Chapter Text
Orange, yellow, and blue hues adorn the sky as the sun starts to slowly set, casting a serene and beautiful atmosphere. An agitated flock of birds appears in the sky, their shrill cries carried away by the wind. They disappear quickly over the horizon, desperately fleeing from something – or someone. Megumi honestly couldn’t blame them, as he too would get away from the scene currently playing in front of him, if he could. The only thing stopping him is his pride.
Shouts mixed with the rustle of leaves start to fill the field in front of him, groups of people forming to engage in fights. After a quick mental count, he estimates there are least fifteen people in the field. Recognizing less than half of them to be someone he knows from school. A harsh thud echoes as another classmate falls to the ground; the odds are clearly not in their favor. Megumi already knows this, and in turn, can guess the outcome will not be a pretty sight to see.
Unfortunately, such occurrences were not uncommon at this park. Being a secluded zone didn’t help, either, as it permitted gangs – if you could call that a couple of highschoolers that gathered to loiter – to occupy this space without any regulation. Naturally, gossip traveled fast, town’s people advised against coming here if you valued your safety. And they would not be wrong. Megumi was reluctant to come here – who wouldn’t be? It wasn’t his business if his classmates were getting beat up. He even beat them up himself whenever they stepped out of line. So, why should he care?
Looking back on it, this thought process might have been his downfall. His fellow seniors had repeatedly tried asking for help without success. It wasn’t until yesterday that they finally gave up hope and left him alone. Honestly, it was a much-needed break from the constant chaos that had slowly started to wear him out. Yet, a nagging suspicion lingered throughout the day on the back of his head.
The final bell rang indicating school was over, Megumi wastes no time grabbing his things, stuffing everything carelessly inside his backpack, before getting out of his classroom looking for his sister. It's a habit he had become fond of, as it had taken them years to settle their differences and start acting more mature. He finds her outside near the school gates, talking to someone who Megumi recognizes as Hans, who usually sits next to him.
The closer he got, the more he could distinguish the black eye that adorned his left eye, yellow extending up to his upper cheek. Tension creeps up his shoulders as the scene confirms his worries, of course they were not done. Once he reaches Tsumiki, Hans drops to his knees. “Megumi please, I’m begging you on my knees. You have to help us,” tears welling up in his eyes. Megumi squishes the feeling of compassion that start to rise on his chest. He had already turned them down several times, he could do it again.
Tsumiki steps besides Hans and offers him her hand. “Please, get up,” but Hans merely shakes his head and continues to sob.
There are murmurs behind them, as people start gathering around them. At this rate, it wouldn’t take long before one of the teachers found them, and he could see how this could get taken out of context very quickly. Embarrassment wells up inside him, he didn’t think they would get this desperate. Megumi shots out his hand towards Han’s shirt, dragging him up a bit harshly.
“Quit it already, I’m not going to help any of you,” he grits out.
A hand lands softly on top of his arm, causing him to turn towards Tsumiki. A determined look settles on her face. That look is one he’s encountered enough times to recognize it as trouble. “No,” he says before she can utter a word, releasing Hans and sidestepping him to continue his way towards home. Expecting her to follow, he navigates through the crowd and hurries towards the gates, repeating to himself that he isn’t running away, just avoiding another pointless argument.
Tsumiki silently falls into step beside him, feeling her piercing stare burning into the back of his head. Nothing is said as they enter through the gates of the train. Bustling movement forces him to turn towards Tsumiki, preventing her from getting crushed by any passengers, as they ride quietly.
It stays like that, getting off their stop and following a beaten off path towards their house. It’s feels like a game, whoever endures the silence longer wins. The stakes? Their pride.
Megumi is quite skilled at it, avoiding talking about his feeling comes like second nature to him. However, Tsumiki’s silence begins to unsettle him, contrasting sharply with how she usually wouldn’t stop talking his ear off the second they were together. It was slightly reminiscent of their freshman year, when their only interactions were limited to either to fight or to ask for forgiveness through gritted teeth.
