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It was far past midnight when he heard the noise. A crash coming from down the hall. He’d been walking back to his room when he heard it, and it sounded bad. His six eyes sensed cursed energy coming from that direction, though it didn’t read well at all. It was erratic, flickering, and unstable. It was so messed up, in fact, that he couldn’t tell whose energy he was reading.
He’d just come back from a mission that’d lasted longer than he’d liked, and all he wanted to do was take a quick shower and collapse in bed. However, he couldn’t just ignore this, could he? No, something was up, and he needed to see exactly why someone was up so late, what the crash was, and send them to bed. Being away for three days didn’t mean that his students could do… whatever it was that person was doing.
The closer he got, the more concerned he became. It wasn’t coming from the training room like he thought would be the more probable option, given the crash.
It was coming from Megumi’s room.
He slowly approached the door, testing it first to see if by chance it’d be unlocked. When that proved wrong, he knocked lightly.
“Megumi?”
There was another crash and a muffled curse. It was Megumi’s voice, so what was so wrong with his cursed energy?
“Megs?” He knocked again.
“Give me a sec.” But he sounded so worn, so tired, and Satoru felt his anxiety rising with each passing second. He both heard and saw —through his six eyes— the boy moving around, finishing whatever it was he was doing and shuffling over before he finally cracked the door open.
“Hey,” Satoru said, and slipped off his blindfold. He got a good look at Megumi, and had to manually stop his eyes from widening at the sight. He looked terrible. His under eyes were bruised to the point it looked like he got punched, his hair was a mess— and not his usual spikey mess. It genuinely looked like he hadn’t brushed it in days. His face was deathly pale, and it looked like his white knuckled grip on the door was less annoyance and more to keep himself upright.
“Hey,” he muttered back, and his voice sounded hoarse and gravely.
Satoru tried to nudge the door open, relenting quickly when Megumi didn’t budge.
Megumi’s eyes roamed over him, dull and lifeless. Something seemed to settle though, somewhere within him, and he sighed, something close to relief settling over his features.
Had Megumi been… worried about him while he was out on his mission?
“How you doin’?” He tried to gently prod while lightening the mood at the same time. Megumi didn’t seem to appreciate it though if the sigh he gave meant anything. He merely shrugged.
“Fine.”
He wasn't fine. Didn’t look it in the slightest. His sweater hung off his frame, much more baggy than he remembered. He looked… sickly, almost.
Had he been eating?
“Megs, are you alright?” He pushed the door a little harder, silently asking Megumi to let him in.
“I said I’m fine.” His grip on the door tightened, his eyes hardening. There was something else— something in his eyes. Satoru could see it. Hidden behind this front he was putting on. What it was he couldn’t tell, but he couldn’t just leave it alone. Usually, when Megumi was this adamant about dropping a topic, Satoru would. The further someone pushed him, the more he clammed up. This though— something was wrong. Very, very wrong.
“Megs, please…” He sighed, foot moving inside the room subtly, just in case he tried to physically shut him out.
“I said I’m fine.” But his voice cracked, and both of them noticed. Megumi’s eyes widened ever so slightly, a slight panic overtaking him. His eyes never left Satoru’s, glazed over with the desperation of a dying man.
An image came to the forefront of his mind, then. Suguru, a couple of weeks before he defected. He wore the same expression that the boy in front of him wore now.
That of a dying man.
Fuck.
Satoru had a desperation of his own now, so desperate to drag Megumi back, to know what was wrong, to fix it. He could fix it, couldn’t he? He would make it better. He was the strongest, he could do anything and everything.
But he couldn't save Suguru. He’d be damned, damned to the depths of hell and all the way back, if he couldn’t save his son either.
“Please Megs,” He stepped forward, and he saw as Megumi’s resolve crumbled, “talk to me.”
Staying out of it was what led to Suguru doing what he did. Trusting that Suguru would come to him is what led him to doing what he did. He’d trusted that if Suguru couldn’t figure it out by himself, he’d come to Satoru so they could work through it together.
And then he’d murdered more than a hundred people, murdered his parents, and left. And then he died.
If he had to press, if he had to push, he would. Anything to keep Megumi from falling over that edge, from giving into that same oblivion.
