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Satoru Gojo wanted nothing more than to curl up in his bed and sleep for the rest of the week.
Ever since the Night Parade of a Hundred Demons, he’s been throwing himself into his work: exorcising at least one special-grade curse per day, sometimes more. He usually found himself splattered in purple curse fluids, but surprisingly, he didn’t mind. Anything to take his mind off what he lost. Today should have been no different.
He swung open the front door to his swanky, rich-people apartment, breathing in the scent of home. His Infinity started to lower…then it shot back up. A couple of things felt wrong. First, all the shades in the foyer and beyond were drawn, plunging the entire space into shadow, despite it being mid-afternoon. Second…he couldn’t sense his charge.
Satoru barreled into the apartment, not even bothering to take off his shoes. He yanked off his blindfold, Six Eyes scanning every square inch of the apartment.
Then he saw him.
Megumi was leaning against the countertop in the kitchen, head burrowed in his arms. His breathing was slightly shallow, and his cursed energy was weak. Exactly what freaked Satoru out.
The albino approached the teenager cautiously, not wanting to startle him. He willed his heart rate to slow down now that he knew Megumi was safe. “Megs?” he whispered softly. “You okay, kid?”
Megumi groaned in protest and turned his head away from Satoru. His cursed energy flared for a second, then went down again to a concerningly low level.
Satoru drew up a chair next to Megumi, kicking off his shoes. Megumi flinched slightly at the noise. Satoru raised an eyebrow. “Megs? Care to explain why it’s nearly pitch black in here?”
“Isn’t,” Megumi mumbled, this time turning his face toward Satoru. His already-pale skin looked even paler, almost translucent. Again, his cursed energy flared. Satoru narrowed his eyes. Megumi had more control over his energy than that.
Despite his growing concern, Satoru laughed and hopped off the stool, striding toward the nearest blackout shade. “Admit it, Megumi-kun. All you can see are my dazzling blue eyes. We — or you — need some light in here.” He pulled lightly at the cord next to the shade, bathing the room in sunlight.
He was startled by a low cry. He immediately whipped around and focused on Megumi, who was whining like a little kid. His hands were pressed over his eyes like the light actually hurt him.
In a flash, Satoru was next to Megumi. “Megs? Are you okay? Talk to me.”
“Hurts,” Megumi whimpered, still not opening his eyes. Satoru swore he saw something wet slide down his charge’s cheek.
“Okay, okay. No lights. Got it.” He crossed the room in two strides and yanked down the cord again, plunging the room again into complete darkness. He sighed as his Six Eyes adjusted. “Better?”
A highly suspicious noise sounded from Megumi’s direction. Satoru whipped his head around and swore. Megumi was shivering on the floor, the entire contents of his last meal in a puddle in front of him. Sweat…and maybe something else…slid down his cheeks.
“I’m sorry…” Megumi whimpered. “I’m so sorry…”
Satoru grabbed some wipes and paper towels, cleaning up the mess before Megumi could blink. In a flash, he was next to him, rubbing circles on his sea-urchin’s back. “Hey, hey. No need to apologize, Megs. But you have to talk to me. What’s wrong? What hurts?”
“Everything,” Megumi moaned. His body was unconsciously leaning toward Satoru, who didn’t dare move. “Knives in my eyes…”
“Migraine,” Satoru diagnosed immediately, shaking his head. “Oh, kid. When did it start?”
“When…I woke up,” Megumi whispered.
Satoru swore again. He knew from experience that migraines had a nasty habit of progressing in a negative direction throughout the day, and it was already mid-afternoon… “Why didn’t you call me?” Satoru asked, still rubbing circles on his back.
“Didn’t…want to disturb…”
Of course. Megumi’s streak of stubbornness remained strong despite being in horrible pain. “You could never disturb me, okay?” Satoru whispered softly. “I think I need to know when my kid is in excruciating pain, and I’m not there.”
Megumi mumbled a bit before his words became clearer. “You haven’t been…there.”
A whirlwind of emotions slammed into Satoru. Anger. Grief. Hurt.
Guilt.
Megumi was right. He hadn’t been there for him lately. How many days has it been since they had a normal conversation (well, it was usually one-sided but Megumi would still nod at times)? Since they had dinner together? Watched a random action film with horrible ratings on Rotten Tomatoes?
He’s been so wrapped up in his own feelings that he's completely neglected his own kid. The boy he raised for almost a decade. His son. What kind of a father was he?
