Chapter Text
Mikey strolled down the street, hands in his pockets, on his way back home from Draken’s. Draken, having just gotten out of the hospital post-stabbing was meant to be taking it easy for the next week or so. Which meant that instead of their usual routine, he and Draken had gone for a more chill hang out session that may have involved watching Disney movies the entire afternoon.
Problems plagued his mind as he walked. Soon, he would have to officially promote Kisaki to Third Division Captain, just as he’d agreed to in order to get Pah a shorter sentence. It was a dangerous move, but with the problem of Valhalla on the horizon, Mikey knew that they needed more strong fighters on Toman’s side.
The journey home was peaceful. Part of him itched for a fight, but the other part was glad for the serenity of it all. People passed him by, kids played, and animals meandered about, leaving Mikey to soak it all in. He could tell by the increasing wind and the darkening clouds that it was about to rain soon, though. It would be best if he got home quickly.
In his mind’s eye, Shinichiro strolled beside him, making comments about the pathetic-looking black haired kid sitting in the swing set over there, his face pensive, as though he were lost.
Mikey paused in his walk, turning to look at the kid a bit closer. He was wearing a hoodie and loose pants, not swinging on the swing at all, too busy hitting his phone against his leg like he was trying to beat it into working. He was probably around Mikey’s age, maybe a little younger.
The kid groaned and threw his phone to the ground, and then looked up at the sky and, rather loudly, said, “Alright, ha ha, funny joke Gojo. You can come get me now. I’m sorry for calling your new blindfold lame.”
Then he sat there like he expected something to happen.
Kid must be crazy.
So naturally, Mikey approached him. “Hey.”
The kid looked up at him, his striking cobalt eyes making contact with Mikey’s. “What do you want?” He asked, his tone drier than desert sand, either unhappy about being bothered, or in too much of a bad mood to bother trying to act polite.
“Oh, I was just wondering who you’re talking to,” Mikey said.
He groaned, as if suddenly reminded of his predicament. “I’m trying to contact my guardian so he’ll come bring me home,” the kid said, and then gestured to the phone on the ground. “It’s not working.”
“Is there something wrong with your phone?” Mikey asked, squatting down to pick it up. “Or is he just not picking up?”
“I don’t know.”
“Huh,” Mikey muttered, inspecting the phone. Other than the dirt on it and a small crack along the top corner, the phone looked fine. He turned it on. “A-ha!” He said, holding the phone up. “You don’t have service.”
“I know that, idiot.” The kid said, tone icy. “But why? We’re in the middle of Shibuya, how can I not have service here?”
Mikey blinked. “Good point. Maybe you ran out of your service plan.”
The kid leaned back in the swing, keeping himself upright only by his arms. “We have an unlimited plan. So unless Gojo cut me off as his idea of a joke, I don’t see why it wouldn’t be working.”
Mikey stood up and dusted his pants off with his one free hand, even though he hadn’t been sitting in the dirt. “Well, I can’t leave you looking all sad out here. Come on.”
The kid looked up at him like he was stupid. “I’d rather stay here on this swing for eternity than go with some punk I don’t know.”
“Oh, yeah that’s a good point. My name’s Mikey, you are?”
“Fushiguro.”
“Great! Now we know each other.”
Fushiguro didn’t look impressed. “You think I’m going to go with you now that I know your name?”
Mikey shrugged and stuffed his hands in his pockets, turning to walk away. “I don’t know, but I have a house, food you can eat, and a working phone, which is a lot more than this rusty old swing set has.” He strolled away from the kid confidently, and soon heard the scramble of footsteps as he made to follow.
“How old are you?” Fushiguro asked him once he was caught up. Mikey glanced over at him and—oh. The kid was taller than him by at least ten centimeters, maybe more. Mikey wasn’t even sure he could call Fushiguro a kid anymore.
“I’m 15,” Mikey said. “You?”
“14,” Fushiguro replied, stuffing his own hands into his pockets.
“First time being away from home?”
Fushiguro scoffed. “Hardly. But usually I don’t wake up in a different city either.”
“Huh?” Mikey asked, feet coming to a halt as he processed those words. “What do you mean by that?”
Fushiguro rubbed the back of his head. “Well, I’d just finished beating up some punks from my school, which is in the Saitama Prefecture by the way, when I… uh… got attacked. Next thing I knew, I was laying in an alleyway a few blocks from here, surprised to find myself in Shibuya.”
