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“Bullshit!” Kugisaki slams another pillow in Itadori’s direction, “There’s no way that happened.”
“It did! My grandpa was the strongest, he taught martial arts, had a dojo and everything.”
“I’d believe it,” Megumi mumbles into his coffee, regretfully watching his room be destroyed by the two fiends.
“See, even Fushiguro trusts me.” He preens under the not-praise, rubbing it in her face.
“Nah, you’re just shit at lying.”
Itadori makes some kind of offended sound, it’s hard to tell if the exaggeration is genuine or not.
“This is supposed to be team building Fumigusho, where’s your spirit?” Kugisaki hurls a pillow at him with an unnecessary amount of force, his coffee’s thankfully empty enough that it doesn’t slosh over the side.
“Team building with the second years was way nicer.” He can’t even express how true it is. He already knew Zen’in, Panda is always good at matching energy, and Inumaki is quite possibly the best person he’s ever had a conversation with.
Gojo does this sometimes, he gets put on a plane partially mostly against his will, to Europe this time, and tells them their homework is to learn a new fact about each other or end up in the papers, either is fine so long as it’s fun.
Megumi has a seriously different definition of fun, but now they’re exchanging stories of their parents and it’s not so bad listening to Itadori rave about Sendai, or Kugisaki explain yet another creepy neighbour. Actually, her stories are probably better, she doesn’t go off on a new tangent every two sentences, and she has a lot to say about Saori and Fumi, though he’s still confused about who the hell they actually are. At first, Saori sounded like her sister, then a childhood crush, then a stalkee. Maybe she’s all of those things.
“What about you Fushiguro?”
“What about me.”
“What was growing up in Tokyo like? Do city schools really give you food, like- for free?”
“Yeah, but it’s a bit rank if you get there late, the vending machines were always good.”
“Did they take your class for trips every term?”
“I guess, they took the whole year though, I didn’t always go.”
“Were the buses those fancy ones with the LEDs on the top?”
“I think so, I got picked up most of the time.”
They both stare up at him as if he hung the stars, it’s a little sad really. He’s sure Itadori’s school wasn’t even that small when he saw it, but he doesn’t doubt when Kugisaki says hers was only forty-two students.
“Ooh, Fumigusho parent reveal?” Kugisaki latches on to the old argument.
“God no, never, and stop calling me that.” He shoves his face into his mug.
“C’mon, we’ve been talking all day-“
“Feel free to stop.”
Itadori ignores him.
“-at least give us a photo.”
“Which one do you take after the most? I bet it’s your mom, you definitely have the lashes.”
Truthfully, Megumi doesn’t know the answer to that, it stings in some weird distant way, it feels like he almost shouldn’t be allowed to feel hurt about someone he can’t remember.
“Sure, I guess.” It could be true.
“Give us something Fumigusho! We know basically nothing about you.” She pouts at him, it doesn’t matter how cute she tries to make herself, he knows she’s ready to attack him on sight at practically any given moment.
“Shit, fine, okay. You get three questions, then you leave me alone.”
“Deal!” The boy sprawled out next to him shouts.
“Right, Itadori, focus up. This is a one-time opportunity here.” She yanks Itadori into a sad-looking huddle and the scheming commences.
“I'm getting a refill, have either a question or a movie ready.”
Megumi can only hope the caffeine is going to keep him sane enough that he won’t actually choke one of them out. The coffee jar is almost empty. It’s definitely Ieiri’s fault. He selfishly hides the remaining coffee in a random drawer so he’ll at least have some for tomorrow morning. Well, later today.
He sighs, dreadfully kicking his door open again.
“We have one!”
He pinches his nose, already regretting this.
“What do you remember about your fifth birthday?” She asks with her finger up.
“What.”
“Yeah, it’s like your first day of school and stuff.” Itadori twists to look at him.
He takes a moment to stare into his cup and deflect.
“If you wanna know about my..“ he doesn’t exactly know how to describe him. Well, he does, but he’d rather not tell them an embarrassing word like parent, and guardian opens up a rabbit warren of questions he doesn’t want to answer, “About my benefactor, you have to pick a later birthday.”
“Why?”
“Is that your question?”
“No.”
Good. Megumi slumps back into his spot at the foot of the bed.
“Okay, tenth.”
“Tenth,” he repeats, trying to do the math, how old was Tsumiki then? That might have been the year after the Sendai tsunami, Gojo was busier that winter, he doesn’t recall they did anything that special, not that it bothered him. The curses were a bigger problem, he even understood that then. “I think we went ice skating, I don’t remember.”
That’s right, he remembers Gojo absolutely eating it under his gangly limbs.
“Yeah, but then I was too scared to skate until he held my hands.” He almost smiles. Almost, he doesn’t because it wasn’t that nice.
