Chapter Text
Chapter 1
Tokyo – 2017
A finger was poking his cheek. It poked again and again until he lifted the comforter and pulled it over his head, hiding from the insistent finger. Of course that wasn’t enough to stop it, and that finger turned into a hand that shook his shoulder.
“Wake up,” the high-pitched but serious voice said, continuing its determined shaking, set on ruining Gojo Satoru’s sleep. “I’m going to be late.”
Gojo peeled the covers away from his head, huffing as if it took great effort and looked up at the serious face staring down at him. The child was frowning, his dark blue eyes staring at Gojo, his black hair brushed out in its normal wild style– so much like Gojo’s own. The child was dressed in his school uniform and now, seeing Gojo was awake, he placed his hands on his hips, waiting.
“I don’t know, Megumi, I don’t feel so good,” Gojo faked a few coughs for good measure. Megumi didn’t seem convinced, his frown deepening. Always such a serious child that one.
Gojo’s hand snaked out to grab onto Megumi’s little body, tugging him into the bed before tucking them under the covers together.
Megumi tried to wriggle away, “you’re gonna wrinkle my uniform!” he sternly whined as Gojo dragged him closer, hugging him tight and smelling that distinctly baby smell that only kids 6 and under could have.
“I think I’m sick. We should just stay home today and watch movies all day long.” Megumi stopped his struggle to look seriously at Gojo, tilting his head slightly as if to weigh the truth of his words. He must have deemed it worth investigating because in the next moment, he lifted his little hand and placed it on Gojo’s forehead. His brows furrowed as he thought, and Gojo had to fight the silly grin that threatened to come out. Instead, he pursed his lips and pretended to be as serious as his son.
After a second, Megumi let out an exasperated breath that sounded way too exhausted for a 6-year-old, and said “You’re not sick, get up .” And to emphasize his point, Megumi crawled out from under the comforter and pulled it back to uncover Gojo. Next, Megumi walked over to the blackout curtains and pulled them back to let the sunlight in.
“So bright!” Gojo exclaimed, squinting his eyes at the sudden influx of light, trying to gain some sympathy from Megumi, but he simply walked out the bedroom door. Left with no choice, Gojo dragged his body out of bed and walked to his closet to pick out his suit for the day.
He applied his skincare, brushed his hair, got dressed, put his rectangular sunglasses on, put two scent patches over his glands, and pulled the entire look together with a spritz of cologne (which acted as an anti-pheromone measure).
After he was ready and dressed, Gojo walked out of his bedroom, down the hall, and into the large kitchen. Megumi was sitting at the island on a hightop, waiting for Gojo, his backpack on the floor by the legs of the chair. Gojo strode over to the fridge and put Megumi’s breakfast together. He waited until Megumi started eating before he strode over and made himself a sweetened coffee, taking his daily suppressants with his first gulp.
The two pills were large and coated his tongue in a bitter taste before he was able to wash the flavor away. But no matter how much his face grimaced as he took his supplements each and every morning, as he had been since he first presented at 14, Gojo couldn’t bring himself to ever skip a day.
It was only the combo of his suppressants, cologne, and scent patches– a rigorous routine– that let him live the life he had.
“I should be able to finish early today so I may be able to pick you up from school, Megumi.”
“Really?” Megumi pushed his finished plates toward Gojo, who rinsed and placed it in the sink.
“Yup,” Gojo walked towards the entrance, kneeling down to put his shoes on.
When Megumi sat on the floor to put his own, Gojo reached over to tie the laces but Megumi pulled his feet back and spun out of Gojo’s reach.
“I can do it.”
Gojo watched as Megumi struggled but eventually succeeded in tying his shoe. He was so serious, so good at faking that he was a grown-up that it tugged on Gojo’s heart. Leaving Megumi to his own devices, Gojo put his jacket on, grabbed his keys and briefcase and stood at the elevator, waiting for his son to follow.
As he did every morning, Gojo sniffed his son to ensure that their morning snuggles hadn’t resulted in Megumi smelling like an Omega himself. A few pheromones were fine, they could pin that on a nanny. But there was a limit to people’s understandings. There was always a limit.
But as always, Megumi smelled more like his baby self than anything. Gojo fought the urge to bury his nose in that wild dark hair– or worse, try to scent him– as he called the private elevator, which opened right into their apartment and could only be accessed by a certain keycard.
As they waited, Gojo pulled out his phone to check if he had any missed calls or messages when he felt something tug on his hand. Subtly looking down, Gojo saw Megumi had slipped his hand into Gojo’s, but was staring straight ahead with a slight furrow to his brow, as if he didn’t realize what he was doing. Gojo didn’t call it out, afraid that making Megumi feel like the kid he was would cause him to withdraw.
