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Megumi wasn’t having a good day.
It all started early in the morning, around five o’clock, when he woke up. That in itself was unusual. Megumi wasn’t the type of person who typically woke up early, barely having the willpower to get out of bed at seven, as he normally did. His routine was simple: wake up at seven, set the alarm for seven-thirty, go back to sleep for a little longer, and once the alarm rang again, finally get out of bed, make it, and proceed to take a shower to fully wake up. Nowhere in that routine was there any room for waking up at five in the morning.
Unless, of course, the reason for it was his sudden difficulty breathing and a slight but persistent headache.
The Ten Shadows user knew this was bound to happen at some point, but he never thought the chances would be this high. And even if they were, he hadn’t expected to be unlucky enough to fall into them.
The weather in Tokyo was going through a… confusing phase. In the transition from winter to spring, the climate had become unstable. Some days, students faced the coldest temperatures, bundled up in scarves and coats, while other days, they sought refuge in the shade to escape the intense heat, uniform jackets forgotten in their rooms. Adding to this was the spontaneous—and dreadful—humidity that showed up without fail every week, accompanied by rain, creating the perfect conditions for a likely flu outbreak
The situation was so serious that even Shoko had gathered everyone to raise awareness about it, advising them on how to take care of themselves during the temperature changes to avoid future colds. It was serious enough that Gojo would wait for each of his students to finish a mission with cold drinks in hand or cups of hot chocolate if the weather was cold enough. And after the flu (almost bronchitis) Inumaki had caught during a mission in the rain (unforeseen, of course), the strongest sorcerer didn’t even want to hear about missions or training in the rain anymore. Instead, he opted to give them the day off or subject them to light indoor training at the school.
Everything at the school was designed to ensure that none of the students—or adults—got sick. Everything. But Megumi was a stubborn soul.
If it was too cold, Megumi wouldn’t dress warmly enough. The black-haired boy didn’t like training with multiple layers of clothing, nor having to interrupt any of his activities to take them off later. Adding to that was his preference for cold weather, which resulted in a barely-dressed Megumi, even when all his classmates were bundled up in layers upon layers of clothing. Combine that with the sweltering heat that sometimes followed the next day, and you had the perfect recipe for an inevitable cold.
Luckily, Gojo had been going from mission to mission over the past few days. Otherwise, he would have raised hell.
For goodness’ sake, even Itadori had tried to warn him to dress warmly. Itadori, who, with a practically unbeatable body and health, still bundled up and dressed down as needed. But Megumi had insisted more than once that he was perfectly fine.
He wasn’t perfectly fine. He wasn’t even remotely close to being fine.
He had tried to go back to sleep. He had tossed and turned in bed over and over, attempting to make the most of the two hours he had left until he actually needed to get up. But it was impossible. His body seemed unable to find a comfortable position or the right temperature; sweating profusely if he covered himself with the blankets and shivering like a leaf if he only used the sheets. To make matters worse, there was a slight—but noticeable—discomfort in his limbs, as if they were sore from an absurd amount of exercise, which couldn’t have been further from the truth. All things considered, if the younger sorcerer had managed to sleep even half an hour, that was already an achievement.
When the alarm went off at seven-thirty, Megumi got up with a now unbearable headache, joint pain, and, to top it all off, a runny nose.
After a shower, vaguely tidying up his bed, and taking an aspirin, the sorcerer made his way, slow and aching, to the school kitchen, praying not to run into anyone in the hallways. Gojo was still on a mission he had left for the day before, so there was no risk of running into him. He knew the second-years had had a mission the previous day, so they’d likely have the day off today or, at most, start their activities a little later. Doing the math, that left only Kugisaki or Itadori as potential encounters.
Like Megumi—or perhaps even worse than him—Kugisaki wasn’t a morning person. She always arrived at the kitchen to eat breakfast when everyone else had practically finished theirs. She was the last to wake up and the last to go to bed. If it weren’t for her peculiar personality, Megumi would have no doubt Gojo would constantly tease her about it. So, she wasn’t an issue.
The issue, for the first time, was Itadori.
Itadori woke up every day at four-thirty. Four. Thirty. Without exception. Every single day. He would get up and go for a run for at least two hours. Afterward, he’d take a shower and proceed to make breakfast, either for himself or for the rest of his teammates. It was no surprise to anyone to find Yuji cooking breakfast when they walked into the kitchen. Nor was it unusual to see him making shopping lists or organizing groceries at seven in the morning. Even Gojo had been surprised by this, and he held the record for waking up the earliest. But the most surprising thing of all—at least to Megumi—was that no matter the day, no matter who walked into the kitchen (and clearly, no matter their mood), Itadori greeted everyone with the same smile. Today was no exception.
