How could you think, that you would be any less dear to me?

by shadow_supernova

Summary:

“Megumi,” the voice tried again, soft and caring, but with a hint of anger underneath. Dangerous. Not loving at all. Not like Satoru. And all Megumi wanted to do was cry. “Megumi, that’s not the way to treat your mother.”

And Megumi opened his eyes in pure disbelief.

OR: Megumi wants nothing more than to be Satoru’s pup. It’s a long journey before he realizes he’s always been his.

Notes:

Some clarifications:

• Megumi is a clingy kid, because my heart can´t handle the opposite.
• As a result, Satoru's a clingy parent (and believe me,you are not ready for this one)

I can’t explain how hard it was for me to write from Megumi’s point of view. Because I’m so used to writing from Satoru’s or Yuji’s perspective — both of whom love him so immensely (as father and boyfriend, respectively) — that every time I had to write Megumi thinking, “I’m a burden, none of them love me,” I immediately went: No, darling, they love you so much. Trust me.

Anyways, hope you like it! Thank you so much for reading! :)

With all the reasoning and logic his six-year-old mind could possibly provide (which, according to Gojo, was quite a lot), Megumi knew that, objectively speaking, the older woman at the supermarket hadn’t meant any harm.

It was spring, and Megumi really liked spring. It was the best season of the year, alongside autumn. There wasn’t that extreme cold that had Satoru dressing him and his sister in more layers than their small bodies could handle, nor that suffocating heat that made the boy feel like he couldn’t even stand living in his own skin because of the sweat. He liked it — he liked seeing how the parks and streets, stripped of color during the winter, started to bloom again. He liked how the days grew just a bit longer. And most of all, he adored how the frequency of storms began to lessen little by little, to the point where they only had one or two strong ones a month, if they were unlucky. Megumi liked spring.

But what he certainly didn’t like was how that same season became the excuse for all sorts of school activities.

After starting elementary school, the green-eyed boy had thought such activities were a thing of the past. After all, he was older now. Six months older since he’d finished kindergarten — but still, six months older nonetheless. Plus, he already knew how to read and write, with Gojo even teaching him math operations far more complex than the ones they saw in class, whenever Megumi peeked at his physics notes and asked questions about them. But apparently, none of that mattered to his teacher, because apparently, wasting an entire day of classes to have a “spring picnic” with his classmates was more important than teaching the rest of the class how to write their own names. (Which, by the way, less than a quarter of his classmates could do — to the point where both Gojo and Nanami had shared concerned looks when he told them.)

And Megumi had actually fussed about it, only to be metaphorically slapped in the face when Tsumiki told him she had the exact same activity, on the exact same day. Just like the rest of the entire school.

Megumi hated spring.

But the younger one’s dislike for the season didn’t mean Satoru wasn’t going to take his role as a father figure seriously. The older man was happily filling the shopping cart with everything the lists from both of his kids required — with a grumpy Megumi at his side. They had dropped Tsumiki off at her dance class half an hour ago, and with nearly an hour of free time, Gojo had seen the perfect opportunity to buy everything their teachers had requested. Cheerfully asking Megumi to choose between poster boards and give his opinion on what sweets to bring — as if his enthusiasm could somehow rub off on the small pup beside him.

Megumi frowned and pouted the entire time, until Satoru picked him up and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

Once the older one had finished gathering everything on both his pups’ lists, he wandered through the supermarket looking for a few small things they still needed at home, Megumi perched on his hip the whole while. Infinity surrounding them both. And Megumi was at peace, slowly starting to doze off against the older’s shoulder, curling closer in his arms — if that was even possible. He even let out an instinctive, unconscious happy purr when, after spacing out for a few minutes, Gojo placed a small dinosaur plushie in his arms, dropping a kitten one into the cart, presumably for Tsumiki. The white-haired man couldn’t help but coo at the sight, pressing a soft kiss to his little blessing’s temple, content to see his pup happy and safe.

And two years ago, Megumi probably would’ve thrown a tantrum over such displays of affection — kicking his legs and everything. But right now, he could only hug the older one tighter.

The boy didn’t really know when the change had happened, or how. But he did know that, somewhere along the way, his little brain had run out of reasons why the older’s hugs were supposed to be bad. Or that, at some point, during the nights when Satoru tucked a smiling Tsumiki into bed, he started looking at the older sorcerer longingly, silently asking to be tucked in too. Or that, during storms — especially those with heavy winds — he no longer had to curl up in bed and wait for them to pass, because Satoru, even if the smaller one didn’t ask, would scoop him up and hold him until the sound of the wind faded. And even when the skies were clear again, the blue-eyed man wouldn’t let go until Megumi did — the pup more often than not falling asleep in his arms.

Megumi couldn’t exactly pinpoint when, or how, but what he did know was that, without meaning to, Satoru had become a safe place. His safe place, to be exact.

And it was confusing. Extremely confusing. Because two years ago, the boy had convinced himself he didn’t need any adults in his life — that Tsumiki’s presence alone was more than enough. But then Satoru had arrived, freakishly tall and with the loudest personality Megumi had ever met, and now Megumi no longer considered the space under his bed the safest part of the house. Now, the safest place was anywhere Gojo could hold him and mark him with his scent. Even better if Infinity was active.

But you couldn’t get that information out of the black-haired pup even if his life depended on it.

