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At 24, Megumi’s hair began to turn white.
Just a few strands at first, a section of hair at the front of his head that usually would fall in front of his face. Then the hair at the nape of his neck. Then eventually, white hair forms a ring around his head, clashing harshly with his black.
“Maybe you’re becoming senile, Megumi!”
They stand in front of the mirror in their shared bathroom; a ritual that became of daily necessity, as the raven-haired would frantically search through his hair in the morning to look for any new white-haired growth. Itadori could practically see the stress pouring off the other.
Megumi stopped searching and pulled his hands from his hair, whipping around dramatically to face him.
“You think this is funny?”
“No! Of course not, but Megumi, what else am I supposed to do?”
He paused, turning back to lean and grip onto the edge of the sink; Sukuna had been dead for eight years. Is he still within him somewhere? All these years later and the month he spent in the void repressed and hollow haunting him like a ghost on his shoulder. The weight still heavy despite the fact he was no longer a vessel.
Yuji watched him for a moment. For Yuji, Megumi was not the sun, but something else entirely. The crescent moon in conjunction with Venus. A cosmic rose: its beauty not visible to the human eye, but to Yuji, who could stare at Megumi’s back all day, even as he fussed and cried over white strands of hair. To Yuji, Megumi could have back hair, or white hair, and he would still love him the same. Forever painted in constellation to orbit around one another.
“Hey,” Yuji stepped forward and put a hand on his shoulder. Megumi’s grip was released, white knuckles losing tension as he met eyes with Yuji, “We’ll figure this out. Besides, it does not look bad.”
A red tint covered Megumi’s face, who brought a hand with bent fingers up to hide the lower part of his face, a habit since his younger years.
“You think so?”
“Of course.”
They eat breakfast together at their dining table and talk about small nothings.
At 28, Megumi began to lose his Shikigami.
His hair colour had settled after some time, settling into a style that resembled white money pieces as if he chose them to be there. Maki had asked him if he dyed his hair when they saw each other last, and she scrunched up her a nose when he told her it was natural. She said nothing after that about it. Yuta didn’t look up from where he was holding his and Maki’s fussing infant, but Megumi could see the was he paused for a moment, and his eyebrows wrinkled in thought.
The two stayed for lunch and took turns holding Iori, before leaving sometime in the late afternoon.
It was supposed to be an easy mission. For someone of Megumi’s grade. For Megumi. He didn’t even bring Yuji with him with how it should have been a walk in the park. Find the grade two, exorcise the grade two, and go home.
“Well, if you need any backup, let me know!”
“It’s a grade two curse, Yuji, I will literally be fine, we fought Sukuna.”
Step one was a breeze: Megumi found the curse on the second floor of the hospital it was reported in. Step two: kill the curse. Something Megumi has done thousands of times at this point. It was wired into the hard drive in his brain. Engraved into his hands to delicately summon his shikigami.
Megumi had always liked animals. Even before Gojo had found him and Tsumiki, he was entranced by the nature documentaries the two would walk as they ate breakfast before school.
He put his hands together- Piercing Ox should do the trick, he thinks. This curse is fast, but the ox is faster and could ram straight through it. Manipulating his cursed energy into his hands, he made the symbol for use shikigami and prepared to summon it.
Then- nothing.
The shadows did not swirl and shape into an ox. His cursed energy never left his hands. Megumi felt his breath quiver slightly. He remembered being seven, and Satoru telling him about the shikigami he would be able to summon. Being seven, little and full of emotion, he couldn’t control his cursed energy to manifest into his demon dogs just yet. Gojo had ruffled his hair and reassured him that in time, he would be able to summon them with no problem.
But Gojo was not here anymore, and Megumi no longer thought he would have that time. He felt seven again; seven and emotional and small compared to the cursed sprit, that did not care for the fluke in Megumi’s technique and charged straight at him.
The Jujutsu High infirmary still subtly smelt like antibacterial and death, a scent no less familiar to Megumi, in this line of work, and the number of knocks to the head he seemed highly susceptible to when he fought.
Being sat on a cot made him feel like he was fifteen again, being lectured by the joined force of Shoko and Gojo for being ‘reckless’ and that he ‘should have watered for an adult.’ But Gojo was not here, and Shoko did not lecture him this time, only sighed and healed his wounds, telling him to rest for an hour before he could go.
His ears still rang slightly, his vision blurry around the edges, but he would be fine. He was only tired, that was all. The kind of exhaustion that lies deep in your bones. He dug his hands into the quilt, then into the shadows underneath- he could still feel the presence of cursed beings, shikigami. He would go home, rest for longer than usual, and summon each one to check on them. That would be the end of it. No further questions.
Then the infirmary door swung open.
