Chapter Text
One
They’re quiet more than they talk, Toji and he. Sometimes, Megumi feels like they’re just two sleeping bodies in a moving car, each in his own dreams and occasionally talking in their sleep. The songs on the radio drape over them like blankets.
His dad drinks apple soda pop in liters by the time it takes them to reach Tokyo, cans clink-clacking at the floor by Megumi’s feet. Megumi savors his sour candies and measures himself to one after every stop they make. They feel precious to him; something to be kept and cherished, saved in the folds of his hoodie.
He surrenders a few more lemon-flavored ones to Toji and doesn’t count them.
When they reach the city limits, the sky darkens, overcast with upcoming night and rain, and Toji tsks , peering up through the windshield as he drives. “Fucking typical,” he mutters and doesn’t comment on it anymore.
Megumi, who has spent a majority of his childhood in the sprawling property of wooden engawa verandas and overpowering greenery, stares- almost slack-jawed- at the towering buildings of gleaming glass and concrete. From down here, Tokyo seems huge and untouchable.
His dad makes a noise that’s halfway between a snort and a choke, saying, “Guess you were too young to remember this, huh?”
Megumi turns away from the window to look at him. “We drove through here?”
Toji rubs his palm against his cheek. “Probably, we drove ‘round lots of places, you know?”
Megumi nods. That, at least, he remembers.
Toji hums, then wrinkles his nose at the rain falling outside, soft little plink plink plink noises as the drops land against the car.
Megumi’s body moves forward with momentum when his dad brakes as they near a red light.
Baby steps. Both of them.
✻✻✻✻✻
Two
Kugisaki dabs away the blood from her cut in front of a side mirror of a small silver car parked on the street before the three of them enter a diner advertising free juice with every order of coffee. Itadori and he share a bench and Kugisaki sits across from them, still observing them with contemplation.
Itadori slaps his palms against the tabletop in enthusiasm when the waitress comes to take their orders, eyeing them warily behind a bored facade and thick mascara as she takes in their rumpled state. Kugisaki orders omuraisu, Itadori a bowl of ramen, and Megumi miso soup. Kugisaki and Megumi order coffee and Itadori takes Megumi’s juice. They still need to save where they can and Megumi is more of a water kinda guy anyway.
Kugisaki asks for honey, then dumps whole two packages in her cup. Itadori watches her in curious fascination, Megumi in utter disgust.
“You guys are heading for Tokyo, right?” She asks them, stirring a spoon through the atrocity of her beverage.
“Oh!” Itadori starts, eyes flitting over to Megumi. “We’re-”
“No,” Megumi cuts him off before he digs them a hole they won’t be able to get out of.
Kugisaki squints at him. “No?”
Megumi takes a spoonful of his soup.
She has an expressive face, Megumi notes. Like Itadori, only he would probably never be caught frowning at someone like she currently is.
“Aren’t you guys jujutsu students? I mean…” she trails off, gesturing with her hand in a way Megumi assumes is supposed to reference what happened barely half an hour ago.
Megumi chews. The soup is good, but he could use some ginger. “No.”
Kugisaki scowls. “Do you know any other word except no ?”
“Sure. It’s none of your business.”
Itadori chokes on his ramen. A noodle hangs from his mouth as he watches the two of them.
Before her yell of outrage could attract attention, Megumi says, “In any case, we’re not going to Tokyo.”
Her eyes practically bulge out of their sockets. Her hands curl into fists at either side of her coffee cup. “God, you’re pissing me off,” she grits out quietly through her teeth, closing her eyes in an attempt to compose herself.
Megumi can’t really fault her for it, he tends to have that effect on people. He waits her out.
Her shoulders slump and she braces her forehead on her fist. “Ugh,” she groans, begrudgingly admitting, “you did totally save my ass back there.”
Megumi shrugs because, really, he didn’t do anything. “That was all Itadori.”
His chest still aches, something deep and dull, and he presses his fingertips to his sternum.
“I mean, you were pretty badass too-” Itadori starts at her.
Kugisaki rolls her eyes. “ I know. But I would’ve been pancaked in that rubble if you guys didn’t pull me out.”
In the end, she looks severely displeased as she says, “So, really, I guess I owe you two.”
“You don’t owe us anything,” Megumi is quick to tell her. “What were we supposed to do? Leave you?”
Even though given that was something Itadori wanted, Megumi would’ve been fine with it. But still, her thinking she’s somehow indebted to them could only cause them potential problems.
“I would if I were you,” she responds steadily. Her eyes hold his and Megumi wonders if she can tell, if she knows that she’s here just because of Itadori. Itadori is Megumi’s responsibility, Kugisaki is not.
“This got dark real fast,” Itadori comments, not quiet enough to go unnoticed, and it breaks the tension.
