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"May I show you how it could've been, young Zen'in boy?"
Megumi glanced at the old lady and tried his best to hide his disgust behind the disinterested expression he usually wore.
The woman, who was now gripping his arm tightly, looked scruffy and unkempt. She didn't smell bad or anything, although Megumi wouldn't have been one to judge her for it even if that had been the case, but her hair was a mess of tangled locks and her eyes shone with a fervor he didn't recognize.
She wore beautiful, expensive clothes that were somehow ripped and way too large for her lithe body.
She was utterly confusing and had called him by name, well, by his clan's name, even if Megumi was sure they had never met before. That information alone was enough to make his brain categorize her as "danger". On top of it all, the boy hated being touched by strangers, or even by acquaintances, for the matter.
So, he was all alert and en garde; Yuuji would probably say he resembled a frightened kitten.
The old lady didn't budge, didn't move her hand not even one millimeter, and inquired again. "May I show you?"
Megumi was somehow frozen in place, unable to move. He briefly checked the lady for any trace of cursed energy but was able to find nothing.
"Are you a sorcerer?" Was all he could spit out of his hesitant mouth.
He wasn't sure any answer to that question would make him feel any safer, though. After the accident in Shibuya, he most likely couldn't trust fellow sorcerers anymore. Not with Itadori on the run, not without Gojo sensei.
And non sorcerers shouldn't have anything to do with the matters he was involved with.
The lady smiled and shook her head. "Yes and no. Best if I don't tell you much 'bout it though, it might just confuse you rather than clear things up for ya'. Plus, it'd change nothing even if you knew."
"Please, let go of me. I don't want to harm you." Fushiguro warned the lady, stiff and tense.
She didn't seem worried about that possibility in the slightest, though. On the contrary, she smirked at him as if to challenge his resolve, and then gripped his hand in hers.
It all happened in a flash.
Megumi's head started spinning dangerously, but before he could worry about having been poisoned or attacked by a curse, the woman's voice echoed in his ears.
"Enjoy the travel, young Zen'in pupil."
"Megumi! Oi Megumi!"
Long, dark eyelashes batted quickly and repeatedly, as their owner tried to make sense of what was happening in front of him. Kugisaki Nobara, ever the same bothersome creature, seemed to have been insistedly calling him for a while, if her impatient look was anything to go by.
As Megumi blinked once more and moved his head to scan his surroundings, she exulted. "You're alive, then! Good. Toge-san was about to call an ambulance on your ass."
He furrowed his eyebrows. "An ambulance? Why, what happened?"
An apoletic voice came from right behind him, and Megumi turned around at lightning speed only to find himself in front of Inumaki Toge.
"It's my fault, Megumi. I'm really sorry, I thought you'd seen the ball coming for your head but you were literally just frozen in place for a good five seconds. Are you alright?"
Megumi's brain short-circuited.
He looked at Kugisaki, hoping her face would mirror his own shocked look of utter surprise, but she looked perfectly calm and totally not like she was losing her shit.
He blinked, again, and looked at the white haired boy in front of him.
The cursed speech seals were still present on his cheeks and tongue yet his technique hadn't been activated.
"Inumaki-senpai... You can talk."
Two pairs of eyes looked at Fushiguro like he had just admitted to killing the prime minister.
"Of course I can." Said Inumaki tentatively, before slowly approaching Megumi. "Did i hit your head too hard with the ball? I'm really sorry."
The younger looked completely flabbergasted. "But what about your technique? How can you speak so well now?
"What does my technique have to do with anything? Don't you remember your fathers were the ones who found a solution for the Inumaki clan's speech impediment?" Asked the boy, genuinely confused. "Oi, Yuta! Panda! Do you guys think I gave Megumi a concussion?"
Fushiguro had clearly either heard everything wrong, or gone mad, because the entire situation sounded absurd to his ears.
He had never even known his father. Also, what was up with the plural? And what solution could possibly exist to a cursed technique as old as time?
He turned around and noticed that Okkotsu and Panda senpai, who had been probably training together while the others fooled around with baseball bats, were approaching them too.
Kugisaki chimed in, concern now definitely evident in her voice. "I'll call aunt Ieri, she'll be able to tell what's gotten your head messed up. Or if she can't, Maki-san will probably be able to slap some sense back into it."
Megumi could only sit back and observe in silent wonder as the world he thought he knew surprised him more and more by the minute. As a mute boy spoke, as Shoko Ieri, or 'auntie', as Nobara had squeaked when the older woman arrived, brought him to the infirmary to check his head.
"Shall I call your papa, Megumi-chan?"
Fushiguro looked at her, trying to make sense of her words, to understand just who this 'papa' of his was and why she referred to him with such informal honorifics.
