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“So, are you, like, biological?” Yuji asked, shoving another sausage octopus into his mouth. “I mean, are you actually Gojo’s son?”
Megumi stared at him. “My name’s Fushiguro.”
“That could be your mom’s name.”
“Well, technically, it is my mom’s name, but Gojo never met her, so.”
“Seriously, Itadori, turn your brain on,” Nobara agreed, swiping the last sausage. “They don’t even look alike.”
“Well, their eyes kinda do.”
“Dude. Gojo’s eyes are literally his technique,” Megumi sighed, watching Yuji’s cheeks puff out in indignation. “Even if we were related, since I don’t have the technique, I can’t have his eyes.”
“Basically, you’re delusional,” Nobara nodded. “It’s only because blue eyes are so rare that you think they’re alike. They’re not even the same blue.”
“Well, what about that thing they do with their hands when they think?” Yuji suggested. “You know, with the splayed fingers?”
“I guess they do both do that,” Nobara mused. “But Fushiguro could have just picked it up.”
“They both pull the same expression when they’re done with my stupidity.”
“I don’t think that’s true,” Megumi argued. “Gojo owns about half a braincell, there’s no way he thinks you’re stupid.”
“Didn’t he technically qualify for med school?”
“Well, yeah, but he’s dumb.”
“How is that dumb? And why did he apply, anyway?”
“I think he applied for the fun of it, which is why he’s dumb.”
“Not many people can apply for med school just for fun,” Nobara observed. “I bet you could, though.”
“See?!” Yuji yelled. “It’s totally genetic, you just don’t want to admit it!!”
“What’s genetic? Idiocy? In which case, we’re obviously not related,” Megumi said firmly.
“So true,” Gojo echoed from the sofa. “If it was genetic, Megumi wouldn’t be such a moron.”
“Moron? That’s a bit far,” Megumi huffed. “And when did you get here?”
“I’ve been here since Yuji asked if we were biological,” Gojo answered, stretching. “Which we are.”
“We are not.”
“Megumi, believe me, we are. I remember the day I gave birth to you very clearly. How could I ever forget?”
“That never happened,” Megumi said, horrified. “That’s an awful image, oh my god.”
“I remember I had very strong cravings,” Gojo continued, ignoring Megumi. “For carrots and sardines.”
“Ew,” Yuji commented. Gojo nodded in agreement.
“Very much ew. But, it was all for little Megs~” He reached out to ruffle Megumi’s hair. Megumi dodged, and moved to the far corner.
“Gojo, that’s horrible. You disgust me.”
Gojo laughed. “I’m too old to care about that, Gumi. It’s my life’s mission to be embarrassing.”
“Doesn’t that mean you’ll die once you achieve it?” Yuji fretted. “Don’t be embarrassing if it’s going to affect your health!”
“Yuji, Yuji, my sweet pupil,” Gojo laughed, “There is no way I’m going to die from being embarrassing. It might kill Megs, though.” He gestured to Megumi, still in the corner, who was beginning to shake. “He looks well on his way underground already.”
“I’m not going to die,” Megumi snapped. “It’s just cold in this corner.”
Gojo used his foot to push the heater towards Megumi and angle it, so its heat went straight to the corner. “You could just stop sulking.”
“No.”
“Sometimes Fushiguro really does seem like a kid,” Nobara observed, resting her chin on her hand. “He is literally throwing a tantrum right in front of my eyes.”
“Oh, this isn’t a tantrum,” Gojo assured her. “I’ve seen a fair few of them, and they are much louder than this. Lots of crying. Screaming. Rolling on the floor. Destruction. Potential annihilation-“
“I was eight,” Megumi objected.
“Too old to throw a tantrum.” Nobara shifted to stare right at him. “You were a really spoilt kid, huh?”
“Hey, don’t diss my parenting,” Gojo interjected. “He just had trust issues.”
“That doesn’t sound like trust issues to me. That sounds like he was wayyyy~ too comfortable.” Nobara grinned evilly. “When did you say you met? When Fushiguro was seven?”