Whatever opinion Kugisaki has on them, she keeps it to herself and eats her food. Eventually, though, her eyes start lingering on them. Megumi wonders just how good of a sensor she is; not in a way that could be too useful, sure, because if she was, she’d see through Megumi the moment they met. But she can obviously sense the energy Itadori is emitting.
“You,” she says, jerking her chin at Itadori,” are pretty strong. Why not go to Tokyo?”
Itadori, caught like a deer in headlights, says, “Uh. Um.”
They are doomed.
“We’ve got something more important to do,” Megumi says in his name.
Kugisaki arches a neat eyebrow, contempt in her gaze. “And what would that be? I mean, sure, I can’t even feel you, but he’s at least Grade 2 right now.”
Grade 2, huh. Good to know.
If she thinks she somehow insulted him by that, Megumi’s got another thing coming for her. “Again, it’s none of your business.”
A vein in her temple pops and her eyes narrow so much that Megumi genuinely wonders if she can even see them.
And then at once, her expression clears into startling cheerfulness.
“Well,” she says with a grin, “good thing I packed for everything.”
Megumi blinks.
No. Absolutely not.
“You’re not going with us.”
Smugly, Kugisaki leans back into her seat like she owns this place. “Oh, I am. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me, hedgehog hair boy.”
Megumi stares at her.
“Excuse us,” he says and yanks Itadori to the restroom. The skin of his wrist is warm to the touch, soft beneath Megumi’s fingers. Their sneakers squeak against the floor and then slide, friction smoother on the tiles once the door swings shut behind them.
“We have to get rid of her,” he tells Itadori, who has started nodding before Megumi even finished the sentence. “She can’t come with us.”
“Yeah,” Itadori agrees with determination. Then, sheepishly, he scratches his cheek. “Uh. How will we get her to leave?”
Megumi leans back against the row of sinks. The movement tugs at his hand and, belatedly, he realizes he’s still holding Itadori’s wrist. He lets go, clearing his throat before he sighs.
His eyes fall to the window at the far wall and he allows himself a moment to contemplate the irony of doing this again before saying, “We go out the window. She’ll have to come to look for us after some time and when she realizes we’re gone, she’ll leave. Then we can go back for our stuff.”
All the while, Itadori keeps nodding in agreement, then goes over to open the window. It creaks as it opens and fresh air rushes into their faces.
Itadori turns to him. The overhead lights cast a yellowish sort of light over them, saturating Itadori’s pink hair and bouncing off his cheekbones and the arch of his eyebrows. “Just so you know,” he starts sincerely, “I think your hair is pretty cool, Fushiguro.”
Megumi coughs into his shoulder, his face warm, and nudges him in the back. “Get going and shut up.”
Itadori, grinning, wedges himself through the window and Megumi, with a single glance behind him and a flash of his flushed cheeks in the mirrors, scowls and follows after him.
✻✻✻✻✻
One
Their first real stop in Tokyo is an American-style diner. The radio plays some song in English, the lyrics that Megumi can’t understand, words rushed and jumbled with the instruments.
The seats squeak when they sit down at the table near the wall. The menus are encased in clear plastic, scratched and peeling at the corners and Megumi picks at one of them until he catches Toji looking at him with amusement.
“Ain’t it a bit early for property damage?”
Megumi flushes, “I wasn’t doing that!”
Toji snorts. “Oh, I must have seen wrong then.”
Megumi glowers and ignores the smug grin on Toji’s face until the waitress comes to take their order. Then, for the next two minutes resolutely stares at the posters on the walls while she bats her eyelashes at Toji, laughing obnoxiously and leaning in too close. When she leaves, his pleasant smile falls away and he turns to Megumi to tell him, “Be nice to the waiters before they bring your food. They can and will fucking spit into it.”
Megumi wrinkles his face in disgust. “I don’t think they would do that.”
“Eh,” Toji shrugs. “I would.”
Megumi is coming to realize that his dad is something of an asshole.
“Not everyone’s like you,” he tells him without any real heat. It’s not like Megumi is all rainbows and flowers either.
His dad tilts his head to the side and says, “Don’t I know that.”
When their burgers arrive, Toji bites into his with gusto. Megumi chews on his own more slowly, taking smaller bites and eating fries in between.
“Not a fan?” His dad asks after a while. He’s already halfway done.
Megumi picks a fry and bites it in half. “Not really.” Then, because he doesn’t know, asks, “You are?”
Toji takes a long time to swallow. When he does, he adjusts his grip and admits, “I’m sick of Japanese food.”
It’s a strange sort of honesty. Sad and miserable in its admission.
Megumi eats another fry. He likes them better than the burger itself and washes down the saltiness with his Coke.
Across the table, Toji finishes his burger and his fingers, pale and bare, touch his serving of fries and slide it towards Megumi.
