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Seoul, South Korea. July 2015
-three days before the incident-
The sky is a mix of gold and pink hues as the sun makes its descent, while streetlamps begin turning on as the night quickly approaches. Children are laughing nearby, the sound of splashes as they jump in puddles from the sudden summer storm echoing around the alleyway. Taishi Oshiro, grade 3 sorcerer, wonders if he should’ve told his wife about the hidden pregnancy test he’d found before he ran out for a quick errand around the corner. Has she already taken one and she’s just wanting another to confirm, or is she getting it in preparation and wants to try for their third? He has plenty of time to think it through as his clothes soak through with old rainwater and blood while he lies on the asphalt.
“So, tell me again how exactly your memory technique works?” his murderer asks, though their pronunciation is a little off.
A curse user, most likely grade 1 or even special grade. Nothing about them seemed to particularly stand out, a kind smile on their face as they asked in stilted Japanese for directions. Short brown hair, Caucasian, nice clothes; Taishi had assumed they were a tourist just needing help and now he’s on the ground slowly bleeding out. It hadn’t helped that something went wrong when he tried to use any cursed energy—as if it was just out of reach and his arms weren’t long enough.
“No matter, I’ll figure it out eventually,” they say when their question is answered with silence. They lean down towards Taishi, a small scratch across their nose the only indication he tried to fight back. “I want to add the best to my collection, so how about you answer my question and I won’t go down the street and pay your family a visit, hm?”
His wife, his two children—his daughters had gripped at his pant legs as he left, asking for him to come play in the puddles with him while his wife laughed as she cooked dinner, telling them he’d be right back after getting the eggs she forgot to get the day before. The bag is now soaked through just like his clothes, though a bit more yellow from the yolks that slip through the broken shells. He manages to nod his head, willing to do anything with his final time that’ll spare his family more pain than they’ll already have from his death.
“I hear Japan is the place to be for sorcerers, plenty of interesting techniques. I’m only interested in the one on top, though. So, tell me, who do I have to kill for it?”
Taishi remembers meeting the strongest in passing once, remembers the man’s confidence when proclaiming the title, though that was years ago. He’d feel guilty sending this curse user his way, but, if anyone can take them down it would be--
“Satoru Gojo”
Tokyo, Japan. July 2015
-the day of the incident-
The trill of a phone pierces through the mostly silent room, the hum of a fan at full speed the only other noise. Satoru sits up in his chair, groaning softly as the ringing phone pulls him from his nap. He rubs his eyes, pops his neck to get rid of the stiffness from falling asleep in his chair again, and answers without looking at the caller ID.
“Go for Gojo,” he answers, trying to put enough pep in his voice so it’s not obvious he was sleeping instead of working.
“Hello, Satoru Gojo? This is—” the speaker on the other end begins before he tunes them out, because, fuck, he recognizes the voice and knows exactly what he’s going to hear from Megumi’s school before they even get to it. He picks out the important bits of their spiel like ‘Megumi Fushiguro’, ‘fight’, ‘possible suspension’, and ‘please come pick him up’, before responding with an overly rehearsed apology and letting them know he’ll be there shortly.
His bandages lay in a bundle on the desk in front of him, but he opts to slide on a spare pair of sunglasses to save time as the clock on his phone reminds him he has a meeting in 20 minutes. So far there’s nothing on the agenda for tomorrow, though that can easily change if a curse comes about for him to deal with, but the kid couldn’t have waited just one more day to pick a fight? Besides that, he’s only got a couple more weeks until it’s break time.
He remembers at the last minute to not appear in the school this time and warps himself down the street from the school instead. Megumi is waiting outside the principal’s office when he walks in, the nearby shadows seemingly darker than normal. There’s a bruise forming around his left eye and dried blood along his knuckles, the skin most likely split open. Satoru stops to ruffle the kid’s hair, before giving him a gentle look overtop his glasses and flashing him a reassuring smile. He keeps the smile on as he enters the office, nodding along as the principal goes on and on about ‘multiple fights’ and ‘this is the final warning’, etcetera, etcetera. Really, they’ve been over this so many times already, Satoru isn’t sure why they even need to keep up the charade instead of just letting him take Megumi and go.
It takes a lot of self-control not to check his phone until after he leaves the office, but he manages and clicks it on to see he has ten more minutes until the meeting. If he’s quick, he can get Megumi back home first, but then he’s spending the rest of the day at home doing whatever he wants, and what lesson is to be learned from that? The easiest solution is going straight back to the school and Megumi can spend some time with the first years, then maybe he can learn something like he should be at his own school had he not been sent home.
Megumi lets out a long sigh as soon as Satoru turns to him with a mischievous grin, his eyes already rolling before Satoru even reaches out to grab him so they can get back to Jujutsu High. The attitude on this kid sometimes, Satoru thinks as they appear back on campus. He shoos Megumi off to go and watch the first-years training down in the field and has just enough time to grab a snack from the vending machines and still make it to the meeting on time.
They’re all waiting for him, of course, because none of them seem to understand that ‘on time’ actually means two minutes late. He takes a seat next to Shoko, sticks his tongue out at Utahime, and completely ignores Gakuganji as Yaga gives him that look that means he’s slightly annoyed with him. Just like with his meeting barely ten minutes previous with Megumi’s principal, the joint school meetings are basically the same thing every time, so he spends most of his time doodling and writing notes, leaving the paper for Shoko to see and add her own additions while they share his chips. It isn’t until the end, when they’re each given a file, that Satoru’s interest is finally piqued.
Taishi Oshiro: Grade 3 Sorcerer, age 29. Found dead in Seoul, South Korea where he was visiting his wife’s family. His wife, Ji-Yoon Oshiro, says he was running to pick up last-minute groceries for dinner when he never returned. The body was found a few blocks away from the family home. Slashing wounds indicate either use of weapon or curse with claws as cause of injuries; cause of death likely due to excessive bleeding. Unknown residuals at scene indicate possible grade 1 curse. When interviewed, Ji-Yoon claimed they had experienced nothing out of the ordinary the two days they’d been in Seoul previously. Same unknown residuals found near home, but faint.
URGENT: Unknown residuals found in Okayama and Nagoya, may possibly be heading further East. Requesting grade 1 or higher sorcerer for exorcism of curse.
“So, what’s Mei Mei’s asking rate these days?” Satoru asks once they’ve all gotten the chance to read it over.
“I assumed you might be interested,” Yaga says in response, instead of answering the question.
“If it makes its way here or Mei Mei is too weak to handle it, then sure. Megumi might’ve gotten suspended today and I still got to ask the kid what the fuck that’s all about, so my evening’s a bit booked.”
He doesn’t need to see anyone’s faces to know the looks they're throwing his way; he’s used to it by now. Sure, he could handle a grade 1 in half the time, if not less, than anyone else, but what was the point in even asking for a lower grade than him if they just deferred to him every time?
“Great meeting as always, can’t wait for the next one,” he throws over his shoulder as he leaves the room, ignoring any calls of his name.
The sun is bright when he walks outside, annoyingly enough that he regrets wearing glasses and debates going back for the bandages left behind on his desk. He shields his eyes to look out towards where the first years are still training, though they must be getting tired by now with the summer heat baring down on them, but he can’t quite make out more than just blobs—almost as if a lens was out of focus.
Damn Sun, he thinks as he rubs his eyes, startling as a hand rests upon his shoulder. Or, would have, if not for infinity. Satoru spins around suddenly, on edge from not sensing someone walking up on him and ready to fight, but all he finds is a confused Yaga. He feels embarrassed suddenly, though he’s unsure why—maybe at the thought of someone catching him, of all people, off guard.
“What?” he says, though a bit too snippy, still frazzled from his sudden loss of sense.
“Are you okay?” Yaga asks, because of course he wants to talk about it instead of just pretending this whole interaction doesn’t exist like Satoru would prefer.
“Yeah, fine, just the stupid Sun being too bright and shit. What do you want?”
Yaga stares at him for a moment, the silence extending long enough that it makes Satoru want to twitch, but he stays still and doesn’t break eye contact.
“If you say so. You sure you don’t want in on the mission before I extend the offer elsewhere?”