Arriving at their small apartment, Megumi takes off his shoes and slips on his usual worn down slippers. Behind him, Tsumiki finally enters and brakes down.
“Did you know yesterday I heard Reeves say that he was going to become a chef?”
He watches her as she goes through the motions of changing into her pink slippers, “Hmm…I think it fits him well,” he replies tentatively, unsure of where Tsumiki wants to steer the conversation.
“And the other day, Cho mentioned that he wanted to become a pilot. Can you believe it? I told him he couldn’t possibly do that without going more than a month without scratching his car. Dan even offered him a discount once he became a mechanic - ”
Megumi interrupts her, “Are we really going to talk about every classmate’s dreams?”
Tsumiki hums, used to his rude interruptions. “I just happened to think you wanted to know what came out of your little meeting you had with them, you know, the one where you gave them all career advice.”
Heat rises up to his face as a small blush forms on his face. “What? How do you know about – forget it, I don’t want to know.”
Of course, the one thing he didn’t want her to find out came back to bite him. He knows she wont stop teasing him if she learns the details. His blush fades, replaced by annoyance as he decides that tomorrow he would find out who the hell had told her. It would be a tedious task, given that there had been enough people to fill a classroom.
He had invited (read: coerced) them into giving them a presentation he'd whipped out last-minute for a school project. The session was recorded and saved on a USB stick, which he still needed to edit before he could hand it out to his professor. There was a list of seniors as well as juniors that Megumi would have to go through.
Collecting himself, he runs his fingers through his hair and sighs. “Anyway, that doesn’t have to do anything with helping some wannabe gangsters.”
“Look at you! You’re not even scared this is gangsters we’re talking about.”
Megumi rolls his eyes. “They’re just highschoolers, not the mafia.”
“You’re a highschooler too, Megs,” she says with a laugh, poking his side. “So, if it’s not too much trouble, why won’t you help?”
“They got themselves into this mess, so they should be the ones to get out. I already tried warning them before and they just won’t listen,”
“What makes you think they can get out on their own? If they’re insisting so much it could mean that they ran into a stronger group. You can’t deny that someone appears with a black eye or even a tooth missing every week. I think that you already know that the reason they are asking is because they are too weak. Are you going to deny protection to those who need it?”
He lets out a humorless laugh, did Tsumiki think he was some kind of superhero? The mere notion was absurd. He was far from being one. “I never said anything like that.”
“Then it’s settled!” she claps her hands happily.
And it truly was. No matter what and he said after, Megumi’s resolve seemed to crumble further with each passing moment. Tsumiki was truly something else.
This brings him back to the present moment, standing beside a building that offered a strategic vantage point, ideal for a swift assessment. It becomes glaringly clear as to why his fellow seniors are losing. These weren’t just normal highschoolers; their fighting style was much more coordinated and ruthless.
Elbows were being thrown in places they shouldn’t be, cheap shots landing where they would do the most damage. It was evident that they had been coordinated and taught by someone. So he was left with the logical decision to cut the head and the body would follow.
A powerful shout rang out as a body was hurled to the ground – Cho, who lay sprawled and unmoving, groaning in pain. Seeing this, Megumi quickly advances towards the man dominating the field. Standing at least two feet tall, bald, black tattoos snaking across his arms and neck, he looked more like a grown-up man than a highschooler. The probability of him being the head was higher than the rest, not that it mattered right now. “Hey shitface, looks like you’re having fun, why don’t we give it a try?”
After a disappointingly brief fight, Megumi hoisted Cho and takes him towards the edge of the field. “Get yourself together,” voice firm. “When you can, bring the others here.” Dazed, Cho nods weakly.
Megumi turns his attention towards the field yet again, picking out his next target. And the next. And the next. Taking them on in pairs or solo, none of them proved to be strong enough to be close to be labeled the leader. And when asked, all of them refused to tell him, choosing to focus solely on fighting.
