How To Train Your…Worm?

by WeLikeVisceraHere (Cl0uddanc3r)

Summary:

Toji Fushiguro kills every curse he comes across. They’re vermin at best, and actively dangerous at the worst. One day, he discovers an exception to this rule: one that calls him “mom” and won’t quit following him.

Or: a Toji-centric fic that follows his recollections of daily life in the months leading up to his final minutes he spent alive.

Chapter 1: 8:00 AM

It’s a beautiful day outside.

Even Toji, who you usually couldn’t coax out of bed earlier than 10am without a good chunk of cash, wasn’t immune to it. The sun was just barely inching through his shoddy blinds when he woke up that morning. Normally, he’d grunt a little, turn over, and sleep for the next few hours, but something felt different. He actually had the energy to get up. When he checked the clock, it read 8:34 am. Odd. But Toji has never been one to question a pleasant twist of fate, so he went to make himself breakfast.

That too, went off without a hitch. There was food in the fridge, good food, mind you, and not scraps of leftover takeout or something that he forgot molding for the past month. Such was also a rare occurrence between jobs. Toji can take care of himself. It’s just that he only ever does the bare minimum. The evidence of that is all around his current apartment. When you move around this often to take jobs and stay clear of any meddling forces (police, overeager sorcerers, even the odd curse,) you never really set down any roots. Everything looks and feels the same. Like a cutout. Stamp it wherever you want. It’ll only ever make the same thing. Perhaps it’s miserable. Toji didn’t notice, because that day, he cooked his eggs perfectly.

A pinch of salt. No pepper, no sauce, no spices. It’s all he needed- it was a calm morning. Toji sat on the floor in his living room, cross-legged, still staring out the grimy window. The sun glittered against the carapace of a bug stuck between the screen and the pane. Toji watched it uselessly bounce against the glass as he ate that morning. He considered getting up and letting it go. That would be too much effort. Even sparing his thoughts for such a small, insignificant thing was taxing. And so when Toji finished his eggs that morning, he placed the dirty dish in the sink as usual. It had taken some effort to balance it on top of the existing stack. Toji reminded himself to get to it eventually.

He won’t. Not that day. Not the next. Nor next week.

If Toji had to pick the worst part of what he does, it would be the waiting. As much as he likes the betting, the alcohol, and the occasional short visit to Megumi, it’s like he’s trapped in some kind of limbo. Waiting for the money to run out. Depending on the job prior, it happens in as little as a week to as long as two months. If he doesn’t think too hard, he can enjoy himself. But if he lets his mind have any kind of foothold or bearing, it likes to remind him every dollar spent or lost on a bet is one he’ll have to claw back from hunting down someone or something no one else wants to bother with. At least, there’s no shortage of demand. Toji Fushiguro is getting to be a big name in most places, provided you know where to look.

On that perfect morning, he had decided to go to a park. Unusual. It was a compulsion he followed blindly much like anything else. The light had felt unnaturally hot on his skin that morning, eating through it and cooking him down to the bone beneath his shirt. Life felt thicker than usual. Like molten iron sluggishly flowing across his vision and devouring everything he could see. The leaves on the trees were waxy, glinting artificially perfect. Toji didn’t normally make a habit out of observing much of anything. He was rather content to trundle along until his money ran out and he had to do it all again. Many say that life is cyclical. Perhaps that’s true of no one more than Toji.

In hindsight, there was plenty of warning.

Low level curses aren’t a rare sight. Even if someone does see them, the chances they actually get exorcised is criminally low. Plenty of them hang off of gloomy people milling about, feeding on the negativity to bolster themselves. But such everyday miseries fade quickly. Like Toji, these curses have to jump from target to target, latching on until they’ve had all that’s worth taking from them. He doesn’t bother killing them unless they try to latch onto him- but there’s always someone more miserable nearby. Even in a place as idyllic and happy as a park on a perfect morning.

There was a runner. Some pretty young woman dressed in clothes that were perhaps a bit too tight for her. Toji’s gaze didn’t linger on her for ungentlemanly reasons. She had a curse latched onto her that was bigger than all the rest. And uglier. When it comes to curses, they’re all pretty ugly and weird, but this one Toji remembers, specifically because it was so uncanny. A rotund body in segments that coiled in many loops around the oblivious woman’s waist like a serpent. Many stubby, fleshy legs that were surely useless otherwise dug into her flesh, and yet this woman kept running. Admirable.

The curse wiggled upwards. She slowed as she ran the loop past Toji the second time, gasping for air. The third and fourth times she stubbornly kept up the pace, even as her chest was constricted and her earlier sadness became a crushing misery that only agitated the curse more. By the fifth round she had slowed to a walk, and was choking quietly. Toji watched her stumble. Then sink to her knees. He wasn’t enjoying it. He didn’t hate it. He felt nothing for her, nothing at all. No twinge in his heart. He’d witnessed far too much death to flinch at something so mundane now.

When no other runner came by, she began to get desperate. Toji watched her writhe, eyes closed, clawing at her chest as though she could tear out her lungs and expose them to the air to start breathing again. Humans do funny things when they’re deprived of oxygen. This woman made a whole lot of squeaking noises, like some kind of rubber chicken you’d find in a novelty store. Toji blinked. She collapsed soon after, twitching, the curse squeezing like an anaconda to get the last few ounces of fear from her before it inevitably squirmed off to find its next meal.

Toji’s no hero. Never has been, never wants to be. He hardly does anything for free. But something about that particular situation made him act that day. So he rose from the bench, a small dagger glittering in his hand. The woman on the ground had tried to get away from him too, even as she was convulsing and gasping for oxygen. Toji remembers the sensation of disgust he felt- not for the curse or the situation, but the way her saliva had foamed around her mouth. It made her look rabid. Thinking back, she must have thought he was going to stab her.

The curse must have known he was dangerous, because when he approached, it tried to squirm out from under the woman’s body. For its credit, it was quick. Especially considering its seemingly useless stubs for legs. It had almost gotten away completely before Toji stepped down on its tail, pinning it to the concrete.

Toji never would have remembered it if it wasn’t for its face.

The faces of curses are all inhuman. But this one was so unbearably close to one that for a fraction of a second, he hesitated. A man who had killed humans before, stopped, because this thing, resembled a baby. Right down to the drool and sparse scattering of hair across its head. But that was only a moment. If he had to, Toji Fushiguro would kill a child, higher powers be damned. His knife slit it down the middle, and he remembered how the wretched thing contracted and wailed just like an infant might. It soon crumbled into residuals, and then nothing at all. The runner didn’t move. Or thank him. He remembers kneeling down and sliding up her shirt, looking at the constriction bruises on her torso. Deep purple. The hospital will have a field day trying to figure out what did it.

Toji had laughed at the thought. So many people were ignorant of what went on around them. A curse could turn someone to ash in broad daylight and you’d have all manner of scientists and conspiracy theorists alike trying to justify “spontaneous human combustion” as a rare medical phenomenon. How prized order is. Then again, it’s probably better that the people at the hospital won’t have a clue what happened. Toji put her shirt back down. She’ll live, most likely.

He called an ambulance for the woman and left the park shortly after. Someone like him isn’t the guy you want to find at what could have been a crime scene. For the rest of the day, he thought nothing of it. That perfect morning faded into a regular afternoon, which led him back to his apartment, for an evening spent up to his neck in good booze.

Megumi can stay the night with his sitter again. It’ll be fine. He’ll give her more money.

It was too quiet in his apartment. The beer tasted drier than usual. Toji vaguely remembers seeing the bug from earlier still bouncing uselessly off the window pane. Why hadn’t it given up by now? He laughed a little. With no one around to hear him, it felt weird. Toji’s not insane. He doesn’t talk to himself. He doesn’t hallucinate. But sometimes he can’t help but feel like he’s losing his grip on life sometimes. It’s easy to have another few beers, spend another few bills, place another bet. Again and again. Up and down. He stacked the beer bottles in varying shapes on the table to occupy himself. One ended up clattering to the floor and breaking, and it took him ten minutes to find the motivation to get up and pick up the pieces. There was probably some blood on the hardwood. He never wiped it up. The landlord can take care of that when he inevitably moves to his next place.

Toji had taken small fistfuls of the glass and placed them in an overfull garbage bag. More of his blood ended up on the edge of it, sure to dry and crust over soon. Most people would call that filthy. By that point Toji was too drunk to care. It was difficult to walk, and he’s never been the type to be afraid of a little mess.

There’s too much blood, really. Is it all his?

Toji never made it back to the table. He slumped onto the couch, facedown, half of his frame unable to fit on it properly. It must have looked like he was slowly melting into it. Vaguely, he knew he should clean up the rest of the bottles. He could do that later. When he was hungover and woke up at noon. When the responsibilities piled so high so that he could no longer avoid them. Perfection is unattainable. And thus stagnation was and will always be Toji’s vice of choice.

Eventually, the sunlight of the perfect morning was dead and gone. Only the hollow husk of the most distant stars remained. He fell asleep on the couch that night, half drunk and oblivious to the world.

Chapter 2: 9:00 AM

Notes:

Look, I know Toji is probably good enough at wound care to get by alone, but also I think he’s gross about it.

Fuck, his head feels like it’s going to split down the middle.

Toji groaned into the couch. He wished many times that there would be someone else to pry him away from the cushions, but of course, he lived alone. Has for the past while. It took him a monumental effort to turn his head. The window was already illuminated with the light of the dawn. That morning, it was much less welcoming. Only another obstacle Toji needed to overcome. He grunted, closing his eyes again. This was how most mornings went. Yesterday was an outlier. Is it better to have no luck when you gamble, and a predictable, simple game, or to have a stroke of luck, just once, occur and make you question all that you know once it leaves?

Toji wasn’t in the business of answering such questions. Especially when hungover.

“Hnngh.” He groaned again, the sound muffled by the pillows. No one responded. Even the bug in the window had given up its struggle sometime in the middle of the night. Toji expected to see its dead and rigid body wedged between the screen and the pane, if he only had the energy to get up. The couch had swallowed many hours. And it would always swallow more. Perhaps it had also absorbed mortal greed.

A minute. An hour. Toji doesn’t count the time. He remembers getting up, still sore, and trudging into the kitchen. The bottles from last night are still stacked haphazardly, some having rolled over at some point. More shards of glass litter the ground. In the sunlight, the bloodstains are more apparent, crusted on the floor. A trail of droplets led to the trash. On it is a bloody handprint. Toji remembers checking his hand. On it were numerous small cuts. Unclean. What a bother. He walked over to the sink, squinting down at his skin.

A small pocket of pus had formed over the night. He reached for one of his knives, holding the point above his palm. For a moment, he stood there in his kitchen, blade pointed directly at his hand. Toji’s eyes were glassy. His head was still fogged from the previous night.

What am I doing here?

Toji didn’t want to think about it any longer. He pressed the tip of the knife downwards, his skin breaking easily. The wound was reopened wider than before, and it wept slowly into his palm. Chunks of bloody pus oozed from the abscess, dropping one by one into the sink. Toji watched in silence. The pain was dull, even then. All there was to feel was his heartbeat, faint beneath his skin. He doesn’t remember how long he stood at the sink, watching the flow of blood taper and then eventually stop. Toji turned on the tap at some point. The water chased away the blood, making it hide within the pipes and go somewhere else. Not Toji’s problem anymore.

He vaguely recalled the reason infections occurred in the first place. And so Toji meandered into his bathroom in search of antiseptic. The light barely worked when he went to flick it on. For a few seconds, it sputtered, making odd clicks. He dug around. After a minute, he found a small bottle. Painkillers. An old prescription of his. Upon checking the date, he found that it was a year and a half expired. Toji took the same dose anyway. His body had sustained a lot more than bad medicine.

Slowly, his hand closed around the handle of a first aid kit. Only used once. Everything was in its place, perfectly undisturbed as the day he bought it. Toji set it on the counter. Click. Toji never learned how to sew. That was women’s work. And he was a man. Always. But there were no women in his apartment to teach him how to sew that morning. He grabbed the needle in a clumsy grip. It took him far longer than most to slip the thread through and tie an impossibly small knot on the eye of the needle. He brought the tip of the needle to the two separate flaps of skin. Again, he stared for a moment. The flesh beneath still had a few remnants of pus oozing from the corners. Toji nudged it away with the tip of the needle. It clung to it like a second, disgusting skin. Without a second thought, Toji licked it off. Bitter. He won’t do that again.

The needle pierces he skin easily. Toji pulled it forward, the sensation of thread being tugged through his skin and stopping at a knot made his fingers twitch in discomfort. He had to finish the job. Pull, push. Pull, push. It was monotonous work. The thread soon held the two pieces of skin together, a neat seam between the two of them. Only the faintest residue of pus clung to it.

Toji did not know how to tie it off.

For a while, he stood there, looking in the unwashed mirror. Wasting time again. His face was as he remembered. Same scar. Same eyes. Same lines carved deep into his face from the demands life itself made of Toji. He wasn’t sure he even saw himself. Literally, he did. You couldn’t change your flesh overnight. But there was a sense of aimlessness. Perhaps it was the work of the hangover, but Toji felt as though he could reach right into the mirror and it would pull him into a different place. Where that place was, he had no idea. Nor the rules that would apply to it. It only seemed like a funny thought at the time.

For how long he stared, he did not know. The needle glinted between his fingertips, string hanging loosely from the eye of it.

Finish the job, Toji.

Eventually, he tied another knot. It slid all the way down to the seam, and Toji severed the string. With a clink, the needle dropped to the floor. He sunk to his knees to grab it. The distance would close any day now. Surely. Toji’s never had a hangover this bad before. He was sure he didn’t get that drunk last night. As he put the needle back in the first aid kit, he wondered if there was anything else it could be. But Toji, being Toji, dismissed the thought. There was nothing wrong with him. He was an ordinary man with ordinary interests. The only thing exceptional about him was his means. And that was not exclusive to Toji. Plenty more existed in his niche of the world. Like vermin, cities breed opportunistic humans.

Toji won. The wound was sealed. The first aid kit was put back. All was as it should be.

He trundled out of the bathroom, flicking the light switch as he went. The sun cast different shadows in his apartment now. He’d been in the bathroom too long. The day was practically wasted. It was a tempting idea to sit back down and end it with another few beers, but Toji wasn’t that useless. His head still hurt. Albeit more dull because of the expired meds. At least they still worked in some sense. Toji stopped at the pile of bottles. He stared. Everything has a million more interesting details when you don’t want to do something. Anything becomes a distraction. Ultimately nothing is accomplished. But each day you get a crack at things. A chance to make things right. Toji pushed the thoughts aside again. He much preferred when there was nothing at all in his brain. The emptiness itself was its own pleasantry. Much lower risk than anything he’d ever do.

Toji finally collected the bottles. Six of them. They clink to the bottom of the blood-stained garbage bag, one after the other. A whole pack gone in just one night. He’d need to buy more for this evening if he wanted to last the rest of the week. Toji groaned. Walking sounded like an awful idea right now, but it was all he could do. There was no job waiting for him. Nothing in his apartment to occupy himself. He could always hunt down someone willing to play a round of cards with him, but the prospect of actual human interaction sounded worse.

With that in mind, Toji dug around in the cash drawer. Some might call this insecure, but Toji would tell them that he barely leaves his apartment and anyone who tries to separate him from his money without good cause is liable to end up with more stab wounds than they bargained for. He flicked through the bills, expression flat and vacant. Enough for beer, at least. And to pay the sitter when he eventually gets around to picking up Megumi and finding someone else to watch him. Toji closed the drawer and tucked the crumpled bills into his pocket.

