Chapter Text
"Oi, wake up."
Megumi stirred and mumbled, "Mm, five minutes."
He turned away from the window and tried to chase the remnants of sleep for just a few more minutes. He was starting to fall back asleep when the alarm bells in his sluggish morning brain finally started ringing and his eyes flew open. He was supposed to be alone in his room, there was nobody he was supposed to request five more minutes of sleep to.
He hastened up into a sitting position, body on high alert and hands already in position to summon his shikigami.
It turned out he needn’t have bothered.
"What the fuck are you doing here?"
Fushiguro Toji shot him a bored glance. “Is that any way to talk to your father?"
Now Megumi was a private person, hardly anyone knew the details of his personal life but there was one secret he guarded above all else.
He was being haunted. By the ghosts of his past sure, but also an actual ghost. They were incidentally the same thing.
The spirit of his deceased father.
Toji had first appeared when Megumi's Ten Shadows Technique had manifested itself fully. There had been indistinctly shaped shadows around Megumi since he was a toddler but his Demon Dogs had only materialised when he was nearing eight years of age.
With no regard for the utter shock he was going to give his child, Toji had turned up as a wispy ghost with a contemplative look. “So, you really did inherit it. I mean, I knew but two proper shikigami before the age of ten? You have more potential than I thought.”
He somewhat resembled the vague memories of his father Megumi still possessed—a heavily muscled man with straight black hair, with a cut on the left side of his mouth and an unnerving coldness in his eyes.
Megumi, to his credit, had at least not fainted but he stood frozen on the spot, his heart pounding in his chest as he stared at the man.
Toji had sighed. “Do you even remember me?”
Megumi had just gaped at him.
“Well, I’m your dad,” he had explained and when Megumi still didn’t respond, he’d rolled his eyes and taken his leave with a, “See you later, kid.”
The thing was Megumi didn’t want to see him later. He wanted to brush away the incident as a hallucination and forget about it forever.
He was not afforded that luxury.
Toji visited him a couple of times every year, mostly during special occasions like his birthday or sometimes when he was visiting Tsumiki at the hospital later in his life. Unsurprisingly, Fushiguro Toji was pretty absent as a ghostly parent too and Megumi had stopped letting it bother him a long time ago. His father didn’t actually impact his life in any way, there was no reason to overthink it. He had been anxious at first about other people seeing Toji but even Gojo, with his freaky Six Eyes, didn’t seem to detect his presence.
So, there it was.
The ghost of his father visited and talked to him sometimes. Big deal. There were more things to worry about in Megumi’s life.
Like the thousand-year-old King of Curses who’d been awakened in a teenage boy’s body. The teenage boy who was also Megumi’s neighbour and begrudging best friend.
It seemed Toji had sniffed out Sukuna’s rebirth from his ghostly plane too, because lately he's been appearing more and more into Megumi’s life, for reasons he still didn’t understand. It wasn’t like he could do anything in his incorporeal form other than give orders and spout bullshit.
Megumi was tired.
Toji squinted at the shounen manga cover stuck to Megumi’s arm. "Were you reading this all night? This is the stuff you’re into? You've changed."
“You don’t know me,” Megumi hissed, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “Can you even read?"
"That's low, kid."
Megumi peeled the manga off his skin and sighed. "It's fun, okay? Kind of. The art is nice."
Toji looked dubious but before he could question him further, there was a series of knocks on the door.
“Fushigurooo!” Itadori called, sounding way too chipper for this early in the morning.
Megumi exhaled, running a hand through his unruly hair. “Come in, Itadori.”
Itadori barged into his room like an overexcited puppy, already dressed in his uniform.
“Huh, you aren’t ready yet?” Itadori blinked. “That’s odd. You’re usually the one dragging me out of bed.”
Megumi mumbled, “I overslept.”
He pointedly refused to look at his father and tried to pretend that he wasn’t there. It was too humiliating.
“Well, your timing is great!” Itadori told him. “Sensei said our mission is cancelled, the second years took care of it on their way back from their mission yesterday. Man, I woke up early for no reason.”
Megumi’s lips curled into a little smile at the childish whine in Itadori’s voice. “You could go back to sleep.”
Itadori pouted. “It’s not the same. I already ate and everything. I made some breakfast for you too, by the way, it might still be hot if you’re lucky—” his eyes snapped to the thin book on Megumi’s pillow and widened. His face split into a huge grin. “Hey! Is that what I think it is?”
Megumi felt the back of his neck heat up. “Y-yeah. I was bored last night and decided to give it a try. Don’t make a big deal about it.”
