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The worst part is that it’s his own fault. He let them be next door neighbors, and he thought it was funny when it annoyed Megumi. He let them take all their missions together—solo missions are a sin to put onto kids though, so that couldn’t be helped. He didn’t want to coddle and risk crippling them, but he maybe could have gone with them more often.
Actually, the worst part is that he didn’t notice until Itadori died.
On one hand, Itadori died and Satoru spent one on one time training him so he wouldn’t die again, and it was always Fushiguro this and Fushiguro that and did you know that Fushiguro once told me blah blah blah. It was all Satoru could do to keep from just handing him back his phone to call the other teen, but thankfully Itadori also found his own reasons to stay radio silent for a bit. (Didn’t stop him from strapping Nanami with the kid though.)
On the other hand, Itadori died and Megumi carried his body, his heart, in his arms to the edge of the screen. It was all Satoru could do to keep it secret that the kid was actually still alive, and he had to default to avoidance to do so. That is, until Megumi cornered him one time and told him he didn’t blame him for not being there. The guilt that shot through him then... yikes. Telling him the truth would’ve made him feel better, Satoru knows, but letting him grieve would prepare him. Not that Satoru has any intention of letting the kid get killed for being a vessel, but he knows better than anyone about the worth of intentions in uncontrollable circumstances.
He does feel bad about it though, so Satoru organizes Itadori’s surprise return to lighten the mood. (Also to split Megumi’s anger between the two of them.) He additionally drops Infinity to allow Megumi a good hit in, though he whines about it before and after the teen takes him up on his offer.
But that’s when Satoru knew. Itadori Yuuji is halfway obsessed with Megumi, and Megumi is halfway obsessed back. Except Megumi hasn’t realized that yet. Itadori is starting to, but even if Megumi catches up, it’ll take him twice as long to figure out it’s mutual. That gives Satoru time to interrupt.
And, yes, given his own high school obsession and how that turned out, Satoru should be reminding Megumi to live now so he doesn’t regret wasted time. But that isn’t what he does.
The silence of his best friend is felt keenly, as always, and he knows time is not guaranteed, and yes, he told Megumi to do what he wants, to go for the home run, but he hasn’t yet, so clearly he isn’t ready, so Itadori cannot rush him. Megumi isn’t ready for a romantic relationship, so Satoru will keep all prospects away—it’s his job as his father-figure.
“You’re the fun uncle at best,” Shoko tells him when he accidentally tells her that Itadori is in love with his kid and he does not approve. “And even calling you fun is pushing it. Plus, you like Itadori. Don’t try to lie to me.”
Needless to say, Satoru doesn’t exactly come out of that conversation encouraged about his chances.
But! Gojo Satoru has never been a quitter.
At first he thinks he should get him to set his eyes on someone else, but the prospects are thin. The third years are too old and distant. Kugisaki would rather die, so she’s out. Out of the second years, well—Maki is a hard pass, Panda is a panda, and even setting aside whatever is going on with Toge and Yuuta now, Yuuta’s ex is a very powerful curse that follows him around everywhere. Itadori Yuuji already has a powerful curse of his own, so that wouldn’t be a good combination.
At a low, it strikes him that he could try to get the kid to fall for him, but the half formed thought alone is enough to send him to the toilet, bile pouring from his mouth. So that’s a no.
Obviously, says the voice of reason in his head that still sounds like his best friend, and Satoru agrees except he doesn’t like that tone. He would appreciate some softness here, because he’s desperate and he really can’t do it. He can't protect Megumi’s innocence by pretending to be a pedophile. He really is a terrible father.
“Megumi-kun, I’m sorry.”
Instantly on guard, the teen looks at the miserable lump of his teacher lounging on the couch. He puts his water bottle back in the fridge. “What did you do?”
Despondent, Satoru admits, “It’s what I didn't do. I can’t protect you from everything.”
Megumi only squints in confusion. “I know? And I'm not asking you to, either. We've had this conversation before.”
He's right. Satoru sat him down and gave him a whole speech years ago, when he first started seriously training the kid. “But when I said it that time I meant shaman world stuff. Protecting you from regular human stuff is a given.”
“There's nothing in the regular human world that’s going to do me that much damage, weirdo,” Megumi frowns.
Biting into a salty cracker miserably, Satoru cries, “That’s what you think.”
With a hearty sigh, Megumi scowls and leaves the kitchen without a word, empty handed. Satoru watches him go.
Okay. Okay, he can figure this out. So what if he had to google how to parent? It's not like he had parents of his own to draw examples from, and the results were very straightforward: a good parent does anything and everything to protect their child. Satoru can do that. He just has to be a little more creative about it. If he stalks Itadori a bit, he’ll know every time the kid is about to try something with Megumi, and then he can intervene. It's foolproof.
