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Chapter Text

2023

"That bastard said what!?"

"You heard me."

"Did you tell him no!?"

"Of course I did."

"Why would he ask you of all people!?" 

"I don't know, and I don't care," Megumi sips his bear.

Nobara leans in close, stares him dead in the eyes, and calls him out on his bullshit, "That's a lie; you're a persnickety bitch; you'd want to know why."

Of course, he wondered why and figured he was experiencing some kind of crisis after offing his best friend. Its been five years, but that's not his business. Remorse, whatever the reason, he needed to lose his number and leave him alone. 

He will not fall for his ploy.

Megumi's lip curls into a sneer, "I don't care. Fuck that guy." 

"Usually, I would agree, but I'm curious," Nobara rubs her chin and speculates. "A family like his would have already arranged matches for marriage. But considering his personality, I don't think he's filial enough to abide by that or even consider it." 

That's what he thought.

Gojo Satoru didn't suffer fools. He was a force of nature who didn't adhere to the rules and was a wave of change that was forcing their archaic government kicking and screaming into a Renaissance.

Megumi can't imagine him obliging his clan elders.

"Maybe he likes you, and this is the only way he can get your attention," Nobara muses.

Megumi's filthy glare makes her cackle.

"Hear me out! It would explain why he picked on you during the Goodwill sister school exchange. Why he always tried to work with you on assignments, why he was always in your space or tried to casually touch you. Why he was socially challenged when you have so much in common and would resort to teasing you instead of acting like a normal person..."

The more Nobara speculates, the more incredulous Megumi feels. 

"He was in love with his best friend," Megumi refutes, skepticism acute. That torrid love affair is something they watched from afar with popcorn and shitty wine. 

"That's true, but he also liked you," Nobara has made her conclusion, and there is no changing her mind. "I think you blew his stupid alpha mind, especially when you kicked his ass." 

Megumi can't help the smile that curls his lips, that was a good day indeed. 

"If he's serious and desperate, he won't take no for an answer," Nobara warns. 

"Then I'll kick his ass again," Megumi says mutinously.

"You sure about that?" It's Nobara's turn to be dubious, "You don't even practice jujutsu anymore."

"I'm the reason he reached enlightenment. If I brought him to near death, then I can do it again," Megumi averts his eyes. "Probably."

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that," Nobara says, recalling the damage and chaos of that day. "You both destroyed half the Kyoto campus."

"I have no regrets."

Why would he? That day was a watershed. 

"I'll ask Shoko what's going on with Gojo and let you know. If he asks again, hear him out, it might be entertaining."

Megumi already blocked his number. 

Chapter Text

Megumi pauses, takes off his glasses, and pinches the bridge of his nose. 

He reaches for his mug of coffee and pauses. Is this his third or fourth cup? He's supposed to limit his caffeine consumption but needs it to concentrate.

He takes a long sip and looks at the computer screen.

"Shit." 

He's mixed up his assessment of two new patients. Even with his notes on one screen and the neurologist's notes on the other, he's managed to mess up.

He needs a break; he left a pack of cigarettes in his desk drawer, another vice, but one he's successfully broken. One cigarette won't hurt; he can reverse the damage. That thought process is why he picked up the habit during his sophomore year of uni. 

He taps his fingers on desks and debates giving in to the temptation. 

If it's close to lunch, he can abscond and enjoy thirty to fifty minutes of relaxation, maybe even take a nap. 

What time is it?

Megumi checks the time and curses; he's only two hours into the work day and has four patients to meet, a pile of paperwork to complete, and 50 unread emails. 

He's exhausted, and the week has barely started. 

He contemplates the merits of crashing at his parents for another week; this week is proving to be as challenging as the last. 

--

He vetoes darkening his parents' doorstep. His mother will worry, and his father will squint and mutter something about his fishing buddy's alpha daughter, and maybe he should consider that date. Besides, they have a full house with the twins in and out over the weekends; Megumi flew the coop years ago. He can't rely on them to fill the loneliness.

"Taidama," he calls to an empty apartment.

In the genkan, he shrugs off his backpack and coat and places them into the closet; he removes his shoes and places them onto the shoe rack; he puts on his house slippers, opens the door, and steps into the home proper.