The train was crowded, as usual. Shoulder to shoulder with no one he knew, packed tight like sardines, close enough that you could smell the sweat. Unpleasant. Sunlight beamed through the window across from him, dwindling. It was evening again. When had that happened? Toji wasn’t certain. He hadn’t exactly been keeping an eye on the clock. He pushed a hand back into his pocket, forming a fist around the bills. They crinkled slightly, folding beneath his grip. A few more minutes and he would join the school of fish swimming off to better prospects.

The crowd moved around Toji, flowing out of the train. He stood completely still. No one brushed up against him. It was as if they were all eager to get away from him. The idea made him smile for a moment, before his face fell back into its usual expression. He stepped off the train. The liquor store he likes is only a few blocks from here. Toji walked at a slow pace. He must have looked like some kind of lumbering giant to the scores of people on the sidewalk either heading to dinner or home after work. He was a head taller than most of them, after all. Toji is used to the stares he gets. He used to like the attention, but now it’s just another fact of life.

“Welcome back, Fushiguro.” The woman behind the counter has seen him in here too many times. He wished she’d stay quiet. Women who talk too much make it hard for him to think. He didn’t say anything to her, and merely grunted quietly in acknowledgment. Toji meandered to the back of the store. Almost no one else came here at this time. Buying alcohol midweek is almost an indirect admission that you have a problem, but Toji didn’t see it that way. His fridge can’t fit enough beer to last him a whole week anyways, unless he wanted to forgo eating entirely.

The fluorescent lights at the back buzzed annoyingly. Toji walked between the shelves, brushing his finger over various labels. For such a small store, it had a decent variety, even more international products, from Germany or the United States. He wasn’t picky. As long as it didn’t taste like someone scooped it out of a street gutter and merely strained all the bugs out of, Toji would drink it.

Clink. He grabbed two packs, tucking one under his arm and holding the other in his hand. The woman at the counter couldn’t quite keep her pleasant expression when he approached her, lips pursed into a tight smile. People buying beer was part of the job here. If anything, she should be thanking Toji every time he comes in. He’s probably her best customer, after all.

“Here,” he placed the wad of crumpled bills on the counter. “Should be enough.”

“Thank you.” She unfolded the bills, still smiling. The air had become rather uncomfortable and neither of them did anything about it. She drew a bill out of the pile and placed it back on the counter. “Change. Thank you for coming by again.” The line sounded rehearsed. Probably because it was. Toji didn’t care. He grabbed the bill off of the counter, shoving it back into his pocket, before walking back down the street, a pack of beer in each hand. Passersby didn’t stare at him. At least, not directly. But Toji felt the weight of people’s looks prickling under the skin of his neck all the way to the train station.

The train ride home felt shorter than the one there. Toji was barely even aware of how he got from his stop to the inside of his apartment. His fingers had gone numb from the cardboard handles attached to the beer cases digging into them. When he finally placed the beer beside his fridge, his fingers took a few seconds to unfurl, twitching slightly like dying insects. Toji sighed. It was too warm in his apartment. At least the cool texture of his fridge could soothe it a bit. He leaned down, slowly, pressing himself up against the door of it, exhaling. That was a little better.

Where the hell had all this spaciness come from, anyways? Toji’s never been dull before. The only reason he lived this long in the first place was because his senses were sharper than anyone else’s. It had to be the hangover. There was no other plausible explanation for it. If he limited himself to just one or two beers tonight, he’d be able to pick up Megumi tomorrow without a problem.

It took more energy than Toji would like to pry himself away from the fridge door. Disgustingly, there was a sweaty imprint left behind on it. He drew his finger through it, squinting a little. There shouldn’t have been that much for how little time he was leaning on it. Did he have some kind of fever? Toji barely ever got sick because of his constitution, so whenever he did end up falling ill, it was something not severe. He groaned. What a bother. He opened the fridge, grabbing the beer again and placing it in the bottom of it. Maybe he won’t drink tonight. His eyelids are already feeling heavy.

A cold shower should fix it. Right?

Fuck, that hurts.

Toji’s muscles tense sharply as he steps under the water. He forces himself to close the door behind him rather than step back out again. He’s already feeling chilly. Good. This should freeze the fever right out of him, if he remembers right. Toji’s hair sticks to his forehead, bangs hanging down into his eyes as he leans over, pressed against the cold and unforgiving tile that forms the shower walls. The wound on his palm he stitched up this morning burned in protest against being forced to bear his weight. Fuck. Now that the string’s gotten wet, is it going to stay in there? He glanced down at his palm.

It’s completely unchanged, save for the red, inflamed skin around the wound. There’s a little bubble of pus forming under the skin again. Right. Medical grade thread. Of course it’s waterproof- why would he even think otherwise? Toji groaned again, pressing his face into the tile. He shivered at the contact, shoulders spasming slightly. Despite it all, he still could barely think. Toji doesn’t even like thinking. He never has. Thought was something better done by people who never did anything else. You never know how valuable an ability is until you struggle to perform it.

Time is slower. Toji felt as though the water was hail against his back, scraping away his flesh and sending it in chunks off of his back. Yet nothing has changed. He still has to pick up Megumi tomorrow. His apartment is still empty. It’s been empty as long as he can remember. Toji’s fist takes a few seconds to tighten after he thinks about it, and for the first time in a while, he feels a prickle of genuine fear at the back of his mind. He did his best to pry it out and cast it down the drain as well, but it stays stubbornly lodged, telling him that this might be something more serious. Should he go to a doctor? He vaguely recalled the knowledge that some illnesses can lie dormant for years and then manifest suddenly with no obvious explanation. Is that what he had?

He has to calm down. This is irrational.

Toji shuddered violently as he stepped out of the shower, reaching for his towel. A glimpse of his face in his mirror told him he looked positively awful. His limp, wet bangs hung down in his eyes, looking like they’d been hastily and unprofessionally cut by a teenager trying to rebel against his parents. (In a way, perhaps that sentiment fit Toji.) Even though he’d done nothing remotely strenuous today, there were bags beneath his eyes and his body seemed as though it could barely hold him upright. Toji raised a hand to his face, poking his cheek. He scowled slightly. If this didn’t go away in a handful of days, he wouldn’t know what to do.

He didn’t bother with carrying clothes into the bathroom, and so, he stepped out only wrapped in his towel, crossing through the apartment to his bedroom. The darkness outside reminded him of how much time he’d wasted today. Idling. Like some kind of absent minded idiot. It made Toji’s lip curl in disgust. He didn’t bother putting a shirt on, only a pair of pants, before drawing his blinds closed and flopping ungracefully on his bed. It was too hot to pull the blankets over himself. Toji knew he’d be sweating the whole night regardless.

Things have to get better tomorrow.

Notes:

Bit of a slow burn here…except the “slow burn” isn’t romance it’s Toji Fushiguro’s long slippery slide into death. Leave a kudos/comment if you’re enjoying so far!

Chapter 3: 10:00 AM

Good morning!

Toji was, in fact, utterly wiped. Despite the fact that he hadn’t drank last night, the head fog had only cleared up marginally. His blankets felt heavy. It took an impressive effort to reach over and open the blinds. Toji didn’t get up for another few minutes. He groaned into the pillow. Megumi. He had to take Megumi back with him today, and go about finding somewhere else to hide him where he’d be safe. Urgh.

Given his heavenly restriction, Toji found movement easy. What most people would deem to be physically impossible, he could do for fun. But even after a full night of uninterrupted sleep, his entire body felt like it was made of wet cement. In theory, he should have been able to move. Toji was fully aware of what was happening around him by this point. But whenever he thought about moving, sent the impulse to his limbs, nothing happened. It was as though someone had severed the connection between his mind and his body. The thought alone sent a chill down his spine.

Come on, Toji. Move!

He exhaled heavily, eyes shut out of frustration. Maybe this was just some kind of sleep paralysis. He’s heard about that before. Mostly in passing conversations from other people that he didn’t give a shit about at the time. Maybe he should pay attention to his environment more when he’s not actively searching for something. This was quickly becoming a problem. Toji’s mind flipped to curses. Some of them could probably cause long range effects, but ones like that would have been other people’s problem before his. A special grade causing mass paralysis in Tokyo would have disturbed the hornet’s nest of jujutsu sorcerers around here. Unless it was a lower grade? But lower grades are usually stupid, if capable of forming sapient thoughts in the first place. Toji would have discovered one in his apartment before it could do anything.

He’s drawn a blank. It’s disconcerting.

Any other day, Toji could mope around in bed the whole time and no one would care to check up on him. Hell, unless he was on the hook for money somewhere? Toji could go a few weeks without contact with anyone. If for some reason he couldn’t get out of his bed, there’d be no one around to help him. What a stupid way to die. Slowly, agonizingly running out of water in your own bed just because you couldn’t get up. Toji’s muscles tensed. He grit his teeth. The reason, he decided, didn’t matter. All he needed to do was get up out of the bed to get Megumi and take care of his one responsibility for the day. Toji took a deep inhale.

If he can fight sorcerers who defy existence with nothing but a blade, he can get out of his goddamn bed.

Toji’s muscles spasmed violently, sending him off to his side, rolling jerkily out of bed and directly onto the floor. He twitched, trying for a moment to force himself upright. It took more effort than it should have. Even to the average human, standing up off the ground wasn’t something that was exceedingly difficult. To Toji, it felt like he was trying to get up with a chunk of concrete or something equally burdensome pinning him onto the floor. Eventually, he managed. His legs felt shaky for the first time in years. That sent another prickle of fear through him. He did his best to crush it.

At least he was standing. Maybe if he walked around a bit, it would clear. Things got better yesterday when he forced himself to focus. Toji walked out of his room, gait unsteady and weak. It was like his body was drunk, but his mind was sober. An unpleasant combination. He eventually made it to the kitchen to have breakfast. In the fridge was the beer he bought yesterday, along with a few convenience foods and other ingredients. Fuck it, he’ll just eat a bunch of random things for breakfast. Toji finds his desire to make a “proper” meal waning by the second. He felt utterly deprived of any energy at all.

Toji cracked a few eggs into the pan. Beside it, some rice was immersed in water. Odd combination. He’ll see if it’s halfway decent. By now, the beat up clock on the wall shows that it’s just past 11am. He’s late to pick up Megumi already, by a half hour. Whatever. The sitter he left him with has proven to be reliable, and if you pay a teenager enough money, they’ll always look the other way. At least, in Toji’s experience. He flips the eggs. They sizzle in protest, but thankfully the yolks don’t burst.

As he cooks, Toji finds himself subconsciously looking around the apartment. Everything seems the same. On the one hand, good. There’s no curses hiding away making things hard for him. On the other, still no leads. Toji didn’t feel like going to a doctor this early. It could still clear up all on his own, and he’d seem like a fool for inquiring, not to mention waste money that could have been used on something infinitely more entertaining than some old man’s opinion about his body. Toji sighed. There wasn’t exactly a place for Megumi to sleep, now that he thought about it. He’d have to make one after he ate.

Toji slid the eggs onto a plate, turning the burner off. The rice could wait. He leaned up against the counter to eat. His legs, though still supporting him, felt weaker and shaky. Toji cut a single egg away from the mass, putting it into his mouth. The yolk popped satisfyingly, as it ever had, but the more Toji ate, the sicker he felt. His stomach squeezed with every mouthful. Yet he still felt hungry. He scowled. Maybe it was a flu of some kind. He’d barely ever been sick before. It wasn’t impossible. Only rare. Toji set the plate of half eaten eggs down on the counter, staring at the rice. Even though he was still hungry, the thought of eating anything else right now made him want to vomit.

He took the rice off of the burner, grabbing a spoon. Megumi could have some of it later. He scraped it out of the pot, setting the bowl of it in the fridge, along with the half eaten eggs. Toji had to take a moment. His face was flushed. His skin felt as thought it was burning, blistering beneath his clothes, and slowly, he slumped down over the sink, panting heavily. Is it the cut? Did he get something in it? Toji glanced at his palm. Though reddened and angry looking, he’s had far worse wounds. A thin film of fluid was stuck to the stitches. He lifted his other hand, prodding at the pocket of pus formed beneath it. Fumbling slightly, Toji reached for one of his kitchen knives. His hand paused. As tempting as it was to lance the wound and drain the pus again, it would probably introduce more bacteria to the wound…and while the pressure was annoying, it was the most manageable thing out of everything else that had happened to him seemingly overnight.

Groaning, Toji dipped his head into the sink. He reached for the faucet this time, fingers sweaty and trembling. Soon his head was completely doused with cold water. His muscles spasmed again, but the shock to his system was enough that he regained some control over himself. Toji shut off the tap near instantly, stepping away from the sink, shuddering. Unpleasant. At least it worked. He really was running late now- it was an hour past the time he said he’d pick up Megumi by. For a moment he wondered if it was a good idea to leave the apartment at all. Whatever this was, it was getting worse.

But as usual, Toji had no choice.

He’d just have to brute force it. But what else is new? Toji grit his teeth, grabbing the money he’d set aside for the sitter, shoving it into his pocket. He practically stomped out the door, slamming it behind him so hard that he heard the wood creak. Good thing he didn’t tear it off the frame. He’s done that before a few times, and it’s always an embarrassment to explain to the landlord why you have to go out of your way to buy and install new hinges.

The train ride is stiflingly hot. Hotter than yesterday. Toji’s face is set in a scowl, face burning, his fist tight around the bills in his pants. Other people sneak glances at him. He stared directly out the window, taking slow, almost heaving breaths. If he just focuses, he’ll get there. Every time the train rattles, he’s closer. Each second that passes is a second he doesn’t have to spend in this train anymore. The sitter won’t say anything to him- he knows she won’t. She knows her place, and not to ask questions, especially when Toji leaves a good tip.

He stumbled along the sidewalk towards her place, half dazed. Whatever’s happening to him fluctuates in severity, making it impossible to tell what’s going to happen next. One minute, he feels fine, like he did before this whole mess started. The next, he feels so queasy he can barely stand. Toji wondered if he’d end up vomiting before he got there. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s done that in a public place. Though, usually he has the comforting blanket of being drunk out of his mind at the time. It’s broad daylight, and Toji’s as sober as he’s ever been. Unfortunately.

Sluggishly, he raised his arm to knock on the door. Three times in short succession. He hears footsteps behind the door grow closer, and the sitter opens the door. She hides her exasperation at his excessive tardiness well. Toji must look like a mess. He’s sure that he’s sweating and there’s a distant look in his eyes. Maybe she thinks he’d gotten caught up doing drugs before coming here, and that was the reason he was late. Toji couldn’t blame her. He probably looked like he shot something up a couple minutes ago.

“Thanks.” He handed her the wad of crumpled bills. She smiled, rehearsed and happy looking.

“You’re welcome, and it’s no trouble at all. Come on in. Megumi’s playing shadow puppets again.”

Great. Toji will most likely have to keep a straight face as Megumi inevitably tells one of his little bastard shadows to try and keep Toji away. Swatting at what should be empty air in front of a non-sorcerer does absolutely nothing to dissuade the “on drugs” suspicion she no doubt has about him. Toji stepped inside anyways.

“Megumi! Come on, we’re going home.”

No response. Toji sighed.

“Kid, I’m not asking. We’re going.”

An unearthly squawk came from the living room. Irate, Toji stepped further inside, trying to see Megumi. The kid was five. Like it or not, he was coming with. Toji would carry him like an insolent bag of rice if he had to. He stepped around a corner, peering into the kitchen, and was immediately greeted by one of Megumi’s shikigami crashing into his face. Toji spluttered, his mouth full of feathers. Whatever it was, it was trying (rather unsuccessfully, really,) to tear his face off with its claws. Toji grabbed the back of its neck, sharply prying it off to take a look at it.