His relentless search is interrupted when a flash of pink hair catches his eye across the field. Pausing mid punch, he lets his opponent slump to the ground, and shifts his attention to the unusual sight before him. Perched on a weathered bench is a man with striking pink hair, sprawled out comfortably, legs spread wide, occupying more space than necessary. He's casually sipping from a straw and observing the chaos in front of him with detached interest. Besides him, a white-haired man is standing, deeply absorbed on his cellphone.
Everything about the scene feels disturbingly out of place, deeply unsettling him. Megumi’s instincts push him to move towards them. A shadow looms behind him, attempting to strike. Reacting swiftly, Megumi reflexively turns, landing a sweep kick which sends the attacker crashing to the ground. Without missing a beat, he follows with a harsh kick to the man’s stomach, making sure he wouldn’t be able to get up any time soon.
“You bastard,” the man groans, voice strained as he curled into fetal position.
Ignoring the man, he turns his attention back to his task. Megumi notices that both of his targets are on the move, with the intention of leaving the park. Thinking on his feet, he grabs the man he had just kicked, and with a burst of strength, throws him towards the other’s feet. The man lands with a low grunt, which is yet again ignored, his focus solely on the two figures.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” he demands.
This action halts their movements. They turn to face him, their attention now fully on Megumi. Sharp, brown eyes lock onto him and for a fleeting moment, he feels rooted to his place by the raw power in their gaze. He steels himself, meeting back the look with a defiant glint in his eyes.
“And who might you be?” asks the pink haired man, tone laced with boredom.
“Why should I answer a coward who tried sneaking out the back?”
The white-haired man gives him a mocking smile, “You stupid bug, you clearly don’t know what you’re dealing with.”
Megumi ignores him, “Let’s end this, now.”
“Name,” the pink haired man repeats.
“Megumi,” he says, impatience evident.
“Don’t bore me,” comes the dismissive reply. The man shoves his drink into the white-haired man’s chest, who clutches it somewhat surprised.
The atmosphere shifts in an instant as the man launches towards him. Megumi tenses, instinctively adjusting his posture to doge a punch flying his way. Another strike follows, this time, he leaps sideways, creating an opening. Reciprocating with equal speed, like a madman, he drives his elbow to the man’s jaw. It does nothing to stop him, the man meeting the blow head on, a menacing smile stretching across his face. Megumi hesitates, the same feeling he felt before trying to creep back in.
The distraction costs him, as the man delivers a high kick on Megumi’s stomach, sending him stumbling several steps back, dust rising up around him. The impact stings, but Megumi managed to brace himself just in time, hardening his stomach a millisecond before it hit. Before he can fully recover, the man’s movement shifts again, closing the distance with a swift, fluid motion. A punch is thrown and he ducks in time, launching a low kick in retaliation. The man’s body twists perfectly, dodging the attack and taking advantage of Megumi’s position to deliver a kick towards the back of his head.
Megumi’s face slams to the ground, and for a second, red filled his vision. Reaching back, he grabs the other’s feet and pulls himself with a surge of determination, striking behind the kneecap with a powerful blow. The man staggers, forced to one knee. Hot, liquid pain trickles down his eye as he seizes the man’s head, slamming it against his knee –once, twice, thr –
A searing jab to his ribs sends Megumi stumbling back, his balance faltering as the man gains momentum, rising up to launch another attack on him. He attempts a vicious side kick, but Megumi manages to catch the blow with his forearm, though the force of it pushes him back even more. He grits his teeth and counters with a kick aimed at the man’s legs, but he jumps, avoiding the attack and coming down with an elbow drop that Megumi narrowly dodges.
The two exchange fast-paced blows, their movements a chaotic dance of aggression. The man feints a left jab and then lands a powerful right hook to Megumi’s jaw. The impact is jarring, slamming Megumi back to the floor. Gasping for breath, he feels himself getting dragged up by his shirt, feet barely grazing the ground as he is forced to stand on his tiptoes.
