Then, the sky was streaked with pink, and the cityline was dotted with windows lit up with gold, shadows walking past as people went about their evening lives. Setting plates on tables, scribbling homework answers in the window seats, lounging around in gardens with beer bottles dangling from fingers. Glasses, dripping with condensation because even though it was eight pm, the heat was still washing over the summer suburbs.
While the soft song of tired laughter and easy conversation hummed over the houses, two boys were lazing on a balcony on the highest apartment. Shitty speaker pouring out Yuuji's music as Megumi nodded his head along, even though he hadn't ever heard half of the songs before.
Two cartons of ice cream were sat between them, one matcha and the other raspberry. As Megumi leaned against the railing, shoelaces dangling down below, Yuuji bounced a tennis ball against the wall behind them. Each hit went with the rhythm of the song playing, following the heartbeat ringing against Megumi's chest.
"Gimme some of yours," Yuuji demanded, words warbled around the spoon in his mouth as he gestured to the matcha ice cream.
"Fuck off, Itadori," Megumi snorted, any heat that might've been behind his words stolen by the sweltering sun. "You should've picked a better flavour." Yuuji didn't even like raspberry – he had just been so caught up in the idea of picking something that matched his hair again.
Giving up with the tennis ball, Yuuji shuffled over to where Megumi was sitting at the edge of the balcony, also draping his legs through the railing to lightly tap his ankle against Megumi's. "Baby," Yuuji grinned, like he already knew Megumi was going to give in. "Give me a taste, c'mon."
"Sounds like a you issue, baby," Megumi rolled his eyes in response, manoeuvring his ice cream so it was on his left, out of Yuuji's reach.
"God," Yuuji sighed wistfully, leaning his forehead against the iron railing and smiling softly.
"What?" Megumi pressed, letting their ankles cross each other's.
"I like it when you call me that."
"I was saying it sarcastically," Megumi argued, face flushing crimson as he tore his attention away from Yuuji to look back out towards the city below them.
"Yeah, I know," Yuuji shrugged, shoulder brushing against Megumi's. "Doesn't matter. Still like it."
"You're an idiot," Megumi breathed, even as he dropped his ice cream back between them. "Hey," he clicked his tongue, using his own spoon to knock Yuuji's away before he could dig in. "Don't contaminate them," he said as he passed his own spoon over to Yuuji, picking the raspberry spoon out of his fingers.
"You're such a loser," Yuuji laughed, even as he did as told. "Yeah, this is way better than raspberry."
"Told you," Megumi murmured, dropping down onto his back to blink up at the sky. Yuuji followed, settling his head onto Megumi's outstretched arm, keeping the matcha ice cream close to his chest. He hadn't noticed the melting green dripping down onto his shirt yet. Megumi didn't bother telling him, almost ready to drift off to sleep in the peace of the moment.
"If you could go anywhere in the world, right now," Yuuji started, voice reverberating through Megumi's entire body. "Where would you go?"
Nowhere, he wanted to say. I only ever want to be wherever you are, he wanted to say. But that was a bit much to say to the guy you only just started…seeing? Kissing? Fucking around with? Maybe when Megumi figured out what they actually were, then he could tell Yuuji all the insane, borderline obsessive thoughts he had about him.
"I don't know," he said instead. "Where would you go?"
Yuuji hummed around the spoon for a moment before pulling it out with a click of his tongue and the declaration of Florida spilling out along with it. "Florida?" Megumi repeated incredulously, unable to stop the chuckling from escaping his chest.
"Yeah," Yuuji said, manoeuvring himself so he was lying facing Megumi, sprawled across his chest. "Florida seems sick as fuck," he grinned, not backing down even as he laughed along with Megumi, brown eyes crinkling in amusement. It was maybe the thing Megumi liked the most about Yuuji – how unapologetically committed to his character he was. Even about shit like Florida.
"I mean…" Megumi tried to see where he's coming from, even as the two of them keep laughing. "I think it would be too hot for me," is what he landed on saying, fingers coming up to play with the back of Yuuji's nape, running them through freshly dyed hair, curled slightly with sweat from the heat. "Even this is too hot for me," he murmured through the soft air.
"Nah," Yuuji shook his head, before wordlessly offering Megumi some ice cream. "We'll just wear shorts and shit. You can borrow my cap to keep the sun out of your eyes," he said as Megumi took the spoon from him.
"So, we're going?" Megumi asked, brows raised. Yuuji smirked at him, before leaning down to press a kiss to the corner of his lips.
"You had ice cream on your face," he explained when he pulled back, dropping his head against Megumi's chest again. "Well, now I've said it, so we've got to go."
"Right now?"
"Megumi, baby," Yuuji preened, and Megumi knew it was mostly a joke, he did, but every time Yuuji spoke to him like that he thought he might combust. His fingers stilled on Yuuji's neck, fingertips kissing the moles dotted across his skin. "If I could take you to Florida right now, I totally would."
"But," Megumi finished for him, the ice cream dripping down the spoon and onto his fingers.
