Chapter Text
Becoming a sorcerer was always sealed in Fushiguro Megumi’s fate from the day he was born. It had been sealed when his father from one of the three main clans decided to love his mother. It was set in stone when said father decided to sell him to the clan he had grown up in. It was secured when a man with white hair stopped the sale under the agreement that Megumi would one day become a sorcerer for Jujutsu High, and in return receive financial support for him and his sister.
He had never wanted to be a sorcerer, but he had no choice in that matter. His future as a sorcerer was put on paper, written in the stars, something that was meant to happen in every universe. He had to be a sorcerer in order to keep his sister safe.
Tsumiki deserved to be safe - to be secure and have no worries. Megumi will shoulder the worry and the duties, his sister can focus on her normal, non-sorcerer life and he can hear all about it over a dinner, after a day of sorcerer duties.
But the universe decided to curse him once again. His sister - Tsumiki - was cursed, forced into a coma with no telling when she would wake up - or if she would wake up. And Megumi was the one to blame. The last time they had talked had been a stupid argument about him beating up the troublemakers at school - and he didn’t even get to apologise. His sister thought he hated her, when Megumi’s entire life had been paved just so she would be safe.
Except there had been no point to that. No point whatsoever, because now she is cursed and she might never wake up.
Suddenly, becoming a sorcerer meant more. It meant finding a way to break the curse and save his sister. It was making up for the argument and for being a horrible brother. Even if he never wanted to be a sorcerer, he has no choice but to be one if he wants to find a way to wake Tsumiki up.
He’ll become strong enough to save her. If he can’t, then there would be no point to anything at all.
- - -
The rest of the world sounded faint to Megumi. It feels as though all his senses have decided to focus on this one room, hushing anything that came from outside. It was an out of body experience, to say the least. Only hearing the soft hum of machines working and the consistent beeping of a heart monitor - his only comfort in the entire world at this moment.
Nothing else in the world mattered but Tsumiki. An earthquake could knock everything off balance, a volcano could erupt, and Tsumiki would still be the most important thing at that moment. She always has been. She always will be.
Of course, though, something had to disrupt this rhythm. This environment that isn’t completely comfortable, but eases the discomfort just slightly. A louder hum enters the room, something that somehow seems louder than the hospital’s machines, but is actually silent. Megumi doesn’t acknowledge it - he’s come to know that hum of energy like the back of his hand, finding it in the most crowded places. He remains seated in the chair beside Tsumiki’s hospital bed, allowing the quiet world to continue on.
For a while, it seems like he might be allowed to continue to be content with what the universe has chosen to give him. This is the worst thing to ever happen to Megumi - seeing his sister lay in a bed that is not her own, unconscious with no tell as to when she will wake up - and he hopes the world will just continue to let him wallow.
Except Megumi has never been treated kindly by the universe. His entire life has been a hurdle after hurdle, preparing to jump over it. He cannot simply let the next hurdle hit him and topple over.
“The nurses say you haven’t left the hospital in three days,” Gojo Satoru (his benefactor) says as he stands at the foot of Tsumiki’s bed, with the same faux smile and chipper voice he always presents to the world. Megumi huffs in response - he’s not feeling particularly up to whatever his benefactor has planned for him, he’d rather stay by Tsumiki’s side in peace. “When was the last time you showered?”
“What are you doing here?” Megumi counters, finally lifting his head to look at the man. Even with the bandages wrapped around his eyes (which, weird , he never wears bandages when it’s just them) Megumi can feel all six of them on him, analysing him like they analyse the entire world.
“I’m here to check up on my dear ward,” Gojo replies with a nonchalant shrug. The dark-haired boy narrows his eyes. “What? Is there something on my face?”
“What do you want? You haven’t been here since Tsumiki got hospitalised, so what are you doing here now ?”
“Am I not allowed to pop in and see how you’re doing?”
“No.”
“Aw, you hurt this man’s poor, old soul, Megumi-chan.” Gojo chuckles, clutching the fabric above where his heart is.
