Turns out the entire thing was almost just a misunderstanding.
Key word being almost.
Kusakabe was pissed that Gojo hadn't taught Nobara and Megumi key sections of the curriculum, so now he had to make up for that as well as teach them the second-year subjects. Yaga was pissed that Gojo had wasted away a solid chunk of the school's budget on something stupid again, even though Gojo claimed he was always going to pay the school the money back himself. No one had been pissed off about Gojo enrolling Yuuji. No one else had even known about Gojo's plan to enrol Yuuji. And Gojo hadn't even enrolled Yuuji yet in the first place.
Problem solved!
Except Megumi is so viscerally angry his jaw hurts from resisting the urge to tear someone's throat out with his teeth.
He's stood outside Yaga's office, red washing over his vision as all his precarious manners are crushed under the heavy thud of his boot tapping against the floor. Tap, tap, tap. Yaga is staring down at him, stood firmly in front of the door to his office. Megumi is considering how much shit he'd really be in if he used his shadows to swallow his principle up into a void in order to storm into the room by himself.
"Why can't I go in?" he demands, furiously pushing the image of Yuuji and Gojo waiting in there for Yaga out of his mind. Except it doesn't work, and Megumi's entire head is swallowed by the traitorous fuckers.
"Fushiguro-kun," Yaga sighs, and while the older man is clearly frustrated with the entire situation, his voice is kind as he speaks to Megumi. His face softens entirely, solid hand dropping onto Megumi's shoulder as he smiles sadly and says, "You know this has nothing to do with you."
He goes to protest, anger rising in his throat. "Yuuji's my-"
"I know," Yaga cuts him off. "And I know he means a lot to you, but you are not his guardian, or his teacher or his supervisor. I know you care about him, but that does not automatically make you entitled to sit in on this meeting."
"You don't get it," Megumi chokes out, because he already knows what's going to happen. He already knows the score. They all do. They are all born with the same knowledge as sorcerers. It's like some sort of fucked up instinct inbred into them. To consume and to devour and to ruin. Jujutsu sorcerers see something useful, and will do whatever they can to use it, careless that the weapon will be intrinsically different to how it began. It's his fault, he knows it is. From the moment he met Yuuji, he knew what would happen. He let his world seep into Yuuji, and it's going to ruin him. Ruin both of them.
"He'll enrol. If you let him, he'll do it. He will, I know he will." And his voice is rising, washed with frantic panic. Yaga's face is as still as ever. "If that's what he chooses then that's what he chooses, I'm afraid. There is nothing you can do to stop that. Itadori-kun is his own person."
"He doesn't even have Cursed Energy!" Megumi yells, and he knows Yuuji and Gojo can hear him from inside the office. He pictures them – Gojo lounging on Yaga's seat like he loves to do, feet up on the desk in a mocking portrait of the man who gains the most from Jujutsu attempting to disparage it. He wonders how Gojo treats Yuuji when it's just the two of them. Imagines Gojo speaking to Yuuji the same way he used to speak to Megumi. Spinning tales of power and supremacy and dragons controlled by man. Of saving the world and blowing over the ancient deities of the Meiji era to emerge as modern gods.
Megumi hadn't believed him at first. Especially when Gojo had tried to desperately convince him that he was one of those gods. That he could stand beside Gojo and save mankind in the face of pure evil incarnate. Then he'd learned the truth about Jujutsu through his own eyes, and his own heartbreak, and he'd realised what he'd always known. Gojo was full of bullshit. Jujutsu might be real, but it isn't good. It isn't a fight between the virtuous and the repugnant. It's a slog - a lifelong commitment to treading a very thin line between surviving and dying. It is a trap.
And Megumi hadn't gone along with it because of Gojo's stories of the Strongest. Of two soldiers fighting side by side until their last breath or of friendship forged through hardships or of women with magic touch that could pull someone back from the brink of Yomi. He'd gone along with it because he felt like he was indebted to Gojo. That feeling slowly morphed into a begrudging admiration for the man, which in turn again turned to a sort of love. That was why he fought.