He thought it best to shake his head no and pretend he was alright. In truth, he really wasn't feeling sick; just extremely confused.
When he was dismissed, he reached his classroom, where a very normal english lesson was taking place. He immediately noticed the absence of a certain pink haired boy.
It was just him and Kugisaki, along with their professor whose name he ignored, and the usual sixty minutes of boredom he was used to seemed way longer than he remembered.
The rest of school day flew by at an unexpectedly fast pace. The amount of information he was able to learn during it, though, was too much to assimilate in such a short period of time.
Kugisaki had not stopped going off about his supposed parents, who had turned out to be no other than Gojo sensei, who she said to be out on a mission, and a certain Geto Suguru. A teacher, too. And a sorcerer.
Fushiguro tried to dig in the back of his memories, tried to revoke anything that could help him understand who that man was, but to no avail.
Unfortunately, not even seeing the man helped him clear his doubts. He had no knowledge of the person that had welcomed him home, (a home he had much difficulty getting back to, since he had no memory of it either) with a kind smile.
Geto Suguru was tall, well-built, with long black hair that fell down his shoulders and equally black earrings.
Fushiguro avoided talking to him directly, not knowing how to properly refer to him, and decided to just speak when spoken to.
But his plan quickly proved itself to be flawed, because apparently Geto had a lot to share with him and expected the same from Megumi's part.
They talked quite a lot before Geto announced: "I have to head out to buy a few things for dinner. I'll be back in half an hour."
Fushiguro's face went up in flames when the man kissed his forehead as he left, shutting the entrance door behind him, right in front of the teen.
As soon as he recovered from the shock, he started snooping around.
He learnt, from various clues he found around the house, that Geto was Gojo-sensei's long time friend now turned husband.
The fact that he had never before learnt of him left him confused, and almost offended. But it also made it pretty evident that his first supposition about the current situation had been right: Megumi had ended up in a kind of parallel universe.
His thoughts flashed back to the old lady at the side of the street.
A dull ache followed the realization and started to spread around his body.
Gojo-sensei was married to this person. Both men were his parents.
His cheeks and forehead burnt again as he conjured the lingering touch that had grazed him, and he couldn't help but question if, in this reality, he was used to receiving affection in such blatant ways.
He awaited Geto Suguru's return in silence.
After the man came back, Fushiguro decided to play along with the act. He didn't want to disappoint the person he was currently sharing a house with, the person who had only been kind to him since he'd returned back from school hours ago.
Plus, he thought that time would flow faster if he simply adjusted to the situation and pretended.
So he helped Geto unload the dishwasher, chatted some more with him as they stored the cutlery back in place, listened as the man sang something similar to a lullaby under his breath.
He found himself being able to speak freely for the first time after so long, not even knowing how or why. There just was something about the older male that screamed peace, warmth and safety. And God knows how Fushiguro yearned for those three things.
What he had previously failed to considered, though, was that getting a taste of the forbidden fruit had only left Adam craving for more.
With every fleeting touch, with every act of tender consideration directed towards him, Megumi's bones cried in agony.
Why must he be shown something he could never have?
Something he had so deeply wished for, during countess sleepless nights he'd spent alone in his cold bed.
Why must he be presented with a person who seemed to love him when, in reality, none of those who once had shared that sentiment were left?
His breath caught up in his throat as he pictured Itadori Yuuji's smiling face, waving at him from the distance. Next to him, Kugisaki Nobara shouted something about hurrying up, about catching up to them.
As soon as he blinked, Itadori's face had already changed into one stained with crimson plotches of angry blood, and Kugisaki lay limply on the ground at his feet. Immovable, unnaturally spread out like a broken rag doll.
Fire rained upon the ground, and agonizing screams of anguish, strangely familiar, a man's and a girl's, resounded in the air. No matter where he turned, Megumi only encountered destruction.
A boy without an arm yelled at him to get away, before an entire building collapsed behind him.
A devil with four arms waited for him at the end of the road.
And when salvation was sure to come, evil creeped out from the pits of hell and smothered it, caging it in a small, untouchable box.
A faded voice reached out for him, in the middle of the mist that polluted his brain.
"-Come here, I'll get you some water and then we can sit down and rest. Don't worry, I got you, Megumi."
Geto Suguru, whose dark hair had started to weirdly resemble a halo, personally dragged him back from the abyss.
Fushiguro's heart doubled in size.
Cuddled up beside the older man, Megumi's eyes welled up with tears.
The heat radiating from his body was unlike anything the boy had felt before. Comforting, lulling almost.
Geto smelled of coffe; his fingers, that were carding through dark, blue locks, still reeked faintly of tobacco, and his hair had evidently been washed with Gojo's pungent sandalwood shampoo.