While he eats, he watches those fingers drum a beat on the tabletop, in sync with the song on the radio. It’s crooning “ Ooh, I've been wandering 'round, still come back to you, ” while his dad looks at the grease stains on his plate with a vacant look. Megumi doesn’t know where he goes when he’s like that, but the lines of his eyes cut into the type of devastation Megumi could plunge his hands into.
The rain is still beating down hard when they leave the diner, so when they get into their motel room, they’re both at least mildly soaked through. Toji ushers him to use the bathroom first, like Megumi will get sick and die right there if he doesn’t get out of his wet clothes and gets warm immediately. By the time Toji is done, Megumi is already under the covers, not sleeping but not indicating that he’s awake either. He listens as his dad gets into bed.
Then, through the darkness, “Go to sleep. We’re going sightseeing tomorrow.”
✻✻✻✻✻
Two
Huddled behind the corner on the street, they watch as Kugisaki exits the diner with a huff. She stops at the entrance, checking her phone, and then stomps down the sidewalk roughly ten minutes after their window escape.
Megumi breathes out quietly through his nose, the night’s chill cooling his skin. Gently, he nudges his elbow against Itadori’s side and says, “Come on.”
“Ah, I wonder if she’ll be okay,” Itadori says as they walk, hands in the pockets of his hoodie. “I hope she didn’t feel hurt that we ditched her.”
“She’d just get in our way,” Megumi tells him. It’s not like they could tell her the truth and it would be way too much work trying to get anything done without her knowledge.
For a moment, they’re both quiet. Megumi’s sneakers make little noise as the soles connect with the ground and he resists the urge to scruff his toes against the pavement. Then, Itadori scratches his cheek in thought, fingertips tracing the scar beneath his eye, and asks, “Do you not like her because she’s a jujutsu student?”
Megumi doesn’t stumble in his steps, but it’s a near thing. He frowns.
“It’s not that I don’t like her,” he says for a start. “I don’t feel any particular way about her, really. It’s just that…I don’t trust her.”
Itadori nods like it makes complete sense and opens the diner’s door for Megumi. “You’re not a very trusting person, after all.”
Megumi bristles, flushing, and stomps over the threshold. “Don’t say it like it’s a bad thing!”
“I’m not!” Itadori protests. “Just, would it really be that bad to let someone else help us? We don’t have to do this alone, right?”
Megumi gets it. He does. “It’s not about letting someone help us – not just about it. It’s about trusting them not to betray us and Kugisaki is noisy. We don’t know her.” She is a jujutsu student and Megumi has been burned by that community enough for a lifetime.
The waitress is behind the counter now, watching them with judgment and a raised eyebrow. “Your friend paid for your meals, if you’re wondering,” she informs them.
Itadori has the mind to hunch up his shoulders in guilt, but Megumi just hoists his backpack over his shoulder and grabs his duffle before tossing a half-hearted thanks to her on their way out.
He’s just stepped onto the street, Itadori hot on his heels and running into his back when Megumi freezes at the sight of the figure leaning idly against the lamp-post in front of them. The grip on his duffle tightens.
Kugisaki grins, shadows over her face, and says, “You’re not getting rid of me so easily, boys.”
✻✻✻✻✻
0ne
Toji wakes him up before dawn. The sky is a mottled bruise of pale blues and oranges, pink creeping along the horizon. There’s chilly dampness clinging to the air in the aftermath of the rain and Megumi nestles into the fold of his black hoodie, following Toji across the puddled parking lot.
He’s never the one to remember his dreams – except that he’s always strangely empty and feeling starved – and today is no different. His dad stomps to the car, shoulders straight in determination, and waits patiently by the door while Megumi drags his body through the morning mist, half-conscious and thoroughly unamused by being awake at this hour.
In the car, Megumi sleeps and observes his dad in bleached sunlight. Toji didn’t toss and turn, or talk in his sleep, but sometime after the shadows around the room grew thick and heavy, he let out a sigh so weighted with the longing that it could’ve broken a camel’s back.
“Not the morning type?” Toji asks curiously when Megumi’s jaw pops on a yawn. His eyes are warm with sleep and hungry for the information.
Megumi feels like there’s another shoe that needs to drop, and still says, “Ngh – No.”
Toji snorts, shifting gears, and their heads bob once as the engine rumbles. Now he knows Megumi drinks his coffee black, doesn’t like fast food, and isn’t a morning person.
Megumi swallows, throat clicking, and asks, “And you?”
“Hm?” His dad hums, glancing at him just for a moment.
Megumi glowers at nothing in particular (Toji seems to find it amusing anyway) and forces a full question out of his mouth. “Are you a morning person?”
“Uh,” his dad says eloquently, taking a turn and then putting a finger to his cheek in thought. “I don’t mind it either way.”
“Ugh. Morning person, then,” Megumi concludes for himself.
His dad makes a strange amused sound that might be a laugh or a snort and says, “I like sleeping in, though.”