Megumi’s shoulders dropped, his ironclad grip of the door finally loosened, his arm falling limp at his side. He muttered a morose “Fine” and stalked back to his bed, sitting on the foot of it.
As Satoru stepped inside, he tried to not let the anguish show on his face. It was a disaster. Megumi’s room was never messy, everything was always organized and neat. But now, there were clothes everywhere, trash all over the floor, the smell of mildew from what, he had no clue. The room was in such a state that couldn’t have possibly happened over only the three days he’d been away. This had been going on for longer and he simply hadn’t noticed. He hadn’t noticed his own son was drowning.
He felt sick.
Megumi stared at him with those dead, dead eyes, waiting for him to start the conversation. He locked the door for privacy, and approached the bed. He waved his hand, silently asking Megumi to scoot backwards to make space for him.
The boy winced as he did.
The atmosphere around the bed specifically felt suffocating, something that slowly fills your lungs as you gasp for a breath you know you won’t get. He sat, hands clasped in his lap, and looked, truly looked at the boy in front of him.
“What’s wrong, ‘Gumi? You usually don’t let your room get like this.” Wrong thing to say apparently, going by the way Megumi winced, right hand coming up to scratch at his left arm through the sweater.
He tried to backtrack. “It’s not the room I care about, I just— There’s something wrong, isn’t there? You can tell me.”
Megumi pulled his legs in, crossing them as his hand continued to scratch at his arm.
“... ‘ve been meaning to clean it…” his hair seemed to droop down with his gaze, trained so vacantly on the sheets. Satoru let out a breath, dragging a hand through his hair, messing with the strand as he thought of what to do. What could he possibly say to make this better? To make Megumi open up? He didn’t want to force him, but he needed to know before Megumi ended up doing something that neither of them could fix.
“I need—” he dragged a ragged breath in, eyes locked on the top of Megumi’s head, “I want to help, kiddo. I really do, but I can’t if I don’t know what’s wrong. You have to give me something to work with here.”
He’d do anything, anything at all to make it better. He’d tear apart the world, he’d raze it to the ground, he’d do anything.
Megumi just shrugged.
“Just not feeling my best, I guess.”
Through what little Satoru could see of his face —most of it covered by his hair— he saw the way Megumi’s features were pulled into that of pain, and his eyes fell on the hand still scratching away at his arm. He had a habit of doing that when he was anxious, though Satoru had thought he’d grown out of it after middle school.
He’d hurt himself doing that.
“Hey, kiddo,” He reached over, hand outstretched to take the boy’s, both to provide comfort and to make sure he didn’t scratch himself bloody, even through the sweater, “You’re gonna hurt yourself like that.”
He stopped when Megumi flinched back, his hand hovering over the boy’s, whose fist clenched the fabric of the sweater, and most likely, the skin beneath as well.
“... Sorry,” he muttered.
Satoru bit his lip, slowly taking his boy’s hand in his. His mind was running at a mile a minute, thinking of anything he could do to make this go away, to bring back the Megumi from a month ago, when he was okay. He just wanted him to be okay.
“Megs, don’t apologize.” The last thing he wanted was to be another source of anxiety for him.
But then, in the glow of the moonlight, he saw it. The wince when he pulled his scratched hand in between them, the small splotches of something dark on the sweater where he’d been scratching.
Damn, he really had scratched himself bloody. How long had he been scratching for before Satoru got there?
“You’re bleeding.” A very obvious observation, but it also served as an explanation to Megumi for the reason Satoru’s other hand came to rest on his wrist, slipping under the sleeve to survey the damage.
He was caught off guard, however, when his hand was suddenly caught in a deathgrip by Megumi’s. He glanced up, his own surprised eyes meeting Megumi’s, his green irises blown out wide in panic. Breaths, heaving and rushed, like he was struggling to get air in, sounded through the room.
“It’s fine, I’ll deal with it myself.”