Megumi was now fully leaning into Satoru, his eyes squeezed shut. He probably wasn’t even aware of it; otherwise he would’ve shoved off a long time ago. Satoru wrapped an arm around Megumi and squeezed gently. “Bed?”
Megumi nodded slowly against his chest. His cursed energy dipped slightly lower.
Satoru scooped up Megumi, who completely fell limp against him. Trusting him. Something Satoru didn’t deserve.
He gently set Megumi down in his bed. He knew Megumi would prefer his own room, but Satoru would like to keep an eye on him. He knew how bad migraines could get.
Megumi burrowed himself into the covers. Only a few strands of hair stuck out, stubborn as ever.
Satoru settled himself into a chair next to the bed, his Six Eyes on high alert.
It was about one in the morning when it took a turn in the wrong direction.
Satoru hadn’t slept. He remained awake, eyes fixed on Megumi’s form for who knows how many hours. So that was how he noticed Megumi’s cursed energy dipping into very dangerous territory, nearly vanishing altogether.
He leapt up immediately, throwing himself onto the bed. “Megs?” he asked, a vain part of him hoping that his energy was just low because of his pain.
No response.
Satoru yanked back the covers.
Megumi was as white as a ghost. His lips were bloodless, and Satoru could clearly see the veins running down his arms. Satoru shook him. “Megs, c’mon. Wake up.” Still no response.
He swore colorfully, but even his vulgar language didn’t rouse Megumi. He sprinted into the living room, snatching up his travel bag so hard that he heard several threads pop. He yanked out his phone and punched in the password, trying not to crack the screen. He selected the first contact on his list and held it to his ear, running back to Megumi. The only way he could tell that his son was alive was due to the slight rising and falling of his chest. Too weak for his comfort.
Answer. Come on, please…
The line clicked, and a bored female voice flowed through the speakers, sounding slightly tipsy. “Satoru? What do you want? Can’t you let a girl take a break once in a while?”
He didn’t bother with his usual teasing greeting. He leaned over Megumi, breathing heavily. “It’s Megumi. Something’s wrong.”
He heard Ieri Shoko inhale sharply. Her bored tone was immediately replaced with a serious one. “Tell me what you see.”
“His cursed energy is practically nonexistent, he’s barely breathing, he’s so pale, he —”
“Satoru, slow down. I know you’re worried, but I need you to take a deep breath and tell me everything.”
Something salty traced a path on his cheek, which was still blood-stained from the previous day’s battles. It fell onto Megumi’s shirt, followed by another. “Shoko, I don’t know, okay?! I came home, and he was complaining about a migraine, he threw up, and now he’s not responding to me! It’s all my fault, I should’ve been there, I —”
“Satoru.” Her calm voice stopped him in his tracks, but he could’ve sworn he heard a tremor. “I’ll be there in ten minutes. Call me if he stops breathing.”
She hung up. He stared at the phone in his hand, getting the screen wet. He shoved it in his pocket and sat on the bed beside Megumi, staring at his face in case anything took a turn for the worse.
Barely aware of what he was doing, he picked up his son’s limp hand and held it in his own. In other scenarios, he would’ve laughed at the sheer difference in their hand sizes. Now, he concentrated on the blood and cursed energy flowing through his body, on alert for any changes.
Megumi’s fingers twitched, weakly squeezing Satoru’s hand. Satoru looked down, hoping he would see his son looking up at him, hissing at him to stop holding his hand (“it’s embarrassing, Gojo”), but no. He was still deeply unconscious.
Shoko arrived exactly ten minutes after the initial call, carrying several essential items: a bag of fluids, various medications, and a case full of differently-sized needles. As soon as he sensed her cursed energy, he reluctantly left Megumi’s side and opened the door. She stood in the doorway, hair glistening from the rain that had started some hours ago. Her eyebags were more pronounced, and he could smell liquor on her breath. Despite all that, gratefulness warmed his chest.
Shoko brushed past him. “You look horrid, Gojo.” He couldn’t bring himself to laugh.
Shoko entered the bedroom, Satoru on her heels, explaining everything that had happened since the afternoon. She immediately pressed two fingers against Megumi’s carotid, measuring his pulse. She clicked her tongue, which Satoru knew was Shoko-speak for bad. She wasted no time setting up a drip into Megumi’s arm and performing routine examinations: checking his pupil dilation, his reflexes, the works. Satoru watched with bated breath, his foot tapping against the floor impatiently.
