Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Weekdays were Gojo’s days.

Nanami’s were Fridays to Sundays. 

But Gojo didn’t really like Mondays.

You learned that early on, when you had just turned 11- a year after they took you in. Back then, you bounced between his room at Jujutsu High and Nanami’s apartment when he left the society. There was nothing exciting about it, and they dreaded it. Fridays to Sundays were Nanami’s; They were very quiet nights, quiet dinners that felt forced, and almost no talking.

But once you were enrolled at Jujutsu High full-time, that arrangement ended. You moved into the dorms. Nanami stopped visiting, and Gojo stopped pretending.

Now, whatever you do isn’t their problem, it’s Yaga’s. As if Gojo isn’t your teacher.

You’re sitting in the corner of one of the training halls, stretched out on the cold floor, listening to the faint slap of Panda’s footsteps as he runs drills alone. Yaga is on the other side of the building dealing with a cursed item report. You’d offered to help earlier. He told you to sit tight.

So you’ve been sitting.

The tile is cool beneath your legs. The fluorescent lights hum overhead. You’ve counted the ceiling panels twice already, counted how many mistakes Nobara made, how many times Megumi glanced over, how many times Yuuji flashed you a grin.

Your cursed energy shifts under your skin, dying to use it. You wonder if Gojo will remember to check in today. He probably won’t. Definitely, actually.

He always says he’s busy.

Busy having fun Yuuji.

Busy training Megumi

Busy making sure Nobara’s not committing some sort of crime.

You, though? He’s not concerned with you, he couldn’t care. He thinks you’re too much, even though you’re the exact opposite. You kinda give a carbon copy of Megumi, but a girl version, and less people care about you.

And yet at the same time, you’re just like you’re brother. That’s what gets Gojo- that’s what gets them all.

Haibara.

The name still makes your chest feel like it’s been split open. You don’t talk about him. No one really does, not even Gojo, and especially not Nanami.

But you see it, in the way Nanami flinches when you laugh too loudly. In the way he walks out of a room when your expression slips into something too familiar. It’s like being haunted by your own face.

Footsteps echo from the hallway. You sit up a little straighter.

Gojo’s voice spills in first, too loud for the quiet space you’re in.

“Yuuji! That cursed spirit didn’t know what hit it, huh? Proud of you, man.”

Yuuji says something back, muffled, grinning. You can hear Nobara laugh. Then Megumi’s quieter voice, the even tone of someone used to being in the background.

They’re walking past.

You don’t expect them to stop. They never do.

Gojo walks by the open doors and doesn’t even glance inside.

He knows you’re here. You saw the flicker of recognition.

He just keeps going.

Panda pauses his training, looking toward the hallway, then glances back at you.

“Want to do a few rounds?” he offers, voice gentle.

You shake your head. “I’m fine.”

It’s not a lie, not exactly. You’re used to this. Used to being the leftover kid. The one Gojo checks in on when he remembers, the one the first-years sort of know but don’t really talk to. You’re not quite a senpai. Not really a teammate either.

Just a ghost in your brother’s shadow.

You’re gathering your things when someone steps through the door behind you.

It’s Megumi.

He doesn’t say anything right away, just holds out something-your hoodie.

“You left this,” he mutters, eyes flicking away like he’s embarrassed to be the one delivering it.

You didn’t even realize it was gone.

“Thanks,” you say, quiet.

He hesitates. Just a second. Then–

“They were going to leave without you. I told them to wait.”

You don’t know what to say to that.

So you nod, and for once, you let yourself feel it; just a little warmth, just enough to hold.

The warmth lingers longer than it should. You busy yourself by shoving the hoodie into your bag, acting like you don’t notice the way Megumi hasn’t left yet.

He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, awkward but unmoving, like he’s trying to say something and can’t find the words.

You finally glance at him.  “What?”

His brows knit, defensive even though you weren’t sharp. “Nothing. Just… you should come next time. With us. Instead of staying here.”

The suggestion lands heavier than he means it to. With us. As if you belong there, folded neatly between Yuuji’s laughter and Nobara’s fire, with Gojo trailing behind like he doesn’t forget you exist. You want to tell him that’s not how it works. That Gojo doesn’t want you there, not really, not when your face feels like a ghost pressed against his shoulder.

Megumi knows that. Yet he is looking at you like he actually expects an answer, so you swallow the words.  “Maybe,” 

He nods once, like that’s enough, and finally turns to go. But just before he slips out the door, he pauses. “Don’t forget your hoodie next time.”