What a liar, if he left Megumi like this, he wouldn’t clean them for shit and they’d get infected. Though, telling him that might just lead to something worse, like Megumi kicking him out of his room, so he phrased it lighter, in a way that wouldn’t come across as Satoru thinking he was incompetent— which he didn’t! Megumi was more than capable, he had been one of the most competent people he knew even from a young age. He just knew that in this state, Megumi wouldn’t take care of himself. He’d seen it before, when Tsumiki first fell into a coma. The way Megumi shattered, the way he wouldn’t come out of his room. He only showered and brushed his teeth whenever Satoru dragged him to the bathroom, only ate when Satoru brought the food to his room and sat with him while he picked at it, only stepped outside whenever Satoru dragged him out to go on a walk in which Megumi would linger behind him like a ghost.
“Let me just get you cleaned up and I’ll leave you alone if that’s what you want, what were you even doing before I got here?” He tried to move his hand, but Megumi’s kept it in place, his grip unrelenting.
“Megs.” He pleaded, hoping he’d at least let Satoru help with this if nothing else.
His grip faltered, just for a second and Satoru used it to carefully raise the sleeve, as he didn’t want to agitate the scratches. A sound, choked and terrified, wretched its way out of Megumi’s throat.
“Wait— wait wait no stop—” Megumi grasped uselessly at Satoru’s wrist, but it was too late, Satoru had already pulled the sleeve all the way up to his elbow.
Out of his peripheral vision and his six eyes, he saw Megumi turn his head away, hiding his face with his hair as he trembled.
“Oh…” He breathed, and oh was right. His breath hitched as he took it in, the angry red lines littering his boy’s arm. They weren’t vertical as would have been caused by his scratching, though the blood was smeared that way, making it look like the whole arm had been shredded.
His arm was covered in them, some close to fading, most still red and angry and bleeding and hurting and oh god Megumi.
He hadn’t realized he’d spoken the last part aloud until Megumi flinched, the hand around Satoru’s wrist falling away to his lap, clenching and unclenching, digging his nails into his skin.
“Why…” the words evaded him, slipped from his fingers faster and faster the more he looked at what lay before him.
“I’m sorry.”
He sounded so small, so defeated, so close to tears.
He inhaled deeply, gathering the courage to have this conversation, and he said, voice as low and soothing as he could make it. Keep him as calm as possible, keep him as comfortable as possible, don’t raise your voice.
“Don’t apologize, it’s… just don’t apologize, you don’t have to.”
He steeled himself with a steep inhale.
“Why, Megs? What’s going on?”
Megumi only bowed his head more. “Itadori.”
Huh?
“Itadori’s dead and I— I couldn’t save him, couldn’t help him, I couldn’t do anything.”
Right— he’d almost forgotten that Itadori was dead to everyone except Ijichi, Nanami, and himself.
“But that’s not your fault— why would you think you deserve this?” His eyes stung with unshed tears. Keep yourself in check. Calm down. The more you panic, the worse he’ll feel.
“I don’t think I deserve it,” Megumi let out a mirthless chuckle, “I was just feeling too much.”
He finally turned his head back to look at Satoru, and perhaps he saw the confusion in his face, because he continued.
“I know there was nothing I could have done, it’d be stupid to blame myself for it, but—” He was getting choked up now, clearing his throat uselessly, “It just…”
“Hurts.” Satoru knew the feeling all too well, had felt the same when Suguru died at his feet.
“Yeah.” His boy’s voice was wet, his eyes gazing into nothing as a lone tear freed itself from his lashes.
Satoru’s hand, the one holding his massacred arm from the bottom, started rubbing up and down the arm, his thumb gently kneading the skin. Perhaps it was that gentleness that broke the dam holding Megumi back, because he broke down into full on sobs, breaths hitching and coughing this sickly wet sound that tore Satoru’s heart in two.
“It seems like everyone always fucking leaves, you know?”
Oh god.
“First my mom dies, then my father and Tsumiki’s mom leave, then Tsumiki basically dies, now Itadori is dead— no one ever stays and sometimes,” he drags in a shuddering breath and his eyes find Satoru’s and they’re so wet because Megumi is crying his baby is crying and it’s all his fault— “sometimes it feels like I have to be cursed or something because what other explanation is there if I seem to be the common denominator?”