In the kitchen, he plops his plastic bag of konbini pre-made meals onto the counter, heads into the living room, throws himself unceremoniously onto the couch, and shouts into the couch cushion.

This is his daily routine.

Megumi wakes up early and returns home late into the evening or well into the night. 

He regrets moving from the private sector to the public sector; the pay was better, but the benefits outweighed the cons. That is until he was required to complete overtime without compensation.

Something gotta give; he can't keep this up.

Five, nearly six years into his career, and Megumi hates it. The enthusiasm and determination of his rookie years have worn off, and the satisfaction of helping a TBI patient improve cognitive functions, developing strategies to manage behavioral challenges, helping spouses, friends, and family understand the neurological condition of their loved one, and helping them create strategies to support them no longer fulfills him. 

People say to do what you love, and Megumi chose a career that intrigued him and had longevity.

He wonders if he should pivot into research.

A familiar weight settles on his head, and Megumi can't help but smile when he hears Gama's trill.

Sometimes, he wonders if he made a mistake by walking away from jujutsu and from his paternal family. When he looks back, it feels like a fever dream.

Gama's appearance signals the arrival of Kuro and Shiro, his companions since childhood, but then again, Megumi has always had his shadows, some more than others. 

They are followed by Rabbit Escape, and soon Megumi finds himself in a pile of fur, cuddled by the warm presence of his lupine shikigami and the twitching mass of cloned rabbits. 

He's neglected his shikigami like he's neglected himself, this weekend he'll visit the Zen'in and-

Megumi abruptly sits up. Shiro yelps as it falls onto the floor, and the clones move en masse to accommodate him. 

Kuro is on guard, a low growl beginning in its chest; it faces the door and crouches low, ready to pounce. It grows in size, and as Megumi stands, the clones writhe and rise into a giant wall in Leporidae form.

Shiro joins its twin, stepping into its shadow, melding into its skin. They transform, bones cracking, flesh squelching as they shift from quadruped form to bipedaled, bicolored werewolf-like form.

Danger is afoot.

The presence is looming and muted but has an extraordinary weight on the senses. Megumi's hackles are raised, gooseflesh spreads across his skin, and he swallows his suddenly dry throat.

Something wicked this way comes.

The doorbell rings.

Megumi takes a fortifying breath and walks towards the intercom. The screen reveals a sight that leaves him cursing; he presses the button and lets his tirade of creative insults be heard.

"That's one hell of a greeting."

It's a curse to ward off evil.

"Hi, Megumi."

It doesn't work.

---

"Weren't you taught basic etiquette? You're supposed to be invited in," Megumi grouses.

"Yes, but evasive maneuvers are needed. You're a hard man to contact."

A conversation with an idiot with a god complex isn't something he expected or wanted. 

"What do you want?"

"I think you know," he says insouciantly. He makes himself at home him in his space, looking at the pictures on his wall. Petting the head of Shiro, the shikigami licks his hand, and Gojo chuckles, scratching behind its ear. The goddamn traitor. 

"Well, didn't you hear the consensus," is Megumi's ornery reply, "the answer is no, but if you need to hear it from the source, hell no." 

"I've heard," he says dismissively, "but you haven't heard my terms, conditions, and incentives."

"I don't care."

Gojo looks at him over his shoulder. "Liar."

He forgot what it was like to be the focus of those eyes. He wishes he would put that stupid blindfold back on. He forgot how jarring it was to be in his presence.

There's something uncanny about him. His skin is too pale, his hair is unnatural, his features too symmetrical. 

He is perfection.

When he first met him, he thought something wasn't right, something did not belong. There were moments when he didn't react the way Megumi expected, no, it was as if he found him amusing, had a vague tolerance for someone insignificant, beneath him and his all-seeing and all-knowing eyes. It was worse when he saw his eyes, the eyes are the window to the soul, and Gojo Satoru's eyes showed the refracted cosmos, humanity's greatest fear, the unknown black mass and distant stars, everything and nothing.

So distracted by the sight of that singular eye and his side profile, he forgets to bristle and take offense.

"You do care; you're curious," He says. This time Megumi does retort. 

