Chapter Text
Parenting was an enemy even the strongest struggled to conquer. Gojo, as cocky as he normally was, found that he lost most of the battles despite his best efforts. Tsumiki and Megumi had been with him for eight years and he was just as helpless with raising them as he had been the first day he took them home with him. It was always a losing battle and today was no different. The sound of his phone ringing caught his attention in the middle of his lecture. They school day wasn't halfway over by that point. His team hadn't gone to lunch yet, which meant they hadn't trained yet, and it seemed they wouldn't be training with him today at all. Gojo knew it was Megumi's school before he looked at the caller ID. He also knew that it was a fight before he accepted the call. It would be the fourth one this semester and school only started two months ago. Was he going for a new record? The teenager sat in the office with a bandage on his cheek, making Gojo raise a brow in surprise. Someone got a hit on him. That normally didn't happen. "Are you getting sloppy?" He asked as he entered the familiar room and took a seat next to Megumi. It was an attempt to amuse the boy, but the only reaction he got was a stare full of disdain. Nice. Megumi hated him and the principle scowled at him, not entertained by Gojo's lighthearted comment. A dull ache settled at the man's temple when Megumi's punishment was revealed. Suspended again. The next step would be expulsion. "I apologize for his behavior. Surely we can try and work something out to avoid him getting expelled." Gojo flushed as he apologized to the administrators who looked at him as critically as he looked at himself. It was visible in their eyes that they believed him to be a failure of a parent. It was the same look he gave himself when he looked into the mirror. He's a good kid, Gojo would say. I'm working with him, he would assure them. Megumi getting suspended wasn’t a rare event, but something about this time felt.. permanent. It felt too heavy. There was a finality to it, something about it inspiring the him to lay his weapon down. "Does Tsumiki know?" Gojo asked tiredly in the midst of trying to rub the pain out of his head with the tips of his fingers. Tsumiki was as easy as a child could be. Gentle, kind, always willing to help. Sometimes it felt like she parented him more than he parented her, which he was trying to resolve. The girl deserved to feel like a kid instead of the mother figure she was forced into being when their real parents deserted them. Gojo didn't have siblings, so he didn't have much to compare it to, but he still knew that Tsumiki was the best sibling someone could have asked for. Her love for her brother was unconditional and he knew she would eagerly give her last breath to Megumi. The girl would be devastated to hear that Megumi was in this position again. "Why the fuck would she need to know? This shit doesn't concern her." Megumi asked harshly. Megumi, on the other hand, was some sort of demonic karma for how difficult Gojo was as an adolescent. "Because she- Megumi, she cares about you." I do too. He’s tried everything. Gojo has tried everything to get through to the boy, but it never worked. Nothing took away the anger in those green eyes. Staying in the office and trying to come to a resolution was pointless, so he got up with a discouraged smile and excused them. "I apologize again." The drive home was silent. Usually, Gojo’s mind would run wild trying to think of how best to form a sentence with the most beautiful syntax that would finally make something click. The only thought present in his brain was an apology. I'm sorry. He was apologizing for whatever he failed to provide, whatever quality he lacked that was necessary to give Megumi a semblance of peace and happiness.