A barrage of punches lands on his face, each one making his vision swim more. Desperate, he starts clawing at the hands gripping his shirt, with no luck. The acrid scent of cooper assaults his sensitive nose, mingling with a faint hint of licorice. As he braces himself for another punch, the blows suddenly stop.
Seconds drag on as his vision slowly returned. The first thing he sees are bloodied knuckles, unmoving, hovering menacingly in the air. As his gaze shifts, he's met with a wild, predatory look on his face, a beast ready to devour his prey. The fist are lowered, instead, they're reaching out towards his face. Megumi recoils as much as he can, but he's held in place by brute force.
It starts out slow, thumb tracing a deliberate path along his mouth and if he didn’t know any better, he could almost call it gentle. The finger catches on one of Megumi’s fangs, stopping, and then, pressing down with enough force to draw out a thin line of blood that ran down the man’s hand. Megumi hadn’t even realized that he had started bearing them. It was something that he had trained himself out of, suppressing his omegan instincts.
“Not bad kid...not bad at all,” the pink haired murmurs with a bloodied smirk before dropping Megumi roughly, making him stumble to the ground. Exhaustion floods through him, sapping every once of strength. His limbs feel like lead and his breaths come in ragged gasps. The metallic taste of blood lingered at the back of his throat.
Shame washes over him as he watches the man casually wipe the blood running at the edge of his jaw, before turning back towards his white-haired goon, “Let’s go, Uraume.”
The man – Uraume, Megumi mentally repeats– appears instantly by his side, a gleeful look was painted on his face. He stops besides the pink-haired man and hands him his drink. Without a second glance, the two of them walk away, fading in the distance, he hears the faint slurping of a straw from an almost empty cup.
Megumi’s defeat feels like a heavy blow to his ego, but he forces himself to focus. With every once of willpower he can muster, he drags himself to his knees, determined. Slowly, wincing with each step as pain radiated through his legs and face. Struggling to hold back tears, he reminded himself that he had never acted like a weak omega and he wasn’t about to start now, fuck.
The walk of shame towards his house is not alone. All his classmates are now gathered together with Cho, as he had ordered him. They shuffle along behind him, moving in a somber pace towards the train station, silence heavy. Inside the train station, some of them make halfhearted attempts to disguise their limps and dried up blood, trying to avoid drawing attention from the police. Megumi ignores the wary glances from passengers as they filled out the left side of the train. Some of them even move towards the other opposite side of the train, fear clear in their faces.
He takes the chance to seat down, sinking into a seat and curling his trembling hands, in attempt to stop them from shaking. The after-effects of adrenaline were still causing havoc on his body. Glancing at his reflection on the train’s windows, he takes in the damage: dried blood was smeared across his lip and jaw, and his jacket looked like it had been dragged through a war zone. He buries his face on his hands, letting out a manic laugh. The sight of him -a bloodied, disheveled mess- seemed almost comical, the irony of looking like a gangster not lost on him.
For the following weeks, there are no distinguishable changes, people continue to get beat up on a regular basis. The only noticeable shift is that no one comes seeking his help anymore. Instead, what he gets is...
“So, there’s an interesting rumor going around,” someone says behind him. “I couldn’t believe my ears when I heard it. No way the great Fushiguro would lose against Sukuna, right?”
Megumi continues packing his things. The classroom's practically empty since five minutes ago, only a few students lingered by.
A rough grip yankes his elbow, pulling him towards his remaining classmates. “Bruises don’t lie, though,” his classmate says as he grins menacingly, intention clear in his eyes.
He grips the offending hand harshly, voice icy. “Back off or you’ll regret it.”
The other boy doesn't step away, instead, he launches a sloppy punch. With ease, Megumi catches his hand, twisting the boy’s arm and shoving him roughly towards a desk, pinning his hands behind his back.