“Aw, what the hell? You sound like such a cute kid.” Kugisaki actually clings to Itadori’s side where he’s laid on his back with his legs against the wall, shaking him with emphasis.
“Nah, I was an ass.” Megumi harshly pinches his bridge, “Seriously, I was so mean all the time.”
“And you’re not now?” She snipes.
“Y’know, I could keep giving you one-word answers.” He’s not mean like he used to be. It’s not as cruel now.
“Is your dad tall, Fushiguro?” Itadori changes his train of thought.
“He is not my dad.” He outwardly cringes, “He is though, kept hitting his head on doors. He was a fucken twig then too.” It sort of hit him that Gojo was barely older than him when he took them in. Sure, he had a little help, but it was never really enough. He suddenly starts remembering differently. Gojo was always loud and obnoxious in his mind, but that wasn’t really it.
“He always carried me.” He doesn’t mean to say it out loud, and maybe ten sounds a little too old to be carried around whenever he gets tired, but all those times play back in his head now, he can’t help but notice how sad he seemed. Now that he knows what tired beyond a bad sleep feels like, he can remember Gojo was always carrying signs with him. He didn’t know what Gojo’s brand of sad looked like then, he does now. Megumi feels guilt rip into him a little. Only a tiny bit.
“Maybe I didn’t have to be so mean.”
They both stare at him wide-eyed for a moment, like they can’t even believe what he’s saying.
“Piss off.” He sips his drink. “Next.”
“Woah, no. I’m still caught on little Fumigusho being scared of ice.” Kugisaki blurts sitting up on her knees and Itadori nods in vigorous agreement from where he’s sprawled between them.
“I wasn’t scared of ice, I was fucking cold, and I didn’t want to break my face or whatever.” He glares at them, “Plus that idiot kept making it look way easier than it was, it was annoying.”
“When’s your birthday, Fumigusho?”
“April,” he lies easily, they’ll probably find that out when Gojo does something obnoxious for him in three months.
“You went ice skating in April.” She stares flatly at him.
“It was a cold April.” He glares back.
“What about your mom, was she there? You said you look like her.”
“I lied, I don’t know her,” He’s pretty sure she’s dead. “Not that it matters.” What a way to sound heartless, “l just mean- I don’t know what I mean. Whatever.”
“Does it bother you?” Itadori’s tone has some kind of soft understanding in it.
“No. I don’t remember her, I guess I sort of remember my..” he doesn’t really want to say dad, “father.” Megumi thinks he remembers what he did more than him. “Doesn’t matter, he was a dick.”
Megumi actually hates how much the dark sky is loosening his tongue. When they don’t stop staring at him with their stupid emotional fucking pitiful eyes, he throws a stray pillow. Actually, slamming it directly down onto Itadori’s face is probably more accurate.
“Ask your stupid questions.” His coffee is emptier than he’d like. “And don’t look at me like that.” He wouldn’t say he’s someone who really deserves pity.
“Okay, okay.” Itadori grabs Kugisaki down as he rolls towards her, it doesn’t do anything to protect their whispers from his ears.
“Favourite Christmas present!” Kugisaki finally gleams.
Sure, he’s had lots of great Christmas mornings, but they all get clouded over by Gojo coming home from a war, he barely locked the door before keeling over. He’d begged Megumi just to go to his room through his hand, even through the wall, he wouldn’t ever forget the sound that echoed through the apartment. The pain had reminded him of how it felt to lose Tsumiki. He’d tried to smother the phantom replay in his mind with deafening music and every pillow he had, it never worked.
“Ask something else.” He can only pray to hell that they won’t ask why. They don’t, he doesn’t want to think about what embarrassing shake his voice must’ve held to cause that.
Kugisaki pulls him up this time, briefly shouting, no, that’s stupid, way too close to Itadori’s ear.
“Oh, no, I got one!” He twists out of her grip, “Best family tradition!”
And it is actually a pretty good question. That doesn’t make it easier to answer. Gojo was always busy, obviously, but he was also always just there. Every day, with the exception of being overseas, still, it didn’t make for a lot of consistency.
“We always went to Kyoto on New Year.” He settles on. It’s probably not very original. At the time, he hated it. It was so loud and bright and there were always so many people, but Tsumiki loved it, so no matter how much he glared and demanded they go home, he’s pretty sure he bit Gojo’s hand once, he never really wanted to leave. He’d make a whole thing out of it, buying them traditional clothes, the expensive ones that don’t rub, giving them sparklers and way too much sugar. The festivals were quite beautiful actually, he’s sort of annoyed he didn’t appreciate it more then. “We stopped a few years ago,” because Megumi had no reason to go anymore.