The soft touch was so foreign, Megumi had to wonder if it was just a phantom invention of his imagination, a long gone memory buried in the sand. But Geto's fingers never stopped their circular motions on his scalp, and he was forced to accept the reality of those gentle strokes.
Some TV show was playing in the background, probably a random program that preceded the daily evening news, but the noise sounded faded. Not important.
The ticking of the wall clock was the sole indicator of the passing of time, that otherwise seemed still, frozen in place.
The man started humming a melody, barely audible, as his naked foot lightly tapped the floor carpet, going along with the rhythm.
A violent sob racked Megumi's smaller body.
Black, big eyes lit up with fear as the man's worried gaze turned to look at his boy, his son, whose head was now laying limply on his chest, tucked underneath his shoulder like a baby chick would do with its mother hen.
"Megumi?"
The boy's head sank lower against his side as wimpy arms encircled his waist with a strength that must've been fueled by terror. By desperation.
"What's wrong, Megumi? You're starting to scare me."
But no answer slipped from the younger's lips; instead, his hold tightened around Suguru's middle.
Furrowed eyebrows quickly relaxed, frown disappearing from view. The man sighed deeply and went back to caressing his child's hair, gently yet persistently.
"It's alright, it's alright. You tell me when you're ready."
He felt Megumi nod, while his cries turned into pained whimpers, which, in turn, eventually faded into labored breaths.
"There, is it better now?"
Another nod. Suguru's hand never abandoned the boy.
"Do you feel like telling me about it, little one?"
"I-I don't wanna go." Confusion was all he saw on Geto's face, once Megumi finally managed to look at him as he spoke his trembling words.
"Go where? I don't recall you having to be somewhere you do not wish to be. Is somebody forcing you to do something, Megumi? Are you being blackmailed?"
Fushiguro shook his head, then tried, and failed, to express himself in a way that could be easier to understand.
"No, no I'm not. I don't want you to go."
"Go where?"
"Away." He whispered.
Suguru tilted his head to the side, completely lost and trying to make sense of his son's gibberish.
"I'm not going away, you know. This is my house, where I live with my family. Why should I leave?" He tried to sound reassuring even as his mind was filled with confusion.
Family. What a strange word it was. Fushiguro couldn't recall having ever had such a thing. Sure, there had been Tsumiki, who was always kind and sweet and had raised him like an older sister would. And there was the blurry silhouette of his mother, in the back of his mind, and the unusual name his father had given him.
But now Tsumiki was bed-bound and cursed, the woman he so resembled was gone with the wind and his name, much more fit for a girl, was the sole remainder of the man who had abandoned him to fate.
Megumi didn't hate his father, he never had. But he had never loved him either, had never really gotten the chance to do so.
Yet, the man in front of him had just referred to him as a part of his "family".
He thought of the old lady, of how she said she'd show him how "it could've been" and, yet again, hot tears ran down his cheek like they were gushing out a hole in a dam.
Rough hands moved quickly to cup the boy's cheeks, while Geto whispered comforting and gentle words, dripping with honey, just like his voice. "Oh my big baby. Are you back to being a brat now? Come here."
Megumi should've probably, or most definitely, felt ashamed for being coddled like a helpless toddler, but he couldn't find the strength to do so.
Instead, he decided to lay still as the older male held him in his arms, relishing the warmth he rarely ever received back in his 'reality'.
Suguru kept the boy on his lap, just like he used to when, as a child, he woke up in the middle of the night due to his frequent nightmares, and hugged him to his chest like he hadn't in a long, long time. After all, Megumi had never been the most affectionate teenager.
"This brings back memories, doesn't it? Back in the days, when you were no taller than the kitchen counter, you loved staying like this. You sneaky little urchin. Are you sure this isn't just a way to cuddle with your old man without being embarrassed about it?"
The dark haired boy let out a soft huff, something akin to a chuckle, and Geto knew he was on the right track.
So he teased again. "My independent, stoic kid is just a big softie at heart, isn't he? My blessing."
Megumi felt his face burn, like someone had coated it in gasoline and lit it up with a match.
Still he couldn't help but enjoy the attention, the affection. Who had ever referred to him with such kind words? No one had called him their kid before, their child. The redness spread all the way to the tip of his ears.
But the ache returned, duller and stronger than before, because those words were not meant for him to hear. Those words were meant for another world, for a better place where he didn't have to live by himself, all alone in a school's dormitory. A place where someone cooked him homemade breakfast and dinner, where his bruises got cleaned by gentle hands and where his hair got caressed absentmindedly in front of boring TV shows.
