Chapter Text
It is three months after his grandfather's death that Yuuji loses his house. It had been inevitable. Between using savings for Wasuke's hospice and the forever late-paid utilities, it wasn't long until envelopes stamped with 'FINAL WARNING' began homing themselves on the doorstep. The heating ceased, the taps ran dry, and Yuuji knew to call the realtor when the light switches' only use was to make a bitter clicking sound. In cold darkness, with a phone barely clinging to its final ten percent, he made the decision to sell the house. He took the first offer - a price so low it should've been criminal - and packed his things.
★
Megumi is six years old, knee-deep in his father's disappearance, when a white-haired man with expensive sunglasses stops him in the streets. He mentions something about Megumi looking like his father and the statement leaves a sour residue on their first impression. With little delicacy, Megumi cuts him off: "I don't wanna hear about him."
"Oh." The man blinks, then sticks a hand out. "I'm Gojo, your Godfather. Nice to meet you."
Megumi stares, unaccepting of the formality. "...Okay."
Gojo grins. "How d'you feel about living in Tokyo?"
★
After a month in a hotel, the choice between food and shelter becomes unavoidable for Yuuji. Bed or breakfast; he cannot afford both.
He hadn't been going to school. Not only because waking felt heavier with each passing day, but because he daren't tell them of his current predicament. None of the resolutions they could provide sounded kind. A group home, foster care, relocation. As unideal as living on the streets appeared, Yuuji was still tangled in his grief. The thought of company, or surrogate parents in an unfamiliar home, was leaving an awful taste in his mouth. The loss was still thick in his throat, and to allow life to move on whilst he was unable to spit it out would suffocate him. He just needed time to let the sorrow simmer.
And, packing his bag on the last morning of his stay, the streets were still at arm's length. It seemed a better alternative to what anyone could offer. He was naïve, buttered with inexperience, and the horror of the outside world would eventually sink its teeth into him. But, for now, it sounded like a good enough idea.
★
Tokyo isn't too bad, Megumi thinks. I can live with this. He flicks his eyes to Gojo, who animatedly tours Tsumiki around the kitchen. Him, however...
Later, as the sun tucks itself beneath the horizon, Megumi stares at the ceiling. The light leaks through the window. Orange mellowing to pink to purple to blue. Everything in this room is blue. Gojo is clearly not gifted in his design skills. The sheets are synthetically new and the desk chair still has a price tag on it. The white noise of traffic bleeds in from each crevice it can find.
A part of him regrets silencing Gojo when they had first met. It was true that he had not wanted to hear about Toji a week ago but, in this new cocoon of foreign care, Megumi is desperate to know what separates Gojo from his predecessor. How is it that Toji can disappear but Gojo can travel hours to find them? That Toji could leave not even a note but Gojo has carved out a space for them in a house they were never meant to inhabit?
Why are you doing this? Megumi had asked at dinner.
...Because I'm your Godfather, Gojo said simply.
He mulled that answer, wondered what it meant. If a title is enough to plant responsibility, if a name is enough to provoke obligation, then what did it mean that his biological father had left? The question poked at his chest. It left a feeling too vague to articulate until now, in bed, when he can almost see it etched into the paint: What made him leave?
And, more importantly: Was it me?
★
A week in the cold, his sleeping bag rain-soaked, and Yuuji's hopelessness becomes overbearing. To say he had been ignorant to homelessness would be a nicety. His hair was already becoming matted, the dirt on his face feels like a second skin, his hands were incapable of stillness. He remained coddled against the pavement by soggy fabric, hoping to be lulled by the sound of cars passing over the bridge he slept beneath.
★
Life at Gojo's passed gently enough. But, no matter how many years went by, it always felt exactly like that. Gojo's. Gojo's house, Gojo's food, Gojo's life. Each morning Megumi woke up feeling like a guest, like his position in this place was dictated by what Gojo allowed. It wasn't fuelled by anything Gojo had said or done. In fact, he wilted every time Megumi othered himself.