Megumi fixes him with a severe look. “Those two are not the same.” When Toji arches his brow at the road in question, Megumi elaborates. “Sleeping in is when Maki takes pity on me and doesn’t wake me up at 5 am. Not being a morning person is being absolutely disgusted to be awake before 9 am. At least.”
“Nine?! That’s sleeping off half of your morning!” Toji exclaims incredulously. “You can get so much done by then.”
Megumi sincerely doubts it. “Like what?”
“Working out, reading-”
“I can read in the afternoon.”
His dad rolls his eyes. “Yeah, but then you could do something else in the afternoon instead.
Megumi frowns. He can’t blame his dad for not knowing. He knows that. Toji is taking on missions or assisting in the school almost 24/7. He doesn’t know that Megumi is utterly, absolutely miserable as soon as the Sun peeks its head over the horizon, that he doesn’t have the luxury or time to do something else in the afternoon. And he also knows that, even if he told Toji, it would only make them both miserable. Because there has to be a reason why Toji brought them back. If Megumi pulled back the curtains on this new life they have, where would they go?
Instead of chasing that thread of thought, he says, “I guess,” and slumps against the door.
After a beat, Toji asks, “Why does Maki wake you up at 5 am?”
With truth on the tip of his tongue – Maki is so strong and she’s going to do something great – he says, “To hang out.”
“Huh,” his dad mutters, thumbnail digging into the fingertips of fingers wrapped around the steering wheel. And that is that.
✻✻✻✻✻
Two
They don’t find a room for the night. Mainly on the account of them all being underage, the fact that they should not be spending any more money than necessary, and Megumi’s unwillingness to find out just how well-acquainted Kugisaki is with the jujutsu world by using his full name. And just his general unwillingness to use his full name.
Itadori doesn’t seem bothered in the least, still fresh as a daisy despite their brush with that curse earlier. Megumi doesn’t know where he gets the energy, but he envies and hates him for it because his eyes are starting to strain and even Kugisaki’s glare is turning more genuine with every moment.
“Gah,” she grumbles, “I need more caffeine.”
“Go buy some,” Megumi says with a simple shrug.
She sniggers. “And give you a chance to ditch me again? Yeah, right. ”
Megumi just rolls his eyes. “Suit yourself.”
They’ve missed the last bus and so there’s no way they could run anyway. But whatever.
A few steps ahead of them, Itadori thumps down the sidewalk with a spring in his step.
Kugisaki narrows her eyes at him and lets out a low, “Ugh.”
Megumi kicks a pebble.
Now that they have her with them, things will get infinitely more difficult. If Itadori’s – or, well, Sukuna’s – cursed energy amounts to a second grade now, it’s only logical to think that the more fingers they find and more fingers Itadori (accidentally or not) eats, the more that energy will grow.
He presses a hang against his breastbone. The hollow ache seems to be digging a tunnel in his marrow.
If Megumi understands correctly, the gap in power levels between second and first grade is big. They’re somewhat lucky so far, because most graduated sorcerers that are still alive are second grade, so there’s a chance of Itadori getting lost in the sea of all that energy. But as the time goes on and he gets stronger, the easier it will be to detect him. Especially with Kugisaki in the tow now and adding to their signal.
“You’re gonna have horrible wrinkles if you keep that up,” Kugisaki informs him suddenly, peering at his face. Megumi frowns harder just to spite her.
She tsks at him and swiftly turns her head away. “Whatever, you’re gonna remember me when you’re all old and wrinkled-up.”
“Sure.” But before that, he has to get them out of this mess.
Kugisaki makes a displeased noise in the back of her throat at his easy dismissal. In the yellowing streetlights, the bruise on her face is starting to swell.
At the next vending machine, Megumi takes out a cool can of Coke and shoves it at her.
“Huh?” She asks, staring at him dumbly.
“For your face,” Megumi explains, flat as a floorboard.
Her pretty face twists, perfect eyebrows pinching together. “I don’t want it.”
Megumi, aching and tired, thrusts it at her again. “I spent money on it. Take it.”
“No. You drink it.”
“I don’t like Coke,” Megumi lies blatantly.
Apparently, their fuss reaches Itadori and he bounds up to them, none the wiser to the tension between them.
“Hey, what’s the – Oh! Coke!”
Immediately, Kugisaki turns Megumi towards him and says, “There, it’s for you. Drink it.”
“No,” Megumi says and turns to her again, ignoring Itadori’s lost look. “It’s for your bruise.”
“It’s already swollen up, what good is it gonna do now?”
There’s a small noise from Itadori and they both turn to find him grinning at them like a dope, cheeks rounded and eyes crinkling at the corners. It’s more charming than it should be.
Finally in the center of attention, he says, “It’s nice that you’re getting along after all!”
Megumi chokes on his spit and Kugisaki gives an outraged, indignant shout and rips the can out of his hand with enough force that Megumi thought that she will take his hand along with it.
