Chapter Text
Suguru’s cremation was a solemn affair: just between Satoru Shoko and Yaga, who pulled them both into a hug before leaving. Probably to go tend to Panda, who was still recovering from the battle.
“Coward.” Satoru hissed to his retreating back and Shoko stifled a laugh into his shoulder. They haven’t been that close in years, always so aversive to physical contact; but now that they both had a vial of Suguru’s ashes in their pockets, it felt appropriate to finally return to what they once had. To prove that there was at least something Suguru didn't ruined for them. The last time was probably when Satoru was yet new to having kids: stressed and grieving, awfully delicate, calling her to take them at least for a day.
“Drink with me,” Shoko commands, and Gojo can do nothing but nod before steering her into his office. There’s some sweet vermouth she’d gifted him on occasion of getting his teaching post, and a comfortable couch and a bed in the next room - perfect for their moping. She’s not drunk, but still stubbornly clings to his jacket, making him swivel heavily to the left and forcing him to wrap Infinity around both of them. It has been so long since he did that to her, since he saw her as fucked up as he feels.
They hadn’t talked when Suguru left. Stayed in one classroom, ignoring Yaga, and wallowed in their misery until it ran dry and Shoko had to keep burying sorcerers and Satoru had to keep killing curses. But she was also the only person he could call when he needed someone he could trust. Yaga may be like their father, but he’s gotten sentimental with age, and Shoko was cold and unfeeling, just like Satoru. At least, that’s what they’re trying to be. He could rely on her to be the only other person who can handle hard decisions.
But it also made them fall apart quicker, the much needed play pretend that they are alright, absolutely not affected by what happened. Shoko’d spent her time with Utahime, pining as if she hasn't already witnessed first hand what it can lead to. And Satoru was never great at letting go: really, he never did. If not for Tsumiki and Megumi, he would have been moping around and crying on guys in bars — as if he could ever let someone touch him — but taking care of the kids gave him a goal.
Speaking of the kids: Megumi and Yuuta meet them in his office, clearly more worried than anything else. Satoru squints at them, confused, but then it clicks and he groans.
“My bad, sorry, it was a long day,” he promised to train them both, though he didn't expect them to show up here. Megumi knows better than to wait when he doesn’t answer his phone, but Yuuta is a goody-two-shoes who would have waited even longer and that’s unfair to him. “Shoo, kids, we have boring adult things to discuss.” Shoko nods at his side, already beelining for the bottle. There’s only one mug in his office, so they’ll have to make do.
What he doesn’t expect is for the boys to stay where they are, watching him. Megumi with a much more unpleasant face than Yuuta, but still.
“Shoo.” Shoko seconded. “We’ll be fine.”
“No.”
“No?” Satoru echoes incredulously. Megumi glares at him and its awfully effective on his weak broken heart.
“I’m not going to let you drown your problems. We are handling this like adults, like Tsumiki'd have wanted. Okkotsu-senpai defeated Geto, right? That Geto? Your Geto?” He asks as if he didn't already know the answer, as if it wasn't the name he was screaming in his sleep. And name dropping his sister, really? That’s dirty.
“You offered me help when I was in my lowest. You are my family, and I want to support you in turn,” Yuuta says, gripping his katana with resolve, prompting a grouchy huff from Megumi.
“He’s not your family.” Now Yuuta just pressed his lips firmly together, disagreeing, and as much as it was flattering to see them fighting on who takes on the babysitting duty, its getting annoying.
“Lis—“
“You know, they’re right,” Shoko suddenly says, grabbing his elbow and dragging him to the next room, students following them closely, “you’ve been betting everything on the next generation, now let them in, you fucker.” She drops with him together on the couch before opening the bottle in one swoop and thrusting the mug in his hands, filling it up. Yuuta awkwardly sat on the armchair next to them while Megumi went back to the office to drag his chair into the room to sit directly in front of Satoru. Little shit.
It had been a bit over half a years since Tsumiki has fallen asleep and never woke up, and Satoru has fully expected the grouch to distance himself. Her illness destroyed both of them more than Satoru knew was possible: it was bad enough for him to entertain thoughts of calling Suguru, for the first time in years. He didn’t, because what would he say? That his ward — a normie — was cursed somehow and The Strongest can’t save his own daughter? Please.
In a way, Megumi indeed closed off for a good while, but in a weird twist of fate he also turned into a mother hen all of a sudden. Not that Satoru’s complaining, really - as annoying as it is - it’s really cute to walk around with a grouchy teenager behind him. With the way Megumi quite literally could step and sit in his shadows without an issue made it all thebetter. This way Gojo could also keep a constant eye on him, which is better than hovering over the boy - Tsumiki took his flaring episodes of paranoia with grace, but Megumi never did.
