Chapter Text
14th April 2023, 3:22PM
It had been five years since the flames of the battle in Shinjuku had singed through Gojo’s nose. Five years since the King of Curses’ reappearance into the modern world. Five years since he saw the face of the thing wearing his best friend’s face, five years since he had been sliced in half and bisected like a sandwich on a cutting board, and five years since he had last seen Megumi’s eyes open.
In the five years since Megumi had practically been turned into a living corpse. If ‘living’ could even be considered in the state he was in. Megumi’s body, soul, and mind had practically been destroyed after Sukuna had taken over his body, effectively shattering the young teenager from the inside out. Although Gojo had also been cleaved cleanly in half from the waist down, he had slowly recovered over the years, regaining his title as ‘The Strongest’, yet there was nothing that the ‘Strongest’ could do when Megumi had become a ghost at Gojo’s own hands. He had activated his domain five times in his battle against the King of Curses, and being the contemptible bastard that he was, Sukuna had figured out a strategy to transfer the brain damage from the domain onto Megumi’s soul.
Gojo clenched his jaw tightly at the memory of that fateful day. Even though it was painfully obvious that Gojo’s sole purpose was to exterminate Sukuna from the Land-of-the-Living, he had never meant to hurt Megumi, and the boy’s comatose state and shattered physical state was collateral damage. However, no matter which perspective Gojo had looked at the situation, he knew that deep down in his soul, Megumi, his student, his little boy, was now practically deceased, at the hands of his own mentor. The same hands that had taught the boy shadow puppets, the same hands that would patch wounds with bandaids, and the same hands that fired multiple Hollow Purple towards the King of Curses, and the same hands that had opened five domains on his boy’s mind and soul.
It was painful, almost agonising, to acknowledge the fact that Megumi, a youthful teenager whom Gojo had known before the prospect of becoming a teacher was even in his head, was now a shell of the boy he once knew. The same teenager who was now silent, thin, and unmoving, lying under fluorescent lights with machines rhythmically beeping around him all day, wires and tubes running across his body like snakes. Now, five years later, despite physically being twenty one years old, Megumi still looked so young; long, wispy eyelashes, spiky, sea urchin-like hair, and pale, soft skin that felt as delicate and cold as glass when Gojo would press the back of his hand against the boy’s cheek.
Gojo observed the bed from the doorway of Megumi’s hospital room and listened to the machines once more, leaning nonchalantly against the frame. Three years ago, Shoko had decided that it would be beneficial for Megumi to be moved to the hospital, stating that the school would not have ample resources to treat the boy. Now, Gojo observed Megumi’s chest rise and fall slowly along to the breathing machine situated right next to him. Gojo slowly approached him, taking care to not step too hard across the linoleum floor, as if Megumi would wake from the noise. He gazed down at Megumi with the same cerulean eyes that had watched the boy wither, and watched as his cursed energy sputtered about. It was impossibly weak, as it had been for the last few years, flickering and dancing around sporadically. Yet, after all this time, Gojo had never even considered the prospect of withdrawing life support. He still needed Megumi to hear him say sorry, to go on his knees and beg for forgiveness. To cry at his bedside and kiss his warm cheeks. Gojo needed Megumi to know that he had never wanted to hurt him.
However, all Gojo could do was sit on the rickety stool placed next to the bed, that had only been replaced a year ago, and squeeze Megumi’s hand lightly.
“Good morning,” he whispered, expression morphing into dejection when he heard no reply. He placed an elbow on his knee and leaned forward, observing Megumi’s sunken cheeks. Five years later, he still looked so young, and even though he had visibly lost a drastic amount of weight, with all of his limbs looking hollow and stick-like, and his skin was pale, almost as white as a sheet as it stretched over his bones.