She stomps past the both of them and then seems to change her mind, pointing a finger in their direction.
“Both of you! In the front!” She barks. “I’m not letting you out of my sight.”
Itadori gives him a glance and a shrug and complies.
When Megumi passes her, he says, somewhat smugly, “There’s your caffeine too.”
The can clomps him square in the back of the head. Megumi, determined to deprive her of satisfaction, ignores the tears stinging his eyes, the pain stinging his head, and Itadori’s startled shout and questions if he’s alright.
“Don’t worry about him,” Kugisaki comments. “His head is pretty dense.”
Megumi doesn’t dignify that with a response. The next time he looks over his shoulder, Kugisaki has a glum expression on her face and the can pressed to her cheek.
✻✻✻✻✻
One
In all honesty, Megumi doesn’t recognize the place until he sees the sign.
The river winds through the terrain as far as Megumi can see, the dawning Sun reflected on its surface. Toji leads them down the paved walkway, the cherry tree branches awning above them as the last few petals drift along with the current. They missed the Cherry Blossoms season by a few days. His dad doesn’t seem to mind in any way, hands stuffed into the pockets of his grey zippered hoodie.
Among the sparse passers, he looks astonishingly young, which is something that Megumi just doesn’t know how to take. His dad is young. Sometimes, Megumi looks at him and feels so disconnected from this man who left his whole family and wealth and status for freedom, only to come back half a decade later, widowed and with a child on his hip.
A useless child at that.
But anyway, Megumi doesn’t know what they’re doing here. He never took Toji as a sightseeing type.
“We took you here,” Toji says as the group of people around them disperses.
Megumi blinks up at him. “What?”
Toji has his eyes on the water. “Before your mom got bad again,” he explains hollowly.
“Oh,” Megumi says for the lack of anything better. He misses his mom, but in that foreign way where he doesn’t really know what he misses.
He wants to ask something – anything – but the words stick to the roof of his mouth like caramel candy.
He settles on, “So you lived in Tokyo even before she died?” The last word comes out half a tone quieter than the rest of his question. He’s never sure how to address his mom in the past tense in front of his dad. Toji never talks about her, and if he does, it’s in the same two phrases – before she got bad and after .
Megumi doesn’t know what to expect, but his dad doesn’t throw a tantrum or dissolve in tears. His eyes find Megumi’s, the same shade of green but infinitely duller, and then turn up to stare at the sky.
“That’s where I stayed.”
They walk the rest of the way in silence.
✻✻✻✻✻
Two
Megumi is one bad thing away from sleeping on the bench when Itadori hustles up to him, shoulder to shoulder, and leans in to whisper, “What are we gonna do about her?”
“Kill her in her sleep and dump her in a ditch,” Megumi deadpans, the back of his head throbbing.
Itadori blinks at him, startled, before cracking a grin and saying, “You’re a funny guy, Fushiguro.”
“Dead serious,” Megumi responds, the wind cooling his warmed-up cheeks, and turns his head to the side.
Itadori bumps their shoulders, chortling, and takes a step away.
Kugisaki is dragging her feet and they wait for her at the next crossing, missing their green light. They could cross over any time, as the streets are all deserted at this time, but they don’t.
Megumi leans against the traffic light pole and tells her, “I knew we should’ve left you behind, you’re just slowing us down.”
Kugisaki lifts the can in a warning and then smiles, saccharine sweet and disconcerting. “If you two lover boys need some time alone, you only have to ask.”
“What?” Megumi asks without any intonation, but Itadori makes up for it with a high-pitched squawk.
Kugisaki looks them over and wordlessly arches one of her eyebrows.
“Uh,” Itadori croaks, cherry red and clueless.
She lifts the second eyebrow as well, flicks her eyes to Megumi and, to his absolute delight, utters a single, “Oh my god.” She regrets being so insistent on tagging along.
✻✻✻✻✻
One
During the drive after their walk along the Meguro River, Toji suddenly asks him, “You said you don’t have a driving license – that mean you can’t drive?”
“Uh,” Megumi starts, taken aback. “Yeah. Why?”
“Hm,” his dad says and drags a hand down his cheek. “Just a thought.”
“What thought?”
His dad shrugs. If they were on better terms – or better said, closer – Megumi might have let out a whiny “ Dad. ” But as it is, he turns his head to the window and props his chin to his palm with a huff. Whatever. He doesn’t have to tell him.
Still, that doesn’t last and Megumi is the one to break the silence.
“Where would I learn to drive anyway?”
Toji shrugs. “Dunno. Thought someone taught you while I was working.” He says ‘ working ’ the same way one would say ‘ gone ’ and ‘ someone ’ the same way one would say ‘ an imposter ’ or ‘ a traitor ’.
Megumi slouches into his seat and into his clothes and says, “They didn’t.”