In that place he had ended up in by pure casualty, he was no stranger to touch. To affection. In that world, the person he most looked up to was used to being called "dad", and the wonderful man that was sitting by his side right now was apparently "papa".
Thankfully, even as those thoughts poisoned his brain, Fushiguro seemed to have run out of tears to shed. So he resorted to just staring at the older, taking in every detail of his face in order not to forget any.
"Do you feel better now?" Geto awaited confirmation before he continued. "Care to tell me what got you in tears? As I said, I'm more than happy to receive affection from the ungrateful rascal I raised, but I'm pretty sure that it wasn't extreme gratitude towards your amazing parent that turned you into a snotty mess. Am I wrong?"
The blush came back at full force and Fushiguro stumbled on his words.
"I'm sorry." was all he managed to come up with. "I didn't mean to worry you."
Geto sighed and, with a swift flick of his wrist, removed his wild hair strands from his eyes. "Don't apologize for your feelings, that's not what I want to hear. Besides, worrying about you is my responsibility, so don't apologize for that either. Rather, tell me what you meant when you said you didn't want me to 'go away'."
Megumi's head hung low as he spoke.
"Away from me. I don't wanna be without you anymore." The last part, he whispered as silently as humanly possible. He couldn't be sure if the other heard it or not.
"Megumi, look at me." Authoritarian yet always kind. Safe.
Fushiguro obeyed. Blue eyes met charcoal ones. "I would never willingly part from you. You are my and Satoru's son, even if you do not share our blood. And one thing you can be sure about is that I won't abandon the boy I raised since the tender age of five."
At that moment, Geto's phone lit up and buzzed to life. A familiar name paired with a foreign number appeared on the screen. It read: Fushiguro Tsumiki.
Apparently, Suguru noticed the spark in the boy's eyes and handed him the small device.
A bunch of minutes later, when the call got ended by the girl, the phone ended back in Geto's hands.
The teen was quite confused by the relationship between the man in front of him and his step-sister, but by what he'd heard, she'd seemed happy, at complete ease and familiar with the situation, as she didn't question why he'd been the one who answered the phone instead of its rightful owner.
He'd also heard numerous people shout in the background, in a language that reminded him of english, as loud pop music was blasted in the distance. Tsumiki was probably attending a party, or some sort of celebration, wherever she was. After checking up on Megumi, asking how Geto was and reminding him to behave, she had promised to call again tomorrow.
Her voice, albeit modified by the device, had never sounded so lively and peaceful.
Megumi's heart clenched painfully.
Not only was this life of his full of love and joy, his sister's seemed to be too.
And Kugisaki's, Maki-senpai's, Inumaki-senpai's. Itadori's, as he would probably never have anything to do with the sorcerer world and therefore be always safe.
Cheerful smiles and carefree laughter filled his senses.
(Although, he egoistically couldn't be happy about that last one. About how Yuuji's absence weighted heavy on his chest).
Somewhere along the lines of his wild thought process, Geto had begun speaking again. Something about college in a foreign country, a very sweet girl and going back to the previous discourse.
"... You see, everything is okay. We're all alright, I won't leave."
Fushiguro stubbornly managed to freeze his recalcitrant brain, closed his eyes and wished he could rest forever in the older man's arms.
"So don't cry anymore, alright? There's nothing to be afraid of." Geto finished, and held him tight.
Megumi felt like he had a thousand words to say, yet none he was actually able to let out. So he remained quiet, curled up in a ball on an oddly comfortable couch as the news channel came alive with a noise that could only indicate the beginning of the evening's news program.
The two males shared the pleasant silence that filled the room, neither daring to break it.
Time passed, silent and relentless, as indicated by the white wall clock and its ticking. Fushiguro's heart sank lower in his ribs. There was no telling when the dream would end; it could finish in a few moments or last another mere hour, or another day. How long had he been away from his reality? Where was his body? He found himself not really caring for the answers to those questions. All his mind wanted was for him to rest. To stay on that couch, warm and safe, and to never have to leave.
"Megumi." Geto murmured after dozens of minutes of quietude.
The boy tried to keep his voice steady and replied: "Yes?"
"I know it's not you."
Blood froze in his veins. The boy slowly lowered his gaze to the ground, trying not to move any of his tense muscles.
Terror clouded his mind.
He was going to be sent away now; he had been discovered.
But Geto never moved away, never stopped speaking to him in his kind tone. "There's no reason to be afraid, I won't do anything to you. I just want to understand what's going on."
He held Megumi tighter against his chest. "Will you explain it to me?"
Fushiguro couldn't say no.