Megumi doesn’t like it when he uses that honorific and he knows it. But that’s who Gojo has always been; a man who pushes buttons and laughs when that person is finally done with his bullshit . Megumi learnt a long time ago that getting annoyed by his antics only caused him to be more annoying, so became skilled in keeping a neutral face and suppressed emotions.
“I admit I should have popped in sooner.”
Megumi blinks at him in surprise - Gojo admitting something? Unheard of. Now he’s even more suspicious of what he wants from him. It can be nothing good if he’s admitting his mistakes (not really a mistake, because Gojo didn’t have to be here in the first place, and Megumi didn’t ask him to be here in the first place).
“But I am the strongest-” here we go “-and as the strongest I have a lot of work. Honestly, you should be grateful I made time to see you at all.”
“I’m so very grateful,” the teen deadpans, turning his head to go back to looking at Tsumiki.
“I thought so,” Gojo hums, clearly not catching onto the sarcasm or deciding to ignore it altogether. Most likely the second.
There’s a silence that follows, one Megumi welcomes and decides not to disrupt. Gojo can get to the punchline when he’s ready, but Megumi isn’t going to break the blessing that he’s been given. He keeps his eyes on Tsumiki’s sleeping form; thinking about how she looks more rested than she ever has, and younger than she actually is.
Maybe that’s the benefit to not having to worry about a stupid little brother.
The silence is broken, “You’ll have to leave at some point.”
I know. “She needs me.” I need her .
“She’s not waking up any time soon. Not if you plan on spending all your time here.”
As if he doesn’t know that already. Tsumiki may be the one that’s actually been cursed, but Megumi has been cursed with the weight of finding a way to break that curse. He’s the only one that cares enough about Tsumiki to try.
Like Gojo said, he’s the strongest , he doesn’t have the time to worry about his ward’s sister. (He’ll always be ‘the strongest’ before he’s Megumi’s benefactor - or, hell, anything more than that. There’s nothing more important in the world.) So it’s up to Megumi - and Megumi only - to save Tsumiki. And he will. He has to.
“Have you just come here to point out the obvious, or is there any other reason?”
Gojo Satoru does not just turn up to ‘check in’. He turns up to receive something. That’s how it has always been, since that day when Megumi was six-years-old and was approached by a funny looking nineteen-year-old. Training to improve his technique and become stronger; to keep the Zen’ins off his back; to drop off the money they need for groceries that week. Valid reasons for turning up - never to check in. Never to be anything more than a benefactor.
“You’ve missed training.”
Training. Training. Training . It’s always training with this idiot. Always getting stronger. ‘ Don’t get left behind ’. Megumi has been getting left behind since he was born - he doesn’t know how getting stronger will stop that from happening.
“I’ve been busy,” the teen points out the obvious, going as far as to lift a hand and gesture to his unconscious sister.
“Mm. I get that.” Gojo replies in a way that sounds like he doesn’t understand at all. That’s proven further by the way he perks up and grins at him a moment later, “Unfortunately, training cannot be put on hold for sorcerers, so chop-chop. Finish this up and we’ll work on your technique.”
I’m not even a sorcerer . He wants to say. Because, technically, he isn’t. Not until he becomes a student at Jujutsu High. But it’s been carved into his fate for him to become a sorcerer, so why not be ready for the day he actually becomes one? Why not be strong enough to kill curses before he’s even officially a sorcerer?
It’s not like there’s anything else he can do.
“Fine. Let's get out of here.”
- - -
“What did he do to you this time?” leiri Shoko questions, cigarette hanging out her mouth when Megumi enters the infirmary after a failure of training session.
A wince escapes him when his arm twitches, “I think I have a sprained wrist.”
Gojo doesn’t go easy on any sorcerer, no matter their age, grade, or amount of cursed energy. Despite everyone in the sorcerer world knowing Gojo Satoru is the strongest, the man likes to prove it a little too much. He likes showing off his techniques, his endless amounts of cursed energy, and basically anything that enlarges his ego.
leiri-san lets out a sigh, rising from her chair and putting the cigarette out in a coffee cup. She nudges her head towards the examining table and Megumi takes the cue to hop on it.