“Fushiguro! How are you?” As expected, Yuji was in the kitchen, already dressed in his uniform. He glanced at Megumi briefly with a smile before pouring pancake batter into the pan. “I hope you’re feeling well. I already made your coffee. The pancakes will be ready in a few minutes!”
Megumi’s cheeks turned red—not necessarily because of his cold.
Much to his dismay, the younger sorcerer had already come to terms with his sudden crush on Sukuna’s vessel. Sudden, but intense. But no one could blame him. Itadori was the most beautiful soul Megumi had ever encountered—kind, sweet, and undeniably caring. Add to that one of the most stunning smiles Megumi had ever had the privilege to see, and, well, Megumi had no problem admitting that he was completely smitten. He had no issue admitting it—as long as that person wasn’t Yuji, of course.
True to his word, on one of the tables where Megumi always had breakfast (the one in the corner, by the window, far from the door), a cup of coffee was waiting for him. Black, no sugar, no extras (without fun, as Gojo had once said). Next to the cup was a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice.
One random day, Yuji had remarked that Megumi seemed more tired than usual. A few hours later, he’d come up with the hypothesis that it might be due to a lack of vitamin D (no one, absolutely no one, knew how Yuji reached that conclusion). The next day, alongside his coffee, Megumi found a glass of orange juice and the unprecedented stern look from Itadori, which seemed to say, “There’s no discussion here. You drink it or you drink it.” A week later, along with his coffee and juice, there was a small plate of fruit waiting for him—specifically strawberries, his favorite. “They’re not too sweet, they provide nutrients, and they boost the immune system. They’d make you even stronger!” Today was no exception.
Yes, all of that made Megumi’s heart race wildly in his chest. And it did so with even greater fervor when his treacherous subconscious reminded him that, while Yuji made breakfast for everyone, he only paid such meticulous attention to detail when it came to Megumi. But that was just a simple coincidence.
A large plate of pancakes being placed on the table snapped him out of his thoughts, along with what seemed to be freshly baked cookies that, from what Megumi could smell, were ginger. Well, that was new.
“Yesterday, while I was running, I passed by the place where I always shop—you know, the one with that super sweet old lady. She had these homemade ginger cookies, so I asked her if she could have some ready for today. I hope you like them!”
If Megumi’s stomach flipped and his cheeks flushed the deepest shade of red, he would swear on his life that it was just a symptom of his cold. Definitely not caused by the loving gesture from the sunshine boy in front of him.
“Thanks, Itadori.”
Megumi couldn’t really blame himself; even he was surprised at how strained his voice sounded, as if he’d spent the entire night swallowing shards of glass. Before he could even try to mask it, his throat began to itch, sending him into a small but intense coughing fit that had Itadori patting his back and handing him his glass of juice in an instant. The Ten Shadow Sorcerer wasn’t surprised to see the confused expression on the pink-haired boy’s face.
“Megumi, are you okay?” The older boy asked, his hand still resting on the younger one’s back. Megumi couldn’t stop his heart from pounding faster at that fact, nor the stupid smile threatening to creep onto his lips at the realization that Itadori had called him by his first name. Oh God, he is so whipped that it’s almost pathetic.
“Yeah, I just… my throat feels a little scratchy, that’s all.” The dark-haired boy couldn’t bring himself to lie—not when Itadori was looking at him like that. Not when he was gazing at him with such genuine, real concern, with such sincere care that Megumi’s subconscious whispered again: this isn’t just friendship.
But then again, it’s Yuji. Yuji worries about everyone—about everyone he knows and even those he hasn’t met yet. Yuji loves everyone, and Megumi, luckily (and in some way he doesn’t quite understand), isn’t the exception.
Itadori made a small grimace, placing the hand that had been on the younger boy's back against his forehead, checking his temperature with the utmost gentleness. Megumi took the glass Yuji was still holding out to him with trembling hands, trying to distract his mind from the sensation of Itadori’s cold, large hands against his fevered skin.
After a few seconds, Itadori pulled his hand away from his forehead as though it had burned him. It took everything in Megumi not to pout at the loss of contact “You have a fever?!”
