Chapter Text
Saturo Gojo was not having a good day.
He had been played, embarrassed, and humiliated within the very walls of his school by Toji Fushiguro.
Not only had the man managed to drive his weapon through a body that had been considered untouchable—he had also killed him.
Technically.
There wasn’t any other way to describe what happened. Toji won, and Saturo’s power had managed to cheat its way back into the game.
The guy was strong. But he couldn’t compare to the strength Saturo needed to use his reversed cursed technique finally.
Plenty of sorcerers speak of how powerful Saturo was. Yet they seemed to forget that being that powerful meant he could hear them speaking ill of him.
But they weren’t wrong either.
It wasn’t that fair. No other sorcerer could compare the mere sight of Saturo Gojo. And even Toji couldn’t beat him in the end.
And after months of twisting and turning in bed, debating whether he should pretend that fight never happened, or just brush it off, Saturo came to a conclusion.
He wasn’t obligated to do this. But honouring the man’s last words would hopefully make Saturo feel as though he was being a modest winner.
So here he was, attempting to fulfill whatever strange wish Toji had for his son.
Saturo peered around the area with barely contained disdain. There was an overflowing dumpster nearby that the city seemed content to ignore due to the area. And the apartments were cheap and crumbling.
According to what the kid had said just moments ago, he and his sister had been living alone for quite some time.
The boy didn’t address his sister’s mother as his, which meant they weren’t related.
Which also meant, three people so far had failed to watch two quiet and boring kids.
Pathetic.
It was a strange sight, really. Seeing the way the kid’s eyes squinted up to stare at the taller teenager and the way his spiky and unkempt hair draped across his forehead.
The resemblance between him and his father was striking.
It made Saturo uneasy.
Yet the kid apparently had no idea just how unsettling he was to the white-haired teen looming over him.
“Now, to the main point.” Saturo clasped his hands together.
He crouched down to be eye level with the boy.
“What do you want to do? Do you want to go to the Zen’in?”
“If I do go there… do you think my sister will be able to find happiness?” Megumi frowned.
The boy rubbed the back of his head. “If she can, then..”
“No,” Saturo replied. “A hundred percent no.”
He didn’t need to sugarcoat it. Not for a brat who was rude to him, anyway.
“I can say that with certainty.” He adds.
The boys' grip on the oversized backpack hunched over him tightened.
He said nothing.
“Okay! Leave the rest to me!” Saturo grinned from ear to ear.
Megumi just rolled his eyes again and began walking away from the absurd questions Saturo threw in his face.
Saturo didn’t seem to care, already walking off with his newfound information on his enemy’s children.
He didn’t bother looking back.
He never did.
He was standing back in that room again. The one carefully lit by candles tracing every corner.
He hated it.
Saturo had told himself that the next time he was ordered in here—he would use those candles to burn every piece of shit hidden behind their expensive shoji doors.
“It’s truly incredible what you have managed to learn in such a short time.” One of the higher-ups purred.
“And the fact you’ve finally managed to tamper with your reversal red technique…” He continues. “It’s—“
“Why am I here?” Saturo impatiently clicks his tongue.
They weren’t actually pleased about the fact that he had managed to defeat such a powerful opponent.
If anything, this revealed that Saturo had become an even stronger thorn in their wrinkled sides.
And the higher ups hated the fact he was a weapon that they couldn’t chain down.
Saturo spent the past seventeen years of his life being worshipped as a being superior to all.
His nurtured ego obviously didn’t need more praise. Those were the words spoken by the very people in this room.
Which meant that if they were actively contradicting themselves—they wanted something from him.
“From our understanding, Fushiguro had a son.” Another spoke casually.
Too casually.
Saturo understood that Toji had likely changed his last name at some point after he abandoned his clan.
He wasn’t told that before his fight. He had simply assumed it based on the way the man’s blood would boil every time Saturo mockingly emphasized Zen’in when he addressed him.