Finally, she straightened and turned to Satoru. Her eyes were lidded, but worry still shone there. “What is it?” Satoru demanded. She sighed. “Idiopathic Intracranial Hypertension. One of the most unusual cases I’ve ever heard of.”
“Speak in human language, please. I’m not in the mood to Google anything.”
She huffed. “His optic nerves are swollen. The pressure in his skull is too high, which explains the migraine and light sensitivity. Nausea can also be a side symptom.”
He swore. “Why? Why now? Where did this come from?”
She fixed him with a glare. “You tell me, Mister Invincible. You fought a disease curse yesterday, didn’t you?”
“Well, yeah, but they didn’t tell me it was idiopathic inta…into…whatever it was.”
Shoko sighed again. “But you didn’t take the proper precautions. I’m willing to bet all of my cigarettes that when you exorcised it, some of its residue latched on to you. In turn, when you came back here…”
Oh.
He burrowed his hands into his face. “So you’re telling me it’s all my fault.”
She laid a hand on his arm. “Partly, yes.”
“But something’s not right. Why didn’t I get the condition, too?”
“Because you’re Satoru Gojo.”
“Fair enough. But it’s still not an excuse. This shouldn’t have happened to Megumi. He doesn’t deserve this.”
“Speaking as your friend, you’ve been pretty…well, honestly, reckless…ever since that night.”
He brushed her off. She tried touching him again, but was met with a wall of Infinity. “We swore never to speak of that night.”
“That’s not fair,” she said softly. “He was my friend, too.”
An uncomfortable silence hung in the air between them until Shoko broke it. “I’m guessing that the disease curse accelerated the effects of the condition, making everything that happens in a few years compressed into twenty-four hours, which also leads me to believe that the condition has been dormant and the curse triggered its effects.. Even then, it must be an extreme case because it rarely causes unresponsiveness. But we’re sorcerers, so we always get the worst pick of the bunch…”
“Is he gonna be okay?” Satoru whispered, barely registering anything she just said. He glanced at Megumi, who was still unconscious. However, color was returning to his cheeks, much to Satoru’s relief.
Shoko strapped on some surgical gloves. “Let’s just say that he would have been permanently blind if you hadn’t called me when you did.” “Wow,” Satoru said. “That makes me feel loads better.”
Shoko bent over her needle-filled case and extracted an enormous one. “It should.” Satoru eyed the sharp object warily. “What are you going to do with that?”
“I’m going to drain some of his brain fluid through his spine. In normal humans, it would take much more than that, but luckily, I have reverse cursed technique. The fluid is just an extra precaution.” She uncapped the needle. “Do you plan on staying?”
“Of course,” he answered without hesitation.
“Good. Roll him on his stomach.”
Satoru gingerly did as she asked, Megumi’s head flopping like a fish. She gently drew up the teenager's shirt and set the needle against a point on his spine. She looked up at him. “This will be excruciating, especially since I don’t have a device to tilt his body at the desired angle. He might wake up, and I need you to be prepared to restrain him.”
Satoru nodded, thinking it really couldn’t be that bad. Shoko began.
At first, nothing happened. She kept one hand on the needle, the other near his head, radiating cursed energy.
Then, out of nowhere, Megumi’s eyes shot open. He tried twisting out of the needle’s reach, lips open in a silent cry of pain.
“Satoru,” Shoko hissed, trying to keep the needle in place.
Satoru captured both of Megumi’s wrists with his hands, practically holding him down. To his credit, Megumi still attempted to escape, agonized tears leaking out of his eyes. He gasped in pain, Satoru’s heart cracking further with each cry.
“Hurts,” the teenager sobbed. “Please…”
“Shhh, it’s almost over,” Satoru whispered, meeting Megumi’s red-tinged eyes with his own. “You’ll feel much better after this, I promise.” He glanced up at Shoko in desperation, hating to see his son in so much pain. Shoko nodded to the needle. Not even halfway full.
“You’re okay,” Satoru murmured, his forehead leaning against Megumi’s in a desperate attempt to calm him down. Miraculously, it worked. Megumi stopped struggling and almost completely relaxed.
“Dad,” he whimpered. “Take the pain, please, I beg you…”
Something shattered, and Satoru was pretty sure it wasn’t in the room.