The younger boy shook his head quickly, ignoring the sharp pain in his head caused by the movement. He knew that if he didn’t convince Itadori, the only place he’d be leaving the kitchen for would be his room, where he wouldn’t be allowed out until the fever broke. And Yuji could be picky enough to stand guard at his door—or worse, tell Shoko, who would then tell Gojo, and… Oh no, Itadori cannot find out.
“No, Yuji, I just slept with too many blankets, that’s all. Besides, I’m still sleepy.”
Itadori frowned, crossing his arms as worry lingered in his gaze. However, a faint blush tinted his cheeks. Megumi’s subconscious didn’t make any remarks about it, too busy stressing over the fact that he had just called Itadori by his first name. Fever side effects.
“Are you sure? You’re not lying to me, are you?”
The younger boy shook his head again, a lump forming in his throat. He didn’t like lying to Itadori, but this was for the greater good. “No, Yuji, I swear. I’ll be fine after breakfast.”
The older boy sighed, taking a seat across from him. Megumi knew he wasn’t entirely convinced, but thankfully he didn’t press the issue further. That was a relief. “Alright, but eat all your breakfast—you need the energy. Do you want me to make you something else? I can make—”
Before he could finish, Megumi held out a ginger cookie to him while simultaneously taking one for himself. That seemed to snap Itadori out of his rambling, his full attention now focused on the boy in front of him, watching his reaction like one of those contestants on cooking shows Megumi occasionally caught him watching.
After a few seconds, the dark-haired boy gave his verdict. “They’re delicious, thanks,” Megumi said. And it was true—they were the best cookies he’d had in a long time. So much so that he barely had time to respond before reaching for another. “That’s the only one you’re getting, by the way. I’m not sharing these.”
Itadori smiled and laughed, and Megumi was finally able to relax in his seat, even with the lingering pain in his head. After all, it was just a small cold—nothing to worry about
Itadori knew something was wrong.
He knew Megumi wasn’t feeling quite right; he just knew. He could tell by his slightly flushed cheeks, which stood out sharply against his usually pale, immaculate skin. He could tell by the dark circles under his pronounced cheekbones. He could tell by his eyes—always so captivating, so aware of their surroundings—now distant and intermittently closing. He could tell by the movement of his throat, swallowing every second in what was surely an attempt to ease the itchiness. Itadori just knew.
And more importantly, Itadori knew when the younger one was lying to him. He saw it in his eyes.
However, despite having every reason to send Megumi to his room with some ginger tea and an aspirin, Itadori had decided to believe him. After all, maybe it was just a small cold. A little allergic reaction to the now frequent temperature changes. His grandfather used to have them too back in the day, and even at his age, it was nothing a simple aspirin couldn’t fix in a few hours. So with Megumi, it shouldn’t take long. It was just a cold.
It wasn’t just a cold. Not at all. And Itadori regretted it every second.
They had been sent on a mission—him, Megumi, and Nobara. According to Ijichi during the ride, it was a simple mission: three third-grade curses (second-grade at worst), one for each of them. According to Gojo (who had personally confirmed the mission’s difficulty a thousand times over), as quoted by Ijichi, “It was a piece of cake.” The most tedious part was the hour-and-a-half drive, provided there wasn’t any traffic. Normally, that wouldn’t bother Yuji.
But it did, because Megumi was asleep next to him.
In all the time Itadori had been sent on missions with Megumi, never—not once, ever—had he seen the latter sleep. Not on the way there, not on the way back. Megumi was always doing something: reading the mission report for their destination, reading a book on his tablet, or simply listening to whatever conversation Nobara and Yuji happened to be having at the time. Even on the way back to school, when Yuji could barely keep his eyes open from exhaustion, Megumi stayed awake—barely, but still awake. Once, he had even completed his mission report in the car. Nobara had called him a nerd, and Megumi had replied that it was about being efficient. At the time, Yuji could only think about how adorable the younger boy looked while focusing on his report.
Megumi never slept in the car. And now, not only was he sleeping, but he was also trembling.
About ten or fifteen minutes into the ride, during which Itadori had been staring out the window, he suddenly felt a slight weight on his right arm. Turning, confused, he found Megumi curled up against his arm, his legs pulled up to his chest like a kitten seeking warmth. And he was trembling. Slightly, but trembling nonetheless. Yuji felt his heart tighten.
Immediately, he asked Ijichi to turn off the air conditioning, which the driver complied with right away. After all, Kugisaki was asleep, so there were no complaints. Yuji brought his hand to the younger boy’s forehead, gently pressing his knuckles against Megumi’s pale skin, only to find the same elevated temperature he’d noticed at breakfast. He grimaced involuntarily.