They hadn’t been home for long before they got into their assigned positions. Gojo would bring him to the couch and try to break through to him, and Megumi would sit and scowl. “Don’t waste your breath. I don’t care.” Megumi expressed dryly. There was an attempt at an uninterested tone in his voice, but Gojo knew the teenager was desperately waiting for ammunition to start a fight with. His arms were crossed as he sat on the far end of the couch, placing as much space in between them as possible. Megumi’s comment made Gojo smile sadly and the man let out a long sigh before he leaned back into the couch and kicked his feet up on the coffee table. He was only allowed to do that because Tsumiki was at school. Megumi should have been at school, but now he didn’t have to go back for an extended period of time. Now he wasn’t allowed to go back. Despite the amount of days Megumi spent in detention or at home instead of being in class, he was impressively smart. A real problem solver. It would make him a good sorcerer. Don’t waste my breath, huh? Gojo mused to himself. Maybe he was right. Maybe Megumi's intelligent brain had the answer Gojo had been searching for all of these years. Gojo clicked his tongue and glanced over at the boy for a moment before shrugging his shoulders. “I wasn’t going to say anything.” What was there to say? Megumi’s eyes narrowed at his benefactor. Bullshit. Satoru Gojo always had something to say. His guardian would go on endless talking points every time Megumi got in a fight. Pointless lectures that meant nothing to the teenager. It was a routine for them, a familiar song and dance. “Right. I’m supposed to believe that?” His words were unnecessarily hostile. They always were. It ate Gojo up inside because he had never done anything to deserve the constant aggression. Or had he? He’d given everything he had to offer to these kids, but he was finding it wasn’t enough. Tsumiki didn’t deserve the coldness she received from Megumi either, and Gojo found her treatment more upsetting than his own. Gojo didn’t know what he was lacking, but he knew Tsumiki wasn’t lacking anything. “I’m not going to waste either of our time, Megs.” It didn’t matter what angle Gojo tried to attack his child’s misbehavior. Years of creative discipline gave no reward and in all honesty, Gojo was lost. He was lost and he was tired. Megumi eyed him suspiciously, trying to identify the man’s game plan, not knowing that there was no game plan. The adult placed his hands behind his head and stared forward at the powerless TV. He was a kid himself when he picked up Megumi, so he didn’t know shit about what to expect, but he always figured they’d relax on the couch together and watch Pokemon or something. It never happened. Even as a kindergartener, Gojo was never able to get him to attach to him in any way. This was the only time they ever sat on the couch together. The TV was always off and Gojo was always hopeless. “You’re suspended for ten days.” Gojo hummed out and started to flick his thumb against the edge of his blindfold. “I won’t make you go back if you don’t want to. You can go back if you want. That’s fine too.” There was no trick up his sleeve. This wasn’t some well planned manipulation attempt. Gojo simply accepted that he couldn’t tell Megumi what to do. Well, he could, but he wouldn’t be listened to. Megumi’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second, his head turning Gojo’s way faster than he wanted it to in his shock. A sudden thrum of something uncomfortable started to take root in his chest, but he scoffed it away with an eye roll. There was nothing to be anxious about, this was just another one of Gojo’s stupid attempts to set him on the right path. “You’re full of shit.” It didn’t matter how far Megumi pushed the limits, Gojo never gave up. He couldn’t rationalize why the adult was so dedicated or why he cared so much, he just knew that he cared. It pissed him off. Satoru Gojo showed up one day and took them under his wing. The white haired man jumped into his role immediately. He didn’t simply provide food and a roof. He wasn’t some distant teenager that didn’t give them attention because he was busy being a teenager. He was present. He acted like he had been raising them from the beginning. It delighted Tsumiki. It disgusted Megumi. “I think I’m going to have Shoko come over for dinner tonight.” Gojo mumbled to himself before getting to his feet and stretching his arms out over his head. The change of subject made Megumi sit up a little straighter, a harsh thump in his chest. The feeling of control and stability were starting to slip, so he opened his mouth to take back ownership, but Gojo kept talking. “I’ll talk to Tsumiki about you not going back to school. She won’t be happy about it, but maybe I can take the brunt of it. I’ll try to get her to lay off of you.” He probably would take the brunt. White lashes fluttered against his cheeks as he envisioned the scene that would unfold. The girl would be upset with Megumi to be sure, but she would have the most to say to Gojo. He was the adult in the situation and he was rewarding bad behavior. “You think I can convince Shoko to cook for us? ..Eh. Not a good idea. Work’s been rough. I’ll just order something. Got anything in mind?” Megumi’s mouth was slightly agape as realization hit him. Gojo wasn’t joking. He wasn’t even focusing on it anymore, instead he was discussing dinner as if he didn’t just give Megumi permission to practically drop out. As if he didn’t just wipe his hands of him and release him from his guidance. The nerves built and Megumi couldn’t identify why his body was feeling upset over this. His hands wanted to tremble. “You’re asking me what I want for dinner?” He asked in disbelief with furrowed brows. He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and stared at the taller man with a frown, his eyes angry and stormy. The feeling of his throat constricting made him uncomfortable and he clenched his jaw. “You’re not going to try to convince me to improve my behavior? Or scold me and tell me that I need to get my act together when I go back?” He sounded upset and that made Gojo chuckle quietly. He got mad when he got scolded and he got mad when he got a pass to do whatever he wanted. There was no winning with him. Gojo placed his hands on his hips and looked up towards the ceiling with a heavy breath. “Why would I? It won’t change anything. It feels smarter to save the energy.”