When he looks over, he finds Toji looking at the road and gnawing at the corner of his mouth where the scar cuts through his skin. Instead of a verbal response, he only hums and starts fiddling with the radio again.
When a song comes on, the tapping of his fingers on the steering wheel doesn’t match the rhythm.
✻✻✻✻✻
Two
In the morning, they board the first bus for Ichinoseki.
“What’s in Ichinoseki?” Kugisaki asks, leaning over the backrest of his seat to speak into his ear. She and Itadori are sitting together and Megumi claimed a seat of his own in hopes of getting some rest during the ride. Though he has a feeling that’s not going to happen.
“Nothing,” Megumi tells her.
“Then why are we going there?”
“Just so.”
Itadori and he didn’t really have an opportunity to discuss a change of plans, so Megumi supposes that Morioka is still the end goal for them. But he hopes that having more pit stops along the way might help them get rid of Kugisaki. If they’re lucky, she’s gonna get stuck in a crowd in one of the stations and they’ll slip out of her grasp. So long, hammer girl.
Of course, that’s just a distant dream for Megumi for now. First, he needs to get some sleep.
He hears Kugisaki drop down into her seat and ask Itadori, “Is he always like this?”
“Uh,” comes Itadori’s startled response. “Yes?”
“Damn. He knows it’s not going to kill him to brighten up, right?”
“Erm…”
Megumi doesn’t want to brighten up. He’s tired. He’s angry. His chest hurts.
All around him, cursed energy seeps through the matter like smoke, the tendrils of it drifting to the ground. Kugisaki and Itadori emit smaller amounts of it, but it’s still there in the back of his throat like a thin layer of soot. It’s weird being familiar with something, but still knowing it’s not the same as other people experience it.
From what Megumi has gathered, a sorcerer’s cursed energy has a feel, not a taste. Maki has no cursed energy at all, and she’s almost undetectable to him. With her, Megumi’s palate is clean.
He slouches into his seat, bracing his knees against the backrest in front of him, and crosses his arms over his stomach. He dreams of starvation.
✻✻✻✻✻
Two
The morning is damp when Yu arrives to Osaki. Everything is bathed in faded pastels that make even concrete look soft. The clouds are drifting like cotton in the wind across the sky and after getting out of the car, Yu breathes in a deep lungful of fresh, still night-damp air. His finger draws a line through the perspiration on the corner of the driver’s door and a smile curls his mouth into a gentle curve. He enjoys working with partners the most, but solo missions sure have a charm of their own.
Although, if the files are all right, this one is going to be short enough that he probably doesn’t even have to bother with a motel room.
That being said, the wreck of a building in front of him tells him that he shouldn’t be so hasty with making that decision.
He makes his way across the street, taking in the way his skin goosebumps at the traces of cursed energy still lingering on the premises.
There’s red and white tape blocking the entrance and Yu is in the process of tearing it down when a voice calls out to him.
“Hey! You there! What are you doing, it’s dangerous in there!”
Yu turns. A woman advances towards him from down the street, her cursed energy faint and dispersing in the air with every step she takes. There’s a baby in her arms, drooling over their own fist.
“Oh, hello,” Yu greets her pleasantly, flashing a smile, “That’s alright, I’m with Damage Control!”
Her stride falters. “Oh,” she says and looks him over, taking in his uniform. “I thought you were a student, I’m so sorry.”
Yu suppresses a wince and grins. “I get that a lot, it’s okay.” As long as Kento and Gojo-san don’t hear about it.
He clears his throat, “Can you tell me what happened here?”
Her eyebrows furrow and the child in her arms gurgles. “Don’t you people have reports? I already gave my statement to the police.”
“We do, I just like to hear things firsthand. It doesn’t have to be detailed, but if you don’t mind, I’d appreciate it.”
She shifts the baby to her hip and their big brown eyes peer up at Yu. Ah, kids are so cute! Yu grins at them, big and toothy, and gives a tiny wave.
The woman’s frown softens. “Alright,” she says. Her eyes drift up to the shattered window that has just narrowly avoided the collapse. “There’s not much to say, though. My husband is from this neighborhood, so I can’t guarantee that all of this is correct. But as I’ve been told, this building used to be a hotel, but it wasn’t very successful so the owner repurposed it into an apartment complex. The rent was really cheap so all sorts of people lived there until the city bought it and they got evicted. I think it was supposed to be turned into a supermarket or something. And then it just…fell apart yesterday.”
“Fell apart?” Yu prompts, taking this all in. It checks out, the cursed energy seeped so deep into the building that Yu’s hand would feel like it’s covered in a thick layer of moldy, sticky jam if he were to touch the walls.
The woman shrugs, “Everything was fine and then there was just a loud crash and the walls started caving in.”
“I see,” Yu nods. Through the muddle of negative emotions, his senses zero onto the three energy imprints that stick out from the rest. They’re the freshest and the strongest.
