Chapter Text
The point of the matter was that Megumi Fushiguro’s job was simple. Yes, there was planning involved, and strategising and painstakingly long nights memorising—and it might have taken him a couple of months to feel really in tune with it, like he had tamed a wild animal rather than being pulled around aimlessly by one but, it was instinctual—he was more or less born for this. He knew how to control his nerves, how to utilise his own adrenaline, and, most importantly, how to deal with unexpected situations. The point of the matter was that Megumi Fushiguro’s job should have been simple, in theory, but, Satoru Gojo—all 6’3” of cocky arrogance, made sure it was not.
“Relax, Megs, all you have to do is drive,” Gojo had drawled, his black tactical mask finally covering the last of his smug expression. “In fact, for the first 12 minutes, you don’t even have to drive, you just have to wait. I know you can manage that.”
Megumi glared at the two extra pair of eyes Gojo had obnoxiously drawn onto his mask under his sockets, and adjusted his black cap pointedly—pulling it down lower to obstruct more of his face. His dark hoodie went up on top of it afterward. “I am relaxed,” he gritted through his teeth, “you’re just overly casual it makes everyone else seem tense.” His gaze flicked over to Geto for support.
“Don’t drag me into this,” Geto didn’t even look up. “Satoru, if you’re done suiting up—
“—more like done being annoying—” Megumi scoffed.
“—then come and pack your bag. It’s bad luck to get someone else to do it for you, remember.” Geto offered in an attempt anyway.
“You guys always team up on me, it’s no fair.” Gojo sulked, walking over to the foldup table Geto was standing by. “Suguru, why do you always take Megumi’s side, huh?” He tactlessly threw his pack together and zipped it up roughly. “I’m just trying to lighten the mood.”
“I don’t need you to lighten the mood, I need you to get your head screwed on straight so you don’t fuck this up for all of us.” Even Geto choked a little in shock at Megumi’s response.
“Megumi!” Gojo gasped, hand coming up to clutch at his own chest, “Who’s been teaching little Megumi these words? Leave that to the grownups, alright?”
“I’m going to fucking murder you.”
“Suguru—, what’s your getaway driving like? We might need a replacement soon.”
“Satoru. Get in the car.”
The drive, like always, was mostly silent. Gojo typically, for usually the only time in his life, had nothing to say on the drive towards a target. Geto had briefly gone through their timings one last time mostly for Megumi’s benefit but, once they were close enough that they could see the building, the car was left quiet.
“Alright. See you in 12 minutes, Shadow.”
“Remember, you just have to wait—” Gojo sing-songed his way out of the back seat alongside Geto.
Megumi gripped the wheel tightly for a millisecond before letting his annoyance subside. He pulled out, leaving the back alleyway to park up somewhere more discrete and, as Gojo had said, wait.
11 minutes and 45 seconds. He just had to wait 11 minutes and 45 seconds then pull back up to the same point for extraction.
The first couple of times Megumi had done this, he would fidget anxiously, eyes darting at every tiny disturbance with his phone resting on his bouncing thigh, stopwatch open on his screen counting up steadily. Now Megumi didn’t even look at the clock until it was almost time—he could go by feeling alone. Recently, he had thought about bringing a book to start reading. Although Gojo’s irritating bickering filling Megumi’s ears had he ever found out had snuffed out that idea. Oh, forgi~ve me. Here we are risking our lives while you’re lazing around reading about the Portuguese. Are we disturbing you, little Megumi? Should I find another getaway driver?
“Shadow,” Megumi muttered, rolling his eyes to himself. It was a nickname Gojo had given him that apparently had stuck. And Megumi thought it was as accurate as anything—Megumi always was waiting in the shadows—he just didn’t want a nickname to begin with. Especially because in response Gojo had declared they all should have one and now insisted on being referred to as Six Eyes whenever they were on target. And Geto, this time, had sided with Gojo, agreeing it would be safer to use aliases. The point of it was though that Gojo—or Geto—was much shorter than calling Six Eyes or Uzumaki over the radio and Megumi didn’t understand how they couldn’t comprehend that.
‘Ah, we’re gonna need an early extract.’
“What??” Megumi grabbed the radio while putting it in reverse. Only 8 minutes had passed.
‘Extract, now.’ Geto repeated, panicked and slightly airy.