Mikey knew that he should be more concerned about the potential kidnapping situation that seemed to have gone on here, but instead he was too focused on studying Fushiguro closer. He didn’t look like he’d been in a fight recently, and he certainly didn’t look like a delinquent… yet…
“You’re a delinquent?” Mikey questioned, leaning closer to the other to inspect his face.
“Hah?” Fushiguro took a step away from him. “No, I’m not.”
“You just said you were beating people up,” Mikey’s lips twitched up into a mischievous grin. “That’s peak delinquent behavior right there.”
Fushiguro frowned at him. “I was putting them in their places, they were getting too cocky, thinking they owned the school.”
“Oh yeah?” Mikey took a step forward so that he could get into Fushiguro’s personal space again. “You good at fighting?”
“I know a thing or two,” Fushiguro grunted, leaning so far back that Mikey was sure he’d fall over if he went any further. “Why do you care?”
Mikey returned to his normal stance, no longer invading Fushiguro’s personal bubble. “I’m a bit of a delinquent myself.”
Fushiguro scoffed and then picked up walking again in the direction that they’d been going.
Mikey pouted. That’s it? He would’ve preferred to hear another ‘aren’t you too short to be a delinquent’ as opposed to the dismissal Fushiguro had just given him.
Fushiguro turned back to face him upon realizing that Mikey hadn’t moved. “What?”
“Let’s fight,” Mikey decided.
Fushiguro blinked at him slowly. “What? No.”
Mikey strolled up to him. “Yeah. I want to see how good you are.”
“I’m not fighting some random guy I just met for no reason,” Fushiguro said. “If you won’t help me, then I’ll just go to the police station and ask them for a ride back home.”
Mikey picked his foot up and kicked Fushiguro in the ribs, sending the boy stumbling back a few steps, clutching his side. “Dude, what the hell?”
Mikey shrugged. “I want to see how good you are.”
Fushiguro shook his head, either to clear it or out of exasperation. “Look, Mikey. I just want to get back home. I’m not interested in fighting you.”
Mikey threw out another kick, this time aiming for Fushiguro’s head, only to find himself surprised when Fushiguro held up an arm to block it—and did.
Mikey set his foot down. He hadn’t been putting much power behind those kicks, sure, but even then…
Three more kicks, all sent in rapid succession, each more powerful than the last. Fushiguro blocked each one, his arms not wavering under the force, but even once Mikey was done, he didn’t bother raising his fists to hit back.
“Are you done yet?” Fushiguro asked dryly.
Mikey smiled warmly at the black-haired teen. “I am. Let’s be friends, Fushiguro-kun.”
Fushiguro scoffed and went back to walking. Mikey liked this guy. He quickly caught up to him. “I’ll take you back to my Gramps’ place and we can see about getting you a train ticket home.”
Fushiguro nodded and slowed his pace in order to let Mikey take the lead. They walked in silence the rest of the way back. Mikey was content with the silence, and it seemed Fushiguro was too. Every once in a while, Mikey would glance over at the black-haired boy, and he’d see Shinichiro walking next to him.
“So you don’t remember how you got here?” Mikey asked as they reached the door to his Gramps’ place
“I got knocked out, I think.” Fushiguro muttered. “It’s all a bit fuzzy, really.”
“Huh, okay. Well, Saitama Prefecture isn’t all that far from here, so I’m sure we’ll have you home soon enough. Until then, you can use our family’s phone to call your guardian.” Mikey said. He opened up the front door and called into the house. “Gramps! Emma! I found a stray!”
“I’m not a stray,” Fushiguro muttered behind him, already beginning to take off his shoes.
“Sure,” Mikey responded, and kicked his sandals off, leaving them haphazardly on the mat. Fushiguro nudged them to the side with his foot, straightening them out so that it looked like Mikey had taken them off neatly, and then put his own shoes next to Mikey’s.
“A stray?” A girl’s voice piped up and Mikey turned to see Emma standing in the doorway, an apron over her clothes and flour all over her.
“My name is Fushiguro, and I’m a little lost,” Fushiguro piped up. “My phone isn’t working and Mikey offered to let me use your house phone.”
“Oh, I see. Well, I’m Emma, Mikey’s sister.”
“I gathered.”
“And Mikey, why didn’t you just let him use your phone?”