Yuuji is not like Megumi. He sees the good in people. He sees the honour in sacrifice and endurance. Already he's the pinnacle of martyrdom, the Hector of an unimportant high school in Tokyo. From sitting on the sidelines of a volleyball game when there are too many players, to wordlessly letting someone else take the last slice of pizza. Megumi sours as he tries to imagine how that might scale up to Jujutsu.
Yuuji is not like Megumi. He will not fight out of obligation to those he loves. He will fight out of his own foolish, unreasonable obligation to every single, living, breathing thing. Even though no one has done anything to deserve that obligation. No one has done anything good enough to deserve a sacrifice from Itadori Yuuji.
"The only way in which he could become a sorcerer is if he consumes Sukuna's fingers! You know what will happen then, Yaga-sensei," Megumi adds, voice lowering as he pleads pathetically. "You know what they'll do to him if that happens. Please."
"I'll do my best, Fushiguro-kun, alright? I won't allow the boy to place himself in unnecessary danger."
"Okay. Thank you," he says, even though he doesn't feel like he should have to thank this man for doing the bare minimum. Somehow, it's the most he thinks he's gonna get.
Yaga bows his head before he moves, heading into the office. Megumi chases after him even though he already knows its futile, the room's wards flying up as soon as Yaga steps over the threshold, refusing to allow anyone who the principle hasn't given permission to enter inside. He thinks the only way he could push his way through is by summoning Mahoraga. Fingers flexing, he considers it for a solid minute.
Snarling, he pounds his fist against the door once for good measure anyway. "Fuck you!" he adds, words ripping through his throat.
He doesn't even know who he's yelling at as he knocks his head against the door with a sigh. Twelve-years-old again, screaming his lungs out and thrashing against the warded door at the Zenin estate until his skin cracked and his fists bled. He doesn't think he's ever got past that. Probably. Thinks it'll haunt him for the rest of his life. He doesn't think you're supposed to be seventeen and still feel twelve and lonely and sad like this. Stepping away from the door after deciding punching it until his fingers bleed would be overzealous, he looks down the bare hallway.
There is a silence. It fell over the campus as soon as everyone realised what was happening, lips parted, and eyes widened. Everyone bit their lips and held their tongues and waited for darkness to descent. It never did, because while everyone else is silent, there is a constant ringing sounding off in Megumi's own head. He shakes it, and it doesn't stop. Flicks his finger against his temple, and it still doesn't stop. He considers going to Shoko about it, mostly just to have something to do, but he doesn't think he can handle her right now.
Normally, he revels in their little back and forth of meaningless insults and matching apathy, but he doesn't think he could stand listening to her talk about Yuuji like she does everything else – like he does everything else. Yuuji is different. He's different.
He can't go to Shoko. Her unwavering, houndlike loyalty to Gojo would be enough to compete with, let alone her apathy knocking against his skull while her Cursed Energy attempts to soothe.
He sort of wants to go to Nanami, but the idea of calling and hearing the man's voice knocks the searing anger in Megumi's chest over, the smoke billowing across his eyes. He already knows what Nanami would say. Already knows that Nanami might crack and snap and rant and rage at Gojo in the way that he very rarely does. He would over this. Megumi doesn't want to let his rage blow into Nanami's, catching and burning everything up.
He can't go to any of them, he decides in a fit of irritation. Pushing away from Yaga's door, he kicks it brutally before leaving. Tongue running over his teeth with the urge to spit and bite, he pulls out his phone. Itchy with anger, he stalks through the empty corridors, pounding head and pounding heart, waiting for someone to respond. He watches as his classmates leave his message on seen, before someone finally starts to type.
Someone spar with me. [20:23]
Hakari [20:29] K little man ur on
Maki [20:30] He's literally gonna try kill you
Okkotsu [20:30] I don't think is a great idea guys
Okkotsu [20:30] this isn't a great coping mechanism for anger
Okkotsu [20:30] lets just wait to see what happens first Fushiguro-kun
Nobara [20:31] take the feral dog for a walk Hakari
Kirara [20:31] istfgggggg if you maim my bf
Inumaki [20:31] he's defos getting maimed ( ^ิ艸^ิﾟ)
"Where were all these snarky fucking messages when I first asked?" he hisses under his breath as he makes his way to the training gym, jaw rolling. He's half expecting them all to be there waiting for him, eyes blown wide from the spectacle of it all. But the only one there when he shoulders open the door is Hakari, leaning against the wall as he carefully bandages his hands.
