Work Text:
There's a small funeral for Satoru Gojo. “Friends and Family Only”, except most of Gojo's friends had been buried before him, and almost all his family sucked ass. Shoko took another drag from her cigarette, sighing out with the smoke. Regardless, what remained of Jujutsu High had gathered for a small ceremony, sharing a moment of remembrance amidst the stilling snows of the January afternoon. Most of them had trailed off by now. Yuta and Megumi were both still lingering, the latter having already shaken off his classmates in favour of his private mourning, while Yuta still had to contend with the rest of the second-years hovering around him. The boy kept looking between Megumi and her and the grave, like something was still left unsaid between them. Shoko wasn’t too bothered by this- leaving things unsaid was perfectly fine by her, was how she had lived her life for the last decade or so. Earnest sweetheart that Yuta still was, it seemed like he couldn’t bear it.
With one final burst of chatter, the second-years cleared out, and Yuta came up to Shoko. After glancing at Megumi, who was resolutely staring up at the sky and not at anyone else, Yuta looked back at Shoko, and she watched his face grow thoughtful before he spoke. When he finally did, he spoke softly, a softer voice than should’ve been possible from a boy who had seen so much.
“It was a beautiful ceremony, Ieiri-san. Thank you for everything.” Shoko opted not to tell him that most of the planning was actually just done by Ijichi, and Shoko had mostly just told him to make it tolerable and quiet. She suspected Yuta already knew, and that wouldn’t stop his need to spread kindness. Besides, that thank you was particularly loaded. Shoko knew he wasn’t just talking about the funeral- he meant all that had led up to it. Handling Gojo’s body, not once but twice. Preparing his corpse for Yuta to take over before she could prepare it for the funeral.
Admittedly, Shoko really hadn’t wanted it to come to that. She was the only one who could do it, so she did. There was no kindness in her actions, only strict practicality. Still, even her cold heart held a warmth for the students, especially for the only person she knew who could use RCT on someone else. She gave Yuta a small smile. “Of course. Anything for Gojo.”
She could practically hear Gojo’s laugh in her head. If she tried really hard, she could even picture his exact tone of voice as he went “Really now, Shoko? Anything?”. The waggle of his eyebrows that’d follow, even. But Gojo wasn’t there, and all she got was a smile from Yuta, who turned to leave her be.
The wind had started picking up, slowly but surely. For a second, the way the snowflakes swirled, centered around their little clearing, reminded her of Gojo- she had seen him fire off Blue plenty of times on missions. Pulling things in, all perfectly centered on Gojo- like he liked to joke that the entire world was.
Even so, Megumi stayed put. Shoko let out another puff. She had half a mind to offer one to Megumi, but she was supposed to be playing the part of responsible adult, and she honestly wasn’t sure if he had the ability to use RCT on himself yet- and god knows she had spent enough time healing Megumi already in the last few months.
For the first time all day, Megumi looked over at Shoko. He had been avoiding eye contact with her, his gaze sinking to the ground anytime they even came close. It was funny, in an almost ridiculous way. She had kept him in the infirmary for several weeks now, slowly monitoring his recovery. They had seen more of each other than they had for a long, long time. Now though, Shoko thought the guilt of Megumi’s existence was finally starting to eat him alive.
“You know, he once told me I had the power to kill him.”
Shoko knew this, knew it even before Megumi did. The first time Megumi had summoned his Divine Dogs, Satoru had texted Shoko immediately, insisting that they go out for drinks that night. After a celebratory dinner with the Fushiguro siblings, they had dropped the siblings off at Satoru’s apartment and found their way to some shitty bar to waste away the rest of the night. Shoko didn’t know why Gojo insisted on these things- he wouldn’t drink anything other than his sodas anyways, simply hanging off of Shoko or occasionally Nanami whenever they could convince him that it was a jujutsu-free night. Considering that Satoru’s reason for going out that night revolved around his adopted-not-son developing his cursed technique, they both knew that it meant there was no way Nanami would join them. Shoko didn’t mind. She could admit now that she enjoyed the way Satoru would get up into her space, the way he would lean on her. He never let down infinity on their nights out, though, keeping himself at a perpetual distance from her. That night, as Shoko ordered for herself with Gojo’s card, he peered at her over his glasses, and Shoko fought the urge to steal them for herself- suppressing her old habits wasn’t yet second nature. Instead, she just listened to what he had to say as she waited for her drink.
“This is fascinating, Sho,” Satoru grinned, “The last time both of our techniques clashed they killed each other.”
Shoko barely batted an eye at his statement. “You sound like a freak, Satoru.”