"I'm sorry. I don't know how I came here. I didn't want to lie to you, to pretend to be someone I'm not. The truth is that I really, really have no idea how any of this happened." The dark haired man didn't interrupt him, so Megumi continued. "I was just walking - ... Walking down the street when a woman approached me-"
"What kind of woman?" Suguru tried his best not to sound too inquisitive. It probably worked, given the fact that the boy's stance and expression didn't change in the slightest.
"She was young yet old in a way I can't explain. Wore weird clothes, and had these soulless eyes... I didn't understand who- what she was, but then she suddenly took my hand and I ended up here."
Megumi didn't know what he expected to happen after his revelation, but every possible reaction his brain tried to fathom turned out to be so, so far away from the truth.
Geto took the boy's face in his hands, so softly Megumi felt like a Sinner asking a Saint for forgiveness.
"You had a Regulator sent to you. A special kind of curse user dispatched when needed." Was the explanation the older gave. "They are to help sorcerers who are in... Let's say, a dark place. Their techniques are well fitted for such tasks."
Fushiguro nodded, heart in his throat.
"Megumi." Geto called again.
"Yes?" He whispered.
"I'm so sorry, I'm sorry, little one." Suguru's voice betrayed him and cracked, right in the middle of the sentence. "If you've been sent here, it means I've failed to protect you in your world. Please, please forgive me for this."
"No... No, you didn't -" the teen stumbled on his words, unable to regain control of his stunned mind.
"Don't try to justify me. If I didn't do right by you, if I haven't been able to raise you, to stand next to you, to keep you safe, I apologize.
A dark mass of hair swayed wildy as Megumi stubbornly shook his head.
"It's alright, it's not your fault." Why was he defending this man he had just barely met, Fushiguro didn't know.
"Megumi."
"... Yes?"
The hands on his cheeks tightened their hold, probably resulting in him looking a bit squished. He wondered just how stupid he seemed to Geto's eyes, but when he met the man's gaze all he could see was hurt, regret. Love.
"Listen to me well." The teen nodded, as if he wasn't already hanging on the man's lips.
"You are my blessing. You've been given to me, to us, by fate. The mere thought of having to live in a world where you're not my son nauseates me. But if that's the case for you." Suguru paused. Took in the sadness he wasn't used to seeing on his Megumi's face. His heart cracked.
"If that's the case for you... I want you to remember this encounter for the rest of your life. You're so loved, so loved. Even if you can't feel it, even if I myself can't be with you on that other side, know that I'll keep you in my mind all the time. You'll never be alone, okay? You must remember. If you can't find the strength to go on, if life threatens to tear you apart, you must know that I believe in you. My boy is strong, he's brave and he's kind.
He's not a hero, but he saves people."
Megumi gulped in a desperate attempt to swallow the knot that had formed in his throat. He failed.
"So don't cry anymore. Please. I won't abandon you, ever. Because you're a piece of me as much as I'm a piece of you.
It was mirrored in your actions today, in every little thing you did, and I see it in your words. I don't know what has happened in your life, but when I look at you I see the kid I raised. Just sadder. With a heavier weight on his shoulders, a weight I wish I could help you bear." Suguru finished and let go of the boy's face to clear his throat, a tad awkwardly.
Megumi sat in silence.
Geto's voice rose up again. "Wait for me here, I'll go get you something."
Before Fushiguro could nod in affirmation, the man had already disappeared.
Light steps against the tatami floor a clear indication of his movements.
Suguru came back with a chainlet and a small, black item.
He sat back down in front of Megumi and handed him the necklace. Then opened what turned out to be a ring box and revealed two extremely thin silver bands.
"Here." With light hands he removed the rings from their container and slipped them both into the unclasped chain.
Fushiguro staggered: "I can't take it, aren't those... Aren't those wedding rings?"
Geto didn't look like he'd take no for an answer. In fact, he gestured for Megumi to lean towards him without listening to the teenager's complaints.
"They are. But Satoru doesn't wear his very often and neither do I. You should keep them."
The fine strip of metal ran cold against Megumi's pale skin and the weight of its, admittedly rather original, pendant rested light on his chest.
"Thank you."
Suguru was the one to shake his head this time. Still, he smiled, and Fushiguro felt compelled to do the same.
The silence fell back upon them, at least until Megumi's stomach decided to come alive, grumbling like a bear on the first day of spring. His ears turned crimson red as Geto started howling with laughter.
He must've had failed to consider that, to have willingly married Gojo sensei, the black haired man had had to be a whole different breed of annoying.
He mentally started rethinking the whole parents thing, but a shy, embarrassed smile betrayed his true feelings. Fondness, awkward shame, unadulterated joy at having someone to joke with. Yearning.
Geto kept nagging him about it for the next half hour, while Megumi trailed after him in the kitchen, handing him the ingredients that the man needed for his chosen recipe.