“That wasn’t a warning,” Megumi says tiredly. “It was advice,” he drives the other’s head against the desk hard enough to make his body go limp.
Releasing the now unconscious body, he turnes towards the lingering students. They scramble in panic, gathering their things and fleeing. The classroom once again returns to an uneasy calm.
Two months pass as his face heales nicely, leaving visible no scars. Strangely, Tsumiki remains silent on the matter, likely guessing the outcome of the fight and deciding on avoiding the topic as much as possible. In turn, Megumi doesn’t press the issue, silently thanking her for a much-needed break from all of it.
Except, he doesn't need it, as whispers and gossips regarding the topic seem to come at a full stop. Han’s black eye finally healed and fewer classmates miss class due to injuries.
It was almost like they could all breathe again, not having to wait with bated breath on who would be next. For the sake of his peace of mind, Megumi decides to just not question it at all, pushing down ugly thoughts that try to set in his head. Everything was good now.
And so, life continues just like that until the year endes and he finally graduates. It's also around this time that Tsumiki falls into a coma.
A year passes by in the blink of an eye, marked by countless hours spent in the sterile confines of the hospital. It had all been so sudden: one moment they were curled up in the sofa eating dinner together, watching crappy tv, and next, she collapsed on the floor, food scattered besides her.
The diagnosis was a rare case of beta block, the doctor had explained to him. Her hormones had decompensated, causing her body to get confused and try to present as something else other than a beta. Failing to do so, her glands had become blocked. Which, in turn, made her body enter a state of shock and shut down, resulting into a coma.
There were only so many treatments she could take, and they had tried them all out. Unfortunately, she wasn’t responsive to any of them. Megumi’s research, based on open records of people who had gone through the same thing, resulted in a disheartening discovery. There had only been three more cases across the globe in the last fifty years. All but one were still in a coma.
The survivor, aged nineteen, was called Junpei. Finding more information about him was like chasing shadows. An old newsletter confirmed this had happened in Tokyo, but, beyond that, Junpei seemed to have vanished without a trace. Megumi tried going though social media, medical forums, even contacted doctors in Japan up to no avail.
His frustration peaked on a Thursday afternoon when he received a message that someone had replied to a post he had made on a forum. Hope raised on his chest, as he quickly opened it, only to find the following: ‘Why don’t you try to go to Tokyo and ask for him yourself? LOL’
Anger fills his head, Megumi’s grip tightening on his cellphone, knuckles turning white, before hurling it across his bed, the device skidding to a halt with a muted thud. He storms out of his bedroom, slamming the door behind him with a force that echoed his frustration. Grabbing his backpack, which he had prepared the day before, he sets out to the hospital once more, trying to calm the raging storm inside him before he arrived.
As he lays besides Tsumiki on his makeshift bed, the comment from the forum post haunts him every time he closed his eyes. He wasn’t trying to entertain a douchebag’s comment, but his brain fixated on it against his will. Frustrated, he shifts uncomfortably in the floor, gnawing thought of going to Tokyo. They lived in Osaka, so taking the bullet train to Tokyo wasn’t out of the question. Where would he even begin, though? There where thousands-no- millions of people living there. There's also the fact that leaving his sister behind makes his heart twist and head hurt just to think about it. He spends the night like that, tossing and turning, drifting in and out of a fruitless sleep.
Sunlight starts to slowly fill the room as a new morning comes. A knock's heard as a nurse opens the door and walks in. Megumi decides that he's had enough of laying on the floor, sitting up and gathering his things. The nurse cast him a sympathetic glance, turning back on her heel and coming back shortly with a cup of coffee. “Here boy, drink up, you look like you need it,” she says, voice raspy with age.
Megumi accepts it, thanking her before taking a seat on one of the chairs that the hospital provides for visitors. He puts it aside and rummages through his backpack, finding his suppressants and popping one on his mouth, washing it down with a gulp of bitter coffee.