C'mon, Megumi, it's your home, too! Gojo would whine. ...Am I too overbearing? Is that the problem? Do you wanna have the place to yourself for a bit for it to feels like yours? I can stay at Geto's for the weekend and leave you here alone. How old are you, now? Eleven? I can leave an eleven year old alone, right?
Still, this stability felt precarious. It was as if he was waiting for Gojo to click his fingers and be done with them. He supposes every child must worry about being abandoned once or twice. Perhaps losing a parent in a supermarket, or being left to wait in the car whilst they run an errand. The thought must creep in: What if they don't come back?
The issue for Megumi was that Gojo's hypothetical change of heart didn't feel like a matter of if, but when. When will Gojo grow tired of them, and what will Megumi do to make him feel that way?
★
Two weeks in the cold and, beneath a different bridge, Yuuji is woken by a wet, sharp touch to the cheek. It had been a late night with below freezing temperatures and a wonderfully-timed snowstorm. He shoots his eyes open, blinking away the frost from his lashes, and meets the glare of a cat. It is an odd shade of orange that borders on pink and black stripes mark it in a perfect pattern. It hisses as if Yuuji is in its way.
"Hey--" Yuuji starts, only to be interrupted by three claws swiping over his skin. "Ow! You little shit--!" And once again over his jaw.
Yuuji sits up, vaguely swatting the creature away. He slips out of his sleeping bag, scoops it up, swings his rucksack over his shoulder, and takes five steps backwards. He waits for the cat to reveal whatever it was that Yuuji was a roadblock to, but, instead, it follows him, sits by his feet, and hisses again.
"...I have no food," Yuuji says. Even if he did have the money, he wasn't sure buying this thing a snack was anything close to smart.
The cat steps closer and rubs its head against Yuuji's shin. He tenses at the contact yet, for the first time in nearly a month, breaks into a gentle smile. Leaning down, he pets its surprisingly soft head and is promptly bitten on the hand.
"What the fuck?!" He backs away. Once again, he is followed. "You've got a problem, man."
It looks up at him and meows proudly. The movement affords Yuuji a clear view of its neck. Furthermore, the small collar around it. He crouches down to another hiss but tilts his head and reads the name aloud.
"Su... Sukuna?"
The cat meows in affirmation.
"Huh, you're a house pet?" Yuuji reaches out cautiously. After several attempts and multiple scratches, he memorises the number on the back of the tag. "Let's get you home."
Sukuna follows him to a payphone and continues scratching, biting, and rubbing against Yuuji's ankles as he stamps the digits in. He finds himself scared at the dial tone. It had been weeks since he spoke to someone who wasn't working a cash register. And, when the static clicks on the other end, he feels oddly unbalanced.
"Hello? ...Hello? Who is this?"
Yuuji clears his throat. "Yeah-- Sorry, hi. I'm Itadori. I found your cat, I think, and--"
"No! We don't want him. That thing is the devil!"
Sukuna meows innocently by his heels.
"He's your problem, now. I'm so sorry. Goodbye."
Yuuji blinks as the line disconnects. He was hoping for a little more. Perhaps a conversation, an address, to be a visitor to someone. To be someone to anyone. He looks down at Sukuna.
Realistically, Yuuji knows he has been alone. He thought that was what he wanted. It was what he had wanted. The loss of his grandfather was isolating. The inside of him was frozen solid whilst everyone else remained thawed. The contrast was more painful than the cold itself. So he removed the contrast. Made the outside match the inside and feel if not happy then coherent.
Now, with time being the balm it is, he is becoming something of a human again. His grief is ever-present but growing blunt. His grandfather never would have wanted him to mope, and he's felt guilty for doing so. His world is off-kilter again and his aloneness has mutated into loneliness. He huffs.
"We can be friends if you're nice to me."
Sukuna hisses.
"Yeah, beggars can't be choosers."