It was only afterward that Saturo found out his last name was Fushiguro.
“The Zen’in clan considers strength to be a virtue. Human worth is entirely measured by cursed energy and inherited techniques. Toji Fushiguro was deemed useless by them.” One of the higher-ups spoke arrogantly.
He continued. “Admitting they were wrong about him would’ve meant acknowledging they had miscalculated their assumptions about him due to his lack of cursed energy.”
Saturo’s eye twitched faintly behind his sunglasses. These old assholes were fat and useless. They likely hadn’t fought a day in their lives.
But for some reason, they had a whole lot of shit to talk about all the sorcerers who fell in battle.
“What do you think, Gojo?”
Satoru sighed, finally tuning back into the conversation. “Hah? Sure.”
“You want the Zen’in clan and Gojo clan to build a better relationship?” The surprise was evident in the tone of another voice.
“Why would I want that?” Saturo laughed mockingly.
Saturo could feel the harsh gazes on him. Even through the walls preventing him from seeing the cowards' faces.
“Because it would create a stronger bond between two powerful families?” Another add’s quickly.
That wasn’t wrong. The two families were incredibly well known in the sorcerer world, and creating a more defined relationship between the two would likely benefit both sides.
Especially after the grudge that’s been continued since the Edo period.
“And how exactly would I go about building this bond? Hmmm?” Saturo says lazily.
“Fushiguro’s child is at a good time in his development as a possible sorcerer to be sold. And considering you are the sole person who knows of his whereabouts—we recommend you sell him without cost.”
Saturo pauses.
“Two or three years from now, my kid will be sold off to the Zen’in clan. Do what you will with that.”
Toji had entrusted something to him, even if the request had been delivered in the most careless way imaginable.
“This is wonderful news,” one of the higher-ups beamed. “The Zen’in will love to hear—“
“No.”
The atmosphere in the room shifts. Saturo could hear the sound of bodies sitting up and tensing.
“No, what?”
“No. I will not be giving them Megumi Fushiguro.”
A woman sighs. “You are young and prideful. Would you please lose this pride for a moment and think about your choices? This is a wonderful way to rekindle ties with the Zen’in.”
“Fuck the Zen’in,” Saturo rolls his eyes. “As the head of the Gojo clan, and the only living Six Eyes user—I decline.”
“You’re being childish again,” an older man retorts. “If you won’t sell the child, where will he go?”
Saturo turns his back to them, already preparing to walk out of the dimly lit room.
“I’ll raise him.” He lies.
Truth be told, Saturo has no real interest in taking care of a rude and broke little kid. And if he took in Megumi, he’d also have to take care of his sister.
So the logical thing would be to just hand them over and make it easier for the higher-ups and the Zen’in’s.
But making things difficult was what Saturo was best at.
After all, in a few months when this blows over and everyone in charge forgets about shit as usual—he’ll just get rid of the kids and send them off to some foster system.
He had no hope that Megumi would be a good sorcerer.
Most kids would have had their techniques by now if they were going to be even a measly grade four sorcerer.
The boy had a surprisingly large among of cursed energy even though he came from a normal human and a sorcerer who had literally none. But late bloomers never turn out to be anything special.
So the chances of him being worth much were slim.
“The jujutsu world operates through an established system. You can’t play god every time, Gojo.” The female voice croaks.
Satoru scoffs.
“I said what I said. He’s mine.” He leaves no room for discussion, already stepping towards the door.
“Oh, and I’ll have you all know,” He adds. “That if the Zen’in attempt to get Fushiguro’s kid back, it’ll be a personal attack against the Gojo clan.”
It was surprisingly easy to obtain legal ownership over the siblings. With Saturo’s influence as the head of the Gojo clan, and by pulling the two under the jurisdiction of Jujutsu High—the Zen’in couldn’t claim what Toji had promised them.
That was new to Saturo as well.
The man who had obviously implied that he didn’t want his son sold to his ex-clan apparently already fucking negotiated with them about selling.