"But," Yuuji nodded along. "One day though. We'll go."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. I think it'll be fun. Go on all the rides and shit. And all those insane American restaurants where the portions are like for five people, and they give you breadsticks. And we can like fuck around on the beaches and shit. It'll be cool."
"Sounds cool," Megumi admitted, because even though he was pretty sure Florida was a cesspit of a State, he was beginning to see it in his head. The citrus groves. Peels of sunshine washing over Yuuji, lightening his hair, and browning his skin. Widening his smile. Dunking their heads in the sea, water spraying across their skin. Sand sticking to their feet. Peeling sunburn, and stomachs clenching with laughter and cicadas singing along with them.
"Okay then," he grinned, because while before this he never would have felt an inclination to visit Florida, now he can't think of anywhere else he'd rather go, if he could go anywhere. Now, he can imagine an entire lifetime with Yuuji there.
Florida, with long days and a burning, bright sun. Surely there are no shadows for himself to get lost in, in Florida. No haunting ghosts, speaking Japanese in his dreams. No despicable monsters roaming the same streets as them.
"Me and you," he murmured, dropping the spoon back into the carton to lean down and kiss Yuuji, pressing his hands against his cheeks. "Me and you and Florida."
*
Then, Yuuji had sticky lips that tasted like matcha and raspberry and hope.
Now, Yuuji's lips are stained with crimson. His face is almost unrecognisable from how awfully he's been beaten, blood matting his hair. Megumi swallows down bile, eyes narrowing on Naoya, standing in front of the unconscious Yuuji.
"You're alone then," Naoya says, suspiciously, because he's not an idiot. He knows, just as well as Megumi does that sorcerers, if strong enough, can hide their residuals. However, he's betting on the fact that Naoya loves to underestimate sorcerers, and there's no one that he loves underestimating more than Gojo Satoru, for some reason. He's betting that Naoya won't know Gojo can't just cover his own residuals, but his classmates' as well. If there's one positive of having Gojo as his guardian, it's that he's a pretty fucking powerful guardian.
He's also betting on the fact that Naoya thinks there's no way Gojo would let Megumi walk into this situation on his own, if he knew anything about it. Honestly, Megumi had also kind of thought there was no way Gojo would let him do that. But as soon as they'd arrived here, Gojo had left him.
"Look, can you just wait like two seconds?" Gojo had argued as Megumi's classmates spread out to take out the seemingly endless supply of curses surrounding the perimeter. Fuck knows how Naoya got them all to surround Yuuji's school. Tengen, Megumi cannot believe Naoya is so psychotic he kidnapped his fucking boyfriend after his damn algebra class.
Cannot believe that Gojo knew about Yuuji. Cannot believe that Gojo knew about Choso and let him go in order to protect Yuuji. Something that is clearly out of Choso's remit, considering that Yuuji is now lying slumped behind Naoya, breathing too shallow and skin too pale.
"I can feel something dangerous here," Gojo had told him. "Something way more dangerous than Zenin Naoya."
"More important than Zenin Naoya?" Megumi had demanded.
"Yes," Gojo had answered easily.
"More important than Yuuji? More important than me?"
Hesitation. Then, "Megumi."
"Just go," he'd sighed with a shake of his head. It wasn't as surprising as it maybe should've been,
"Don't do anything stupid, okay?" Gojo had ordered him, even as he was already walking away, eyes visibly moving erratically under his blindfold, Six Eyes scouring for something as Megumi stood in front of him. "Just distract Naoya until I come and get you. Do not fight him. You'll lose, and probably die, and this will have all been for nothing. Don't do anything stupid, Megumi."
And then he'd vanished. After acting like Megumi was a child who was waiting to get picked up from elementary school. As if Gojo would have ever picked him up from elementary school.
*
He was only seven, and so when Megumi broke his arm at elementary school it kind of felt like the world was ending. Especially because he hadn't broken his arm falling over on the playground, like he'd told the school nurse. He'd broken it after stumbling upon a real-life monster that was hiding behind the shed where the gym equipment was kept.
The curse had gone straight for him, and his bone had cracked with a sickening sound when he hit the concrete. He'd managed to bite down on his lip so he didn't scream out loud, drawing the teacher's attention, before summoning his dogs while holding his limp, crooked arm in his good hand. Pain had ricocheted down his wrist as he moved his fingers, and as soon as his dogs appeared, padding out of the shadows, he had sagged in relief.
At first, they'd gone straight to him, wet noses nudging at his scabbed over knees, because he was still too young to know how to instinctively order them to follow his silent orders. "Please," he'd whispered, scared too be loud in case someone heard, and not trusting himself to speak without screaming. "Please, kill it!" he begged, gesturing with his head to the small curse, who was already slouching away from the boy and his magic hounds.
With one last look of hesitation, the dogs leaped. He'd sat there, fat tears rolling down his cheek as his puppies tore into the curse viciously, jaws snapping. It screamed the entire time, and he didn't have his headphones with him to muffle the sound. His arm hurt too much to move, so he couldn't cover his ears with his hands. He sat and waited, tears spilling over his cheeks.