Megumi’s heart squeezed with panic when he caught a glimpse at what was happening. Was Gojo was giving up? Was Gojo giving up on him? This is what he’s wanted for so long, but there was no relief or pleasure at the realization. Instead, he felt like he could throw up. A bitter laugh left his lips. “That’s it? You’re not going to try anymore?” His fists were clenching and relaxing rhythmically in time with his breathing. Seeing his guardian nod felt like getting ice water dumped on top of him. "What?" His face paled. “Megumi.” His name was said softly. Warm, but defeated. “I don’t know what to do anymore. I don’t know what to try. There’s nothing left for me to say. It just makes you angrier. I’ve been trying to relieve that anger since you were six, but I only make it worse.” His fingers slipped his blindfold off of his eyes to allow him more freedom to ruffle his hair in a stress response, a pitiful attempt at self soothing. A frown decorated the man’s face and Megumi couldn’t remember Gojo ever looking so tired.. Had Megumi ever really looked intentionally? How long had he looked like that? “It’s been unfair to your sister. She’s a kid too. She needs someone watching over her and investing in her, too. I think I’ve been pushing her needs aside and making you the focus for both of us.” It wasn’t rare that Gojo would talk about Megumi’s actions with his sister and try to involve her in coming up with the solution. She was always willing to help, but it wasn’t her job. “She’s a good kid. She’d never admit to wanting anything and I took advantage of that. You don’t want my input. I get it, I hear you, so I won’t bother you anymore." I’m tired of making you miserable, Gojo thought to himself. All he’s ever wanted was to get the hint of a smile on Megumi’s face. Blue eyes glanced down at the screen of his phone and looked at the time. The school day was almost over. Tsumiki always had a ride home due to her plentiful amount of friends, but maybe Gojo would start picking her up when he could. They could go grab a treat every now and then. “So- So that’s it? You’re done? You’re going to “invest” in Tsumiki now? You’re just done?” Gojo took a few beats before responding. He pulled up Shoko’s contact on his phone and twisted his heel into the plush rug under his foot. Hearing it said like that made his throat tight, but if Megumi didn’t want him, then he wouldn’t force it any longer. If his distance was what was needed to make Megumi happy, then he would make that sacrifice. Shoko wouldn’t have much to say to comfort him, but she would let him lay his head in her lap and she’d play with his hair. She was much softer than she let on.
He was much weaker than he let himself be perceived.
“..Yeah. I guess you’re right. I guess I’m done.”
Megumi couldn’t remember much of his life prior to the entrance of Satoru Gojo. When he thought about his dad, he saw a tall man with a broad frame, but his dad’s face was blurry and unrecognizable to him. He couldn’t remember events, rather he remembered sensations that his small body knew years ago. Sometimes he recalled the pang of hunger in his stomach from the lack of adults supplying meals. Other times, he could remember the stickiness of his hair plastered to his neck in the middle of summer in a house that had no air conditioning because no one paid the bills. His first memories stemmed from Gojo’s presence. Some were fuzzy, but he could remember with clarity that there was anger. It might have been present prior to Gojo, but it blossomed and evolved once there was someone to take care of him. He couldn’t rationalize why finally having someone to rely on made him so furious. The fury never left. It was a persistent rage that was bigger than his body no matter how much he grew over the years. It was always a foot taller than him. It would loom over his frame and block the sunlight, leaving him under a constant shadow. It was his most familiar emotion- most of the time, it was his only emotion. Megumi didn’t know life without anger. That’s why he was frozen on the couch. That’s why he wasn’t breathing. That’s why his throat was burning with bile. I guess I'm done. Those words stripped his comfort away, a comfort he wasn’t aware he had. Anger dissipated instantly and its place was taken by a devastation he had never felt before, one he couldn’t describe adequately with words. It was a succinct, crushing sensation of betrayal, a betrayal far more excruciating than his biological father’s absence. Suddenly, he realized how desperately he clung onto his guardian’s overbearing protection of him. His endless concern, his consistent advocating for him, his- his care. His genuine care for Megumi. His belief that Megumi could be someone different than who he was now if he had a little bit of guidance.. and now Megumi watched Gojo bring his phone to his ear and exit the living room, offering an invitation to Shoko to come over like he hadn’t just shattered everything Megumi knew.
“Gojo, wait.”
He breathed it out more than he spoke it. The volume was almost too quiet for him to hear himself. He heard the door of Gojo’s bedroom close and he was left alone on the couch in the living room. The silence made his skin crawl. Gojo’s insistent, loud chatter wasn’t filling the house. He wasn’t lingering in the room while Megumi sat scrolling silently through his phone, working up the courage to ask the boy how his day was or make attempts to bond, attempts that always failed. Attempts that were always met with Megumi’s aggression and blatant disregard for him.