"Do you still dislike red peppers, Megumi?"
The boy nodded, taking a bite of the freshly peeled carrot Geto had just offered him.
"Yeah." He said in between mouthfuls, which made the man giggle and say: "Not even different realities can make you appreciate red peppers. Damn."
Megumi pouted, carrot still in hand. "They're nasty."
Suguru didn't reply but kept smiling teasingly as he went back to cutting other vegetables.
He and Megumi chatted idly as the dinner preparations proceeded, slowly but surely. The sun had already set completely when Geto, who was now placing meat in a frying pan, sighed and announced: "Here comes the nuisance."
Fushiguro didn't even have time to turn around before hearing Gojo's voice echo in the genkan. "Good evening, family!"
"Welcome back, Satoru. How did your mission go?"
Tall, lean legs marched straight into the kitchen while their owner rid himself of the bandage that usually covered his portentous eyes.
Right, thought Megumi, there was no need to keep it on at home. His heart did a flip.
Gojo's lips met his husband's in a chaste kiss, that, albeit quick, still disgusted the teen to no end.
He supposed having parents really did come with all kinds of disadvantages.
Meanwhile, the conversation kept on going. "Boring, as usual. I couldn't wait to come back home."
Suddenly, Fushiguro felt a hand ruffle his hair. Gojo Satoru was smiling down at him with a fondness he was not used to witnessing. He gulped.
But the white haired man obviously had to be annoying and ruin the then peaceful atmosphere by running his loud mouth. "Aaah would you look at this, I can't believe I got to see my son and my wifey cooking together, preparing dinner for me. What did I ever do to deserve this?"
Megumi felt his eye twitch. Gojo was already a handful as a teacher, he couldn't imagine how much worse he'd be as an actual father. Or as a husband.
He shivered at the thought, but when he turned around to check Geto's reaction, expecting to see him fuming with rage at those provocative taunts, he noticed that the man didn't look bothered in the slightest.
"Very funny, Satoru. Go wash your hands."
And Gojo did, coming back mere minutes later to ask how long it would take until dinner was served. Geto kissed his cheek, smacked him on the head and told him to go set the table. Which, again, the white haired man did without further protest.
Fushiguro was amazed. There really existed someone who could handle his teacher, now turned father, and his exasperating ways.
Satoru's voice echoed from the dining room. "What are you making Suguru?"
"Pork Shogayaki."
Megumi's brows furrowed. He tried to recall the dish's flavour but nothing came to mind. He came to the conclusion that he'd therefore never tried it, or, if he had, that he hadn't enjoyed it enough to remember its taste.
The aroma that was starting to expand into the air suggested the contrary, though.
And Gojo said: "You're making the brat's favourite? I smell partiality, blatant bias, even."
Fushiguro's blue eyes tried to meet Geto's, but the man was busy slicing the meat. Had he removed his gaze from the pork loins, he would've witnessed the absolute look of awe painted on the boy's face.
Because, for the first time in his brief life, someone cared enough about him to remember his likes and dislikes, and to bother preparing them from scratch.
Suguru laughed, a bit snarkily.
"Shut up, you're not sixteen, you can cook for yourself. Also, I'm making stir fried vegetables just for you, ungrateful prick."
Gojo kept complaining, Geto kept ignoring him.
Megumi's heart had by then sunk to the bottom of his guts.
Soon enough, dinner was ready and the three of them were sat around a beautiful chabudai, a short legged traditional table, ready to enjoy the last meal of the day together.
Small talk filled the cozy room, along with the delicious smell of ginger, scallions and perfectly cooked chicken.
Fushiguro risked choking on his rice more than once, as, now and then, his throat tightened painfully, vision becoming blurry with a watery coat of unshed tears.
He refused to let them run down his cheeks, refused to look pathetic in front of Gojo, of all people, and to turn into a snotty toddler under Geto's watchful eyes.
So he pushed everything back: the tears, the ache, the terror, and instead decided to focus on the food in his plate.
Between mouthfuls, servings of slightly burnt bites of cabbage and wonderfully seasoned bean sprouts, idle chat, light kicks from under the table and the background noise of the wall clock, Megumi decided that, yes, Pork Shogayaki was indeed his favourite food.
The meat paired perfectly with the ginger, wasn't too chewy nor too tough, and its taste was complemented by the simplicity of plain white rice.
He didn't think anything he'd eat in the future would ever hold a candle to it.
He made sure to let Geto know after every last plate had been washed and placed back into the cupboard, as Gojo showered upstairs.
Suguru smiled, sweet, so sweet, and ruffled his hair. Megumi hated and loved it at the same time.