Finally, when it was dead, he'd let out a strangled cry of pain and his teacher came running at the sound. The entire time completely oblivious to the two puppies that were padding along after him, following with scared, widened eyes and whimpering little barks.
"No one's going to come," he whined to the nurse, a desperate plea to have her just cave in and take him to the hospital herself. His dogs were distressed, silently padding around him, as if they were worried another curse might appear to attack him again. "Please." He'd never outwardly begged so much in his life before that day.
"Your father said he's on his way," she lightly scolded him for whining, gently placing his broken arm onto a cushion that looked like it had never once been washed in its days at the school. Tears of frustration more than pain welled up in his eyes, because he really did not want to have to tell the nurse that his father had left three years ago and was probably dead, so he definitely had not picked up that phone.
But she sounded so sure, and all Megumi really wanted was for someone, anyone at that point, to tell him his dad was going to come home, and so in his haze of delirious pain, he even started to believe her.
"Oh wow." He heard her speak, but all he could focus on was keeping his head low and not screeching out in pain. "How did you get here so fast? You were just on the phone."
"Teleportation." That familiar voice was almost as painful as his arm, but Megumi still refused to look up. Of course it wasn't his father that had answered. His father was probably dead, no matter how many times Megumi wished on an eyelash, or a birthday candle, or a coin in a fountain. And all he had left was this sucky teenager who had introduced demons and monsters into his life, and wouldn't leave him and his sister alone.
"You look a bit young to be a father," the nurse commented suspiciously.
"I hear that a lot. Especially from beautiful women."
"Gojo," Megumi hissed, head heavy on his shoulders as he looked up from tear-stained eyelashes. "What're you doing here?"
"They called me," Gojo shrugged as he crouched down in front of Megumi. He was still taller than him, even with his knees bent and his head tilted. "Said you were sick," he hummed, lifting his stupid sunglasses off of his nose and onto his head. There was a lollipop stick stuck in his mouth, Gojo twisting it around his teeth as he waited for an answer.
"My arm," he managed to mumble, pouting down at the traitorous limb in question.
"Damn, kid," Gojo whistled, blue eyes sparkling with something akin to understanding. "Right well, we better get you straight to Shoko, right?" Now, Megumi didn't really like Shoko. Didn't like the way she smelled like smoke or the way she looked at him like she didn't understand what a child was. But she always made his colds go away, or the cuts or grazes he accidentally found on himself stitch themselves right up, so he nodded up at Gojo all the same.
"Fushiguro-san, I think it's best if-"
"Gojo," the teenager interrupted the nurse as he stood back up to his full height. "It's Gojo-sama," he said easily, with that smile that people could never figure out. It was hard to tell when Gojo was joking or being serious. But the thing was, Megumi didn't think Gojo even knew. Megumi didn't think Gojo knew what he was talking about most of the time.
"I think it's best if you take Fushiguro-kun here to the hospital," she continued on anyway, because she had no idea who Gojo Satoru was. Because she didn't care that he was the Strongest or a Gojo. She just wanted Megumi to get his arm fixed. He missed when he had someone who just wanted to fix everything for him. Blinking down at his dogs, rubbing his fingers over his white puppy's leathery ear, he came to the sinking realisation that he had never had anyone who just wanted to fix things for him. Apart from Tsumiki of course, but even at seven he knew a nine-year-old could want to do a lot of things that she couldn't actually do.
"Shoko is kind of like a personal doctor, right kid?" Gojo asked as he bent down slightly, easily wrapping Megumi up in his arms, letting the boy wrap his legs around his waist. Supporting him up with one arm, he used the other to drop his sunglasses back onto his face.
"She smokes a lot," Megumi told the nurse, because he refused to agree with Gojo on anything at that age. "She asked me if I wanted to try a cigarette once. Said it was better for me than candy."
"Alright," Gojo said, laughing loudly as he wrapped one hand over Megumi's mouth, not letting go even as he licked all across his palm. "That's enough out of you, little man. Thanks for looking after Megumi. We'll go get that arm fixed now." And with that, he strode right out of the nurse's office, holding onto Megumi tight in his arms, ignoring the nurse yelling after them both about kidnapping little boys and cigarettes causing cancer.
"Fucking hell, Fushiguro. You really are a little shit, you know. I didn't know kids could be so funny. Didn't think you were developed enough for that yet or whatever," Gojo snorted when they made it outside, opening the front door with his back. The fresh air cut right through Megumi, and as they walked down the stairs, he was jostled in Gojo's arms, and reminded sharply that his arm was broken.
He burst out into tears, and Gojo's face quickly went from amusement to horror. He seemed to be so caught up in the fear of a crying child, that he teleported them straight to Jujutsu Tech, stood right on the pavement in front of the school. "Shoko!" he barked, voice reverberating around Megumi's entire body as he buried his face in Gojo's chest. Good hand clutching the teenager's shirt, because even though he despised Gojo Satoru for refusing to leave him alone when it wasn't Gojo he wanted, Gojo was still all he had.
