Chapter Text
“Goddamit Izumi; if I’m getting so goddamn old, then why don’t you damn well leave then!”
The voice of an enraged Jujutsu Sorcerer pierced through the thin fusuma walls; the flimsy nature of the paper doing nothing to muffle his anger, nor his wife’s tears as they fought like cats and dogs in the silent halls of their small condo on the grounds of Tokyo Jujutsu High.
“Maybe I will! It’s better than waiting here worried half sick because one day you might not come back home!”
Izumi countered her husband’s rage with equal scorn and disdain, not afraid to call his bluffs and meet his threats head-on; the stubborn nature that he’d once fallen in love with now being used as a weapon against him.
“I’m a Sorcerer; Izumi! What the hell did you expect-?!”
His voice raised tenfold both in spite and volume; the sound of ceramic shattering cutting through the air like a gunshot as he took out his anger on one of the many knickknacks he’d brought home from his business trips.
“I expected you to give a damn; Masami! If not for me, then for your daughter!”
She retorted, not frightened in the slightest by his sudden outburst, long numbed to the man’s rage after 5 years of marriage.
“I do give a damn-!”
He replied, not willing to let the woman write off all the time and hard work he’d put in to provide for his family; to protect them.
“Then prove it; Masamichi!”
She spat, having heard enough of his excuses by now; their arguments revisiting the same ground over and over and getting nowhere.
“Prove it; or next time, don’t bother coming home.”
Her voice lowered; her tears smothering the flames of her anger, before the house shook on the sound of a door slam, the thunder of Masamichi’s footsteps following close behind as he hounded her through the thick wood of the bathroom door.
“Maybe I won’t, Izumi! Would that make you happy?! Huh?! Would it-?!”
He retaliated, yelling through door as he pounded on the wood, entirely unaware that they were no longer alone; a small figure having emerged from the closest bedroom, the dim light of the hallway illuminating the diminutive form of their 4 year old daughter in the doorway.
“Daddy..?”
She called out; one small chubby hand still clinging to the wooden frame of the sliding door, the other wrapped around the foot of a stuffed panda toy she refused to sleep without.
“Why is Mommy crying..?”
She asked; her voice sweet and soft as she stared up at him with eyes wide enough to swallow him whole, the love and concern held within unmatchable even for adults ten times her senior.
He hadn’t meant to wake her; the intensity of their arguments growing more and more out of control as of late.
He knew Izumi was never going to approve of his field work, but did she really have to drag the kid into this?!
“Daddy; is Mommy mad..?”
His only child continued to ask; all traces of any anger he had left melting further away the longer she spoke, the precious little thing completely unaware of the hold she had over his heart.
“No… She’s just tired…”
He lied not for the first time, crouching down to her height so he could take off his sunglasses and look her in the eye; her own deep green irises a mirror image of her mother’s, minus that simmering sense of resentment that seemed to grow in Izumi’s over the past couple of years.
“Will she be okay..?”
The girl asked; a frown pulling down on her chubby cheeks as she rubbed at her eyes; the sleep still not quite dislodged from her hazy mind.
“I’m sure she’ll be fine once she’s got some rest.”
He reassured her, ruffling her dark hair with one large calloused hand, determined for the one thing that brought him joy in life not to be sullied by the bitterness and isolation that Jujutsu Sorcery had seemed to have left a shadow upon.
“Why don’t we get you back into bed yourself so you can get some rest too; hmn?”
He asked, already back on his feet and reaching out to take her tiny hand in his own, leading her back into her room with minimal fuss and fanfare.
“But… I’m not tired…”
She muttered; the presence of a yawn betraying any illusions of her apparent alertness as he led her over to her raised futon; the mattress near hidden beneath an endless mountain of soft toys piled high above.
“Mhmmm…”
He hummed, unconvinced by his child’s protest as he scooped her up into bed; the girl not putting up much of a fight as she settled against the mattress, her eyes already struggling to stay open against the welcoming embrace of sleep.
“Somehow; I find that hard to believe…”
He replied, pulling up her bedcovers to tuck her in; the girl looking practically smothered beneath the ridiculous amount of stuffed toys surrounding her.
“But what about Mom..?”
She asked groggily; her mind still not put at ease despite his best efforts, those big green eyes still drilling into his own with a questing sense of urgency.
“Your mom will be fine…”
He insisted, leaning in to push the avalanche of toys out the way so he could plant a kiss on top of her head; fingers lingering as he stroked her glossy black hair once more.
“Now, please get some sleep…”
He asked of her, knowing better than just to demand it as he got back up off his aching knees; his joints not quite what they used to be anymore.
Izumi had been right about one thing right.
He was getting old; his body failing him before his spirit did as the years of fierce combat and Jujutsu overuse already began to catch up with him despite only being in his thirties.
He couldn’t guarantee that one day he might not come home to them.
Whether through Curses or some other Curse User, Masamichi’s luck would eventually run out and prove his wife right after all.
“Daddy…”
That small voice called out to him once more, stopping him in his tracks.
“Yes, baby..?”
He replied, pausing at her door to listen, expecting another half-hearted attempt to stay up longer, or the usual request of a glass of water.
“I love you.”
She said; the sincerity in her high pitched voice breaking his heart in two entirely; that small girl more dangerous to him than any Cursed Technique.
“I love you too…”
He replied, squeezing the door frame beneath his fingers in a grip hard enough to dent the wood, pulling on his glasses once more to hide the tears on his eyes.
“Mika-chan…”
He muttered her name; finally managing to step out of the girl’s room without a second look back, entirely unaware of how many times he’d regret that in the years to come.
————————————————————
21 years later
“Yaga-Sensei; I thank you for accompanying me for this mission, but I’m pretty sure I’d be capable of securing the Cursed Object myself-“
Objected the young Fushiguro boy; one long slender hand lifting to sweep the bangs off his forehead, his graceful confidence reminding her far too much of an old friend long since passed.
Yet despite his pride and his skill, Megumi was still a child and her responsibility; she wouldn’t be reckless enough to let him do this alone.
“The fingers of Sukuna are no simple artefact Megumi-Kun, and I am still your teacher…”
She told him, secretly proud of how far the Zenin heir had come all these years, though she still had her reservations on letting him take on missions without backup.
He was still a Grade 2, and no matter what Saturo-Chan believed; the kid wasn’t ready to shoulder the responsibilities that came with being a full Jujutsu Sorcerer.
“But Yaga-Sensei; Sensei Gojo already said I’m capable enough for a Grade 1 exorcism-“
The boy complained; and once more she found herself cursing the name Saturo Gojo, the ambition of the man nearly deadly when it rubbed off on their young susceptible students.
“Well; Gojo-Sensei is not here, and whilst you’re under my watch, you’ll be following my orders…”
She said; not leaving him any room to argue this time as they stomped through the marshy grounds of Susuwa High; the night’s rain having sunk into the turf and turned the grass spongy beneath their feet.
“Yes; Yaga-Sensei…”
The boy sighed as he traipsed ahead in a sullen silence, resigning himself to the role of reluctant student despite his grand designs of being something bigger.
“And Megumi…”
She called out to the boy, deciding to drop the honourifics considering their shared history went long past teacher and student.
“Call me Mikasama…”
She told the boy, granting him permission to use her first name, at least away from classes.
“Yaga-Sensei is my father.”
She added, managing to quirk a little smile at the corner of the kid’s mouth, Megumi-Kun not quite as serious as he tried to portray to the outside world.