“Super sure. I got to get a troublesome teenager back to his place and interrogate him over some dinner. That’s basically the same thing as exorcising some curse.”
Yaga nods, but catches his eye before Satoru can fully turn away.
“And you’re positive that everything is fine?”
Satoru looks at Yaga, really looks and sees his cursed energy, then looks back out towards the field where he can pinpoint each individual student and their differing energies. The Sun can be a bother sometimes, but it’s never messed with his vision quite like it did a minute ago. Maybe he’s just tired; besides the nap just a couple hours ago, he can’t remember the last time he had a full night’s sleep.
“Everything’s fine,” he reassures, softer, his signature smile present.
Yaga lets him leave after that, so he makes his way down to the field to collect Megumi. He waves to all the students as they call out to him, before beckoning Megumi to join him. Megumi is chatting with Emika, a first-year student with a technique that allows her to accelerate the growth of plants. It’s entertaining to watch her throw a handful of seeds at a curse just for them to rapidly grow into entangling vines and her dorm room is basically a garden with the number of houseplants she has growing in it. Something about her today seems a bit...off, though. Maybe she’s just having a bad day and it’s affecting her energy.
She grabs out a seed from her belt pouch and grows it into a daisy, handing it to Megumi and waving goodbye as he wanders over to join Satoru. Megumi glares at him solely based off Satoru’s smirk as he gets to his side.
“Whatever you’re going to say,” Megumi starts, “how about you just don’t.”
“Megumi,” he says anyways, holding out the u, “are you making friends? You got a crush?”
“Ew, stop.”
Megumi throws a punch at Satoru’s arm and he allows it to pass through infinity with a laugh, before rubbing at the spot teasingly with a pout.
“You’re so mean to me, Meg.”
“I told you not to call me that. And, besides, she couldn’t stop talking about you the whole time.”
“Me?” Satoru asks, eyes sparkling as he turns to walk backwards so he can fully face Megumi while they walk and talk.
“Don’t worry, I made sure she understood how much of a loser you really are.”
“A loser? Me? Satoru Gojo?”
“Your only friends are co-workers and children, isn’t that the definition of a loser?”
Satoru spins back around to face the direction they’re walking, ignoring Megumi and the smile on his face that says he knows he won. What a brat. After everything Satoru’s done to help the kid, he has the audacity to call him a loser? This is why Tsumiki is his favorite Fushiguro, which is exactly what he tells Megumi, satisfied when it earns him a glare.
They pick up something to make for dinner before heading to the Fushiguro’s apartment, where they find Tsumiki already home and working on homework. Satoru pushes Megumi towards the table and tells him to do the same while he works on preparing the food, joining the two at the table to do some of his own work while it cooks. He doesn’t find much when doing a web search, as most news articles won’t outright speak of curses or sorcerers, but his search does yield one interesting result.
Japanese Tourist Found Dead in Ontario, Wild Animal on the Loose?
He skims over the article from a few months ago, the claw like wounds making him wonder if it’s connected. There’s a few more from there that seem like a possible connection, but it’s hard to know without knowing more.
Foreign Exchange Student Attacked by Bear in New York
One Dead After Not Returning from Hunting Trip in Colorado
Animal Attack in Shanghai Kills Traveling Worker
“Gojo,” Megumi’s voice pulls him away from his phone, “the pot is boiling over.”
Satoru whips around in his seat to stare at the stove where the pot of soup is, in fact, beginning to boil over.
“Shit,” he exclaims as he jumps up to pull off the lid and lowers the temperature, hoping to bring it back down to a simmer.
Tsumiki tries her best to stifle a laugh, before she’s full-on giggling, the traitor that she is. He’s changed his mind, he no longer has a favorite Fushiguro. Do Megumi’s shikigami count? Maybe one of the dogs can be his favorite. He cleans up the mess before serving the finished soup and they all eat while Tsumiki talks about her day. She off handedly mentions hearing about a fight and sends a pointed look Megumi’s way, but when he ignores the opening, she continues about one of her friends who recently got a cat.
With dinner and homework out of the way, Satoru convinces them both to play a few rounds of Mario Kart on the Wii and promptly kicks the butt of two children and doesn’t feel guilty at all. He leaves them to play against each other for the last set of races, his attention pulled away by a text from Yaga.
“Mei Mei found traces heading out of Nagoya near the bus station. Have someone searching for any traces here in Tokyo. Will keep you updated.”
If any of the articles he found were connected, then this curse has been all over so far and killed quite a few people. It felt too intelligent, felt more like human choices. He thinks it over as he cleans up from dinner, pondering the chance of it being a curse user instead. What would be the motive, though, and why so many different places? His phone buzzes again just as he’s finished drying the dishes.
“Traces found at the school. May need you to come in.”
With a sigh, he goes to Tsumiki first to give his goodbyes, before heading to Megumi’s room. He’s sitting in bed reading a book, his black dog curled around him with its head in his lap. Yeah, the shadow dogs are definitely his favorite. Satoru knocks on the doorframe, letting Megumi know he’s there.
“Hey, Goo, you ready to talk about it now?” Satoru asks.
“Ew, no, don’t call me that one either.” He says in response, not answering the question, but still puts his book down to give Satoru his attention.
“Fine, fine,” Satoru agrees, taking a seat at the foot of Megumi’s bed. He brushes a hand through the dog’s fur, smiling when it stretches out further for more pets. “So, what injustice was committed this time, Batman?”
“A third-year was picking on a first-year; making fun of her stutter. I told him to knock it off or I’d break his jaw so he couldn’t talk.”
“Oh, my, God, Megumi,” Satoru’s voice rises in exasperation. “You broke someone’s jaw?”
“No!” He crosses his arms and glares at Satoru but looks away when Satoru levels a look at him that says ‘really?’. “We were caught before I could get that far.”
Satoru pushes his sunglasses up so he can rest his face in his hands. Really, how is teaching high-schoolers to be sorcerers easier than being a semi-parental figure to a thirteen- and fourteen-year-old? When he rests his hands in his lap again, Megumi is staring at him, looking at least a little remorseful.
“Look, Megumi, sticking up for others is a great quality to have, but maybe we work on the approach, yeah? I was a bit of a shithead at your age, too, but I never got myself suspended from school.”
A beat passes between them, before Megumi finally asks, “Weren’t you homeschooled when you were my age?”
“That’s not the point,”
“How is that not the point? That’s a totally different scenario!”
“Listen, you can fight all the curses and bullies you want when you come to school with me, but until then, try to chill out, got it?” He emphasizes his point by flicking Megumi on the forehead, which results in the teen trying to slap his hand away, and Satoru sticks his tongue out at him when it stops short from infinity. “Now who’s the loser?”
“Still you, now get out of my room.”
Satoru stands up to leave, a pout on his face and arms crossed.
“I pay for this room, you know. So, really, it’s basically my room.”
“I literally don’t give a fuck, go home.”
“You’re a terrible son.”
“Maybe because you’re not my dad?”
Satoru grabs at his chest with both hands and falls against the doorframe as if he’s in pain.
“My heart, you wound it, Megumi.”
“Can you go bother Tsumiki with your dramatics?”
“I already told her goodnight,” Satoru answers with a shrug.
“Great, goodbye. Now we’ve both said it and you can leave.”
“You know, Megumi,” Satoru starts and then stops, his focus drawn away as he stares at the shikigami lying on the bed that seemingly has no cursed energy even though it’s literally made of cursed energy. When he confirms Megumi’s lack of cursed energy as well, he turns his head towards the wall that divides the sibling’s rooms. Though Tsumiki has no cursed energy of her own, her room tends to have residuals from Megumi or even from himself when he visits here and there, yet he can’t see any at all.
“Gojo?” Megumi asks, and Satoru’s eyes drift back to see the furrowed brows of worry forming on his face.
“Sorry, just feeling tired.” Satoru lies, though, is it really a lie?
Black’s head perks up from Megumi’s lap and its ears twitch as if it hears something, just as Satoru’s phone goes off in his pocket. Even with his six eyes acting weird, he can sense it in the air—something’s wrong.