“I wish I could, honey,” Satoru whispered, both his and Megumi’s tears staining the sheets. “I wish I were there for you, like I should’ve been.” Megumi responded with a small, painful sigh.
Finally, it was over. Shoko removed the needle, and Megumi immediately relaxed. His face sagged against the pillow, drooping blue eyes meeting Satoru’s. “Sleep?” he muttered, like a child.
Satoru wiped a stray tear from his son’s cheek. “Yes, Megumi-kun. Sleep now.”
Shoko didn’t speak until Megumi was completely out. Satoru sat up, rubbing his eyes, exhaustion finally kicking in. “It’s done,” she said quietly. “I removed the disease. He might still be a bit under the weather for a few days, but the worst part is over. His vision isn’t in danger anymore.”
“Thank you,” he whispered. “Truly, Ieri.”
She looked taken aback, maybe because there wasn’t a sarcastic quip in there. “Um…you’re welcome.” She started packing everything up except for the IV line. “He could use some fluids. Remove it when it’s done, and call me if anything gets worse. Okay?” He didn’t respond. He sank down into that same chair where he had kept watch for hours on end, eyes drooping shut.
When he next opened them, it was a few hours later. He heard a low mumble of confusion. He sat up slowly, noting Megumi’s strong well of cursed energy before turning his attention to the boy himself.
The urchin-headed teenager was poking at the IV line, which was still dispensing fluids. He was trying to remove the drip, but was stopped by a strong hand on his own.
Satoru gazed down at him, blue eyes glimmering. “None of that, now. You need this, kid.” Megumi glanced down at the offending IV line, then back at him. “How did I get this?” His eyes darted around the room. “Why am I in your bed?”
Satoru shrugged, his usual quippy demeanor coming back in full force. “I thought you could use a change of scenery.” Megumi rolled his eyes. “Very funny, Gojo.” Satoru noted with a pang that Megumi didn’t call him “dad”.
“Do you remember anything?”
Megumi scratched his head, looking slightly confused. “Um…the last thing I remember is you coming back and…” He shook his head as though he were trying to clear it. After a few seconds, he met Satoru’s eyes again. “No…I don’t.”
Satoru sighed. Good. He’d shown a moment of weakness during the procedure, and he was glad Megumi didn’t remember it. “How’s your headache?”
“Gone.” His eyes narrowed. “There’s something you’re not telling me.” It wasn’t a question.
Satoru clapped a hand on Megumi’s shoulder, ignoring his usual flinch. “Call me whenever you’re hurt, k?” Megumi hesitated, and then nodded. “Fine.”
“Cool!” Satoru gave him a thumbs-up. He resisted the urge to hug his son, but he wanted it to look like nothing had changed. Despite the fact that they had both shown vulnerability to each other for the first time, only one of them remembered it.
And he didn’t plan on changing it overnight. Maybe slowly over the years. Maybe he would finally get to give Megumi a hug on his graduation, or wedding day, or some other occasion. He only hoped that even though Megumi couldn’t remember the night before, something had changed fundamentally.
Megumi half-expected to wake up with Gojo’s hand wrapped around his own, laughing about something stupid and irrelevant. He unconsciously searched for Satoru, hands twitching at his sides.
The word slipped out before he could stop it. “Dad…”
No response. At that, he cracked his eyes open, staring at the plain white ceiling. A fluorescent light beamed down on him, forcing his pupils to shrink. He tilted his head to the side, looking for Gojo. Nobody was there. He ran a hand through his hair…and froze when he felt the new scars on his forehead, branding him forever.
Then he remembered everything.
He burrowed into the covers, wet sobs racking from his chest. “No,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry, G— Dad…”
The one who had never given up on him, even when he was possessed by Sukuna, divided in two before his eyes. Blue eyes fading, but a smile still quirked on his lips.
Before that…the hug he had given him…or Sukuna? The whisper of “I’m sorry, Megumi.”
That memory sent a searing pain through his chest, intensifying his sobs. Memories started flashing behind his closed eyes, as though his brain wanted to make him feel worse.
Meeting Satoru for the first time. Satoru convincing him and Tsumiki to move into his own apartment. The first time he summoned his demon dogs with Satoru clapping on the side.
All the times he’d never given up on Megumi, even though Megumi sometimes used to wish Satoru did. Then maybe this wouldn’t have happened.
All Megumi knew was that a new scar accompanied the ones on his face, directly on his heart. And he wasn’t sure if he would ever be whole again.