★
At sixteen, Tsumiki falls into a coma, and fourteen-year-old Megumi is reminded all too cruelly of what it means to be left. The feeling of her hand unresponsive reminds him of waiting for the front door to open. His unreciprocated conversations brings memories of checking the master bedroom to find it still empty. It is not that he had forgotten what it meant to be abandoned - he remembers all the unaccompanied walks to school and the empty cabinets; he still has nightmares of vacant chairs at the dinner table - but he had most definitely forgotten how sharp it feels.
Abandonment will forever apply to him. His father leaving cannot be undone by time or indifference. Though, to be abandoned is different from feeling abandoned. Despite his worry of Gojo's possible severance, he supposes the threat was never truly convincing enough, because this feeling had faded.
In the depths of Tsumiki's sleep, Megumi finds himself six years old again. Small, young, and left.
★
Three weeks outside and a scratch-littered Yuuji sits on the pavement with Sukuna sleeping in his lap. A shadow passes over him, followed by a level voice asking, "What are you doing?"
Yuuji looks up, squinting in the afternoon sun that Sukuna had insisted they rest in. His vision adjusts and he sees a blonde man in a suit and frankly hideous tie staring down at him. Yuuji has primarily stayed out of public view, finding mostly back alleys and hidden streets to rest in. However, even when he does pass amongst people, most resign to averting their eyes. Yuuji is dirty, obviously exhausted, and overtly in need. With everyone's desire to be unburdened by guilt, Yuuji has become ignored.
The stunned silence must drag because the man repeats himself.
Yuuji blinks out of his haze. "Uh-- Sorry, can you lower your voice?"
"What?"
"Please don't wake the cat."
The man looks down to Yuuji's lap where Sukuna twitches in his dream state. As ridiculous as he clearly finds the situation, he obliges, and, quieter, says, "Okay. Still, what are you doing?"
"I'm...sitting."
"That much I can see."
"Oh, yeah." After a month in solitude, he finds himself struggling with conversation. He's too tired to feel embarrassed.
"Why are you sitting?"
"The cat wanted to be in the sun."
"You always listen to the cat?"
"I have no other choice."
"It's only a cat. It cannot force you."
Yuuji nods. "That's what I thought."
The man looks around and then sighs before sitting beside Yuuji resolutely. There's a healthy two feet between them but the proximity sets Yuuji's want alight. Someone is here, talking to him. He is being seen, heard, perceived. He had not noticed how faded he felt. The realisation thrums through him like a livewire and he finds himself sitting up a little straighter.
"I meant," The man continues, "Why are you sitting here?"
Yuuji opens his mouth--
"Don't say the cat."
--And closes it.
"...Most people would sit in a garden, no? Or a park, perhaps? Not a dirty pavement."
Yuuji doesn't say that this is, in fact, one of the cleaner pavements he's recently been privy to.
"And, not to overstep my mark, but I've seen you before. Only briefly." He admits this with a level of shame. "And you look worse each time I see you."
Yuuji chuckles weakly. "Thank you, that's kind."
"I only mean it out of concern."
"I'm okay." The words come out on instinct, as empty and unnecessary as the entrance alert that rings alongside an opened convenience store door. Neither of them believe the statement.
The man rests his chin on his hand. "May I know your name?"
"No."
He raises his eyebrows in surprise. "Why not?"
"You'll call the police."
"Will I?"
"I'm too young to be--" He stops himself short but the man catches on.
"Ah," He says. "So you are homeless."
"No," Yuuji mutters, with all the delicacy of a bull in a china shop.
"And you'll be put in care if I report this situation."
Reluctantly, Yuuji nods. A part of him should run if he wants to maintain his freedom. The logical, adult thing to do is to flag Yuuji to the police. This man will do that, surely, and yet Yuuji does not move. Not for exhaustion, not for threat of Sukuna's wrath, but simply for the need to be spoken to. To have someone look in his eyes and confirm he is not invisible.