And that led to another problem. Because even though, after much (well, as much as a five-year-old could manage) analysis, the boy already felt comfortable around the older one, expressing that comfort was uncharted territory. He liked Satoru’s hugs — but saying it out loud was simply unthinkable. Asking for them was downright absurd. Because Megumi wasn’t a baby, and he wasn’t Satoru’s biological child. He wasn’t naturally entitled to that. So no matter how much he wanted to be wrapped up in the older’s arms, he just had to keep his mouth shut. He couldn’t risk Satoru leaving just because he was a clingy kid. Not when both he and Tsumiki were finally living a good life, not when his sister had occasionally called the older man “Dad” instead of by his name. And not when the older one’s name had morphed into something both somewhat similar but at the same time completely different in Megumi’s little brain — in his puppy-like little mindset.

But Megumi couldn’t say it. No matter how much he craved it. No matter how much the word lingered on the tip of his tongue most of the time. Just like today.

Once Gojo had finished his little mental checklist of the things they needed in their home, the two of them headed to the registers, with the older setting Megumi down to start scanning the items. Ruffling the younger’s hair and earning an indignant frown in return. However, Megumi helped, immediately picking the dinosaur plush back up once it had been scanned. With almost everything done, and Satoru already pulling his wallet out to pay, the green-eyed boy was ready to leave the supermarket — maybe even try again to convince the older one not to go to the school picnic.But then, the most terrible thing on earth happened.

Megumi helped Gojo with a bag. That was it.

He didn’t think much of it. He just took it. After all, it wasn’t heavy — it only had Tsumiki’s plush, a few sweets, and some poster boards that hadn’t fit in the other bags. And considering that the white-haired man was about to carry two full ones, the boy had simply seen it as fair. Manners. Basic decency, as Nanami had called it once. But apparently, for his age, that was a lot.

“Aww, what a well-behaved pup,” the older woman behind them in line exclaimed, making both of them jump in place — with the sorcerer almost immediately surrounding them both in Infinity, turning toward the source of the voice with all the restraint and politeness he could muster. “Is he yours?”

Megumi hated that question.

Because the thing is, Satoru always said yes. That both he and Tsumiki were his pups. Even when they didn’t look anything like him, even when people silently judged him for having not one, but two pups at twenty years old. Even when, at first, Megumi would frown and hiss every time he was held, the white-haired man always claimed both kids as his. Always. And normally, that should’ve made Megumi feel better about himself. Normally. But sometimes, his little mind would summon a not-so-little, not-so-innocent question:

What if he ever says no?

“Yes,” the older one answered, at the same time he handed his card to the beta cashier in front of him. And even from his position, and despite his young age, Megumi knew that Gojo was going against every single instinct to not hiss in the woman’s face. “He is.”

Sensing the tension, the cashier quickly processed the payment, returning the card with a little bow and a nervous “Have a nice day.” And just when the older one had tucked the card back into his wallet and grabbed the remaining bags — clearly ready to leave and end the conversation right there — the older woman, an omega, by the way, decided that wasn’t enough.

“Oh, but he doesn’t look anything like you.”

And Satoru actually hissed.

Instinctively, the little pup moved closer to the older’s legs, hiding behind them. But Satoru didn’t hesitate to pick him up again, somehow managing to juggle three bags in one hand while holding Megumi with the other, nuzzling his cheek against the boy’s hair as the smaller one rested his head on his shoulder — clutching at his shirt with the hand that wasn’t holding the plush.

And Megumi hated it — not because of how defenseless and vulnerable Satoru made him look, not because the older one had subtly marked him with his scent. No, he hated it because it made him hate himself. Because, as had been happening lately, the forbidden word rested on the tip of his tongue again. Instinctive, puppy-like, vulnerable in a way that only a child could make it work, but Megumi couldn’t say it. Not yet. Maybe never.

He couldn’t risk it. He couldn’t risk Satoru abandoning them because of more responsibility on his shoulders. He couldn’t risk the older one feeling pity for the little orphan pup he had, quite literally, picked up off the street. He couldn’t risk a scenario where the sorcerer didn’t respond to the call. Because he wouldn’t be able to bear it, no matter how hard he tried. Because Satoru rejecting him wouldn’t just mean that he didn’t see their bond the same way Megumi did — no, it would also mean that, without a doubt, Megumi was a defective pup. Because in that scenario, Megumi wouldn’t just be a pup rejected by an alpha and a beta — he’d also be a pup rejected by a—

“You’re an omega,” the woman finally said after a few seconds, realizing the subtle but unmistakably threatening pheromones the older one was emitting. And the blue-eyed man was one second away from baring his teeth. For her part, the cashier looked one second away from fainting out of stress — or calling security. Or both. “I—I’m sorry, I didn’t know that. I thought you were an alpha.”

And, you know, Megumi wasn’t a genius. He was only six years old, after all. But he knew for sure that being rejected by an omega — beings whose maternal and protective instincts ran deep in their veins, regardless of whether they wanted children or not — was kind of a problem. Even if Gojo wasn’t a conventional omega in the slightest.

Because the thing is—anyone who saw the white-haired man in any possible circumstance of life would never assume he was an omega. At all. Being considerably taller than the average person —including several alphas— and carrying a presence that was far from the submissive, quiet demeanor typical of omegas, the possibility that the man was an omega wouldn’t even cross anyone’s mind, not even if their life depended on it.

And it wasn’t like you could tell by his scent either. Because, as if that wasn’t enough, the strongest sorcerer didn’t have that sweet aroma most omegas tended to possess. Kind of ironic, considering his absolutely disgusting sweet tooth. No, he smelled fresh, with a subtle citrus note that could easily be mistaken for an alpha’s scent. Nothing —absolutely nothing— about Satoru could make you believe he was anything but an alpha.