Shoko isn’t like Gojo. She isn’t loud and flamboyant or annoying. She’s pretty laid back, but sometimes, in Megumi’s opinion, a little too laid back. With the ability to use Reversed Cursed Technique on anyone she’s very important for sorcerers. But even with the ability to heal all kinds of wounds, she still stares into the eyes of death every day. So much so she’s become desensitised to it, Megumi figures.
leiri examines his wrist, turning it over and over again, not seeming to care about the small winces Megumi unwillingly made. She hums, “Looks to me like it’s broken. Not strained.”
“Huh?”
“This won’t take too long, but I’d avoid training for a day or two.” leiri suggests, before suddenly - with no warning whatsoever - snapping Megumi’s broken up back into place.
“ Shit !” Megumi yells, doubling over just slightly. He inhales shakily, then forces his breath to come out steady.
“Huh, you handled that better than Satoru. He used to cry like a baby when I’d do it.”
That catches him off guard, only slightly. “Gojo’s broken an arm before?”
The idea of Gojo Satoru - the strongest sorcerer of the modern age - breaking a bone seems practically impossible to him. A man who only lets his Infinity down maybe once a month, and only when he’s in a secure, safe place, had somehow broken his bones before?
“Mm. And a leg.” leiri doesn’t add any more to it, only starts up the RCT process to heal Megumi’s broken bone. It feels weird; like a warm energy that fizzles inside his body. leiri has used her technique on him multiple times now due to training incidents, but it never stops feeling weird.
“For some reason I can’t imagine Gojo ever getting in a situation where he breaks a bone.” He’s too vigilant, too wary, too untrusting, too strong to ever make the mistake of being hurt or hurting himself.
“There’s one thing that hasn’t changed about Satoru - that he’s an idiot.” leiri retorts with a small smirk only meant for Megumi to see. He even finds himself letting his lips twitch. “If he cared about someone enough…he’d let them do the stupidest shit.”
His brows furrow, “Gojo let someone break his bones?”
“Uh-huh. To let me practise on him but also so he could practise his RCT.”
“That makes sense,” in some way . He bites his lower lip, “I think I’ve only ever seen him drop Infinity twice in front of me…he must have been completely different as a teenager.”
Seven years. That’s how long they’ve known each other. How long Gojo has been training him to become one of the next strongest sorcerers. But even with his lesser amounts of cursed energy and the long way he still has to go to tame all his shikigami, Gojo has never been comfortable - safe - enough to drop his Infinity more than a couple of times.
leiri stops using her RCT, the low hum that had run through his veins now disappearing like it had never been there. He tests his arm out, moving it slowly and carefully, and only feeling a dull ache from what was left.
“He was,” leiri mutters, and Megumi had almost forgotten what they were talking about. “Not completely different, he was still an annoying little shit,” there’s some fondness in her words, “but he cared a lot more.”
He knows it’s none of his business. But Megumi has never pried into Gojo’s personal life before - his life before Megumi - and the opportunity has been presented. What’s the harm in asking a few questions?
“What changed?”
leiri smiles softly, as if being overcome by nostalgia. But that warmth left as soon as it came. “We- he grew up. He became the strongest…you can’t care about anything when you’re the strongest. That just makes you weak.”
Megumi had suspected such. Gojo has known leiri since they were teenagers, but they don’t talk as much as you would expect from friends who have known each other for a decade. Ever since he became a teacher, Gojo has had student after student, but has never become attached to them; he just trained them and sent them to be another cog in the machine.
He knows Gojo became a teacher to do the opposite of that, but it's starting to seem like even the strongest can’t save everyone.
“If he’s ever cared about anyone since then though,” leiri-san continues, taking a cigarette from her pocket, pausing to put it in her mouth and light it up. She draws in a breath of the toxins, then breathes out smoke. “It’d probably be you.”
He can’t help it. He scoffs, bordering on a laugh. “Sure.”