And this man does just that. "You don't want to be in care?"
"I don't want a new family," Yuuji says firmly. "I don't want a new home. I don't want a group house with rules and a curfew. I just-- I... I need somewhere."
A fleeting look of worry crosses the man's face. "Can you not work?"
"A couple more months until I'm old enough."
That flicker calcifies into mortification. "You're fifteen?"
Yuuji chews the inside of his cheek. "I said I was too young."
"You're a child," The man says incredulously.
"Well, that's a little condescending--"
"How long have you been on the streets?"
"Nearly a month."
"In winter?"
"Yes."
The man stares with a look that feels hollowing. "Come with me."
Yuuji tenses so harshly that wakes Sukuna, who hisses and buries his claws into Yuuji's thigh. He hardly feels it through the fear. "I'm not going to a police station."
"I won't make you."
Frowning, Yuuji settles. "Then...where?"
"My home."
He deadpans. "I'm not an idiot. Stranger danger and all."
"You either let me help you, or I call the police. I'm not allowing this to continue."
"Blackmail?"
"I'm worried for your safety," The man states defeatedly.
"I just need a little time and then I can get a job, and I'll be good."
The man looks him down and sees what the absence of a mirror has spared Yuuji the sight of. Emaciation, stress, sickness. When he speaks, his voice is both concrete and frail, desperate for Yuuji to understand the gravity of the situation whilst feeling terrified of it himself. "You won't live that long."
It is so blunt that Yuuji's breath catches. He smothers the heaviness of it with a mumbled, "I'll die quicker if I go with you."
The man levels him a glare. "I'm not a serial killer."
"I don't know you, so I can't trust you--"
"I'm Nanami Kento, twenty-seven, working at a university in Natori." He pulls a lanyard from an inside pocket of his blazer and holds it up for Yuuji to read. "I teach economics and have no interest in killing teenagers."
Yuuji laughs, light and unfamiliar. "You put that on your resumé?"
"I might have to if you're telling me I look like the type."
He tilts his head. "Lil' bit."
Nanami nods. "Will you let me help you?"
It takes a moment for Yuuji to battle with logic. This seems sincere and Nanami is, unfortunately, right. He hasn't had a genuine meal in weeks, he is hardly sleeping, he is one cold night away from hypothermia. He could take his chances now or rot on a pavement a month down the line. He stands, Sukuna in his arms, and nods. "Yeah, okay--"
Sukuna clambers to Yuuji's shoulders and hisses at Nanami.
Nanami narrows his eyes at it. "I'll train that thing."
Yuuji scoffs. "I'd love to see you try."
★
When Gojo tells Megumi that Geto is moving into their home, Megumi assumes that he is being told to leave. In hindsight, he will always see it as simultaneously overreactive and logical. What a stupid thing to derive from such a statement, yet why would he assume anything but the worst? To live is to be left, he knows this, so he nods at Gojo with all the same nonchalance he usually does and returns to his room. As he packs his shirts into the same suitcase he first brought here, he is surprised to find that he feels nothing. His heart only ticks in the wretched pattern of I told...You so. He finishes packing as Gojo calls from within the house, "I'm gonna go help Geto pack!"
Megumi never responds and Gojo always slams the door too hard.
Alone, he walks through the house, suitcase in tow, and collects stray bits of money Gojo has left laying around. It is late when he leaves. The sky borders on black. The nearest hotel has a bed that reminds him of his first night at Gojo's. Foreign and impersonal. Megumi a ghost that will eventually drift someplace else. He never truly believed it would last. Gojo never planned for Megumi. At some point, he would want to get on with his life. A life that had never been structured with Megumi in mind.
When the morning comes, Megumi's phone is dead and his charger has clearly been forgotten at home. He passes through his day in a numb detachment until, upon standing outside the electronics store, he is struck out of his haze by a strong collision.
"Holy fuck, Megumi!" Gojo chastises, breathless and weak. His arms are tight, too tight, around Megumi. He lets go to scan over Megumi's face. "Are you okay?"