Itadori ignored him and stumbled on to Megumi’s bed on his knees, invading Megumi’s personal space. He was a barely contained ball of energy. “Did you like it? What did you think? Where did you reach? Did you see it when—no wait, I don’t want to spoil you. Who’s your favourite? Who did you hate? What was your reaction when—”
Itadori excitedly rambled on about his favourite parts of the story, insisting that Megumi describe in detail what he thought of them too.
Megumi couldn’t do anything but indulge him, taking in his fill as he looked at Itadori. The light in his eyes, his bright smile, the cadence of his voice. He felt something in his heart tug delicately.
Well, shit. That was still happening, then.
Suddenly finding it a little hard to breathe with Itadori so close to his face, Megumi put a hand on his shoulder and pushed him back to an arm’s length.
“Itadori, I just woke up,” he said. “We’ll talk about it later.”
Itadori blinked, quieting for a second and then beamed again. “Sure! I’ll heat up your breakfast in the meanwhile!”
Megumi nodded, allowing himself a small smile. “Thanks.”
Itadori affectionately ruffled his hair and bounded out of the room in a flurry of black, pink and red.
Megumi stared after him and let out a sigh.
"So that's why you were reading that drivel.”
Megumi startled. Oh right, he’d almost forgot he had company. He averted his gaze and started making up his bed.
“Megumi?” Toji said after a moment.
“What?”
"You're gay?"
Megumi hurled his pillow at the ghost. "Please fuck off."
Later that day, Megumi was in the middle of putting back all the packets of junk Itadori had picked up at the konbini they were in when he felt a sudden shiver go up his right arm.
Please not again.
A familiar gruff voice drawled, “Wait, keep the Barbeque flavour. It’s good.”
Megumi sent a glance around the aisle to make sure he was alone. Itadori was nowhere in sight, probably somewhere being attracted by every shiny thing that caught his eye or already breaking into the stack of manga he’d bought at the bookstore earlier.
"Oh, it's you again,” Megumi said in a low voice, pointedly keeping the Barbeque flavoured chips back on the shelf simply out of spite. “Careful, or I'll mistake you for an actual parental figure."
Tiny Toji—as Megumi liked to call the small version of his father who loved to materialise on Megumi’s shoulders and sit there with his legs crossed—ignored his quip and stroked his chin thoughtfully.
Megumi supposed that was one habit he’d picked up from him. He was going to try his hardest to break it.
"So, I was just floating around, thinking,” Toji continued.
“You can do that?” Megumi muttered.
“—and I saw your boy by the frozen food. And I was wondering, why's his hair pink?"
Megumi ignored the sudden flutter in his stomach at Itadori being referred to as his boy and mumbled, "He dyes it. I've helped him a few times."
There was a pause and Megumi prayed that his father had decided to grant him mercy and fucked off for the day.
But then: ”Wow, you really are gay."
Megumi clenched his jaw tightly and started walking towards the counter. “So being a piece of shit wasn’t enough, you have to be homophobic too.”
Toji scoffed so loud near Megumi’s ear that he had to turn his head to shoot him a glare.
"Nah, I get it," Toji said with a wistful look and Megumi didn't even want to begin to unpack that. “I met a guy when I was twenty-five, had me infatuated for a week.”
Megumi glanced at him, surprised, and against his better judgement probed further. “And? What happened to him?”
“Oh, I killed him. No set of pretty eyes are worth two million yen.”
Of course. He shouldn’t have asked.
Megumi groaned. "Oh my god, you belong in the darkest pits of hell."
Toji shrugged and gestured around. "I mean, I’m there, aren’t I?"
And Megumi had no choice but to agree with that.
"Why couldn’t have I gotten my mother’s ghost instead of you?” he sighed.
"Oh, her?” Toji said, his voice taking on a softer edge that had Megumi pausing in his steps. “No, she's passed on peacefully.”
Despite everything, it brought a smile to Megumi’s lips.
"You remind me of her actually," he continued and Megumi's heart warmed even more. Maybe his father was capable of being a human being sometimes.
"Although that hair suited her much better, you just look like a sea urchin."
Megumi's heart turned stone cold again. Never mind.
“Thanks,” he muttered, turning a corner when he spotted Itadori’s peach hair by the stationary. “Can you leave? I’m going to get Itadori now.”
“And what are you doing with him that you want me gone?” asked Toji in a bored voice, a shit-eating grin on his face.
Megumi turned red and sputtered, “What are you implying?”
“What are you implying?”
“Fushiii!” Itadori’s voice interrupted as he sprinted up to him.
Megumi cleared his throat and acted like he wasn’t just arguing with the spirit of his dead father. Who was watching them curiously now, as if they were a live entertainment show.