He scoffs, "I don't, don't delude yourself."

Gojo smirks and Megumi catches sight of a dimple. That would be considered an imperfection by some, but it adds to his appeal. He gets it now (he always got it).

What the fuck.

If he's ruminating on Gojo's looks, then his dry spell needs to be broken ASAP.

Should he call his ex?

Would that make him pathetic?

Probably.

"What's so important you can't pay attention to me?"

Gojo is suddenly in his space, inches from him, pointer finger under his chin. Megumi freezes, some animal fear taking hold of him. He hasn't  been this close to him in years; it catches him off guard, and Megumi is drawn to his pale pink lips. Does he use lipgloss? 

Gojo takes the opportunity to stroke his jaw with his thumb.

"Well, Megumi, will you hear me out?"

His voice is as sweet as honey. 

He smells just as sweet.

It's maddening. 

It's a trap just like his looks.

Megumi inhales sharply, then reaches out to slap his hand away. Gojo catches it, and Megumi glowers.

"I'm not interested." 

The alpha strokes the delicate skin of his inner wrist, "You aren't? Then why am I still here?"

Megumi tries to slap away his hand with the other, but Gojo catches that one as well. 

"You're a loser who doesn't understand that no is a complete sentence."

Gojo doesnt react the way he expects; he doesnt take the bait, steady to the course.

"I don't think so," The alpha traces the fate line, then the heart line of his left hand, and continues the maddening rhythm of the other. 

Megumi shivers. 

"I think you're curious; you want to know just in case you can help." They both watch as he traces characters onto the sensitive skin of his palm. "No matter how prickly or reticent you were, you were still kind enough to lend a helping hand. That's how I remember you. You never really changed, did you?" Gojo looks at him through thick, grey lashes. 

Megumi thought he had fortified his resolve. He hates these moments of gravitas; he prefers his village idiot persona. He did this in private conversations when they were adolescents in their age of youth. Megumi didn't like it then and doesn't like it now. It reveals a side of Gojo Satoru that Megumi would have liked. 

Did like.

It was fleeting, hidden beaneath his playful and irreverent demeanor. 

Megumi thought it was a fluke, that their exchanges were a deception.

It appears that this side wasn't a fluke.

Gojo Satoru has layers.

"All right, tell me."

Chapter Text

"So you agree?"

Megumi is distracted by the words he etches into the skin of his palm. It's nonsensical: green, keep you, opportunities, halcyon, missed, floral, dreams, spring, want-

"Yes," He snaps to attention, a touch impatient.

It's late. He needs to eat, shower, and go to sleep. This is the most excitement he'll experience this week. He wants it over with so he can ruminate over it, over-intellectualize his reaction, and call his therapist to schedule an emergency session.

"You can also stop touching me. You still have boundary issues. Has anyone ever taught you bad touch or good touch?" he snarks and disentangles himself from the alpha's hold.

Gojo's grip tightens, but he lets go and ignores his comment. He checks his watch, some expensive fixture on his wrist; he remembers asking Gojo about the different watches he sported, and the alpha's enthusiastic spiel on his hobby, and how he shared the interest with his grandparent. It was a rare moment when Gojo left behind the pretense of frivolity; it was cute.

Ew.

Maybe he's experiencing some kind of cognitive dysfunction. His fond memories of the alpha are few, and over the last decade and half, he's rarely found himself matriculating in and out of the alpha's social sphere.

"It's late." Megumi suddenly yawns as if to emphasize Gojo's statement. "Let's meet this weekend and talk."

Megumi is already shaking his head before he finishes talking. He doesn't want to spend any more time in Gojo's presence than necessary. This entire encounter is unsettling. He'd rather prolong than delay it and have the alpha out of his space.

His apartment is his sanctuary, even if it has increasingly become his prison.

He yawns again and covers his mouth.

"No, tell me now," he says tiredly.

By this time, he's usually unwinding, but Gojo demands his full attention; he doesn't want to be caught unaware.

He tuts, "You're exhausted and work really long hours. I don't want to burden you when your plate is already full."

But he waited and pushed his suit when he knew Megumi was likely vulnerable and likely to capitulate.