“Did someone enter the building before it collapsed?”
“Well, yes, actually,” she says. “There were two men. Or boys, I didn’t get a good look.”
“Did you see them coming out?”
She shakes her head. “No. But the firemen haven’t found anyone in the debris.”
Yu nods again, a smile slowly stretching his lips. “Okay. Okay, that’s great. Thank you so much.”
“O-oh, it was no trouble. Are you going to go in?”
“Just for a moment,” he reassures. “You go on home now, I’ve taken enough of your time.”
She gives him a polite smile, the baby babbling, and nods. “Alright. Good luck and be careful!”
“Always,” Yu responds and, once she turns around, steps through the entrance.
Every hair on his body stands up, the shudder that zaps through his body feels like electricity, and his previous sensing – that there was a curse, a jujutsu sorcerer, and something else – gets an intriguing addition. Amidst the tangle of cursed energy, there’s a blank space left by something huge and insatiable.
Like a black hole.
✻✻✻✻✻
Two
When Satoru started teaching in Jujutsu Tech while still taking missions, he proposed they make a board to mark rare occurrences – such as having everyone present for breakfast. Which happens every two months, with Suguru and him filling both the roles of teachers and sorcerers on the rooster, Kento and Haibara always on missions, and Shoko wilting away in the walk-in freezer of hers.
Seeing Suguru shake the last of the cereal into his bowl while Kento – rumpled and pretty and half-asleep on his feet – clutches a cup of coffee in his hands like his life depends on it is something that should be immortalized somewhere in a museum.
Alas, Satoru can only do the next best thing and sneakily opens the camera app on his phone.
“Really?” Shoko asks him, arching a judgmental eyebrow at him. Her breakfast is a handful of pretzels and a coffee so bitter it could make a person’s soul shrivel up.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he responds innocently and snaps a few photos in quick succession. Snap snap snap.
“Haven’t you got better things to do?”
“It’s morning.”
“So?”
“Shoko,” he pockets his phone and turns to her, slouching to lean into her space. “Mornings are a no-work zone. Everyone knows that.”
“All your classes are held in the morning,” Suguru says, joining the conversation. He plops onto the couch next to Satoru. His cereal rustles inside the bowl, almost pouring out.
“Shhh,” Satoru waves his hand at him. “Eat your dry cereal.”
Suguru grins smugly, his hair a mussed mess, and tosses a few flakes of corn cereal into his mouth. For a while now, crunchy foods have been all he can stomach.
“Anyway,” Satoru swiftly changes the subject, ”we need to mark the occasion of all of us being here for once.”
In the kitchen in front of them, Kento downs his coffee and stands up to make himself breakfast. Suddenly, he says, “We’re not all here. Yu’s on a mission.” He has just come back from his mission not even half an hour ago, evident in the wrinkles of his uniform and the blank expression of exhaustion on his face.
At that reveal, Satoru wails, “Haibara-kun, nooo!!”
Shoko snorts from her perch on the sofa, but otherwise, no one pays him any attention. Some friends they are.
Satoru watches Kento cut two slices of whole wheat bread – because he’s not a heathen like the rest of them, Satoru assumes – and make a sandwich with ham and cheese. He seems to be debating adding something more, tomatoes maybe, but decides that the effort is not worth it today, and drops back into his seat with more coffee.
Just as he’s about to take the first bite, a shrill ringing noise sounds through the room. Kento’s sigh drowns it out for all of a second, and then he puts his sandwich down and fishes out his phone from the pocket of his uniform.
“Nanami Kento speaking,” he says into the speaker, all formal and polite in contrast with his dark circles and closed eyes.
After a beat, “Ah, Yu, let me put you on speaker.”
Satoru perks up.
Kento jabs at his phone’s screen and then puts it on the table with a careless clack.
“Go on,” he prompts.
“Oh, alright. Hi everyone? Is everyone there?” Haibara’s voice drifts through the room.
“Everyone except for you!” Satoru is quick to blurt out before anyone else can beat him to it.
“Terribly sorry about that, Gojo-san,” Haibara says, not sounding sorry at all. “But this might interest you.”
“I’m listening.”
Around him, three pairs of eyes roll towards the ceiling. Even Kento’s. Satoru knows bc his eyelids twitch and his pale eyelashes flutter delicately against the thin skin beneath his eyes.
“Right, ah, where to start,” Haibara says thoughtfully. “Well, there was an abandoned apartment complex with strangely high cursed energy levels. It collapsed yesterday, but I’m there now and, honestly, what I’m sensing is downright bizarre.”
“Bizarre how?” Suguru asks, getting up to join Kento at the table. Well. There’s where the party is. Satoru follows and feels Shoko at his back.