Instinctively, with all the care in the world—and even more—the pink-haired boy carefully slid his arm out of Megumi’s grip and wrapped it around his shoulders, pulling him as close as possible to his chest without waking him. It didn’t work.
“Mm, Y-Yuji…” the younger boy mumbled, trying to open his eyes despite his exhaustion. Itadori knew with absolute certainty that, under normal circumstances, Megumi would have already shoved him away. But today, unconsciously, he nestled even closer into Yuji’s chest, seeking warmth. Yuji prayed Megumi couldn’t hear the rapid pounding of his heart.
“Shh, it’s okay, go back to sleep, Gumi.” After stroking his hair for a few moments, the younger boy drifted back into slumber, still trembling. The older boy couldn’t—and didn’t want to—resist leaving a small kiss on the younger boy’s forehead as he watched him fall back into his dreams.
And while the sight was tender enough to keep Itadori happy for a lifetime, he couldn’t shake the overwhelming worry that coursed through him. Megumi wasn’t okay—he was sick. He shouldn’t be going on a mission, shouldn’t even be anywhere near a curse in this state. But turning back was no longer an option, and Yuji knew for certain that even if they returned to the school, there was no convincing Megumi to stay behind.
The only thing left for Yuji to do was hope that, in the remaining hour of the trip, the younger boy would recover at least a little.
With a bit of rest, surely everything would be fine.
Of course, that wasn’t the case—Itadori wasn’t that lucky.
"Megumi, no, you’re not coming with us. Stay here, we’ll be back as quickly as—"
"Yuji, move, or I’ll lose my patience."
Normally, Itadori would feel intimidated by the younger boy, both by his demeanor and his seriousness. But today was not one of those times.
Megumi hadn’t gotten better during the trip—thankfully, he hadn’t gotten worse either—but he was still sick. During the ride, Sukuna's vessel had thought of every possible way to convince the younger boy to stay in the car, to stop him from pushing his already tired and sick body even further. Itadori had convinced himself that, no matter what Megumi said or did, the green-eyed boy would not leave the car. Yuji couldn’t allow it—he couldn’t bear the thought of Megumi getting hurt. It was already hard enough to tolerate him being sick. So, no matter what, the pink-haired boy wasn’t going to let Fushiguro leave the car.
He wasn’t having much success.
Yuji grabbed Megumi by the shoulders, firmly enough to get his attention but not enough to hurt him, crouching to meet him at eye level. Megumi glared at him with threatening eyes, though they were red and glossy from sleepiness and what was almost certainly a fever. The pink-haired boy couldn’t help but gently rub his thumbs over the other’s shoulders in a tender attempt to stop the trembling still present in the smaller body and to soothe the discomfort Megumi was surely feeling.
"You’re not feeling well. You’re sick. It’s dangerous for you to come."
"I’m not sick," the younger boy replied stubbornly. That was a good sign—it meant Megumi wasn’t doing that badly.
"You’re shaking like a leaf and can barely talk." Yuji nearly cooed at the sight of the smaller boy’s faint but still present pout. Yes, Itadori had no problem admitting that he was completely smitten. As long as he didn’t have to tell Megumi that, of course. "You’re not coming. This isn’t a request."
Without a second thought, the older boy took off his uniform jacket, leaving himself in a loose black T-shirt. With care—and ignoring the younger boy’s now deeply flushed cheeks—he helped Megumi into his jacket, unable to stop the smile that spread across his lips when he saw how the jacket was at least two sizes too big for him.
"You’re staying here and resting. We’ll be back soon," the older boy repeated before Megumi had a chance to protest.
Itadori had to bite his lip to keep from laughing at the sight before him. The Ten Shadow User had his small fists clenched, his brows furrowed, and a frustrated pout on his face, all while wearing a jacket that practically swallowed him whole. It was like watching a little kid throw a tantrum. Yuji hoped that this image would never leave mind
With quick steps that soon turned into a light jog, the older boy entered the building. Nobara was already there, probably on one of the upper floors. The brown-haired girl had been about to make an ironic comment about the position both students were in when the small but painful cough from the black-haired boy silenced her.
The building was two stories, fortunately well-lit. One of the curses was on the second floor, if not on the rooftop. Yuji knew that Kugisaki was up there; he could hear her. That left the other two. With a quick glance, the pink-haired boy concluded that they were either all on the second floor (which was a problem) or in the basement, which could be accessed by some stairs Yuji could see from where he stood.