How devious.

"That's creepy; how do you know my work schedule?"

"I have my sources," He answers enigmatically.

"Of course, you do," Megumi says dubiously. He doesn't take no for an answer; he's a dauntless force of nature. Megumi should have known an unstoppable force would never leave him alone, and he wonders when he stopped being an immovable object. "I'm visiting family this weekend, so you might as well get it over with."

Pale pink lips flatten then become a moue of discontent. He's pouting, a return to form, thank fuck, Megumi can't take one more moment-

"Don't make me beg, I will."

Green pools widen.

That statement causes a visceral reaction within him. He can't decide on embarrassment or...something else.

He would beg pretty, so prettily, especially with how he kneels before him.

Megumi internally slaps himself. He decides it's the presence and scent of an alpha, not Gojo himself. Never Gojo, absolutely not. He needs TLC, so he sets an appointment with his vibrator.

"Please," he says sweetly.

Megumi suppresses a shudder, his eyes flicker over his form, and he subconsciously presses his thighs together. Gojo dwarfs him...instead of a vibrator, perhaps his largest dildo will do?

Hold up.

What the fuck.

Is he tired? Is something cognitively wrong with him? Should he ask his colleagues to run a battery of tests on him?

"Don't," Megumi says tersely. "We'll do it your way."

Gojo smiles like the sun appearing after a long, cloudy day.

Megumi stares.

He places his hands on each side of him and leans forward, laughing euphorically. Megumi shrinks into the couch, Rabbit Escape forming more clones to create a barrier between them.

Gojo's winsome smile doesn't falter even as he watches his reaction with contemplative eyes. "Thank you!"

Megumi defaults to his usual setting and glowers. "You got what you wanted; now get out."

"Megumi, your acquiescence is half the battle," he says smoothly.

Perhaps it's temptation, insanity, or his competitive nature that never backs down from a challenge, but he can't help but ask.

"What's the other half?"

"That's for me to know you and you to find out," He teases.

The bastard.

--

He unblocks his number.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

2021

Piercing green eyes, a delicate beauty that has always made his breath hitch. 

It's Megumi.

He forgot him; how could he forget him?

Megumi bows awkwardly, but he's leaving. His eyes trail to the stranger leading him. He's passing by with his hand intertwined with someone else's, being led through the crowd, his presence as ephemeral as the last.

"Satoru-san?" A familiar voice implores and Satoru winces. He's not alone, either.

2023

"Gojo, answer the question."

"Satoru," He corrects and directs. "Order something first."

He chose this place based on Nobara's feedback via Shoko. It's formal but intimate. Reservations are difficult to come by, and party sizes are limited. The illusion of privacy is provided by the spacious table arrangements. 

"You're stalling," Megumi accuses.

"I'm not," he denies and insists, "order something first. I want you fed and watered before we discuss our liaison."

"Is that what you're calling it?" Megumi asks dubiously.

"What?" He asks cheekily, "You didn't like my proposal? I was testing the waters."

Megumi huffs, eyes flickering over the menu, "I used to think you were just a pretty face with an empty head. You're much more cunning than I thought."

"You think I'm pretty?" He coyly bats his lashes, "Tell me more."

Megumi rolls his eyes.

The waiter comes back, solicitous and genial. He takes their orders, and when he leaves, Megumi regards him critically. The omega is a scientist, his curiosity is what led him here, and Satoru exploits that and his natural goodwill. 

"A marriage proposal to a relative stranger? How did you expect me to react?"

"Stranger?" He questions irreverent and wily as ever, "We're not strangers; we're long lost acquaintances that lost touch." 

Megumi shakes his head and chuckles. "Some things never change."

"What? I still make you laugh? That'll never change," He grins.

"I wasn't laughing with you; more often, I was laughing at you," Megumi points out dryly.

"So? It made you smile; that's all that matters."

Megumi looks heavenward, another smile threatening to curl his lips. "You're dangerous."

"You catch more flies with honey," he replies shamelessly. 

Megumi huffs and mutters, "Where's my glass of wine?"

"Do you need liquid courage? You should enter negotiations with a clear head," Satoru advises pertly.