“I’m going to head out now,” he tells Megumi as he makes his way towards the front door to slip his shoes on, a smile plastered on his face to try and reassure the kid that everything is totally fine. Megumi follows behind him, standing just outside his bedroom door where he can see Satoru in the entryway, his dog standing alert next to him. “I’ll call your school in the morning and figure out what’s going on. Lock the door behind me, kay?”
He needs to leave, to figure out whatever is going on and make sure whatever it is that’s messing with his eyes doesn’t cause trouble here for the kids. The need is heightened when he reads over the newest text from Yaga, the feeling of bad, wrong, danger, increasing tenfold.
“We have a problem. Need you here ASAP.”
He’s just about to slip it back into his pocket when it goes off one final time, from Nanami this time instead of Yaga, just a shared location five blocks away from where he currently is. Too close for his liking, but at least he has a destination and can stop whatever this curse issue is before it gets closer. With a final wave to Megumi, he puts his phone away and opens the door to leave but is stopped short when he finds someone at the door. How long have they been there and why the fuck didn’t he sense them?
“Satoru Gojo,” they say, a smile pulling at their lips. “So great to finally meet you.”
English, not Japanese. An American maybe? He remembers the articles he found—New York, Colorado. Canada is the same continent, could easily be from the same person. Their smile widens as he slowly puts it all together.
“Oh,” they say in Japanese this time, “you know who I am. Maybe this time it’ll be fun.”
Shit, he can’t do this here, not where Megumi and Tsumiki could be in danger. It would take too long to get both kids and warp somewhere else, especially when the only thing he knows about the curse user’s technique is something about claws or a weapon similar to claws. He could, however, warp himself and the curse user somewhere with less people and, most importantly, away from the two kids he sees as his own family.
Six Eyes comes back to him in an instant and the flare of cursed energy in front of him is blinding and disorienting, causing him to grab the doorframe to steady himself as he blinks away the spots. He really needs to have a talk with someone about how often curses are underrated, because this shit is not grade 1, and he would’ve taken care of it before it literally showed up on his doorstep if he’d known.
The air shifts, gravity around him seems denser, and he looks back up to the curse user as he registers that infinity is gone—that Limitless itself is suddenly gone—to watch a hand, nails long and sharp like claws, swipe across his throat. His hand comes up to cover the cuts on instinct, barely stopping the flow of blood that leaks through his fingers and causes him to choke as he tries to breathe. He stumbles back into the apartment, the curse user stepping past the threshold after him, and falls against the wall of the entryway to keep from hitting the ground.
“Oh, little Fushiguro,” the curse user says, because Megumi is still standing in direct view of the door and barely fifteen feet away, where he had been waiting to lock up as directed. “Thank you so much for your help answering my questions today. Your answers were...enlightening.”
Megumi’s eyes are wide, staring at Satoru, while Black growls next to him, ready to pounce. Satoru pushes himself off the wall, holds himself up as best he can to be a physical barrier between Megumi and this other person, and tries to tell Megumi to run, but all he manages is to cough up blood. He feels Black’s fur against his leg as the dog runs by to leap at the curse user, Megumi himself coming to stand just behind Satoru, but before its jaw snaps around their leg, the dog dissolves away into shadows. In the exact same moment, Satoru feels the flow of Limitless again.
Claws and some sort of nullification? Limited to one technique at a time, it seems. He can work with that. He takes advantage of the moment to use reverse cursed technique and heal himself, focusing solely on being able to breathe and on stopping the bleeding; anything else can be dealt with later.
“Your shadow shikigami is quite an interesting technique,” they speak again, taking another step closer, but Satoru is ready now if they get too close. “Maybe after I kill Gojo and take his technique, I’ll take yours too.”
Take his technique? What the Hell are they going on about?
“Like Hell you will,” Satoru growls, his voice coming out raspy from his shoddy healing. Megumi’s hand grips tightly at the fabric of his shirt, a slight tremble in it. “Get Miki,” he whispers over his shoulder, feeling better when he feels Megumi’s hand fall away and hears footsteps heading past the kitchen towards her room. “You seem to know who I am, but I’ll let you in on something you don’t seem to know.” He pushes his glasses up to rest on top of his head, while equating the distance between him and Tsumiki’s room, trying to judge how much space he has available to unleash his domain without drawing the siblings into it. “You can threaten me all you want, but don’t you dare threaten any of my kids.”
He blinks as he brings a hand up, preparing a reduced version of his domain, to find the curse user gone and Megumi standing where they had been. It can’t be Megumi; the cursed energy is almost a perfect match, almost, but there’s something off about it—like a knockoff designer handbag. Much like Emika’s energy was when he—no, no.
“What did you do to Emika Takehara?” he asks, his rage building as faux Megumi begins to smirk.
“It’d be suspicious if I looked like her, yet couldn’t use her technique, no?” they answer, the tone so odd in Megumi’s voice.
“She was fifteen!” His throat burns as he yells, but a twisted part of him thinks that’s the least he deserves for allowing the death of one of his students.
“A risk sorcerers must deal with in this life. How old is he, twelve, thirteen?” They ask, pointing at themself still with Megumi’s face. “He’ll be the youngest so far.”
Satoru’s eyes glow in the dimly lit room, full of anger and guilt, and he pulls at Limitless. He senses the snap, like a string pulled too taught, as Megumi’s technique is released, and his technique flows out of his grasp once more. A laugh rips itself out of him, bitter and lacking amusement, as he pulls his fists up.
“I don’t need my technique to defeat you.” He focuses on the cursed energy in front of him, on the part that’s not like Megumi’s, so he doesn’t have to think about how he’s punching the kid’s face. “Let me teach you why they call me the strongest.”
--
Megumi is fully aware that in a couple years he’ll be facing curses or curse users on his own, but never did he imagine one would walk through his front door. He could feel their energy as soon as Gojo opened the door, almost on par with Gojo’s own, which is why it was confusing when Gojo didn’t. Something had been wrong, though Gojo was trying to hide it. After his shikigami disappeared and he was unable to summon it again, he realized whatever caused that might’ve affected Gojo’s technique as well. Which is why Gojo was able to bleed—all down the front of his shirt, onto the linoleum and then the carpet, dripping from his lips. Gojo had always been untouchable, seeing him bleed shattered that image, tainted every memory red.
Tsumiki is at her desk with her headphones on when he pushes her door open, annoyance clear on her face as she turns to look at him—most likely to scold him for not knocking—which falls away as soon as she takes him in.
“We have to go,” he manages to say, voice cracking.
She’s already in her pajamas, doesn’t even have socks on, but she throws off her headphones and grabs her phone to move past Megumi towards the kitchen. He reaches out a hand to stop her, loosens his grip when he realizes it’s too tight, and shakes his head.
“No, we can’t,” he stops when they hear Gojo shout, both of them looking in the direction. “We can’t go that way.”
Tsumiki nods, moving her hand to grab Megumi’s instead of him holding her arm, and pulls him across from her room into the bathroom, where she shuts the door and locks it.
“Megumi, what is going on?” she whispers, knowing from the fear on her brother’s face that whatever it is, it isn’t good.
“I need your phone,” he says instead, easily pulling it out of her hand when she allows him to.
Gojo had programmed the speed dials when he first got them the phones, the first being for each other, the second for him, and the next few what he called ‘emergency contacts’. Megumi can’t remember which number is for who, so he hits one at random and lets it dial away. It clicks after a few rings, Nanami’s voice coming through.
“Tsumiki? What—”
Megumi doesn’t let him finish, interrupting with “Gojo needs help”.
There’s a pause on the other end, and Megumi grips the phone tighter, hoping Nanami is still there.
“Where?”
“He was leaving our apartment, but there was this guy and I think they made it so Gojo couldn’t see and then he was bleeding and-”
“The curse user?” Nanami interrupts, trying to get the kid to stop ranting.
“No...Gojo.”
“From a weapon?”
“No, they,” Megumi takes a moment to breathe, and Tsumiki grabs his hand again, giving it a little squeeze to encourage him to continue. “I couldn’t control the shadows when I was out there, and I think now Gojo can’t use his technique.”