The man said: "I want you to think back on this day and only remember the good stuff. The smell and taste of home."
The dark haired boy gulped, hands shaking ever so slightly.
"What do I - what do I regularly call you?" He asked, just for confirmation. Just to really hear it.
"Papa."
The word rang in his ears like the shrill of a fire alarm, echoing in his skull, from frontal lobes to cerebellum.
Embarrassment. Envy. Hesitancy. All made their way through his chest and nestled in his ribs.
Fushiguro stuttered: "That's very childish." To which the other male just shrugged.
"I guess it is. You've always had to differentiate between me and Satoru, though, and that is actually what you called me as a kid. It just probably stuck to you and none of us ever found it weird."
The boy nodded, tongue-tied.
Geto laughed for the nth time that day. It felt rather refreshing, strangely calming.
"You know," He began. "Satoru was super jealous of that name back when you first started living with us. We were both young, equally dumb and irresponsible but, for some reason, you seemed to trust me way more than you did him. Always called for me whenever you needed something, rarely ever let Satoru touch you or approach you."
"Oh." That information surprised Fushiguro to say the least.
"Yeah. He was pissed, I tell you. He started spoiling you rotten to try to gain your favour, but no could do. Still prefered me. You wanted me to bring you everywhere I went, never let go of my hand in crowded places. Shoko said it was because of the long hair, because you 'must've mistaken me for a mom'. I think it made Satoru feel a little bit better."
Megumi smiled, albeit still a bit awkwardly. "It did?" To which the older nodded.
"Oh yes. But then he had this weird phase where he decided he'd grow his hair out. You were seven by then. Once he realized your attitude towards him wasn't changing at all he trimmed it for good."
A giggle. Suguru's eyes lit up.
He continued. "But then, as you grew up and we did too, he became your hero. By the age of ten you drew him with a cape and a fancy suit and told your fifth grade teacher "my dad is like Batman, but without the cool car". Obviously, he immediately bought a black Porsche as soon as he heard the story, even if we were still trying to pay back the mortgage of this house."
Megumi's eyes grew comically wide. "How come? Isn't Gojo's family loaded?"
"It is. But it's also full of bastards." Geto shrugged, although his expression betrayed poorly concealed traces of vestigial anger. "They completely cut him out of the clan's funds when he refused to give you back to the Zen'in. They said he was a disgrace for living with a man and a 'stolen orphan', and decided to try and tame him by having him starve. Luckily, your father - sorry, Satoru-"
Megumi interrupted him with a feather light touch on his arm, shook his head and spoke firmly. "It's okay."
"Right." Geto cleared his throat. "He was never one to give up easily. The first years of independence were objectively horrible for him; he'd always been his clan's pride and joy, being an outcast wasn't in his plans. I myself have never had such problems, my parents are non-sorcerers. Thinking back on it, life was way easier on me, all things considered, that's most likely why you relied on me for everything. I must've looked like the one who had it all under control." Suguru sighed, fond smile still present on his lips.
"My parents and principal Yaga financially supported us while we finished high school. Then we started working on our own, and Satoru changed into a completely different person. I'd always been the more mature one, but he became a man first. He rose into the jujutsu ranks with the speed of a shooting star, learnt to be a parent, learnt to be a partner..."
While they talked, the two headed back to the living room. Megumi sat down on the couch once again, close to Geto, once again, as he listened closely to the tale, so familiar yet foreign.
"That's when you and him finally hit it off. Even as a kid you were extremely perceptive, you recognized his struggles, to the limits of your capabilities, and acknowledged his efforts. He quickly became a role model, and, at last, earned the title of 'dad'. Ain't that cool, Megumi? You played pretty hard to get." A hint of playful mirth pervaded that last part.
Fushiguro blushed, remembering how Kugisaki often called him a tsundere or something along the lines of that.
He couldn't help but wanting to know more, though, despite the good-natured mortification he felt. "Did you legally adopt me?"
"Yes." Geto held up his fingers to count something. "We did, exactly three years ago. Pretty late I know, but human burocracy work isn't kind on shamans. To be honest, I didn't initially want to, but Satoru insisted. Said the state had to know you were our son. Tsumiki agreed with him too, and that sealed the deal."
The teen's ears perked up at the mention of her name, memories of the phone call from mere hours ago resurfacing.
"Is she still my sister? Even in this world? Even if she's not your daughter?" He asked, strangely not fearing the answer. He knew labels meant nothing, and by the easy way their previous brief conversation had flowed, he could tell nothing had changed between them.
Even if Tsumiki wasn't part of his legal family, her role in his life would never change.