Well, not much to be paranoid about at this point, with Suguru dead and Tsumiki asleep. Nothing’s left to worry about, really. Nothing left.
“Drink,” Shoko hisses, “nothing good ever comes from you thinking, Gojo.”
“You should call me Satoru,” he slurs in his cup, “you used to.” One of the two people left, he’d thought and wanted to cry.
“Last time I did you flinched like I’d hit you.”
“Well, you know. That’s what Suguru called me.”
“Because that’s your goddamn name, dipshit.” She groans at him, but doesn't pull away, leaning all her weight on his shoulder, forcing him to slide down for her convenience. “You’re so pathetic, I can’t believe it. About the time you should have showed it to the kids. Still, Satoru?”
“Always, Shoko.” He exhales and she hufs, tired but not surprised.
“I’m glad we can say his name out loud again, at least. Took him dying to bring us back, huh?” She gulped more, staring away, and Satoru wondered if he should do some sort of… um… speech? Or something? Is that what people do on funerals? He’d never been.
The boys watched them warily, carefully, Yuuta especially. He’s gnawing at his upper lip, and Gojo gulps the alcohol to maybe stop himself from doing something dumb. It doesn't work.
“Stop that,” he complains, kicking at Yuuta’s shin, “not your fault Suguru was stupid. Going to buy you some skincare,” he grumbles, “you did great, kid. You won.” At that Shoko spitefully tugged Satoru’s blindfold off and Gojo grumbled into his cup, eyes flashing at her. He doesn’t need to have eyes open to see, but she’s always preferred glasses to the blindfold.
Tsumiki gifted him the blindfold, and Suguru — the glasses. He’s not giving away either. Tsumiki was also the to give him the undercut, then Megumi had forced him to sit still when it grew out, like he couldn't handle seeing Satoru without it. It always felt wrong to have long hair, not after Suguru.
“Have you been pining for ten whole years?” Megumi asks, more surprised than teasing or mean, with his eyes opened wide.
“Nine.” Satoru corrected with a teacher’s voice and Shoko jabbed him in the stomach at that. His cursed energy flares uncontrollably and he willes it to stop. The least it could to is bring Infinity back up, making Ieiri mad, or, worse, attack her instinctively. This is why Satoru doesn’t drink. “Get your facts straight!”
“Nothing about you is straight, Satoru.” Megumi huffs, before trying to gentle his expression, but looking constipated more than anything. “I’m sorry it happened that way.”
“We were going to go on a date just after Amanai,” Satoru blurts out, unprompted, embarrassed, “fuck, you’re not supposed to know that.” He tugged at his hair, and Shoko turned to him, pinning him to the couch with her legs on his lap.
“Let it out, I heard that’s good practice.” She nods to him solemnly, together with the kids. Damn them.
“Fuck you, Shoko,” he shudders, “you know we went to Okinawa, right? Stayed in one hotel room, all nine yards. He kissed me, and we’re going to go on a date after all the bullshit with A—“ he gulped more vermouth for courage, to stop his voice from shaking, “Amanai, we were going to go on a proper date. You know he wanted to do everything correctly, nothin’ out of order, refused to even fuck me,” he laughs, hollow and broken, “we didn’t, of course. I fucked up, and he refused to even look at me—“ Shoko interrupts him, breath smelling of alcohol, but a spark of rage in her eyes.
“Shut the fuck up, Satoru—“
“—you told me to open up!”
“Yeah, but you’re fucking wrong!” He staggered away from the volume of her voice, but Shoko only leaned closer into his space, spilling vermouth on his expensive couch. “You died! There was so much blood, Satoru! You died and that changed you and he didn’t like that,” she heaves in between her breaths, “and he had the right not to. But he was in love with the boy who died, and you deserve better than that. Suguru made his own choices. You took that experience and chose to do better for others than what happened to you. What use is that huge ego of yours if you don’t take pride in what you do?” She hisses and somehow it settles something inside Satoru, bringing an awkward smile to his face. Its never going to heal, probably, but she was there. She saw it all, its good to have another opinion. Honestly, it was probably the most they spoke in the last five years.
“Gee, thanks, Shoko, I love you too.” She huffs, not answering, and Megumi carefully looks between them before asking:
“I was always wondering if you saw him during those years you were taking care of us.” Shoko takes another sip, side-eyeing him, and Satoru groans. Is this a public execution now?
“Can you imagine what he would say if he knew about Tsumiki?” Megumi takes a shuddering breath and they all quieted down. Satoru wonders just who told the kid about Geto and recent events, and just how much. “I wanted to, but thankfully I had gremlins to take care of.”