But as the elevator doors opened into the garage, he did give Megumi’s hand a squeeze, which was quickly returned.
***
"Our report for the fiscal year of the European Branch of Gojo Enterprises, tech division, has been finalized. The financial performance continues on a positive trajectory with a 15% increase in revenue over the last quarter, primarily driven by strong demand for our latest tech innovations in the region.”
From the head of the long conference table he sat at, Gojo watched as one of Mei Mei’s finance team slackies ran through the latest projectiles and data for that year and the next for his family’s company, Gojo Enterprises. The company was a leader in the tech division– cell phones, television, wifi– across Eastern Asia, the Americas, and even some European countries. Of course Gojo Enterprises wasn’t limited to tech, it also dealt in real estate and transportation.
Nothing was too big for the Gojo Clan, a family that had been building its power for generations– not only financially, but physically.
The Gojo clan was entirely made up of dominant Alphas and their submissive Beta partners, no Omegas were allowed in the family and none were allowed to have power– that is, until Gojo at least. Not that anyone knew he was an Omega, that was a secret his parents kept close and guarded with a passion. Not for Gojo’s sake, in case anyone ever misunderstood their situation, no, the only reason they guarded Gojo’s secret was so that his father didn’t lose his position of power to Gojo’s Beta uncle.
It was all very political and rather blah, in Gojo’s opinion.
As the son of a dominant Alpha/Beta pairing, who was also the Gojo Clan’s heir, Gojo was treated as the treasure for the first 14 years of his life. His father was serious but dotting, wanting to constantly show Gojo the “ropes.”
Of course those “ropes” entailed skipping school to attend business meetings, some of which went late into the night and would result in Omega “visitors” coming to entertain his father’s clients.
He had always been too young, so when night would fall and a light knock would sound on the conference room’s door, Gojo’s father would allow him to see the Omegas led in before he was escorted out.
The image of their bodies moving slowly and seductively in silks and metallics would sear its way into his brain, behind his eyelids.
Gojo didn’t know why. Didn’t know why he would get so mesmerized by the way they moved. By the way they smiled softly at his father and their guests. Didn’t know why he would then get so sad when his father would meet Gojo in the car to drive back home, only to spend the entire car ride berating the same people he would beckon into the room with a wide smile.
Weak.
Whores.
Nothing but second-class citizens.
He would then turn to Gojo and tell him, “You’re lucky you can’t fully scent pheromones yet. You don’t have to suffer through their disgustingly sweet scent.”
It wasn’t until Gojo turned 14, when his father finally let him sit in on what happened with those Omegas. That he sat in his chair, hands together in his lab as he tracked the movements of everyone in the room.
Of the Omega who crawled on the conference room table and slowly started taking off her clothes. Of the Omegas who would crawl into the laps and under the table, around the laughing, pink-cheeked Alphas. Of his father who simply had an Omega sit next to him on the floor as he pet their head.
Gojo could feel a heat fill the room. He remembers feeling nauseous. He remembers an Omega coming up to him and telling him how pretty he was. He remembers smelling something sweet. And then musky. And then feeling like it was all too much.
He’d dashed out of the room then, only making it to a trash bin before he started vomiting.
No one followed him out. No one noticed the tremors take over his body.
No one noticed the fever that ravaged him that night in bed. Of the pain he felt in his body.
But his father did notice the sweet pheromones that leaked out of newly opened glands. The pink flush to his cheeks. The whimper that escaped his lips when a new wave of pain hit him.
He didn’t see his father for three months after that.
But that was a long time ago.
Now, the whole world believes Gojo is a Beta, one who had married a female Beta– a wife that had died during the childbirth of their only son.
Now, Gojo was a single dad, forced to pretend to mourn a wife he never even had just so that the elites of Japanese society didn’t try to set him up with their daughters.
It was stupidly exhausting.
“So what do you think, hmm?” Mei Mei leaned over and quietly asked Gojo from her spot next to him, snapping him out of his thoughts.
“In terms of whether we should fire the French CMO because of their shit performance this year, or in terms of your immaculate skills putting a presentation together that outlines their demise?” Gojo smirked at Mei Mei and she smiled back.
“Both, obviously. But most importantly I was thinking about my end-of-year bonus.” Gojo laughed.
Like most Alphas, Mei Mei was incredibly straightforward and blunt. She also happened to be obsessed with money, which made her a good CFO– as long as Gojo paid her well, of course. And he did, pay her more than enough, which is why she’s stayed.