"Yes. After your father and her mother's deaths she was raised by her other relatives, her aunt, uncle and grandma to be exact. You guys still kept in contact though, we sent you to the same schools and regularly had you meet up. It was evidently important to you, so Satoru and I did our best to make sure you spent enough time together. She's attending college abroad now, in the States."
Megumi couldn't believe his ears. He cursed God for being so unfair, for not letting Tsumiki achieve her happiness back in his reality. For making everybody miserable and lonely. For taking Geto Suguru away from him.
"No negative thoughts." As if he'd read his mind, Geto chided him. "My boy shall shed no more tears. This is supposed to be a healing experience after all. Say, Megumi, do you feel healed?"
Suguru's tone was clearly playful, yet Fushiguro answered with honesty. "I do, but it hurts."
His revelation was met with disarming tenderness, yet again. "Come here. I'll try to take your pain away."
Cuddled up beside the older man, Megumi came to know peace.
Minutes and later hours passed slowly but surely; Gojo had joined them on the couch, demanding they moved to make some space for his ginormous self ("you're long rather than big, lanky like a lamppost", Geto had teased before obviously complying), a sci-fi movie had begun and ended, leaving space for a romantic comedy no one wanted to watch, the wall clock had never stopped ticking.
"It's getting late, we should head to bed, Megumi has to go to school tomorrow." Said Geto, glancing at his watch.
But Gojo stopped him, gently grabbing his wrist and pulling him back down next to them. Blue and onyx eyes needed no words to understand each other.
Just let him have this, there's no need to pretend now.
Suguru returned to his original position, sat to his son's right, with his husband's hand on his thigh, bare feet intertwined with two other pairs. The lively chat died down and, soon, the only noises that could be heard were Geto's soft humming and the wall clock's singing.
And that was how Megumi slowly drifted off, held by two couples of arms, on a soft couch, safe and warm in the dead of night.
He heard someone whisper something in his ears. A goodnight wish, probably. He tried replying, but didn't know whether his voice managed to reach its recipients.
"Dad, Papa. Sleep well."
The clock ticked one last time, and then faded, along with the low humming of an unnamed song and the lingering smell of homemade dinner and sandalwood shampoo.
Suguru and Satoru didn't move from the couch, even after their backs started dully aching and their limbs tingled with pins and needles.
Even after the space between them was left empty. They didn't move to fill it.
"You gave him your ring.
You loved that ring, you barely ever went out without it and now you handed it off to our brat, just like that." Gojo teased, only half jokingly.
Geto smiled. "I'd rip my heart out for him with bare hands; it wounds me you think I wouldn't give up on a small jewel for his sake."
"I never said that, though. And I know you would." A brief pause. "I would too."
"I know." Geto hummed, laying his head on his husband's shoulder. Just like Megumi had done to him mere hours ago.
Gojo yawned. Then asked: "Do you think he's going to be alright out there?"
"I hope so. I would hate having to find a way to travel through multiple universes just to go get him outta trouble. That'd be very inconvenient."
The white haired shaman giggled. Suguru closed his eyes and breathed in the smell of his, lavender scented, clean clothes.
"Yeah, you're right. But you would - a hundred percent - find a way to do that. Such a mother hen you are."
Geto's smile never faded from his face. "I can't deny that."
"Of course you can't." Satoru planted a kiss on his head, so sweet it almost gave him cavities.
Suguru tucked his cold feet underneath the other's crossed legs and very much enjoyed the hiss Gojo subconsciously released. Then he said: "You should definitely buy me another ring now, though, since you're so worried about the state of the other one."
And Satoru laughed.
The lady was still grasping his hand and forearm, still as unreadable and enigmatic. Still on the side of the busy road.
She smiled. Megumi blinked twice, thrice and understood that, yes, he was back.
And as much as he wasn't ready for it, as much as he wished he never had to return home, he found a weird emotion dancing wildly in his chest. Erratic, impatient.
Pink hair, brown strands, familiar faces and, finally, a purpose flooded his brain.
He had friends that needed him, people to help.
He batted his eyelids once more and noticed that the woman had already disappeared. With no time to waste, Megumi started walking in the opposite direction he had come from.
He had so much he had lost, yet so much more he couldn't bear to lose.
The silver necklace around his neck sang with glee as he ran, rings clanking one against the other, getting separated by the rebound caused by each of their collisions, yet still always finding their way back to each other in the middle.
He had so much to do. So many loved ones to embrace, so many to protect.
So much Shogayaki to still eat.
A promise to remember.
He had a father to thank for his name, blessing, that he'd just started to appreciate, and a forgotten mother who he could still see in his reflection.
And then again, a father, with dark long hair and soft hands to keep in his heart and mind at all times, whose phantom love would never leave his side.
And, most importantly right now, a father to get out of a box.
So Megumi ran.