"We've got an injured soldier here!"
Gojo was the one who had come. It was Gojo's arms placing him softly down on the infirmary bed, even as Megumi cried out louder in protest, just wanting someone to hold him again. It was Gojo who held Megumi's head in his hands as Shoko's Cursed Energy wrapped around his arm, something infinitely better than any sling. Gojo's untouched, unblemished fingers running through Megumi's hair as he sobbed in pain. Gojo who smiled sadly down at him after Shoko was done, jumping up onto the infirmary bed beside him and letting Megumi crawl onto his lap.
"What happened, kid?" Gojo asked, because somehow Gojo could tell it wasn't just about the crack in his bone. Even back then, Megumi had been convinced Gojo always seemed to know because of the Six Eyes. Even now, Megumi doesn't realise Gojo just always knows what Megumi's thinking because he knows Megumi.
"There was a monster," he whimpered, lips still quivering despite the numbness of his arm.
"A curse," Gojo gently reminded him, because apparently it mattered in the Jujutsu world what you called the haunting beats that roamed the streets. "There was a curse."
"Yeah," he sniffled, rubbing at his own eyes before he summoned his dogs, little fingers taking a couple of tries at the hand movement before they appeared, yapping and tails wagging. They were always happier at Jujutsu Tech. Shoko snorted with amusement, cigarette tucked behind her ear as the dogs sat beneath Gojo and Megumi's intertwined legs, dangling down towards the tiled floor.
"I couldn't do anything," he whined. "My dogs had to kill it. I was scared," he admitted. "You weren't there. I didn't know what to…I don't know what to do when you're not there."
"You did the right thing," Gojo said, like he was certain. Megumi didn't understand how a teenager could be so sure of anything like that. But he supposed most teenagers weren't the Six Eyes. Most teenagers didn't have the weight of Limitless on their shoulders. The burden of Godhood placed upon the crown of their head.
"I didn't do anything," he argued, tired and weary as he let Gojo pull him into a soft hug.
"You were brave, Megumi," Gojo told him as he tucked the boy's head under his chin. "That's all you have to be, kay?"
"But I'm little," Megumi murmured, voice breaking off at the end into more tears. "I'm just little."
"That doesn't matter," Gojo clicked his tongue, pulling back and lightly tapping Megumi's chin so he looked up to meet his eyes. "That doesn't matter at all, kid. Besides, you're not going to be little forever. One day, you'll be as tall as me. Or at least as tall as Shoko. And anyone who ever made you feel little or small is going to regret it. But for now, just be little. You can be little and brave, okay?"
"Okay," he repeated. "Okay."
"Now," Gojo smirked, clapping his hands as he wrapped his arms around Megumi again. "Does the patient get a lollipop or what?" he asked, eyes darting up to look at Shoko, who was preoccupied trying not to tread on the two puppies that were running around in circles at her feet. "And what about one for his favourite guardian?"
*
"How did you find us?" Naoya asks, running a hand through his shitty ass hair with his shitty frosted tips. Really, he is such a fucking cliché. The cunt with frosted tips? If Megumi wasn't so homicidal right now, the whole thing would be more embarrassing.
"Picked up on your Cursed Energy," Megumi shrugs in response, fingers twitching irritatedly at his side. "Look, I'm here now," he says through gritted teeth, trying his best to remember what Gojo told him. Don't do anything stupid. It was a relatively easy order to follow, in theory.
In practice, not so much. Because Megumi has always had a childish temper. And with each second, Naoya's grin is widening, and Megumi's patience is fraying. With each second, Yuuji's breathing is becoming shallower, the blood streaked across his face, spilling from his mouth, drying against his skin. And while Megumi can hear Gojo's voice in his head, Gojo's voice is so fucking irritating, it generally makes him want to punch something.
"Let him go," Megumi says, voice coming out thinner than normal.
"Yeah, that's not gonna happen," Naoya laughs, glancing over his shoulder at Yuuji like he's a dying animal he found on the road. Disgusting and pitiful and not worth his time. Megumi's eye twitches. The room darkens. "Told some asshole that if he helped me kill you, I'd give him the kid."
They're stood in a gymnasium, laminated floor screeching with each step Megumi yearns to take closer. The windows are high up, red curtains drawn to cover the sunlight. Shadows draw in, sharpening with Megumi's wrath. Throat bobbing, he looks past Naoya towards Yuuji again. Slumped under a basketball hoop, like a corpse cut down from the gallows.
There's blood browning his new white sneakers. Megumi's never seen him so still. Lips slightly parted, chest struggling to rise and fall. Strong, tanned legs laying limp and fragile. Untouched, unblemished fingers reaching out, face up. There's an old Hello Kitty band-aid peeling off of his elbow. It's almost comical, how it stands out against the rest of his beaten body.