You don’t smile, but your grip tightens around the fabric.

Chapter Text

You’ve noticed him watching you more lately. Not in a weird way, more like a careful way. From the corner of your eye, you catch glimpses of Megumi leaning against doorframes, tilting his head as you practice in the training halls against Maki.

Sometimes it’s small things. You reach for your water bottle and find another one tucked neatly in your bag; the one you thought you’d forgotten on the table. You know it’s him. Only Megumi would notice, only Megumi would care enough

When you stay late to practice your cursed technique, he lingers, never stepping in, never offering help unless you actually ask. And when you do, he knows exactly how to guide you

Lunch is quieter than usual today. You notice an extra bento box sitting across from you at the table. No note, just a small smile when your eyes meet his across the cafeteria. 

Even in the chaos of Gojo’s antics, Nobara’s teasing, and Yuuji’s constant noise, Megumi finds you.

It’s not romantic…you think. But it’s a quiet kind of protection, a soft thread tying him to you in ways no one else seems to bother. And though you try not to notice it, you do. Every time.

You try not to dwell on it. 

But sometimes, when his shadow stretches across the floor of the training hall, or when you hear the faint rustle of his footsteps behind you on the walk back to the dorms, it lingers. A reminder that someone is paying attention. That someone hasn’t forgotten you.

Megumi doesn’t make it obvious. He never announces it, never lets it turn into a performance like Gojo would. His care slips in through the quiet gaps of the day, unspoken, steady, something you don’t quite know how to hold.

Still, there are moments when it’s harder to ignore.

Like today.

“Hey,” his voice is low, careful, the way it always is when he approaches you. He stands just a little too close to your table, hands shoved into his pockets. “You’re free after training, right?”

You blink at him, “Why?”

His gaze flicks away, landing on something far less interesting than you. The wall, maybe. Or the window. Anything that isn’t your face. “No reason. Thought maybe we could… hang out. Or something.”

“Hang out?” you repeat slowly. “Since when have you ever wanted to hang out with me?”

He shrugs, and you swear you catch the faintest shade of pink brushing across his ears. “Since now, I guess.”

~~~

The two of you step out into the evening air, the campus fading behind you. The streets are quieter than usual, slick with leftover rain.

Megumi walks beside you, shoulders tense as usual, hands buried in his pockets. He doesn’t say much, just falls into step beside you, like he’s making sure you’re okay without actually asking. 

You like how careful he is, like the way he glances at the road ahead before crossing, how he subtly adjusts his pace so you don’t get left behind, how he tilts his head just slightly when a stray breeze tosses your hair across your face.

You end up laughing at something small, a pigeon startling off the curb, and for a moment, Megumi lets his lips twitch upward. 

The walk is slow, comfortable, and you catch yourself wanting it to last longer.

You push the door open and the warm scent of broth hits you first. Megumi hesitates just a second, hand on the doorframe, before stepping in and letting you lead the way. The little bell jingles, and the place feels tiny but welcoming, the kind of shop you’d never notice unless you were looking.

He slides into the booth across from you, eyes flicking around the room. “Table’s fine?” asks.

You nod, giving him a small smile. “It’s perfect.”

When the server comes over, Megumi orders without glancing at you. You raise an eyebrow. “Wait, did you just order for me?"

“I know what you’d get,” he says flatly. His tone makes it sound like he’s annoyed at the idea that you’d question him, but the twitch at the corner of his mouth betrays him.

“Excuse me?” you challenge, leaning forward. “And how exactly would you know?”

He shrugs, looking anywhere but at you. “You always get miso.”

You blink at him. “Always?”

“Always.”

You can’t help the laugh that slips out, short and amused. “You really do pay attention to everything, don’t you?”

His ears twitch faintly pink. “I notice things.”

“You notice things, huh?” you repeat, smirking now. “Like how I burn my noodles in three seconds flat?”

Megumi lifts a single brow, deadpan. “I’ve seen worse.”

You laugh again, louder this time, and he finally lets his gaze meet yours for just a moment. Not long enough to linger, but enough to make your chest twist a little.

When the bowls arrive, you pick up your chopsticks and make a show of blowing on the steam. Megumi mirrors you automatically, and you catch him glancing at your face as he lifts his noodles.

“You going to eat that, or just stare at it all night?” you tease, nudging the bowl toward him.

He snorts softly, almost like he’s trying not to laugh. “I eat. Don’t worry.”

You grin, and for the first time tonight, you feel a little lighter. You steal a quick glance at him, and he’s pretending not to notice, eyes on the bowl, but his hand lingers on the edge of the table a fraction of a second longer than necessary.

“Next time, you’re letting me order,” you say, shoving a piece of pork into your mouth.

He shrugs, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “You probably eat better than I do anyway.”

“Excuse me?” you feign offense, laughing, “I am a professional when it comes to noodles!”

He shakes his head, muttering something you can’t quite hear, but it’s enough to make you laugh again. The warmth from the ramen spreads to your chest, mingling with the strange, quiet happiness that seems to follow him wherever he goes.