“You said you’d be fine!” Yuji, seemingly possessed by the worry-some nature that Gojo had once displayed towards him, stormed towards where he sat on the bed.
“I’m fine, Yuji, its just,” he paused, swallowing the lump in his throat before averting his gaze, voice quiet and dwindling.
“Hey, hey.” Yuji knelt besides the cot next to Megumi, holding both of his hands, rubbing circles into his palms.
“What happened out there?”
“…”
“Megumi, please,”
“It’s my shikigami. Piercing Ox just, didn’t summon.” His voice wobbled as he trailed off, hands clenching into fists in his lap as he sat cross- legged. Yuji leant back on his feet. Well shit, that’s not good. He continued to caress the other’s hands, before standing up and bringing Megumi’s head to his chest. From this angle, Yuji could see more white hair growing in from the top of his head. He would not tell him.
At 29, for the first time in over ten years, Yuji was afraid.
For the past few years, there had been a change in Megumi. There had always been a serene sort of coolness about him. He reminded Yuji of the sea colliding with rocks. If walks under the moonlight. Of the time of year where cherry blossoms fall and there are everywhere, infectious, but yet exhilarating: the first sign of summer.
But Megumi was not summer. He was early winter, where the sky has not yet begun to snow and ice does not yet quite form over lakes. The kind of winter where its chilly, but the frost does not yet clatter clatter your bones and the sky is still painted blues, greens, and purples. The time of year where everything is orange and you are still in awe by your breath being blown out of your mouth and its visible.
Megumi was cold, and yet he always warmed Yuji up.
But he had grown colder.
He still had cursed energy, he still had his technique, but it was weaker, as if there was a bridging distance between the user and his shikigami. There was a distance between Megumi and his soul. Not like when Sukuna consumed him; not desolate, but like something was now missing.
His hair had grown completely white by now, and there was a shake to his hands, unappreciated and harsh. He was accompanied by his last remaining demon dog at most times now, a sense of comfort, or a reminder that he still has some of his technique, Yuji didn’t know. As a dog, it was loyal and remained whilst all the other shikigami had been condensed from Megumi’s grasp.
It was early December, and Megumi would be thirty in a few short weeks. Long ago, the two had wanted to visit Megumi’s hometown in the Saitama prefecture where he and his sister were raised. But now, it was too cold for that the cold of winter forecasted to set it quicker than usual, and Megumi too weak to do so.
Megumi would usually wake up before Yuji, and today was no different. In the past years, Yuji had grown, both taller and wider. His face had lost the roundness he held in his youth and muscle had been put on in his limbs, back, and chest. He stepped into the kitchen where megumi was leaning against the counter looking out the window, Kuro sat behind his legs leaning against them.
The perk, however, of growing so rapidly in his early twenties, was that he had finally grown taller than Megumi, who was at the perfect height where he could wrap his arms around him and lean his chin on top of his head.
“Sit down, Megumi, let me finish the dishes.” He whispered into hair, pressing soft kisses around his crown. Now white, Megumi sometimes looked like Satoru from certain angles, if you can't see his eyes, and you are looking at a spot where white hair has completely taken over the black. But Gojo was not here.
Later, the two would sit on the couch, half paying attention to whatever shitty rom-com Yuji had put on to pass the time, but were really absorbed in each-other, a full day where they were both at home was a rare occurrence.
“Yuji.” Megumi turned, directly looking at him. Yuji paused the movie, sensing the seriousness in his tone. He cocked his head, letting the other continue.
“I, uh. I think,” he paused, searching around in his head to fund the bitter words. Yuji opened his arms, an invitation he accepted, climbing more until he could press his ear into his chest and hear the ba-dump of Yuji’s heart.
“My shikigami. They’re not destroyed; they would pass on characteristics to the others. It’s like they are still within the technique- just not for me to summon anymore. If that makes sense.” He curls closer to Yuji’s chest, bringing a hand up to his hand and resting his other against his collarbone, tracing his fingers across Yuji’s shoulders.
“So- what, you're losing your shikigami because…?”
“Because I’m losing the technique, Yuji.” He sat up then, with urgency. Ah, Yuji thinks, this is what he’s been worried about. He holds the palms of his hands up and looks into them.
“I still have cursed energy- and can still use shadows, even my domain. But its like my shikigami are passing forward, moving on in a way, Yuji.” He then balls his hands into fists and shoves them into his eyes, rubbing them as he sniffles.
“Losing shikigami like that means they’re moving onto the next user of the technique, to my future successor, Yuji. To grow up along them.”
“Megumi, that’s okay, you can live without your shikigami, you don’t have to be a sorcerer,”
“It means that I’m going to die, Yuji.”