Megumi has never been more furious. Never has his blood flown so red through his veins. Never has his maw been so tight, teeth snapping and starving to rip out Naoya's throat. Part of him is ready to stand on the battlefield because who is he if not a child of war? A soldier from birth, abandoned and discarded by all but the call to arms. He was born from the muddied blood, the murky waters of war. It is why the Zenins desire him so badly.
Megumi is so angry he thinks he could scream until he made the Kamis' ears bleed.
Megumi has never been more furious. But he has also never been more frightened.
And because he is sixteen, that wins out.
"What?" The words that fall from his mouth are broken. "But you promised."
Naoya sneers. "You're so pathetic, Megumi. At least that's one thing that tool of a Gojo has right. He doesn't care whether he's worthy of something or not. Doesn't care if he deserves it. Just cares that he wants it. And if he wants it, he takes it."
"Gojo doesn't want anything from you," Megumi protests.
"Not true," Naoya hums, face painted with a repulsive smugness. "He wanted you."
"The fuck are you talking about?"
"How do you think he got the Zenins off your back?" Naoya laughs, head thrown back. The imagery of slicing his throat out is so visceral that Megumi falters slightly, taking a step backwards. "You think he could have taken on the whole clan and won? Really?"
"Shut up," Megumi snaps, because they both know Gojo could've. He still could. Could decimate the entire clan with a blink of his eyes if he wanted to.
"There's a contract," Naoya says, dragging out the words around his teeth. Each syllable hits Megumi in the gut. "He bought you from us."
"Shut the fuck up."
His temples are thudding violently. "Gojo owns you," Naoya snorts. "For now, at least."
"You're lying."
"No, I'm not." And he's starting to sound genuinely frustrated that Megumi isn't listening to him. "There's a provision. Says you only become your own person when you finally get control of your cursed technique. That's why the Zenins are biding their time. They're gonna come for you as soon as Gojo's ownership runs out. I'm here to make sure that doesn't happen."
And with that, and a squeak of shoes against the gymnasium floor, Naoya is moving at a rapid speed, and a sharp pain is burying itself into Megumi's side.
And with that, Megumi roars, his shadows roaring with him, an endless, monstrous army rising its haunches.
Because Megumi might be a sixteen-year-old, but he is a sixteen-year-old who has been raised by Gojo Satoru, alongside other slightly deranged Jujutsu sorcerers, and he is fierce. He might still be relatively little, like a whole five inches shorter than Naoya, but he is brave and fierce and scrappy and also slightly deranged himself.
He is a sixteen-year-old boy who has smashed his fair share of controllers against his walls. He is a sixteen-year-old boy who is as addicted to winning as his blood father, and as aggressively competitive as his real father.
He is a sixteen-year-old boy who is painfully in love with Itadori Yuuji. And while he might've got his kiss, that for sure as shit isn't enough for him. He wants everything with Itadori Yuuji. He isn't dying a fucking virgin to the hands of Naoya Zenin.
*
The first thing Megumi felt when he woke up that morning, that first morning of freedom, twelve years old and severly exhausted, was terror. At the Zenin estate, he'd gotten used to holding his breath. It was almost second nature at that point, to keep his eyes closed and his breathing even. He was so good at playing asleep, only a step away from playing dead, that even Gojo Satoru in all his omniscience didn't realise he was awake.
"Yeah. He's fine now. Well, I don't know. No. Shoko said he'll be alright eventually. I just…you don't know what they do to kids in the clan. Oh, she did, did she? Yeah well, she doesn't know shit about it either. Neither of you did. You still don't know shit. You didn't…you weren't there."
As soon as he heard Gojo's voice, he remembered what had happened the day before, and a thread of hope started to needle in at his chest. He cut at it immediately, because he'd had dreams so vivid they had felt real before. It felt like every night spent at the Zenin estate consisted of false memories of escaping, being freed, murdering every single Zenin he could before eventually running.
In the months that he had spent as a gilded prisoner, Megumi had learned that while grief was an amputation, hope was a far more excruciating wound. Clotting, but still bleeding out slowly. Until it kills.
"Whatever. You used to be way better at consoling me, dickhead. You always knew what to say." There was a pause in Gojo's words, and Megumi used the time to try his best to figure out whether last night had been real or not. "Yeah. I guess I never did. Never pretended to be good at that though...Well, it's different with kids. I don't-look I'm not asking for fucking parenting advice. Besides, girls are different than boys. And it's not like yours have issues like this to deal with. The worst thing in their lives is their asshole of a daddy."
A click of tongue. Colourful swearing. The sound of something being thrown at a wall with Cursed Energy. Shattering.
The shattering snapped Megumi out of it. Dream or not, he had to be ready. As he opened his eyes, he leapt up, bare feet dropping to the floor. Teeth bared, his hands clapped together, and his dogs were by his side, maws snapping and growling in warning already.
Megumi scanned for the danger, faltering when all he found in the room was Gojo Satoru, blindfold pulled down around his neck and looking a little feral, and a smashed iPhone 6.
"Hey kid," Gojo said, a small smile on his face. It was a little creepy, the smile. Like he was trying not to cry or something. And the thought of that really freaked out Megumi.