There will be absolutely no confessing of any sort on Satoru’s watch, he guarantees it.
———
Yuuji is going to confess to Fushiguro. Any day now, he’s confident.
He hesitated at first, because of Sukuna and because of his newness to the shaman world and because Fushiguro is just so cool, so untouchable that sometimes it kinda felt hopeless. But he’s almost died so many times—both of them—and nothing is promised. There’s no guarantee he’ll even make it to all twenty fingers, no guarantee Sensei will really be able to keep him alive despite the demands of the higher ups, whoever they are.
His grandfather died nearly completely alone, and Yuuji doesn’t want that for himself. He knows he’ll have his friends (and it’s naive of him, sure, but he wants all of them to outlive him), he knows Fushiguro will be there, too. Yuuji just wants him to be a little closer than the rest, that’s all.
So he’s going to confess, good or bad, and he’s going to do it soon.
Except, there’s just this thing, mostly inconsequential, you know, and maybe he’s blowing things out of proportion, you know, seeing things that aren’t there, thinking he’s connected the dots when there were none to begin with but—it just feels like, kinda, sorta, maybe, there’s a touch of divine intervention preventing him from confessing properly? Or maybe not divine, maybe something closer and nearly if not more powerful.
“You think Gojo-sensei is sabotaging your confession efforts?” Kugisaki scoffs. “I know he’s a lunatic, but seriously, Itadori?”
“I don't know! and I don't want it to be true, but,” he glances furtively around, “but Kugisaki, it’s just weird.”
He started out small. He made some chocolates with ginger and nuts—so Fushiguro would really like them. He cooled them in the fridge and when he came back, the second years and Sensei were using them for some sort of eating competition. Gojo-sensei said they needed new groceries, which was painfully true, but Yaga-sensei told him to clear out the fridge first and Gojo-sensei wanted to make it fun. Yuuji let it go; it made sense.
He tried to go old fashioned, deciding to write a letter and leave it in his room, but he couldn’t. Pens exploded in his hands. Graphite disintegrated inside his pencils.
Yuuji tried to plan a day out that could maybe be construed as a date, if Fushiguro was willing. Or rather, if he went out in the first place. Of course, missions interrupted plans constantly, but Yuuji isn’t mad about those. They have the power to help, and they should, and he still gets to spend time with Fushiguro there. (And Kugisaki, and increasingly Gojo-sensei, too.)
No, it’s the other stuff that gets to Yuuji. The trip to the aquarium that got canceled because of a major crack in the shark tank, the whole place closed for repairs and inspections. Two separate plans to go to the movie theater, one falling through because a millionaire bought it out for the evening to throw her child a birthday party, the second due to a fire in three of the showrooms.
And the beach! Yuuji planned a beach day because he’s never really gone, and even though it was still winter time and they wouldn’t be able to swim, he thought it would be fun. He got the second years involved, got Yaga-sensei’s permission, got Nanamin to drive them all there in a rental. And when they got there and had fun making s’mores at the bonfire, Yuuji found the sparklers he and Fushiguro specifically talked about lighting up all broken in half. But he wasn’t discouraged, no. Yuuji drew a heart in the sand with their initials and prepared an incredibly sappy speech only to have Gojo-sensei dance drunkenly through it while Nanamin and Fushiguro exasperatedly tried to catch the teleporting man—he’d stolen Fushiguro’s headphones and he was setting a bad example for the hysterically laughing teens, otherwise that duo would have left Sensei to drown.
“I’ve been trying to confess properly for weeks now. Either I'm cursed,” he says, slapping a hand over the mouth forming on his cheek before Sukuna can interrupt, “or Gojo-sensei knows and he is working against me.”
Kugisaki stares at him. “You have serious main character syndrome.”
“It's my life,” he frowns, “I can't be a side character.”
“God, no, I mean, there’s a simpler answer. Occam’s razor, you know? Maybe it’s all a coincidence, or maybe your plans just aren’t good.” Yuuji pouts and she uncaringly rolls her eyes. “The world is not out to get you, and neither is Sensei. Why would he even care about your confession?”
Yuuji shrugs. He hadn’t thought about that. “Maybe he’s lonely?”
“So he's jealous of a teenager’s love life?” She scoffs disbelievingly. “He's not a cartoon villain.”
Yuuji throws his hands up. “I don't know, Kugisaki! I came to you for answers! You’re supposed to be helping me here.”
“Listen, I'm smart as hell, yes, but I'm not a goddamn miracle worker. I can't get into that psychopath’s mind.” Sighing, she takes some pity on her friend. “If, and it’s a decently sized if, if he is sabotaging you, he’ll have a reason. He's irritating and fickle, but he isn’t so childish as to ruin your confession efforts for meaningless fun. He's still an adult, after all.”