“About,” Gojo nodded.
“And by eight, he was happy to throw tantrums on a Godzilla scale?”
“…Yes?”
“Are you sure you’re not biological?” Nobara eyed them both. “That’s a very quick turnaround.”
“What does genetics have to do with trust, though?” Yuji interrupted. “Surely this just means Gojo was super nice to Fushiguro.”
“I was. I bought him Minecraft slippers,” Gojo said proudly.
“Even the way you say that makes you sound cringe,” Megumi snickered. “Why do you always sound so awkward?”
“I’m OLD, Megumi!” Gojo exclaimed. “I don’t know what Minecraft is!”
“He really is a dad,” Nobara observed. “My dad doesn’t go near computers in case they explode.”
“My dad’s dead,” Yuji volunteered. Megumi stopped laughing.
“I guess he’s not good with computers then,” Gojo agreed, apparently oblivious to the atmosphere.
“If he ever found one, it would probably hurt his eyes. It’s kinda dark undergound,” Yuji mused. “I guess you have your sunglasses, though. You’d be fine.”
“Are we…not gonna talk about Itadori’s dead dad?” Nobara ventured.
“We are talking about him,” Megumi shrugged. “I think.”
“Like father, like son,” Nobara huffed. “No sensitivity.”
“Awh, Megumi, they still think we’re related!” Gojo cooed. “Isn’t that nice?”
“No.”
“It is.”
“Is not.”
“Is.”
“Not.”
“Is.”
“Not.”
“Is.”
“Not.”
“I-“
“Now, now,” Nobara intervened. “You’re obviously similar, or you wouldn’t be having this argument.”
“True,” Yuji affirmed. “You have, like, the same personality.”
“Dude, I can’t be like Gojo. Gojo’s gay,” Megumi whispered. Gojo cackled.
“Megumi, you are the biggest homosexual to have ever walked this earth. Next objection, please.”
“Gojo’s annoying.”
“So are you.”
“He’s got no brain.”
“False information.”
“He’s always laughing in a super irritating way.”
“And you’re always super apathetic. Same thing, different fonts.”
“How is that the same thing-“
“Point is,” Nobara interrupted, “You do have similarities. Ever heard of nature vs. nurture?”
“No.”
“Oh my god, Megumi, we should totally enter you for an experiment!” Gojo enthused. “How much of your behaviour is genetic, and how much of it is learned from me?”
“How would we even know that?”
“I guess I’d have to recruit Toji ... wait, he’s dead. Nevermind~”
Yuji, mystified, started hunting in his bag for more snacks. “I’m sensing there’s a story here.”
“So, basically, Gumi’s deadbeat sperm donor is now actually dead, and that’s because-“
Megumi groaned, loudly. “Sperm donor?! Really?”
“Hey, it seemed most appropriate,” Gojo said defensively.
“Yeah, we all know Gojo’s your dad,” Yuji pointed out. Megumi huffed.
“Well, yeah, but-“
“YEAH?!” Gojo squealed. “You admitted it! You said it!” He turned excitedly to Nobara and Yuji. “He said I’m his dad!!”
“We…kinda thought that was obvious.” Nobara tilted her head. “Are you feeling okay?”
“Uh, no. I have to have a party. A huge party! Ooh, a ‘Megumi-said-I’m-his-dad’ party- wait, is that too big to fit on a banner…?” Gojo started searching around him. “I swear I had a notepad here somewhere…”
“Now see what you’ve done?” Megumi handed Gojo a notepad, glaring daggers at Yuji. “You’ve got him started.”
“Uh, whoops?”
“Whoops is right. I’m going to take him home.” Megumi grabbed Gojo’s arm and hauled him up. “Come on, you can plan some other time.” Gojo allowed himself to be dragged away, only complaining when Megumi pinched him ‘for health purposes’.
“They’re weirdos,” Nobara decided.
“There’s no way they’re not related,” Yuji hummed. “There is absolutely no way.”