Mikey shrugged. “It broke.”
“It broke?”
“Yeah.”
Emma pinched the bridge of her nose. “Okay, well Gramps is cleaning up the dojo right now and I’m making dinner. Fushiguro, you’re welcome to stay for dinner if you’d like, we’re having chicken and dumplings.”
“I don’t want to impose,” Fushiguro started, before Mikey cut him off.
“You’re staying for dinner and the night,” Mikey decided. “You can sleep in my room.”
Emma’s mouth opened in surprise while Fushiguro simply blinked at him. “I can’t stay,” he said after a long moment of processing what Mikey was saying. “It’s a long way back home and I really just need to call Gojo to let him know that I’m okay. I’ll get out of your hair right after.”
“Exactly, it’s a long way back to Saitama. Just stay the night and do it in the morning. It’s going to rain soon, anyways.” Mikey insisted. He wasn’t used to people being so abrasive around him. Most of the time, if Mikey said they were friends, that was that. No more arguments. Then again, Mikey didn’t usually make friends with people who didn’t know who he was.
“You’re from the Saitama Prefecture?” Emma asked.
“Yep,” Mikey chimed.
“Yes,” Fushiguro sighed.
“How’d you get here?”
“Kidnapped,” Mikey said.
“I wasn’t kidnapped.”
“You were kidnapped?” Emma asked.
“No.”
“You said you were attacked and woke up here, that sounds like kidnapping to me.”
“I—it’s hard to explain, okay? But I wasn’t kidnapped.” Fushiguro dug his hands into his pockets. “Something smells like it’s burning. You should probably go check on that.”
Emma straightened, panic crossing her face. “Oh shit,” she muttered before turning and rushing back towards the kitchen.
“You’re staying,” Mikey declared. “We’ll bring you to the train station tomorrow morning.”
Fushiguro slumped slightly and Mikey took that as a victory. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to my Gramps and then I’ll take you to my room.”
“I’ll be fine on the floor,” Fushiguro said quickly, as if he’d been expecting Mikey to offer up the bed to him. “I don’t want to bother you anymore than I already have.”
Mikey smiled at him. “You’re my friend, you won’t be bothering me.”
Fushiguro’s face twisted like he didn’t believe that, but Mikey was sure that he’d figure out what friendship meant to Mikey soon enough. “Through here is the dojo, maybe we can get a small spar in before Emma finishes dinner. I want to know how good you are.”
Fushiguro nodded, eyes surveying the room as they walked into it. “This is a nice dojo.”
“You take lessons?” Mikey asked casually, waving his Gramps over from the far side of the room as he did.
“No, not really. Not in a setting like this, at least. My training was a bit more…” Fushiguro rubbed the back of his head, as though he wasn’t sure how to put it. “Non-standard.”
Mikey smiled. “I like non-standard.”
“I’m sure you do,” Fushiguro muttered, before straightening upon Gramps reaching them.
“Now Manjiro, who’s this?” Gramps asked, squinting at Fushiguro’s lean figure as if assessing how much of a nuisance he’d be to have in the house.
“This is our new stray, Fushiguro,” Mikey introduced. “I found him looking lonely on the swing set. He got kidnapped.”
“I wasn’t kidnapped,” Fushiguro huffed, insistent. “Will you stop assuming that?”
“I’ll stop—“
Gramps cleared his throat. Mikey stopped talking, looking at him sheepishly. “Sorry, anyways, he’s gonna stay the night in my room if that’s okay? It’s gonna rain soon and he lives all the way in Saitama.”
Gramps raised an eyebrow. “That’s a long ways away.”
“Yes, it is. I’m sorry for intruding,” Fushiguro bowed low.
“At least you’ve got some manners on you,” Gramps grunted. “Where’d you learn ‘em from?”
Fushiguro straightened, looking confused. “Uhm… my sister?”
“You have a sister too?” Mikey asked.
“Half-sister, but yes.”
Mikey’s eyes widened. “Are we the same person?” He whispered. “Emma’s my half-sister too! Do you have an older brother, too?”
“I hope not,” Fushiguro muttered. “But you never know with my old man, apparently he’s a womanizer.”
Mikey snorted.
“Manjiro’s dad was also quite the womanizer,” Gramps nodded slowly, as if remembering him. “You’re welcome to stay as long as you need,” Gramps rounded on Mikey. “But if he gets into any trouble, it’s on you.”