Silence gathers as they all think about what’s unspoken, at what it means if Gojo can’t use his technique. He’d already been hurt once, could be hurt again, could die if unable to heal.
“Okay, I’m not too far away and I’m on my way. Gojo was supposed to come help me find a curse, but it sounds like it found him instead. I want you to hang up with me and call Shoko and tell her what’s going on. Do you think you can do that?”
Megumi nods his head, before remembering Nanami can’t see and telling him yes.
“Your sister is with you?”
“Yes, we’re in the bathroom.”
“Good, you two stay there. I’ll be there soon.”
A silence falls over the bathroom as Tsumiki takes in everything she heard, and Megumi continues to try and process all that’s happened.
“Satoru was bleeding?” she finally asks, pulling Megumi’s eyes away from the phone in his hand.
Megumi just nods, not trusting himself to speak further on it. Tsumiki takes the phone from his hand, hers still holding on to his other, and goes through the numbers on her phone until she finds Shoko Ieri and clicks ‘call’.
--
It’s been a while since Satoru has had to push himself to his limit, not that he's reaching it just yet, but he knows he might if this continues on. He takes stock of his own injuries—three gashes along his left arm, small puncture in his thigh, and a scratch behind his right ear when he didn’t dodge back in time—before assessing that of the curse user he’s fighting. They’re favoring their left side, most likely from the ribs he’s pretty sure he broke, and there’s a bruise forming along their jaw. Too bad he hadn’t broken that too; he could’ve bragged about it to Megumi.
He should probably also account for the broken shoe rack, the slashes in the couch, and that ugly vase Tsumiki loved for some reason that was shattered on the ground, but that could come later. While he knows he could keep going still, he’s tired of the fight dragging on, so he bides his time and waits for an opening—dodges a few slashes before he can move in close. His shoulder hits against their chest, and they both go down, his fist winding into their shirt collar so he can pull them up before smashing them back against the ground.
He pulls his fist back and connects it against their nose.
Are you the strongest because you’re Satoru Gojo? The question comes to him unbidden, as it often does. He didn’t answer then, couldn’t. But he knows what makes him strong, has proved it over and over again. He’s worked too hard every day of his life to be anything other than strong.
He pulls his fist back and connects it against their cheek.
He has to be strong until his kids, his students, can become stronger than him; so that they have that chance to become stronger.
He pulls his fist back and connects it against their jaw.
Sure, his techniques help, but he’s more than that. He's more than the power he was born with,
He pulls his fist back, ignores the brush of fingers against his forehead, and...it doesn't connect.
Satoru knows it’s not him; he knows, he knows, he knows.
But the energy is so familiar, his smile is so familiar, his voice as he says Satoru’s name is so familiar.
He hesitates, his breathing fast and his hand shaking, ever barely, where it remains in the air. Their hand pushes his bangs away from his eyes, slides past the scar on his forehead and down to rest against his face.
“Even the strongest has a weakness,” they whisper, eyes gentle and full of—no.
He feels frozen as logic tries to crawl its way back into his brain, struggles to push past all the racing thoughts of Suguru. Using someone so familiar will be their downfall, though, as it allows Satoru to finally see past the mask, to see beyond the mimicry and the true cursed energy of the curse user. He knows Suguru’s cursed energy, will always know it, and knows immediately that this isn’t it. There’s a thread of energy that flows to him, from the real cursed energy to his own, and he thinks if he pulls on it, it’ll break.
The anger flows through him again; anger at everything, at anything. One more time, he pulls his fist back, a snarl pulled from deep within, and stops short of connecting as pain erupts from his chest. He looks down at the hand shoved into his chest and is unable to bite back the whine that makes its way up his throat as he feels their fingers move—feels the tear against muscle and tissue, feels the scrape against his bones.
The smile on their face is wrong now too, full of so much malice, something it didn’t even have when he last saw Suguru and failed to kill him. He falls easily to the side as they push him away, his blood quickly pooling under him and his breaths coming more as wheezes. They crouch next to him, grab his face with a smile that screams satisfaction.
“Tell me, whose face should I wear when I kill little Fushiguro?”
He’s sixteen, lying in a pool of his own blood; his chest ripped open and struggling to breathe—all he’s missing is a knife to the head. Suguru’s face morphs into Toji Fushiguro’s, the smirk the exact same. He tries to pull on his cursed energy, to reverse it like he’d learned then, but it’s as though it’s just out of reach.
“How interesting,” they mumble, dropping Satoru’s face to stand up. “You can see his cursed energy even from here, right? So you’ll see when I take it from him?”
“Don’t,” Satoru begs; tries to grab their leg as they move away to keep them from leaving. He thinks he might be crying and hates himself for not being strong enough to protect Megumi—for letting something as stupid as lost love distract him.
“I’ll come back to finish with you, don’t worry. First, I’ll kill the shadow user, and then I’ll kill the sister as well. Feels a little wrong to not complete the set, doesn’t it?”
Satoru gets his hands under himself and tries to push himself up, but all he manages to do is slip on his own blood and watch as the curse user disappears further into the apartment. He’s supposed to be the strongest, yet he’s so weak. Maybe he was wrong, maybe he really is only the strongest because of his techniques.
--
Things seem too quiet; no noise comes from beyond the bathroom door, and Tsumiki hasn’t said anything more into the phone still clutched in her hand, though the line remains open. Realistically, Megumi knows these situations can take time to handle, time for people to arrive, but he also knows how quickly they can be over with the right circumstances. He remembers a time once, on Tsumiki’s tenth birthday, when Gojo took them out for dinner and let them stay out later for dessert.
They were both crashing from all the sugar and the excitement, little feet dragging behind as Gojo walked ahead to take them home, when he suddenly stopped in front of a daycare that’d been closed for remodeling for a while now. One of the kids in Megumi’s class told them all his dad was one of the workers and how mysterious things kept happening to stop the construction. Megumi ignored it, assuming the kid was just trying to tell stories, but he began to wonder if there truly was more to it as Gojo continued to stare at the building.
Gojo steered both kids to a parking block in front of the building to sit, before crouching down to their level and handing over the bag of leftover sweets.
“You two share another slice of cake and I’ll be back in just a minute, okay?” Gojo had said, before patting them each on the head and walking around to the back of the building.
Tsumiki had stared after him a moment before doing as told and grabbing out one of the containers. She held out the container for Megumi to take a bite, but he shook his head and turned to watch the building. It seemed normal from the outside, just another partially constructed building, but Megumi could feel something odd inside of it. Tsumiki was on her second bite when there was a crash from inside, almost like that of a wall breaking, and then whatever Megumi had felt was gone. Gojo opened the front door a few seconds later; the dust filled room behind him visible for only a moment before he closed the door behind him.
“Don’t worry,” he told them with a smile, “I’m pretty sure they planned for that wall to be knocked down anyways.”
Tsumiki handed him the bag again when he approached and jumped to her feet, doing her best to keep pace with Gojo so she could hold his hand. They stopped once they reached the edge of the parking lot, Gojo calling out to him without looking back since he knew Megumi hadn’t followed them because of his weird, creepy eyes. Megumi huffed, but joined up with them, though unlike Tsumiki he refused the hand offered to him.
“I’ll teach you how to do that one day,” Gojo spoke after they’d continued walking, eyes on Megumi. “Maybe you’ll even do it faster than me.” His eyes moved back to the sidewalk in front of them, a smile pulling at his lips. “I hope you break all my records one day.”
Except the Gojo currently here doesn’t have the ability to use his cursed technique, so Megumi’s a little unsure what the proper frame of time is anymore; is around five minutes too little or not enough? It leaves him enough time to go over what the curse user had said to him before, about answering their questions. Megumi had never seen them before and is pretty sure he’d remember their cursed energy at least, so he’s unsure what they could be talking about. So he goes through his whole day, thinking of anyone who’d asked questions.
His principal and teacher, obviously, when they wanted to know why he’d thrown the first punch. Then there was Emika, who asked him a lot of questions about Gojo, which could arguably be seen as a little odd considering she could just ask him herself, him being her teacher and all. He’s used to the students asking him questions whenever Gojo drags him along, though usually they’re more like ‘does he really act like that all the time?’ and not ‘does he always keep that barrier of his up?’.