"And what are we negotiating?" Megumi asks, amused.

Matters of the heart.

"Marriage," He finally addresses the topic, and Megumi leans forward, interest piqued. The floor is open for questions.

"Why do you want to get married?" 

"I want to be husband. I want to be a dad."

Sometimes the truth is the better weapon. He lies, he is a liar, but his lies are rarely tall tales. They are an omission of insignificant or critical details, but in this, he tells the truth. 

His words are chosen carefully, those are the roles he wants. He wants to be someone's other half, he wants to be someone's lover, their life partner, he wants to be a father, wants to raise his children with someone he trusts intrinsically, wants to experience every milestone, wants to guide his children into adulthood and beyond, he wants, he wants, he wants.

Satoru is greedy.

Megumi is not particularly emotive, but he has seen more sides to him in these two encounters than he has in the brief glimpses he's seen of him in the last decade and a half.

A slight flush blooms across his lovely features, his pink lips part, and his green, green eyes widen.

Words should be measured, sentences meaningful and convey intentions. Satoru curated every statement to be impactful.

"It's proving to be more difficult than I anticipated."

"May I ask why?" Megumi says slowly.

"Yes, it's pertinent information. My family wants me to get married, I usually don't care what they think or want, but I agree."

Megumi's brow furrows, "What about an arranged marriage?"

"Strangers are hard to trust," friends even more so, the soul of his soul ripped his heart asunder. "I'm not interested in what it entails."

"And what does it entail?" 

"Duty, a stringent marriage contract, separate lives, children raised by my family, a cold, meaningless life," Satoru candidly lists, "If I can't be a husband, I want to be a father."

"You can still be a dad without marriage or a mate," Megumi points out.

"I know, but if my children can have both parents, I'd rather take that course of action," He retorts. 

Megumi ruminates on his words, "What about divorce? This would be a temporary arrangement."

Temporary?

"We'd co-parent." He is a liar. 

"How would that look?" 

Satoru tells him. 

"You have a response for everything," Megumi comments, "You've thought this through."

He inclines his head.

"Why me?" 

Now, that is the question.

"Why not?" He asks nonchalantly.

"Don't prevaricate," Megumi says warily. 

"Remember second year? I trusted you then; I trust you now."

"Ugh, I can't believe I let you talk me into that," Megumi bemoans and covers his face with his hands. 

He smiles softly, "You had fun."

"I did, kicking your ass was cathartic! Now, I'm letting you talk me into this!"

"Am I succeeding?" He says hopefully.

Megumi sighs, "Yes."

He's a liar, he is a liar, but for the first time in years, his heart feels full. 

Their food arrives and Satoru considers the night a success.

Chapter Text

"Don't overthink it," Gojo tells him before he can leave the car. "It's a favor."

Megumi's warm, full of great food and quality wine, but he's still cognizant. He squints and points an accusing finger, "You said that last time! I'm onto you. Your favors are Faustian deals!"

"You wound me, Megumi," He clutches his heart. "I would never steer you wrong."

Megumi is all skepticism. 

Gojo laughs, "This time we both benefit from it. Sleep on it, text me your decision, and I'll send the contract. You can make amendments, and we'll discuss the finer details."

Megumi looks down at his lap and tightens the grip on his clutch. "It's a lot to consider," he hates how vulnerable he sounds.   

Gojo carefully unclenches his fingers and intertwines them with his, he slowly strokes the back of Megumi's hand. Megumi looks at him, but Gojo stares at the joined hands. "I know. Think about it, take as long as you need. Call me if you have questions or concerns. I'll listen and try to find a solution."

Megumi might find him terribly seductive, achingly sweet, and a persistent nuisance, but even he can recognize the maturity that age has brought him.

"Okay, Gojo."

"Satoru," he corrects, "We're the same age, call me by my name."

"Satoru," Megumi repeats quietly.

And at the utterance of his name, Gojo Satoru looks like he wants to eat him alive.

Megumi is quite willing to let him bite.

---

This night will leave an impression on him. It was designed to convey a poignant message and support the alpha's proposition. 

However, some part of Megumi doesn't need any persuasion, it's ready to throw caution to the wind and accept.