"Hey," he nods in lazy acknowledgement when Megumi steps inside.
"You're wrapping your fists?" Megumi asks, but it comes out accusatory and snappy and more biting than he means. Hakari doesn't seem to take offence, not even really looking at Megumi as he shrugs offhandedly.
"My hands are pretty valuable, Fushiguro. Kirara likes 'em," he winks as he vaults easily into the training ring. Megumi's left eye starts twitching at the mention of Hakari's girlfriend, because now all he can think about is Yuuji's hand in his. Yuuji's finger tracing the panes of his stomach, Yuuji's fingers digging into his hair, Yuuji's hands covered in ink and hair dye and ketchup.
"Besides," Hakari adds, snapping Megumi violently out of his stupor. "You're tweaking. Like straight tweaking. Don't wanna break anything."
"We're not using Techniques?" Megumi asks, and Hakari outright laughs in response. A spike of anger floods through his bloodstream, but Hakari's grin quickly turns from mocking to fond. Megumi's never liked this about Hakari. He constantly feels like he's stood on the outside of an inside joke whenever he speaks to the older boy, thrown off by Hakari's boyish grin worn on the same face as his calculating, moving eyes. But he's the only one willing to let Megumi tear at him, so beggars can't be choosers.
"Nah," Hakari shakes his head, and then he's moving before Megumi can do much about it. The adrenaline scratching across his body makes it easy to move, but he walks right into Hakari's right fist, getting caught on the mouth.
"Fuck," he chokes out, spitting blood onto the ground before wiping his lips with the back of his hand.
"You don't wanna use your Technique," Hakari shrugs, shaking out his own fist. "You wanna beat the fuck out of someone."
"I wanna kill someone," Megumi answers honestly, before hurtling himself at Hakari. The older boy grunts out a laugh before swerving, purple dreads whipping through the air. Teeth gritted, jaw clenched and vibrating with ire, Megumi explodes. He's not really aware of his own movements, running on complete instincts as he tries his best to scratch and kick and claw. It makes it easier for Hakari to avoid him, because that's all he seems to be focusing on. He doesn't hit back as Megumi grunts out in frustration, limbs trembling with the urge to crack the earth bellow them apart.
"Shit Fushiguro," Hakari grins when Megumi lands a frantic fist to his gut, the impact ricocheting down his entire arm. "You can pack a mean punch."
He wishes he could actually pack a punch. Wishes he could take the entire world apart with his resentment. Wishes he was the Strongest. So he could take them all on. If he was the Strongest, he wouldn't be like Gojo. He'd actually concentrate on his fucking job, instead of indoctrinating innocent teenagers. He'd actually concentrate on the one fucking thing he's good for, instead of placing everyone else in danger.
He doesn't realise Hakari's stopped moving until he leaps at him with a barely constrained yell, rippling with anger. Hakari stops him easily, hand firmly on Megumi's shoulder. "What the fuck are you-" The older boy cuts him off with a tight jaw, gesturing with his head to something behind them. Megumi glances over his shoulder to see Gojo leaning against the wall, ankles crossed and tongue running across his teeth.
"Where is he?" Megumi demands, barely able to even look at Gojo through his anger. "What happened? Is he-is he alright?" Because through the seeping, scorching wrath burns a brighter kind of worry. A worry that he doesn't think he'll ever be able to shake, because Itadori Yuuji has carved out a piece of his heart he's not ever gonna get back. He replaced it with something softer. Something kinder. Something wrapped in soft palms and lazy kisses and a promise of all the time in the fucking world.