But now Saturo was in far too deep to suddenly surrender his claim without showing weakness.
The first few months however, were a wonderful breeze of zero responsibility.
With Saturo actively funding their small apartment located in Saitama plus necessities, the two had everything they needed to be happy.
He was surprisingly good at this.
Saturo thought to himself, scrolling through transaction logs late into the night in one of the Gojo residences.
Saturo didn’t normally feel compelled to sleep. Though tonight his eyes felt heavy enough that he could muster up a few hours of being unconscious.
It was unusual, but not unpleasant.
For the past year or so he could never fall asleep. Even with the strongest doses of medication or even drinking himself to death. He knew exactly why he couldn’t sleep. But that was something he refuses to address.
He sighed, fiddling with his pitch-black eye mask as his phone shut off with a quiet click and he finally rolled onto his side to sleep.
But sleep never came.
Only about ten minutes later, he was rudely awakened by the sound of frantic buzzing on his phone.
Saturo gritted his teeth, simply throwing a pillow over his head and squeezing his eyes shut once more.
It rang once.
Then again.
And again.
“What the fuck are they calling me for!?” Saturo shot up, nearly knocking the various items off his bedside table while reaching for his phone.
Jujutsu High tended to call him when the other first or second year sorcerers couldn’t get shit done themselves.
Rather than seeing the persistent calls of the school needing something, it was a strange number he didn’t recognize.
He rubbed his temple. “Hello?”
“I can’t find Megumi!” A young girl’s voice broke on the other end of the line.
“Tsumiki?” Saturo tilted his head.
She sniffled. “What?”
Saturo cursed under his breath. It was far too early in the morning to be calling him, though if she had finally called him it meant she used the emergency phone number he gave her.
“Did’ya check his closet?”
“Mhm…”
“And under his bed?”
“Yeah…”
“What about behind the couch?”
“I checked everywhere Gojo-sama! He’s not here!” Tsumiki sobs.
Satoru dressed himself frantically, already raising questions of the kid’s possible whereabouts in his head.
Did a curse get him?
Or maybe the Zen’in clan actually went for it?
“I’ll find him, okay? Just hang in there for a second.” He said quickly over the phone, snapping himself out of his racing thoughts.
Tsumiki Fushiguro was not having a good day.
The other kids in her class were making fun of her for never getting dropped off by a parent.
She had lied countless times, claiming that they were too busy with their super-rich grown-up jobs to drive her.
Obviously, that wasn’t true. Even without the job part her multiple guardians had been too busy for her.
Nothing changed much after Gojo showed up. She was as grateful as a seven-year-old could be that someone was finally making sure they were well fed and educated.
But she still felt incredibly sad.
Tsumiki didn’t like cooking. Especially not for her and Megumi even though they had enough money now.
They lived alone before. But strangely she had hoped that once the strange man took them in, they’d be a happy family again.
Megumi could see it too. The same way they always get left to fend for themselves because nobody wants them.
This morning, her brother was strangely quiet. He seemed to be constantly lost in thought and had even come home early after the nurse told him he seemed a bit under the weather.
When Tsumiki came home, she didn’t notice anything strange. Instead, she plopped down on the living room carpet and started doing the math sheets she’d been given to do at home.
Everything remained normal.
Do the dishes (as per her half of the week), make rice balls for dinner, go to sleep.
That was her afternoon routine every single night.
Megumi didn’t seem particularly hungry or interested in her friendly banter today, though he never was.
It was 3:24 am when she woke up to the sound of a yelp coming from the room next door.
Carefully getting out of bed, Tsumiki walked over to her brother's door and nudged it open with her foot.
Rather than being met with his defiant or unimpressed gaze, she was met with utter silence and an absence of him.
She checked every corner, every nook, heck she even checked in the fridge and Megumi was gone.
Tsumiki raced over to the fridge where a small, yellow sticky note was pressed to the side.
Gojo had written his number on it so that she could call only during emergencies.