Shock fuses in Megumi when he sees just how scared Gojo is. It is an alien look on him. His eyes are wide, hands shaky, a storm of purple brewing beneath his lash line. His eyes gloss over as he holds Megumi's face.
"Where the hell have you been?"
Megumi wiggles out of his grasp. "I went away."
"Why?"
He tilts his head. "You told me to."
Gojo frowns. "What? No, I would never do that."
"Yes, you said Geto was moving in," Megumi says. "So I left."
"That--" Gojo looks at him sadly. "That didn't mean you were being kicked out. I meant he was moving in with us."
Megumi stares dumbly, head still foggy. "Oh."
Gojo pulls him back in. "I'd never ask you to leave," He says softly. "You're my s-- family, Megumi. I'll always want you here."
It is at those words that Megumi feels it. It is as though he has been tipped from a great height, and he hiccups as he tries to swallow down his emotion. He returns Gojo's hug and cries quietly, ignoring whatever Gojo says to him.
Only when given the security of home does the weight of being left hit him. Prior to this, Gojo had never outright confirmed he wanted Megumi. He had told Megumi to make himself at home, but never that he was happy for that to happen. Megumi assumed it was obligation that would eventually fall through, as it did with Toji.
But, for the second time in his life, Gojo came looking for him with enough conviction to find him.
"Come home," Gojo whispers. "I don't wanna move in Geto's stuff by myself."
★
Yuuji is shocked when Nanami lets him stay. He had figured he was going to be offered a meal and a shower, not a homestead. When he expresses his surprise, Nanami gives him a concerned look. "I did not want you homeless and you are shocked that my solution to that was to give you a home...?"
Yuuji averts his eyes. "Well, when you put it like that..."
Nanami is kinder than Yuuji had expected. He feels no offence when Yuuji doesn't sleep in the bed they had bought the day after he moved in. He simply asks why and, when Yuuji says he isn't used to a non-concrete mattress anymore, brings him a blanket. He doesn't complain when Yuuji leaves his bedroom window open, letting the heat escape, because he can no longer sleep without the sound of traffic. He lets Yuuji adjust with no objection. It is bittersweet.
Unlike Yuuji, Sukuna feels no guilt in the taken up space. He lounges on the couch, makes playthings of Nanami's ties, steals into the pantry shamelessly. Yuuji envies him, wishing he could shelve the terrible feeling of liability. It only worsen when Nanami grows more fond of Yuuji. Their movie nights foster a more familiar dynamic. The way Nanami lets Yuuji sit in on his lectures makes him feel prioritised. Yet the more Nanami cares for Yuuji, the more Yuuji feels like he has to earn it.
When Nanami buys Sukuna a cat tree, Yuuji does the laundry. When Nanami takes Yuuji furniture shopping, Yuuji cooks dinner for two weeks. When Nanami enrols him in a nearby school, Yuuji cleans the house top to bottom. The pattern must have been noticed because, as Yuuji is scrubbing the floor on his knees, Nanami leans against the kitchen doorframe with a worried look on his face. Yuuji meets his eyes quickly, sees the way they're figuring him out, and tenses.
"Itadori-Kun," Nanami says.
"Just a minute." Yuuji speeds his cleaning. "I'm nearly done."
Nanami raises an eyebrow. "Itadori, stop."
"Nope." He shakes his head hurriedly. "No, just-- Let me do this, okay?"
Nanami begins to step towards him. "Stop cleaning for a second."
"I'm almost finished, Nanami-San, let me--"
He crouches down. "Yuuji--"
Yuuji's arm starts to burn with the velocity of his scrubbing. "I got it, okay? I--"
Nanami grabs his hand, stopping the movement. Refusing to look at him, Yuuji feels his eyes heat, vision going wet and blurry.
"Stop cleaning," Nanami says gently.
Yuuji sniffles. "No, I can do it."