Is it possible that Emika was blackmailed into helping and asking those questions?
“Maybe after I kill Gojo and take his technique, I’ll take yours too.”
If they can steal techniques, is it possible for them to have more than one?
Pounding at the door makes Tsumiki flinch, her hand coming up to cover her mouth when she lets out a small squeal. Megumi puts his hand out towards her, trying to tell her to stay without words, as he moves towards the door.
“Are you two okay in there?” Gojo asks from the other side and Megumi realizes it’s much easier to breathe now.
“We’re okay,” he responds, fingers moving to the lock.
“That’s good. Open the door, then, Fushiguro.”
Megumi’s hand stops, and he tries to feel beyond the door, to the cursed energy lurking outside. It feels like Gojo’s, but something about it feels muted. They’d shown two separate techniques before and implied they can take more, so it is possible they have one that copies voices? In all the years he’s known Gojo and suffered through his many check-ins or sporadic ‘let’s go out on the town’ moments, Megumi knows for certain Gojo would’ve used a dumb nickname to try and lighten the mood.
“Gojo, what’s my birthday?” he asks, knowing that if it truly is Gojo, he wouldn’t fault Megumi for taking the time to be absolutely positive it’s him.
“Really? This isn’t the time for games.”
Megumi points to the small window above the toilet and gestures for Tsumiki to open it. He might be able to just fit through it, but Tsumiki for sure can squeeze through.
“My birthday. When is it?” As soon as there’s a hesitation, Megumi moves to help Tsumiki up and into the open window. “It’s not him,” he whispers to her when she gives him a look. She still looks confused, but she slips through the window and holds out a hand for him to give back the phone.
“You know, you’re too smart for your own good, kid. How about we make a deal, hm? You open this door and I’ll make sure it’s quick and painless. I’ll even let you pick which one of you goes first.”
Megumi passes the phone through the window and waits for her to confirm the call is still going, before telling her to move so he can go through next. The door bursts open before he’s able to, and the first thing he can think is how the eyes are wrong. If what the curse user said about killing to take is true, then whatever technique allows them to wear another’s face can’t mimic the technique as well. It means the Gojo in front of him can’t have Six Eyes, because Gojo is still alive. He pulls at the shadows, brings his hands together as he thinks of what to summon, and freezes when the curse user moves towards him—he has nowhere to go. A hand closes around his throat and pushes him back against the wall, their grip tightening as he grabs at their arm to try and get it away.
“You should’ve taken the deal. Now I’m going to have fun killing you.”
--
“Be there in 5-10 do what you can until then.”
Nanami glances at Shoko’s message just as he arrives at the Fushiguro’s doorstep, where he finds the door wide open and blood across the doorway. He follows it in—splatters that turn into a bigger puddle, a puddle that turns into drag marks—until it leads him towards the back wall where Gojo is using the wall to pull himself onto his knees. Nanami rushes forward, grabbing Gojo by the shoulders and pushing him against the wall to sit, though Gojo attempts to swat his hands away.
“Stop, kids,” Gojo rasps, his voice too quiet.
Nanami takes his jacket off and bundles it up, before placing it against the hole in Gojo’s stomach and pressing hard.
“Hold it,” he demands, grabbing at Gojo’s hands and placing them on it when the other refuses to do so at first.
“Nanami, stop, please.”
Gojo’s eyes are duller than usual, something in them he never saw before, even when they were students, still just children in the grand scheme of things. Even then, he envied the way Gojo could put on a smile and move on from things almost as much as it infuriated him. The hand that grabs at him is weak and the breaths that interrupt the silence are shallow.
“Just save my kids,” Gojo pleads.
It’s fear, Nanami realizes, not for himself, even though death could be just a minute or two from visiting. It’s a vulnerability that not many witness, an admittance that so much of it is an act—that Satoru Gojo, like any other human, cares.
“Shoko is on her way,” Nanami tells him, finding Gojo’s eyes to make sure he’s listening. “Prove everything you’ve told me about yourself is true; stay alive.”
Nanami thinks he tries to laugh, but it just comes out as a wheeze. With a nod, he stands and heads past the kitchen, where he knows the door to Tsumiki’s room and the bathroom are. The shadows as he approaches seem to be moving, shaking almost. What he doesn’t expect to find is Gojo, one hand wrapped around Megumi’s throat, keeping him just barely off the ground, and the other claw-like, trailing a finger down the kid’s cheek and drawing blood.
The wall behind Megumi is darker than normal as he tries to pull on the shadows to do anything, but he’s barely done any real training besides summoning some shikigami, and the shadows refuse to come to his aid. Nanami draws his blade as he assesses the situation, thinking over the best location to place a weak spot. All he knows of the curse user from what Megumi shared is an ability to block other’s cursed energy, which is most likely still Gojo’s as he hasn’t healed himself.
Just below the neck, not deep enough to cause permanent damage if Shoko can assist, but enough to cut into the spinal cord, right between the vertebrae. They both crumple to the floor—Megumi, because he’s no longer being held up, and the curse user, whose own body can no longer hold themself up. He steps over the curse user’s body to crouch down next to Megumi who is gasping in air and rests a hand on his back until his breathing evens out more.
“Where’s your sister?”
Megumi points towards the open window in response and jumps up, heading out of the room without another word. Nanami turns his attention to the curse user, who no longer appears like Gojo but someone he’s never seen before, looking them over to ensure there’s no longer a threat while they all wait for Yaga and Shoko to show up and decide what happens next.
“Even if I don’t take his power, I was still able to kill him.” They say with a chuckle, clearly trying to dig at Nanami.
He almost doesn’t take the bait, almost—and he would absolutely deny everything he says if Gojo were to ask later, but he finds himself squatting down to be closer as he corrects them.
“He’s not dead yet, and he’s not going to be. You see, being the strongest isn’t just about having the strongest technique or about having physical strength, it’s about having a strong heart. That stubborn idiot is going to fight with everything he has to stay alive, because you made the same mistake as the last person who tried to kill him—you walked away before the job was done.”
“He still can’t heal, not as long as I’m alive to keep him from doing so.”
Nanami stood back up, moving away to lounge against the wall while he waited.
“Then it’s a good thing we have someone who can.”
--
“Gojo?”
God, he was so tired. Couldn’t they just let him have five more minutes to—
“Satoru!”
His eyes are open instantly, looking at Megumi, whose hands hover near his shoulders, most likely debating if shaking him awake would make things worse.
“Meg,” he chokes out, a cough stopping him from saying more.
Megumi’s hands move over his, forcing his weak hold to apply more pressure, and he really must look like shit if the kid hasn’t said anything about the nickname and even used his given name.
“Tell me what to do to help,” Megumi says, eyes pleading and full of worry.
“Just glad you’re alive,” every other word is interrupted by him taking a breath, but he still manages a smile at the end.
“That’s not a way to help you, stupid.”
Satoru tries to laugh, but it comes out more of a huff, and he pulls a hand away from Megumi’s to brush against the other’s face, accidentally smearing blood against his cheek.
“Be nice, I'm dying.”
“That--that’s not funny.”
He just hums in response and lets his hand fall, trying his best not to let his eyes fall closed again, but God is it hard.
“Did Nanami...” he doesn’t finish the question, but Megumi must still understand what he means.
“He’s still with them, alive.”
“Bummer,”
“Did you...want him to?”
Satoru thinks about it, truly thinks, and can’t come up with an answer.
“I’d be able to heal at least,” he tries to laugh again, but it turns into a cough that won’t stop until suddenly he’s choking on his own blood and he can’t breathe.
Satoru grabs at Megumi, though he’s unsure what he even wants to ask of the kid; as if there’s anything he can ask. God, just let him tell his kid he loves him for the last time. Shit, Tsumiki, he needs to tell her too. Where did she even go?
Megumi pulls Satoru’s hands away and stands up, face resolute, and Satoru knows he has to stop him before he makes whatever choice he’s decided.
“Shoko’s not here and you need to heal.”