Gojo watched Megumi breathe exclusively through the help of a machine, and he finally sighed quietly, leaning backwards. It didn’t seem like he was waking today, either. Gojo scratched at his eyes from under his blindfold, feeling the fluorescent lights through the black fabric. He had a meeting with the new first years soon, and he couldn’t afford to keep them waiting, like he had done for the last two other meetings. Gojo flung himself forward, pecking Megumi softly on the forehead, as if he were scared that Megumi would be mad at him when he felt Gojo’s lips against his head. Yet Megumi never responded, so Gojo ogled at him for a few more moments, before finally giving up, and giving Megumi’s hand a light squeeze again. Even with the Six Eyes, the Limitless, and all the strength in the world and more, he could not provide a definitive answer on when Megumi’s eyes would open.
“It’s okay. I’ll wait a little longer.”
****
14th April 2023, 3:56PM
“What took you so long? Your knees have gone knobbly or something?” Nobara bellowed from the classroom, sensing his presence. Gojo guffawed as he slid open the door, greeting Nobara, Yuji, and the five students sitting on weirdly separated desks. The two former students leaned nonchalantly against the front desk, with Nobara twirling the front locks of her hair with her fingers as Yuji chatted with the students. Gojo had not yet become familiar with their names, as the two best friends had taken over his role of teaching the first years, and he never had many opportunities to interact with them face-to-face. He wasn’t complaining, th ough, as he was certain that the two were more than capable of guiding the students just as he had done half a decade ago. Gojo, on the other hand, had taken over Yaga’s role four years ago as ‘Principal of Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College’, or as Yuji called it; the ‘Princo-bro’, as the other title was full of unnecessary jargon.
“He was visiting Fushiguro, remember?” Yuji whispered, elbowing Nobara gently in the ribs. Gojo didn’t point it out, but he noticed the slight sag in Nobara’s shoulders when the words escaped Yuji’s lips, and how Yuji’s tone became more sullen and morose compared to his voice just moments ago. However, Gojo just nodded in acknowledgement to Yuji’s statement, before turning his attention towards the new first years, who had gone quiet as he diverted his attention to them. He remembered two of the students’ names as Kaede and maybe Hinata, but he couldn’t place a finger on who was who, due to the fact that he hadn’t been around them recently. But similarly to all the first years he had taught before, their youthful faces, untouched by the horrors of the Jujutsu world, stared back up at him admirably, their eyes glimmering with eagerness that even an obedient golden retriever could not match.
“You know what? Principal duties can wait. I’ll watch you guys teach today,” Gojo said casually as he sauntered towards the back of the classroom, with the students’ gazes still following Gojo intently, trying to make eye contact with him through the blindfold. He watched silently as Nobara turned towards the blackboard, etching chubby, dusty letters across the board in her signature handwriting that read ‘Extra Class: Science!!’. Gojo had to admit, he was surprised when all of his students, Nobara and Yuji alike, had run up to him two years after the battle in Shinjuku, gushing about how much they desired to become teachers, but nevertheless, he was pleased that they would all be able to inspire the next generation of sorcerers together. Gojo snapped out of his train of thought when he was interrupted by Yuji’s booming –yet enthusiastic– voice, accompanied by Nobara throwing a piece of chalk directly at Gojo’s forehead with scary precision. The only reason why there was no chalk dust covering his blindfold was because of his infinity, which he had usually kept up.
“Hey, students! Today we’re learning about” –Yuji held up jazz hands against the board– “quantum gravity!” Gojo chuckled at the students’ horrified faces, their mouths held agape as Nobara dusted the chalk off her hands for cinematic effect, smirking to herself.