But he was an omega. An omega who showed his true nature every time he went to a café and ordered the most disgustingly sweet dessert available, one that could make even the strongest alpha gag from just a bite. An omega who let out happy little chirps whenever Tsumiki or Megumi gave him a drawing or some craft they made at school or at home. An omega who, without fail, made sure to scent both of his kids before they left for school, to keep them calm and comfortable while they were away—just like any other omega parent would. An omega who never hesitated to hiss at a stranger for even the slightest hint of disrespect toward his pups.

Gojo was an omega. An omega who could choose to reject Megumi as his pup. And Megumi wasn’t willing to lose all of that just because one stupid word had slipped past his lips. He doubted he’d ever be ready to lose it.

“Even if I were, you shouldn’t say those things,” the blue eyed sorcerer muttered, looking at the elderly woman in a way that could only be translated as: This conversation is over. “He’s my pup. That’s the only thing that matters.”

“My apologies,” the woman replied, starting to hand her items to the cashier, whose color had finally returned now that it seemed no fight was about to break out. Both she and Megumi relaxed too quickly. “He must look like his father then. A good alpha for a good omega.” And the omega froze on the spot. And as if she hadn’t just tilted Satoru’s whole world off its axis, she decided Megumi should share in the feeling too. “I’ll let you go, I’m sure he must be waiting for you eagerly.”

And she smiled—sweetly, like any other elderly lady would. As if she hadn’t just metaphorically slapped both him and Satoru across the face.

From the very start—even before growing attached to the man—Megumi had known that the topic of relationships was a sensitive one for the strongest sorcerer. He absolutely hated it. To the point that the green-eyed boy knew the older man would rather endure hours of paperwork than even touch the subject. The only thing both he and Tsumiki knew (thanks entirely to Shoko) was that there used to be an alpha. One who had promised Satoru everything he’d ever dreamed of since he could remember. An alpha who matched his strength. His one and only. But who had left overnight—long before the two children came into his life.

And it had been bad. Bad enough to make the blue-eyed man flinch at just the idea of having a partner again. Bad enough to make him glance twice whenever he saw an alpha with long black hair or who smelled like cedarwood. Bad enough that his own scent would slowly, almost imperceptibly, begin to change—becoming something sadder. Nostalgic. Longing. So, naturally, both kids (and Nanami, though he’d never admit it) hated the unknown alpha. Keeping that in mind, on a normal day, the boy (and his sister, if the occasion called for it) would try to cheer up the omega any way they could. And he wanted to—he really wanted to.

But then…

I’m sure he must be waiting for you.

Megumi’s mind collapsed under its own weight.

---

Satoru knew something was wrong with his pup.

Ever since they’d left the supermarket, Megumi had been tense — lost in whatever thoughts a six-year-old could possibly have. Which, knowing his little one, Satoru knew could be a handful. A dangerous handful. And he hated it; his inner omega spent a full two minutes debating whether to track down the old lady and Hollow Purple her, or to simply scoop his pup up and hold him close until those heavy thoughts went away. So no one could really blame him when, after putting the groceries in the car, he took his little blessing back into his arms, sitting with him in the back seat to slowly scent him.

And he knew his instincts had been right when, instead of frowning and exclaiming “I’m not a baby!” (which Satoru heavily disagreed with), the boy only snuggled closer into his chest, still clutching the dinosaur plushie. All the strongest sorcerer could do was coo.

After a few minutes — and only because his other pup’s class was about to end — the older one started to gently pull away. Feeling his heart breaking into tiny pieces when the response he got was a little whine from the smaller one, who, as always, clung to his shirt with one tiny hand and looked up at him with glassy eyes. Satoru could only croon.

“My blessing,” he murmured into the boy’s hair, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. “You tired, darling?”

He felt the little one mumble something unintelligible against his chest before nodding after a few seconds. Satoru didn’t resist the urge to hold him tighter — not that Megumi complained — even adjusting himself in the embrace. And Satoru felt so much love in his chest that he barely knew what to do with it.

“It’s okay, Gumi. You can rest,” he whispered softly.

After some time, with all the tenderness he could manage, the omega slowly set his pup down, crooning and nuzzling his forehead when the boy started whining again. He only stopped once Megumi was curled up in a little ball on his seat, lulled to sleep by Satoru’s scent. And all the man could do was smile and purr at the sight of his completely asleep pup, forcing himself to leave the back seat and start driving toward Tsumiki’s dance school.

And it was only when both his pups were in the car — Megumi dozing softly, and Tsumiki smiling wide as she held her new cat plushie, chatting quietly about everything that had happened during her class so as not to wake her brother — that Satoru’s inner omega finally found peace in his chest. Both of his pups safe and sound was all it took for him to fully relax in his seat.

And if you had told Satoru two years ago that this would be his life, he probably would’ve laughed in your face. But right now, he couldn’t imagine living any other way.

He didn’t know exactly when the change had happened, or how, but he knew that at some point, both pups had carved a place in his heart — a heart that, for a long time, he’d believed could never make room for anyone again. But it did. Not just for one person, but for two little souls for whom the strongest sorcerer would rip his heart out of his chest without a second thought.

He didn’t know the exact moment the change had taken place, but he knew that as days passed, he’d started to look forward — eagerly, happily — to the moment the kids left school. Because Tsumiki always greeted him with a smile, and Megumi, despite his constant frown and muttered “We can walk back home. You don’t need to pick us up,” would always end up glued to his leg. He knew that, as days passed, he couldn’t go on an outside mission without immediately searching for something to bring home as a gift for his pups. He knew that just thinking of them not being properly scented at school — and feeling anxious because of it — made him feel physically sick.

