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The clock on the nightstand read 1:47 AM.
Satoru Gojo lay on his back in the massive bed, staring up at the ceiling with eyes that refused to close. The room was dark, save for the pale sliver of moonlight that cut through the gap in the curtains, casting long shadows across the floor. The silence was heavy. Suffocating. The kind of silence that pressed down on your chest and made it hard to breathe.
He had been lying there for hours. Not sleeping. Not even trying to sleep anymore. Just thinking.
About tomorrow. About Shibuya. About everything that could go wrong.
The higher-ups had been clear. The curses were planning something. Something big. Something that would require every available sorcerer to be on standby. Gojo had been in meetings all day, listening to strategy briefings and tactical assessments and all the other bureaucratic nonsense that came with being the strongest. He had nodded at the right moments. He had made the right comments. He had played the role of the confident, untouchable Satoru Gojo.
But underneath it all, he was terrified.
Not for himself. He had never been afraid for himself. He was the strongest. He could handle whatever those curses threw at him. But for the people he loved. For his students. For Yuji and Nobara and all the other kids who were too young to be fighting this war.
For Megumi.
The thought of Megumi out there, in the middle of a battlefield, facing curses that could kill him in an instant, it made something cold and sharp twist in Gojo's chest. He had spent years protecting that kid. Years building walls around him, training him, preparing him for the day when he would have to stand on his own. But now that the day was here, now that the threat was real and imminent and terrifying, Gojo found himself wishing he could just lock Megumi away somewhere safe. Somewhere the curses couldn't reach him. Somewhere he would never have to fight.
But he couldn't. Megumi was a sorcerer. Megumi had chosen this life. And Gojo couldn't take that away from him, no matter how much he wanted to.
So instead, he lay here in the dark, staring at the ceiling, counting down the hours until sunrise.
The door creaked open.
Gojo didn't move. He didn't even turn his head. He already knew who it was. He could feel the familiar cursed energy, the quiet presence that had become as natural to him as breathing.
"Megumi," he said softly.
There was no response. Just the sound of soft footsteps crossing the room, the rustle of fabric, the dip of the mattress as Megumi climbed onto the bed.
Gojo finally turned his head. Megumi was crawling toward him, his dark hair messy, his eyes heavy with exhaustion, his expression unreadable. He didn't say a word. He just moved closer, closer, until he was pressed against Gojo's side, wrapping his arms around Gojo's waist and resting his head on Gojo's chest.
Gojo's arm came up automatically, wrapping around Megumi's back, pulling him closer. He could feel the warmth of Megumi's body, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, the slight tremor in his shoulders that betrayed his calm exterior.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke. They just lay there, tangled together in the dark, two people who had spent years pretending they didn't need each other, finally admitting the truth without words.
"Can't sleep?" Gojo asked finally.
Megumi shook his head against Gojo's chest.
"Me neither."
Silence.
"I keep thinking about tomorrow," Megumi said quietly. His voice was muffled against Gojo's shirt. "About what's going to happen. About who's going to get hurt."
"We don't know that anyone's going to get hurt."
"We don't know that anyone won't."
Gojo didn't have a response to that. Because Megumi was right. They didn't know. That was the worst part. The not knowing. The waiting. The endless, agonizing anticipation of something terrible that was coming and couldn't be stopped.
"We've prepared for this," Gojo said, trying to sound confident. "We've trained. We've planned. We're ready."
"Are we?" Megumi's voice was small. Vulnerable. So different from the cold, stoic teenager he usually presented to the world. "What if we're not? What if we're not strong enough? What if..."
He trailed off.
"What if what?" Gojo prompted gently.
Megumi was quiet for a long moment. Then, very softly, he said, "What if I lose you?"
The words hit Gojo like a physical blow. He felt his chest tighten, his throat close up, his eyes burn with something that might have been tears.
"You're not going to lose me," he said. "I'm the strongest, remember?"
"That doesn't mean anything." Megumi's voice cracked. "Being the strongest doesn't make you invincible. It doesn't make you immortal. It just makes you a bigger target."
"Megumi..."
"I'm serious." Megumi pulled back just enough to look up at Gojo's face. His dark eyes were shining in the moonlight, filled with a fear that Gojo had never seen before. "You're always telling me not to be reckless. You're always telling me to be careful. But you're the one who runs into danger without a second thought. You're the one who throws himself in front of everyone else. You're the one who..."
He couldn't finish. His voice broke, and he buried his face in Gojo's chest again, his shoulders shaking.
Gojo held him tighter. He didn't know what to say. He didn't know how to comfort someone who was terrified of losing him. He had never been good at this. He had never been good at being vulnerable.
But for Megumi, he would try.
"I'm not going to die," he said softly. "I promise."
"You can't promise that."
"I can. And I do."
Megumi shook his head. "You can't promise something you don't control."
Gojo sighed. He ran his fingers through Megumi's hair, gentle and soothing, the way he used to when Megumi was a child and couldn't sleep.
"You're right," he admitted. "I can't control everything. I can't guarantee that I'll come back. But I can guarantee that I'll fight like hell to make sure I do. I can guarantee that I'll do everything in my power to stay alive. Because I have something worth coming back to."
Megumi was quiet. Then, very softly, he asked, "What?"
Gojo smiled. "You, dummy. You and Tsumiki and all the other brats I've somehow ended up responsible for. You think I'm going to let some curse take me out when I have a bunch of kids to annoy?"
Megumi let out a small, watery laugh. It was barely a sound, but it was something. A flicker of light in the darkness.
"You're so annoying," he muttered.
"I know. It's part of my charm."
Silence.
"Dad?"
The word was so quiet, so tentative, that Gojo almost missed it. But he didn't. He heard it. He heard it clear as day, and it made his heart stop in his chest.
"Yeah, Megs?"
Megumi was quiet for a long moment. Then he said, "Please be okay. Please don't die."
Gojo felt something break inside him. Something that had been holding him together, that had been keeping him strong, that had been protecting him from the full weight of his own fear.
He pulled Megumi closer. As close as physically possible. He wrapped both arms around him, buried his face in Megumi's hair, and held on like he was afraid Megumi would disappear if he let go.
"I'll be okay," he whispered. "I'll be okay, Megs. I promise."
"You can't promise."
"I can. I just did."
Megumi didn't argue. He just pressed himself closer, his fingers curling into Gojo's shirt, his breath warm against Gojo's chest.
"Goodnight, Dad," he murmured.
"Goodnight, Megumi."
Gojo pressed a kiss to the crown of Megumi's head. Soft. Gentle. Full of all the love and fear and hope that he couldn't put into words.
And they lay there, tangled together in the dark, two people who had found their way to each other against all odds.
And as the moon climbed higher in the sky, casting silver light across the room, they both finally closed their eyes.
And they slept.
Together.
Safe.
For now.
The next time Megumi heard those words the promise that everything would be okay it was Yuji's voice, screaming across the chaos of Shibuya, telling them all that Gojo Satoru had been sealed.
And in that moment, all Megumi could think was: He promised. He promised he'd be okay.
But promises, he realized, meant nothing in a world that took and took and never gave back.