Gojo reminisced on the day when he had first introduced the subject to the three first year students in 2018, clapping his hands loudly like a madman and chanting the words ‘quantum gravity’ in a horrible, out of pitch sing-song voice. He remembered when Yuji’s entire face had gone purple, and he had started panicking, shrieking that he quote-unquote ‘didn’t even know what quantum meant’. Nobara, who had been inspecting her nails, looked up in horror at Gojo’s face, before berating him with no exact explanation. Megumi, on the other hand, only sighed quietly and pulled out a notebook from the compartment under the desk, having already read and studied through the classroom content a week prior. Gojo had always admired how organised Megumi was, but was also baffled at how studying was considered a hobby to Megumi, yet that was also how Megumi was; intelligent, observant, and freakishly academically gifted. Gojo could feel tears threatening to spill out of his eyes as he recalled the memory. He remembered the meticulously-written, descriptive reports that Megumi always returned to him after missions, and the test papers that Gojo always marked with vigour, joyfully circling all of Megumi’s answers in inky red pen to indicate that they had all been solved correctly, before scribbling a hanamaru symbol (💮) at the front with a large ‘100%’, that was underlined twice for good measure.
“–don’t worry, Isamu, I barely know what it means either, but it’s in the syllabus, and you all agreed to take it at the beginning of the year, so we’re taking it now!” Gojo was returned to the present by Yuji’s incessant chatter. “After all, it’s our job to teach you guys, and to help all of you understand the world better, right, Gojo-sensei?” the younger man asked. The students turned towards him, eager to hear their principal’s answer.
“Of course! But you know, I taught those two goobers when they were your age, and they barely understood the content, so, it’ll be like they’re learning alongside you just like they said!” Gojo exclaimed, smirking at Nobara who had turned red in the face, and the student who Yuji had been talking to –Isamu– chortled loudly, causing the other students to laugh along. Nobara grumbled noisily, almost cracking the piece of chalk in her hand.
“That’s because you only worded it so that Fushiguro would understand it! You really expect us to understand such a convoluted subject like quantum gravity?! Jeez, who’s the goober now?” Nobara ranted, slamming the blackboard so hard that white dust shook off of it. Gojo suddenly felt his stomach lurch, bile nudging at his throat at the mention of the boy’s name. The three of them, as well as the other former students of Jujutsu Tech, didn’t speak of Megumi to the students, and chose to keep him as non-existent around him. Only occasionally would the name slip out during lessons, or when Maki would compare the students’ progress to their own during training, or when Hakari would talk idly about the bores and nuisances of marking schoolwork to the other teachers. No one ever stated it directly, but it made the prospect of Megumi being practically dead less real. It made it hurt less. And it made it so that no one knew what the pain was like when Megumi had first fallen silent. Gojo knew it better than anyone else. It was heart shattering and agonising, the type of pain that would rip your body apart limb by limb, but would keep you alive just to torture you more.
Unfortunately, at the mention of an unfamiliar name, the five students, who had been cackling just moments prior, went quiet, giving the teachers questioning glances. Yuji had frozen, eyes wide at Nobara, who had slowly dropped her hand to her side, gaze directed towards the floor.
“Is Fushiguro another Jujutsu Sorcerer? Do they teach here?” a girl asked meekly, peering over at the teachers with innocent eyes. Yuji coughed into his palm and turned towards the blackboard, hands visibly shaking.
“No one, Kaede. Don’t worry about it,” Yuji whispered. He grabbed the blackboard eraser sitting on the edge of the blackboard and swiped large, long strokes along the board. “Y’know what? We’ll start with the lesson tomorrow, I’m sure you guys are tired from training and classes.”
“B-but, are you guys okay? You all went quiet,” another girl piped up. Nobara looked up from the floor, crossing her arms and sighing.
“It’s nothing. Now, off to your dorms,” she muttered, her eyes dark. All three of the teachers stared at their respective places as the students ushered themselves out of the classroom, muttering to each other– with Nobara staring at the backwall, Yuji staring at the blackboard and Gojo looking at the floor. He hid his mouth in the collar of his jacket as his lips trembled, salty tears pricking at his eyes. Every mention of Megumi’s name outside of the hospital made him want to hurl, and he could tell that the two former students were also uncomfortable, with the way their fingers shook, and how they tried to hide their faces from him. Gojo exhaled slowly through his nose before walking up to the students and placing both of his palms tentatively upon their shoulders, trying to be as supportive as he could be in his emotional state. He almost choked on his own saliva when he opened his mouth to speak;
“You guys should take a break too. Take your mind off of things.”