He just manages to grab Megumi’s pant leg before the kid can walk off.
“No,” Satoru gasps, his voice wet with the blood on his tongue.
There’s so much anger on his face when Megumi turns back around, and he knows it’s not directed towards him, but he also feels like maybe it should be.
“Satoru, if it’s you or them, I choose you.”
Satoru does his best to shake his head, to convey without words that this isn’t how they do this. He isn’t even a sorcerer yet, doesn’t want him to make this kind of choice at only thirteen. Satoru himself shouldn’t have been forced to make the choice at sixteen. He just wants his kid to continue being a kid for as long as possible, wants to give him the freedom he never had.
“Then what’s the fucking point then?” Megumi yells, his face scrunching up as he tries not to cry.
Satoru wants to answer him, wants to scold him for his language. Wants to hold him close but also wants to just close his damn eyes. He wants, he wants, and he wants. But life isn’t always about wants when it comes to being the strongest; it’s about needs. He needs to teach Megumi that sorcerers save lives, not take them; he needs to tease his kids about growing up and remember what it was like to chase them around when he was still a kid himself. He needs more time to just be with them, and he needs to fucking live.
Shoko’s closer, he forces himself to block everything out but her to see, but she’s still not close enough. Instead, he focuses on that thread he saw before, finds that semi-physical connection to his cursed energy.
“Meg, hand,” he forces out, spitting blood onto the floor to clear it from his mouth, “with energy.”
Megumi wipes away the tears that fall against his wishes, before holding a hand out to Satoru, forcing as much cursed energy into it that he can. Satoru doesn’t know if it’ll work, but he knows it’ll take cursed energy to interact with it, so he uses Megumi’s hand to grab ahold of what he sees and hopes. Then, he pulls.
Megumi must feel it too from the way he gasps as the air around them snaps, and in that moment, the world feels lighter again.
He starts with his lungs, he’s pretty sure one of them was punctured, and then moves out from there. Once his skin has stitched itself back together, he stands on wobbly feet and looks to the door when he can sense Tsumiki approaching hesitantly.
“Are you okay?” he asks, giving her the courage to poke her head in.
She runs to him immediately, her body slamming into him as she gives him a hug.
“I-I thought,” she stammers, not afraid to let her tears fall unlike her brother.
“I know,” Satoru whispers against her hair, his arms wrapping around her to hug her back. ”I’m sorry, to both of you.” He turns them so he can continue hugging Tsumiki but is able to look at Megumi as well. “I promise you, it will not happen again.”
Tsumiki reaches her hand out for Megumi, who allows her to pull him into the hug with a little less resistance than he normally would have. Satoru allows himself to have a moment with them, before he kisses them each on the head and pulls away.
“Tsumiki, help your brother pack a bag and I’ll get your things. You two are staying with me tonight.”
He watches them go, Tsumiki pulling Megumi along by the hand, before he walks away himself. The bathroom is right across from Tsumiki’s room and it’s tempting to stop at the open door, but he forces himself to continue into her room and collect her things, albeit after wiping his hands onto his jeans to remove as much of his blood off them as possible. Once he’s slung her pink backpack full of clothes over one shoulder, he tells himself he has to get their toothbrushes and other toiletries, which is, most definitely, the only reason he doesn’t immediately go back to the kids and instead goes straight to the bathroom.
With a smile plastered on his face, he ignores Nanami standing against the wall and the curse user on the ground, instead going straight to the vanity to gather what he assumes the siblings will need.
“Gojo,” Nanami says, eyebrows raised in surprise, “did Shoko--”
“Nope,” Satoru responds, sliding some of Tsumiki’s hair ties into the bag. “She’s about, hm, a minute out I’d say?” He finally spins around once he’s zipped the bag back up, his eyes on the curse user instead of Nanami. “I did this all by myself. I am curious though, what did it feel like when I broke the connection myself? No, don’t answer that; I’m sure we’ll have plenty of time to talk later.”
Nanami stays silent, knows it’s best to let Satoru do his thing, but he’s pretty sure he catches the faintest twitch of smile on Nanami’s lips. He makes it out the door before he’s turning back around, smile widening as he looms over the curse user.
“By the way, I know what it feels like now, your energy, so I can assure you that little technique of yours won’t stop me again.” He bends down a little, his smile gone and his eyes bright in the darkened room. “You should’ve never used his face against me; I know his cursed energy as if it’s my own. That’s the thing about love, you know; it’s a double-edged sword—both a weakness and a strength.”
Shoko comes running into the apartment just as he rounds the corner into the main room, Yaga just a few seconds behind her.
“Satoru, you’re--” she says, before he rudely interrupts.
“All better! But thank you for coming. There’s a present in the bathroom for you, Yaga, which I can assure you is not what it sounds like.”
Shoko and Yaga give each other a look before he moves further into the house while Shoko goes to Satoru to give him a look over.
“Quite a lot of blood on the floor, why don’t you let me take a look anyways.”
“No need, I took care of it all.”
“Satoru, as the one who actually has a medical license, just let me double check, okay?”
He knows it’s her way of saying she was worried without saying it, so he sighs and holds his hands out to the side like he’s getting a pat down.
“Fine, but only if you give me whatever counts as bandages in your first aid kit. Ever since that asshole gave my eyes a little reboot everything’s been a bit too much. And I may have broken my glasses.”
He uses it now to check their surroundings and make sure it’s still relatively safe. Yaga and Nanami are talking in the other room, still no movement from fuckface on the floor (he really needs to thank Nanami after all of this); Ijichi is outside by the car, talking on the phone. The kids are last, still in Megumi’s bedroom, where Megumi is holding Tsumiki while she cries.
“I should’ve listened to you all today,” Satoru tells Shoko as her hand moves along his chest, double checking everything internal was healed properly.
“You want to write that down for the next time you don’t listen?”
“I’m serious, Shoko. If I had just handled it instead of letting it get delegated to others--”
“They were already in Tokyo by the time Mei Mei even got there to check it out.”
“But I could’ve been there and back in seconds. I could’ve--”
“They were looking for you specifically, Satoru. It wouldn’t have mattered.”
“I know, Shoko. I fucking saw them at the school. I could tell something was off and I just, I ignored it. I fucking ignored it. My kids are going to be terrified to be in their own home now and I couldn’t--I couldn’t protect them. I almost lost them, Shoko.”
He can feel the sting behind his eyes that comes before tears and it’s too much, so he digs the heel of his hands into his eyes and lets out a frustrated groan. Shoko’s hands move away and he can hear her digging in her kit, before her hands are pulling his own away from his eyes and placing a roll of bandages in them.
“You’re overstimulated and freaking out,”
“I think I’m owed a little bit of a freak out.”
“Not saying you aren’t, but it’ll help. Then I can fix the shit job you did healing your throat.”
“It wasn’t really a priority in the moment,” he admits, taking the offer and covering his eyes.
He tries not to flinch when her hands rest on his neck, hopes she doesn’t notice, but he can tell when they make eye contact, at least on his end, that she does.
“Now I see why your coat has such a big collar; that’s two times someone’s sliced you open like a fish.”
He looks away from her, does his best to bite back what he really wants to say, before settling on something else.
“Thanks, Shoko.”
Infinity is back the moment she’s done and pulls away from him, and he finally lets himself take a breath at the feeling of safety it provides.
“Will you come by tomorrow to let me check again?”
“I’ll be there anyways to teach, so I suppose.”
“Of course you will. Do me a favor and at least try to get as much rest tonight as you can? And then just like, give them a movie day or something like normal highschoolers. They could use it after one of their classmates died.”
Right, another child that he failed to protect. He gives her a nod to at least acknowledge her words and moves to Megumi’s door, giving it a knock to let them know he’s ready to go.
He’d offered over and over for them to move in with him when he first found them living alone and doing what they could to survive, even suggesting they take his bedroom, but they refused over and over until they finally settled on allowing him to get them a new apartment closer to his. It’s only ten to fifteen minutes away walking, but he accepts Ijichi’s offer of a ride for the kid’s sake, cutting it down to barely five.
