Work Text:
I didn't cry when you left at first
"…Megumi must miss Gojo."
Megumi halts mid-step. Yuuji's voice drifts from the next room, filled with worry, and it lands in Megumi's chest like a blow.
He had only been passing by, trying to distract himself from the chaos still tearing Shibuya apart. But distraction is impossible. Even here, in the safety of a hidden building, where Yuuta has joined them and everyone whispers strategies against Sukuna—Gojo’s absence lingers.
Megumi does miss him, just slightly. But not much. Because he knows that Gojo would come back. He must. He is Gojo Satoru, he must return to them safely. There's no other answer.
"He doesn't say it out loud but I know he is worried and misses him." Yuuji's voice carries again.
Megumi’s fists clench. His jaw locks so tight it aches, but he shoves the pain down—both the sharp throb in his muscles and the deeper ache in his chest. Without another second wasted, he walks away.
Because he knows Gojo Satoru will come back. For everyone, for himself. For Megumi too. He has to.
࣪ ִֶָ☾.
Yuuji, Nobara, and Megumi lay sprawled across the rooftop, the night sky stretched wide above them. The air is cool, and for once, there is no training to get through, no curses to exorcise. Just stars. It had been Yuuji’s idea, his declaration that they needed some “bonding time," and somehow, it had worked.
“It’s so beautiful,” Yuuji murmures, his voice soft with awe as his gaze stays fixed on the glittering sky.
On either side of him, Megumi and Nobara hum in quiet agreement. The silence that follows is easy, comforting.
“Hey, Megumi,” Yuuji begins again, hesitating a little. Megumi turns his head, waiting. “Do you… ever feel resentment toward sensei? You know, for killing your father?”
Nobara hisses and pinches his side sharply. “Idiot.”
“Ow—” Yuuji rubs at the sore spot, pouting, but Megumi’s soft huff of laughter cuts through the moment.
He doesn't answer right away, and they don't push him to. The silence lingers, broken only by the hum of the city below. At last, Megumi speaks, voice low but steady.
“No. I don’t resent him. There must’ve been a reason for what he did. And… my father left when I was so young that I barely remember him.”
Yuuji glances at him and finds a surprising calmness in his expression, almost peaceful.
Megumi shifts, propping himself up on his elbows. “Besides,” he says quietly, tilting his head at them, “who knows where I’d be if sensei hadn’t taken me in. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else, anyway.”
There is a beat of silence before Nobara, without missing a step, answers for both of them. “We wouldn’t want to be anywhere else either.”
Yuuji nods firmly beside her.
Megumi’s lips curves into a small, grateful smile before he lays back down, staring at the endless sprawl of stars.
“I think I can handle it, sensei,” he thinks, closing his eyes for just a moment. “I really hope so."
࣪ ִֶָ☾.
"I'm back~" Yuuji sing-songs as he steps into the threshold of the dorms' living room. His smile is as bright as his pink hair while he clumsily tries to hide the khaki bag behind himself.
The fellow sorcerers turn their attention away from each other to Yuuji, their previous conversation halting. "What's that behind you?" Nobara questions immediately. Yuuji's smile drops and he pouts. "Is it that obvious?" he mumbles, but everyone hears him clearly. Maki chortles, "As clear as day. You’re kinda bad at hiding things, Itadori." Yuuji grumbles.
The remaining sorcerers—Nobara, Megumi, Yuta, Inumaki—just chuckle. Maki grins in satisfaction as her hand continues to thread through Yuta's hair, who's sitting beside her with a contented smile on his face.
Yuuji clears his throat and announces, "Ok, whatever. You guys have to act surprised, ok? Because I brought an amazing thing." They all nod because what else can you do, when Yuuji looks like the embodiment of excitement, eyeing them expectantly, other than comply with his wishes. The fact that some part of his innocence still remains makes them want to protect him dearly.
With a proud smile on his face, certain they’ll like his gift, he brings his hands forward. "Tada! Kikufuku!" he states enthusiastically. And everyone reacts, way more dramatically. There’s surprised shouting, and Nobara falls to her knees, gasping loudly. Inumaki does a cartwheel. Yuuji levels them with a done stare. Of course they would do that.