"He's fine," Gojo nods, blindfold tied tightly around his eyes, arms folded strongly against his chest. His jaw is clenched, like he's readying for a fight. Megumi wants to let out a harsh bark of laughter, but an exhale of relief is what falls from his lips instead. Thank Tengen for this tiny sliver of mercy he's been granted.
"What did Yaga do then?" he asks, because as much as he does want to chew Gojo up and spit him out, he needs to be caught up with the situation first. He needs to go find Yuuji. "Are we still…can I still see him? Even though he knows about Jujutsu and everything? I still want to-"
"He's been enrolled. Officially now," he adds with a slight wince.
Megumi's jaw unhinges. He doesn't move, can't move, from his spot in front of Gojo. In the background, he's vaguely aware of Hakari leaving, shuffling out of the room and letting the door swing shut. "What the fuck are you talking about, Gojo?" he hisses, and it doesn't even sound like his voice. Someone older, someone harsher, someone he only remembers in coffee stains and muttered swears and cigarette burns, steps into his shadow.
"Yuuji-kun is a student of Jujutsu Tech. He'll go through an intensive course taught by a professional sorcerer to get caught up with you and Nobara before-"
"What are you talking about, Gojo?" Megumi repeats, voice catching in his throat and breaking before the words shatter into the air. "What are you talking about?" And he sounds desperate now, like a caged animal howling and crying out. Teeth snapping and saliva foaming and jaw strained futilely. "What're you-"
"I told Yuuji I'd speak to you first. That I'd explain and-"
"Explain what?" Megumi spits out, shuddering away from Gojo's touch. He recoils in on himself, hands coming up to grip at his trembling face. "How you both teamed up to ruin my fucking life?"
"This isn't about you, Megumi," Gojo says, and his voice makes Megumi pause. He hesitates, unsteady hands falling from his face to stare up at the man who he thought would save him. Blinking, the image of Gojo shudders into the image of Gojo Satoru, the Strongest, and Megumi feels it like a bullet to his chest. Here he is, stood before his superior, foolish for ever thinking Gojo could be anything but what he is. Foolish for thinking he had a part of Gojo that no one else would. Desperately wanting to snatch back the part of himself that he'd gifted Gojo in return.
"This isn't about you, Meg," Gojo continues, voice strained. "This is about Yuuji, and him wanting to actually do something with his life. Something meaningful."
"He already was!" Megumi yells, because he cannot believe this motherfucker got to Yuuji with his Jujutsu propaganda. "Living his own life was meaningful! Tengen, everything he did had meaning to me. I just - he wanted to be a firefighter. But who the fuck cares about any of that, because Gojo Satoru thinks he should be a Jujutsu sorcerer. And what Gojo Satoru wants, he gets. Am I right?"
"Yuuji should be a sorcerer. If you'd just-"
"None of us should be," Megumi interrupts bitterly. "Sorcery's a blight."
Gojo's face twitches, as if Megumi's just slapped him. As if it isn't Megumi stood in front of him, but someone else. A shadow of Gojo's past, eyes narrowed, and lips pressed together and heart bleeding as someone once again disparages the ideals, he's held his entire life. "Then who would exorcise the curses?" Gojo demands, sounding almost as furious as Megumi. It takes the two of them burning up in fury for Megumi to realise he looks like Gojo's mirror image in this state. "Who would save the world? You'd rather humanity just be abandoned?"
"That's not fair," Megumi protests, feeling eight years old again. "Why is it all on us? Why is it always on you?" he asks, borderline begging for Gojo to see the situation he's putting Yuuji in.
"It doesn't matter if it's fair or not," Gojo breathes, head tilted to the floor, refusing to look at Megumi. "Someone has to do it. We protect the weak and crush the strong. Jujutsu exists for the sake of non-jujutsu society. Someone has to do it," he repeats.
"Why does Yuuji have to do it?" Megumi screams out.
"Because he's already the vessel, Megumi!" Gojo yells back.
"Huh?"
"He's already Sukuna's vessel. I picked up on the Cursed Energy months ago. Why did you think he could suddenly start seeing curses? I can't say for sure, but I have to assume it happened that day with Naoya. He's already consumed a finger. One of the stolen ones. Something is at play here, and someone has decided Yuuji is to be a pawn. Isn't it better if he's in control of his own power? This is the right move to make."