****
22th April 2023, 6:21PM
“Hello?”
“Good evening, is this Satoru Gojo?”
“Yes, it’s me. Did something happen?”
“Your child, Megumi Fushiguro–”
“What. What happened?”
“We’re calling to let you know that he has woken up.”
****
6:29PM
Gojo had been at the school, slumped over on the couch in the first years’ common room when he had gotten the phone call. He hadn’t even told anyone else before he warped to the hospital in the blink of an eye, racing through the hospital doors and barely making communication with the young woman at the front desk before sprinting across the hallways and tapping his foot nervously in the elevator. Every minute, every second felt like an eternity too long, time that was being wasted, time that could be spent on seeing his sweet little boy, alive and conscious.
When he had finally reached the hospital room, the same room that he had entered thousands of times before, but this time, doctors and nurses were gathered around Megumi’s bed, talking and discussing things with each other, as well as asking Megumi questions. Gojo overheard medical jargon such as ‘Glasgow Coma Scale’, and ‘severe brain damage’ as he controlled his breathing. Even though strenuous tasks had become a normal over his lifetime, Gojo still panted quietly from running across the entire hospital, leaving him to wonder if he was inevitably getting older, or he was just panicking. Gojo gripped the doorframe, knuckles turning white as scared to come closer, before a doctor noticed him and sauntered towards the young man. Gojo recognised him as the doctor who was responsible for administering most of the care to Megumi during the three years he had been registered as a patient.
“Mr. Gojo. How nice it is to see you this evening. We’re still conducting tests, and unfortunately, he seems to be in serious pain, and seems to be verbally unresponsive for the time being. However, his vitals seem relatively stable for the time being, so we can give you the go ahead to see him.” Gojo, barely listening to what the doctor had said to him, merely nodded in acknowledgement, before shoving himself into the room and pushing past the nurses who had slowly begun to disperse. In seconds, Gojo ripped off his blindfold, shoving it into the depths of his collar, before he flung himself towards the bed, eyes blown out like a madman’s as he gripped the railings.
And there he was; Megumi, whose eyes had been closed for half a decade, was now staring up at Gojo’s face, back against the raised bed. Gojo watched silently, gulping down tears as Megumi looked at him with confusion, before it morphed in recognition. He blinked a few times, wispy eyelashes glistening in the fluorescent lights, and Gojo had only then noticed that the caretakers had left the room. Gojo opened his mouth, words about to spill out of his throat, and–
No words formed in the air. There was silence between the two of them. Conversations and apologies that Gojo had conjured in his head for years had disappeared the moment he laid his eyes upon his little boy, and all Gojo could do was stare helplessly at him. Megumi's eyes were half lidded and glazed over, but he still held an innocent expression that to this day, made him look like a young, fifteen year old teenager.
“Megumi–Megs,” Gojo sputtered, still in shock. His boy's hand– that was still covered with wires and tubes– reached towards Gojo's own, his slim, svelte fingers dancing weakly over the back of Gojo's palm. When his fingertips finally brushed against his knuckles, Megumi's hand travelled to wrap around Gojo's thumb with a feeble grip. He whimpered softly, a strangled cry escaping his throat. Gojo felt his walls collapse as he observed the boy in his vulnerable state.