“I’m serious,” leiri states, suddenly a little too earnest for Megumi to deal with. She puffs out another cloud of smoke. “Sure, maybe it’s only for your technique or an upper hand on those asshole Zen’ins, but he still cares - to a point.”
It’s conditional . Is what she’s saying. The care - if it can even be called that - that Gojo allegedly has for Megumi, is only out of his own selfish reasoning. To Gojo Satoru, Fushiguro Megumi is the Ten Shadows Technique user, the same way that Gojo Satoru is ‘the strongest’ to the world.
“Right,” leiri huffs, cutting through the tense air. “Just take my advice and stay out of training for a day and you’ll be fine.”
Megumi nods, hopping down from the examining table. “Thanks, leiri-san.”
“See you later, Fushiguro-kun.”
- - -
He’s back at Tsumiki’s bedside by the end of the day.
The sighs the nurses released when he returned were loud and clear for him to hear, but Megumi doesn’t dwell on it. He’s here to see his sister; to be as much of a good brother as he can be while she is not awake to see it.
The hospital is a little cold, so Megumi lays another blanket over Tsumiki - one from their apartment - and tucks it tightly around her to keep the heat in. Then he sets up a bundle of flowers he brought with him and places them in a flower pot filled halfway with water. Tsumiki has always liked flowers.
“You’d probably scold me for not getting the nurses any,” he recognises, organising the flowers so they look presentable. “But I don’t think they like me much, so it’s probably best to stay away.”
She doesn’t reply, as suspected. The curse shines on her forehead.
Megumi sighs as he settles into the chair next to her bed; his hand twitches to hold hers but he decides against it. It’s not like she’s dying . She’ll wake up eventually .
He does some homework for school while he sits by her bedside, which is easily completed due to his academic intelligence. He’s always been better at the thinking and solving aspects of homework/training/life, more so than the physical and emotional aspects anyway.
Just as he’s packing his homework away and reaching for the book he brought with him to keep him company, there’s a light knock on the door. He turns quickly, not expecting anyone, and finds Nanami Kento standing in the doorway with a bag in his hand. The dark-haired boy relaxes when he sees who’s present and gestures for him to enter, knowing he would not unless given permission.
Nanami is good like that. He doesn’t push boundaries like Gojo does.
“I heard from Gojo about Tsumiki,” Nanami informs him, standing closer to him than Gojo had earlier on. “I wanted to make sure you were alright.”
Something about that sentence wasn’t right. “Gojo told you about Tsumiki?”
“This morning.”
It took Gojo three days to visit , he thinks but doesn’t say. “You didn’t have to come.”
Nanami nods, then holds up the bag he was carrying. “I know circumstances like this can lead to people forgetting to do the necessities of day to day life, so I brought some dinner. Have you eaten yet?”
“I ate breakfast.”
“So no.”
Megumi huffs, but doesn’t argue when Nanami takes a seat and they use the lap table at the end of Tsumiki’s hospital bed to eat the delicious food the older man had prepared. It’s a curry, it tastes sweet in his mouth and burns his tongue just a little, and it’s one of the best meals he has ever tasted.
Nanami has always been good at, well, being a normal person. Maybe cooking doesn’t seem like something that is only for non-sorcerers, but when you’re a sorcerer you come to find that you don’t have as much time to do the typical things humans are supposed to do. Like normal school education or clubs. However, Nanami only came back to being a sorcerer with the agreement that he would work the normal 9-5 hours, and hasn’t worked overtime since. So he has the time to do the normal things in life.
Megumi often wonders how he does it. How he somehow keeps a line between his work as a sorcerer and his personal life as a non-sorcerer. Megumi would like to know. Maybe it would make this whole sorcerer ordeal easier. Maybe he can make being a sorcerer less of a curse and more of a job.
“Nanami-san, can I ask you a question?” He questions after he finishes chewing. Nanami nods, acknowledging him and giving the go ahead to continue. “How do you do it - being a sorcerer and a non-sorcerer I mean.”