Ah. This one was Nue. He vaguely remembers the kid summoning it the last time he was around, but it was significantly scruffier, uglier, and couldn’t fly. Now it’s somewhat elegant looking, if not for the humanoid face in the middle of it. It looked like an unfortunate owl, really. Right down to the indignant squawking. Nue tried vainly to shock Toji, to stun him just enough to escape, but his grip only tightened more. It let out a shriek of pain.

“Put Nue down!” Megumi ran right up to him, sounding rather distressed. Toji rolled his eyes.

“Keep it off of me, and I will. Come on. You’re not supposed to draw attention to yourself when there’s other people around.” Toji’s tone was hushed and irritated. The last thing he needed right now was to get reported to social services or something. Megumi seemed to consider this for a moment, before he reached up to Nue, patting it on the back. As if under a spell, its wings folded and relaxed, and it soon went limp in Toji’s hold, melting through his fingers and draining into the shadows on the floor.

“Ok.” Megumi said nothing else. He followed Toji out of the house, shuffling, head down. He didn’t say goodbye to the sitter, who closed the door rather hastily behind the two of them as soon as they stepped outside. Toji didn’t care for the rudeness, but he wasn’t about to open the door to tell her off.

Toji had never seen Megumi quite so sullen before. He wasn’t a happy kid, and Toji didn’t spend much time with him besides whenever he was finding a new place to stash him, but right now he was outright pouting. Dragging his feet over the sidewalk as he moved. Megumi was getting progressively slower by the second, and Toji wasn’t in the most patient state of mind, given that he was still dealing with the occasional overwhelming wave of nausea. When Megumi stopped in the middle of the street to fiddle with the hem of his shirt for the fourth time, Toji couldn’t handle it anymore. He should have been home by now, and yet they hadn’t even made it back to the train station. He tucked his hands under Megumi’s arms, hoisting him effortlessly onto his shoulders. Surprisingly, there wasn’t any screaming. Toji’s taking his blessings where he can get them by this point.

“I can see everyone up here. Like Nue.”

“I bet you can.” Toji sighed. And this is why he wasn’t a full time dad. That, and the fact that his occupation would be lethal to someone Megumi’s age, Ten Shadows be damned.

Megumi placed his small hands in Toji’s hair to keep himself upright. Mercifully, he didn’t pull on it too hard. Toji had to stoop when they entered the train, and Megumi’s spiky hair brushed the top of the roof, but other than that, the journey home was pleasantly quiet. Megumi knew enough not to pester Toji with questions on the train. Not to mention that he was withdrawn in the first place. He preferred his shikigami to Toji, and Toji was just fine with that. Whatever kept him occupied while he handled the adult stuff. (Even if most of the “adult stuff” was Toji figuring out how to stretch his money for both gambling and actual living expenses.)

Finally, they’re back at his apartment. Toji swings Megumi off of his shoulders, setting him down on the ground. The last time he was here had to have been…shit, at least a few months ago. Well. Nothing much has changed. Toji isn’t in the habit of redecorating or collecting pointless memorabilia. The second he unlocks the door, Megumi runs inside to explore. The apartment is small for Toji. To Megumi it probably seems just right. Toji tries to remember if there’s anything dangerous out and about that Megumi could get into, but after a minute, figures that if the kid hurts himself it’s on him and he’ll bandage him up and be done with it.

“Don’t break anything.”

“I won’t!”

“That means your shikigami too, Megumi. Don’t summon them in the house. They make messes, and I’m not cleaning up after something you did.” Toji closes the door behind the two of them. Vaguely, he knows he should be setting up a place for Megumi to sleep. The last time he had him over, he tried to share a bed with him, and it was positively awful. He couldn’t manage to scrape together the energy, and rather, staggered over to the couch, sitting down rather heavily onto it. Megumi noticed. He stared at his father for a second or two. He’d never seen Toji look like that.

“Do you feel bad?”

Toji grunted. “What does it look like, Megumi?”

“You look bad.”

Blunt as ever. Toji resisted the urge to yell at him, and covered his face with his hand, groaning into it. This was shaping up to be the longest two and a half days of his life so far.

“Yeah, I guess I do. Go play somewhere else.” Toji waves his hand dismissively, leaning back into the couch. There’s a thin sheen of sweat on his brow, and his breathing had become more laboured over the course of the last few hours. The nausea came in shorter, stronger waves now, making it hard to focus at its peak. Whatever this was, he hoped he wouldn’t give it to Megumi. He hasn’t cleaned up someone else’s vomit once since becoming a father, and didn’t plan on starting now. Megumi stared at him a moment longer, before running off to Toji’s bedroom.

Hopefully he wouldn’t go through his dresser again. Toji could do without the sight of Megumi swimming in one of his compression shirts.

Notes:

“Where’s Tsumiki?” asks the two people who remember who she exists. “Toji doesn’t know she exists in this universe and neither does Megumi,” I reply.

Poor Megumi…he’s always by himself lol

Chapter 4: 11:00 AM

Toji’s apartment would appear miserable to any adult with living standards, but to Megumi, it might as well have been a vast kingdom waiting to be discovered.

Considering that Toji was still slumped on the couch, trying not to vomit, he had full reign of the place. The last time he was here, Toji kept him out of everything. Boring! At least he could look in some of his drawers now. Megumi ran into the bathroom. Everything was so much bigger than he was used to. He peered over the edge of the sink, staring into the mirror. All he could see was half his face and his spiky, urchin-like hair. Megumi slowly rose onto his tip-toes, straining his neck to see more. Now his chin was on the countertop, making for a precarious balance. In the mirror he could see shelves behind him, disappointingly empty save for a few bottles he didn’t recognize.

That seemed like a good place to start.

Megumi stood back down, turning around to face the shelves. There were three levels. Each had a new thing on it. He went to form the sign for Nue- but then paused. Nue was loud. It always squawked when it was summoned, and Toji would get mad at him. Then he wouldn’t be able to look at his things. Megumi decided that he would have to do it himself.

The first one wasn’t too far up. If he stood on his tiptoes, he could grab a few things. Megumi carefully rose up, placing his hands on one of the containers. This one was a box of some kind. Reading was one of the few things he could do to occupy himself whenever Toji left him with another sitter. Megumi read everything he could get his hands on. This included whatever Toji had in his bathroom.

“Anti-congestion tablets.”

Megumi had no idea what that was supposed to mean. He opened the box after some scratching at the cardboard. Inside was a series of small, pink circles covered by a clear piece of plastic film. Boring. He put it back inside the box, and then back onto the shelf. Next was the strange, fancy looking bottle. This one was much easier to grab. It almost looked like a piece of glasswork that one of the sitters had. Megumi distinctly remembers being told not to go near it because it was fragile, and worth a lot of money. No one trusted Megumi with breakable things. Very carefully, he turned it over in his small hands, to make sure it wouldn’t get damaged so Toji wouldn’t scold him.

A cap was fixed to the top of it. Without a hint of hesitation, Megumi pried it off, setting it on the counter behind him. Beneath it was a smaller, shinier cap looking thing with a hole in it. Right, he’s seen these before- sometimes his sitters used perfume. Why would Toji use perfume? Megumi thought that was a girl thing. Now he really wanted to know. He walked out of the bathroom, perfume bottle in his hands.

Toji was still leaned back over the couch, chest heaving, face sweaty, and looking generally uncomfortable. Megumi couldn’t help but notice that his stomach seemed a bit more taut than normal. To make sure, he gave it a good poke.

“FUCK!”

That didn’t go well. Megumi almost tripped trying to get away from him, but Toji rose out of his seat like a lunging crocodile, grabbing him by the hair and yanking him towards him. Megumi let out a cry of pain. His grip on the perfume bottle tightened. “Ow, ow! Dad, stop!” Toji’s grip only loosened a little. He looked far sicker than the last time Megumi had seen him, and that was only a few minutes ago. Toji’s face had flushed intensely, and his hair was damp and sticky. His eyes were blurry, unfocused, and at the moment, focused on Megumi in a single-minded state of agonized rage.

“What did you do that for,” he croaked. “Shit hurt, kid.” It shouldn’t have. For gods sake, Megumi was his son, and he wasn’t even trying to hurt him. Toji brought his hand down to his stomach, pressing on it cautiously. It had grown suspiciously tight over the past few hours, but he thought it would have gone away by now. If anything, it’s gotten worse. Hesitantly, he pressed his hand down a little harder against the muscle. It didn’t have much give to it, and he harder he pressed, the worse he felt.

“I don’t know!” Megumi still sounded scared. There were tears in the corners of his little eyes, and with one hand, he reached up to grab at Toji’s to try and pull him off of his hair. There was nothing he could to do get Toji to let go of him. And yet he still tried. Pointlessly. Toji paused for a moment, grip relaxing slightly. “Don’t do that again. Got it?”

Megumi nodded shakily, still trying his best not to cry. Toji released him, wiping his sweaty palm off on his pants. He didn’t even notice the bottle of perfume in his hands. He was too focused on the overwhelming sense of nausea. It was getting hard to stand. Toji leaned over onto the couch again, lips parted and brow furrowed. Distantly, he was aware he was panting. A little bit of drool pooled in his mouth, dripping out the corner of it and onto the cushions. Disgusting. He tried to move his arm to wipe it away. It didn’t budge an inch.

His organs feel like they’re moving.

“Dad?”

Toji tries to reply. He feels his lips move to form a response, but no air comes out. Megumi sets the perfume bottle aside on a table, carefully moving beside him. Hesitantly, he touches his side. Toji doesn’t move an inch. He’s slack-jawed, entire frame hunched over the couch and expression vacant. His breathing is laboured. It sounds like there’s something rattling inside of his chest, clamouring and trying to break free.

“Dad!” Megumi pushes Toji’s side. He doesn’t even know what he’s trying to do. He just wants to see him move again. He’s never seen him this still before.

Something twitches beneath the skin of Toji’s abdomen. His whole body contracts violently, and he tries to retch, but nothing comes out. He can’t breath anymore. Fuck. Toji actually can’t breathe. A sharp dart of panic races down his spine at the realization. Megumi’s watching him too. He tries to shout, to tell him to call emergency services, but nothing comes out besides a brittle sounding squeak. Toji’s throat is completely blocked. With what? With what?

Something squirms in his gut. Living. Toji shudders violently, retching again. That something crawls up his throat. He’s sure his face is turning blue by this point. Megumi’s pushing at his sides is just as insistent, and he hears his panicked voice growing more and more distant. Things are getting dangerous. Toji can last a while without air, longer than most people can, but it’s been a few minutes. His legs are getting weak. Spots are floating in his vision. He sinks to his knees, half collapsing onto the couch, pupils blown wide.

Megumi has never seen his father look powerless before. Somehow, it’s worse than anything else.

The worm.

Cursed spirits are born of negative emotions and fear. The leaked cursed energy of non sorcerers given form- that’s what they’re made out of, and hence they lack reproductive cycles. Curses don’t breed. And yet there’s only one explanation for what could be happening right now. Toji hasn’t found any other traces. Megumi would have sensed one if it was close enough to be a threat. Briefly, he wonders if this is how he’ll die. Collapsed motionless on his couch, inches away from his son, choking to death from god knows what. Toji wheezed quietly. He can’t let that happen. It’s too fucking stupid. Megumi would have nowhere to go, and even though he knows none of this is ideal, there’s always a worse reality.

Toji’s stomach heaved again. A burning pressure began to build in the back of his throat, like something was tearing it open from the inside. His eyes stung with tears. The thing inside of him moved upwards, crawling, inching up through his esophagus inch by inch. He prayed it wouldn’t tear. There would be nothing he could do if that happened. Megumi would be left in his apartment with a corpse he wouldn’t know what to do with. That thought makes him retch once more. The burning grows stronger, and a little bit of bile dribbles out the corner of his mouth, staining the couch cushions. Toji’s jaw felt like it was being pried open by some kind of vice. The bones in it creaked dangerously. For a second he wondered if it’ll dislocate. At least then it wouldn’t be so hard to get this thing out of him.

“Dad. Dad! Spit it out!”

Megumi must be seeing its ugly little face, Toji thought dazedly, his oxygen supply rapidly dwindling. Any second now and he’d just pass out, face down into the couch cushion. From there, nothing could be done. He weighed too much for Megumi to move him so much as an inch. Toji felt the horrible thing forcing its way out of his throat, face poking between his lips and forcing his tongue flat down. But it was stuck. However it had gotten in there, it couldn’t get out. Toji’s arm twitched up, barely able to move, and he tried to get a grip on the thing to pull it out, but it was coated in bile and spit. He couldn’t get any kind of grip on it.

Toji closed his eyes. There were still tears in them. He didn’t want Megumi to see that.

“Dad.” His son’s voice was brittle and shaky. “You have to spit it out, dad. Come on. Please. Please spit it out.” Megumi nudges him weakly, trying to shake his shoulders. Toji is impossibly heavy. Probably more than five times as big as Megumi is. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Megumi form the sign for Nue. Rather than attacking him, the small shikigami tries to push him with Megumi. Their combined strength still doesn’t budge him. Now Toji’s really panicking- he can feel the upper body of the worm in his mouth, but its tail and lower body are still in his stomach and esophagus. His whole torso burns with the combination of inner pressure and bile burning a hole in his insides.

There was still one thing he could try.

Toji has never tried something like this. Certainly not with Megumi there, ready to witness something kids should never have to see. But he’s got less than a minute until he passes out, so with shaking hands, he reaches to his side, where he keeps one of his weapons. A long, barbed knife. He raised it to his opened jaw, and Megumi must have know what he was going to do, because he screamed loudly, him and Nue both lunging for it to try and knock it out of his hand. Toji brushed them aside with his free arm. He heard Megumi fall down and begin to cry again, but he had no time to look. Eyes closed, Toji plunged the knife into his mouth and into the body of the worm.

Immediately, the awful thing writhed, and he could feel its full body twisting within his guts. Some residual leaked out into Toji’s mouth. The taste was acrid, so foul that Toji’s entire body contracted numerous times, more bile dripping onto the couch. He grasped the handle of the knife, and as he was heaving, yanked the worm forwards with all his strength. Bit by bit. Segment by segment. It was longer than he remembered, which wasn’t even the most disgusting part of all of this. It was the fact that Toji could feel its full body emerge, centimetre by centimetre, as he slowly dragged out of him.

“What is that?” Megumi sounds terrified. He doesn’t have the courage to approach Toji anymore. Toji wants to respond, to have some kind of definitive answer, but in truth, he only knows that it’s a curse, and nothing else.

Finally, Toji pries the rest of its slimy, squirming body out of his mouth. It landed on the couch, still impaled on the knife. He inhaled deeply, chest rattling. For a moment or two, he said nothing. He only laid there, breathing weakly, lips torn and bleeding. Megumi and Nue carefully crept over to the worm. It looked rather dead- curled up on the couch and still leaking residual. Toji’s knife had lodged right between its eyes, mounted out of its skull like a grotesque little horn. Hesitantly, Megumi poked its eyelid. It twitched open, and he shrieked, stepping back. Nue instinctively moved between the two of them, puffing up its scruffy little feathers and spreading its wings to shield Megumi.

Toji slowly rolled onto his side. His throat was beyond raw- a combination of the severe stretch and the bile that lingered in his esophagus for so long. He swore he could feel his flesh bubbling and scarring inside him by the second. At least the worst of it has passed. He’d be fine from here on out. Whether Megumi will recover from the sight is another question. Toji grunted. The worm still wasn’t dead. Matter of fact, how the hell did it not get digested, if it came out of his stomach?