The couch is calling his name once they’ve made it past the door, and he barely shuffles out of his shoes at the entrance before he makes a beeline for it, falling across it and leaving no room for anyone else. He wants to sleep so badly, but he can’t, not yet. He’s also still covered in his dried blood and should probably take a shower.
“You guys take the bed, I’m good right here.”
He can hear Megumi scoff from all the way across the room, his footsteps getting louder as he approaches the couch where Satoru is lying.
“That’s stupid, you just bled out all over our apartment.” Megumi tells him, resulting in a sigh from Tsumiki from his choice of words.
“What Megumi is trying to say is that you need it more than we do,” Tsumiki tries instead.
Satoru sits up, knowing it’s not going to be an easy won argument, and levels a look towards Megumi the kid can’t even see behind the bandages.
“Yeah, kid,” Satoru responds to Megumi, ignoring Tsumiki entirely, “now your apartment is unusable and therefore the hospitable thing to do is offer you mine. So, take the bed.”
“No, the right thing to do is offer the bed to the person who almost died.”
“Which is all of us, so I guess we’re all taking the bed.”
“Fine.”
“Fine!”
“Are you two fucking done now?” Tsumiki pipes up, her voice squeaking a little.
“Miki,” Satoru turns to her, hand across his chest dramatically, “watch your fucking language.”
She stares at him a moment, irritation evident, before it falls away and her eyes find the ground.
“I’m sorry,”
Megumi gives him a look, a ‘see what you’ve done now’, and shakes his head.
“Sweetie, it’s okay, it was just a joke. How about putting a movie on, hm? I can even make popcorn like a regular sleepover.”
“But this isn’t a regular sleepover.”
“You’re right,” he admits, standing up from the couch. “That’s my fault and I’m just trying to figure out what I can do to fix it.”
“You already apologized, Gojo.” Megumi adds in, and Satoru frowns a little. Damn, the moment’s over and it’s back to the family name already.
He’s also close enough now that he can finally see the smear of blood across Megumi’s face and the bandage on the other side.
“Are you bleeding?” he asks, previous conversation forgotten as he rushes forward and holds Megumi’s face to take a look.
“No, you idiot, it’s your blood. The other one is just a small cut, it’s fine.”
“Why didn’t you say something? I could’ve had Shoko look it over before we left.”
“Because it’s just a small little cut, Gojo. I wasn’t the one to be worried about.”
He can hear the anger bleeding into Megumi’s words and knows they can’t just pretend like everything’s fine and call it a night.
“What else?”
“What?”
“What else do you need to say to me? Say it.”
Megumi looks to Tsumiki first, must make a decision on who gets to talk first, before his fury is back on Satoru.
“You almost died and you wouldn’t let me go help.”
“That’s because your idea of help was killing someone, Megumi.”
Tsumiki gasps and he feels a little guilty over the bluntness of his words, but also knows it’s the only way to get Megumi to understand.
“Only because you said--”
“And I shouldn’t have; I shouldn’t have put that idea into your head. Killing someone isn’t something you can take back. It will stay with you forever. I don’t want that for you.”
“And if the roles were reversed?”
“Without hesitation. But my hands have been bloody for years now and it’s my job to protect you, not the other way around.”
“So, I’m just supposed to let you die?”
“I didn’t.”
“But you could’ve, Satoru!” Megumi shouts at him, voice cracking as his anger finally breaks into the despair he’s really feeling. “I held you while you were drowning on your own blood.”
“I’m sorry,”
“Stop! Stop saying that! I don’t want you to apologize, I want you to say you won’t do it again! I don’t want to lose you too.”
“I can’t, Megumi. I can promise you I’ll make it near impossible for the next person who tries to take a shot at me, but I can’t promise you that.”
“You said you’re the strongest.”
“I am.”
“Then promise me you won’t leave us like that.”
“I can’t.”
He knows the punch is coming before Megumi’s even drawn his fist back and does nothing as it hits against infinity, which seems to piss Megumi off even more.
“I hate you! I wish you never found us!”
He lets him go, waits for the slam of the bedroom door before he turns to Tsumiki.
“He doesn’t actually hate you,” she reassures him, voice quiet compared to Megumi’s before.
“I know. So, your turn. What do you need to say?”
She twists a hand in her pajama shirt, taking a moment to find her words and think them through, unlike her brother.
“I don’t understand these things like you two do and some might think that makes it easier, but it doesn’t, it just makes it scarier. A normal person doesn’t see and continues on not knowing, but I know and just can’t see. And I know that what happened today is different cause it’s, like, a person who uses the curse like you guys or whatever, but I still don’t understand it, and it feels isolating.”
Satoru knows it’s a serious moment and tries not to smile at Tsumiki’s description of Jujutsu Society, but he fails.
“We don’t use curses, well, unless that’s your thing. That’s not the point, though. I know it must be difficult, not being a part of this other world when everyone around you is and that we talk about it so casually. To be fair, I'd rather murder not get talked about casually, but it’s an unfortunate part of both worlds that sorcerers deal with often. But I’ll try to do better.”
“Thank you,”
“I never intended for my work to follow me home and I promise you I will do everything I can to make sure it never happens again, but I can’t make any promises like Megumi’s.”
“I understand that and I think he does too. It’s just, well, when I think of you, I just assume you’ll always be around, because you’re you. You chose us and you stayed.”
Did he choose them? Sure, Toji made him aware of Megumi’s existence, but he had no obligations to actually seek the kid out. Nobody forced him to put a claim on the child with the promise of Megumi becoming a sorcerer. Even if he had promised Toji to look after Megumi, nothing said he had to extend that to Tsumiki. But, of course he did, because who could look at two children left to fend on their own and not want to ensure they had everything they could want and more in life?
He may have chosen them, but, if so, then they chose him back.
“It was the easiest choice I’ve ever made. And as much as I’d love to make that promise, to stay with you two forever, it’s impossible, much like you can’t either. But what I can promise you, is I don’t intend for that to be anytime soon, okay? I’ll be here with you two as long as I can, for as long as you’ll have me. That, I promise you.”
“Deal,” she agrees, holding her hand out for him to shake. They meet each other halfway, where Satoru gives her a hug instead.
“Now let’s go to bed before grumpy pants steals all the blankets for himself.”
Sure enough, Megumi is already snuggled under the blankets and he has both of his divine dogs on either side of him, taking up over half the bed. He helps Tsumiki get comfortable on the other side, pushing the fluffballs out of the way for her when needed, before sneaking off to finally get out of his blood-soaked clothes. It’s cathartic in a way, watching all the red pour down the drain of the shower until the water is clear again.
They’re both asleep by the time he gets done, and he watches the slow rise and fall of their chests to confirm they are in fact just sleeping, before he slips out of the bedroom to pull on a jacket and his shoes. The door clicks quietly behind him and he peers beyond the door, back to where the other two sleep, before allowing himself to take the stairs up to the roof. He closes his eyes for a moment, exhales, then allows everything in as he floats up to a better vantage point. His six eyes search the city, sensing for anything amiss—anything that screams danger—and then they search again, and again, and again.
It isn’t until he senses the movement in his own apartment that he finally touches the roof again and heads back inside. Megumi is sitting on the couch when Satoru enters, his white divine dog curled in his lap while its other half remains to watch over Tsumiki.
“Why aren’t you sleeping?” Satoru asks, remaining by the door after it’s closed.
Megumi is silent and, at first, Satoru is unsure if it’s due to him processing his thoughts or because he’s giving Satoru the silent treatment. Thankfully, it seems to be the former.
“I was, but when I woke up you were gone,” Megumi’s words carry across the open room and finally force Satoru to move, his shoes and jacket discarded haphazardly so he can get right to what’s most important.
He sits on his knees in front of Megumi, one hand coming up to card through the kid’s unruly hair, which surprisingly isn’t swatted away. The breath Megumi lets out when he reaches his own hand down to rest against Satoru’s neck, against his pulse, when he’s allowed to seek that comfort, tears Satoru’s own from his lungs.
“I was still here; I could see you. I’m not going anywhere tonight.”
“I...” Megumi stops, unable to finish what he wants to say, unsure how to even begin.