Gojo let the insult bounce off of infinity as well, too used to getting snark from Shoko to let it slow him down. He continued on, “He could be stronger than me, you know. Not invincible, but strong enough to kill anyone who tried to come after him. Strong enough to kill me.” And true to the freak that Satoru was, his eyes looked truly electrified at the thought. Dying once had only briefly put a fear into Gojo- now that he had automated infinity and mastered everything else there was to know about jujutsu, he seemed to grow bored with life. The thrill of dying was a high nothing else could compare to, she supposed. Shoko was fine with her smokes and her beers either way.
He had continued to lean into her space aggressively for the rest of the night. For a moment she thought she felt his lips brushing against her neck, but the sensation was gone after a second, and the infinite distance between them was back up.
If there was one thing Shoko had taken away from that night, it was that he probably had wanted things to end this way. Well- not quite like this- she thinks he would have preferred that Megumi was conscious while dealing the final blow, weirdo that he was. Regardless, she left all of those unnecessary details out for the time being.
“I think it was what he wanted, Megumi.” Shoko knew this for certain, because deep down Gojo was a sentimental bitch despite it all, and Megumi was basically his son.
“Maybe I didn’t want it to be like this,” Megumi whispered, “but I don’t know if he ever thought about that.”
Shoko didn’t have a response for that one. The both of them knew it was true, and it wasn’t even out of malice. Gojo had just wanted- maybe even needed- someone to be strong enough to stand by his side. When raising Megumi, when training him to be stronger, Gojo hadn’t considered the consequences that’d come paired with it.
She didn’t know how he ignored it. Gojo had to carry around the weight of Geto’s death sentence until the day where he could finally carry it out. The problem with being the strongest is that the only people that rival you in strength will be used as a weapon against you by jujutsu society. Gojo should have known that best of all. But maybe in his dream, where his mantle was taken up not by one person but by an assortment of students all boasting incredible strength and ties of friendship, Gojo thought he would be able to prevent Megumi from carrying the weight of being the killer of his own saviour.
Or maybe he hadn’t thought about it all. Gojo was dead, and his brain had been sitting in a jar on Shoko’s desk, and all his weird thought processes were gone and buried, same as him.
“I’m sorry,” Shoko replied, “about all of it.” She didn’t explain further. Megumi would know what she meant. They had spent enough time in mourning together, from taking night shifts at Tsumiki’s bedside in the hospital to keeping a silent vigil in the morgue.
“It’s not your fault.” Megumi spoke, and he gave her a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
“I’m still sorry it happened.” Shoko knew she had been trying to assuage Megumi’s guilt, but now, her own was starting to kick in.Despite being the only healer worth a damn in jujutsu society, despite all the power her RCT had, she couldn’t bring back the two people that mattered the most to Megumi. Of all her friends, she was the only one left standing, and she had been the only to handle all of their bodies. The only person who could use reverse cursed technique to heal someone else, and all Shoko was capable of doing when it came to people she loved was holding their bodies and preparing them to be buried.
But even then, Megumi didn’t need to hear all of that. He carried enough burdens and loss on his shoulders, and he was already slumping underneath the weight of them. Shoko didn’t want to see that again, didn’t want to see that happening to Megumi. She knew he had the other first-years, at least. Though they had left him alone for today, Shoko had been there as Yuji and Nobara kept dropping in to see Megumi, bringing him news (Nobara) and sweets (Yuji). The two of them would take up space on the end of Megumi's bed, and the three of them would chat for hours, until Shoko was no longer able to ignore the darkness falling outside and would have to tell them to leave. Even so, Shoko couldn’t help but notice that Megumi’s shoulders relax, and he would sleep in longer the next day after their visits. It was bittersweet to see- Shoko could see glimpses of her own school days during those visits, but that was all long gone. It was too late for regrets, for thoughts on how she could’ve saved them all. Perhaps it was okay, as long as she could save the ones in front of her now.
Besides, she knew she still had one little thing to do in remembrance of Gojo. She was going to do her best to lift Megumi’s spirits, if just for a bit. Tossing her cigarette to the ground and stomping it out, Shoko looked back up to Megumi.
“If you can believe it, that idiot left one more job for me. If you can find me Yuji and Nobara, I have something to give you all.”
And hopefully, if Gojo had any sense, whatever he had left for Megumi would be able to put an actual smile on the young boy’s face, and Shoko could go back to simply being the doctor, nothing more.
(Though perhaps she was kidding herself. When Megumi shifted closer to Shoko, just a tiny bit, she draped her arm over his shoulders and pulled him into herself. For old time’s sake.)