Nue’s feathers bristled, cracking with electricity. Though it wasn’t yet big enough to provide a significant shock to a human, it could deliver a nasty sting to something smaller. It screeched again, jumping onto the worm, discharging the shock through the metal of Toji’s knife. The worm made an ugly, wet, gurgling noise. It began to inch away from Nue, but the shikigami hopped up on top of it, digging into its slippery body with its claws. Megumi is frozen in place, confused and scared. Toji can’t blame him. For a moment there, he wondered if he really would choke to death on it.

He reached for the knife in its forehead, about to finish it off, before he hesitated. The last time he “killed” it with one of these, it somehow ended up inside of him. He doesn’t know what technique it has, and the last thing he wants to do is vomit up a second worm. Toji nudges Nue off of it with one arm. It hisses, but doesn’t try to attack him after what happened the last time.

“You’re one ugly fucker, aren’t you?” Toji pried the knife out of its forehead. It writhed again, spreading a mixture of bile and mucus over the couch. Disgusting. More residual dribbled from the wound.

What the hell is he supposed to do with this thing?

“Dad?” Megumi takes a shaky step closer to the worm. Nue is perched on his shoulders, wings spread and crackling with electricity. “Are you okay?”

Toji doesn’t know what to say. Automatically, he mutters a near silent “Yeah,” wiping the knife off on his pants. The worm isn’t moving any longer, but it hasn’t disintegrated, so it hasn’t been exorcised yet. Toji nudges Megumi out of the way, shakily rising to his feet. Every breath he takes burns, but at least he’s upright again, leaning over the worm. He never looked at it too closely before. All he remembered was its colour- dark purple, like rotting, necrotic flesh, and its face, like that of a human infant, but with far more bulbous eyes. Standard fare for a curse. He’s never seen one that looked remotely natural. There were small, hooked looking protrusions on its legs, and Toji felt himself recoil slightly. That was what hurt his throat so much. Open wounds and his own stomach acid.

He went to grab it, and it turned to face him, sluggishly. Toji’s hand curled into a fist. He’d throw up this worm again before it got to Megumi. The worm’s lips part. Toji pushes Megumi backwards a bit, in case it spat something. Instead, it made a few sounds. Vaguely like human speech, but garbled, before eventually, it said something that sent a horrible, unpleasant chill through him.

“Mommy?”

Notes:

Funny how I’ve taken a break from porn to impulsively write a 17 chapter fic. The creative gods simultaneously smile and spit upon me

Chapter 5: MIDDAY

Notes:

I cannot believe that I’ve taken a break from my porn to write what could possibly be a small novel. Is this embarrassing?

Toji is no mother. He doesn’t nurture, he doesn’t do housework, and most blatantly of all, he’s not a woman. He stared down at the worm, lip curled in revulsion, unsure of what to say or what to do. The worm stared back. It blinked, slowly, and Toji could hear its eyelids open and shut with a sound that could only be described as disturbingly wet and slimy. “What the hell.” He muttered, unable to say anything else. The worm blinked at him again. Its eyes lacked pupils and were a milky white colour. It was probably blind. That made sense. Worms didn’t have eyes normally, right?

“Mommy?” It asked again, voice somewhat more clear. The worm wiggled its stubby little limbs, hooking its tiny claws into the bile stained couch to pull itself towards Toji. At least it was completely ignoring Megumi for the time being. Toji would take the victories where he could get them by this point.

“Do I look like a woman to you?” Toji snapped. Some part of him can’t believe that he’s arguing with a worm curse he just threw up. In his own apartment. In front of his son, for fuck’s sake. What has the world come to? This has got to be the stupidest thing that’s ever happened to him, and Toji’s not exactly short on those.

The worm, of course, didn’t respond. It blinked slowly again, closing its eyes. Toji’s really starting to hate that sound. Perhaps that choice of words was a little too complex for it, or perhaps it was well and truly blind. Toji had no way of knowing. It wasn’t like he was going to sit down and interview the damn thing. He wanted it far away from him and Megumi. Whatever it had done to avoid death and instead grow anew in his stomach, he doesn’t want to know the gross details. Only enough to prevent it from happening ever again.

“Dad?” Megumi isn’t even sure what he’s asking. He stepped closer, still wary of the slimy, lumpy looking thing on the couch. Toji turned towards him, scarred lip twitching slightly in annoyance. He took a deep inhale.

Relax, Toji.

“Don’t get any closer, Megumi. And don’t let any of your shikigami loose, got it?”

“How come?”

Toji sighed again. He barely had the patience for this. “It’s complicated, Megumi. I’m not going to try and explain it to you yet. Right now I have to decide what to do with it.” Toji cautiously reached his hand downward, moving it in front of the worm’s face. It didn’t budge an inch, and continued to look up at him with that same stupid expression. Toji suppressed the urge to wrap his hands around it and crush it into a thin pulp.

“Okay. Can I go play in your room now?” Toji would have normally said no. But for now, he had few options.

“Yeah, fine. Leave my drawers alone, and don’t take anything you’re not supposed to.” Megumi grinned. He ran off, Nue still perched on his shoulders. Toji knew damn well that there would be something to clean up, but right now he had bigger priorities. Like figuring out what to do with the curse, for one. He doesn’t want it to stay in his apartment, because even a lower grade like this would soak up his general misery and potentially grow stronger. Toji has made it a policy of his to do as little work as he has to. It’s saved his hide more than once.

“Do you even understand me?” What a stupid question. Toji doesn’t expect the worm to respond, and he’s never felt so thoroughly humiliated.

“Gllghhrhhrsh.”

Wow. This thing has somehow mastered the art of sounding like it’s being actively waterboarded. Toji hated it so much already. He decided that a quicker approach would be better, damn the risk. So long as he doesn’t kill it, it should be fine. Right? Toji’s hand lunged down, and he pinned the worm to the couch, before wrapping both hands around its body and holding the whole thing up. The worm immediately writhed. Slime trickled out between Toji’s fingers in an alarming volume, dripping onto the couch and the floor. The worm continued to struggle. Toji tightened his grip in a bid to keep it still, but eventually, it was impossible to hold onto, and quite literally slipped through his fingers and plopped onto the floor with a noise one might expect to be produced if you did the same with an overlarge slug.

Its body contracted, and it began to crawl away for no apparent reason. Since it was still coated in slime, it couldn’t get much traction on the floor, and ended up squirming in place. “No, Mommy!”

Toji groaned. He knelt down next to it, pointing directly at the still weeping wound in its forehead. “I’m not your mother. Don’t call me that.”

“Daddy?” The worm asked.

That was almost as bad, actually.

“I’m not your parent at all,” Toji hissed. “I’m not raising you. You need to leave me alone.” The worm cocked its slimy head. Apparently that was too much for it to take in. He resisted the urge to step on it. Usually Toji could just kill something and be done with it, or leave it behind, but in this case, he really had no other choice. It was already in his house, and if he tossed it out a window, who knows what would happen. Not to mention that Megumi was here. If this thing grew in his stomach, it would…it would…

Hollow him out entirely.

Toji may love to gamble, but that was one risk he wasn’t keen on taking. Frustrated, he exhaled sharply, reaching down to the worm to pinch its cheek. The texture of its flesh was just shy of human, like smooth, slick, silicone. He withdrew his fingers shortly after, an expression of disgust on his face. “Talking to you is stupid,” Toji muttered. “Do you even know how to say anything else?” He poked the worm again. It tilted its head rather quickly considering just how sluggish it was before, and nudged its face against Toji’s palm. Kind of like a really ugly cat trying to nuzzle.

“I killed you.” He mutters, incredulous. Unsure of what else to say. The worm, naturally, didn’t reply. It didn’t even move. Despite the fact that it resisted being picked up, it’s now…what, cuddling him? None of this made any sense, and Toji doesn’t even want to consider the idea that it sees him as a parent now because he “gave birth” or something. He’s not a woman. Only women give birth. Toji inhaled deeply, desperately trying to calm himself down so he wouldn’t crush the damn thing out of instinct.

Eugh, there’s even more slime all over his palm. Toji pulls his hand back, and the worm makes a noise that sounds almost dejected before it flops its head down onto the floor, not moving. Toji wished it died spontaneously with no trace to be found, but alas, it was still there, breathing. He glanced down at his palms. Sticky, clear fluid was spread across them, making it impossible to touch anything in his apartment without either leaving a gross stain or having it slip between his fingers. Awkwardly, Toji backed up to the kitchen sink, still keeping his full gaze on the worm. Even though it had been nothing but sluggish since he got it out of him, he was convinced it was hiding something else.

To distract himself, Toji turned on the water. Once it ran hot, he stuck his hands into the sink, trying to scrub off the slime. The water ran right off of it, as though it were oil. Toji dug his nails into his palms, scrubbing furiously, trying to peel the slime off. They only scuffed against his skin, slipping and sliding around. Toji was quickly becoming angry again. He scrubbed harder, to the point that red lines were being left. It wasn’t until his nail caught the edge of the poorly made stitches from a day or so earlier and partially tore them that he became aware of what he was doing.

“Ffffuuckkkkk.”

A small bit of pus oozed from the now reopened wound. Might as well go all the way. Toji pressed on the skin surrounding it, watching with disgusted fascination as a few more blobs of pus were coaxed out of the cut. They dropped into the sink, one after the other. Toji rinsed it. The rest of the stitching wasn’t going to hold now, anyways. He pinched the end between his fingers, pulling it out slowly but surely. He set the piece of string beside the sink, going back to trying to wash the slime off without getting anything in his now open wound.

Open wound.

Wait a damn minute. Toji had killed that curse, came home, not washed his hands, then gotten cut on that beer bottle. Then he treated it the next day. Cleaned it, stitched it up, and everything. Besides, how could residual travel through his blood and into his stomach-

Oh.

Right. Toji licked the slightest bit of pus off the needle earlier. Apparently, stomach acid wasn’t strong enough to dissolve residuals…and he’s never doing that again. Toji felt like a complete idiot. One foggy hungover day was enough to have him making a choice that almost killed him. He kicked the cabinet beneath the sink sharply out of frustration, unable to take it anymore. The wood splinters and broke around his foot, caving inwards like the shell of an egg. Pieces of the wood jabbed Toji’s ankle, and he swore loudly, hobbling a few steps forwards.

He sat down rather heavily on the kitchen floor. Today…just wasn’t going his way. Now he’s trying to pluck increasingly small chunks of cabinet out of his legs and feet with slime on his hands. Not to mention the now open wound that the slime is slowly inching towards each time Toji tilts his hand at any angle. The result is that he has to hold that hand out to keep it level, as if he were holding an invisible platter of some kind. He’s never felt more like an idiot. If he survives the rest of today, he’ll have a beer. As a treat.

Out of the corner of his eye, Toji watched the worm slowly inching towards him. A trail of slime followed it. Great. Add that to the list of things Toji will have to clean up once he unfucks whatever’s happening at the present moment. “Can’t you just stay still?” He grunted, flicking another bloody splinter of wood off to the side. There were many more beneath his skin, most of which he would have to dig out painstakingly slowly with a tweezer later. The worm stopped briefly, tilting its misshapen little head. For a moment Toji almost hoped it would listen to him. It then began to drag itself along his floor again, tracking grossness wherever it went. At least Megumi wasn’t here to investigate (and most likely play in it.)

“That’s close enough.” The worm is now perhaps an arm’s length away from Toji. He glared at it even more intensely than before, but given that its swollen eyelids were now almost completely closed, it had little effect. Toji tosses a splinter he plucked out at it. It bounces off of its face and clatters to the floor, and the worm barely reacts. All it does is reach its stubby little limbs out, grab the piece, and…it swallows it whole. Like a snake. Toji makes a face. This thing couldn’t get any grosser, even by cursed spirit standards.

The worm begins to move towards him again. What good was having a worm call you “mommy” if it wouldn’t even listen to you like a kid would? Toji thought that in particular was bullshit. Even Megumi, who regularly sent his shikigami after him when he was in a bad mood, listened to him most of the time. All this thing did was slide around on his floor, stain his couch, and track near uncleanable slime everywhere.

“Help mommy?” it gurgled, stopping at Toji’s feet, looking up at him like an especially mutated pet. In fact it could almost be considered cute, if you were that type of person. Toji Fushiguro was not that kind of person. He once again considered the deep urge to step on its soft little body and watch it ooze everywhere. “I’m not your fucking mother. Stop calling me that.” He nudged it sharply.

Immediately after, the worm vomited the piece of wood back up onto his foot.

Toji Fushiguro had a lot of patience. More than one might expect, given his personality and tendency to snap over stupid things. Unfortunately, the worm had completely exhausted it, because Toji immediately reached down, grabbing it by its neck, before he threw it to the other end of his apartment down the hall. It smacked against the far window with a wet plap noise, before sliding down it excruciatingly slowly, leaving a large smear. He sighed loudly.

Megumi, having ignored the loud sound of the cabinet breaking (his dad was always breaking something,) finally peeked his head out of Toji’s room. He was greeted by the sight of his dad covered in slime, a bit of blood, and completely out of sorts. And of course the worm on the floor. Uncomfortably close to him too. It wasn’t moving. Was it dead? Megumi reached down cautiously, hand hovering over its purple skin. He poked it with one finger, and it twitched. Megumi withdrew his hand as though it burned him, scurrying away to hide behind the door of Toji’s room. “Dad?” His voice was a bit muffled.

“What do you want?” Toji’s already walking down the hall towards the worm, completely exasperated. He’ll have to spend a whole day cleaning up after everything, let alone finding out what he could do with this thing.

“What is that?”

“I don’t know, Megumi, but it’s fucking annoying.” He grumbles, reaching down to grab the worm with his uninjured hand. The worm made a pleased noise, despite having just been thrown like a sack of rice moments before. It wrapped around Toji’s arm, startlingly quickly considering how sluggish it had been earlier. Almost like a snake, really. The squeeze was quickly becoming uncomfortable. Thankfully it wasn’t too hard to slide off, given just how slimy it still was.

“Should we give it a bath? It’s gross.”

Of course Megumi would think of that. Toji huffed weakly. Giving a cursed spirit a bath! That’s got to be the stupidest thing he’s ever heard in his whole life, actually. And yet. The thing has called him mommy how many times now? It’s low grade, it had to be. The stronger the spirit, the larger and more human it looks in most cases. Toji doubts this thing is an exception. He also doubts it has the intellect to create this elaborate of a ruse. Not to mention the fact that it nuzzled him earlier. Or that it was trying to wrap around his arm just now. Toji groaned. He couldn’t believe he was agreeing with this.

“What the hell, kid. Let’s give it a bath.” Toji had given up on trying to keep surfaces clean anyways. Maybe eliminating the source of the slime would make life a bit easier.

“Can I wash Nue, too?” Megumi sounded a little too excited about the prospect. Nue, on the other hand, clicked nervously and shifted about behind him, subtly trying to sneak back off into Toji’s room. Megumi scooped it up into his arms. Its wings fizzled with suppressed electrical current.

“If you want to electrocute yourself, sure, by all means.” Toji snorted. “But seriously, kid, don’t. I have enough messes to clean up.” He stepped into the bathroom, Megumi following close behind. It’s not particularly clean in here either, and Toji really should have wiped down the tub ages ago. This worm doesn’t deserve the luxury of having Toji clean up after it, and here he is, doing it anyways. Mostly because he can’t think of anything else that would work. Toji grabbed the faucet, turning it. It’s been a while since he’s run a bath. Usually he just showers. Damn, it would have been the last time he had Megumi stay a few nights.