Megumi hated his life sometimes.
“You okay?” Itadori asked, his brown eyes widening a little in concern. “You look flushed. Do you have a fever?”
Before Megumi could answer, Itadori was all up in his space, pushing his fringe back and feeling his forehead with a calloused palm. Megumi felt himself go even redder.
“Hmm, you’re a little warm,” Itadori deduced, forehead scrunching in concentration.
“I’m fine,” Megumi croaked, gently pulling Itadori’s hand off him. He briefly imagined slipping his fingers through Itadori’s instead of letting go but before that thought could fully manifest, he dropped it.
There was no way he was doing it in front of Toji, he didn’t think he could handle being called gay again.
“Well, if you’re sure!” Itadori said brightly. “Anyway, I got you something!”
Upon Megumi's questioning look, he brought his other hand forward and proudly presented Megumi with a…pen.
A dog pen, to be more precise. It looked like a cheap ballpoint pen, just with a white dog bobblehead on the top. Itadori had even drawn a shikigami mark on its forehead with a red marker and Megumi’s chest twisted so painfully, he barely survived it.
It was a tacky, childish piece of stationary that Megumi would never even look at, much less purchase but sitting atop Itadori’s hand, with Itadori’s hopeful gaze on his face, Megumi found himself accepting it gingerly and giving him a soft smile. “Thanks. I really like it.”
Itadori beamed, pleased and Toji snorted somewhere behind Megumi.
Megumi barely suppressed the urge to turn around and try to strangle him.
Fortunately, he disappeared when they stepped out after paying and Megumi thanked the gods above for small mercies because they hadn’t even walked two steps when he felt an additional jacket being draped over him.
He looked sideways at Itadori, startled.
“Just in case you’re coming down with something,” Itadori said with a sheepish smile, donned in only a hoodie now.
Megumi’s throat felt too tight to speak and he just nodded faintly.
Itadori’s jacket around him was warm, uncomfortably so but Megumi found himself clutching to it, inhaling Itadori’s scent until he felt lightheaded with it.
God, Toji was right. He really was fucking gay.
Megumi found himself on his back with Itadori on top of him and he wasn't even happy about it.
He groaned as the gravel dug into his skin and looked up to meet Itadori's guilty expression. He was rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly as though it was his fault Megumi had been overpowered by him.
"Ah sorry, Fushiguro," he said with a nervous smile, offering him a hand. "Didn't mean to push you so hard."
"It's fine," Megumi mumbled, taking his hand and letting himself be pulled up. "You won, fair and square."
Itadori helped him dust himself off and Megumi felt his skin tingle wherever his touch lingered. His stomach coiled tightly when his eyes met Itadori’s and the other boy offered him a tentative smile.
Megumi took a hasty step back. "I'm just—” he pointed vaguely to his left. “—going to take a little break."
Itadori nodded, looking a little pink himself and busied himself with finding another partner.
"Sloppy, sloppy," Toji commented when Megumi sat himself down on the edge of the field. "You were distracted today."
So, it was noticeable then.
“I know,” he admitted through gritted teeth. “It happens sometimes with Ita—it happens.”
Toji hummed. "Hand-to-hand combat and sparring and cursed tools. So old-fashioned. Have you considered a gun?"
It was a testament to how used to Megumi was getting to his father that he didn’t even bat an eyelid. "No."
"Who's that girl?” Toji asked next, pointing to where Maki-senpai was absolutely destroying Panda-senpai. “She looks like another girl I saw using a gun sometime back. From the other school."
Megumi pursed his lips, swallowing when Itadori smiled and waved at him from afar.
"Could you not talk to me in public?” he said quietly, looking down when Itadori had turned away. “People will think I've gone insane."
Toji snorted. "You're my son, do they not already think that?"
His narcissism rivalled Gojo-sensei’s. It was a wonder Megumi didn’t turn out worse with these men as his sole parental figures.
He picked the easier question to answer. "That's Zenin Maki,” he said finally. “She's like you, I suppose. Wasn't born with cursed energy. She wears those glasses to see curses. You must have seen her twin, Mai."
Toji stroked his chin thoughtfully. "A Zenin, huh? That must've been tough for her."
Megumi gave a small nod, picking at the grass by his feet. "I don't know much but from what I’ve heard, yes."
Toji had an unreadable expression on his face as he watched Maki that Megumi had never seen before. It spoke of regret, familiarity.
It prickled at Megumi for some reason.
"How's she holding up?"
Megumi shrugged. "Well, she hasn't turned into a contract killer yet."
Toji chuckled, stretching his arms. "Better than rotting with the Zenins."