“Yes sir.” Mikey nodded seriously, and then pointed at Fushiguro. “Apparently he can fight. Mind if we use the dojo for a bit?”
“Have at it, just make sure you clean up and are ready for dinner in time.” Gramps said, ambling towards the door Mikey and Fushiguro had entered through moments before. “And don’t break any bones. I’m not paying for your hospital bills again.”
“Again?” Fushiguro murmured at the same time Mikey repeated, “Yes, sir!”
The door closed behind Gramps, leaving the two of them alone in the dojo.
Mikey bounced on the balls of his feet, building up his excitement. “Ready to spar?”
“I’d like to warm up first,” Fushiguro said, his set jaw giving off the impression that he wasn’t particularly enthused about this spar. At least he was going along with it, though. “Do you force all of your guests to fight you?”
“Only the ones that can block my kicks.”
“I see. I’ll make sure to act weak next time.” Fushiguro walked towards one of the punching bags and slipped his jacket off his shoulders, throwing it on top of the bag, leaving him in a loose white t-shirt and long pants.
Mikey joined in on Fushiguro’s warm up as the taller teen ran through various basic exercises.
“This is a friendly spar,” Mikey said as they leaned down into a stretch that pulled at his lower back muscles. “But even so, I don’t want you to go too easy on me. Let’s have fun, okay?”
“I think our ideas of fun are vastly different.” Fushiguro said, pulling out of his stretch in order to stand up. “I’m ready now.”
Mikey bounded to his feet. “Oh yeah? Let’s do this then.” And with that, he pivoted on his heel, one of his signature roundhouse kicks raising to hit Fushiguro in the side of the face.
This time, instead of blocking the kick, Fushiguro dodged it, taking the single step back needed to get out of range before he rushed forward to land his own blows. The first thing Mikey noticed was that Fushiguro was fast—plenty of people had called Mikey’s own kicks inhuman, but Mikey had never quite understood the term until now, watching Fushiguro move. Mikey dodged and blocked, kicked and punched, and still, not a single hit landed on either of them.
Of course, neither of them were going all out either.
Oh how he wished he could go all out.
Kick. Kick. Punch. Kick. Block. Kick. Block. Block. Block.
Fushiguro kept up with him, step for step, move for move, never once faltering. Mikey kept expecting him to crumble under the force of his kicks, just like everyone else, but he never did. In fact, Mikey wasn’t even sure Fushiguro was aware of just how impressive it was that he was blocking Mikey’s kicks. Oh, he couldn’t wait to tell Draken about this guy.
“Mikey! Fushiguro-san!” Emma’s voice cut into their spar and they both stopped to look at her. She was standing in the doorway with her hands on her hips, her apron having been removed at some point. She huffed, exasperated. “Dinner’s ready. Get cleaned up and get in here before it gets cold.”
Mikey relaxed his shoulders, letting the tension from the spar fall from them. “Sure thing, sis. We’ll be right there.”
She huffed once more and then left.
“You’re a good fighter,” Fushiguro commented. “I’m not used to people keeping up with me for that long.”
“Me neither,” Mikey said, a smile crossing his face. “Though, that was just a friendly spar.”
Fushiguro nodded as he walked over to his jacket to put it back on. “I think it’s best we keep it that way.”
“Probably.” Mikey said, and turned to survey the room. Surprisingly, nothing had been disturbed during their fight—usually Mikey kicked someone into a wall or caused a bloody nose, but this time, everything was just as it had been before. Just another testament to Fushiguro’s skill.
“Ready?” Fushiguro’s voice cut into his thoughts.
Mikey nodded, “Let’s go eat before Emma tries to kill us both.”
“Who knows, she might win.” Fushiguro remarked.
Mikey’s lips upturned at the idea. “She might.”
Megumi sat down at the dinner table, impressed by the array of food Emma had spread out before them. Mikey’s grandfather, who Megumi hadn’t been given a name for other than ‘Gramps’ was already sitting and patiently waiting for them when they got there.
“Sorry, for being late.” Megumi apologized to him. He’d been here for less than twenty minutes and he was already being a bad guest, Tsumiki would literally kill him if she knew. Not that she would ever find out, given that he was in a completely different city from her.
“That’s quite alright, I’m just glad that Manjiro went easy on you.” Gramps smiled. That name again. Presumably, Manjiro was Mikey’s real first name, and Mikey was a nickname.