The faucet sputtered a bit. Probably some air in the pipes. A second later, and warm water flowed out of it, filling the tub. Nue hated the sound it made, clearly, because it dispeled itself immediately, melting into a heap of shadow at Megumi’s feet. He muttered a quiet “aw” of disappointment under his breath. He recovered quickly, though. “Can I touch it?”

This kid. Sometimes Toji doesn’t know how he manages it all.

“No.” Toji began to peel the worm off of his arm again, dropping it into the bathtub. It flailed a little, trying to hook its short little claws into the sides of it. However, it had little to no traction, and merely slid down pathetically into the water whenever it tried to escape. “It’s gross, Megumi. You can grab the soap for me, though-“ Toji is cut off by the worm flicking its tail hard enough to splash water directly into his face. Some of it ends up in his nose, and he exhales sharply. This was going to be even more obnoxious than washing Megumi back when he was a toddler.

“Here.” Megumi places a block of bar soap directly into Toji’s hand, slapping it over top of the still open cut on his palm. He hissed, trying not to make a big deal out of it. Megumi still noticed, however.

“What’s that, Dad?”

“None of your business, Megumi. If you want to help, you can grab a bandage out of the drawer.” He could do this one handed. Probably. Even though he’s covered in slime, Toji knows that if the worm can’t get any traction in the water either, it’s in the same position as him. Awkwardly, he ran the bar of soap over its skin. Nothing remarkable happened. Toji wasn’t sure what he was expecting to happen when it came to the idea of washing down a curse, but this wasn’t it. Hell, the worm almost looked to be enjoying itself in some way now. It butted its head lightly against Toji’s wrist, nuzzling him and almost chasing the bat of soap.

Right. It was blind. Toji doubted it had a concept of being washed off for practical reasons, too. The worm probably mistook this for being pet. It was almost sad, really, but Toji didn’t linger on the thought. He wasn’t planning on keeping this thing. Only housing it for as little time as he could, cleaning up, and depositing it somewhere far, far away where he’d never have to think about it again.

Toji’s never met a problem he couldn’t solve with violence, and perhaps a part of him is frustrated by it.

“Dad, what’s a first aid kit?” Right. He should have known that Megumi wouldn’t know what that is.

“Red box. Should be bandages in there.” Toji sets the bar soap aside. The worm is now absolutely lathered, its skin covered in a thin film of bubbles over the slime. He stared down at it for a moment, unsure of how to proceed. Its earlier wounds have closed. It seems relatively unharmed for being thrown at the wall hard enough to leave an imprint. Maybe it had some kind of regenerative cursed technique, in addition to whatever the hell it did to end up in his stomach?

“Hand, Dad!” Megumi sounded entirely pleased about being able to play doctor. Even though he can’t fix whatever the thing in the bath is, he can fix his dad’s cut. Reluctantly, Toji held out his hand. In the first aid kit was a set of more childish themed band-aids that had barely seen use, mostly when Megumi scratched himself with a shikigami or skinned his knee. Proudly, Megumi peeled the paper off of a blue and green one, sticking it haphazardly over Toji’s cut. What protection it would actually provide for someone who’s hand was far larger than intended for this kind, who knows. Toji said nothing sarcastic for once.

“Thank you, Megumi.” He went back to attempting to scrub the slime off of the worm. Megumi giggled a little behind him. “You’re welcome!” He then scurried back off to the sink, presumably to go looking through the drawers for other things to entertain himself with. Toji couldn’t blame him. Watching your dad wash a worm he threw up and nearly choked to death on an hour ago can’t be the most thrilling activity. Even if it was your idea in the first place.

The worm leaned its horrible little face into Toji’s hands each time he washes a little more slime off. It made a content gurgling noise. Is he seriously giving in to the whims of a curse here? How far has he stooped? Toji grumbled a little. Gelatinous chunks of slime gradually came free from its body with the soap, floating around in the bath water. Every time Toji’s fingers brushed against one, he cringed. It was like jellyfish. Only far more gross and not remotely interesting to look at. He could probably let Megumi play with some. He’d get a kick out of it for sure, but Toji isn’t about to collect curse slime just so his kid can mess around with it. Who knows if it could cause any more harm.

“Glllhhhrrrrrrrmmmmmp.”

“Shut up.”

Notes:

Fushiguro family dynamics…I can’t wait to write more.

Chapter 6: 1:00 PM

The worm liked getting bathed and handled by Toji far too much, in his opinion. It made all manner of weird cooing noises, leaning into his hands, and butting its head against his wrists. Toji wanted to scream at it. He wasn’t doing this because he liked it, or god forbid, was somehow accepting that he was its mother, but because it was gross and nasty and had tracked slime absolutely everywhere in his house. Unfortunately this thing didn’t quite seem to understand. Of course it didn’t.

Megumi was rummaging around in his drawers behind him. For once, Toji couldn’t bring himself to care or scold him. There was nothing he could think of that would be actively dangerous. Unless he started eating random medicine. There was always that. Toji would like to think that he’d taught Megumi not to do that by now.

To be sure, he turned around, glancing over his shoulder. “Don’t eat anything.” He went back to washing the worm. Now, its slime coat had been almost entirely removed, floating around in chunks in the bath water. Disgusting. Toji withdrew his hands, drying them off on a towel. His knees were starting to hurt from the tile by this point. Toji stood up, stretching. The worm made a discontented noise, wiggling around in the bathwater and trying to find his hands again to no avail. It gave up rather quickly.

Blorp. The worm had placed itself face down in the tub. Toji stared at it, incredulous, before scowling, reaching down with both hands to grab it by the midsection, lifting it out of the tub. It flailed its tiny limbs for a moment, tail thrashing as it tried to gain any kind of grip. Toji held it out like a naughty cat so that it couldn’t coil around his arm again. Just the skin texture on this thing was nasty and unnatural. Unfortunately, succeeding in one aspect inevitably meant failure in another, because as the worm thrashed, some residual slime and soapy water was flung onto Toji’s shirt and into his face.

Wonderful.

“Megumi, go get a towel.” The worm flicked more water into his face. Some of it got in his mouth, and Toji gagged.

“Okay.” He pulled the only towel there was off of the wall- Toji’s. He carried it over his head like a cloak, spikes of black hair peeking out from under it as he looked up at him. Toji didn’t have the patience to play any sort of make-believe at present, so he reached down, grabbing the towel and pulling it away quickly. He must have ended up grabbing a fistful of Megumi’s hair too, because he screamed a little, stumbling backwards and bumping into the sink. Toji felt a little bit guilty. Only a little bit. He had to focus on the worm for now.

“Sorry.” He grunted. Megumi didn’t appear to care about the apology. He sat down beside the sink to sulk, his tiny arms crossed over his chest. Whatever. Toji could deal with that later. He tossed the worm down, uncaring to the alarmed chirp it made, wrapping it completely in his towel. Only its head poked out at the end. Like a really weird burrito, come to think of it. Oddly enough, this type of restraint didn’t seem to agitate it. The worm went completely still, relaxing and going limp in Toji’s arms. Scowling, he tucked it over his shoulder, keeping it secure with one hand as he reached over to drain the tub. The slime filled water made him cringe again. Yeah, that’ll definitely fuck up some part of the Tokyo sewer system, but it wasn’t Toji’s job to fix.

Megumi is still tucked away by the sink. He wasn’t crying, but his head was tilted down, and his lip is set in a small pout. Toji groaned internally. This has got to be the worst part about looking after a kid. They just don’t understand that you can’t keep them at the centre of attention all the time. (Not that Toji pays much attention to Megumi anyways.) He doesn’t know what to say to him. What, is he supposed to ask him what’s wrong? Toji already knows what the problem is.

His wife made it look so easy. So effortless.

Toji grits his teeth a little. He doesn’t want to think about that right now, not when he’s going to have to spend the rest of the day wiping up bile and slime practically everywhere. Not to mention digging the remaining splinters out of his ankle. It’s a full afternoon right there. And he’ll have to book another sitter for Megumi soon.

“Dad?” Megumi’s voice breaks him out of his mental tasking. Toji glances down at him to see that Megumi’s scared, pressed up against the sink, looking up at him. For fuck’s sake.

“What.”

“Are you okay?” Megumi wants him to be okay. Desperately. He wants it to all be okay. When his father’s in a better mood, nothing bad will happen.

“I guess.” That’s not the answer he was hoping for. It’s plain on Megumi’s face. Toji sighs. He doesn’t know how to manage any of this kind of stuff. The touchy-feely part of parenting was always his wife’s job. Megumi looks down at the floor, a little bit dejected. He mumbles a small “okay.” Toji sighed. He knew he should do something about it, but it’s a little hard to figure out how to comfort your son when there’s a worm wrapped in a towel over your shoulder, and all you can think about is how messy your apartment is. And how much worse it’s getting with you just leaving it there. He goes to pat Megumi on the head. To offer some semblance of comfort. Megumi instinctually raises his hands in defence, unsure if Toji’s going to grab him accidentally or on purpose again.

That’s a sobering visual. Toji withdraws his hand. Fuck. Why did this have to be so hard? Wasn’t it supposed to be an instinct thing that you didn’t have to think about? And Toji has been doing an awful lot more thinking than he’d like to do recently. All because of that stupid worm.

“…just go play, or whatever.” Toji made a dismissive hand gesture. He stepped out of the bathroom, still carrying the worm. Megumi stayed there for a minute or two. Waiting. Watching. He didn’t even know what he was waiting or watching for. There was a small rock in the pit of his stomach that grew bigger every time he saw his dad, and he didn’t know why that was. Or where it came from in the first place. Nue made it go away for a little while, but it always came back. Hungry. Gnawing. Wanting to be noticed and paid attention to.

Unlike his dad, Megumi rather liked thinking. It was all he could do a lot of the time when he was left unattended or a sitter had some chores to get done. But much like his father, thinking a little too much was scary for him. So, he wandered out of the bathroom. Down the hall. Past the stain of slime on the window where the worm had landed. Right into his room.

Perhaps calling it his room was a stretch. Really, it was just a spare closet that Toji had converted to look like one in a few days. There were still shelves on the walls with a scarce few belongings. They were all too high for Megumi to grab. He can’t remember the last time he was in here. Megumi plopped down on the hard floor next to the small air mattress, forming the sign for Nue. It peeled itself out of the expansive shadows on the walls, hopping across the floor and landing in his lap to perch. Megumi busied himself by running his hands through its feathers. Nue made a content, gravelly noise, its wings folding as it completely nestled down.

Like a pillow that loved you, really.

Everywhere Megumi went, there was a lot of waiting. It was why he read, and why he thought. He had few other ways to pass the time. He leaned back, halfway onto his bed, trying to make out more shapes in the shadows on the walls. Maybe one day he would meet another shikigami- then he wouldn’t be by himself as much. Nue chittered quietly, its eyes wide open and glowing subtly in the dark. How long it would be until his dad called him for something else, he didn’t know. Megumi would just have to wait some more. Until something, anything, changed.

Meanwhile, Toji was trying (rather unsuccessfully) to wipe the half dried slime off of the window. He never bothered to buy strong cleaning products because there was little to clean. Even if he wasn’t the cleanest person, it wasn’t like he was actively wiping his own sweat and blood everywhere. The worm had been suspiciously still the whole time. Toji didn’t want to move around too much, lest it be disturbed. The result was him scrubbing at the window as gingerly as possible with a cloth soaked in water and vinegar.

To say it was ineffective would be an understatement. The vinegar mixed in with the leftover slime, forming a thick and unpleasant froth on the window. Not to mention that it was smearing everywhere. Because of course it was. Why wouldn’t it be? Quite literally nothing had gone right for Toji today, so why not add another to that list. His brow twitched in irritation, and he resisted the urge to put his fist through the window. A broken cabinet was easy enough to hide, but a broken window would get him in deep shit with the landlord.

Damn it.

Instead, Toji flung the towel down on the ground. It smacked against the floorboards with a surprisingly loud plack. The worm, which had likely fallen asleep, jerked awake, twitching and fussing like a toddler. Toji had about enough of taking care of this thing. Of taking care of anything but himself, really. It had only been a day, but his patience wasn’t recovering much at all. What he needed was a few beers and a night to himself again where he could forget absolutely every single responsibility he had ever needed to take care of in his whole life, but noooo, people depended on him. And this worm, apparently. Toji couldn’t wait to take a train out of the city and put it somewhere that it would never be able to get to him again.

His towel dropped to the floor. The worm had freed itself, apparently, now clinging to the back of his shirt with its tail end wrapped around his waist. Toji sighed heavily, bending down to pick up the cloth. He resumed scrubbing at the window, much more vigorously this time, so hard that he could feel the panel shaking in place beneath his hand. The slime had formed numerous streaks on the window. Wiping it was basically just smearing it around by this point. Toji grumbled a few choice swear words under his breath, stomping back to the sink to stick the cloth under some hot water. The slime, once heated, bubbled and pooled like water drops once more, seeping out of the cloth in thick, gelatinous bubbles. They slunk down the drain, one after the other.

Gross.

Toji poured a generous helping of soap onto the warm cloth, squeezing it and wringing it out, before he walked back to the window.

Faintly, from under the door of his room, Megumi could hear the rattling. In the dark he had no way to know what it was. His dad was always breaking something, pushing something around, being rough. He kept petting Nue, eyes focused on the infinite darkness of the ceiling. If he focused, he could see the shapes of snakes in it. Slithering, moving as a singular mass, one over the other until an individual couldn’t be picked out.

He wondered what they would do with the worm. Dad hadn’t bothered to tell him what it was. Megumi had been seeing things longer than his dad has- all manner of weird looking things hanging off of people’s shoulders, perching on trains, or gathered together on street corners. Some had even been in his sitters houses. Nue hated them, and he always found it fun to watch it chase them down. But they were no animals he knew of. Try as he might; there were no books he’d found yet that documented any of them.

Megumi continued to wonder. The snakes in the ceiling kept on moving, and he wondered if they would fall on him.

It took Toji half an hour and many more trips to the sink to clean off that window. The worm fell asleep again, still hooked into his shirt like a parasite. He supposed it wasn’t a stretch to call it one. In a way, all cursed spirits were parasites, feeding off of humanity’s negative emotions. He was fairly certain that he’d fed it plenty today, between the frustration and the pent up violent urges. Perhaps that was why it was so sluggish now. That, or it had gotten comfortable around him again. He didn’t know which bothered him more.

The couch was unsalvageable, suffice it to say. Bile from earlier had long since soaked in and dried, leaving crusty, discoloured patches on the cushions. His whole living room smelled like sweat and vomit. Earlier, he hadn’t noticed the blood. He was too busy trying not to choke to death. It was on there too, dark and crumbling stains mixed in with the vomit. Toji had managed to get the top layer off, but now his couch was completely wet and still full of…well, pretty much every single bodily fluid he could produce, actually. He wouldn’t be sitting on that for a while, and even if he somehow got it fully cleaned, Toji doubted he’d be able to relax on it ever again, not without thinking of the worm.

At least he managed to clean off the floor. The slime didn’t soak into the hardwood, nor did it smear too much. He’d take the small victories. Last was the bloody splinters he’d left next to the broken cabinet. He picked them up one at a time, depositing them in the garbage. Really, it looked like a crime scene in here. Toji was once again glad that he had no one who cared enough to check up on his living habits. This would be a bitch to explain to anyone.