Right there, in the corner of the couch, Yuji wishes he could sink between the cushions and fall off the edge of the world. Whilst Yuji had bulked up massively, and lost baby fat, looking like the perfect image of someone in their early twenties, Megumi, and the others and grown into their late twenties, into their thirties.
Something to do with the death paintings he consumed, everyone figured. Halting his aging. He would have t watch everyone grows old. That was okay. He looked forward to it even; getting to watch his friends live long lives ands help them out.
Now, Yuji would not have the luxury of watching Megumi grown old. He would not see Megumi age and his face wrinkle, lines around his mouth from the few and precious times he would laugh.
Yuji would live for a very long time, he had accepted that, but now he would spend less time with Megumi.
“Are you.” Yuji paused to wish his hand over his mouth. Kuro jumped onto it couch besides then, whining and nussling his nose under Yuji’s arm, tail wagging and hitting against Megumi’s leg.
“Are you sure?”
He sighed, fiddling with his fingers, no longer meeting Yuji’s eyes. Yuji gently cupped his jaw- he would stare into those eyes forever until he no longer could with the time they had left.
“I’m fairly sure. Gojo once said that the positive to hereditary techniques for big clans is that there is usually a lot of archives with information. Maki and I looked through a lot of it.”
“Is what why she got quiet when we met Iori? She knew?” Megumi sighed and looked at him, lips tight. She knew.
“The hair, then the shikigami. It’s like the information they’ve gathered whilst existing within my cursed energy is complete now, and they’re manifesting that information into the next ten shikigami within the technique for the next to use.” He then looked to Kuro, ears bowed and eyes looking at Megumi, like it knows what will happen.
“Demon dogs are usually the last to go, as they’re born to the user. From birth to death, they stay loyal.” He scratches behind Kuro’s ear, earning more whacks to the leg from the dog’s tail, who clambers into his lap.
Megumi leans back into Yuji’s chest, after that, who then holds him in a death grip.
The movie doesn’t get turned back on.
At 29, Yuji and Megumi sit on the rooftop of their apartment buildings, watching the stars.
30 seems impossible to Megumi. Gojo never made it into his thirties. He wasn’t sure whether he would, either. It scares him, suddenly. The idea of dying. There was a time he thought he would die to a curse or murdered by some cursed spirit user. Instead, in some twisted fate because he just can't seem to get as break, he will soon be taken out by his own technique. It wasn’t fair.
“Megumi, hey?” Yuji brings a hand to wipe at tears he didn’t even know had fallen, “what’s wrong?” His breath shudders, before the dam breaks. He all but topples into Yuji’s dumb and sobs into his neck.
“Yuji, I’m not even thirty yet, I don’t wanna die! It’s not fair. Gojo didn’t get to thirty, Tsumiki didn’t even get to twenty! I’m not, its not,” he gasps and sobs and cried out, whilst Yuji just holds him, rocking gently.
His sweet Yuji, who he dragged into all this. His Yuji, whom he stopped from being executed. His sweet Yuji, who rescued him from Sukuna and sat by his bedside as he slept for two months afterward. Yuji, who helped him relearn how to walk after being asleep for so long and being Sukuna’s vessel, who stayed by his side as he shouts, screams, and cries. Eternally young Yuji, who will sit with him until he is gone. Yuji, who will drift along life once he is dead.
Sometime after Megumi’s thirtieth birthday, he collapses. Yuji is heavier than him now, and yet carrying him to bed is the heaviest load he will take. It takes him days to recover from. Megumi grows paler, his hands shake more. Kuro doesn’t leave the bed, either; always laid at Megumi’s feet or next to him in some way.
at some point during this, Megumi tells Yuji to grow old without him. Yuji did not tell Megumi about his prolonged lifespan.Megumi, who wants Yuji to grow old with someone, in time, who will him love and cherish him the way he did. For Yuji, he does not want that.
To Yuji, nothing will seem permanent after. In a hundred years, he will live through his friends’ deaths and then they’re children’s. He will sit through life and death and everything in-between untouched by time. He will watch as stars explode into existence and fade into the abyss. He will look up at the cosmos and see Megumi’s eyes, think of them he explained constellations and nebulas and miss him.
It will be lonely without Megumi around, he thinks.
”hey Megumi, I want you to promise me something.” He looks down, wipes but tears out of Megumi’s eyes.
“Don’t wait for me. I’ll be here a wait, okay? Find Tsumiki, or Gojo, or something. Don’t stick around and see what i become.”
“But then you’ll be lonely.”
Yuji strokes Megumi’s cheek, plants more gently kisses to his crown, and holds him like he weighs but a feather.
“That’s okay, I’ll be okay.”
In 2070, a child is born.
In 2075, that child summons a black wolf and a white wolf.
Yuji weeps.