"I don't want you to."
"...What do you want me to do?"
"Nothing."
"I... I can clean, I can cook-- I'll do whatever I need to, alright? I-- If this is annoying, I can do it whilst you're at work, or- Or--"
"Slow down, Yuuji, breathe--"
"Do you-- Do you wanna use the kitchen? Is that the problem? I'll move, I can-- I'll dry the floor and come back, later, but--"
"I don't want you to clean the kitchen."
Yuuji looks up at him, breath far too quick and head feeling dizzy.
Nanami inhales to steady himself as unease bleeds into his expression. "...Why are you cleaning?"
"Because I...can," Yuuji says weakly.
"Because you think you have to?"
Yuuji winces. "I- I don't feel forced, I just don't wanna take all this for granted, y'know--"
"You're not taking anything for granted," Nanami assures. "I asked you to be here. The only thing I want is that you accept my help."
Yuuji stares at him cluelessly. He asks, breathless, "Why?"
Nanami thinks it over, mulls the thoughts until they sound right, and says, "I became a teacher because the most gratifying thing to do is to help people. Teaching itself is a simple help, and I didn't expect the job to be so personal beyond that, but it was. I've met many kids in situations similar to your own. If there's one thing I've learnt, it's that children don't end up in your circumstance by anything other than bad luck, and children don't deserve failed potential simply because they didn't get lucky. I don't think that's fair. That is why I initially helped you, and, as unexpected as it is, I have grown quite fond of you. All I want is what's best for you."
Yuuji wipes his eyes. "That's it?"
"That's it." Nanami nods. "...And I want you to go to school."
Giving a nod in return, Yuuji breathes. "So... So you don't want me to clean?"
"I want you to clean if you want to clean," He says. "Not because you think you owe it to me. You owe me nothing. I chose to take care of you, that's on me."
Yuuji gives him a look that must be obviously sceptical.
"Trust me or don't." Nanami stands. "But I am not going to kick you out. I'm not going to leave you stranded. You're not a tenant to me, Yuuji-Kun, I'm happy for you to be here."
Yuuji also stands, and starts when Nanami claps him on the shoulder. It is currently the closest thing they will get to a hug and Yuuji is content with it.
"If anyone needs to feel guilty for being here," Nanami says. "It's that cat."
Yuuji laughs softly. "I warned you."
"Yes, you did."
★
At seventeen, Megumi is given a tour of the university Gojo works at by the man himself. He would have preferred to go to the open evening alone but Gojo insisted it would be far too busy, instead dragging him along in the midst of an average work day. Thus, Megumi is faced with the reason he rarely goes anywhere with Gojo. His minor celebrity status as a physicist causes them to be stopped every five minutes. Eventually, after being forced to interact with the tenth person he has no interest in, Megumi subtly slips from Gojo's side and finds the biology department.
Past bustling classrooms, Megumi arrives at an office holding two people. One he recognises. Shoko, another unfortunate victim of Gojo's company. The other, a blonde man in a suit and revolting tie. Shoko notices Megumi by the doorway and waves him in. Smirking, she says, "Nanami, let me introduce you to Gojo's pride and joy."
Megumi scrunches his nose. "Don't call me that."
"Fushiguro, I assume?" The man asks, holding out his hand.
Nodding, Megumi shakes it, studying his face and the name Shoko called him. Though older, he looks familiar from the endless photo albums Gojo has at home. "Nanami, if I heard correct?"
Nanami hums in confirmation. "Yes, Gojo's told me a lot about you."
"You live around here?"
"No, but he tracked down my number, so I'm still stuck with him."
Shoko lights a cigarette by the open window. "Can't say he's not committed."
"He told me you're going to be studying here?" Nanami asks.
"He assumes," Megumi sighs, then admits, "But it does have a good track record for biology, so..."
"Fushiguro-Kun wants to be a vet." Shoko shoots Nanami a playful glance. "If he gets good enough, he can take a look at that cat of yours."