Now that he wasn’t actively working on something, the thoughts came back. Annoyingly. What was he going to do with this damn thing? It was getting to be later in the day. Rush hour had came and went, and now, it was about time to feed Megumi. He opened his fridge. Basically nothing inside of it but the beer he bought a day ago, a few cheeses, condiments, and cold, uncooked tofu. Well. Impromptu grocery run it is.

Knock knock.

“Kid? You in there?”

Megumi doesn’t respond for a few moments, still lost in the snakes. He tilts his head up. Words feel sticky and heavy at the moment.

Toji has been working his patience a little too hard. He opens the door, blinking in the darkness. Nue’s glowing eyes sharpen, focusing on the worm wrapped around Toji. It hissed, wings crackling with electricity again as it prepared to attack them both. Megumi wrapped his arms around it, keeping it pressed close against his chest like a stuffed toy. Nue just barely tolerated the action. Its wings fizzled, and soon, the current disappeared. “It’s okay,” Megumi muttered. Nue didn’t seem convinced, but it doesn’t try to break his hold either.

“We’re going to get dinner.” Toji stated, turning around and gesturing vaguely for Megumi to follow him.

“Are we going out?” Megumi can barely contain his excitement. Toji never went out for food before.

“Yeah. And a few other things. Mostly for this.” Toji jerked a thumb in the direction of the still-asleep worm. It looked rather peaceful like that- uncannily human face aside. Megumi could almost imagine that it was a pet of some kind, like Nue, if he didn’t remember how it got here.

“We’re keeping it?”

“I don’t know, kid. But I’m not letting it stay in my room, and it’s too late to take it and put it somewhere else.” Toji grabbed a handful of cash out of the drawer. Money was running low. He made a mental note to check for any recent job postings, and set aside a small pile of it for the next sitter. Fuck, he had no clue what he was doing. At all. Toji hated that feeling. He shoved it down as far as he could, squeezing it into a pulp until he was sure that it wouldn’t uncoil later.

“Let’s go.” Not wanting to wait for Megumi’s meandering little footsteps, Toji reached down, grabbing Nue with one hand. He tossed it carelessly to the side, and it spun through the air before turning back into shadows. “Hey-“ Megumi could barely even get the protest out before Toji lifted him over his shoulder, opposite to the worm. From up here, Megumi could see the thing in startlingly clear detail. He didn’t like that, and squirmed, kicking a little, trying to get away from it.

“Megumi, quit moving.” Toji hissed. “You walk too slow, and the shop’s going to close before we get there if I don’t carry you.”

“I don’t like this,” Megumi goes limp. That’s easier to manage, at the least. Toji walked down the stairwell of his apartment building. The one person who sees him decides not to comment on his parenting strategy. Good for them. Toji wasn’t sure if he’d put someone’s face through the wall if they started trying to question him right about now.

Toji has never been more grateful that the average human being can neither see nor sense curses.

Having a sulking, broody Megumi on his shoulder is bad enough when you’re riding in a train surrounded by other people, but a worm on top of it? Toji can’t even fathom what would happen. Maybe someone would call the police. He already looked scary enough. The thought made him chuckle to himself. At least the worm wasn’t making any noise. Begrudgingly, Toji found it easier to deal with than Megumi at the present moment, mostly because it was calmly latched onto him and not having to be kept propped up the whole time.

“Be patient.”

“But I’m hungry.”

“Being pouty doesn’t make the train go faster, you know.” Toji pats him on the back, perhaps a little too firmly, because Megumi stiffens and grips onto his shoulder so firmly that it feels he’s trying to pull himself into Toji’s body. It takes him a few minutes to relax. Toji doesn’t do that again.

They rode in an awkward silence. Toji felt a vague prickle of discomfort low in his stomach, which reminded him of the worm. It sent a wave of nausea down his spine. His jaw tightened. Stay calm. You weren’t supposed to talk on trains. It was rude- disturbed everyone else, but Toji has never cared if other people thought he was rude. Then again he never caused disruptions on purpose. It felt as though he was supposed to talk to Megumi, to offer him some empty platitudes like “we’ll be there soon” or “I’ll let you pick a dessert.” But Megumi was well behaved, at least, in the sense that he wasn’t making noise. There were reasons for it. Toji could count them on his fingers. But it didn’t make this feel any less right to him.

But did anything feel “right?” What was “right,” anyways?

The intercom crackled faintly. Their stop was soon.

“Megumi?”

“What?”

“…I’ll let you pick something to have as a treat.”

“I don’t like sweets.”

Toji didn’t remember that. The vague, squeezing pit of unpleasantness in his stomach returned. He didn’t say anything else, and neither did Megumi. The remaining minute as the train ground to a halt was spent in that same state of awkward silence.

Toji had to stoop to prevent both Megumi and the worm from hitting their heads on the doorframe of the train. It was already getting to be dark out, and the streets of Tokyo were aglow with numerous nighttime sign displays. To someone who didn’t spend too much time outside of his own apartment, or a sitter’s house, it was nearly blinding. Megumi peeked up from his shoulder, gasping a little. From every angle, advertisements, art, and flashing signs begged to be paid attention to. Megumi had almost never been out when it was dark. His sitters put him to bed early, and normally, that was just fine by him.

“There’s so many lights!”

“Yeah, I know.” Toji doesn’t offer any other commentary. To him, the signs are mostly a reminder that he’s running low on cash, and nothing more. Perhaps because Megumi doesn’t have to concern himself with money yet he can afford to find them beautiful. Toji carries both him and the worm, which had been suspiciously silent this whole time down the block. He rounds a corner. Thankfully, the store he frequents when not on the job is open pretty late. No one else will be in it by this hour; that’s for sure. He pushed the door open, Megumi’s spiky hair just barely grazing the top of the doorframe.

The lady behind the counter is the same as always. She’s never seen him with his son before, and for the briefest of seconds, her surprise is written over her face. She then composes herself and smiles.

“Welcome back.”

Toji made a noncommittal grunt, hoisting Megumi off of his shoulders with one arm and placing him rather indelicately on the ground. Thankfully, he doesn’t trip or stumble into anything. The worm stirred quietly, but did not wake. Apparently this thing slept like a rock when it wanted to.

The good thing about this place is that it stocks basically every common item, from foods, to repair items, to a few kinds of clothes. There’s few stores left like that in the downtown area. Megumi began to wander, but before he could get too far away, Toji reached down, grabbing the back of his shirt. Megumi leaned forward. Toji was tempted to drop him just so he’d learn not to do that, but he restrained himself, and instead tugged him back to an upright position.

“Not too fast. Don’t want you to get lost.”

“I won’t get lost!”

“You did the last time.”

“That was a long time ago!” Megumi sounded rather huffy about it. It was a few months. Barely a blink to Toji if he had cash and some good beer, but to Megumi, he supposed it really could feel like forever.

“Yeah, well, rules are rules.” Toji hated that saying from the very bottom of his heart. But unfortunately he couldn’t deny its usefulness when it came to small children. Megumi grumbled a little, but ultimately slowed down so that Toji could walk alongside him, carefully going over the selections and occasionally checking the worm over his shoulder to ensure it was still sleeping. The problem wasn’t what he would eat. Toji, truthfully, could make a meal out of basically anything so long as it wasn’t lethal. Megumi, on the other hand, could get picky when it came to new foods. Or any food he simply deemed “gross.”

Soups were easy enough to make. Toji drifted over the shelves, grabbing a few ingredients. The fresh produce section was lacking today. Probably because he came in only a handful of minutes before closing, and everything good had already been picked over. Whatever. Toji took what was left- a few small carrots, an onion, and a rather sad looking bunch of radishes. He reminded himself that compared to how he usually ate, this would be a delicacy.

“Can we have ginger with it, Dad?” Ah. Megumi’s found his way into the modest little spice section, and has picked out a sizeable root for himself. He holds it up to Toji.

“…okay.” Toji takes the root without arguing. He glances at the price. Thankfully, they’re on sale. Seems the store really wants to get rid of this batch. Megumi rocks back and forth excitedly, practically bouncing on his heels. Ginger. He could never get enough of it, apparently. Toji could put it on anything and Megumi would at least try it.

Toji still needs to grab ingredients for a broth. He picks over the rest of the spices, picking the cheapest options. He now has an awkward looking armful of vegetables, spices, and a ginger root stacked on top of everything. The worm had begun to stir. Toji felt a sting of urgency in his stomach. “Megumi.” He grunts. “Go get one of those baskets.”

Megumi runs to the end of the aisle, grabbing a shopping basket and slinging it over his shoulder. His own small stature in comparison to it makes it look pretty stupid. Toji refrained from saying anything. As soon as he got close, Toji set the ingredients in it, grabbing the basket with one hand. The worm blearily opened its puffy little eyes. Great. Now he has to deal with this fucking thing when he’s just trying to put together ONE goddamn dinner for his son.

“Mommy?” The worm’s voice is groggy and thick with sleep. Megumi looks up at it, an unreadable expression on his face.

Toji’s teeth grit. “Not now,” he utters. The lady at the counter doesn’t hear him, thankfully, but if he starts talking to things that aren’t there, he doesn’t expect to be well received. He’s already intimidating enough. The last thing he needs is to be labeled as some kind of crazy person.

The worm stills. Its claws remain fully hooked into Toji’s shirt, and it readjusts, pressing its horrible little face into the side of Toji’s neck to use as a cushion. His brow twitched in irritation. All the more reason to get this shopping and the train ride home over with.

With Megumi in tow, Toji wandered over to the last section he needed ingredients from. There were few meat cuts left to pick from. Toji settled for a little bit of pork. He walked up to the till, quickly, and Megumi ran to catch him, peeling over the counter at the cashier. Her smile was tight lipped, bordering on sour. Had Toji done something, perhaps? He didn’t know, nor cared enough to ask.

“Good evening.” Her voice was sickeningly sweet. Toji grunted an affirmation, setting a wad of bills down on the counter. She scanned the items, placing them in two bags, before flipping through the bills and handing Toji his change. He tucked it into his pocket, grabbing the bags.

“Hurry up, Megumi.”

No thank you. No “good evening” back. The woman behind the counter glared at Toji Fushiguro’s back as he left, her smile turning to a scowl the moment she noticed just how long that worm curse was.

Notes:

A bit of a delay on this one, but I think it’s my biggest chapter yet lmao. What will happen with the cashier?? Who knows…only my evil little writing doc does ;]

Chapter 7: 2:00 PM

It’s not easy to make dinner when someone is whining about how hungry they are and getting in your way.

That was precisely the problem Toji had right now. The worm may have decided to go back to nuzzling his neck and sleeping, but Megumi had decided he just couldn’t wait any longer complaining. Toji grit his teeth. With twitching fingers, he sliced the pork into little chunks. If he wasn’t careful, he’d break the blade off of his knife with how hard he was pressing down. That, or leave a sizeable gouge in his only cutting board. A mix of vegetables sizzled in the frying pan. Megumi kept trying to reach for them, and every time, Toji had to swat his hand away, still careful to not use too much force.

“Ow!”

“Be patient.” A bit rich coming from him. Toji didn’t care. He just needed to put together this one goddamn meal for his kid, have him eat it, then tuck him into bed. Job done. Or at least, that was how Toji was hoping it would go. Based on how everything else had happened today, Toji wouldn’t be surprised if a special grade curse decided to join them for dinner.

Scowling slightly, he dropped the thin slices of meat into the pan, giving them a stir. Knife in hand, Toji stooped down to grab a pot to make the soup in. Damn. It really was a pain in the ass being this tall. He practically had to get down on his knees just to open the drawer properly. Toji grabbed the pot, and walked over to the sink, turning on the faucet.

Unfortunately, he didn’t quite manage to clean up every last splinter from earlier. One lodged itself in his bare foot just then, and to say Toji was unprepared was an understatement.

”FUCK!” he bellowed, the knife dropping to the floor. Megumi startled at the loud noise, taking a shaky step or two away. The pot clattered into the bottom of the sink. Toji felt something stirring on his back. Claws pricked his skin, and then something dropped to the floor. He spun around, splinter still firmly lodged in his food and blood smearing all over his kitchen tile. Toji was just in time to see the worm closing its chubby lips over the tip of the knife. It had swallowed it in one gulp. Rather like a snake. Toji blinked. Was it…going to digest it? Or get punctured from the inside? He rather hoped it was the latter.

It was neither. Like earlier, the worm inched over to his feet. Toji knew what was coming by this point, so he took a step back. It regurgitated the knife, spitting it right in front of Toji before looking up at him. The fucking thing was smiling. It practically had human teeth. Perhaps that was the most disturbing part of its anatomy.

“Mommy wants this?” it gurgled. Toji would have argued, but he was entirely out of energy by this point, so he merely grumbled under his breath. “Yeah, sure. Whatever.” He reached down, picking up the slimy knife. Vaguely, he wondered if this thing could fetch. Maybe then he and Megumi could keep it like some kind of horrible little house pet. He almost laughed at the thought.

“Dad, it’s getting smoky.” Damn, he’s still making dinner. Right. Toji tossed the slimy knife to the side again, because there’s no way he’s using that to prep anything after it’s been in that thing’s mouth. He stirred the vegetables and the pork together again, before taking the pot out of the sink. Toji grabbed a handful of spices, along with the stock. He didn’t bother to measure, instead just tossing handfuls in. Hopefully Megumi would find it tolerable. Toji didn’t cook often, and when he did, the results were…variable, to say the least.

Trying to keep an eye on multiple pots of food, your kid who’s trying to steal from said pots of food, and a low grade curse all at once was kind of stressing him out.

“Is it done yetttttt?”

“No.”

Megumi sighed, leaning his chin on the counter. He stared at the pot of broth, which had just barely started to simmer. Everything was too slow. When had he last eaten something decent? Or something his Dad made for him? He really can’t remember. The sitters he was with always cooked okay. But everything kind of tasted the same. You got sick of the same staples of unseasoned rice or fried tofu.

Toji felt something wet and slimy on his foot again. He glanced down, and sure enough, the knife was resting next to it, having been brought forward by the worm. He scoffed, reaching down to grab it and setting it in the sink. Yet another thing to wash. At least he could actually get that gross slime off of it. Unlike his couch, which he was still pretty fucking mad about, because where else was he supposed to collapse down onto and have a beer upon? The table? Toji was pretty sure it’d break too, with how everything else had been going. He grabbed the handle of the pan that had the vegetables and pork in it, lifting it easily above the now boiling broth. They plopped in at once, splashing a bit of boiling liquid onto Toji. He hissed, setting the pan aside to cool.

…right, he didn’t add the ginger yet.

And because his kitchen knife is covered in worm slobber, he’ll have to make do. Toji reached down to pull the splinter out of his foot. Grabbing the worm with one hand and slinging it over his shoulder, he marched through the apartment to his bedroom, uncaring as to the fact that he was probably tracking bloody prints on the floor. He opened his weapons drawer sharply. It was filled with various cursed tools, from blunt ones, to spears, to his few special grades he only ever took on his harder missions. Toji settled for a Grade Three blade he had no particular attachment to. It was the smallest thing he had that could possibly be close to serviceable in the kitchen.

To Megumi, though, his dad might as well have walked out with a sword.

“Woah! Where’d you get-“

“Don’t ask, and don’t tell anyone about it. Especially not your sitters. Got it, Megumi?” Toji didn’t often use his name. (Mostly because he forgot it. Sometimes. But whenever he did, things were really serious.)