"But Yuuji doesn't feel any different to me," he objects, but its broken and trembling because who is he to go up against Gojo Satoru in this. But the idea that someone else knows Yuuji a little bit better, knows something that Megumi was completely in the dark about, is tearing him up inside.
"Of course he doesn't," Gojo shrugs, but it isn't particularly kind. "He was always two steps away from being a real life One Punch Man anyway."
"You're not even making any sense! He never…" But Megumi trails off as the pieces start to fall together in his mind. He hadn't really noticed, because Yuuji has always been so soft. Like a breeze in a Summer evening, he's always speaking with a smile or moving with grace. His hands under fabric, grazing skin have always been gentle and his fingers tracing the leaves against the sidewalk have always been tender.
It had been that, that Megumi had focused on. Even when Yuuji almost smashed open a jar of gherkins trying to open it (he'd been grinning so widely that Megumi had felt dizzy) or when he flung Megumi over his shoulder (his warm hands had cupped his waist tenderly) or when he had held him up against the wall and the plaster had crumbled beside Megumi's head (concern had painted Yuuji's beautiful face as he brushed the debris off Megumi's shoulder.) Even when Yuuji moved with a strength that should have been impossible, it had been coated over with his usual, innate kindness.
"Oh," is punched out of Megumi's chest.
"Humans are creatures of habit," Gojo elaborates. "Yuuji isn't using Cursed Energy because he doesn't know he can. Because he wasn't able to before a couple of months ago."
"But he can," Megumi breathes, and it doesn't come out as a question.
"Yes," Gojo nods in answer anyway.
"Just because he can doesn't mean he should," he tries to argue, but he already knows where he stands. Already knows that the fight has been lost. And what chance did he have? He was never gonna win this one. Not when his opposition was God, offering Yuuji a chance to be someone better, someone greater. Megumi feels his own heart breaking, shards cutting into his lungs, his capillaries, his oesophagus.
Stupidly, he never thought it would happen like this.
He never thought his heart would be the one to break first.
He was so sure he would die before this might happen.
"Megumi," Gojo says slowly, like he's explaining something to a child. Megumi wants to rip his throat out. "Someone fed Yuuji one of Sukuna's fingers. What's done is done. Now look. There is a bright side here-"
"They'll execute him!" Megumi's voice is loud. "You think the Higher Ups will let him live now?"
"I'm not gonna let that happen," Gojo promises, like that is a thing he can promise.
And Megumi had trusted Gojo to save his own life. To protect him, and keep him safe. It took years, a hard and strained decade, but Megumi gifted him that. He even gave him Tsumiki too, tentatively placing trust in Gojo's palms for her life too. He doesn't think he can give him Yuuji now. Not after everything's gone to shit.
"They own you, Gojo!" Megumi hisses. The shadows in the room rise behind him, casting streaks of darkness across the side of his face, stark against his pale skin. "They own you just like you fucking own me!" he spits, throwing everything he tried to plaster straight back in Gojo's face. Because while he loves a kind man, Megumi himself is incapable of it. "What the hell are you gonna do about it?"
"How many times are we gonna have this conversation, kid?" Gojo asks, pretending to be tired and exasperated and irritated when Megumi can hear the hurt painting his words. Good. Megumi hopes it hurts. He hopes Gojo fucking bleeds.
"As many times as it takes for you to realise that I don't trust you," Megumi snaps. "You're not my fucking dad!"
Something akin to pain stabs across Gojo's face. It's gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced with a familiar coldness as he grits out, "You think I don't know that?"
"I don't know anything," Megumi exclaims. "I don't know anything about you! You fucking refuse to talk to me while expecting me to blindly trust you with my life. You went behind my back to lead my boyfriend to his execution and are acting pissed because I don't trust you to now help him? You're crazy!"
"Oh my god! He was already in that position, okay?" Gojo sighs out, exasperated beyond belief. His arms fly through the air as he gesticulates, landing on a single finger pointing straight towards Megumi's heart. "I am literally helping him! This is me literally helping him."