Megumi raised an eyebrow in surprise. He knew that Mikey had been going easier on him since they were just sparring for fun, but those kicks hadn’t been weak. Of course, they were nothing in comparison to what Zenin-senpai liked to throw at him, but Megumi hadn’t been under the impression that Mikey was going that easy.
“What makes you say that?” Megumi asked, picking up his chopsticks reaching forward with his chopsticks to grab a few dumplings for himself.
“Usually, anytime Mikey asks someone to spar, they come out with a bloody nose at the least,” Emma piped up from her seat next to Mikey.
Mikey didn’t bother adding his two cents to the conversation, too busy grabbing dumplings for himself as well.
“Oh. Well, he landed a couple of good hits, but I blocked the ones where he was actually trying.” Megumi glanced up at Mikey to gauge his reaction, but Mikey merely hummed and started stuffing his face.
Emma, though, looked surprised. “You blocked Mikey?”
Megumi shrugged. “It wasn’t that hard.” He picked up a dumpling and took a bite of it. Chewing, he relished the taste. “This is good,” he said after swallowing. “Thank you for the food, Emma-san.”
She blushed. “Oh, you’re welcome.”
“So, Manjiro said that you were kidnapped, but you said you weren’t. Which one is it?” Gramps asked.
This again? Megumi couldn’t exactly tell them that he’d been attacked by a curse while walking home and somehow ended up here, but he didn’t know how to explain it to them otherwise. He himself wasn’t entirely sure how he’d gotten here (he’d automatically blamed Gojo, though chances were the man had nothing to do with it).
“I don’t remember the details,” Megumi said instead. “I got knocked out, I’m sorry.”
“That’s quite alright,” Gramps said. “I’m sure your family misses you. We’ll bring you to the station tomorrow morning.”
“That would be appreciated,” Megumi said. “Thank you so much for the help you’ve already given me.”
“What I don’t get,” Mikey piped up around a mouthful of food. “Is why someone would knock you out, bring you here, and then just leave you in some alleyway. Did they not need you for something?”
Yet another question Megumi didn’t have an answer to. Divine Dog White exorcized the curse that had attacked him before Megumi had blacked out, so he really wasn’t sure how he’d gotten here. Honestly, the best answer he could come up with was the cross-country teleportation was some sort of curse-mishap on his part.
Megumi shrugged and pushed another dumpling into his mouth so that he wouldn’t have to answer Mikey’s inquiry.
“Do you mean we should look out for kidnappers or gang members that are after you?” Emma asked, voice rising in pitch.
Megumi swallowed. “I wasn’t kidnapped. I assure you, no one is after me. If someone does show up at random to come collect me, it will probably be my guardian.”
“That’s the Gojo guy, right?” Mikey asked.
“Yes. He’s very tall and has white hair, you’ll know when you see him. If you’re not sure, let him talk for a little bit. If he manages to annoy you within a single sentence, then you’ll know you’ve got the right guy.”
Emma chuckled at that.
Megumi returned to eating, but noticed that Mikey was staring at him now. There was something about Mikey’s gaze—his dark eyes were empty, like someone had ripped the light out of them. It was disturbing at times, but nothing Megumi wasn’t used to. It was rare to find a jujutsu sorcerer that wasn’t similar.
“Is there something you need?” Megumi asked him after Mikey didn’t stop staring.
Mikey’s eyes crinkled up into twin crescents as he smiled. “Nothing, sorry.”
Megumi couldn’t get a read on this guy.
Mikey led Fushiguro towards his room, which was separate from the rest of the house.
“How much were you holding back?” Mikey asked casually as he stuck his key in the keyhole to open the door.
“What?”
“During our spar, how much were you holding back?”
“Uh,” Fushiguro rubbed the back of his head. “I don’t know. About 50%, maybe.”
Something stirred inside Mikey at the idea that what Fushiguro had showed him earlier was only half of his strength. Mikey hadn’t bothered telling Gramps and Emma that he hadn’t been pulling his punches all that much in his spar against Fushiguro—sure, he’d done so at the beginning, but each of his hits had gotten stronger as the fight had gone on, curious to know how much Fushiguro could take. Turns out, the black haired teen could take a lot more than Mikey had given him.
“I almost wish we were enemies,” Mikey hummed and twisted the knob, letting the door swing open. “You’d be fun to fight for real.”