Halfway up the stairs, as Itadori was heading to see if Nobara needed help, Yuji saw two balls of fur—white and black, respectively—running toward what was the basement. Both accompanied by their owner. Itadori couldn’t even stop his voice from sounding furious.
"MEGUMI!
"What do you always say? If I die, you kill me, right? Well, that's exactly what's going to happen to you."
The return trip was going quite fast, thanks to the GPS and Ijichi's great driving skills (along with a lot of speeding tickets and running red lights), they had managed to reduce it from an hour and a half to forty minutes. In Itadori's opinion, it wasn't fast enough.
Fushiguro was in his lap, trembling like a leaf in the middle of a hurricane. His whole body was covered in sweat, and Yuji didn't even need to touch his forehead to know it was burning. The younger one was barely awake, his eyes closing every so often, only coming back to reality when he heard Kugisaki and Itadori's voices, the latter pressing a small wet handkerchief to his forehead.
Yuji hadn't taken even a minute to follow him when he headed to the basement, finding him barely breathing with two curses trying to face off with Kuro and Shiro. They were weak curses, definitely third-grade, definitely easy to exorcise. And it would have been so. Under normal circumstances, Megumi might not have even needed to summon his demon dogs to defeat them, and if he had, they would have done so immediately. But with their owner sick, both dogs seemed undecided whether to fight the curses or help the green-eyed one; both dogs turning occasionally to look at Megumi with almost the same worried expression as Itadori.
It was no wonder.
When Yuji had finished with both curses, without breaking a sweat, he turned around with the intention of scolding the younger one the same way he always scolded him. He couldn't do it. Megumi was unconscious on the ground, blood coming from his nose due to the effort it took to summon his dogs with his condition, the dogs having melted into the shadows. In less than a breath, the pink-haired one had picked him up, running to the car where Nobara, barely disheveled and without a scratch, was waiting, worried.
And if Nobara was worried, then Yuji was frantic. It showed on his face, in his frown, in his eyes, and in the way his leg moved against the seat. However, it wasn't seen in the delicate and loving way he passed the wet handkerchief over the younger one's face, nor in the way he held him close to his chest with the utmost care.
"Ijichi, how much longer?"
"Ten minutes," Ijichi, the poor man, had never spoken to Sukuna's vessel with fear or anxiety; Yuji was too friendly and adorable for that. Until today, when, as never before, Yuji had almost yelled for them to go as fast as possible to the school. Yuji would apologize later.
"Y-Yuji..." A small voice startled everyone in the car. The pink-haired one lowered his head as if moved by a spring, finding Megumi with barely open eyes and little hands barely clinging to his shirt. "My... My dogs."
Of course, Megumi would be more worried about his shadow demon dogs, practically invincible, than about his own health. God, if only Yuji didn't care for him so much.
"They're fine, not a scratch," Itadori noticed how the other's body seemed to relax a little. "You know, if you cared about your health the way you care about your shikigamis, you'd make my life easier."
"Mm."
Once they arrived at the school, Yuji didn't even wait for Ijichi to properly park the car before getting out of it, almost tearing the door off its hinges, with Megumi still in his arms; both heading to see Shoko.
Halfway there, just a few meters from the dorms, the black-haired one, who until then had remained calm in the other’s arms, began to squirm uncomfortably. "Yuji, p-put me down."
"You’re not going to your room, Megumi, we’re going to see Shoko."
"Put me down," he whispered.
"I told you no."
"Put m-"
Itadori barely had time to react to the slap the green-eyed one gave him before he found him on the ground, vomiting on his knees. And what sent a chill down Yuji’s spine wasn’t the act itself, which many would find disgusting, but how painful it seemed for the younger one. What completely broke his heart, though, was seeing him cry once he had emptied the contents of his stomach. Crying like a little child.
"Oh, Gumi," Itadori cooed, kneeling beside him to pull him against his chest. "It’s okay."
The younger one shook his head, tears running down his feverish cheeks. "I’m sorry, I-I’m sorry."
"Shh, it’s okay," the older one pressed a kiss to the younger one's crown, wiping his face with the same handkerchief from before. "It will pass soon."
A few seconds passed before Megumi pushed him away again, now with more weakness than before, to painfully vomit on the ground again, crying even harder. And between the painful heaving and barely audible mutterings, Itadori heard something he never thought he would hear from the younger one:
"I want my dad."