Gojo also liked Mei Mei because she liked to do her talking with cold hard cash, and not her pheromones. Not feeling the need to use them to make those around her submissive– she only needed her cutthroat personality for that.
Mei Mei leaned back in her seat, smiling. They both turned their attention back to the presenter who stood at the opposite end of that long conference table. It was almost three o’clock, if this ended quickly, he could make it in time to pick up Megumi– something he rarely got to do with his busy schedule.
Gojo had wanted to give Megumi something he never had growing up– a sense of family. So he made sure they always had at least one meal a day, usually breakfast, and if they could they’d have dinner together too. But that wasn’t as often because of Gojo’s idiotic “responsibilities.”
“...We're also leveraging synergies between branches to enhance global operations and mitigate risks amidst evolving market dynamics. Therefore we should be set to see increases across these quadrants for Q1 and Q2 next year.” With that, the presenter folded up his notes and turned the presentation off from where it was projecting behind him. Mei Mei clapped her hands and stood up.
“Great job team, drinks are on the company card tonight!” She gave Gojo a wink and he smiled, waving his hand in obvious permission.
With that she led the entire finance team out of the conference room. The marketing and management teams slowly trickled out afterward, leaving only Gojo.
He checked his phone, 3:20pm. Grabbing his notepads and pens, he quickly ran to his office, informed his secretary to cancel Megumi’s pick-up service and nanny, and to ensure no one bothered Gojo for the rest of the day. All set, Gojo jumped into his car, and turned out of the parking lot, heading to the Kodomo Elementary School to pick up his son.
***
Kodomo Elementary was known as a school for celebrities’ and other rich affluent types’ children. It was guarded against paparazzi and any other potential threats, and the entire campus was gated, only enterable through a security-guarded gate. As an added bonus, it wasn’t too far from both Gojo’s apartment and office, so luckily he was able to make it before the dismissal.
After getting through the gate and parking his car, Gojo walked toward the entrance of the school, waiting for the rush of children to come running out. All of which would be getting picked up by their own drivers, nannies, or guardians. Gojo took this quiet opportunity to answer some texts.
The perks of being the boss was that he could just leave at 3pm if he wanted to, but the cons was that the work never ended and normally when he did leave early it just meant he would have to work late into the night from his home office.
Gojo was just in the middle of responding to something when he heard a voice from behind him, it was deep and velvety with a light musical tone to it, “Okay children, put your shoes on and head on outside.”
His entire body stiffened.
He gripped his phone with enough pressure that he felt it would break, and pressed his back into the side of the building, hiding instinctively.
Why was he here?
Was he here?
Had Gojo finally lost it?
Feeling he was well-hidden enough, Gojo lightly peaked his head around the corner, keeping his body out of sight. His eyes roamed over the loitering and chatting children, frantic to see the owner of that voice, to see if he remembered it correctly or if he’d hallucinated it. But how could he forget it? It still haunted his dreams.
Finally Gojo’s eyes found their target: there he was, squatting in front of a crying child, comforting them. He looked bigger than before– of course, he did, it’d been over 7 years. He wore his long black hair loose now, with a simple knot holding a few strands back. Gojo’s eyes ate up the sight of the man he hadn’t seen in years.
Geto Suguru.
As if summoned by Gojo’s thoughts, Geto turned towards where he was hiding. Gojo quickly moved to be completely hidden by the wall, and for good measure, he squatted down low.
Memories flooded his mind of hidden touches, quiet voices, playful shoves; of feeling safe, feeling content for once in his life; of agony, sorrow, heartbreak, tears coming down so quickly they choked him.
Of abandonment.
Rubbing his temples, Gojo tried to come to terms with the idea that his Geto Suguru was here. That they were so close. That he was so different and yet just the same.
Kind, calm, velvety voice that paired with an intense presence that made you take him a little more seriously than his kind demeanor originally asks for.
He was just as gorgeous as Gojo remembered, maybe even more so.
Gojo was lost in his thoughts when a shadow fell over him. His heart stopped, and he felt it crawling up his throat. Trying to suffocate him.
“Why are you hiding?” Gojo looked to the right into a pair of dark blue eyes, set into the face of a serious child.
Megumi.
Gojo sighed in relief. Felt his heart thrum through his whole body, but the overall stress of being found out by a certain someone, as if cursed by fate, was gone now.
Fuck. What was he doing?
He was a grown man, a father even.
“Nothing, just resting because you took so long,” Gojo ruffled Megumi’s hair as he stood up. Placing a hand on his son’s shoulders, Gojo led Megumi towards their car as fast as possible, never looking back.