Fushiguro grunted. Mikey led him inside.
“This is your room?” Fushiguro said, looking around at the large space Mikey had all to himself.
“It used to be my brother’s place,” Mikey explained, walking over to his bed and plopping down onto it. He was sleepy. “Now it’s mine.”
“I take it he moved out a while ago, then.” Fushiguro commented. “Since he wasn’t at dinner either.”
Mikey’s eye twitched. Right. Fushiguro didn’t know. “Yeah, he moved out a while back. He’s gone now, though.” He pulled the covers over his body, feeling sleep over take him quicker than usual.
“Gone?”
“He died two years ago.” Mikey said, feeling that pit in his chest open up, the one that always felt so hollow every time he remembered that Shinichiro wasn’t around anymore.
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
“‘S okay,” Mikey mumbled, and then his eyes slipped closed, and he fell asleep.
Fushiguro stared at Mikey. Was he… asleep? Just like that?
“Mikey?”
Light snoring met his question.
Holy shit, the dude really was asleep. That was honestly impressive, Megumi thought, Mikey had only been laying there for a minute or so.
Unfortunately, the blond hadn’t bothered to give Megumi any directions as to where to sleep, or where to find a futon or spare blanket, or… anything really. He’d really just dropped the bomb that his older brother was dead, and then fallen asleep.
Megumi stood there for a few minutes, not sure how to proceed, before he remembered that Mikey had offered to let Megumi use the house phone in order to call Gojo. It wasn’t too late yet, Megumi should still be able to head back to the main house and use the phone there.
Spinning around, Megumi left Mikey behind.
“Oh, Fushiguro,” Emma said once Megumi opened the door. “What are you doing back in here?”
“Sorry to bother you,” Megumi apologized for the nth time today. “Mikey said I could use the house phone to call my guardian since mine isn’t working?”
“Oh right!” Emma smiled at him, “It’s on the wall right over there.”
Megumi nodded. He pulled out his own phone and opened the contact for Gojo, finding the number listed under his name. Megumi punched the numbers into the other phone and held the device up to his ear, waiting.
Ring… ring… call disconnected.
Megumi’s eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. Had Gojo denied his call? Gojo never did that. If anything, Gojo missed the call and Megumi had to put up with the man’s stupid voicemail message, but the call never just… disconnected.
“Everything alright?” Emma asked from behind him.
“It’s fine,” Megumi assured her. “He just didn’t pick up, is all. I’m gonna call someone else.”
“Oh, okay.”
Megumi scrolled through his contacts until he found Zenin-senpai’s number, which he then punched into the phone.
Ring… ring… call disconnected.
Megumi licked his lips and then bit down on his bottom lip, confused. He tried Inumaki’s number next. Inumaki-senpai always answered his phone.
Ring… ring… call disconnected.
Megumi clenched his fist around his phone and tried Okkotsu-senpai next. They’d only met a couple of times, but surely…
Nothing.
With an angry huff, Megumi put the phone back on the receiver.
“I take it you couldn’t reach anyone,” Emma said slowly, like she was talking to someone seconds away from exploding. Did Megumi look that upset?
He took a deep breath. “No, I couldn’t. Usually at least one of them would answer, but maybe they’re all just busy right now. Could I borrow your cell phone so I can google the school’s number?”
She smiled at him sympathetically and handed her phone over. Megumi gave her an appreciative nod before googling “Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College.”
He frowned at the results. Plenty of them were for schools in Tokyo, but he should get results for the private school that was the cover for Jujutsu Tech, not…
“Why are you calling your school, anyways?” Emma asked him, breaking into his thoughts.
Megumi blinked up at her, confused, before the question registered. “My guardian is a teacher at a private school,” he explained. “I’m trying to call the school he works at so I can get ahold of him or have someone pass along a message.”
“Ohhh, I see.” Emma nodded quickly.
Megumi looked back down at the phone and scrolled through the results. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. He clicked to the second page of Google—a dangerous game—but found even more incorrect results.
Fear bubbled in his stomach. He pushed it down and opted to try for a different method.
This time, he googled his own middle school, “Saitama Urami East Junior High,” and held his breath.
There! A result! Fucking finally.
He clicked call and held the phone up to his ear. Emma gave him a hopeful thumbs up.
“Hello?” A voice picked up on the other side of the phone and Megumi wanted to shout with joy.