"Hey," he replied, clearing his throat and awkwardly stepping out of his fighting stance. But as he moved, he grimaced in pain, trembling legs buckling in on themselves. "Oh," was all that punched itself out of his mouth before he was falling onto the tiled floor of the infirmary. Huh. So that's where he was. Back at Jujutsu Tech. Always in that damn infirmary.
Not a dream.
Instead of cracking his knees on the tiles though, he found himself in Gojo's arms, being swept up and firmly place back on the infirmary bed with the familiar scratchy hospital sheets. "You okay?" Gojo asked before cringing at himself, tired hand coming up to dig into his hair. He was trembling too.
"Sorry," Gojo huffed in a poor attempt at humour. "Stupid question."
"It's whatever," Megumi shrugged. "I'm used to you asking stupid questions." Gojo laughed at that, sounding like himself for a moment. And then he kind of folded in on himself, before he was reaching forward and pulling Megumi into his chest, blunt nails scraping the back of his neck as Gojo prodded at him, as if making sure Megumi was really there.
"We're gonna get you some more shikigami, kay?" He heard Gojo say, even as he returned the hug, bringing his arms filled with lead up around Gojo's waist. "So you can properly protect yourself. So something like this never happens again."
"Why…why did it take you so long to come?" Megumi found himself asking back, eyes screwed shut. There was a moment of a heavy silence, before Gojo was stepping back, Megumi's arms falling back to his side. "Look, I couldn't just…" Gojo trailed off with a frustrated sigh, before he crouched down, so they were eye level with one another. "I couldn't just come in and kill all of them."
"Isn't that what you did anyway?"
"They attacked first."
He really didn't understand why that mattered, but nodded all the same. "Oh. Okay."
"Megumi, I wanted to come and get you so bad, okay? The entire time. I was going crazy here." Megumi would've preferred to go crazy safe at home than be tortured at the Zenin Estate, but he didn't say that out loud.
"There was just-I had to do it a certain way," Gojo continued, working his bottom lip through his teeth. "I had to figure some shit out first."
"And you got it figured out?" Megumi asked. He shuffled in place, the feeling familiar ache of pain thudding dully around his body. He knew he would need to ask for Shoko soon, bones too heavy in his body and blood too hot in his veins. But first, he needed Gojo to tell him what the hell was going on.
"Yeah," Gojo nodded. "Yeah, I did."
"What was it?" Megumi demanded. The older man sighed heavily before wrapping his arms around Megumi again, tucking his head under his chin as he hugged him tighter than he ever had before. "You're a kid, Megs. Just be a kid for now. Let me worry about all of the bullshit, okay?" And he thought it was kind of ironic, that Gojo trusted Megumi enough to defeat more of his shikigami, that he trusted Megumi to tame an entire gigantic evil snake, but not enough to tell him his secrets.
"Just…" Megumi trailed off. "I don't want that to happen again."
"It won't," Gojo answered instantly. "I promise you it won't, Megumi. I won't let it."
*
Blood coats Megumi's hands as he hisses through his teeth, eyes narrowing at the wound sliced through his jacket. At least the crimson isn't super obvious. Probably won't leave a stain. Huh. Maybe that's why the uniforms are black. He's never thought about that before.
But now, it's all he can think about. Especially as he refuses to think about the bullshit Naoya was spouting about Gojo. He's got too much shit piling up on his plate right now to add to it.
He wipes his wet hand off on his sleeve, blinking back up towards Naoya. Standing there, breathing considerably harder than before, he suddenly notices something he hadn't before, too focused on his unconscious boyfriend. The asshole's left eye is slightly swollen, a blemish of purple already blossoming beneath it.
Megumi doesn't bother stopping the grin that spreads across his face, slightly manic as he goads, "You let a normie get a hit on you?" Whistling amusedly, green eyes dart towards Yuuji, before landing back on Naoya.
Too late though, because Megumi is already knocked onto the floor, wind punched straight from his lungs as Naoya stands over him, twirling his pretentious tantō in his fingers. "If the Zenins hear about that, you'll be disowned for sure," Megumi wheezes, eyes tearing up.
"Good thing you and the monkey are gonna be dead before anyone hears about it," Naoya hisses, leaning down and lifting Megumi up from the linoleum floor by his hair.
"Maybe," he stutters out. "But they're still gonna see that shiner my boyfriend landed on you, dipshit." And in the frame that Naoya moves in, pulling his forearm back to strike a blow to Megumi's face, he manages to drop to the floor, and hide amongst his shadows. He bites down on a cry of pain, swearing colourfully as he presses his own shadow against his side, trying his best to stem the bleeding. He cannot believe Naoya is such a coward that he's resorted to using a dagger. Pussy.
"You're gonna bleed out before you get a hit on me, mutt." Naoya's voice rings out, and Megumi watches him from the safety of his shadows as he stalks along the length of the gymnasium. If the Zenins really thought he was a feral mongrel, they should've pulled his teeth out if they ever wanted a shot at domesticating him.