“Two days gone, and none of my favorite students are here to greet me! So heartless. Luckily, I didn’t bring any souve—”
To be honest, Gojo didn’t expect a grand reception (even though he actually did bring souvenirs), but he also didn’t expect the scene before his eyes. He definitely didn’t expect to feel his heart shattering into pieces.
Megumi, his little blessing, his little child, was on the floor, vomiting and crying like a child, asking for him. And the blue-eyed one couldn’t, nor did he try, to avoid being at his side within seconds. His infinity deactivated in an instant.
“Gumi... Darling, what's wrong?” The blue-eyed one knelt beside him, taking the younger one in his arms, who for the first time in a long while, didn’t resist.
“D-Dad,” he couldn't stop the tears, wrapping his arms around the eldest one, holding onto him and burying his face in his chest. Satoru gently stroked his hair in an attempt to distract him from the situation. It didn’t work. "I threw up, I’m sorry, I’m sorry."
The older one pressed his lips to the younger one’s forehead, trying to stop his tears. That simple touch was more than enough to feel his very high fever. The older one sighed, holding Megumi tighter against his chest. His little boy was sick.
There were many things Megumi hated—many, a lot actually. Bullies, red bell peppers, loud noises, storms (even though the green-eyed one would deny it to his death), and above all, getting sick. While Gojo thought there was no one on earth who liked being in such a condition, no one, no one hated it more than Megumi. The blue-eyed one had learned this very quickly.
The strongest sorcerer didn’t quite know why. He didn’t know if it was some traumatic memory Megumi had during his upbringing with Toji, or if it was something he had seen in a movie without the older one's permission. He didn’t know the cause, but what he did know was that, at the slightest symptom, Megumi panicked. A lot. Unable to understand what was happening with his body, and therefore unable to control it, the younger one got scared and cried. Everything that Megumi didn’t cry about in his day-to-day life seemed to come out like a hurricane whenever he was sick.
And it broke Gojo’s heart.
Satoru hadn’t realized the first time Megumi got sick; because that was another thing: the younger one would never, ever admit he was sick until he was on the verge of collapse. Even despite his six eyes (in his defense, that day he had just returned from a mission), he hadn’t noticed the younger one’s tired and scared eyes, nor the cold sweat on his small body. He only realized the situation when he heard hurried little footsteps toward the bathroom in the apartment and the sound of painful retching a few seconds later. The blue-eyed one teleported to his side in the blink of an eye.
What he found broke his heart.
His little Megumi was on the floor, trembling, his little arms wrapped around his body, too overwhelmed by the symptoms his small body was going through. And he cried, a lot, more than Gojo had seen him cry in almost the entire year they had spent together. There were small remnants of vomit in his mouth, but neither that, nor his body drenched in sweat, did anything to prevent Satoru from picking him up with all the delicacy and love in the world. Holding him close to his body.
"N-No!" The younger one protested, trying to free himself from the older one’s arms, crying louder when he didn’t let go. "It’s dirty, i-it’s dirty!"
And even though ten years had passed, that phrase still made his heart break into pieces.
"It's dirty, I-I’m sorry." His Megumi, now no longer so small, looked at him in fear, as if Gojo was going to punish him for it. "I didn't mean to, I-I’m... I’m..."
"Shh..." The white-haired one rocked him in his arms, just like when Megumi was five, just like he did every time his little boy was scared. "It’s okay, darling, it’s not your fault." After wiping his face with the still clean part of the handkerchief Itadori had handed him without saying a word, the older one stood up from the floor, Megumi still in his arms. "We’ll fix this, okay? You don’t have to worry."
Just as he was about to head to the younger one's room, he remembered Itadori's presence in front of him. Sukuna's vessel was looking at him with concern, well, not at him, but at his little one in his arms. He looked at him as if he could tear his own heart out right at that moment just to make sure Megumi would stop being sick. He looked at him with love. And under normal circumstances, Gojo would have smiled at that, because he recognized that look, he recognized it in himself and in the face of who, to this day, still held the other half of his heart. The remaining half was with the little sea urchin in his arms and his now not-so-little girl who was at university.
"Itadori," the pink-haired one immediately fixed his gaze on his face, ready to obey any order. "I need you to go to Shoko and ask her for flu medicine. Tell her it’s for Megumi. If she’s not there, the medicine is in the cabinet in front of her desk, third shelf on the right side."
"Right away, Gojo-sensei."
In less than a breath, the brown-eyed one had left the hallways. Gojo smiled to himself, now directing his gaze to the teenager in his arms, asleep, too overwhelmed by the sensations in his body. With his free hand, Satoru gently stroked his cheek, wiping away the traces of tears. "You’ll be alright, my little blessing, I’ll take care of that."