He didn’t know exactly when or how it had happened, but with every second they spent by his side, the thought of a life without his pups became more and more impossible. More unthinkable. More painful. Because, despite being only twenty years old and despite not being biologically related, they were his pups. His kids. His babies. No matter how much Megumi insisted otherwise.

They’d been his since the moment they started gifting him the drawings they made in class or at home. They’d been his since the moment he started wearing the colorful bracelets Tsumiki made for him. They’d been his since the moment Megumi looked at him longingly, wanting to be held every time a storm rolled in. But even that was nothing compared to the real moment he knew. Because Satoru did know when the change had happened. Because those pups had been his even before all of that.

They’d been his since the moment he first met them — the moment he cried all night, thinking how unfair it was that those two children had been living in such neglect and malnutrition. They’d been his since the moment his omega scratched at his chest the entire night, desperate to run to where they lived, desperate to make them a warm meal (even if he barely knew how to cook), desperate to bathe them, dress them in clean clothes, cuddle them in his arms, and mark them with his scent. Desperate to keep them safe in his arms.

They were his. And because they were his, Satoru could always tell when something was wrong. Just like now.

Even though Megumi had taken a small nap on the way home — and even though Tsumiki hadn’t left his side since they’d arrived — Satoru could still sense the boy’s tension. It was subtle. Subtle enough that anyone else would think the green-eyed pup was just tired or on the verge of a tantrum over something small. But because they were his, Satoru knew clear as day that it was something more serious.

Because Megumi only got like that when there was a thunderstorm- with the pup quietly and subtly (well, as subtly as for a six-year-old) inching closer in order to be held. He only got that tense the few times when, especially in the city, they’d encountered a curse so disgusting that even the strongest sorcerer grimaced, with Megumi pressed close to his side, and poor Tsumiki trying to make sense of the situation. So, with that in mind, something was definitely wrong — wrong enough to make Satoru’s omega stir restlessly in his chest while he put the groceries away.

And the worst part was that he couldn’t quite tell what.

Was Megumi coming down with a cold? Was he just tired from school and the supermarket trip? Had he taken offense at the old lady’s comment the same way Satoru had? Did he find it just as disrespectful? Or had it reminded him of something? Maybe it reminded Megumi that, for better or worse, he did have a father — one who, unfortunately,he was the carbon copy of. Maybe that comment had made him miss his old life. Or maybe it had stirred up questions the strongest sorcerer wasn’t sure he’d ever be ready to answer.

Or maybe Megumi just didn’t want to go to the school picnic, and this was just a big silent tantrum.

However, as the hours passed, the tension in the boy’s little body started to fade. Doing homework, watching a marine animals documentary, and serving as Tsumiki’s test dummy for her new hair stickers were enough distractions for the day. But then, once both kids had brushed their teeth — and after Satoru, Six Eyes and all, had managed to remove the stubborn stickers from both Megumi and himself — he tucked Tsumiki in and was about to do the same for Megumi when he felt the younger one’s gaze on him.

He didn’t say a word, knowing all too well that one wrong move could make the boy retreat again. So, humming softly and releasing calming pheromones in the process, the white-haired man tucked the smaller one in, handing him his wolf and dinosaur plushies. And that’s when he saw it — his little pup in distress, looking up at him with glassy eyes and a pout that made Satoru’s inner omega twist painfully in his chest.

“What’s wrong, my blessing?” the older one asked, brushing a hand through the pup's hair, checking for a fever, and sighing in relief when he found none. “What’s bothering you, hm?”

Megumi babbled something too quiet to understand, clutching his plushies closer. And Satoru didn’t even try to resist the urge to nuzzle his cheek against the boy’s forehead, pressing a tender kiss to his soft hair. With his body relaxing instantly when he saw some of the tension leave the pup´s little body.

And then—

“I don’ wanna go to the school’s picnic.”

Oh, this brat.

Satoru could only chuckle softly, pinching the little sea urchin’s cheek affectionately and laughing at the small, grumpy growl the black-haired boy made in response. Spoiled rotten. Both of his kids were spoiled rotten. Not that he planned to change that.

“What if…” he began, catching the boy’s attention, who perked up immediately at the implication. “You go to school—” And Megumi frowned, as if Satoru had deeply offended him. “Don’t give me that look, brat. As I was saying — you go to school, go to the picnic, and maaaybe I could pick you up an hour early.”

“Two hours.”

“Nuh uh. One hour.” And when the green-eyed boy looked like he was about to negotiate further, the strongest sorcerer pulled out the ultimate card — the one that always worked. “And if you actually try to have a good time there, in our free hour we'll try to summon your dogs. So, deal?”

The pup didn’t answer, but the small smile on his face confirmed the deal was sealed.

A few minutes later, after Megumi was properly tucked into bed and Tsumiki was sound asleep in her room, it was Satoru’s turn to start his nightly routine. Brushing his teeth, closing the curtains, turning off the alarm — thankful, from the bottom of his heart, that the next day was the weekend. And after, like every night, rearranging his nest and curling up in its center, he fell asleep.

But the rest didn’t last long.

Because after maybe two hours of sleep, the strongest sorcerer jolted awake — restless, clicking sounds spilling from his lips in pure distress as he instinctively searched for his pups in the vastness of his nest, whimpering when, of course, he found it empty.

And Satoru — the rational part of him — wanted to calm down, to organize his sleepy, worried thoughts and understand what had startled his omega enough to wake him like that. He debated for a few seconds whether it had been a nightmare or something else, trying to steady his pheromones so he wouldn’t wake or unsettle his kids.