“Megumi, where does it hurt? I'll go get the doctor,” Gojo said frantically breaking out of Megumi’s grip as he turned around to alert the nurses who were discussing things outside. He was about to start walking, when he suddenly felt a feather-light tug at the hem of his shirt. Gojo turned back around slowly, his face morphing into terror at Megumi’s face. He had pushed himself up from the bed, and his face was flushed with red, glistening tears now flowing down his cheeks like waterfalls, his fingers pinching around Gojo’s shirt, trying to gain a stronger grip. Soft hiccups left Megumi’s mouth as he attempted to contain his sobs and he stared up at Gojo with his big, baby blues, as if to say ‘please don’t leave me.’ In Gojo’s thirty four years of life (fifteen of those being with Megumi), Gojo had seldom seen Megumi shed tears, if not, at all. When Tsumiki had first fallen victim to the curse at Yasohachi Bridge, Gojo had watched the boy enter and exit her hospital room multiple times a day, but the most emotion he ever saw from Megumi were his bloodshot eyes and the occasional sniffles that slipped out when Gojo would stand next to him, unsure on whether or not attempting to comfort him would make the situation worse or better. Gojo was almost certain that Megumi would cry when Gojo was out of earshot, yet he had never seen it for himself. It was not until Megumi had also fallen into a coma that Gojo had realised Megumi’s constant face of stoicism, that almost never faltered around him.
Gojo stared down at Megumi, and could barely process his own thoughts before the dam had broken, and he pulled Megumi into a gentle embrace, careful not to disrupt any of the medical equipment that was connected around the boy’s body. He wrapped his unnecessarily long arms around the boy’s back, rubbing his thumb along the pronounced ridges of his spine while comforting him quietly.
When the hug finally disconnected after what had felt like mere seconds to Gojo, he cupped Megumi’s face, fingers curled around his red, tear soaked cheeks that were as warm as the sun. He proceeded to push strands of hair out of Megumi’s forehead and wiped the tears from his lower eyelashes, padding his thumb over them. Megumi’s body shivered under his hold, occasionally shuddering as he attempted to calm himself down. Gojo pulled the blanket over Megumi’s shoulders, still stroking the front strands of Megumi’s hair.
“I missed you so, so much, did you know that?” he asked quietly, smiling widely at the boy. “I thought about you every day.”
Five years ago, Megumi’s body had gone cold, with Sukuna having sucked the warmth out of it years ago. Now, five years later, Gojo vowed silently to himself, inches away from Megumi, that the bone freezing chill that had plagued the boy’s body would instead be replaced with warmth and sunlight, one that would be felt on his skin, and one that would cause Megumi to giggle when it tickled his cheeks.
And now, after all this time, Gojo would happily provide all that warmth to his little boy from now on.
****
22th of April 2023, 8:02PM
Gojo stayed by Megumi’s bedside until visiting hours were over at the hospital, talking softly to Megumi about the fluctuation of students, stories about Yuji and Nobara, and whatever else he felt like chatting about.
It was about an hour into the conversation when Gojo had realised that Megumi had fallen asleep, listening to the sounds of Gojo's incessant chitchat.
At first, Gojo had freaked out, wondering if Megumi had mysteriously fallen back into a coma, and he ran out of the room like a maniac, shrieking about needing a doctor. He felt a feeling of relief bubble in his stomach when the doctor had done a check up on Megumi, and had told Gojo that he had simply fallen asleep.
“I would also like to mention, Mr. Gojo, that the cause of the coma was severe brain damage, and we're still conducting research on the after effects,” the doctor had mentioned on the way out of the room, hanging his pair of glasses in a pocket on his coat. “If all goes well, though, it is possible that he could be discharged in a matter of weeks.” The prospect of Megumi coming home caused Gojo to smile giddily for the rest of his visit, and he jumped around the room just as a child would when they were going to Disneyland. He then sat by Megumi's bedside, holding his hands and discussing future plans and activities that they would do together once Megumi was discharged.
Once visiting hours were over, and people were starting to get ushered out of the hospital, Gojo finally stood up, stretching with a loud yawn, before patting Megumi's stomach lightly as if he were trying to get the boy to burp. He then pressed a gentle kiss to the boy's hairline, stroking his head lovingly as he stood up.
“Good night, kid, sweet dreams.”