Megumi feels his interest pique. "What's wrong with your cat?"
She laughs. "From what I've heard, what isn't?"
"My--" Nanami thinks for a second before resigning. "My son brought him home a couple years ago."
Shoko grins. "Your son--"
"Is the cat healthy?" Megumi asks, concerned.
"Oh, he's perfectly happy," Nanami assures. "He just happens to be evil."
Megumi lets out a surprised scoff. "Evil?"
"I thought it ridiculous at first, too," Nanami says gravely.
Smothering his smile, Megumi just nods in agreement.
"And your son," Shoko says, a private endearment to her tone. "Will he be joining us here, next year?"
"I have my job offer here," Nanami considers. "And he's on track for a sports scholarship with his school of choice. I'll have to ask him, of course..."
"But no downside to transferring?" Shoko asks.
Nanami begins to shake his head but halts, saying, "Well, only Gojo."
★
Yuuji can feel Nanami's tension from across the table. The stiffness of his shoulders, the way he pokes at his good a little too bluntly. It makes Yuuji restless enough to ignore Sukuna nibbling at his ankles. When, finally, Nanami places his fork down, the clatter makes Yuuji wince and he prepares himself with a deep breath.
"Yuuji-Kun--"
"Are you gonna ask me to leave?"
Nanami blinks. "What?"
"You seem...anxious." Which is terrifying, Yuuji neglects to add.
Frowning, Nanami pushes his plate aside and Yuuji braces. "...I wanted to ask what you thought about Tokyo?"
Yuuji kicks Sukuna away. "Tokyo...?"
"Yes, I got a job offer at a university, there."
He feels as if the floor has been swept from beneath him. Nanami is kicking him out. His mind spins through the possibilities. He was told to focus on school so he never got a job, but surely Nanami wouldn't leave him penniless. He can stay at a hotel whilst working, yet--
"And I thought that with your scholarship, it wouldn't be a bad place for you to go to school," Nanami continues. "It has an incredible track field, but I understand is you want to see it for yourself, first. I can take you. I know a few of the teachers already, and they're incredibly good at what they do. You could even join my class-- Yuuji, why are you crying?"
★
"I enrolled at Gojo's school." Megumi taps Tsumiki's hand. "I know, terrible idea, but I think the departments have enough rooms to hide from him."
The heart monitor beeps like a dripping tap.
"I need some pretty high grades to get in, but I know what you'd say--"
Tsumiki's voice echoes in his head: You're smarter than you need to be.
"--So... With exams coming up, Gojo's been walking the dogs. They come back exhausted. I think he goes to the south park rather than the north one. I should say something, shouldn't I?"
Still, after so many years, the stale smell of chemicals has remained pointed. So has the silence. Tsumiki was always the talker of the two, and, even in her absence, Gojo fills the quiet. Megumi appreciates the noise. It balances out his preferred wordlessness. He listens better than he conversates. But, here, sound is so still.
The bed lets out a mechanical hum as it shifts to oxygenate the mattress. He presses his forehead to the railings stuck to the frame, headache mitigated by the smooth cold. Breathy enough to barely surpass a whisper, he says, "Wake up--"
"Excuse me, Fushiguro-San." A rap at the door. "Visiting hours cease in ten minutes."
★
After a week in Tokyo, Nanami tells Yuuji that they have guests coming over for dinner. It is midday and the morning wasn't enough to dull the pain Yuuji has acquired from sleeping on the couch. His new bedroom is still being painted, leaving his own bed covered in a sheet. Sukuna is unimpressed by the lacking lavish but Yuuji thinks it will do well to humble him.
"Who?" Yuuji asks, trying to massage the stiffness out of his neck.
"A colleague," Nanami says, reserved, back to Yuuji as he makes himself lunch. "Or a friend. However you want to look at it."
Yuuji stares in disbelief. "You have friends?"
"What do you mean by that?"
"Well, I've never met them."