~~~

As you step out into the night  the air is cool against your skin. You squint down a side street and spot flickering lights and the faint hum of machines.

“Oh,” you murmur, tugging slightly on Megumi’s sleeve. “There’s an arcade over there. Want to check it out?”

He glances at it, then at you, expression unreadable. “Sure,” he says after a pause, like he’s still weighing the idea.

The door jingles as you push it open, and the smell of popcorn and machine grease hits you immediately. Bright colors, flashing lights, and the clatter of buttons fill the small space. You can’t help the grin tugging at your face.

Megumi steps inside behind you, quiet as always, hands tucked into his pockets. He watches you with that same careful attention he’s had all night, like he’s cataloging every little reaction you have.

You drag him first to the claw machines. “Come on, let’s see if you’re any good at these.”

He hesitates, then sighs. “Fine. Watch and learn,” 

You snicker. “Yeah, yeah,”

The machine hums as he maneuvers the claw with surprising precision. In no time, he has a small plush doll dangling over the prize chute. He drops it in with one smooth motion, then holds it out to you.

You blink. “You… won it?”

He shrugs, still not looking at you. “First try.”

“Show-off,” you mutter, but you take it anyway, hugging it to your chest. His quiet pride in that small victory makes you laugh more than it probably should.

“You’re ridiculous,” you tease, tossing your head back.

“I know,” he says flatly, and you catch the tiniest twitch at the corner of his mouth, like he almost smiled.

You move on, weaving through the arcade, and pick the basketball hoops next. “Bet you can’t beat me,” you challenge, bouncing the ball lightly.

He looks at the hoop, then at you, and sighs, almost like he’s resigned to letting you think you have a chance. “Fine,” he says, lifting a ball.

The game begins, and you almost lose yourself in the silly, playful competitiveness. Your arms ache from throwing, your laughter echoes off the walls, and for once, you’re not thinking about shadows, ghosts, or being forgotten.

Megumi actually starts keeping score, muttering under his breath whenever you miss a shot. You catch him stealing glances at you, cheeks faintly pink, trying too hard to look casual.

“You’re not supposed to keep score silently,” you call, pointing at him mid-laugh. “That’s cheating!”

He shrugs, deadpan. “You’re just bad at defense.”

You can’t help laughing, almost falling over as he sneaks the ball past you again. His quiet competitiveness, his awkward little smiles, the way he keeps checking to see if you’re having fun; it’s all new to you, this feeling of being noticed, of being included.

You drag him over to one of the air hockey tables, laughing as you bump lightly into his shoulder.

“Come on, don’t tell me you’re afraid to lose,” you tease.

He glances at the table, then at you, deadpan. “I’m not afraid. Just… focused.”

You roll your eyes, grinning. “Yeah, sure. Focused.”

The game starts, and you both lunge at the puck, your hands colliding more than once. He doesn’t say anything, but you notice the faint twitch at the corner of his mouth whenever you yell after scoring a point. He’s smiling, even if he tries to hide it.

“You’re cheating!” you shout after he blocks a shot, hopping a little from excitement.

“I’m not,” he says, but the corners of his lips twitch upward again.

You laugh, and he laughs too. You almost stop mid-laugh, because it’s rare to hear him like that. 

When the game ends, you’re both out of breath, your hair sticking to your damp forehead, cheeks flushed from laughing. He hands you a small token, one of those tickets the machine spits out.

“Here,” he says softly. “You can have it.”