“Ten seconds to EP.”
‘Make it 5.’ Gojo’s voice crackled in his ear.
Both the passenger and rear car doors opened on the same side the instant Megumi had pulled up. He hadn’t even parked, shifting gears and taking off again before the doors were even fully closed. This was why Megumi was driving.
“What happened?” He glanced a look over to Gojo who was in the front passenger seat (great) and to where his hand was pressed up against his lower left-hand side.
Gojo pulled off his mask and balaclava, throwing both down onto the floor at his feet, “Oh, you know, we got fucking KS-ed,” he relayed way too calmly for Megumi’s liking, wincing only when Megumi took a corner excessively hard.
“You what? By who?”
“You think I fucking know, M—Shadow!?” He growled then, finally. “We didn’t stay around to chat!”
“Shadow, circle round the front, we might still be able to catch them.”
“Yeah, on it.” Megumi flicked his eyes into the review mirror, making brief eye contact with Geto. Geto broke it first, turning towards the window. They were both acting like sulking house cats after a fight, slinking into themselves. What’s up with them, was something going on?
Geto then slid across into the middle seat. “They took the kill chip,” His gritted voice practically by Megumi’s ear now he was sitting forward, leaning across the centre console.
“I figured,” Megumi responded, making a left along the front of the building. “What am I looking for here?”
“I don’t know, ask Six here—you saw them, right? While you were sightseeing out the fucking window?” And okay, something definitely going on then.
“White Audi TT,” Gojo muttered.
Megumi scanned the intersection, eyes catching on the multiple white sedans and coupes that were littering the road. “Gonna need a little more help here.”
“Just forget it,” Geto sighed, falling back against his seat.
“They’re up ahead, behind the dark blue Honda,” Gojo mumbled, and Christ, Megumi wanted to tell him to stop acting like a kicked puppy.
Megumi pushed forward, swerving in and out between the remaining cars blocking their way until they were only a few behind the Audi. “We could report them?” He wondered aloud, weighing up their options. “I don’t know what our other options are, did you get a good look at them?”
“No, they just call me Six Eyes because I'm so goddamn pretty,” fell out of Gojo’s mouth sarcastically, “Of course, I fucking got a good look at him—when he sliced me in my fucking stomach.”
Hand on the gearstick, Megumi took them up closer, slipping between the Honda and the Audi. “So, we following them, or not?” He twisted his head towards Geto and then back to Gojo when neither replied. “How much was it again?”
“20 million.” One of them replied—Megumi didn’t care to take note of who—probably Geto.
“Fuck,” he hissed. “Alright, pack your shit in your bags.” Megumi pulled out into the lane next to the Audi, keeping in speed with the other car. “How many?”
“Two,” Gojo replied, stuffing his balaclava and mask into his bag. Geto did the same. “Just the driver and that kill-stealing piece of shit.”
Megumi kept his eyes forward, edging the accelerator a little more to have an inch on the car. The Audi veered off into the exit lane.
“Megs, fuck, they’re getting away!” Gojo tried to reach over and turn the steering wheel after them. Megumi shoved him off.
“Shut up and let me drive, would you!?” He wanted to drill into him for trying to do his job for him, but he was too focused on switching lanes without causing an accident.
It took Megumi no time to catch up, pulling behind the Audi again on the one-lane exit lane. He could see the driver’s eyes in their revision mirror, catching on Megumi’s—although he wouldn’t have known it with their tinted windows—before flooring it off down the exit ramp.
“Fuck!” Gojo hissed. “Get closer, fucking ram ‘em into the side rail.”
“No, back off a little, let them panic—we can still play it off as coincidence.” Geto rebutted, hand moving to rest on Gojo’s shoulder but he only shoved it off.
“And risk letting them get away? No way.”
“You let them get away in the first place,” Geto spat, moving completely to the seat behind Gojo now in some sort of childish punishment.
“Can you both shut the fuck up? You can argue about whose fault this is later. I’m trying to drive here.” It was too obvious they were following them now and they had nothing they could do about it, so Megumi climbed his speedometer telling them both to put their seatbelts on.