Yuuji isn’t so sure, but Kugisaki is done with this conversation and that’s the best he’ll get out of her. It doesn’t matter; he’ll get to the bottom of this. He will be confessing to Fushiguro before the month is up, and that’s an Itadori guarantee.
———
It’s a random Tuesday afternoon when Megumi just thinks, Honestly? Fuck it.
“Hey, Itadori. Do you wanna go out with me?”
“No!” Gojo shouts, startling the hell out of Megumi as he comes out of nowhere.
“I knew it!” Itadori shouts, jumping to his feet and pointing. He has a crazed look in his eyes. “You have been sabotaging me!”
Megumi blinks a few times in rapid succession. What? “What?”
They ignore him. “I have not!”
“You totally have! You’re here even now!”
“I'm just watching out for my kid,” Gojo sniffs. “Like any responsible parent.”
Itadori gapes. “Since when is Fushiguro your kid?!”
Megumi tunes out the rest of their conversation, if something so hysteric can be categorized as such. He flashes back to a month ago, that confusing talk Gojo started in the kitchen as he lay pathetically on the couch looking like he was suffering from vertigo. Gojo means well, he tells himself. He swallows his annoyance.
Remembering the past few weeks, his cheeks warm slightly. Itadori kept trying to take him off campus, on store runs that got interrupted by missions, to the park before that freak storm hit, to an art gallery that got raided when the featured artist got caught for money laundering and tax evasion. He’s been bringing him random albums and books and saying, I saw them and thought of you, blushing furiously. One day, he made chocolates, too, and Inumaki-senpai saved one for Megumi to try. They were savory, like he likes; they tasted like ginger.
Sabotage, huh? Does Gojo think Megumi will get his heart broken? Ah. Ieiri-san once told him about a sorcerer named Getou Suguru, and a traveling shaman once remarked snidely to Gojo about a youthful friend turned curse user. Megumi recalls a lesson about grieving for a boy who didn’t really die. The annoyance in his throat makes room for a touch of begrudging understanding.
Still, though. Megumi hooks his fingers in Itadori’s collar, cutting off whatever he’s saying and turning him to make eye contact. “Shut up for a second.”
He feels Itadori swallow and nod, then turns to Gojo. The blindfolded man immediately begins to explain himself. “Megs—“
“I get it,” he interrupts. He isn't happy about it, but he knows where he’s coming from. The man is annoying and childish because he never really had a childhood; he takes on too much and is overprotective despite all attempts to appear otherwise because he wants to save future generations from everything that had hurt his own. Gojo isn’t nearly as much of an enigma once one simple fact is known about his past: it genuinely sucked for all but eighteen months, and then it got worse.
“But you can’t protect me from everything,” he reminds him. “And besides, it’s not like you regret it, do you?”
The energetic veneer fades from him as he gets serious. “It's going to hurt, Megumi.” The teen tilts his head, and Gojo smiles. “But everything does, eventually. You know what you’re doing, kid.”
“I'll figure it out,” he shrugs. Then he glares. “So stay out of it.”
He laughs his most obnoxious laugh, walking away. “Of course, Megumi-chan! Don't forget to use protection!”
“Uh,” Itadori says, eloquent. There’s a blush high in his cheeks. Megumi thinks it’s cute. “What just happened?”
“Gojo approves,” he answers simply.
“He approves,” Itadori repeats. “So—so does your question from earlier still stand?”
“You were the one with all the dramatic plans,” Megumi laughs. “I want the chocolates you made to be delivered directly to me this time.”
Itadori smiles giddily. “And then?”
“And then,” he hums, “maybe.”
“And before,” Itadori says, leaning forward. Books and movies, they told Megumi his heart would be beating too fast. They described the physical sensations of a panic attack but joyously, and he never really understood that. Megumi’s heart is beating steadily, and his cheeks are warm, and his stomach is hosting a rave for a kaleidoscope of butterflies, and now he might be starting to understand. Excitement is singing in his blood. “Can I—“
“A mission! We have a mission,” Gojo interrupts, startling the teens apart. “All three first years and me, your favorite chaperone. So none of that right now. Save it for later, in the daytime, and remain six feet apart at all times. You know,” he rambles, “for Jesus and social distancing regulations.”
Megumi closes his eyes as Itadori turns beet red. “Gojo. Are you serious?”
“Sorry. Force of habit.” He laughs, “But we really do have a mission. It’s actually in Roppongi this time, though, so yay!”
Collecting himself with a heavy sigh, Megumi offers a real smile when Itadori intertwines their fingers. He promises, “We'll ditch them on our way back.”
Even through his blindfold, Gojo looks utterly scandalized. “You will do no such thing, young man!”