"Consider yourself lucky."
"See! That's what I mean. You're hardly...friendly."
Nanami ignores him. "I have told them about you, though."
Yuuji frowns, thinking of how often Nanami spent nights away visiting unnamed people. After complaining about travel fees, Yuuji had told Nanami that he had no issue with someone staying at their house. He had even offered to make himself scarce. Still, the house remained inhabited by only the two of them. "But they didn't want to meet me?"
Shaking his head, Nanami sighs. "No, they asked plenty of times. I was the one who didn't want them around you."
A mix of embarrassment and offence congeals in Yuuji's chest. He knew he wasn't perfect but never did he think Nanami held so little pride for him. With the way his face heats, he is glad Nanami isn't looking at him. Humiliation weakens him and he leans against the kitchen counter. Then, he pauses. Nanami has said he told his friends about Yuuji. Without them visiting, Yuuji would have been easy to hide. Why would Nanami expose Yuuji's existence if he had been ashamed of him?
"As excessive as it may have been," Nanami continues. "I didn't want to distress you."
Yuuji blinks. "Distress me?"
"Yes," Nanami says. "When I found you, I was worried about taking care of you. I asked one of my friends who had also adopted for some advice. He had asked to meet you then, but, since you were so fragile at the time, I declined. Then you got better over time but I still worried and continued to decline."
Feeling warmed by the care, Yuuji smiles. "What changed?"
"He works at the university you'll be going to," Nanami huffs regretfully. "You'll meet him sooner or later, I'd rather be here to keep him in check."
Yuuji laughs at the precaution. "You don't think I can handle him?"
Finally turning to look at him, Nanami gives him a grave stare. "Do not underestimate the terror of Gojo Satoru, Yuuji. Prepare yourself."
"Ooh, a name!" Yuuji claps his hands excitedly. "Gojo? Is he your best friend?"
"Not a chance."
"Nevertheless, no need to worry, Nanamin. I've had enough experience with Sukuna to handle anything."
Nanami perks up in remembrance. "Oh, yes, he is bringing his son. Well, godson. He's your age. He's going to be studying veterinary sciences, so perhaps he can help us tame Sukuna."
Yuuji smirks. "Good luck to him."
★
With the twenty minute walk it takes to get to Nanami's house, Megumi achingly starts to miss the quiet. It is not the first time Gojo has voiced his frustrations about not being able to meet Nanami's son - "You don't understand, Megumi; Nanami with a kid! If I don't meet him, I'll die!" - but, with the excitement of finally being able to make acquaintances with him, Gojo hasn't shut up the entire journey.
And, admittedly, Gojo's fascination has also tugged on Megumi's interest.
He's sort of like you, from what I've heard, Gojo had said the night before. He was homeless when Nanami found him. I'm not sure how he ended up like that. I barely know anything about him. Nanami's very protective... Wow, I never thought I'd say that.
Megumi has never been overly keen on the idea of making new friends. His small circle of anyone Maki gets along with is enough for him. Yet it'd be a lie to say he hasn't longed for someone to truly relate to. He used to have Tsumiki, but now his abandon has been confined to solitude. He isn't sure if he will even get along with Nanami's son, though the opportunity for understanding is enticing, and Megumi feels the thrill in each step up to the door. Admittedly, the idea of meeting the world's most evil cat may also be playing a part in the anticipation.
Gojo knocks and hardly ten seconds pass before the door flies open. The boy is slightly shorter than Megumi, hair dyed an obnoxious pink, and a wide grin plastered over his face. His eyes are almond, lit with anticipation and underline by faint scars. They linger on Megumi for a moment before turning to Gojo.
"Nanamin's friend?" He asks.
Gojo beams. "He called me that?"
Megumi rolls his eyes. "Don't sound so surprised."
"I'm Gojo." He sticks out his hand and the boy shakes it. "And this is Fushiguro."
"Itadori," The boy says, stepping aside for them to enter. "Come in."