Megumi clenched his fists, keeping his eyes down. "Well,” he said quietly. “You didn't have a problem subjecting me to that fate for a few million yen."
There was a stunned silence and then Toji turned to face him incredulously. "Is that what you think?”
Megumi kept quiet, refusing to look him in the eye.
“No, Megumi,” he continued and Megumi thought he might have felt a hand on his shoulder if his father were corporeal. “I’m not saying I wasn’t looking for personal gain or that what I did was ‘morally’ correct. But it would've been different with your abilities.” He snapped his fingers in front of Megumi’s eyes. “Are you listening to me, kid? You would've been made the clan leader eventually. Better than that punk Naoya."
Megumi didn’t know who that was and he didn’t care. He’d made his peace with his past and wasn’t looking for reassurances or consolation from the person who had sold him. He didn’t care if Toji thought he would’ve thrived in the Zenin household or how valuable he’d judged Megumi’s skills to be—it was all meaningless in the face of the fact that he hadn’t batted an eye before selling his only child to the family he himself had fled from, that he knew was despicable and rotten to the core.
Megumi felt a wisp of a familiar anger stir up in him, white hot and resentful but he tamped it down, digging his nails into his palms. None of it mattered anymore.
“Whatever. It all worked out in the end, no thanks to you,” he settled on and exhaled as a heavy silence fell over them.
He knew Toji was uncomfortable, it was all over the fidget of his fingers, the line of his scarred mouth.
Good, Megumi thought. Let him be uncomfortable.
Finally, Toji cleared his throat, his eyes trained on the students on the ground. "Well, your boy has talent too."
Megumi flushed despite himself, pulling his knees to his chest. "Stop calling him that."
Toji smirked, springing back into element. "So, he's Ryoumen Sukuna's vessel, huh? You've got strange taste."
"That's obviously not why I like him!" Megumi exclaimed indignantly and then realised what he'd said. His eyes widened. "I mean—not that I like—”
“Save it, kid,” Toji snickered. “You’re not fooling anyone. In fact,” he put up a finger and Megumi could see the metaphorical lightbulb over his head. “I’ve decided to help you.”
Megumi raised a bored eyebrow. "With what? You're literally dead."
Toji hummed contemplatively and a drop of dread curled in Megumi’s stomach.
"Please stop thinking. It's scaring me."
"Trust me, son. You won't regret this."
“Regret what?” Megumi hissed a little hysterically. "If this is you trying to make up for being a dick when I was little, I don't want—”
“Megumi~” came Gojo-sensei’s singsong voice and Toji’s mouth snapped shut, his eyes narrowing in irritation.
"Not this brat again,” he growled. “When I mentioned you to him, I didn't mean he should adopt you."
A sadistic part of Megumi considered telling him how much Tsumiki loved Gojo, about the mortifying incident when Megumi had accidentally called him ‘dad’ once, just to rile Toji up. He made a note to mention it next time his father bothered him.
His father, who looked disgusted now, was glaring daggers at Gojo-sensei who’d obliviously hopped up to Megumi and thrown himself on the ground to start talking nonsense, as usual.
Apparently, unable to stomach the obnoxious energy Gojo seemed to be exuding at all times, Toji disappeared in a huff and…fuck no.
Megumi barely suppressed a little scream of frustration as his father disintegrated into thin air without giving out any information on what he intended to ‘help’ Megumi with.
He had a very bad feeling about this.
“Yuuji is getting stronger,” Gojo-sensei commented, snapping Megumi out of his mild panic-induced reverie. “I saw him fighting you.”
Megumi felt his cheeks colour with shame and he hid his face between his arms. “He was always better at hand-to-hand combat.”
Gojo gave him one of his intense looks that communicated everything he wanted even through the blindfold. “No, but it’s more than that, isn’t it?”
Great, more interrogation. Megumi could not catch a damn break.
“I don’t know what you want me to say, sensei,” he said curtly. “I’m trying my best.”
Gojo chuckled, patting Megumi on the back. “You’re smart, Megumi. Think over it.”
Megumi rolled his eyes. “Stop pretending to be wise.”
“Who’s pretending?” Gojo grinned and heaved himself to his feet, pulling Megumi along with a hand on his collar. “Come on, up up up! You’re not done for the day yet.” He cupped both hands around his mouth and yelled, “Yuuji-kun! Megumi says he wants to train more with you!”
Megumi’s eyes widened as heat rushed to his face. “I’m going to kill you.”
The white-haired man-child cackled as if that was the funniest joke he’d ever heard and physically pushed Megumi towards a rapidly approaching Itadori.
Gojo Satoru was an excellent way to get rid of his father, if only Megumi could tolerate the man himself.