Nanami finishes his bite of food before he responds, “Well, the most important thing is to keep a healthy work-life balance. If you prioritise being a sorcerer over your personal life, you can be exploited and worked to the bone. If you maintain a shield around yourself, you can stop that from happening.”
“But…how do you find the time? How do you do normal things whilst knowing that someone is dying out there because of a curse?” Megumi does not want to be a sorcerer, and he does not blame Nanami for wanting to be a salaryman over a sorcerer for some time. The Jujutsu world is a selfish world and sometimes you have to be selfish in order to stay alive.
“I can not be everywhere at once, Fushiguro-kun. It’s likely that whilst I am exorcising a curse, another one is killing a civilian somewhere else. That’s how the world works. So if someone is going to be dying anyway, I just have to accept that and do what I can when I decide to.”
“I know that…I more meant how do you do normal things when we’re… not normal?” Megumi asks.
Megumi has never really thought of his life outside of being a sorcerer. Because he will never know a life outside of being a sorcerer. Right now he is a student in a school for non-sorcerers, but in just under two years he’ll be attending Jujutsu High and be an official sorcerer. After that, he’ll be damned to the secluded, dangerous life of a sorcerer - if he makes it to that point. There’s no point in thinking about what will never happen. It will only curse him more.
Nanami looks down at his bowl thoughtfully. “Because I don’t feel not normal. Being a sorcerer has always been natural - even if I don’t necessarily like what it means. The only difference between a sorcerer and a non-sorcerer are our obligations.”
He understands, to an extent. Sometimes he’ll look at Tsumiki and think about how different they are and how completely different their lives will be - but then he’ll see slight similarities between them. Like the way they eat their food, or how they hang up their clothes to dry, or how they both have the same paleness on their skin. They have more differences than similarities, but at the end of the day they do have similarities. (Like how they’re both cursed with the name of a person they have never met.)
“Why do you ask, Fushiguro-kun?”
His green eyes flicker up to meet Nanami’s and he feels like he’s been caught in the middle of stealing money from a bank, despite there being nothing guilty about his thoughts.
He decides to be honest.
“ My obligation is to become a sorcerer,” Megumi mutters, poking his food with his chopsticks. A strong sorcerer . “But…I think I would rather be anything else.” Maybe even dead . “But I know that’s not possible.”
“Why not?” Nanami responds.
“You know why,” the teen points out. He’s known Nanami since he was six, of course he knows why Megumi can’t be anything but a sorcerer. “There’s a contract.”
Nanami hums. “You don’t have to be a sorcerer for the rest of your life, Fushiguro-kun.”
Megumi scoffs. “What choice do I have?”
“Maybe it’s not so much about choices,” the blonde man muses, untying his tie and unbuttoning the top button. Nanami doesn’t usually like being untidy. “But what you decide to do.”
What he decides to do? But there’s no decision to be made. Those decisions were made for him when he was six-years-old and the only thing he ever wanted was for Tsumiki to be happy and safe. Now she is neither.
No matter how much Megumi doesn’t want to be a sorcerer, it is his destiny, in a way. He’s always meant to be one and he will be one, one day.
Megumi clears his throat, “Thank you for visiting, and for the food. It was…nice.”
Nanami gives him a small smile, a rare expression. “I’m glad I could be of some good company, Fushiguro-kun. Would you like me to take you home?”
Without really meaning to, his eyes wander over to Tsumiki. She is still sleeping, perhaps dreaming or maybe there’s nothing. Megumi doesn’t know why that second option sickens him, but he thinks it might be due to the fact that Tsumiki doesn’t deserve anymore trouble in her life. If she is not going to be allowed to live happily, then he would hope she could at least dream contented.
The idea of being away from her makes him feel ever worse, but Gojo’s words echo in his head: She’s not waking up anytime soon .
With a nod, Megumi agrees to the choice given to him. “Yes please.”
- - -
The apartment is not cold and quiet as he expected it to be when he returned back to their apartment. He had waved Nanami off from outside the apartment building, before turning towards it and realising that the lights from their apartment were on. Even though he definitely remembers turning them off before they left. He’d been hesitant to enter, but rationalised that there were only about five people in the world who know where they live and reasoned that it was probably someone he knows.