But then—

Anguish. So much anguish and sadness in his chest that Satoru practically wailed in his bed. And without wasting a minute, his inner omega — now in full control of his body— nearly leapt out of bed. Because something wasn’t just wrong. No—

Something was wrong with his pups.

---

Megumi woke up in a room that wasn’t his.

He didn’t realize that because of the color of the walls — usually white and blue, now a dull beige stained with humidity and neglect. Nor did he notice it because of the change in his bedding, going from having the fluffiest of sheets and duvets to old, faded linens worn thin with use. He didn’t even notice it because of the lack of Satoru’s scent in the room — though, to be fair, he did notice that part, if only unconsciously. With his puppy brain instantly picking up on the absence of Satoru’s scent nearby, making him pout on the spot.

But all of that came second, because the first thing the pup noticed was that the stars were gone.

The stars from the night lamp Megumi turned on every night weren’t there. The stars from the lamp Satoru had given him because he was afraid of the dark — weren’t there.

Megumi wasn’t at home. Not even close.

With trembling movements, driven by fear and uncertainty, the boy climbed off the bed, flinching at the cold touch of the floor and the dust clinging to his feet, the creak of wood echoing beneath him. In just seconds, his once calm, sleepy breathing turned erratic, his heart pounding in his chest as if it wanted to escape with every passing second. Because once his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the unfamiliar room, he realized that, in truth, he knew exactly where he was. The broken brown furniture, the walls stained with dampness, the window with one torn curtain and the other cracked pane that always let the cold in—

He was in Tsumiki’s mom’s house. And judging by the looks of it, neither Tsumiki nor Satoru were with him. With that in mind, Megumi knew he had to get out. Immediately.

The good thing was that he knew the way back to the strongest sorcerer’s apartment. After all, Satoru had taught both him and his sister every possible route home, just in case of emergencies. The boy had never really understood the older man’s obsession with showing them all those alternative ways to the same building. Like, rationally, he knew it was for safety reasons—obviously. But four-year-old Megumi always thought it was a waste of time, especially considering that Satoru tended to get almost frantic each time either of them even tried to leave the apartment alone.

Now, though, he couldn’t be more grateful.

So he opened the bedroom door, the same way he’d learned years ago to make no noise. His heart was pounding in his chest, but his little face stayed serious, frowning. He was a little scared, yes—but he knew how to go home. He knew how to get back to Tsumiki and Satoru. And above all, he knew that the first thing he’d do once he got there was scold the older man for not teaching him how to summon his dogs earlier, considering how useful they’d be right now. He was going to get out. He was sure of that. It couldn’t be that hard.

He underestimated the situation.

“Megumi~” A female voice broke the silence. A voice so unsettling and out of place that it sent shivers down the boy’s spine. “Is that you?”

Megumi wanted to disappear into thin air.

Tsumiki’s mom had never really called him by his name—not that he remembered, at least. Not even when Toji was still around. The few times she was present, she always referred to him as “kid.” And that had been fine; it’s not like he even knew her name. But this wasn’t fine. At all. Because the only people who ever called him by his name without any suffixes were Tsumiki and Satoru. And Toji. But Megumi had never liked how Toji said his name. He never liked how the man always seemed on the verge of crying. Never liked how the alpha would always disappear soon after.

But that wasn’t the worst part. No, the worst part was that even though he hadn’t set foot in that apartment in two years, he knew something was wrong. Different. Unsettling in every possible sense of the word. Because the thing was, everything looked exactly the same as he remembered—the furniture arranged the same way, the walls and floor still as dirty as they had been when he left—but the air, the atmosphere, everything felt like it wanted him to curl up on the floor and call for Satoru.

But Satoru wasn’t there. Everything felt wrong, and Satoru wasn’t anywhere near. It was just him—and whatever entity that had called his name seconds ago. And never in his life had Megumi felt such despair. Never had he wanted to call for the older man so badly.

With trembling hands and every step taking all his courage, the boy started toward the kitchen, praying with all his might that whatever had called his name wasn’t there—praying for it to be in Tsumiki’s mom’s room. Or the bathroom. Even though he knew the voice had come from the kitchen. The kitchen that was right next to the front door. The front door that, Megumi still remembered, always made the most horrible noise when opened.

But maybe he could run. His teachers always said he was fast for his age, with both Tsumiki and Gojo having confirmed it. So maybe he could run, and once in the hallway, try to slip into some shadow nearby. He didn’t know if it would work—especially considering that his technique was only just starting to manifest. In all this time, Megumi had barely learned to play with shadows, to focus his cursed energy enough to make them shift at his will. But it always left him exhausted, which was why Gojo hadn’t taken his training further yet. But still, he could try. He could at least buy some time until the sorcerer found him. Because he wasn’t home, so surely Satoru must have already noticed his absence—so, surely he was looking for him… right?

But Megumi didn’t even have time to think about it. Not about Satoru possibly not looking for him, nor about his own escape plan. He didn’t have time to think at all. Because the second he set foot in the kitchen—he was lifted into the air. Two cold, thin hands wrapping around his body, holding him tight. And Megumi couldn’t stop the instinctive, terrified scream that escaped his lips. His whole little body trembled in pure fear.

Satoru. Where’s Satoru? I want Satoru. I wanna go home. Where’s m—?

“Megumi,” the voice cooed, settling him on her hip just like Satoru always did. But it all felt so wrong. Utterly wrong. Disgusting. The pup’s entire body recoiled in fear and revulsion, his lower lip trembling on the edge of a sob, eyes squeezed shut.