Meanwhile, the nurse finishes checking up on Tsumiki, writing her vitals on her notepad before turning her attention at him. “She’s the same,” she says gently. “No change from yesterday,” she pauses. “But you have, what’s on your mind?”
Megumi’s response is a slight shake of his head as he sips on the bitter coffee, thoughts tangled and uneasy.
“Come on, entertain an old woman,” she coaxes, approaching him on slow but steady steps.
Reluctantly, he puts down his cup, a sigh of defeat leaving his lips. He had seen her often enough to know she was the head of the nurses, and it wouldn’t sit well with him to be on her bad side. He tells her an abridged version of what had been going on in his head, words laced with frustration. She listens attentively, eyes never straying from him.
“I’ll tell you a story,” she says with a soft smile. “I’ve known Dr. Haruka since before he was a doctor. In a way, he was like you– his mother fell ill and was brought to this hospital. Dasper disease, a nasty case,” she twists her mouth in displeasure.
“He was on his fourth year of Medicine, you see. At first, he was at a loss of what to do, as this disease is slow but quite lethal. He used every tool at his disposal at school, even reaching out for the help of other doctors. I won’t bore you with the details, though, the important part is that he ended up creating a new treatment. It has now been twenty years since, his mother still visits and brings the most delicious cookies,” she trails off with a fond look, letting him soak it all in.
“Sometimes, cases like this take drastic measures to succeed, don’t you think?” she turns to look at the clock behind Megumi.
“Oh dear, I’m afraid I have to leave as I have other patients to attend,” she says as she makes her way towards the door. “Don’t worry about her, she is in the care of the most capable nurse, after all,” she winks at him before closing the door behind her.
A little dumbfounded, Megumi takes his time sipping his coffee, her words echoing in his mind.
And maybe it was the coffee, or the pill he had just taken, but clarity suddenly pierced through him. He realizes with startling intensity, that if there was a slim chance of finding a cure, or even something that could help Tsumiki, he would take it. He was done sitting around waiting for a miracle. Instead, he was going to create one.
The process of application and admittance is not something he considers to be a challenge, although he does have to brush up a bit on his studies of alpha/beta/omega biology. Every time the subject was brought up, the words seemed irrelevant, uninteresting. Society is still a long way from ignoring these second-class genders, but Megumi is fortunate enough to be able to sidestep most societal norms, by using the preconceived bias that omegas were inherently weak and delicate, to his advantage.
Although he typically passes as a beta, there had been instances where someone had gotten close enough to detect traces of lemongrass and ginger clinging on to him– scents that fell on a grey area and could be mistaken for an alpha. This, combined with occasional scent patches to deter pre-heat scents, which weren’t suppressed by the pill, was more than enough.
He races through preparations to find accommodation in a little suburb in Tokyo, just forty minutes away from the top medicine school in Japan. He signs the lease and receives the keys the same day. The apartment isn't anything special, small and basic, used to house students with the bare minimum. The neighborhood isn't particularly dangerous, but it isn't by any means safe at night either. In the end, he took what he could get with limited amount of time and money.
Before leaving for Tokyo, Megumi visits Tsumiki one last time. He holds her hand and promises her that he would visit frequently. Committing into memory every aspect, from her slightly pale face, to her loose brown hair, as he doesn't want to come back and find her in worse health. A fear that is not left unchecked, as he squeezes her hand one more time and reluctantly lets her go. There is no other way.
Getting out into the hallway, he passes by the same nurse. Out of courtesy, he thanks her and tells her that he won't be back in a while, hoping that she would continue providing the same care as she had done in the last year. To his surprise, she pulls him into a hug, wishing him the best.
Megumi tenses a bit before tentatively returning the hug, “Thank you,” voice thick with emotion.
At that moment, it felt like a little bit of pressure is lifted off his shoulders. Everything was going to be okay, he repeated to himself. It had to be.