“Why?” Kugisaki’s face holds deep judgment, “That’s like- the best place to be for New Year.”
“I’m not answering that.” He tries to hunt for something else they’ll latch onto. “We went to New York one year instead.” It was only because weekends don’t exist to Gojo, he was called out, so he rushed their passports through in a week. He always could cut corners like that. Where money doesn’t work, pretty privilege does.
“What? Woah! Wo-hoah!” Itadori actually seems to radiate at that, not like an adorable fascinating glow, like vibrating at the speed of light and on the edge of nuclear fission. He quickly downs the last of his coffee before the cup inevitably gets knocked from his hands.
“What the fuck? How many countries have you been to?” Kugisaki clings to Itadori while he clings to Megumi. “Here I thought you were from a cardboard box!”
He nearly snorts. She has no idea how true that is.
“Only four others.” He says nonchalantly, trying to elicit a satisfying response.
“Oh, yeah, only four.” She looks ready to throw hands. “You motherfucker, take us next time.”
“None of them were really vacations. Like we did fun stuff, but it was all for work. He doesn’t have to take me anymore.” The very point of Gojo being in Berlin, or Marseille or maybe he’s passing over the Thames by now, is proof of it. “Tsumiki and I got left at resorts a lot. It was cool though.” He holds a lot of those memories with Tsumiki dearly now, he doesn’t want his voice to show it.
He shoves Itadori off his waist a little so he can rest against the wall. “He took us to this big ass waterpark in Australia once, it was hot as shit. It’s like temperature doesn’t even exist there, anything above twenty-five degrees will melt your skin off.”
“Unfair, I want to get my skin melted off!” She crosses her arms kicking Itadori for no real reason.
“Were there actually spiders?” He glances up from where his head rests over Megumi’s legs.
“The fuck do you mean, were there actually spiders? Spiders aren’t exclusive to Australia.” Megumi flicks him on the forehead. “I didn’t see anything that big, I held this massive snake though.”
“Why would you even, what is wrong with you?” Kugisaki glares at him.
“I don’t know, I wanted to, they’re way bigger than the ones here. It was definitely a tourist trap though.” He remembers how freaked out Gojo was by them, he’d practically used Megumi as a human shield against the handler. Eventually, after Megumi mocked him about his first weakness, he touched it, then ranted about how something shouldn’t feel slimy and dry and the same time. “He doesn’t like snakes.”
“Snakes are cool.” Itadori stares off into the distance. “D’you think Gojo-sensei would let us get one.”
“Maybe.” Kugisaki picks at her cuticles, and Itadori flips himself off Megumi, finally. “Let’s ask when he gets back.”
Megumi doesn’t correct them.
“Has your dad taught you how to drive yet? We could so just get one and then ask for forgiveness instead of permission!”
“Not my dad-”
“Sounds like your dad-“ Kugisaki prods wiggling her eyebrows.
“Not.” He uses Itadori as collateral, shoving him into Kugisaki, “Not my dad, he can’t even drive.” He doesn’t think so anyway, he’s never seen him do it. “And you definitely shouldn’t be getting a snake on a whim.”
“He is so your dad.” She teases.
“He’s not even old enough to be my dad.” And he probably shouldn’t be giving away vital clues like that. “He’s more like a weirdly paternal brother.” Sometimes he’s more of a dad. “He’s too annoying to be anything else.”
“Oh really? Is he cute?”
“I- gross, fuck no.” He cringes, “And he’s way too old for you.”
She shrugs, pulling Itadori’s hoodie again, “he sounds boring anyway.”
“I don’t think so!” Itadori chokes against the taut fabric. “You’re dad sounds way cool, Fushiguro!”
“Not my dad.”
“C’mon, give us some of his fatherly advice, Fumigusho!” She struggles against Itadori’s struggling.
“Is that your question?” He wants this to be over so bad.
“Sure.”
It’s harder to answer than he thought it would’ve been. He can’t tell them something they’ve already heard themselves, that wipes out practically everything recent or educational, if Gojo’s brand of teaching even counts as educational.
“He’s not a sit-down advice guy.” Megumi’s eyes are starting to get heavy. “He’s probably more of a bad influence.”
“That’s a lame answer.”
“It’s true, he brought a cursed object to one of my school interviews and almost blew up the building.” Gojo hadn’t even used a veil when he exorcised the curses he attracted. He shrugged a little, my bad, don’t be like your pops, Goomi! To which he scoffed, you’re not my dad.
He did accidentally call Gojo dad once. It wasn’t even that long after they’d met. He was insufferable about it for weeks.
“He’s a sorcerer?”
Oh. Oh, whoops. Ah, shit.
“A curse user actually.” What the fuck kind of lie is that?