The Audi TT was fast, no doubt about it. Megumi had driven one once before. He knew how well they drove and how quickly they could climb so once they were off the exit ramp and they could get around the car in front of them, Megumi would have to floor it to catch up. That wasn’t a problem. Gojo and Geto finally kept quiet, and let Megumi drive. Megs, all you have to do is drive. He repeated over and over inside his head, using Gojo’s voice as an antagoniser. He tried to clip the rear of the car once they had returned to a multilane but, the Audi still had an inch on Megumi. Foot almost to the floor, Megumi then pulled out again, swerving across the lane and breaking. He prayed the other driver would break in time too, he really didn’t want to leave his baby at the shop for too long, and besides, he hadn’t had a crash since he started driving last year. The Audi skidded abruptly, but stopped nonetheless, before reversing up and turning left. Megumi swung it around, shooting off after them, still in full pursuit.
When they both shot through an intersection, a red Nissan Pulsar narrowly missing Megumi’s black WRX, Megumi was finally starting to have fun.
“Let’s forget about it. That was too close, someone’s gonna end up hurt.” Geto voiced over from the backseat.
Megumi ignored him. Gojo was already hurt anyway, and he wasn’t going to crash into anyone who wasn’t the Audi TT.
They had the smallest amount of air cutting a roundabout and Megumi swerved a tiny bit on the landing.
“I think we should just forget about it,” Geto repeated again, leaning back over the centre console as best he could from his seat. “Gojo?”
“Megs, yeah, let’s cut our losses.” Gojo acquiesced, one hand still pressed to his side, the other pushed flush against the dash.
Megumi shifted gears, really revving up now, not wanting to lose them through the next intersection. “Hold on,” he urged, “I can get them.” It was getting dangerous now, and realistically the Audi just had too much power on the WRX—no matter how much Megumi wanted to win.
As they pulled up closer to the intersection, the amber light just turning red, the Audi went through. Megumi anticipated they were only about 3 seconds behind them, probably less if they were counting milliseconds, but there was no way they’d catch up if they got stuck behind it.
“Megs, slow down.”
He floored it, the lights on red but still going through. It couldn’t have been red for long, although must have been just enough for the cross-section to turn green. He did see the SUV coming towards them but, at their speed, there was nothing he could do. Megumi knew to let go of the wheel instantly.
Spinning out wasn’t all that disorientating—not when Megumi knew how to calm his nerves and utilise his adrenalin. He slammed his foot on the break, skidding across the asphalt to the sound of a drawn-out car horn, and held his head back against his headrest until they finally came to a stop. The airbags were blown and Gojo groaned roughly from beside him.
But no one said anything until a stranger ripped open the driver’s side door—Megumi quick to take his hoodie off and leave it behind him on his seat. They looked ridiculous in their all-black clothing, but at least it was casualwear and not anything obvious like full tactical gear. Megumi heard the franticness of the lady who had come to help them, asking if they were okay, and when Megumi got out on shaking legs, pushing past her to look down the straight, the Audi was clearly gone.
“Is everyone alright?” Megumi rushed, turning back towards the SUV that had gone head-on into the back end of their driver’s side. He thanked himself for telling Gojo and Geto to put their seat belts on earlier, and that Geto had moved over to Gojo’s side and not his.
The SUV driver was already out of their car, storming past the crumpled front end, but Geto intercepted her and calmed her down easily. How she had managed to escape completely uninjured was more than a relief. Gojo hadn’t gotten out of the car yet, and when he finally did, he had Megumi’s zip-up hoodie on, covering whatever injury he had yet to reveal fully to Megumi.
Megumi wanted to run but that would only cause them more trouble. He was sure Yaga could organise the insurance easily but, absolving a hit-and-run was definitely beyond his reach. He didn’t even want to properly look at the damage to his car, glancing a look at Gojo to see if he had clocked it yet.
“Do you want to sit down?” Gojo asked, gesturing over to the sidewalk. He hated it when Gojo was like this.
Gojo never got angry at Megumi. He never yelled at him, never really even scolded him, and Megumi thought that that was worse than anything.