“And,” Eyes, so green, so beautiful, so anguished, looked up at him from the boy he swore he’d take care of for as long as he lived, “You’re the only one who’s stayed. Sometimes I think you’ll leave too, that you’ll get sick of me and never—” his voice broke, a sob wrenching its way out through his throat, “and never come back.” His voice cracked at the end, fresh tears flowing down his cheeks. He sounded so lost, so broken.
And it was Satoru’s fault.
His body moved before his brain, engulfing Megumi in a bone crushing hug. After a second of shock, he reciprocated, wrapping his arms around Satoru’s neck and squeezing.
“Oh Megumi,” he buried his face in his spikey yet soft hair, “Oh baby no. It’s not you, it’s not your fault. There’s nothing wrong with you.”
A shaky inhale. “I know, I know but it’s so much, it’s too much and it hurts and I need to get the emotions out or I’ll explode and that’s the only way that works. I need to bleed it out. Itadori’s gone and it’s the same thing over and over again because everyone leaves, and it builds and builds until I can’t fucking take it anymore.”
Megumi was being so honest, so open, so vulnerable even though he hated to be because he was hurt and he trusted Satoru.
He trusted him.
He trusted him and Satoru had been the cause of this whole thing in the first place.
He shushed him softly, threading his fingers through his hair as his boy sobbed into his shoulder.
He hated himself.
God, how could he have done this? How could he have let himself do this? How was he so blind? Six eyes, and he couldn’t even see when his own kid was suffering. He pulled him impossibly closer, rocking him slowly as he muttered apologizes into his hair.
“‘M sorry, I’m so sorry.” He squeezed his eyes shut, desperately trying not to cry. He needed to be strong. He needed to be strong for his son.
“It’s my fault, I’m sorry. God Megs I’m so fucking sorry.” He couldn’t stop them, the tears that flowed into his boy’s soft hair as they held onto each other like they’d disappear forever if they let go.
Megumi sniffled, “How’s it your fault? You weren’t even there, it was a set up.”
Satoru only dragged him even closer, taking a shuddering breath.
“I’m so sorry baby, I didn’t think—” Didn’t think it would affect him this much, didn’t think he’d cut himself over it, “I’m sorry.”
Megumi didn’t even get annoyed at being called baby, and Satoru felt himself truly start to cry with him. If he was so out of it he didn’t mind being called baby of all things, he was really far gone.
Megumi’s cries hadn’t quieted in the slightest, turning to hiccuping sobs as he fisted Satoru’s shirt where his arms were still wrapped around him. It was a visceral feeling, the feeling of having his heart torn apart because of the boy in his lap. He’d do anything to end it, to end the pain his boy was in.
Itadori hadn’t left him, it just wasn’t safe enough to come back at the moment.
If he knew that… maybe… maybe it’d all go away. No, that was a stupid thought, but it’d get better, wouldn’t it? He’d stop hurting himself, at least?
He was speaking before he registered the words, the consequences briefly flashing in his mind.
Megumi would hate him.
He’d hate him for keeping this a secret.
But that was a price he was willing to pay if it meant easing his boy’s pain. It’d have come up later anyways, so—
“Megs, honey, god I’m so sorry. I should’ve told you.” He grabbed him by the shoulders, gently pushing him back so they could face each other. It broke him, the way Megumi’s eyes shone, the wet trails tears had left down his cheeks, he was a sniffling, snotty, sobbing mess, and it was Satoru’s fault.
“I’m going to tell you something Megs, alright? But you can’t tell anyone— not Kugisaki, not any of the second years, not Yaga, not even your divine dogs. Don’t even think it too loudly, alright?” He rambled with such speed and desperation he saw Megumi’s brows pinch, trying to understand what he’d just said.
“O—” hic “kay…?”
Satoru dragged in a ragged breath.
“He’s not dead.”
Silence. Total. Absolute. It seemed to shock Megumi to the point he had completely stopped crying.
“What?”
“He’s not dead. He did die, but came back. We’re not really sure how, probably through some sort of deal with Sukuna. He’s back though, and—”
“Wait what? Where is he? Why didn’t you tell me?”
He dodged the first question. It was better in the long run if he didn’t know.