Their eyes blow wide with matching huahs? and whauhs?
“Or something..” he shoves his fingers into his eyes, “forget it.”
Then he remembers Gojo gave him advice once, a grand total of one time(s), it was weirdly ambiguous and he’s never figured out exactly what, or who brought it on. Last Christmas, he woke up early, wrangled Megumi out of bed for breakfast, like it was normal, like they didn’t cry in separate rooms for separate people. The way he remembers it now, he’d have said Gojo was in some form of depression, but he’d fooled Megumi then.
It was out of nowhere, he’s pretty sure he was trying on his new shoes or something, Gojo just went quiet behind his camera and said, make sure you hug your friends, Megumi.
But there’s no fucking way he’s tired enough to repeat that to these idiots. So instead, he just lazily flops across Itadori’s chest, winds his arms around Kugisaki's waist and hides his face in his hoodie sleeves.
“What are you doing.” He can practically hear Kugisaki’s stare.
“I’m hugging you, don’t make it weird.” The action makes his face burn and he sort of wishes he’d have a sudden aneurysm, but he has a feeling Gojo is right. Itadori does have an execution looming over him.
“It’s already weird.” But she planted her hands into his hair and on his shoulder, and Itadori had already wrapped himself, like full body curled into a ball, around his middle.
”Do you guys think you could raise a kid.. like- if one just showed up tomorrow.” He doesn’t think he could, he doesn’t understand how Gojo did it twice at once.
“Oh my god,” Kugisaki has sarcasm in her tone, “Fumigusho, are you pregnant? Is that what this is?”
“Never mind, you suck.” He crinkles his nose, because it is a little funny but not enough to laugh at.
He doesn’t remember when he fell asleep, he does remember being woken up several times by stray elbows and knees. Kugisaki had slapped him at some point, and he very nearly considered kicking her to the floor.
It’s half-four when he hears wide footsteps return to the hallway, he makes sure to let his curse snap so Gojo knows he’s absolutely awake and the photo (blackmail) opportunity is completely crushed. He internally groans at the idea of Gojo hearing a lecture all about himself when their class starts in a few hours.
He feels like he should say something. Upon his newly considered childhood, he realises that he sort of indirectly took Gojo’s from him. So he shimmies his way out from the two urchins and quietly runs to the hall before he can disappear. He doesn’t even know what he’s going to say, what the hell could he say?
“Gojo.”
He doesn’t need to call, because he’s already turned and waiting. Still in his uniform, though wearing his glasses instead of a blindfold.
“Goomi.” He echoes.
“You.. um. Why did you take me in?”
He surprises Gojo with the question, he surprises himself with it.
“You asked me to, said you didn’t want to go to the Zen’in.” He says it like a fact, not an answer.
“No,” Megumi accuses, “You never get personal with people. You could’ve given us to someone else.”
“What’s this about?” He tilts his head, taking a long step closer.
“You-” were a kid. “You’re lying about something.”
“You’re dad told me about you, told me to take you in.”
“A Zen’in asking a Gojo.” He says flatly, he’s starting to get annoyed. “Was it pity?” It feels underwhelming, and Gojo is silent for a long moment. He starts to believe he won’t get an answer.
“No, I was alone, I needed someone. You two were exactly that.”
“You weren’t happy.” He doesn’t really know why it took him so long to realise that. Of course he wasn’t happy, how do you raise two kids while becoming the greatest sorcerer of the modern age, live out teenage angst, and still spare enough time to be happy?
“I don’t regret taking you in if that’s what you’re asking.” He reaches towards his hair, and honestly, Megumi’s too tired to stop him. “But no, I wasn’t happy.”
He almost asks if it’s because of his friend he didn’t hug. He doesn’t.
Gojo swipes a palm over his shoulders and rests his head on top of his dark hair, Megumi only had the energy to sink into the hug. “I am happy now. I want you to tell me if you’re ever not happy.”
“Okay.” He says, simply, with far too much emotion in it. “Can we.. go to Kyoto for New Year again this year?”
Gojo laughs quietly, giving him a final squeeze as Megumi hides his face under his ridiculous collar.
“Course we can, Megumi.” He ruffles his hair, and sends him back to his room, “Tell the others they can sleep in, I have stuff to do.”
“Okay.” He repeats, pauses at the door, Gojo waits patiently for him. “Thanks Dad-”
Megumi slams the door behind him, neglecting any further interactions while he’s sleep-deprived and stupidly emotional. He shoves the balls of his hands into his eyes.
The three of them went to Kyoto that year. Gojo was there. Not physically, obviously. Megumi hadn’t seen him since Halloween, but he was there as they stood at the shrine, watching as they opened their fortunes. It’s about the one thing he always was. He was always there.