“You still do, even more now.” Shoko needles him, pouring him more. He grimaces, but complies. He glances around the room, Six Eyes trailing around, and freezes at the unusually determined look on Yuuta’s face.
“Kid, relax, you’re going to give yourself a migraine.” He would know, Gojos are all susceptible to a fun range of mental health problems. It's all fun and games and curses until you realize some things just fragments of your own imagination.
“Has anyone here got a lighter?” Shoko asks with a sigh, and Satoru sends Blue to open the window. It lands almost right, taking out half of the glass, letting in the snow. Whoops.
“That’s why I’m here,” Megumi hisses.
“We’ll be fine, Infinity is warm.”
“We both know that’s bullshit, dad.” Satoru gasps just as Megumi flushes, and Shoko staggers forward, supported only by Satoru’s hands around her. He could count on one hand the amount of time Megumi actually called him that, and every one felt like a blessing.
“Give your nice aunt the lighter you keep on you, kiddo,” she says, “c’mon, give it back. I chucked the one Suguru gave me into the fire.” Gojo gasps around his mug.
“Have you been corrupting my son?!”
“As if there’s anything to corrupt,” Megumi huffs before he puts his hand to the floor to sink it into the shadow and tugs out a simple silver lighter. “Here.” Gojo thinks back to Shoko’s words. Should he also get rid of the glasses, of everything that he’d stashed in his closet, stolen from Suguru’s dorm room? It’s what he should do. But fuck. Not today.
“So, what’s gotten into you, kid?” Satoru turns back to Yuuta now that Shoko’s craving’s taken care of, again confronted with a determined look. He wanted to change the topic from Suguru, but this suddenly feels like a bad idea.
“I love you, Gojo-sensei,” the boy didn’t even stutter, oh god, “you changed my life, and I want to return the favor. Please let us support you,” he’s so awfully honest and earnest it almost makes Satoru throw up, but does make his cursed energy spike. Infinity instinctively snaps back into place, and Shoko falls away from him, laughing. Even Megumi snickers, while Yuuta pinches his lips in thought.
“You’re certainly a Gojo,” Ieiri wheezes, “this kid just adopted you, ‘Toru!” Satoru groans.
“Kid, listen—“
“No,” Yuuta immediately cuts him off, “you work too much, and take too little. It’s the New Years soon, let’s celebrate it together. Is there someone from your clan you want to see, maybe your family? You deserve good things,” he presses, scarily determined, and Satoru wonders then if maybe that’s how Suguru felt when he was all over him from morning till night. Did he feel overbearing? Yuuta’s endearing despite everything, but Satoru isn't a good judge what's healthy or nor. It feels good to have someone be so honest about how they feel. Megumi made a face, but a second later nodded:
“That’s a good idea. I’ll ask aunt Ai and Nanami-san,” his phone slips from the shadows and Shoko immediatelly slithers back into his lap when Satoru finally wrestles Infinity under control.
"Ai? You've taken him to the Gojos?" Satoru grimaces.
"Had to, you were too busy to babysit. But Ai's alright, we're not related actually. She's taking care of the clan bullshit I don't want to."
"So we can get everyone together in the Gojo home," Megumi confirms.
“I have missions, we can’t do that.” He protests, but Yuuta just blinks at him.
“How many missions do you have? Per day?” Satoru hums, scratching the back of his head. He needs another haircut.
“Depends? Around thirty, usually? If the situation’s that bad, I teleport there, but that’s the last resort. They wouldn’t leave me alone if they knew I don’t get tired and can travel continents, you know?” A wide and plastic smile appears on Yuuta’s face, and the boy nods.
“I see. Please stop doing them.”
“What? Yuuta, a lot of them are special grades, no one else can deal with—“
“I think what the boy’s saying is that you’re one man,” Shoko chimes, “fucking hell, Satoru, you’re letting them get away with too much.”
“I don—“
“You do,” Megumi intervenes, “especially after Tsumiki was cursed.”
“You all suck.” Satoru groans, letting himself fall further into Shoko, dragging the blindfold back on. Whatever. They’re going to forget about it all in a couple of days. He’s The Strongest, there are things only he can do, and there is no way to work around it. Even if he’s on top of his missions, there’s always more. It’s better than sleep, honestly. In his dreams there’s always Tsumiki and Suguru, and the twins that were around him. In his dreams his family’s all together, his mother isn’t dead, wasn’t killed by him.
Contrary to his thoughts, they absolutely do not forget.
****
“What are your intentions with Gojo-sensei?”
“Are you his family, boy?”
“And what if i am?”
“I intend on courting the Six Eyes. You should know that, brat. This is just the start.” Megumi and Yuuji both stare at Sukuna’s mouth on Yuuji’s hand, too stunned to speak.
“I gotta call Okkotsu.”