A huff of upset amusement leaves his lips as he shakes his head. He doesn't know what he did in his past life to deserve Gojo's help. He doesn't want it. Hopes that he doesn't deserve it. Wonders what cruel, malicious sins his father must have committed for his son to be punished in this way. "Whatever asshole," he grits out. "Just leave me alone."
"Megumi," Gojo sighs as he makes to leave. Hearing his name fall from Gojo's mouth breaks something in him. He doesn't have enough solid things within him left to break. Jujutsu's made sure of that. It has taken all the best parts of him and mangled them beyond recognition. Now he has to sit idly and watch it do the same to Yuuji. Just as it did to Geto Suguru and every other sorcerer that has ever lived and died. "I didn't mean to-"
"You never do, Gojo. You never fucking mean to but somehow it ends up happening every time anyway," he says as he leaves, refusing to look behind him until he's made it out safely. He glances over his shoulder once as he leaves, the movement completely involuntary. He just has to check that Gojo isn't following him, even as he feels his chest ache and beg and plead, please follow me. Please fix this. Please, please, please don't do this to him. Don't do this to him or to me. Don't do this because it already happened to you. It already happened to you and you know there's no salvation for this.
But the door doesn't open again and Gojo doesn't follow him, and Megumi can't fix anything. The first time Gojo's ever listened to him, he thinks with a strange mix of sardonic amusement. The first time he's ever listened, and it's the one-time Megumi didn't want him to. There's a pebble in his shoe, he realises as he trudges down the corridors. He's reminded of it with each step, digging into the flat of his heel.
His anger has faded slightly by the time he makes it to his bedroom, seeping into a pitiful sadness instead. Standing listlessly in the middle of his room, he feels sort of empty. He feels tired too. He just really wishes he could go speak to Tsumiki. She always knew what to do. When a knock on the door sounds, his head snaps towards it. For a moment, brain made stupid with the hurricane of emotions, he believes that it actually is Tsumiki. His big sister coming to help him with his problems that are too much for his seventeen-year-old self, but are perfectly manageable for his nineteen-year-old sister.
"Holy shit." The words fall into the air cracked and broken. "You're nineteen." The same age that Gojo was when he found them.
When he doesn't answer, the door pushes itself open anyway, and all the sadness and grief in his lungs is breathed out easily when Yuuji sticks his head into the room. He takes it back. He's glad Tsumiki isn't here, because there's no way she'd stand for Megumi tearing Yuuji's head clean off. "Fuck off, Itadori," he growls out, considering slamming the door on Yuuji's neck. But he moves before he can try it, slipping inside Megumi's room and letting the door shut with a soft click.
"Ouch," he pouts. "That stings. Don't do that, Megumi."
He almost has to admire Yuuji's nerve. "What do you want?"
"I want to talk. About all…about all of this," he gets out as he gestures at the space between them before his fingers clench into a fist. Megumi doesn't know how he's supposed to feel about that. About Yuuji reducing the breakdown of Megumi's entire life to a messy hand gesture.
"Oh," Megumi hums cruelly, eyes flicking up from Yuuji's hand to his face. "Now you wanna talk?"
"I swear I wanted to talk to you first," Yuuji starts. "You think this is how I wanted you to find out? I just got confused, I thought Gojo-san had jumped the gun and-"
"It doesn't matter that this is how I found out. You were never going to change your mind. You were never going to listen to me. No one ever fucking listens to me," he hisses, fingers digging into his hair because he needs to grab onto something before he does something unforgivable.
"Megumi-"
"I thought I'd finally caught a break," he breathes out. "I thought I'd finally… I'd found something untouched by jujutsu. Because it has ruined everything in my life, Yuuji. Everything. I won't let it ruin this."
"This?" Yuuji echoes dumbly, even though Megumi knows he isn't.
"Me and you," he elaborates anyway, watching as Yuuji's face blinks with something as close to anger as he's ever seen Yuuji get. "I won't let it."