Megumi chuckles at their antics. He sees Nobara sticking her tongue out at Yuuji and winking at him.
"Of course you would bring sweets, Itadori. You and your sweet tooth," Nobara teases when everyone relaxes. Megumi is sure he detects some fondness in her tone, but he agrees with her. Others do too.
"In this bitter life, you need sweetness every other day," Yuuji huffs and continues, "Also, it's from the best!"
Maki guesses, "Kukisuzuan."
Yuuji nods excitedly, "You know it!"
Maki gives him a proud smile. He doesn’t know the name is written clearly on the front, which they all can see. Still, they don’t dare spoil it.
One by one, Yuuji distributes the mochis to everyone and then plops himself into the vacant space beside Megumi, whose other side is occupied by Nobara on the large couch.
Megumi stares at the sweet snack in his fingers. It’s sudden, but he’s hit with the memory of Gojo bringing the same sweet from the same stall during their first fight with Sukuna (though Megumi doesn’t remember if he ate it or not). Gojo always did that—bringing sweets as souvenirs, the timing being off mostly. Always knowing Megumi didn’t like them. But now he won’t. There will be no Gojo and his annoying self bringing him sweets just to tease him.
His head hurts. His throat feels tight. There’s an ache behind his ribcage.
His absence is so glaringly obvious right now that Megumi feels choked up. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knows he’s struggling to breathe, but he’s so deep in the pool of grief that he can’t do anything. He feels sad that Gojo isn’t here. He feels angry that Gojo isn’t here. It’s odd. So odd that he’s missing him on a random Tuesday, when just a moment ago everything was normal and he was laughing, enjoying the moment with his friends. And suddenly he feels guilty for enjoying it without him. And his sister. Oh, his sister—
“gumi—Megumi, breathe with me. Breathe.” Yuuji’s voice enters his consciousness and his body shakes, mouth gasping.
“In,” Yuuji breathes; Megumi follows, albeit with slight difficulty.
“Out,” Yuuji says. Megumi follows, and it’s easier now.
“In.” Take in air.
“Out.” Let it out.
It continues until Megumi opens his eyes. He hadn’t even realized when he closed them—his body suddenly registering the fatigue, every movement feeling unbearably heavy. He blinks a few times, trying to clear the blurriness from his vision.
Slowly, the world comes back into focus. The first thing he notices is Yuuji, still exhaling steadily beside him. Then, the weight of an arm around his shoulder. And finally, the warmth of another hand clasping his own. Megumi lowers his gaze to find it’s Nobara’s.
“You’re ok,” Nobara whispers repeatedly, her voice low and steady.
“Can you tell me your name?” Yuuji asks gently.
It takes Megumi a few seconds before he answers.
“Would you like some water?” He nods faintly. His throat does feel dry. Soon after, there’s a glass of water in front of him, and with shaky hands (along with Yuuji’s steady one), he gulps it down like a thirsty man
After he’s done drinking and the empty glass is set away, he feels Nobara slipping her hand free, then carefully dabbing a cloth on his temple. Suddenly he’s aware of his sweating and feels embarrassed that he couldn’t even do that himself. His embarrassment deepens when he looks up and sees the others standing around him—not too close, so as not to overwhelm him.
"It’s ok,” Yuta says softly, as if knowing what he’s feeling. While Megumi appreciates it, it does nothing to soothe his embarrassment. Still, he tries to push it back.
“I want to go to my room,” he murmurs, and stands up, leaving the space immediately, not waiting for anyone else’s response.
࣪ ִֶָ☾.
Shoko walks blearily to her office, the sound of her heels clicking resonating through the corridor. Another night spent without sleeping for more than 2 hours. Sleep rarely visits her and Shoko is growing tired. Even though months have passed since everything settled yet her life feels extremely dull. This life has taken all the colours away from her. Her best friends, her colleagues, the people she cared about—away from her, dead. But Shoko still persists because someone has to be there for the students and so she will be.