It’s a dream. It’s a nightmare. It’s not real. Can’t be real. No. I want m—

“Megumi,” the voice tried again, soft and caring, but with a hint of anger underneath. Dangerous. Not loving at all. Not like Satoru. And all Megumi wanted to do was cry. “Megumi, that’s not the way to treat your mother.”

And Megumi opened his eyes in pure disbelief.

In front of him stood an omega—probably Satoru’s age. But shorter, so much shorter, only a little taller than Shoko at best. Short dark hair, green eyes, pale skin. Himself. The carbon copy of him, but female and older. Alike—almost identical. Like twins. Like brother and sister. Like son and—

No. No. No no no no…

“You’re not my mom,” the boy almost whispered, glassy eyes wide open, shaking his head fast. He tried to pull away, pushing against the woman, kicking in panic—only making her grip tighten. And Megumi squeaked in terror. “You’re not my mom! Let me go! Let me go!”

“But Megumi…” she said, “I’ve been waiting for you so eagerly. I was dying to see you—to see my little pup…”

“YOU’RE NOT MY MOM!” Now the pup screamed, tears streaming down his flushed little face, utter distress twisting his features, small sobs breaking through his lips. “I don’t wanna be with you! Let me go!”

The omega just stared at him for a few seconds. Silent. And for a whole minute, Megumi navily thought she would finally let him go—that this nightmare would finally end. But then, when he tried again to escape her arms, she only held him tighter; the hand around his waist pressing harder against his abdomen. Megumi was about to hiss, but then she grabbed his chin with one hand, nails digging deep into his skin—and all the pup could do was whine in pain and fear.

She stared and stared at him for what felt like forever, until the most terrifying, devious smile stretched across her face. Not human at all. Not motherly at all. Far from it. “You know you’re not his pup, don’t you? You’re not his. So stop calling for him.”

The boy froze, full sobs shaking his trembling body. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t want to be there. He just wanted to go home—to Satoru and Tsumiki. But why couldn’t he wake up? Why was he still trapped in this nightmare? And why did those words hurt more than her nails digging into his cheeks? Why did Megumi, only now, feel so helpless?

“Such a disrespectful pup,” she hissed. “Your father and I have been waiting for you for so long. We’ve been looking everywhere. You didn’t think we wouldn’t come back, did you? We missed our pup so much…” As if on cue, Megumi heard footsteps in the hallway. Heavy. Rushed. Angry. An alpha’s steps. And if that wasn’t enough to make his heart pound wildly, the cedarwood scent slowly filling the air certainly was. It made him whimper—broken cries spilling from his lips.

And apparently, that was the final straw.

Because pups don’t whimper in their parents’ arms. It doesn’t make sense. It’s absurd. Because… why would they cry when they’re safe? But Megumi wasn’t safe. Satoru wasn’t there. So Megumi wasn’t safe at all.

As if reading his thoughts, the woman’s smile vanished completely, replaced by a dark, serious expression. Her lips twitched unnaturally, brows furrowed, nails digging even deeper into his cheeks and abdomen. The cedarwood scent was now overpowering, filling the entire room. And all Megumi wanted was his—

“YOU ARE NOT HIS MEGUMI!” the woman screamed, shaking him violently just as the alpha in the hallway began pounding on the door. A piercing sound filled the room— And it took Megumi a second to realize that it was his own screaming. “YOU ARE NOT HIS! YOU ARE NOT HIS! HE’S NOT YOUR M—”

Megumi woke up with a broken whimper leaving his lips.

He was in his bed—his real bed. The one with the blue dinosaur sheets, the one that carried Satoru’s scent, the one Megumi had been sleeping in for the past two years. He was in his room, with the stars from the lamp the older man had bought him decorating the ceiling. In his room, with the windows closed but the curtains slightly open, because Megumi actually liked waking up with the early sunlight. In his white-and-blue walled room, with no marks of dampness or dirt. It had been a dream. He was home. He was safe.

But Megumi couldn’t move.

He was lying in bed, both of his plushies pressed against one of his sides, but all he could feel was how his limbs were slowly coming back to life—as if his body was just catching up with the fact that, effectively, the green-eyed boy was awake now. And he hated it, but not because he couldn’t move. No, he hated it because he could still feel the omega woman’s hands on his body—on his face, on his stomach. He could still feel the pressure of her nails against his skin. And if Megumi really tried, he was sure he could even smell cedarwood in his room, even though there was nothing in his home that could possibly carry that scent. But that still wasn’t the worst part.

The worst part was that every time he blinked, he could still see the face of the woman who called herself his mother. He could still see her wild, angry eyes; he could still see the room in the apartment Gojo had rescued them from. He could see it all—to the point that he was sure if he fell asleep again, he’d return to that exact same dream, at the exact same moment where he woke up. He could still see it all. He could still hear it all. As if he was still there, as if the nightmare wasn’t a far cry from reality.

Because what would happen if Toji came back? After all, the black-haired boy didn’t really know what had happened to the alpha. All he knew was what Gojo had told him—and that was that he had disappeared. Nothing more, nothing less. And he had been fine with that. Until today. Until that older woman had, without realizing it, brought up the possibility that, in some way, the alpha could come back. That he could return to his life. That he could take him away from Satoru’s arms forever, and there would be nothing the boy could do to stop it.

Because he wasn’t his, right? He wasn’t Satoru’s pup, no matter how much he wished he was. He wasn’t. And it was only a matter of time before—even if Toji never came back—the omega decided to leave him. Just like Toji did, just like Tsumiki’s mom did. All because he was a defective pup, a clingy pup. Because he wasn’t Satoru’s kid. Because Satoru wasn’t his—

Megumi closed his teary eyes, trying to block out the thoughts—only for the omega woman’s voice to echo again.