When Gojo had first taken Megumi in he had promised he would never try to act like a father to Megumi. Only, sometimes, Megumi wished that he would. His biological father had been more than a piece of shit. He wasn’t even sure what had actually happened to him—one day Gojo had just turned up and asked Megumi if he wanted to get out of the hellhole he was currently stuck in. Megumi agreed—His father hadn’t been home in a very long time. He brought Gojo inside and they had packed some of his things. It was Gojo who had actually encouraged Megumi’s interest in fast cars and racing. He asked Megumi if he had any toys that he wanted to bring but Megumi shrugged and said he didn’t own any. The very next day Gojo had taken Megumi shopping, and when he pointed to a single, tiny, hot wheels, Gojo had bought him about 15.
When he was old enough, like actually old enough to be trusted, Gojo had asked if Megumi wanted to drive for them. Megumi had been offended. You want me to drive you around like a butler or something? Drive yourself around, you freak. He sulked, wondering what on Earth Gojo even needed to be driven around to. But Gojo only laughed, pulling Megumi into his side and his hand threading through his already messy hair. Oh, my silly little Megumi. Suguru’s right—You’re gonna fit right in.
The point was, that Gojo never fathered Megumi.
Maybe if he had he wouldn’t be stuck in this mess in the first place. If Gojo had told him to straighten up and get a real job or stop playing around with dangerous things like fast cars, then maybe Megumi wouldn’t have been pulled out of one hellhole and straight into another.
Gojo should have been furious right now. Not only had he almost killed someone, or killed one of three of them, but he let the TT—and along with it, the kill packet— disappear.
“It’s alright, Megs. We didn’t need the money.” Gojo’s voice was echoed out by sirens approaching.
Back at the house though, it was a different story.
“Are you out of your fucking mind!?” Geto dragged Megumi by the front of his shirt, pushing him down onto the couch. “Satoru, where are you—are you not going to—” he threw his hands up in the air, lost for words.
Sometimes Megumi felt like Geto was more of a father than both his biological dad and Gojo combined.
Gojo eventually appeared from an adjacent room, mumbling through the fabric of his t-shirt clamped between his teeth. “Relax, Suguru. No one died.” His hands were preoccupied with plastering a bandage to his lower abdomen. When he did drop his hem, shirt falling back down to cover him, he looked up to where Geto was staring incredulously. “What?”
Geto’s fingers pinched the bridge of his nose. “No one died?” Gojo winced slightly. “No one died? Oh well, by all means, let us celebrate then! Should I call up Riko from the fucking grave and tell her the bar is so fucking low that it’s a great day when our driver doesn’t fucking die on the fucking job?”
Megumi cringed. He wasn’t around when Riko was here—he thinks from memory she had been killed in an accident the year or so before Gojo had come and found him—but he knew that she was killed when Gojo, Geto, and her were on target. She had been their driver at the time, younger than Megumi when he started driving. Maybe that was because Geto refused to let someone so young drive for them again—Megumi wasn’t sure. And he sure as hell wasn’t going to ask.
“Suguru, that’s not what I meant.” Gojo forced a breath out through his nose. “It was an accident, right, Megs? He was only trying to get our packet back. He’s sorry. Right, Megs? And besides, it’s thanks to his driving that none of us, or that other driver, are even injured.”
“Yeah, the packet that you fucking lost.”
Megumi took this as his cue to leave, standing up from the couch slowly and moving to go grab a pair of keys.
“Where do you think you’re going, Fushiguro?” Geto cut across him, hand pressed against his chest to stop him from moving.
“To the garage. To see Choso.” Megumi simply replied, sidestepping and continuing.
“To the garage?” Geto repeated, looking over at Gojo for his input.
Gojo chucked Megumi a set of car keys—not the ones he would have chosen, but that didn’t matter, really. “Suguru, leave him alone. He’s more use at the garage than here getting chewed out by you.”
Geto laughed, a little nastily. “Right, God forbid Satoru or his little Megumi have to own up to their mistakes.”
“Okay, fine!” Megumi snapped, turning around to face Geto. “I made a mistake—I’m sorry, alright? But it’s not my fault you two lost the kill in the first place so work that out between yourselves—I’m out of here.” He huffed, storming off seething. “And it better be fucking sorted when I get back or I’ll quit!”
Satoru let the rumble of the engine disappear slightly before he let out a sigh and plonked himself down on the couch. “One driver dead, one driver quit, now you’ve done it, Suguru,” he nudged Suguru’s knee from where he was still standing in front of the couch.
“Satoru, that’s not funny.”
“’s a little funny.”