He sat, unmoving and pathetic, on the couch for thirty-two minutes. He kept track. Megumi wanted to know how many minutes it would take Gojo to come back. Because he was going to come back, right? This had to be one of his creative ideas to discipline Megumi.
But over half an hour later, he heard nothing from the direction of Gojo’s room, and he realized in a cold horror that he wasn’t coming for him.
He remember another sensation. It was the feeling of the wind ruffing his hair and the feeling of an unstable plastic chair underneath him. It was the memory of the first few weeks after his dad left. Megumi would wait outside by the door, watching and waiting for his dad to come around the corner. He never came.
No one was coming for him.
"I heard you've been beating more kids up." Megumi smelled Shoko before she verbally announced her presence. A thick fog of cigarette smoke followed her wherever she went and he wasn't sure how her voice sounded as smooth and soft as it did after all of these years of smoking. It was difficult to get a read on her. Even now, her words sounded entertained and disapproving. She also sounded like she couldn't give a fuck about it either. "You've got your old man all upset, you know?" Gojo hadn't come out of the room to check on Megumi because he was on the phone with Shoko, unable to maintain his composure and dry his tears at the situation. Something snapped in Megumi and he slammed his fist down against the middle of the coffee table. It shattered the glass, but Shoko didn't jump or startle. She didn't blink in any reaction. "He's not my fucking dad!" Megumi's voice echoed, but any attempts at intimidation fell flat with the doctor. Shoko took a drag of her cigarette and glanced down at the boy's bleeding fist. She didn't offer to heal it. It would probably do him better to feel the pain, that way he couldn't ignore the situation. He'd have to address his emotions to some level if his hand stung in a reminder of his distress. "I know that," Shoko responded cooly. Gojo was in the room the second he heard the glass shatter, but he stood in the corner. Shoko could take care of herself. She didn't need him to rescue her from an emotionally fucked teenager. He also didn't believe that he could say anything that wouldn't make the situation worse. "Do you know that he's not your dad, Megumi?" The brunette ask and pushed pieces of glass around with her heel. Her eyes were sharp, but she somehow maintained a distant look while speaking with him about the intimate subject. "You want to know what I think? I think sometimes you forget he's not your dad, and I think you get angry when you realize he's not. I think you're all fucked in the head because you can't understand how your own father didn't love you, but this dumbass strolls up to you one day and treats you like a son. There's where the issues lies, correct? You don't know how to be loved as a son. It's even why you're cruel to Tsumiki because she was the closest thing to a mother you got, and Megumi doesn't know how to be loved by a mom or a dad. So, here we are." His fist swung right at her face. He was unraveling and her words only sped up process. Shoko didn't flinch. Firstly, she would've simply healed herself, and that was only if she allowed him to hit her. Shoko easily would have caught his fist in her hand, but she didn't have to. The strands of her hair blew in the wind that Gojo created when he materialized in front of her and guarded her from the impact. Megumi's arm was twisted and pinned behind his back in a moment's notice. He struggled against the hold, deluding himself into believing he could break free if he tried hard enough. "This is who you want to be?" Shoko asked, watching the teenager snarl and gnash his teeth. "You were given a second chance and this is how you're using it? It's embarrassing to watch." Gojo was split, hissing Megumi and Shoko's names in warnings, trying to get both of them to behave and not make the situation worse. Shoko's parenting style was wildly different. It was clear that she cared about the kids, but she didn't take nearly as much shit at her friend did, and her approach was more hardcore and rooted in brutal reality. "Let me go!" Megumi growled and tried to yank himself out of Gojo's grip. "Fuck you-! Fuck both of you! You can go to hell!" The strain his yelling put on his voice made it crack. It was in the moment that his voice broke off and went silent that they heard the smallest, heartbreaking utterance of his name. Tsumiki, halfway through the front door, coming into pure chaos. Gojo was restraining a bleeding, cursing Megumi. Shoko stood right in Megumi's face, crushing shards of glass with her shoes.
"M-Megumi..What?" She whispered and brought her fingertips to her lips. Her sweet brown eyes welled with tears. The sound of her quiet whimper made Megumi's cruel and narrow eyes snap in her direction.
"I hate you. I fucking hate every one of you." Megumi seethed. He locked eye contact with his sister and lowered his tone. "Especially you."