You take it, your fingers brushing his, and your chest does that weird little flip. “Thanks,” you mumble.

~~~

You didn’t want the night to end, so what better than to continue it with ice cream?

You push open the door to the shop. Inside, the shop smells of sugar and waffle cones, and the soft neon lights give everything a warm, cozy glow.

“I’m getting vanilla,” you announce immediately, pointing at the classic cone on the menu. 

He shrugs, already scanning the menu. “Chocolate,” he mutters quietly, but the faint twitch at his lips betrays his amusement.

When the server comes over, the two of you end up in a ridiculous tug-of-war over who’s paying.

“I insist,” you say, digging coins out of your purse.

“No, I’ll pay,” he counters.

You glare at him. “I don’t need you to pay for my ice cream! You already paid earlier for our food!”

“I want to.”

You huff, crossing your arms. 

“I’ll take care of it,” he mutters again, waving you off.

When he hands over the card, you glance down, expecting one of his own, and your chest stutters for a second. It’s Gojo’s.

“Wait… that’s-” you start, eyes widening.

“Shh,” he interrupts softly, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “It’s fine.”

You stare at him, stunned, because Gojo’s card? Megumi had one and you didn’t? Well, you shouldn’t be too surprised but…he did raise you alongside Megumi. He lets the others use it, but you don’t get to? A strange mix of emotions churns in your chest.

“Whatever,” you mumble finally, snatching your ice cream before you embarrass yourself by overthinking it.

He nods, taking his chocolate cone, and you both step back outside. The night air is cooler now, brushing against your skin as you wander down the quiet streets. The plush he gave you from the arcade is tucked under your arm, and you hold your vanilla cone carefully, savoring the first bite.

Megumi walks beside you, hands still in his pockets, glancing at you every so often without making it obvious. “Don’t drop that,” he says quietly, nodding toward your cone.

“I won’t,” you reply, licking a little from the side. “Unlike some people who can’t hold a claw machine prize.”

He shrugs, smirking faintly. “You can’t talk. I won first try.”

You roll your eyes, laughing, and fall into step beside him. 

For the first time tonight, you realize it’s not just the games or the sweets, it’s the way he notices you, walks beside you, and quietly insists on being there. Even if he won’t say it outright, the little gestures pile up.

Of course everything just has to be ruined, though.

His phone keeps continuously buzzing in his pocket, the little vibration humming against his leg. He ignores it, or tries to.

His phone buzzes again, and you glance at him curiously. “Who’s that?”

Megumi shrugs, eyes forward. “Probably Gojo,” he mutters.

You raise an eyebrow. “Probably?”

He sighs, fishing the phone out of his pocket to check. The screen lights up with a stream of notifications, all from Gojo. “Yep,” he confirms, voice quiet. “It’s him. Always asking where I am, if I’m okay,  always saying something.”

You frown, glancing at your own phone. Nothing. Not a single message. Did he even know you left the school? 

Megumi keeps walking beside you, calm and steady. “He doesn’t stop. Even when I ignore him, he keeps asking. Making sure I’m not disappearing, not getting hurt. He’s relentless.”

You hug the plush tighter under your arm,.T. The quiet buzzing of his phone, the little gesture of him explaining it, the tiny difference between you and him, it all lingers in a way that’s hard to shake.

You bite the inside of your cheek. You always knew Gojo favoured Megumi heavily, cared about him more, but hearing it out loud, seeing it in contrast to your own silent phone, makes you angry. Especially the way he’s complaining.

“Must be nice, huh? Having someone check in all the time.”

He looks at you.

A small, frustrated laugh escapes your lips, soft and bitter. “I guess some people really do get all the attention,” you murmur, more to yourself than to him.

He frowns, “It’s not… I mean, it’s different. You know how he is. Doesn’t mean he-”

You tighten your grip on the plush, jaw stiffening. “Different? Megumi, you don’t even know what it’s like! You’ve always had him. Always had someone. I grew up with nothing- he never checked in, he was never there! Nanami never even cared. It was always me!”

He opens his mouth, hesitates, “I… I get that it’s different for you,” he finally says, voice low, careful. “I know I… didn’t notice much when we were younger. I-””

“Didn’t notice?” you cut in sharply, the words almost shaking out of you. “Megumi, you didn’t care! You barely even acknowledged I existed! And now, after all this time, after everything, you think one little night- one little walk, some ice cream, holding a plush- makes you understand? Makes you  understand me?”

He flinches, clearly caught off guard, “I… I didn’t…I just-”

“You just what?” The plush digs into your ribs as you hug it tighter. “You just feel bad? You think that’s enough?”