“If word gets out, if anyone knows, the higherups will find out one way or another, and then they really will kill him. He’s safe, I’m training him privately until the exchange event. You don’t have to worry anymore.” He pulled Megumi back to him, threading his fingers through his hair. Megumi stayed eerily still, breaths unnaturally even.
He pulled away then, wide eyes narrowing into slits. Satoru knew this had been coming, but he hadn’t properly prepared himself for the vitriol Megumi proceeded to spout at him.
“Fuck you,” he started, chest heaving and nostril’s flaring, “You knew he was alive this whole time and never told me? Never thought it would be a good idea to let me and Kugisaki know the classmate we were mourning wasn't actually dead?”
Satoru’s mouth fell open, words stuck behind his teeth.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Megumi shot away from him, face turning a deep red.
“Megs I’m sorry, I didn’t know— I didn’t think it’d be this bad for you, I didn’t think—”
“Yeah, that part’s pretty fucking evident. You didn’t think at all.” Subconsciously, most probably, his hand came back to his arm, scratching at the bloody scabs.
God, what had he done?
“I’m sorry Megs, I never wanted to keep it from you, but I need him to be safe— need you both to be safe right now. If the higherups find out they’ll pull something and I’m not sure if it’ll involve you and Kugisaki or not. I can’t take any risks.”
He ran a hand through his hair, blinking back tears.
“I fucked up, alright? I should have looked into the case further, I should have gotten there faster, I should have trained you guys better, I should have told you. I should have but I didn’t and I’m sorry—” and please don’t hate me please don’t hate me please don’t hate me—
A sigh, worn out and resigned, came from in front of him. The fight had left him earlier than Satoru had expected.
“‘s not your fault, you couldn’t have seen it coming, you were too far away.” Megumi’s hand fell away from his arm, a conflicted look on his face as he pursed his lips and averted his eyes.
“They want him dead that badly?”
“Unfortunately. I’m not sure how far they’re willing to go to make sure he actually dies. I wanted to make sure that he was more trained so he’d have an easier time fighting them off.”
He hummed, low and considering, before shuffling forward slowly.
“Sorry. For yelling, I mean.” His eyes shone, though they seemed less enraged now.
“It’s fine, it was a valid reaction.”
“I’m still angry.”
“Also valid.”
“You should have told me.”
“I know.”
His breath was pushed out of him by a hard weight falling on his chest, his clothes held in a loose grip by deft hands.
“I get why you did it though. Kind of. You still should have told me.”
A chuckle, misplaced and wet with tears unshed, escaped Satoru as he lifted a hand to comb through Megumi’s hair.
“If it ever happens again, you’ll be the first to know.”
A nod against his chest and a muttered “good” against his ribs. Megumi laid more of his weight against him until Satoru had to lay down with him, both laying upside down on the bed.
Before long, the sound of soft snores filled the room as Megumi got what Satoru could only assume was the first decent sleep he’d gotten in days. The moon’s rays filtered through the window, casting the illusion of a silver halo around his head. He looked like an angel. Wasn’t he? Megumi, a blessing who cared too much and showed none of it, who felt so much for his friends it bled out of him in red rivulets.
He’d have to keep a closer eye on him from now on, to make sure something like this didn’t happen again. He had to keep a closer eye on all of his students until Itadori returned.
In the morning, he’d cancel classes. Everyone deserved a break anyways, they’d all been working so hard. He’d take Megumi to breakfast as an apology, then maybe he’d take him and Kugisaki shopping.
A heaviness settled behind his eyelids, pulling them down as he held his boy close. He’d fucked up, but he’d make it better. Itadori would come back by the exchange event, and everything would go back to normal. For now though, he’d hold his boy through the night, apologize once again in the morning, and make sure he and Kugisaki were okay.
He’d feel like an even worse person than he already did now if she was in the same boat as Megumi. But as his eyes fell closed and sweet slumber pulled him under, all he could feel was gratitude. Gratitude for the fact that Megumi didn’t hate him, that he was still here, that he wasn’t a broken body Satoru would have to bury, that his sister wouldn’t wake up to find herself brotherless.
He’d keep him safe. He’d keep them all safe.