“YOU’RE NOT HIS, MEGUMI! YOU’RE NOT HIS!”

Megumi blinked at the ceiling, a sob escaping his lips. And then another. And another. His whole body trembling, fat tears rolling down his cheeks, a heaviness in his chest so strong he couldn’t even name it. And with his limbs finally regaining enough strength to let him curl up into a little ball in his bed—Megumi wailed.

He cried and wailed for what felt like ages, the sobs ripping out of his chest with such force he could feel his throat burning. He keened, mournful cries breaking into broken purrs in a failed attempt to soothe himself. Because he couldn’t really make noise—his sister was sleeping next door and he couldn’t bother Satoru. But that only made him cry harder, because he didn’t want to soothe himself. He wanted Satoru. He wanted the omega to hold him and rock him to sleep, like a pup, like he was his pup. He wanted Satoru. He wanted his—

“Megumi!” a voice—now masculine—rang out in the room. Tender, loving, caring. Satoru’s voice. The omega’s voice who, in the blink of an eye, had crouched beside the bed, clicking sounds leaving his lips as he tried to get closer to the little one. His eyes filling with tears at the sight of the pup’s pure distress and sadness. “My baby,” he cooed, “What’s wrong, my angel? A-Are you hurt? What…”

“Mom,” the broken plea left the pup’s lips, freezing the older one in place. Megumi wailed harder. “M-Mom…”

With no answer from the omega, Megumi could only cry harder, trying uselessly to make himself smaller, wishing the earth would swallow him whole—or that he’d just pass out from exhaustion, whichever came first. Because he knew he shouldn’t have said it. He knew the weight that word carried. He knew that such a simple, powerful word could open the door to absolute rejection from the strongest sorcerer. But Megumi couldn’t take it anymore. Physically, he couldn’t. He was a pup—and pups want their moms. And somewhere along the way, without him ever realizing it, Satoru had become that.

His mom. Megumi wanted his mom. But Satoru didn’t see himself that way, right? Then why… why was the older one crying?

With a tenderness Megumi had never seen from the omega—even though he never treated them with something that wasn't love and fondness—Satoru gathered him into his arms. Megumi whined immediately, crying as the touch reminded him of the nightmare, his little body tensing and sobbing harder. But then—he was in Satoru’s lap. His flushed, tear-streaked face pressed against the older man’s chest, right over his heart. And then the omega covered them both with one of Megumi’s blankets, wrapping them up in the soft comforter along with Infinity. And when the omega began rocking them both gently on the bed, releasing protective pheromones and pressing the softest kiss to the pup’s forehead—as if he were a baby, as if he were his pup—

Megumi… Megumi could only cry. Like a baby. Like a pup. Like Satoru’s pup.

Satoru crooned softly, holding him tighter as the boy clutched his clothes with his little hands, nuzzling his face into the green eyed pup's hair, while he murmured sweet nothings into his ear. And Megumi didn’t understand. Wasn’t Satoru scared? Wasn’t he going to leave like the rest? Or… was there the smallest chance he felt the same? No. No way. There had to be another reason. He was sure of that.

He was sure of nothing. Because, as if the omega had read his mind, Megumi felt something wet on his hair, then on his temple, and then his forehead. And Megumi froze. Because Satoru was grooming him—purring all the while.

Grooming wasn’t something casual. Megumi knew that even at his young age. Some alphas did it to their omegas, if they loved them enough and shared a really, really strong bond. Or to their pups, if given the chance. But those were really rare occasions. Omegas, on the other hand, did it all the time—with their pups. Keyword in their. Because omegas never, ever groomed a pup that wasn’t theirs. That they didn’t consider theirs. Never. It was primal—pure instinct. An act intimately tied to their inner omega, to their need to protect and comfort their pups. A habit inherited from the time when their babies were so, so small, that wiping away their tears with their hands could hurt them. So small that even the slightest touch could bruise them—so the only way left was to lick their tears away. And then their face and hair, because their pups needed comfort. Because their pups needed their moms.

It wasn’t casual—not at all. Not for him, and not for Satoru. And Megumi couldn’t stop the happy chirp that escaped his lips even if he tried—the first chirp of his life. His eyes wide open, the sadness and anguish slowly fading from his body. Because there couldn’t be any doubt now. The omega wasn’t mad. Satoru wasn’t going to leave. Satoru was his—

“Mom,” Megumi whispered, more to himself than to call the older one. But the omega heard him anyway, purring even louder and letting out his own happy chirp in response—all while his scent turned warmer, softer, fond. Reassuring enough that anyone walking into the room would probably fall asleep instantly, or at least feel at peace.

And all Megumi could do was purr, curling further into the older man’s arms as he continued grooming him. And after a long while—when his cries had turned into soft, sporadic sobs and little hiccups—Megumi finally peeked out from his hiding place against the omega’s chest, looking up with eyes still teary and tired… but happy. Calm. Safer than he had ever felt in his life. Especially when Satoru looked down at him with so much love and awe that the green-eyed boy could have been fooled that he was a newborn baby and not a six-year-old pup—oblivious to the fact that, to the sorcerer, he definitely was. And always would be.

“There you are, my baby,” the omega cooed, pressing a featherlight kiss to the tip of his nose and wiping the little one’s tears away with one of his fingers. “My blessing… Did you have a scary dream?” 

Megumi could only nod, hiccuping softly as he reached out one tiny hand to the older man’s face, trying to wipe away his tears instead. Tears of joy. Of relief. Of pure fondness. “Mom.” 