"Yeah?" he laughs as he slides out of the darkness back into the dim light, Kon at his side, snarling in Naoya's direction. "You're the one that needed to get in reinforcements to kill a sixteen-year-old, asshole." With that, Kon darts forward, paws thudding against the floor as his jaw widens, ready to tear at any limb of Naoya he can reach.
While the guy's distracted for a moment, Megumi quickly summons all of his Cursed Energy into pooling all of the shadows in the room he can reach into one big wave of darkness. As he stands on one side, Naoya on the other, he can see the exact moment the other sorcerer hesitates. With a snort of amusement, the tsunami of darkness is rushing towards Naoya.
Naoya uses his technique to dart away, but the darkness doesn't let up. Megumi doesn't let up. Not as he lets his own wave wash over him, and he stalks within in towards Naoya, pushing the asshole away from Yuuji. And with a smirk, he flicks his fingers forward, and Orochi bursts from the wave, floorboards splintering as it snaps towards Naoya, the painted basketball court ruined.
The serpent can't hold Naoya in its jaws for long, the asshole using his technique to escape easily, but that wasn't Megumi's aim. No, Naoya fell for the bait easily. Hook, line and sink as Megumi bursts out from the shadows to Naoya's side, sailing through the air with his hands wrapped around his blade, falling straight for Naoya's neck. While he manages to cut at him, blood spraying onto Megumi's own face, Naoya still darts out of the way, keeping his head attached to his neck. Snarling with irritation, and the knowledge that he is slowly running out of time here, Megumi flicks his shadows up onto Naoya's hakama. Slowing his movement down enough so he can't effectively use his technique, Megumi swings at Naoya again and again, reducing the fight to more of a close combat brawl than anything else. They both dance around each other, Megumi refusing to let Naoya touch him, and Naoya darting away from the shadows that constantly creep in towards him.
"You're so predictable, mongrel," Naoya sighs, sweat dripping from his face. Rolling his eyes, Megumi keeps switching between defence and offence, the hilt of his blade slick from his own sweat, when suddenly he feels something familiar press against his Technique. Gojo is still dimming Nobara's Cursed Energy so neither Naoya nor Megumi can sense it. But Megumi picks up on the feeling of her shadow as soon as she drops down into the dark gymnasium, Maki's shadow right beside her, casting their silhouettes across the wall.
Silently, his fingers twitch around his blade, before he's throwing it towards Naoya's head. In the single frame it takes for the older man to avoid it, Megumi claps his hands together to summon a singular rabbit, wordlessly ordering it to go to Nobara and Maki, relying on Maki to understand his plan.
"It's a pity, honestly. What Gojo did to you. What you let him do to you. You allowed another clan to stifle your potential. You allowed the Gojos to spit all over your father's name."
"Do you ever stop talking?" Megumi groans. "Like seriously? You love the sound of your own voice that much? Is it cause every time you tried to speak back home, your daddy slapped the shit out of you? No one wanted to listen to little Naoya's stories? Your dick that small that you gotta yap this much to make up for it? Do you talk this much to the women you pay to sleep with you? Beg them to listen to you since no one else will?"
"Listen here," Naoya hisses, drawing in closer to Megumi, green eyes ablaze with rage. "You're a pathetic, little-"
He's cut off by Playful Cloud emerging from Megumi's wave of shadows and brutally smacking him against the head. "How dare you, stupid bitch!" Naoya roars, spinning in an attempt to snatch at Maki. "That weapon belongs to the Zenin Clan!"
"Isn't it funny?" Nobara cackles as she ducks out from under the shadows too, flicking her hair over her shoulder. "Poetic justice or whatever. You getting fucked up by your cousins, with your family's weapon!"
"You brought the whores as backup?" Naoya snorts in amusement, as he glances back over at Megumi, not even deigning to respond to Nobara. And in typical Nobara fashion, being denied attention doesn't go over well with her.
"Gimme that thing, Maki-senpai," she snarls, teeth biting down on her bottom lip. "I'm gonna shove it down this dickhead's throat and split him in two."
"Concentrate!" Maki just yells back at her, at the same time Naoya bursts out into manic laughter.
"Senpai. Tengen, that's hilarious. I'm gonna make you call me that when you're finally fulfilling your role as your superiors' personal slut."
"You should've been hit a lot more as a child," Nobara snarls, hair flying with the speed she hits her nails towards Naoya. As the two of them fight, Nobara panting with either immense rage or fatigue, Maki slinks over to Megumi. "We'll keep him distracted," she rushes out. "Go to your boyfriend."
"You won't be able to win against him. He'll kill you."
"Did I say we'd win?" Maki snaps, ponytail whipping as she glares at Megumi. "Or did I say we'd distract him? Now go." She doesn't leave room for argument, fingers wrapping tightly around her staff as she pushes forward towards Nobara and Naoya, knuckles strangled with white.
He hesitates for a moment before sprinting to the other side of the gymnasium, shoes squeaking with each step he runs. Skidding onto his knees, he drops down beside Yuuji, grasping at his boyfriend's face as he lowers his ear towards his parted lips.