Suguru sighed, rubbing his entire face, and then chose to sit down next to Satoru. “So,” he paused, not looking at Satoru. “Are we going to talk about what happened?”
Satoru bristled. “Do we have to?”
Suguru continued looking forward and sniffled awkwardly. “Probably—I mean, fuck, Satoru, you tried to kiss me!”
“Ugh—I know, okay! I’m sorry!” Satoru cried, standing up and pacing. He felt like he wanted to jump out of his own skin. He didn’t want to talk about it, why couldn’t they just sweep it under the rug and chalk it up to adrenaline, nerves, or something? “It was—it was stupid—a mistake.”
“You can say that again.” Suguru snorted. “Lost us 20-mill.”
“C’mon, that wasn’t entirely my fault. We were past all that by the time we entered the room.”
“Well, I wasn’t in the right head space anymore. What the fuck, Satoru?”
“I don’t know!” Satoru wined, “Can we please forget about it?” He moved to sit back down on the couch but felt too uncomfortable.
“Are you, like—?” Suguru gestured stupidly with his hand.
“Am I what?”
“Like—Uh, forget it. Yes, we can forget about it.” Suguru stumbled, pulling his hair tie loose and then tying his hair up again—a nervous tic. “What are we gonna do about Fushiguro?”
“We?” Satoru snorted. “You mean what are you gonna do? You’re the one who chewed him out.”
“Well, someone had to.”
Satoru finally resumed his seat on the couch now, the tan leather feeling too cool against his hot body, even under his clothes. “He’ll be fine. He’ll have forgotten all about it by the time he gets home. Trust me, Megumi loves the garage.”
“Two weeks?” Megumi repeated, staring blankly at a guy he had never seen at the garage before—Megumi would have remembered.
“Ha, yeah sorry, dude,” the new guy laughed awkwardly, hand coming up to scratch the back of his hair. “Maybe? Probably three? There’s a lot of repair work we have to do, and yours is not the only one in the shop right now. The rear panel, rear door, rear wheel and suspension. There’s frame and structure damage, and the airbags were deployed. And we will have to check the sensors. I can give you a quote, but realistically, we couldn’t start on it until next week, anyway.”
Megumi let the guy rattle on, looking over his shoulder to where his car was sitting idly on the shop floor. It was fucked, clearly, but three weeks? “Where’s Choso?”
“Huh? Oh, ah, he’s out back, why?”
“Just—just tell him Fushiguro is here.”
“Fushiguro… Alright.” He shrugged, eyeing Megumi cautiously before disappearing for a moment.
Megumi crossed his arms and waited, annoyance flooding his expression. Gojo was gonna flip—not at Megumi of course, but just in general. He looked at the crumpled in side of his S4 STI Sport and wanted to cry.
“Fushiguro, huh? You must be a pretty important guy,” the kid returned with a sheepish smile on his face. “Sorry, I didn’t realise, Choso said don’t worry—come out back and we will work something out.”
Megumi followed behind the kid, eyeing his hair from behind. What kind of dumb hair colour was that anyway? And it surely couldn’t be natural.
“Fushiguro’s here.”
“Hey,” Megumi lifted his head a little in greeting, while Choso rolled out from underneath a 370z. Megumi itched it ask who it belonged to.
“Fushiguro,” Choso replied, wiping a smudge of grease across his nose. “I saw the damage,” he whistled. “Does Gojo know?”
“Yeah.” Megumi sighed, looking away out of guilt. “But, c’mon, three weeks? You know I’ve got work to do.”
Choso had stood up by now, swinging his arm over the new kid and ruffling his hair a bit. “Ignore that, Yuji didn’t realise it was your ride out there.”
“Sorry,” The kid—Yuji—offered again.
“But we won’t get a start on it tonight, sorry. It’s Yuji’s first day, I promised I wouldn’t make him work too hard. Gotta be a responsible older brother, you know.” Megumi didn’t know. “Come by tomorrow and we can sort it out?”
“Sure. Just—just don’t tell Gojo how bad it is, alright?” Megumi pleaded.
Choso laughed, “he’ll find out anyway when he inevitably gets the invoice.”
Megumi sighed. It was true. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”
“Bye, Fushiguro!” Megumi heard Yuji call out after him when he left. "I'm sorry about your car!"
Since when did Choso have a brother, anyway?