“Raise your arms, sweetheart.”
“Mm.”
“Come on, or I’ll tell Itadori to dress you himself.” Fever and all, Megumi obeyed quickly. Little brat.
Once the younger one was dressed in a now-clean shirt, the older one picked him up again, heading toward the bed. Gojo placed him there with all the gentleness in the world, wrapping the smaller boy in his sheets, just like he used to when Megumi was little and Satoru could still tuck him in at bedtime. The comparison immediately brought a smile to his face, reminding him of a little six, almost seven-year-old Megumi. One night, the boy had knocked on his door, arms crossed and a little pout adorning his lips, utterly indignant because Satoru hadn’t tucked him in before bed, claiming it was a total lack of respect, especially coming from an adult. Gojo couldn’t hold back the smile that spread across his lips before scooping the six-year-old into his arms and kissing his forehead tenderly.
With a smile still on his face, the older man headed to Megumi’s bathroom to get a wet cloth to lower the younger one’s fever. However, a feverish hand closed around his wrist. Gojo turned almost immediately.
“N-No...”
Satoru took the smaller hand, placing a gentle kiss on it to reassure him. “I’ll bring a cold towel to bring down your fever; I’ll be right back.”
Once he had the cold towel in hand, Gojo returned to the younger one, placing it on his warm, sweat-dampened forehead. The white-haired man smiled from ear to ear as he watched Megumi’s body relax at the cool touch of the towel. Satoru gently stroked his hair, knowing for sure that the first thing Megumi would do once he felt better was take a shower for at least half an hour, refusing to leave the bathroom until he’d rid himself of what little Megumi had dubbed “sick smell.”
“I’m sorry.”
Satoru was so lost in his memories that he barely heard the younger one’s whisper. “What?”
“I’m sorry... You just came from a mission, and I get sick, and—”
“You don’t have to worry about that.” The blue-eyed one quickly interrupted, his voice, though loving, now carrying a serious tone. Satoru had removed his blindfold when he entered the room, and now Megumi could see his brilliant blue eyes in all their glory. He could see the seriousness and sincerity behind his words. “Never. I’m always here for you. I’ll always protect you.”
Megumi puffed. “I’m not five anymore.”
Satoru smiled. “No, you’re not five, but you are my son, and you’ll always be.” The older man pressed a kiss to the younger one’s crown, resuming the gentle strokes through his hair.
A few minutes later, when Megumi’s eyes started to close from exhaustion, Itadori quietly opened the door to the room, medicine in hand and a worried frown on his face. His expression softened significantly when he saw his classmate already in bed with Gojo by his side.
“Oh, Yuji-kun! Just in time.”
With hesitant steps, Itadori approached the older man, carefully handing him the medicine.
“Is Megumi okay? Does he need anything else?”
Satoru bit his lower lip, torn between making a sarcastic comment about the fact that Itadori had referred to Megumi by his first name or falling into the realization that Yuji, his student, had referred to Megumi, his son, his little boy, the light of his heart, by his first name. His. Name. The pink-haired boy was lucky the green-eyed one was sick.
“Could you wet two small towels, please? Megumi keeps them in the second shelf of the bathroom.” Just as Itadori was heading to the bathroom, Gojo remembered a very important detail. “Oh, but not the white ones with blue borders. They’re new. Megumi will kill us both if he finds out they were used for this.”
“Okay.”
While his student searched for a towel that met the youngest’s standards, Satoru handed the glass of water he had previously filled to the green-eyed boy, helping him sit up in bed at the same time. When the older man handed him two pills, Megumi frowned.
“I don’t want them”
“Well, I don’t want you sick. Hell of a conflict of interests.” The older man replied, already used to the teen’s tantrums.
“I’ll be fine without them. Besides—”
“Do you want me to call Itadori?”
With a pout on his lips, the younger one took both pills. After grimacing at the taste, he lay back down in bed. A few seconds later, a single embarrassed glance from the black-haired boy was enough for the blue-eyed man to understand that Megumi wanted Gojo to resume stroking his hair. Satoru happily obliged, smiling when the younger one returned to his almost lethargic state in less than a minute.
At the same time, Yuji returned with two small towels in his hands, handing them to Gojo as if they were porcelain. After flashing the pink-haired boy a thankful smile, the older man wrapped the towels around the wrists and ankles of the sick sea urchin in bed, who, just seconds away from falling asleep completely, sighed contentedly. Both Yuji and Satoru smiled.