Megumi’s throat moves, silent, and you let the words hang, heavy and hot between you. The city hums quietly around you, distant traffic and the faint buzz of neon lights. Your chest tightens with every beat.

“You don’t get it,” you whisper finally, voice almost breaking. “You don’t get what it’s like to grow up without being cared about. To see everyone else cared for, watched over, loved… while I just existed. You… you don’t know what it feels like to be invisible.”

You stop mid-step, gripping the plush a little too tightly, and finally shove it toward him.

“Here,” you mutter, voice low but edged with irritation. “I don’t want it.”

Megumi blinks, hurt at the way you threw it back to him.

“I… thanks for tonight,” you add quickly, voice tight, forcing the words out. “I’m going home. And no,” you straighten your shoulders, glaring just enough, “you will not be walking me.”

Megumi opens his mouth, clearly wanting to say something, but you turn sharply on your heel and stride off down the street, the plush tucked in his hands as he watches you go, frozen in place.

Chapter Text

Nanami Kento never imagined his life to be like this.

Not after Haibara.

The boy’s laughter still haunted him; bright, careless, the sound of someone who believed the world was kinder than it ever could be. Haibara had been his best friend, parter, his burden to protect, and in the end, his failure. Nanami could still see his smile in the moments before the end, too trusting, too ready to throw himself into the fire if it meant saving someone else.

And then, there was you.

When your family turned away from sorcery, Nanami had almost respected it. Who would willingly hand another child into a world built on sacrifice? But you had already been chosen by it, pulled into its orbit, and Gojo… Gojo wouldn’t let go. Not because he wanted to play guardian, Nanami knew better than anyone that Gojo carried his own ghosts. Haibara’s death had carved a wound into him too, one he never admitted to, one he drowned in noise and laughter and children he felt obliged to protect.

That was how it began, with Gojo scooping up strays: Megumi, his sister, and you. Nanami had been dragged into it alongside him, like a reluctant second guardian. Or being realistic, the more mature and responsible one. Between them, you and Megumi were raised not by choice, but by something closer to duty. Gojo covered his guilt with jokes, Nanami with silence.

But Nanami had not expected you to look so much like Haibar. In the curve of your grin, in the way determination hardened your expression, in the light that sparked in your cursed energy when you trained- he saw him. Every time.

So Nanami kept his distance. It was easier, he told himself. You had Gojo, you had Yaga, you had your classmates. You didn’t need him hovering like some half-hearted guardian anymore. But the truth was sharper than that: every time you laughed too loud, every time you came back scraped and bruised, every time you reminded him of Haibara, grief clawed at his chest until he couldn’t breathe.

And yet, no matter how far he stepped back, there you were.

Everyone had just finished the debrief meeting. You’re still at the table when the others leave, shuffling out with Gojo, loud and careless- well, except Megumi, who glanced back at you and waited a second but you didn’t move an inch.

You don’t say anything, just sit, letting the quiet settle around you like a weight.

Nanami doesn’t move immediately. He sets his pen down, then finally speaks, voice low, measured. “You don’t have to wait for me.”

You glance up, tired but steady. “I wasn’t waiting. I just wanted to finish the report.” You almost wanted to laugh at the fact he thinks you’d wait fr him.

He adjusts his glasses, leans back slightly. “Understandable.”

The silence stretches, but you don’t fidget or fill it with chatter. Your hands rest neatly on the table, eyes scanning numbers and details, and Nanami notices how focused you are, how careful with every calculation, every note.

He’s careful too, careful not to lean too close, careful not to make his gaze linger. There’s something about the way you throw yourself into the work, quietly handling things others might overlook, that catches his attention.

You’re a lot like him.

“You caught a lot of inconsistencies today,” he says finally, breaking the quiet. “The timing, the sequence… it wasn’t obvious, but you noticed.”

You blink, a faint lift of your brow. “I just… tried to follow the details carefully.”

“No one expects perfection overnight,” he says softly, adjusting his tie. “But you’re thorough. That matters.”

You meet his eyes for a brief moment- quiet, unassuming, but steady. He doesn’t look away immediately. Not because you remind him of anyone, but because you’re doing this on your own, and he wants to see that.

The room settles into silence again, comfortable in a way it rarely does. Nanami feels the pull of responsibility, the instinct to guide without interfering, and for the first time in a long while, he realizes that noticing you doesn’t have to hurt.

Nanami leans back slightly, still watching you over the edge of his glasses. “You fought well today,” he says, quiet, measured, but there’s a weight to the words.

