eyes widen, blush creeping across his cheeks as he shoves against Gojo's chest and reels back like a burn victim.
"Shut up!"
Gojo laughs loudly this time and just like that, things are back to normal. As normal as the dead can be, at least.
He lunges forward, snaking his arms around Megumi like a cobra and locks him in tight.
Megumi still fits beneath his chin, tucked perfectly underneath and into the crook of his collarbones. He didn't realize how much he missed it until now.
"Your father's gonna have a cow about this!"
"Way to ruin the mood," Megumi growls.
"Do you think he'd be able to curse me out of the afterlife?"
"That's your biggest worry?"
"You're not the only one that lost something when we parted, you know!"
"That's— I'm s-"
"Nope! No more apologizing. Seriously, Megumi-chan, have you always been this forlorn? You used to be such an ankle biter." He ruffles the boys hair for extra measure.
Megumi diverts his gaze. Glancing around the room again and back down at the picture frame abandoned at the edge of the bed.
"Are we stuck here? In this place?"
Gojo places his hand over Megumi's and gives it a squeeze. "Of course not. Would be pretty stale if we were, huh? Come on, follow me."
He rises from the bed, doesn't let go of Megumi's hand, and leads them back to the entry way of the place they both hold dearly.
"Think about what you want, and open the door."
"Where does it lead?"
"Wherever your heart desires."
Megumi stares at the door apprehensively. His hand stops short before grasping the knob.
"Will you be with me?"
Gojo looks over and sees a young man, who reaches up a little past his shoulders now, bears more scars and the wrinkles of time, yet wears the same face of the boy he raised for nine years a lifetime ago. Interlocks their fingers like they're crossing the busy streets of Tokyo, and smiles.
"Every step of the way."
Megumi's chest rises and falls. He takes a step forward, one hand on the doorknob, the other one in its rightful place, and opens the door.
"Did it have to be him?" Toji growls. He rests his chin on a closed fist while the other one bears white knuckles on the top of the kotatsu.
"Toji, be nice. That was a long time ago." A woman, wild black hair and kind eyes, and a resemblance so uncanny that Gojo can't help but be stupefied in awe.
Now he knows where Megumi gets his pouty lips and long lashes from.
He sticks out his tongue.
"I'm ready for round two whenever you are, old man."
"Tch, that's round three. I beat you the first time."
"Doesn't count if I didn't die!"
"Are you trying to die twice? Let's settle the score, right now then, shall we?"
"Stop that," Megumi scolds, squeezes Gojo's hand underneath the blanket in a way that makes him want to parade around the living room and holler to the skies. "Both of you. No fighting in the afterlife."
The woman laughs and places such a delicate hold on Toji's bicep that has the man relax his shoulders, almost melt into her touch. A beast tamer, in Gojo's mind.
"We're more than happy to have you join us, Gojo-san! Who knew my boy could score such a handsome young man? How are your eyes so startling blue? You look like you were ripped right from a magazine cover!"
Gojo decides he really likes this woman.
"The pleasure's all mine! And please, call me Satoru. And these," he taps his temples, "come from the power of the Six Eyes."
"Tch," Toji rolls his eyes and earns a well deserved playful slap on his arm.
"Oh my!" She squeals and turns to Megumi. "You don't expect to keep him all to yourself, do you?"
"Mom, please don't embarrass me," Megumi frowns with a blush on his face.
It's almost like a movie reel from a dream, Gojo thinks as he leans back on his hands and takes in the scene around him.
He wasn't entirely sure what to expect when Megumi opened the door. Had an inkling of who he was to greet once again but two more were added into the mix of a long past due reunion.
The sight of Megumi awkwardly bending his knees when pulled into the embrace of a woman who breathed him into this world was certainly a sight to see. Head nuzzled into the crook of her shoulder and hands gripping her sweater.
In a place where love prevails and curses can't leave stains.
He looks around the room in a house that only exists in the space of possibility and desire. Barren walls with filled only with unoriginal landscape paintings because photos of memories never existed in the first place.
A generic kotatsu with generic decor in a generic room, but the people within are anything but ordinary.
Peaceful energy without the pain of the past to ruin what should have been. No one deserves it more than Megumi, Gojo thinks.
He looks at the faces around the room and settles on the one next to him. He's never seen the boy look so out of place and yet fit together all at once. Never seen him smile as many times as he has in the brief amount time they've arrived.
"Sorry it took so long," Tsumiki returns into the living room, the one face Gojo expected, tray in her hands with cups of hot tea at the ready. "Trying to figure out how to operate an unfamiliar kitchen is not exactly easy."
The dead don't need food, they all understand this, but for the sake of formality and easy tradition, it's received with open hearts.
She sets the tray down passes the drinks before taking a seat at the adjacent side of the kotatsu.
They all give in and have a few sips before Megumi's mother speaks once again. A melancholic look on her face.
"I must say, I was a bit sad seeing you at the door, Megumi," she says, an echo of how Gojo first initially felt as well. "You were so young."
He feels Megumi shift uncomfortably next to him, nails scraping the edge of his mug. "I know. I'm sorry."
She smiles fondly, the kind that melts ice and could light up any room. "But I'm so glad to see you grew into such a fine young man."
She turns her attention to Gojo. "Thank you, for keeping an eye on him, for raising him and helping him." For all the time I couldn't.
Gojo shakes his head. "I wasn't the only one." He grins, glances Tsumiki and thinks about all the people who surrounded Megumi during his life and he's positive Megumi is thinking the same.
"I know, but you were there when he needed you most. Thank you for saving the both of them."
He sees Tsumiki dab at the corners of her eyes and wonder what she must be feeling. To be included in a family that isn't entirely her own, who isn't related by blood like the other Fushiguro's yet welcomed as if she were. He wonders if she thinks about her own mother, wherever she is, but when he looks at the way the woman pats her arm, he knows it doesn't matter.
"It was really no problem at all," Gojo returns. He looks at Toji who seems to live with a permanent glare to all except the woman on his shoulder. "Thank you for entrusting him to my care," he says sincerely.
Toji huffs, fixes his eyes at a spot on the table and waves his hand. "...Whatever."
It's the best response he's going to get but he can sense that Toji doesn't regret it.
"What do you plan on doing now?" Megumi's mother asks, looking between the two boys across from her.
Gojo leans back on the palms of his hands and tilts his head.
"Wherever Megumi decides. As long as I'm with him, I don't have any particular desires."
All the attention goes to the boy in question, who picks at a loose thread and ponders over his next words.
"I'd really like to just take it easy. Maybe explore a little more if we're able."
"Would you ever consider rebirth?" Tsumiki asks.
The question hangs in the air. The second option that the dead can choose if they yearn for another chance, to wield the weight of the world once again. Most of the dead tend to do so, eventually. Sometimes the afterlife can get pretty boring.
Megumi turns to look at Gojo and tightens his grip.
"I'd find you in every universe," Gojo promises. He would, without fail. Six Eyes or not.
Megumi scans all the faces in the room.
"Not for a long while."