“Aw,” Megumi muttered. He looked away, rocking back and forth on his feet for a moment to occupy himself. “You’re boring,” he said, eventually. Toji didn’t care enough to respond again. He was too busy trying to peel and cut a ginger root with a blade that was too long for it. Not to mention that the worm decided it wanted to try and nibble on it, because any time he brought it remotely close to him, he felt it rise off of his shoulder and reach its stubby little limbs out. Toji didn’t give it even one slice or a chunk of the peel. He didn’t know how curses could eat. If they could. And if they did, surely, it had to come out the other end. He didn’t want to have to clean that up either.

After some struggling, chunks of ginger dropped into the broth. Not too many. Otherwise it’d be all you could taste, even through the cocktail of spices Toji had thrown in it. He set the lid on the pot, lowering the temperature of the stove slightly. He could come back to check it in a few minutes.

He could probably have one beer with Megumi around, right?

Yeah. Definitely. Toji walked past him to the fridge, opening it, before prying a can out of the rings and cracking it open. The worm leaned over to give it a sniff, before deciding that apparently beer wasn’t something it wanted to damage its insides with. “So you’ll eat my kitchen knife, but not this?” Toji huffed. He took a long drink. On an empty stomach, most people would be feeling this near instantly, but Toji was not most people. On top of his general size and Heavenly Restriction, there was also the fact that his liver was perhaps a bit too accustomed to ethanol.

“Yucky,” said the worm, nestling back around Toji.

“You’re disgusting too.” Toji grunted, placing the half empty can of beer on the counter, making sure it was out of Megumi’s reach. Might as well wash that knife now. With disgust, Toji reached down into the sink. Some of the slime had already peeled off, and slunk down the drain as though it were alive. Eugh. He turned on the tap, placing it under the hot water once more. Soon, it bubbled and slid off in chunks, and his knife was clean once more. Toji set it aside, grabbing his beer and taking another drink.

The soup bubbled on the stove. He stirred it, then waited. Stirred it again. Waited some more. It was getting late, and Megumi was looking awfully tired, despite being hungry. His fidgeting had slowed down some, and now he wasn’t pestering Toji as much. Kids were easier to deal with when they got tired enough. Most of the time.

What is he going to do with the worm?

Toji just barely manages to convince himself it’s not an immediate problem. He takes the soup off of the stove, grabbing a spoon to serve it with. There’s no kid sized utensils or bowls in his apartment. Most of them were made of shitty plastic, anyhow. Toji settled for grabbing one of his bowls and filling it up to half with soup. He set a spoon in it, and handed it off to Megumi, who muttered a grumpy sounding “finally” before sitting down on the kitchen floor and beginning to eat. Toji drained the rest of his beer. He tossed the can into the overfull recycling bin, and thankfully, it didn’t collapse the delicate pile that had been building on top of it for a while now.

He took a slow sip of the broth. Passable. Nowhere near as good as he had whenever he went out to eat at a local place, but it would do. The ginger could have cooked longer. It wasn’t tender yet. At least the pork was cooked all the way through and none of the vegetables crunched in his mouth.

“How’s the soup?”

It feels awkward to ask.

“Fine.” The spoon is awkwardly large compared to Megumi’s small hands. He can’t even fit the whole thing in his mouth yet, so he has to take really small portions. Even one vegetable or piece of meat is already a mouthful to him. It occurs to Toji that he didn’t account for that. The ginger is the only thing sliced thinly enough that Megumi can have more than one at a time.

Megumi spends forever chewing. He glanced up at Toji. “Thanks, Dad.”

“…you’re welcome.”

They eat in silence. Most people would talk to their kids, ask them how their day was at school or something. Maybe make plans to do something together. But Megumi doesn’t attend school. He has to be sequestered away in whichever places will look the other way, or ideally, have no one who knows anything about sorcery even remotely close to them. It’s for his own safety. And if Toji is being brutally honest, convenience. You can’t kill people for money and have a kid wandering around in your apartment.

The worm tries to eat some of the soup. Whenever Toji stands too close to the stove, it slides down the front of his shirt, trying to climb over the countertop. Toji has to readjust every time. He can’t be done his dinner fast enough- carelessly tossing the bowl and the spoon into the sink.

“Stop that.”

“Mommy is mad?” It pauses, claws still hooked into the front of Toji’s compression shirt. He would be impressed that it somehow hadn’t flopped forward into the pot by now.

“For the last time, I’m not your mother.” He groans. His foot still hurts from stepping on the splinter. All he wants is to have the rest of that pack of beer and not have to deal with this thing ever again.

“I get gift for mommy.” The worm slid off of his shoulder. He didn’t stop it this time. If it wants to dunk itself in soup and boil itself, so be it. Surprisingly, it doesn’t go for it. Rather, it crawls right past the pot of soup to the knife on the counter. Toji lunges to grab it, thinking it’s going to eat the damn knife yet again, but thankfully, it doesn’t. It holds the newly clean knife between its frighteningly human teeth as Toji holds it up with one hand. Slowly, he reached up to grab it by the hilt, prying it out.

“Why do you keep giving me this?”

Naturally, the worm does not respond. It only looks at Toji again with that horrible, small smile.

“Maybe it wants to be your friend,” Megumi suggests. His mouth is full of food. The idea is ludicrous to Toji- this thing is already calling him “mommy.” Maybe it can fetch, like some kind of fucked up dog. Why not put that idea to the test? Almost carelessly, Toji tossed the knife to the side. It skidded along the floor, eventually coming to a stop in the living room. The worm didn’t show any signs of reacting. Toji cautiously set it down on the ground, keeping himself between it and Megumi. For a moment, all it did was sit there. Its puffy eyelids had closed almost entirely, leaving only a slit open to see with. It left Toji wondering if the worm was blind by choice.

Then it started inching across his floor.

Megumi stepped up behind Toji, his bowl of soup held close to his chest. The two of them watched it crawl, much slower and more relaxed than it had moved before. Like this was some sort of leisure stroll. Vaguely Toji knew its claws would screw up the carpet in the other room, but at this point, he couldn’t care less. His couch was already stained with vomit, slime, and a bit of blood for good measure. A few torn pieces of carpet was nothing by now. When it reached the knife, it picked it up between its teeth. For some reason, it didn’t swallow it. Instead, it began crawling back to Toji, just as leisurely as before.

“I think it likes you, Dad.”

“I don’t like it.” He grumbled. The worm placed the knife at his feet again, before curling up into a small ball. Toji nudged it with his foot. It barely moved at all, only twitching slightly. He stared down at it, perplexed, before reaching down and grabbing the knife. His floor was filthy, and it had just been in a curse’s mouth, so there was no way he was using it on anything before he washed it. (Again.) He tossed it into the sink. He could clean it up later. Toji was getting real fucking tired of cleaning up after everyone else. Or everything, in the case of the worm.

“Eat the rest of your soup. Then you’re going to bed.”

“But I’m not tired.”

“You were tired on the train.”

“Yeah, because I was bored!” It’s a little hard for Megumi to get his protest out around his mouthful of vegetables. He chews, looking up at Toji. “And now I’m not bored. So I want to stay up later.”

“How are you planning to do that?” Toji reached down, grabbing the worm. It didn’t resist this time, and instead, curled contentedly around his wrist. Toji pried it off and set it over his shoulder. It squirmed slightly, before it hooked its little claws back into his shirt, settling against his back.

“Uhh…” Megumi trailed off. He finished his bowl of soup. Of course, he could always ask Nue to help him stay awake, but he didn’t want to make his dad angry again. On second thought, it would be better to pretend to go to sleep and stay up instead. His dad would never check in on him once he was put to bed, anyways. So, Megumi feigned a begrudging acceptance.

“…okay, fine. I’ll go to bed.”

“Good.”

Toji paused. How old was this kid again? Five? Six? Surely he didn’t need to be tucked in by now. Or read a story. Toji didn’t have any books he could read to him, anyways. He didn’t keep any in the apartment. What stories he could recall verbally wouldn’t be of any interest to someone as young as him. And the rest were probably too gory. Even Toji figured it was a bad idea to tell your kid about the people you were hired to kill.

“…tuck yourself in. You’re a big kid, I’m not coming in there.”

“Okay.”

Megumi didn’t expect anything more. He left his bowl resting precariously on the very edge of the countertop, next to the stove, and wandered off to his room. No bath, as Toji only had a shower, and his sitters only ever let him take baths. He never bothered to ask why. Nor did he brush his teeth. There was nothing he could use. Or even a change of clothes. And so, Megumi shut the door behind him, and crawled under the covers in the dark. At least his dad bothered to cook tonight, rather than making him go dig through the fridge to try and scavenge something he’d like. His gaze returned to the ceiling.

Intent on not going to sleep just yet, he watched the shadows move.

Notes:

And then I took forever writing this chapter. My bad. (It’s becoming more and more clear that taking on a challenge this big was hubris.) Unfortunately for hubris I’ll write all 17 chapters of this shit if it kills me

Chapter 8: 3:00 PM

Notes:

Cloud: it won’t take me that long to write this chapter
The humble burnout:

This is turning out to be the longest fucking day Toji Fushiguro has ever had. And he’s had some long days. He’d prefer to be sitting down somewhere, another beer or two deep, but there’s no way he’s risking getting hungover with this thing in the apartment. Nor is he letting it out of his sight. Or anywhere close to Megumi. Toji would prefer to kill it. God, he wished he could kill it. But he’s already done that once, and well, it didn’t go too well.

The sun has long since set. With Megumi in bed and the worm not actively pestering him, the apartment had gone silent. Toji felt a brief flicker of…something, before he turned his attention to the stove. The pot of lukewarm soup was still resting on it, more than half full. He made way more than they needed. Whatever, he can heat it back up and give it to the kid for breakfast. Less hassle that way. Toji reached for the ladle, spooning it into one of many unused leftover containers. The contents of his fridge did tend to fluctuate a lot, come to think of it. Sometimes overflowing with takeout, sometimes nothing but beer and a handful of expired things he forgot about.

Quietly, the fridge door clicked shut. Toji glanced back into the living room, sighing through his nose.

What the hell is he even supposed to do here?

Toji’s not used to having to solve a problem like this. Usually, all he had to worry about was making sure something was dead. That was arguably a lot more simple than trying to take care of something. And at least Megumi didn’t swallow his knives whole and vomit them back up on his feet.

Begrudgingly, he trodded into his room, closing the door behind him. It’s just as he’s left it- somehow both empty and cluttered. The covers of his bed are ruffled. Clean, but not organized. There’s barely anything for personal items. Most of what Toji owns are weapons, stashed in varying places but mainly stored in a drawer. That was one of the only bothers with his job, trying to find a place to put all the pointy, not remotely child safe stuff. You never know when you might need something, so it’s easy to overpack and make things awkward for yourself. Or when your kid might decide to “play pretend” with a weapon capable of cutting flesh like butter. (Thankfully, that had never happened so far. It was another reason why Toji preferred to keep Megumi at a sitter’s.)

Toji grabbed the worm, slowly unwinding it from his body and setting it on the bed. It inched across the blankets before curling up in a ball right next to his pillow. He turned to one of his weapons drawers, sorting through it and taking out what he usually brought on a mission. Might as well see what else this curse could stomach. Among the items were: a decent sized blade, large enough to cut through just about anything, along with a shorter knife, for precision cuts and attacks. He set the both of them on the bed with a quiet clink. Together, they exceeded the length of the worm’s body by a few centimetres at the least.

…it felt stupid to test this, but Toji was bent on making this thing useful. If he can’t kill it, it’ll have to pay rent somehow. And you can’t make something useful until you figure out how it works. Something something, scientific method or whatever. (Toji never received a formal education. But anyone willing to shove weapons in a worm has to be a scientist of some kind.)

“You.” He poked its side. The worm tilted its head to look at Toji, groggy and confused. He grabbed the smaller blade, holding it flat between his hands so he didn’t cut himself or the worm. The hilt of the blade rested right in front of its mouth. It moved forwards, opening its mouth and taking it between its teeth. As Toji had seen a few times earlier, it swallowed it inch by inch, like a snake taking in prey. Kind of gross to watch. Toji released the blade, and it closed its lips over the very tip, seemingly swallowing it completely. Toji carefully unwound the worm from the position it was sitting in, rolling it onto its back.

“What, you think that’s tasty? Why do you keep eating my stuff?”

Naturally, no response. It did have an infuriatingly placid expression, though.

He placed a hand on its midsection, where the tool should be. The worm squirmed a bit, but didn’t put up a serious resistance to the contact. Instead of feeling the outline of his blade, all Toji felt when he pressed down was the worm’s soft underbelly. There’s no way it digested it that quickly. Right? He pressed down on its stomach a little lower, between a pair of its middle legs, and it made a soft gurgling noise. The tip of the sword poked out of its mouth again. Toji trailed his hand along the underbelly of the worm. He didn’t feel any of the blade until he got to its throat. It was as though whatever the worm swallowed ended up in a pocket dimension of some kind.

He poked the tip of the blade, and the worm swallowed it again. Rather than regurgitating it all over him, that’s certainly more useful. Toji wondered if that was because he’s deliberately feeding it the tool, rather than leaving it unattended, as he had with the other knives. Perhaps it thought he was playing earlier? That idea of Megumi’s, of this curse wanting to be his friend for some reason, wouldn’t leave Toji’s brain. Nor was the fact that it only ever referred to him as a parent of some kind.

He had his hands full enough with taking care of one. And himself. Come to think of it, Megumi only made less messes because he made sure there was nothing around to mess with in the first place. Toji glanced down at it again, staring a little too long at its grotesquely human face. There was undeniably something behind it. He wasn’t too keen on discovering what. Seemed like too much trouble for something that had already been a pain in the ass since it showed up. He squeezed the worm slightly, just to hear it grumble at him. Still soft, with no trace of the blade it had swallowed. The urge to crush it came back, but he held off.

Could he ever not hate this thing? If he made it useful, would it somehow squirm its horrible little body into the short list of things Toji’s ever cared about? Toji wasn’t sure. He didn’t want to confront that. As usual, it got buried deep, deep down, with the other thoughts he hoped would be soon forgotten.

“You’re so…” A descriptive word didn’t come to him easily. Toji grunted in frustration.

Well. No sense in stopping halfway, right? Keeping only one knife inside this sack of slime wouldn’t do much. Toji grabbed the second tool, significantly longer and broader than the previous one. It was almost the size of the worm in its own right. He presented it in much the same way, and the worm took it into its mouth, struggling to open its jaw wide enough. Toji put a little pressure behind the blade. The worm’s jaw creaked as it widened far past what it should, and it inched forwards, swallowing the blade. Its lips closed around the tip, and it was like the tool was never there in the first place. Toji stared in bewilderment. Where was it storing all of that?

His hand found its stomach again, and sure enough, he could feel neither blade through it. The worm could bend and move as though it didn’t have two sizeable weapons stored inside of it. He picked it up, allowing it to wrap its lower half around his midsection like it did when he was making dinner. If it were in a stomach, the blades should have cut right through it, or at the least, perforated its side, but it curled around him as though it were empty.

Cautiously, Toji reached a hand underneath it, pressing on its midsection again. It spat out the very tip of the larger blade. He pressed a bit firmer, and half of it emerged. Toji took it out, cautiously, lying it on the floor. There’s that slime on it. Again. Toji does his best to remind himself that this experiment is for a well thought out reason (and not at all because he’s curious to see how many pointy things you can shove inside the worm until something happens.) Toji pressed down a little more, and the tip of the first blade became visible. It too was expelled into his hand, coated in that same slime. He had to be careful to not cut himself.