You glance up, expression tight, tired. “I don’t exactly have a choice,” you murmur.

No defensiveness, no explanation beyond the simple truth. He notices the faint tension in your shoulders, the way you press your lips together for just a moment before returning to the papers.

“That may be,” he says slowly, “but handling it as you did, it matters. You’re thorough, careful. It doesn’t go unnoticed.”

You let the words settle, eyes briefly meeting his again.

Nanami shifts slightly, adjusting his glasses, wanting to say more but holding back. There’s a pull to guide, to comfort, but he doesn’t. 

Nanami exhales quietly, almost without realizing it, and finally takes a proper look at you. Really looks.

This is you. This is Y/N. The girl he helped raise, even if he stumbled, even if his own guilt and regrets over Haibara made him distant. The child who once depended on him and Gojo now sits tall, methodical, handling cursed reports with a focus that makes his chest tighten. 

Despite the fact he was hardly there, just taking care of you, you turned out a lot like Nanami. 

He notices the subtle changes, how much older you look, the weight you carry but also the strength you’ve built. Every careful movement, every silent decision, every moment of quiet determination reminds him that you aren’t a child anymore.

“I want you to know,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you at first, “I’m proud. I wish I could have done better. I should have been more present.”

You glance up, caught by the faint tremor in his voice. He clears his throat, adjusts his tie, trying to regain composure, but the weight behind his words remains.

You lift your head, eyes sharp, voice trembling but fierce.

“Is that your way of apologizing for all the neglect and careless nights for the last seven years of my life?”

Nanami freezes, pen paused in his hand. The words land heavier than anything he expected, sharper than any cursed spirit could strike.

You take a shaky breath, letting your hands grip the edge of the desk.

“I get it, Nanami,” you continue, voice rising despite yourself. “You lost your best friend. You were ridden with guilt. I look just like him, I’m a copy of him. But you have to understand…I also lost my brother. I lost my best friend. It wasn’t just you who lost someone that day.”

Tears threaten to spill, but you blink them back, forcing the next words out. “I’m sick of being walked over and not cared for anymore.”

A silence hangs for a heartbeat, then cracks under the weight of everything you’ve been holding in. Your voice breaks slightly.

“Gojo doesn’t care about me,” you whisper, though it’s raw and sharp. “Doesn’t ask me if I want to come out with him and the others, doesn’t make an effort to try. I’ve been alone, Nanami.”

You swallow hard, gripping the edge of the table like it can anchor you. 

“So if that was your way of apologizing… it was a fuckass one.”

Nanami’s chest tightens. He stares at you, stunned, because he didn’t expect this. But he deserves it.

He watches you, not as a reflection of Haibara, not as someone to protect out of duty, but you.

You, trembling. You, angry. You, human. You, carrying grief and rage and hurt he couldn’t have fully understood until now.

And the weight of it hits him. The years he let slip by. The moments he didn’t show up. The silence he allowed to grow.

Nanami swallows, throat tight. “I wish I could go back and change everything.”

“Yeah, but you can’t. Was it because I just look like him? What was the reason, Nanami?”

His hands were shaking, throat tightening up like barbed wire surrounding it. He didn’t expect to ever talk about this. 

“Because it’s my fault.” He breathed out.

He waited for you to say something, and when you didn’t, he continued. “I took that mission. I thought we could do it…I thought we could do it together. It was too strong for him, and I wasn’t there in time to save him. He accepted the sacrifice of what it was to be a sorcerer, and I was left to carry my dead best friend back to the school.”

You just stared. No one ever told you much about his death.

“I promise you that I care for you deeply. Every night, I pray for you, I pray for all the kids here, but no matter what, every minute, every second, you are in my thoughts. I was done with the jujitsu word, so having to raise a sorcerer was just a constant reminder of what I kept trying to leave behind. But I stayed, because you needed someone. Even if I was never there, I tried. I really did. I don’t want you to ever think it was because I had any sort of disdain for you. It was because the sole reason you were in my- our- care, was because of me.”

There were tears running down his cheeks now- same for you. You’d been crying since he even mentioned what happened all those years ago. He just sat there, averting your gaze.

“Nanami, please look at me.”

He finally looked up.

“Who do you see?”

…

…

…

“I…I see you.”

You stood up and walked around the table, not even giving him a chance to stand before you threw your arms around him, crying into the top of his head.

 “That’s all I ever wanted to hear.”