When Megumi enters, he doesn’t immediately kick his shoes off (Tsumiki would yell at him if she knew), and instead makes his way into the apartment to get a look at it and whoever decided to drop by.
Much to his disdain, his benefactor is laid out across their couch, watching some shitty romcom on the TV while he eats popcorn.
He better not be getting crumbs everywhere .
Megumi huffs, kicking his shoes off and hanging his coat up (next to Tsumiki’s), before making his way back to the living room.
“What are you doing here?” Megumi scowls at the man as he stands in front of him, purposely blocking the TV from his view. He has his bandages off, replaced by sunglasses, but from this angle Megumi can see the vibrant blue in his eyes that signals his Infinity is on.
“You mean in the house that I pay for and keep heated and the reason there’s electricity?”
“You don’t pay for shit, the school does.”
“ Language ,” Gojo chastises, giving him a pointed look. Megumi rolls his eyes. “And get out the way! The main character is about to make the biggest mistake of her life and kiss a boy in front of her love interest!”
“How would you know that if you hadn’t already watched it before?” The teen retorts, but moves away to head for the kitchen. The kitchen is attached to the living room, giving him a view of the movie playing and Gojo watching it.
“And it still makes me want to cry every time!” Gojo sniffs.
The dark-haired boy shakes his head, grabbing a glass from a cupboard and filling it with tap water. He takes a peek inside the fridge whilst he’s there - finding it full to the brim, unlike the wasteland it had been a few hours earlier.
“Did you get groceries?” He calls out to his benefactor, forehead crinkled slightly.
“Of course I did! What kind of benefactor would I be to let my ward starve?”
“We already had the money for groceries.” Or more so, I had enough money for groceries .
Gojo turns in his seat to frown at him. “I believe the correct words are, ‘Thank you, Gojo! You’re so amazing! How could I ever repay you!’ Psh, kids these days.” With that, he turns back in his seat.
Megumi walks back over to the couch, not being kind as he lifts Gojo’s legs - Infinity still on - and shoves them off the couch. “Move. Your ass isn’t that big.”
“I’ll have you know, it is that big.” Gojo quips, but scooches over anyway. With more room on the couch, Megumi sits down, burrowing into the corner and bringing his legs to his chest.
They watch the stupid romcom for a few minutes in relative silence - besides Gojo’s dramatic gasps and cries. It’s weirdly… normal . Just like something he would do with Tsumiki. So maybe Nanami was right in some way. It is possible for sorcerers to do ‘normal’ stuff if only they make the decision to. With Gojo of all people though…
Megumi subtly glances at the white haired idiot, managing to catch onto the small vibrations that appear when he’s using Infinity. He has the sudden urge to reach a hand out and touch the barrier - or see if the barrier disappears when he does so. But he feels like he would just be more disappointed when his hand is breached by the invisible force.
He doesn’t know why Gojo wants to use Infinity when it’s just the two of them, in an apartment that only five other people know about. Is he really that scared? Or are people really that scared of him? Megumi frowns. Is he scared of me?
“If he’s cared about anyone since then though, it would’ve been you .” leiri had told him. He didn’t believe her - he still doesn’t. How can a man with so much power be scared to let down his defence in front of a teenager? How can he sit here, protecting himself, and pretend he’s not showing his true feelings (if there are any) towards Megumi?
“Shoko told me to keep you off training for a day,” Gojo says as a sequence of memories between the main couple plays on the screen. “So we’ll have to train ten times harder when you start again.”
As if Megumi doesn’t train ten times harder compared to all the other students of Jujutsu High - actual students. That’s what happens when you become the strongest’s trump card - his checkmate - his ward. More is expected of you, so there’s more work to be done.
A day off . Sorcerers don’t have days off. Megumi will do something else that is required of sorcerers, just not in the physical sense.
That’s what it takes to be a sorcerer. All your time goes towards the one thing you’ll only ever be:
A
weapon
.