This was an emergency wasn’t it?
Megumi Fushiguro was not having a good day.
Since the moment he woke up that morning, the hairs on his arm were up, and goosebumps erupted against his skin.
It was like every possible tingling sensation in his body was going off at the same time.
The school nurse had graced him with an early school day, and he was already sent home by lunch.
He didn’t like school much anyway. The other boys bothered him with their stupid remarks and snobby opinions on other quiet kids.
And today it felt like he was going to snap and attack one. Though he never did.
Tsumiki warned him constantly that he could be kicked out of school if he ever tried. She was getting made fun of too, but she never talked back.
It was enraging to him. Those bullies only ever picked on everyone else because they knew that he’d argue back.
Which meant even his older sister was a target of the same kind of kids in her own grade.
A part of him wanted them to start picking on him so he’d get a proper excuse to give them all black eyes.
Making a simple sandwich for lunch was generally normal other than his foot getting caught on something. Though strangely enough when he finally pulled his foot from what he was stuck on—there was nothing on the tile floor.
Megumi was too hungry to bother looking for whatever dumb reason made his steps falter.
His sister joked about his clumsiness far too much for him to be concerned over something so usual for him.
Tsumiki came home eventually and did homework while he watched TV. They ate dinner together and talked about how satisfying it would be to see those bullies from school fall in the mud, and then finally it was bedtime.
He didn’t know what time it was when shivers blooming through his body woke him from his sleep.
It was as if the room had dropped drastically in temperature even though the windows were kept shut to keep the warm air in.
Megumi knew he needed to take some medicine. The weirdo who “adopted” them had made sure to stock up on that at least.
Maybe a hug from Tsumiki like usual would make him feel better as well.
It always did.
As he crept towards his door, he felt his foot pull against something again. It had that same cold, almost weightless feeling as before.
He grumbled tirelessly, looking down to see what he could be stuck against now.
This time however, he didn’t see his foot caught on anything.
That was because he couldn’t see his foot.
It was in the floor.
His foot was in the floor!?
Megumi whimpered. “Tsumiki!—“
The words couldn’t leave his mouth in time before he felt the rest of his body drop.
He couldn’t breathe, every attempted inhale left tears pricking in the corners of his widened eyes.
He had to be falling.
There was nothing to grab, nothing to see, and certainly nobody to help.
Megumi’s eyes finally caught a faint glimpse of light above him, and even though he didn’t feel like he was even moving—he managed to pull himself onto the grass.
He breathed frantically, finally able to catch his breathe after feeling like he was underwater. His eyes were still red rimmed and wet.
Megumi turned head turned frantically. He was in a park now. It didn’t look like any of the ones near the apartment or school, and it definitely wasn’t safe to be in at night.
His legs wobbled as he began to move towards a nearby street light. His eyes felt heavy and his head tingled.
A man was leaning against the brick wall of a run-down convenience store next to it.
Adults always have phones. Megumi nodded to himself, already moving toward the stranger with confidence.
“Excuse me,” Megumi said, shifting nervously. “Can I borrow your phone please?”
The man’s eyes widened, before narrowing into dangerous slits.
“Why do you need it?”
Megumi’s brows furrowed. “I’m lost. I have to call my sister.”
The guy pushed himself off the wall, staring down at him with amusement.
“Why don’t you come get in my car and you can tell me the address to where ya’ live?”
“Um. I only need to borrow your phone.” Megumi responded quietly.
“Nah. it’ll be quicker if we just drive there. You don’t want to keep your sister waiting, right?” The man ignored Megumi’s request, already walking towards where his car was.
“That’s fine I guess,” Megumi murmured, his smaller legs already quickly pursuing the man’s path.
Megumi was finally led to a run-down car parked haphazardly in an empty parking lot.
“This is it, kid,” The man smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Hop on in.”
Just before Megumi could nod his head and open the back door, a high and confident voice broke out from behind the two.
“I don’t think he will.”