“Is there anything else I can do, Gojo-sensei?” The brown-eyed boy asked, his gaze still fixed on Megumi’s sleeping form.
The older man shook his head. “He just needs to rest now. He’ll be better tomorrow.” At those words, the strongest sorcerer noticed how Itadori sighed in relief, visibly more relaxed. That was when Satoru remembered that both students had been on a mission just a few hours ago. Clearly, Itadori wasn’t hurt, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t exhausted. “Yuji-kun, he’ll be fine. Go rest; I’ll let you know as soon as he wakes up.”
The pink-haired boy nodded, though Gojo could see the doubt in his face as his gaze remained fixed on Megumi. After a few seconds, when Yuji began heading for the door, the blue-eyed man stopped him.
“Yuji.” The mentioned boy turned immediately, attentive. “Thank you for taking care of him.”
Itadori smiled widely. “It was nothing. I just want to see him well.” And with that, he left, carefully closing the door behind him.
The room fell into complete silence, interrupted only by the calm breathing of the younger one sleeping. With the utmost care, Satoru adjusted himself better, sitting on the edge of the bed, back against the headboard, ensuring he didn’t stop stroking his child’s hair beside him. Once he was fully settled, Megumi instinctively curled up against him, letting out a contented sigh. Gojo cooed at the sight.
“Sleep well, my blessing. I’ll be here when you wake up.”
True to his word, when Megumi woke up, he found Gojo still by his side.
The older man was in the same position as the day before, except without his uniform jacket, which was neatly folded on the black-haired boy’s desk. The older man was attentively reading something on his phone, which, from his position, Megumi could make out as an article. The younger one, sue him, tried to see what it was about, but the moment he read the word "particles," he gave up instantly. Because yes, Gojo was an idiot most of the time, but he was an idiot who read articles about advanced physics as if they were child bedtime stories.
“You can read it if you want, but if I have to explain quantum entanglement to you, you’ll get an even worse headache.”
Right, Six Eyes. “I’ll pass.”
Placing his phone on Megumi’s desk, Satoru gently stood up from the bed. Megumi couldn’t help but wince in guilt as he heard the older man’s bones crack, though Gojo looked at him with a grin from ear to ear. “My little blessing, how are you feeling?”
With his cheeks flushed from the nickname, the younger one tried to sit up in bed. Tried, because every limb ached as if he had been training for hours without rest. He decided to be honest. “My whole body hurts.”
“Mm, that’ll teach you not to go on missions when you’re sick.”
“It wasn’t that bad,” the younger one mumbled. However, he stopped immediately upon seeing the now serious expression on the older man’s face. It was rare for Gojo to get serious about anything. All those moments, however, achieved the same result—making Megumi lower his head like a scolded child. Just like now.
In the blink of an eye, Megumi found Gojo crouched beside the bed, brushing his hair back from his forehead to look into his eyes. “Yes, it was.” Instinctively, the younger one leaned into the touch, drawing a smile from the older man. “Today, you’re resting. No training, okay?”
Megumi nodded, knowing it was impossible to argue. Satoru pressed a small kiss to his forehead, satisfied, then stood up again, grabbing both his phone and jacket as he headed toward the door.
“I’ll go let Itadori know you’re awake. He came by earlier to see if you were up so he could make you breakfast.” Megumi’s cheeks turned a deep red. If Gojo said anything about it, Megumi would just claim he still had a fever. “Oh, I also need to hand out everyone’s souvenirs—if Kugisaki hasn’t found them already. If she touched my sweets, I swear—”
“Dad.”
With his hand on the already half-open door, the older man turned as if on instinct. “Yes, Gumi?”
“T-Thank you, for taking care of me. For… always taking care of me, even if I don’t tell you.”
Megumi saw the soft smile on the older man’s face, along with his now trembling hand on the doorknob. The elder one sniffed. “You don’t have to thank me for anything, sweetheart. It’s my pleasure. I’ll always be there for you, my blessing.”
A little over half an hour later, when Megumi managed to gather enough strength to take a quick shower, Itadori appeared at his door, tray in hand with what seemed to be breakfast for three. The green-eyed boy couldn’t ignore the ginger cookies on one of the many plates on the tray.
The next day, none of the students questioned why Gojo-sensei was carrying tissues in his pockets, nor his constant sneezing or red nose. But Itadori didn’t miss how Megumi showed up that afternoon with two boxes of kikufuku in his hands.