“Just how much can you fit in you?” Toji muttered. He opened his drawer, searching for the longest weapon he had. Soon, he pulled out a blade attached to a chain. The blade itself wasn’t too large, but the chain gave it an impressive range when swung in circles or thrown at enemies. Whenever Toji travelled with it by himself, he always had to wrap it around itself multiple times so the chain wouldn’t take up too much space. He presented the blunt end to the worm, which accepted it immediately, swallowing link after link of the chain almost like a metal noodle. Once it got past the combined length of the blades it ate earlier, he half expected it to spit it right back out on his bed.

Apparently not, because it kept going. Toji watched it with fascination, confusion, and perhaps the slightest hint of disgust as the whole weapon disappeared in less than a minute. The worm felt no heavier for it, either. Toji wasn’t one to notice weight all that often, but at least when he wielded that particular weapon, he had to, if he was going to know how much force to throw it with. He slid the worm off of his body, holding it out and grabbing its upper and lower half in one hand. Toji shifted it back and forth. No movement behind the skin of its underbelly. No weight shift as the chain should have slid back and forth.

Toji didn’t know if keeping this thing as some kind of convenient, living grab-bag was a horrible idea. It sure seemed too good to be true. Toji loved convenience. But not when it comes with a catch. He held the worm upside down, poked that same spot on its midsection again, and sure enough, it began to spit out the weapon in its entirety. Toji took it out and set it aside with the other weapons, trying not to spread the slime anywhere. If he had to sleep in a puddle of that stuff after the day he’s just been through, someone’s neck is getting wrung.

Sleep, right. Does this thing sleep? Toji doesn’t think curses need to sleep, but then again, it had taken a little nap earlier. And it had tried to curl up on his pillow before he fed it weaponry. He walked over to the light by the door, dimming it down to the lowest setting. Closed the curtains and the blinds. If someone (Megumi) woke him up at dawn, he’d break something else.

Toji felt too lazy to bother getting into any kind of sleepwear. And really, any clothes were sleepwear, so long as you wore them when you were sleeping.

“C’mon, ugly. You’re staying in here tonight.” Toji peeled the worm off of his frame, and it squirmed in protest. He carried it over to his laundry basket, setting it on top of the pile of clothes he really should have washed by now. “Stay.” Toji flicked off the light, crawling beneath the half made covers and shifting around to adjust them. He closed his eyes. Deep inhale. Slow exhale. When he managed to fall asleep, all of this would be not his problem. It would be tomorrow Toji’s problem. And no matter how much tomorrow Toji got fucked over by present day Toji, he would always clean up the mess.

The sheets ruffled. Toji did his best to ignore it. One of the troubles about having a physically enhanced body is that everything is enhanced, at all times, and there’s nothing you can do about it.

Deep breath, Toji. In…and out…in…and out.

Pressure on the blankets. They ruffled again, and he shot upright, eyes snapping open. Having crawled up on the bed, the worm inched toward him, no doubt seeking the warmth he provided. No way was he having this thing in bed with him. Toji could stay up the whole night to keep an eye on it, technically. He could stay up a whole week and be “fine” physically. It just so happened to be that a sleepless Toji was even more prone to snapping at anything that crossed his path.

“Get off,” he grit out, tone hushed so as to not wake Megumi. “You don’t get to sleep up here. Go back in the laundry basket.” He pointed off into the darkness. The worm didn’t even bother to look behind it, and instead crawled up over his leg. It was just beginning to curl up and make itself comfy when Toji threw the covers off of himself, grabbing it in one hand, and marched over to the laundry basket as silently as he could. He set it down on top of the pile of clothes (they weren’t even THAT stinky, Toji has had way worse laundry before.)

“Now stay.” He went back to bed, drawing the covers up and closing his eyes. For a few minutes, peace. And just when it seemed Toji was finally drifting off after this nightmare of a day, he felt a twitch of the blankets, or weight on the covers. Each time, he told the worm off. It was like a bratty child refusing to listen. Toji resisted the urge to launch it across the room. That would wake Megumi up, and he’d probably be pretty scared.

Ugh.

“I’m not your mother.”

“Protect?” it said, climbing up the side of Toji’s body to curl up on his chest. This time, he didn’t kick it off. Maybe, MAYBE if it stayed still, he’d be able to get a good night’s sleep.

“Don’t count on it.” Toji muttered. “Asshole.” He reached up, draping his arm over its body to keep it in place. There. Now it shouldn’t get up to anything while he’s asleep. Its skin felt…weirdly soft under his hand. Kind of like a hairless cat. Except there was just a little bit of hair. Enough to be uncanny and weird, not enough to be fuzzy and cuddly. He can hear it “breathe” too- even though he knows curses don’t need to breathe. Toji’s brow twitches in irritation. The curse was keeping him up, still, and it wasn’t even pestering him at the moment.

He is SO getting this thing a crate first thing tomorrow morning.

Notes:

Fun fact, I had most of this written on like…June 12th. I happened to think it sucked, though, so I re-read and re-wrote it a bunch of times. Writing a bigger fic is hard, but then I have to remember that they ain’t exactly paying me back here…I can relax a little!

Shoutout to all my commenters so far, and anyone who’s been keeping up with this fic! I love you and you’re keeping me motivated :3

Chapter 9: 4:00 PM

Notes:

Wow, that took…forever. I swear I went through the five stages of grief writing this chapter, lol. The self doubt demons got to me, and then I realized that even if this fic ended up sucking horribly, I’d at least learn something from persevering. This is the middle hump of my story, and the part I struggled to work in the most. Hopefully, it’ll be a lot easier from here on out!

Kaori Itadori had near infinite patience for anyone, no matter how rude. She had it down to a science- listen, reassure, ring up the goods, and smile as they walked out. Unfortunately for her, Toji Fushiguro was one of the few people who managed to get on her nerves Every. Single. Time.

Most of the time, it wasn’t that awful. Objectively. Kaori had people that were worse than him. Ones who came in to the little corner store high, drunk, or both, unable to purchase goods with the few spare yen in their pocket, and she’d had to talk them out of trying to steal it anyways. Or hitting her with the nearest blunt object. (Such were the perils of working a late evening shift solo.) Toji Fushiguro at least had the decency to stay sober while he was picking up his beer, or recently, an entire basket’s worth of groceries.

Kaori is around 90% sure that kid of his doesn’t eat well. As a mother herself, it doesn’t sit right with her. The one time she’d seen him bring him in, she debated calling someone. But there was no evidence to give besides her gut feeling. So, reluctantly, she sold Toji whatever he got, and bid him farewell with a smile on her face. Secretly, Kaori hoped he’d hit his head on the doorframe every time he left.

She wasn’t the type to dislike people out of the blue. There was something so innately off about Toji Fushiguro. Perhaps it was the way he looked at her whenever he bought something. Kaori had an obligation to meet any customer with a smile, no matter what. Toji seemed to take that as an offence, frowning at her in a way that made the scar on his lip pucker and curl in on itself. It could also be the vague comments. Every so often, he’d mutter something about women staying quiet if she greeted him a bit too enthusiastically.

If Kaori did not force herself to speak to him like that, she’s sure she’d scowl right back at him. And naturally, that wasn’t becoming of a cashier.

Normally, she could pick apart who was a sorcerer and who was a civilian as soon as they walked in. On slower days, Kaori would make a little game of it, keeping count in her head of how many of which she’d seen. Windows were a little harder to tell apart from a regular person, but with enough focusing on their cursed energy signature, Kaori could manage it. The thing that drew the line was the flow of cursed energy. A sorcerer, most often, had a strong flow all around their body, which in turn radiated outwards and could be picked up so long as it wasn’t purposefully suppressed. A civilian had something of a shapeless, directionless blob of cursed energy that just floated around in the air. Whatever ended up breaking off from the main portion formed curses. And eventually, cursed spirits, if enough concentrated together.

Toji’s kid had a strong flow, much like that of a sorcerer. Though, it was less refined. If Kaori had to guess, he had all the potential to make one at some point, but hadn’t been trained. The real puzzle was Toji. Kaori remembers briefly panicking the first time she met him- she had been restocking the snacks in the back, unable to see or hear the door. It was a late shift, around 30 minutes until closing. Usually, she’d rely on her sensing. To Kaori, it was obvious whenever someone walked in, because they practically carried their own little cloud of negative emotions around with them.

Toji, however, had absolutely zero cursed energy.

So, it’s easy to picture the shock Kaori had when a man half a foot taller than her, and twice as wide tapped her on the shoulder, only to say: “Do you work here?”

At first she thought he was a sorcerer, suppressing his cursed energy on purpose. Kaori remembers ringing up his goods the first time, making small talk, and letting her own cursed energy flare in subtle ways that couldn’t go unnoticed to someone at that level of mastery. Frustratingly, he kept that same expression on his face. Flat, and almost bored. Not a single bubble of cursed energy seeped through the cracks in response. Kaori closed the store after he left that night, both unsettled and curious. She didn’t sleep more than a handful of hours.

Kaori tried to return to normal after that. She opened the store the following morning, greeting both regulars and new customers with a smile. It was a comforting routine, even if it became burdensome at times. She would think about that man, every now and then. If he truly had no cursed energy, what was it like to live? Did he experience no negative emotions? Did he keep them all perfectly sealed away, behind some kind of barrier that jujutsu society had yet to conceive? Or did they simply…bubble off into nothing?

Soon, a month had passed since she first saw him. He occupied her thoughts less and less. Kaori found herself busy again with the joy that came from coming home to Yuji, and a warm meal. The anomaly that was Toji was briefly forgotten about. After all, she still had him. Her masterstroke, perhaps. Even at his age, Yuji was already strong. His cursed energy was suppressed, but just from being in the same room as him, Kaori could feel its unique strength. It coated him in a living, breathing kind of armour, one that would adapt to him as he grew up. Yuji reminded her of what her purpose was, really. Long days at work in the modern world tended to make even the strongest minds drift off into nowhere.

Perhaps Kaori liked playing mother a little too much at times.

The second time she met Toji was less nerve wracking, at least. He came in at a respectable hour, shoulders hunched and mouth drawn in a thin, tired line. Residuals clung to him like a second skin, hanging off of him in tatters. To Kaori, they reeked the way only a potent cursed spirit did. She still remembers how he walked up to the counter, only buying a six pack of beer and some fresh bread. Completely and utterly unscathed.

Toji slid the yen across the counter. The bills were extraordinarily crisp. Just printed, probably, which was odd for a man like him.

“Rough day?” Kaori had asked, counting out his change and placing the pristine notes in the cash box.

“Something like that.” He took the change and his goods, barely giving her a glance as he left. The residuals trailed behind him, floating around the store and filling it with an indeterminable sense of dread.

Their interactions continued like this. Kaori would always try to prompt some information from him, and he would either brush her off, or not respond.
Of course, some people were less talkative than others. But in Kaori’s many years of experience, most people like him, the mysterious and brooding type, secretly harboured an urge to crack. The urge to give in and tell someone something, even if it would never be obvious to the average person. A subtle confession of sorts. Yet, Toji remained stubbornly closed off.

He was something of a puzzle to Kaori, which was a status most people could never attain. Humanity as a whole was devastatingly simple to her. Toji should have been simple, too. She prided herself on being a good judge of character, and Toji certainly didn’t seem like the kind of guy who spent enough time inside his own head to know how to conceal who he was. Rather, it was the complete disinterest. Every time Kaori greeted him, he looked right through her, staring into some unseen place. She wanted to figure out where.

His purchases of beer began to tick up later in the year. He stuck to the same brand, too, a cheap and relatively unpopular one. No matter what else Toji bought, there was beer with it. Kaori could practically feel the hidden misery seeping out of him. All the signs were there. And yet there was no concrete proof- not a single flicker of cursed energy ever originated from him. Even though he came in here every few weeks with his too-crisp bills and enough residuals to set any average sorcerer’s nerves on end, Kaori couldn’t pick apart what he was. That was the infuriating part.

“Nice scar,” she said to him, once. Wanting to see just how far she could push it. “Where’d you get it?”

Toji’s eye twitched slightly as he passed her the bills again. Today, he was buying a lottery ticket in addition to his usual goods.

“Nice scar,” he said, eyes flicking to the puckered line that deep stitches once left across her forehead. “Where’d you get it?” And before Kaori responded, he grabbed his change, his goods, and walked out the door.

From that day onwards, he refused to talk to her much. If he entertained a question, he’d respond with only one or two words. There was nothing she said that seemed to interest him. Toji returned to how he was at their first meeting- closed off and leaving Kaori with more questions than answers.

The most recent time he came in, he brought in two additional surprises. The first was his son- a small and wiry looking kid with a wild and spiky head of hair that looked better placed on a sea urchin. The second was a cursed spirit. She’d seen several of them come into her store before, usually fly heads or Grade 4s that did little but feed on the misery of others. But what cursed energy could it possibly be feeding from, in the case of Toji? Did he know it was there? Kaori could hardly hide her interest. She didn’t take her eyes off of the three of them the whole time they shopped. Regardless of how rude it was to stare.

At the till, when Toji checked out for the night, she made sure to be the friendliest she could. Even with her best smile, he said nothing. Offered no indicator as to anything at all- his son, the worm, or himself. It was though Toji chose to seal everything away behind a wall of stone, stubbornly keeping every last one of his secrets. The only thing that formed a crack in that wall was Megumi, it seemed. Kaori kept notes on the two of them behind the counter the whole time, carefully observing the way they interacted. Megumi afforded her just the briefest glimpse into how Toji lived.

Of course, that hardly tied it all together. You can only extrapolate so much from the way someone talks to their kid. Or the way that they always pick the cheapest options available, despite only ever paying in the cleanest, least worn cash Kaori has ever touched. There was something undeniably wrong about Toji. A total that never quite balanced out, no matter what you did. As he walked out the door that night, worm curse hanging off of his back like the disgusting little parasite it was, Kaori couldn’t help but scowl. Something about someone as simple as Toji being able to effortlessly avoid giving anything away irked her in a way nothing else could.

She wasn’t the type to give up, though. Many people had tested her patience over the years, and not a single one came out on top.

Perhaps someone like him could be useful, come to think of it.

She could ponder about Toji later. For now, there was a customer at the counter.

-

“Are you really going to eat all of this yourself?” In front of her was at least four fistfuls of varying candies. Kaori looks up to be greeted with a pair of incredibly shiny sunglasses, and the sharpest smile she’s ever seen. She catches the faintest glimpse of white eyelashes.

“Why shouldn’t I?” He says, taking out a coin purse and placing a fistful of change next to the candy. “I deserve a treat.” He sounds smug. Full of himself, really. And why wouldn’t he be? Kaori can feel the cursed energy rolling off of him in waves. She takes care to keep her own from floating around too much.

“It’s bad for your teeth.” She begins to count the coins, one at a time. “But you’re big enough to make choices for yourself now, aren’t you?”

“Jeez, you’re not my dentist.” Kaori can practically hear him rolling his eyes. She takes her time counting the coins on purpose, just to see him rock back and forth impatiently on his heels. After a minute or two, she places the coins in the cash register, looking back at him with a small smile.

“Do you want a bag for that?”

“Nah. I got pockets.” For a second, she thinks he’s being sarcastic. Then, he scoops the candy up in his hands, stuffing it into the sides of his pants. It looks completely ridiculous, and Kaori can’t help but laugh a little, covering her mouth with her hand. He leaves a lot happier than Toji ever did.

The boy’s cursed energy lingers at the counter for days, like an imprint. It clings to Kaori even as she returns home after work. It drips off of her shoulders and falls to the floor, never quite disappearing. Not only that, but it was familiar in the way an old scent was. Hard to place, but undeniably something you experienced before.

The six eyes never disappoints, it seems. No matter what era.

Notes:

Shoutout to the people keeping updated on this fic!! I love you!!! And thank you so much for being patient with me!