She stands still in front of her office door, hands in her coat's pocket, closing eyes for a minute and heaving a sigh. Gathering enough strength to get her by the day, she pushes open the door.
The sight in front of her nearly gives her a whiplash. Megumi is sitting on a chair, legs loosened, back pressed and head down. Just like Satoru. The only difference is of the hair color. She clutches the door handle, lets go of it when Megumi stands up. "Shoko senpai," he greets her. She waves her hand, gesturing for him to sit (which he does) and walks towards him stopping at a distance. "Megumi," She says, peering down at him slightly. "What are you doing here?"
Megumi nods to her table, motioning to the file laying there. "I was sent to give this to you," he supplies. Shoko hums and goes to stand behind the table, taking the file in her hands and going through it.
Silence takes over, like most days. It goes on like this—Megumi sitting there, zoning out and Shoko just ruffling through the file, humming once in a while—until she breaks it with a snort. Megumi looks at her questioningly.
"Satoru is so crazy for this." She laughs a little, shaking her head. Megumi momentarily freezes at the mention, Shoko notices but says nothing. "What happened?" He looks at her, tilting his head slightly. "Nothing worth to worry about," she closes the file and throws it on the table. Megumi stares at her, thinking to himself 'they were truly friends.'
"Are you going to visit Gojo clan with others?" Shoko asks, crossing her arms. Megumi shakes his head and says, "Will you be going?"
Shoko shrugs. "If you go then I go," she replies simply. Megumi stares at her, wondering what the statement entailed and so he questions her about it. Shoko takes out her cigarette from the first drawer of her table and plays with it, spinning it between her fingers. She almost flicks her lighter open, almost gives in to the habit, but at the last second she stops. Her hand lingers in the air, then she sets the cigarette down with a sigh.
"After Satoru, you are under my care," she utters softly, a determined look on her face. "You'd never be alone, Satoru made sure of that." A rare smile blossoms on her face.
Shoko had never thought of herself as the nurturing type, heck Satoru wasn't the nurturing type either but fate had a way of turning people into someone they never thought they could turn into. Even though Shoko still can't call herself someone close to Megumi but now as he is under her care, she'd make sure to provide him as much support as she can (with the slightly screwed mental health. Well no one in the Jujutsu society is mentally ok.)
Hearing the words, Megumi looks down at his joined hands and hums. Shoko detects some bitterness in it but stays silent. It's understandable. The wound is still open, it will take a lot of time to heal. Or maybe, it will never heal. The emptiness is never filled, Shoko knows that very well. She shouldn't have but she does and one can imagine how hollow and empty she feels right now. And how she would continue to feel that till the end.
Shoko shakes her head to get out of her thoughts. 'Focus on the kids.' she tells herself.
"You can talk to me about Satoru you know that, right Megumi?" Shoko has now taken a few steps near to Megumi, not too close and not too far away. Megumi clenches his fist and says nothing, his head still down. Shoko continues, "You can tell me what you feel. Sadness, grief, bitterness, emptiness, or even if you blame yourself, which you shouldn't, but you can tell me about it." She pauses, gulping before speaking the next words. Shoko doesn't see but Megumi's throat feels tight as he hears her talking. The emotions he has been suppressing are trying to resurface again but Megumi doesn't want that. He can't— "You not talking about him or ignoring his room won't make him reappear, Megumi." Her voice is soft, almost gentle like speaking to a baby.
"Bottling up your emotions doesn't mean that Satoru isn't...." Her voice wavers for the first time and Megumi's eyes sting but he holds it in. Shoko takes a deep breath and tries again. "that Satoru isn't dead." She exhales and stills. Letting the weight of the words settle. They both stay silent. Both trying to control themselves before it all spills. Suddenly Megumi stands up, locking gaze with Shoko for seconds and then turning his head. "I'll be going now Shoko senpai." His voice barely a whisper. His slightly red eyes and trembling body doesn't go unnoticed by Shoko but before she can even say a word, he walks away from there, shutting the door softly behind himself.