"So what?" Yuuji barks out. "You're going to ruin it yourself? Like that makes sense."
"You did this!"
"I'm not the one breaking up with you right now, Meg."
"I can't be with you if you're going to do this," he answers honestly. "I'm not gonna watch it happen. I'm not going to stand by and watch you kill yourself."
"You're being unfair," he frowns, jaw wobbling.
"You made this bed. You and Gojo both. You can lie in it."
"You don't get it. Okay? Listen to me. It was already too late. Someone already did this to me, Megumi. This is me now." He emphasises that by slapping his hand against his chest, fingers digging in around his heart. "Do you want me to just sit and wait for them to come and make me into a weapon?"
"Either way you're a weapon, Yuuji," he hisses out, because he just doesn't get it. "Jujutsu society does not save. It does not help. It destroys and it ruins. That doesn't mean you have to be a willing participant in it!"
"Gojo-san said I might be able to wake up Tsumiki."
And this throws Megumi. "What?"
"Sukuna could break curses. Apparently. Back in the day," Yuuji shrugs. Like that means nothing. Like that is easy. Like that is something Megumi is just supposed to sit by and accept. Like this isn't breaking his heart.
"You'd have to consume at least half of Sukuna's power to get strong enough to ever do that," he tells him, tone scathing.
Yuuji blinks sadly up at him. "Megumi-"
"You're planning to?" he roars with disbelief. He can barely hear himself over his own thunderous heartbeat, struggling desperately to keep up with this whole situation.
"If it could help wake up your sister-"
"You'd kill yourself to save her?" he interrupts. "You'd put me in that position? Losing one person I love to save another? You think that's a fair fucking trade? You think so little of me that you believe I'd sacrifice you to save Tsumiki?"
There's silence for a moment, Yuuji's face painted with shock, before he's slowly repeating, "love?"
And really? That's the one thing Yuuji's gonna take from this whole shitshow? "You're such a dick! Get the hell out of my room," he demands, throwing the door open and grabbing Yuuji by the collar, screeching in frustration when the boy doesn't move an inch. Fuck him and fuck this Cursed Energy and fuck everything.
"Telling me to piss off isn't going to fix anything, okay? Can we just-"
"This is unfixable," he says, because he needs Yuuji to understand this at least, if he isn't going to listen to anything else Megumi has to say. "If you won't leave then I will," he says with a scowl, hand dropping from Yuuji's collar like it's burning metal. As he goes to leave his own damned room, his pocket catches on the door handle, and as much as Megumi yanks, it won't come undone.
Letting loose a cry of livid annoyance, Megumi's hand flicks sharply to the right. All of the shadows in the room come together in an amalgamation, tearing the door clean off of its hinges with a cracking sound. He's panting, whole body trembling, but he hesitates in the doorway anyway. Glancing over his shoulder, he's ready to see Yuuji looking up at him in horror. Looking at him with the slow, dawning realisation that Jujutsu is destructive and violent, even for a boy so full of love for him. Especially for a boy so full of love for him.
But Yuuji's looking at him like a wounded animal instead. Terrified that if he gets closer, the animal might snap and snarl and tear but ultimately only harm itself more. And that hurts Megumi even more somehow.
Brown eyes blown wide, and face silently pleading, a little crease nicked between his brows. Green eyes still, and silent. As Megumi stands quivering in the doorway he wonders if this is how his father felt when he left for good that day. The same way his son feels, ten years later. Like a stray dog, his tongue a dead bird in his mouth.
He leaves anyway, treading in his father's footsteps as he leaves Yuuji there.
Everything comes barrelling down on him as he knocks on another door, fingers grazing against the wood. Like a slab of concrete dropping right onto his head, Megumi feels everything slam through his entire body, seeping into his feet and soaking the soles of his shoes. It's mostly anger, if he's being honest. Red and burning and unlike any anger he's ever felt before. God, what he wouldn't give for a slap of concrete to take him clean out right now.
There's a soft sadness there too though. A grief that he had already been preparing for but had been caught off guard by anyway. Like waiting for a sick deer to slowly die at the ground of a tree, lying its snout softly in the roots, only to watch a bullet fire straight through the animal's skull anyway. Brains slick against the dirt, eyes glassy and terrified.