“I know, it’s okay. You don’t have to say it, Megumi.”
“I don’t regret you finding us. Thank you, Satoru.”
Satoru knows what he’s saying between the lines, knows it’s as close to ‘I love you’ as the kid can manage.
“I love you too, kid.”
“Whatever,” Megumi mumbles, pulling his hand away to lean back against the couch, face pink with embarrassment. “Can we do that movie and popcorn, now?”
Satoru moves his hand to pet the big white fluffball once Megumi’s moved away from him, smiling despite how the night started.
“Don’t you want to go back to sleep?”
“Are you going to?”
Satoru’s hand stops moving in White’s fur and he looks at Megumi, neither of them backing down from their impromptu staring contest.
“Well played.” Satoru concedes, standing up to stretch. “I won’t be able to sleep until, uh, never mind. What about Tsumiki?”
“Do you want to wake her up and deal with her being cranky?”
“Alright, so you pick the movie, I’ll get the popcorn, and Tsumiki gets to stay in dreamland.”
In the morning, Megumi chases Tsumiki around the apartment, trying to snatch her phone away to delete the photo of him and Satoru asleep on the couch. Satoru prepares breakfast for them all while they do, smiling at their squeals and laughter, and reminisces them doing the same when much smaller. Breakfast itself is a mostly quiet affair, though it’s a comfortable silence.
“I packed your uniform, but you two are welcome to stay here today,” Satoru tells them once he’s finished up and puts away his dishes.
“I can’t go to school anyways, remember?” Megumi chimes in.
“Right, remind me to call the school about that.”
“Are you going to stay too?” Tsumiki asks, though Megumi’s face says he was wondering about it too.
He moves back to the table to ruffle both of their hair, which gets a glare from Megumi and a giggle from Tsumiki. God, he wants nothing more than to stay home with them all day.
“I have a few things I need to settle, but then I’ll come right back. I’ll even pick something up for lunch on my way back; just text me what you guys decide.”
“You barely even slept,” Megumi tries.
“Fun fact, kiddo, that’s every night for me.”
“But do you almost die every night?”
He’s freshly bandaged up, so the two of them can’t really have a stare-off, but Megumi does a decent job of guessing where Satoru’s line of sight is and holds it.
“I just need to run to the school. I’ll be gone for a few hours at most.”
“We’ll think about what we want for lunch while you’re gone,” Tsumiki speaks up, trying to diffuse the semi-tension.
He flashes her a quick smile and then sticks his tongue out at Megumi, before heading to the door with a quick ‘see ya’ over his shoulder.
Yaga doesn’t react at all when Satoru’s suddenly in his office a moment later, so he must be expecting him. Satoru lets him finish up whatever paperwork he’s working on, choosing instead to take a seat and wait. As soon as he’s done and put it to the side, however...
“So, what’s the verdict?” Satoru asks, not giving any further context. He knows it won’t be needed.
“You already know what it is,” Yaga answers him. Satoru hums in acknowledgement but says nothing more. “Why, are you thinking of throwing your name into the hat?”
“Maybe. How would you feel about that?”
Yaga studies him for a moment. He’s always been able to somehow see beyond whatever facade Satoru puts up.
“Some might think you have more of a right than anyone else to be the executioner.”
“Do I? Do I have any more of a right this time than I did the first? I made that choice myself.”
“And do you regret that choice?”
Yaga’s managed to ask the million-dollar question; the one Satoru often asks himself. He’ll never regret what he’s gained from it, but there’s so many what-if's.
“Do you think he had the potential to change? Did I take away that opportunity?”
“I think you’ll never find the answer you want if you continuously ask yourself what could be; focus on what is.”
He takes in Yaga’s words, knows what he’s really being told is to stop pondering about the past and focus on the moment.
“If my hand deals the final blow to the one that attacked me, is that truly justice or is that just revenge?”
Yaga laughs, which is odd considering nothing Satoru said is remotely close to a joke, so Satoru just tilts his head at him in confusion and waits for an elaboration.
“Sorry, you’ve just become quite philosophical in your post-almost-mortem state.”
“So you’re laughing at my death? I’ll remember that when it’s your time, old man.”
“It’s out of character is all, Satoru. I think you’re overthinking it.”
“Yeah, well, the last time I almost died I had two less responsibilities. Guess it’s made me think a bit more.”
“Parenthood will do that to you.”
They sit in a companiable silence, Satoru thinking over his decision and Yaga giving him the time to do so. He stands up after a few moments and stretches just to give himself something to do with his pent-up energy.
“How many techniques does he have?” Satoru asks, unable to sate his curiosity.
“If what he says is the truth, seven. His original being that which allows him to consume others' cursed energy and their technique in turn.”
“So he became special grade from all the energy he gained. If he’d taken both mine and Megumi’s...” the rest of the sentence goes unsaid, but they both know the answer. They’d have a curse user with more cursed energy than even Satoru has.
“I don’t want my name in the hat,” Satoru finally says after a moment passes. “All I want is for you to tell me there’s no emergency calling my name and then I want to go home.”
Yaga gives him a nod, which Satoru takes as his cue to leave.
“Perhaps tend to your students while you’re here first.” Yaga adds just as he’s leaving the room. “Oh, and Shoko mentioned you’re supposed to see her, but otherwise you’re free to do as you please.”
“Nothing else? You need a coffee or anything?”
“Are you offering?”
“Hell no,” he answers with a grin, slamming the door shut behind him.
Tokyo, Japan. July 2015
-four days after the incident-
The smell of curry and the sound of pop music hangs in the air when Satoru opens his apartment door, which isn’t unusual when he’s home himself, but the laughter from the couch is an addition that has a smile on his face instantly. He stands at the back of the couch, watching Tsumiki and Megumi fight each other in a round of Smash Bros, and waits until Megumi is declared the winner to throw himself over the back to sit between the two of them. Tsumiki seems to lean into him more, while Megumi makes an annoyed face, though he doesn’t move further away.
“There’s a bowl of dinner for you in the fridge if you want it,” Tsumiki tells him, glancing at him for only a moment before she’s looking back at the tv to pick her character.
“I’ll eat later,” Satoru states, grabbing the spare Wii remote when Megumi hands it to him. “First I have to do my duty as the strongest and wipe the floor with you two.”
“As if,” Megumi mumbles as he jabs his elbow into Satoru’s side.
Satoru shoves his head into the side of the couch in retaliation with no real strength behind it, and Tsumiki uses the distraction to ready their controllers so the game starts when neither of them are ready. They scramble for their controllers immediately, Megumi accusing her of cheating while Satoru just laughs. By the fifth time he’s beaten them both, he’s slid off the couch and is leaning against it instead, his head leaning back on the cushion so he can look up at the kids.
“I got a call today about the apartment. You two are good to go back as of tomorrow,” he informs, already resigning himself to coming home to an empty apartment again.
Megumi and Tsumiki look at each other for a moment, as if they’re having a telepathic conversation, before Megumi looks away with an eye roll. Tsumiki is beaming when she looks at him, seemingly the winner of whatever passed between the siblings.
“We were thinking we could stay until school is over next week, if that’s okay?” she asks.
“Oh, yeah, of course.” He forces his voice to be normal, though there’s a warmth swelling up inside of him, threatening to choke him up. “My home is your home.”
“See, I told you he’d say yes,” she says to Megumi, resulting in the boy opposite her on the couch to flounder and turn red.
“Shut up,” he hisses, trying to turn away before he can be seen, but it’s too late.
“Oh, Megumi,” Satoru sings, “was it your idea to stay? You can just say you’d miss me, it’s okay.”
“I wouldn’t miss a loser like you.”
Satoru turns to Tsumiki instead, ignoring Megumi.
“He’d miss me, wouldn’t he?”
She laughs in response, which causes Satoru to laugh as well, and in the end they both get a throw pillow hurled at their faces by Megumi.
He knows he won’t be around forever—knows he can’t promise them he will—but as he watches the situation devolve into a pillow fight, both of them calling him a cheater and ganging up on him when pillows bounce off his infinity, he knows he’ll never stop trying to fulfill it to his full potential. He’ll give everything he has to return to his family.