“Hi,” he said, and then realized he didn’t have a plan about how he was going to get the information he needed. “Uhm… would it be possible for me to ask for a student’s parental information? I’m trying to get a hold of his… father… but he doesn’t know his number.”
“Oh, is he lost?” The woman asked.
“Yes.” This was going well.
“I’m sure I can look him up, what’s his name and class?”
“Fushiguro Megumi, Class 3-A.” Megumi said, and then held his breath.
“A third year?” She asked, sounding surprised.
“Yes. Do you need me to repeat the name?”
“No, no, I’ve got it… let me see…” Megumi could hear her faint humming over the line and the occasional tap and click, as she searched him up on a computer. “I’m sorry, could you spell that out for me? I must’ve got it wrong.”
Megumi’s gut twisted. “F-u-s-h-i-g-u-r-o is the family name, and then his given name is Megumi. Yes, it’s a girl’s name.”
More clicking.
“I’m sorry, sir, but that student doesn’t attend this school. Are you sure you’ve got the right school?”
Megumi hoped that was the case… but even then… “Is this Saitama Urami East Junior High?”
“Yes, sir, it is.”
It was the right school. Megumi had been attending the school for years now. And yet… he wasn’t listed as a student there. “Ah, sorry, he just told me that I’ve got the wrong one. Apparently he goes to the West Junior High. My bad, sorry for wasting your time, Miss.”
“Oh, okay,” Megumi could hear the worry fade from her voice. “Well in that case, I hope you can get ahold of his father once you talk to them.”
“Yes, so do I,” Megumi continued to lie, even though he could feel his heart sinking deeper into his stomach. “Have a good night.”
“You too,” she said, and then the phone hung up.
Megumi numbly handed Emma’s phone back to her. She watched him carefully, even as he took a few steps back until his back hit the wall and then slid down it.
“Fushiguro?” She asked, voice quiet, like she was talking to an animal she was afraid of spooking.
He gulped and buried his head in his hands. “My uhm… my middle school doesn’t have me on file. The school Gojo works at doesn’t show up in search results either. And… none of my friends are answering their phones.”
He closed his eyes and tugged at his hair. There was something off about this place, he hadn’t noticed it until now, until the reality of it all was thrust in his face, but… there were no curses here. Even in this household, which should at least have a couple low grade curses wandering about due to them having lost a family member recently, there’s nothing. It’s devoid of curses. Completely.
Except for him.
“Fushiguro,” Emma placed a hand on his shoulder, and he could tell that she must’ve squatted down to reach his level. “Are you sure you’ve got the numbers right, or the schools?”
“I’m sure,” he replied, and his voice sounded just as empty to his ears as this place was of curses.
“Oh…okay… I’m gonna go tell Gramps, maybe he’ll have an idea of what to do…” Emma started to pull away, but Megumi stopped her.
“Don’t bother. I’m just gonna go to bed. Do you guys have a spare futon I can use?” He asked, standing up and smoothing out his hair a little from the mess his distress had put it in.
She blinked, and there was this odd look of shock in her eyes, like she hadn’t been expecting Megumi to brush this all aside so easily. “Oh, yes. There’s an extra one under Mikey’s bed, did he not give it to you?”
Megumi nodded instead of responding, and then turned and walked back out the door so that he could head towards Mikey’s. Outside, the sky had finally opened up into a torrential rain, but Megumi didn’t care enough to try to walk faster through it. In fact, he found his steps slowing down, letting the rain soak him to the bone. He didn’t have any extra clothes, so he’d have to sleep in these, but that was okay. The rain felt nice.
He stayed there for a while, letting the rain wash away the tears of despair that started to fall down the side of his face the longer he dwelled on the fact that, wherever he was, he didn’t exist.
By the time he gathered up the willpower to make his feet move and take him inside, the sun had long since fallen, leaving Megumi to fumble around in the dark of Mikey’s room as he pulled the futon out and tried not to wake Mikey in the process of finding a towel from within the bathroom, an endeavor he eventually gave up on. Instead of drying off, Megumi accepted that he was just going to be soaked the rest of the night as he laid down on the futon, facing the ceiling. Cold seeped into his bones as the hours continued on, his body unable to find sleep, shivers racking his body and his mind too restless from the unfamiliarity of this new place.
Eventually though, he rolled over and managed to find sleep.