Nobara opens the door and Megumi can't get the words out without them sounding wet. "Can I-"
"Yeah," she says quickly, cutting him off and pulling at the front of his shirt. She's always yanking him. His arm and his ear and his hair. Always leading him somewhere, determined and amused as he digs his heels in. Leaning forward in class to tug at the long strands of hair at the back of his neck. Jerking his ear when she thinks he's not paying her attention.
Now, she quickly draws him into her arms, bare foot kicking the door shut behind him. She doesn't try and say anything comforting or snarky or genuine. But she also doesn't comment when he chokes on the stiff air, dropping his face into her neck so neither of them have to acknowledge the wetness of his eyes. She doesn't try and say anything, but one hand comes up to draw meaningless shapes on the pale strip of his neck while the other reaches around his back and tugs him tight against her, fisting the fabric of his shirt in her fingers.
He doesn't know how long they stand there in silence. His neck aches from being curled into her small frame. Nobara's grip on him has lost its intensity, replaced with a foreign gentleness, fingers loosely gripping his shirt and lying idly on his collarbone. "We should sleep," she murmurs, pulling away when Megumi nods wordlessly.
She passes him one of his own shirts that he stole and a pair of her joggers that reach half way of his calves. She slips out of the room to collect his toothbrush for him, lips pressed tightly together in a clear indication that she saw Yuuji on her way. She still doesn't say anything as she flops down onto the mattress. She still doesn't say anything when Megumi hesitates, patting the empty space beside her. Which is considerably small, since the dormitory beds are suitable for one person and one person exclusively.
"You good?" she whispers eventually, when they've tried their best to fit together. She's tucked into the wall, lying on her side, head resting on her arms. Megumi's flat on his back, eyes trained firmly on the paint peeling on her ceiling. There's a few of those sticky stars plastered on the ceiling, and an abundant of stains that clearly says there used to be many more stars up there once.
"Did you do that?" he asks, voice hoarse. He can feel her shake her head from the close proximity, her hair falling softly against his cheek.
"Nah. They were already there when I first got here."
"They're cute."
"Yeah, they are." A pause lies over them, before Nobara murmurs, "Heard a lotta shouting."
"It was mostly me," he admits, chest still heaving from the pain of it all. Nobara slides her hand into his, dropping her head back onto the pillow they're sharing. "Yuuji doesn't shout."
"He'll be okay, Megumi. It'll all be okay in the end." He doesn't respond to that, just tightens his fingers around hers. It won't be okay. Nothing ever really has been. "In the meantime though," she continues, spare hand coming up to soothingly brush Megumi's hair away from his face, tucking it behind his ears. "I'm like for sure on your side. Seriously, as much as I like Ita-chan, this is like a whole new level of crazy shit. And normally I love messy situations but holy fuck," she whistles. "Gojo-sensei is a whole other type of messy."
"Yeah," he says, and it turns into an exhausted yawn. His bones feel weary. He doesn't want to think about Gojo anymore. "Thanks, Kugisaki."
"Don't worry about it," she hums happily, burrowing further under the duvet.
"I broke my door down," he says after a moment. Nobara giggles loudly, rolling over to close the inch between them to awkwardly yank him into another hug.
"God, we're only a couple of months into second year and we're already two doors down!" she snorts. "Well, they're not charging me for the bathroom, that was totally your fault," she adds as she lets go of him.
"I still had five minutes of bathroom time," he replies automatically, in disbelief that that was this very morning. He feels like a completely different person now to then. He wonders if that's ever going to happen. If he's ever just going to feel like himself again.
"Shut up and go to bed Fushiguro," is the last thing Nobara says before she falls asleep, head resting on Megumi's shoulder and drooling all over him as she kicks her limbs across him at various stages of the night. He lies there trying his best to not wake her up, eyes drifting from one star on the ceiling to another to another to another to another to another.
He dreams of Summer. Of warm slides and kicked up grass and Florida.