Satoru let out a tender croon at the name, taking his little hand in one of his own to press a kiss into his palm, smiling softly as more tears spilled from his eyes. “Yes, my pup. I’m right here.”

And Megumi chirped again, immediately burying himself back in Satoru’s chest, soothed by the omega’s purrs. They stayed like that for a long time — maybe minutes, maybe hours — the green-eyed boy didn’t know, didn’t care. His mom’s arms and scent surrounded him, filling all his senses, until all that sadness and nervousness melted away, morphing into fuzzy, pure happiness. His little puppy brain taking full control of his body.

“My pup,” the omega whispered after a while, caressing the boy’s cheek with one hand. “Wanna sleep in mom’s nest, my blessing?”

Megumi nodded immediately, smiling and purring softly. With one last kiss pressed to his temple, the older one got up from the bed, the smaller one still curled against his side and wrapped in one of his blankets. And after handing him the two plushies left behind on his bed, he started walking toward his own room.

But not without a brief stop along the way.

Trying to make as little noise as possible, with Megumi perched on his hip, the omega stepped into his older pup’s room, purring softly at the sight of Tsumiki still asleep, completely undisturbed by her brother’s earlier distress. Which, honestly, wasn’t that surprising. Tsumiki was always the first one to get up every day (yes, even on weekends), but in exchange, she slept like the dead. Still, even after seeing his pup peacefully sleeping and safe, something primal in Satoru demanded that he have both of his pups in his arms, in his nest. His whole body recoiled in distress at the mere thought of not doing so.

So, with all the care he could manage with one pup already in his arms, he gently scooped Tsumiki into his free arm, tucking her against his side. He cooed softly and nuzzled his cheek into her hair the instant she was within reach, careful not to wake her. Tsumiki barely stirred.

“Dad,” the girl mumbled sleepily, curling against the omega’s shoulder. Satoru crooned at the name, kissing her forehead softly, rocking her gently in his arms until she drifted back to sleep. Only when both pups were safely in his arms did Satoru finally make his way to his nest.

Once inside his room, he quickly settled both children into the vastness of his nest, his entire body vibrating with joy and contentment. He started with Tsumiki, tucking her in carefully, wrapping her small body in the softest blankets while scent-marking her even more, if that was still possible. A tender smile curved his lips when the pup let out a happy sigh in her sleep.

Then he moved to Megumi, who was blinking slowly, clearly on the verge of falling asleep, both plushies pressed tightly to his chest. With loud purrs rumbling from his body, the omega repeated the process, tucking the younger one in beside his sister while marking him with his scent. Only after making a few final adjustments to the nest and checking — for the thousandth time — that both children were comfortable amid the sea of blankets and pillows, did he finally climb in himself.

And even if he tried, Satoru couldn't really put it into words. So much happiness, love, and tenderness coursed through his body that the omega barely knew what to do with it. He couldn’t stop smiling as he watched both of his pups sleeping peacefully.

Well, at least, one of them was sleeping.

With a grin threatening to split his face in two, Satoru lowered his gaze to the supposedly sleeping pup at his side, finding Megumi staring right back at him — sleep-heavy, glassy green eyes meeting his own. But not like before. Not sad or troubled. No, just calm. Full of love. Like a baby watching his mother. And it took everything in Satoru not to cry right on the spot.

“Mom,” the boy mumbled sleepily, reaching one small hand toward him. And all the omega could do was wrap him in his arms, pulling him against his chest instantly, blue eyes glistening without his permission.

“Pup,” he whispered against his forehead, pressing a kiss to the soft skin beneath his lips while gently stroking the boy’s hair, feeling Megumi finally drift off to sleep in his arms, content puppy purrs rumbling from his little body. And Satoru didn’t stop the tears as they fell. “My pups.”

Notes:

FUN FACTS:

(that is, facts I didn't find a way to include organically in the story, but that are canon in this universe)

• The old woman at the supermarket actually did have bad intentions. In this universe (and, I believe, in real life too), it’s considered rude to tell a pup’s parents that the little one doesn’t look like them. For alphas, that’s like saying their omega cheated on them, which is why the child doesn’t resemble them. For omegas, it’s like questioning their role as a parent. Moreover, any offensive comment toward an omega’s pups is a huge, huge sign of disrespect — hence Satoru’s reaction.
•Based on that, Megumi — despite being very rational and intelligent for his age — doesn’t see this as an insult for two reasons. First, he’s six. What do you expect? Second, and more importantly, he’s so afraid of Satoru’s rejection that he doesn’t perceive the woman’s question as malicious, but rather as something anyone would ask given their situation. Logical. Like, she’s just speaking facts. So Megumi is, in a way — due to his insecurity and six-year-old mindset — an unreliable narrator.
• NOT SO FUNNY FACT: Shoko never told the kids what Suguru had promised Satoru before he left. Because what he had promised was that someday, they would be mates and have children. But then, Suguru not only left but also adopted the twins on his own. You can imagine Satoru’s reaction.
•Toji doesn’t smell like cedarwood. In fact, Megumi doesn’t remember his scent — he only remembers that it was strong. But he does know that Suguru smelled like cedarwood. And in Megumi’s little brain, everything related to Suguru is bad, which is why he dreamt of that
•Tsumiki calls Satoru dad because she still has memories of her mother. I’ll leave it up to you whether she eventually starts calling him mom like Megumi does, or if she keeps calling him dad.
•Every time Megumi babbled something Satoru couldn’t quite hear, it was Megumi calling him mom.