“Oh. Hello, Geto-san,” Haibara lilts softly. “Just. Well. There are three main signatures. Curse, probably Grade 3 or semi-Grade 2. A jujutsu sorcerer, or at least jujutsu student, the trace is pretty wispy so it can’t be someone past 16 years, maybe-”
“A jujutsu student? From where?” Kento asks.
Haibara makes a noise that Satoru roughly translates as “I’d like to know that too” and then, “No idea, but I talked to a woman who lives in the neighborhood and she said that, prior to the collapse, she saw two men or boys enter.”
“Male student, then,” Suguru muses and looks at Satoru pointedly.
“Don’t give me that look. I know where all of my second years are,” Satoru defends himself.
“It’s not our third years either,” Suguru says. “They’ve all updated me on their missions this morning.”
“Kyoto kids, then?” Shoko pipes up, crunching on a pretzel.
“Your guess is as good as mine,” Haibara tells her and then exhales heavily. “That’s not the bizarre part.”
“Oh good,” Kento comments flatly. “I was starting to worry this would be dull.”
“Sorry, Kento,” Haibara chirps. “Anyway. It’s the other two signatures that bother me.”
“One’s the curse – what’s the other?” Kento asks.
“That’s the thing! I have no idea!”Haibara bursts.
A beat of silence.
“You can’t tell?” Kento asks, perplexed in that muted way where exhaustion makes him want to hang himself.
“It’s not that I can’t tell,” Haibara starts, voice laced with frustration. “It’s like. I can’t tell what it is.”
“What do you mean?” Suguru questions.
A harsh sigh reaches them through the phone. “I know it’s cursed energy. But I have no idea if it’s a curse or a human. I just know it’s strong.”
Around the table, the four of them exchange glances. Well. The three of them. Kento has laced his fingers together and leaned his chin into the cradle of them, deep in thought.
On the other end, Haibara lets out a nervous chuckle. “That’s not all.”
Kento squeezes his eyes closed.
“The curse had two energy signatures. Its own and another one. If I had to guess, I’d say it just recently ingested a cursed object. A really strong one. And get this? The cursed object’s signature and the one I can’t make sense of? They match.”
“How can they match?” Shoko asks, massaging her temples and looking to be in dire need of some strong liquor.
A sound of something colliding with hard plastic, then, “I don’t know. And-”
“There is more?” Kento asks, despairing. Satoru knows he’s exhausted, but he also knows this mess will keep him up for hours longer because Kento just can’t let things be. Except when those things are Satoru.
“Just one more thing,” Haibara says, this time even sounding the tiniest bit apologetic. “There is something else I sensed. Or, well. Something I didn’t sense.”
“You’re the one not making much sense , Haibara-kun,” Satoru informs him.
Haibara sighs. “That’s because I don’t understand. There’s this void.”
“Void?” Satoru asks. Voids are interesting. Voids are something of a specialty for him.
“Or negative space, I guess. It’s…I don’t know how to explain it. There’s all this cursed energy here and then in the middle of all that there’s – nothing. Absolutely nothing. Like some vacuum sucked up the energy that was taking up that space. Years and decades of accumulated cursed energy just disappeared. I’ve never sensed something like that.” Haibara explains frantically.
Satoru gets it. For a sensor like him, a lack of cursed energy can be as disorienting as the loss of one of his senses.
After a long bout of silence, Kento says, “I think you should come back here. We need to discuss this in person.”
“Yeah, I will. I just, I want to poke around a bit more, see if I can detect these signatures anywhere else.”
“Alright,” Kento nods at no one in particular. “Good luck.”
The rest of them echoes the sentiment, minds whirling.
“Thanks, guys. I’ll see you all soon,” Haibara greets and hangs up.
They all sit slumped around the table, Kento’s coffee wafting steam into the air. After a while, Kento gives another heavy sigh and chugs his coffee in one go. The mug meets the tabletop with a loud thunk, and then Kento says. “First, I think we ought to make sure all students are accounted for. Someone has to call Kyoto.”
All eyes land on Satoru.
“Why me?!” He squawks.
“You have Utahime’s number,” Suguru tells him.
“But she blocked my calls and texts,” Satoru responds. She just can’t appreciate a good meme. "And I have to pick up my shiny new first year student at the station."
“You don't have to go before 11am. You have Toji’s number.”
“He won’t answer me either!”
“That’s because you’re always pestering him to babysit his kid,” Shoko says, unnecessarily.
“But Megumi-chan is so cute! And I miss him, I can’t help it,” Satoru laments, drapping his torso and arms across the table, fingertips touching the cuffs of Kento’s uniform.
“You met the kid once,” Suguru says. “And you dropped him into the lake.”
“That was an accident, Suguru!” Satoru says, springing upright. “And we met three times. We have formed a bond, Suguru.”
Before Suguru can respond, Kento gets up with a scrape of his chair, presses his sandwich into Satoru’s hand, and drags himself out of the kitchen.