Shoko sighs tiredly, taking out her lighter from her coat pocket and this time lighting the cigarette. She takes a drag. "He's avoiding it," Shoko concludes. "Just like him." She puffs out smoke and snickers in grief. "Truly your son Satoru. Truly..."
࣪ ִֶָ☾.
"…Megumi must miss Gojo."
Megumi stills as soon as the words settle in. Deja vu hits him hard. This time, once again, Yuuji is saying those words. And this time, he finds nothing in his heart and mind denying that. Because yes, he does miss him. Achingly so.
And again, he rushes out of there, this time before he overhears another word coming out of Yuuji's mouth. His breath catches as he realises where his feet have taken him, as if pulled there by instinct. He hasn't stepped near this door in a long time. Gojo's room. Except Gojo isn't there anymore. Hasn't been for some time now. Can't be.
Megumi shuts his eyes, holding the sting back, but the ache presses harder. His throat feels too tight to swallow, yet he forces down the lump and musters just enough courage to open the door.
As soon as he shuts the door behind him and takes in the sight of the room, it all comes crashing down. He slides down against the door in devastation, pulling his knees close, arms wrapped tight around himself. The air still carries Gojo’s scent, faint but unmistakable, and that’s what finally breaks him. His tears spill freely now. That scent shouldn’t still linger, and yet it does—and it hurts. It hurts so fucking badly. Why does it hurt? He presses a fist against his chest, punching at the pain, and it does nothing but make him cry more.
"Why are you crying?" He whispers to himself, voice raw and trembling. "Why did you have to go?" The words tumble out in fragments, hoarse and broken. His tears slide down his face, falling on his knees. "Why did you have to leave me? Why sensei?" He mutters hopelessly like a child. His breath shudders, shallow and uneven.
"I miss you… I miss you so much that it hurts." He covers his mouth, but the sobs slip out muffled. "Please…please come back to us. To me," he begs—his heartbeat pounds erratically, his thoughts a mess, his feelings broken and a permanent hole in his life. There's emptiness in his heart and life that he knows will never be filled no matter what.
The ache in his chest tightens and he struggles to breathe. He gasps sharply a few times to calm himself but it only makes his body tremble. He cups his mouth with his hands and counts in his head as he tries to steady himself. Slowly—painfully—his heartbeat slows and his breaths even out. Drained, he rests his head back against the door, his legs loosening, but his feelings remain a wreck.
Silence settles over the room. This is the first time he has allowed himself to cry after Gojo's… He feels emptied out, his body heavy and worn.
Letting out a shaky breath, he glances around. The room is sparse, barely lived in—Gojo was always away, always on missions, always saving everyone. But he wasn't able to save himself, Megumi's mind whispers. The thought stings like glass in his chest. He bites down on his lip hard, rubs at his eyes until they burn. Physical pain is easier to handle than the one hollowing him from the inside, but nothing can take that away. Unless Gojo came back. Which he won’t.
A frustrated groan rips from him. He knocks his head back against the door, staring at the ceiling.
"You know... after Tsumiki…" he starts—speaking as if Gojo were there, listening to him. Though Megumi hopes he is, listening and watching over him. Because he needs that. "You were the only one I could call my family." Regret burns hot in his veins—he never said it aloud. Always acted indifferent. Always too late.
"I'm sorry I never told you. You deserved to hear that." His throat tightens. "I had a father but I never knew him." He closes his eyes as he whispers the next words, "But I had a dad. You…you were- are my dad. Thank you for everything dad." The words cut him open even as they bring relief. The most heartbreaking thing is knowing that he will never have a dad again. Gojo will never know that Megumi called him that, even if only in his heart. But maybe… maybe he had a clue.
The ache flares again, filling his chest, his limbs, his whole body. All Megumi can do is sit here and let it consume him. Later, he’ll get up. He’ll carry on. He’ll keep trying to make the world better with his friends.
But not now.
For now, he isn’t a sorcerer, or a student.
For now, he is just a son, sitting in his dad’s empty room, mourning the dad who died a hero.
But now that you are dead it hurts