"Yuuji?" he murmurs, trembling hands moving from Yuuji's cheeks to his neck to his shoulders. "Yuu?" He's begging now, desperately shaking his boyfriend's body, nails digging into Yuuji's blazer. "Come on baby," he pleads. "Wake up."
He's almost so panicked that he doesn't notice Yuuji stirring. Almost. "Fuck," he exhales when Yuuji's eyes blink open one at a time, squinting in confusion. "Fuck. Piece of shit, you scared me," he half sighs, half sobs, head hanging in relief. "Look, I think you've got a concussion. Your pupils are huge."
It almost looks like he's high, big brown eyes all glassy as he looks up at Megumi, grinning widely. As if there aren't bloody handprints pressed into his skin, and bruises kissed all over his face.
"You called me baby."
Megumi draws back in surprise, holding Yuuji up by his shirt and blinking down at the other boy. Someone had to be taking the piss.
"Can you get it together for like two seconds please?" Megumi manages to stutter out in annoyance. Glancing over his shoulder, he swears under his breath as he watches Nobara stuck in place due to Naoya, before she's pushed to the side, body limp as she smacks against the wooden wall.
His attention is drawn back to his boyfriend when a clammy hand comes up to circle his wrist. "Yuuji. Look, we don't-"
"God," Yuuji breathes out, blood coating his teeth. He looks demented. They probably both look demented. Sitting here, bleeding out in their respective uniforms. Megumi, a failed soldier. Yuuji, a powerless civilian caught in his crossfire. "You're so beautiful."
"Itadori, for fuck's sake!" he cries out in frustration. Yuuji just keeps smiling up at him, all wistful and gorgeous covered in both of their blood, lying beaten half to death in his high school gymnasium, because Megumi has just spent the last four months with a gun pressed against Yuuji's temples while distracting him with fleeting kisses and pink hair dye and promises of a future he knows is already condemned.
As Megumi sits there, white knuckled grip clutching at Yuuji's ruined school shirt, he prays to anyone that will listen for help. Tragedy blossoming, Megumi feels his hope splintering, giving in to the familiar ache of helplessness. "I'm sorry," he breathes, shaking his head at Yuuji, and his glassy brown eyes and his split lip. "I'm sorry, Yuu."
And as always, the blue, burning flame of Gojo Satoru banishes his shadows from the room as he teleports himself right beside Yuuji and Megumi. Pale, unblemished hands pass over Yuuji's face before the teenager is chuckling softly to himself and muttering, "Woah. Brain freeze."
"He'll be fine," Gojo says, completely looking over Yuuji as he turns to Megumi. "Keep an eye on your boy. Don't let him shut his eyes."
Before Megumi can say anything else, Naoya is yelling from the other side of the room. At the same time, Gojo and Megumi both glance over their shoulders to see Nobara crumpled up at the side, blood dripping down from her hairline, as Maki stands between her and Naoya, breathing heavily.
"Gojo!" Naoya snarls, eyes wild.
"Yo," Gojo waves, fingers dancing through the air as he straightens up to his full height. "Been a while, Naoya. Sorry kids," he smirks, rolling back his shoulders. "Something came up. But Sensei is here now to save the day."
"Fuck you!" Naoya roars, all prior composure gone from barely winning a fight against three teenagers. "You piece of-" Gojo doesn't let him finish, before a mass of opal light is hurtling towards Naoya at the speed of light, infinitely quicker than his Technique, and the man is being crushed into the floor by matter itself, held there as the laminated floor around him splinters everywhere.
Sharp splinters of wood spray in every direction, and Megumi throws himself over Yuuji to cover him, vaguely aware of Maki doing the same with Nobara. "What did I tell you back in 2012, Naoya?" Gojo demands, his usual giddiness at getting to fight someone gone.
"Eat shit, Gojo," Naoya wheezes out, the area around him continuing to snap and collapse in on itself as Gojo pushes him further and further into the ground with Blue.
"I told you, the last time you fucked with my kid, that it was gonna be the last time. Didn't I? Yeah. Yeah, I'm pretty sure I did. So you wanna tell me why the hell you're fucking with him again?"
"He's not your kid," Naoya snarls. Megumi can't even see him anymore, not as Gojo continues burying him into the soil beneath the building. The foundations crack and scream under Blue, metal supports fracturing.
"Yes, he is," Gojo snaps back. He's rising above the ground, hands twitching at his side as he stares down into the grave he's punched through the Earth itself.
"He's your property. Some sort of fucked up prize you think you earned by killing-"
Naoya's voice is cut off abruptly, along with the sound of the floor collapsing around them. "Gojo?" Megumi calls out as he sits up, blowing away the sawdust and grime floating around. He watches, still clinging onto Yuuji, as Gojo drops back onto the floor without a noise.
"Now," Gojo sighs, grinning over his shoulder towards Megumi. "We have two options here. Resolve this whole thing diplomatically. Or bury this asshole alive under a high school gymnasium."
Note