He's been looking for an escape.

Megumi goes home.

It is where he began and where he will end.

The Zen'in ancestral home is officially located in the Kyoto Prefecture. It is a vast stretch of hills, mountains, and deep forests broken up by streams, lakes, and ponds. Very few structures dot the land; those that do are kept in pristine shape: two shrines that carry the lingering miasma of their ancestors' cursed energy, the compound, outbuildings, and singular residences. 

It is veiled, it exists anchored and parallel to the earth. It is a feat of genius created by two former disciples of Tengen. 

The Sengoku period saw the destruction of the Gojo shrine and the swift retribution of their enshrined ancestor. Disaster upon disaster occurred until he was bound once again. It was a time of constant conflict, shifting alliances, and various factions. The Zen'in did not escape unscathed; their ancestral home was burned down, not once but thrice. Jujutsu clans are shrouded in mysticism; when something goes wrong, the blame could easily be placed on them. War is profitable; it eliminates political rivals and enemies and often wipes the board clean. The Zen'in happened to be fodder to those who were allies. 

The Edo period saw a change. 

Two disciples of Tengen met on the grounds of her shrine and monastery and forged a bond. These two took the teachings of Tengen and created inventions that hadn't been seen since the introduction of the Tenets of Tengen in the Heian period. They worked within the bounds of jujutsu, never straying from the path of enlightenment, but explored its realms of possibility. One of their creations is the Jikukan, a solution to the upheaval their families constantly faced. 

It's a shame that many of their innovations were lost or purposefully destroyed by the time the Showa era began, and led to the resurgence of jujutsu purity and elitism.

The Zen'in clan kept only what supported their narrative.

Megumi steps foot onto ancestral land, and it greets him like an old friend. The shadows lengthen and crawl across the great expanse to reach him. Megumi's shadow shivers in response and balloons. Each of his shikigami crawls out of its dark depths, forming from viscous liquid, taking shape, gaining bone, tissue, muscle, skin, and fur.

It is a spectacle. 

It is embarrassing; he prefers to release his shikigami deep in the depths of the forest, or near one of the larger lakes. Then visit the shrines, pray, present offerings, and head to the family compound to greet his uncle. 

"Megumi."

He internally winces.

His aging uncle is not impressed by his appearance, his visit is long overdue, and judging by the response of his shikigami and the fluctuating curse energy that pervades this place are in agreeance. 

"Uncle."

"You've come." Megumi nods. "At last." He internally winces again.

"I've come home."

The welcoming party his uncle gathered is not too pleased by his arrival, but Megumi doesn't care; he is heir. 

----

A gossamer cloud of light orbs surrounds them. They pulse with warmth; they pulsate in time with Round Deer's four spherical eyes.

"This isn't necessary," His uncle grunts.

Megumi ignores him; RCT cannot reverse aging, but it can increase a person's longevity. Megumi uses this on his loved ones, that is his only exception. 

It makes him a hypocrite. 

"You're still hard-headed."

"And you're not taking care of yourself. Why isn't your son looking after you?"

Zen'in Jinichi never set aside his wife or remarried. Neither did he bring in a concubine. After multiple miscarriages, he and his wife bore a child, a miracle after so much tragedy and disappointment. But the child turned out to have a heavenly restriction that was more curse than blessing; it was as if the gods were punishing them for not accepting their infertility. Megumi's cousin spent his short life in agonizing pain, cherished by the parents who desperately wanted him. Life is cruel, but the gods are crueler.

"That boy?" Jinichi scoffs, "He's too busy goofing around and being a menace."

His uncle sounds dismissive, but Megumi hears the fond undertone.

Eventually, he and his wife adopted a distant cousin, a boy with an RCT ability. At the age of thirteen, he shows great promise, but Jinichi stubbornly refuses to name him heir. Despite tradition and family rules, Megumi remains the uncontested successor, and his obstinate uncle claims that his cousin is a child for him and his wife, free of the politics and clan upheaval.

Megumi imagines the shitshow that will occur upon Zen'in Jinichi's death, he has every intention of abdicating his position and nominating Zen'in Naoya. A child shouldn't bear the sins of the father.

"That sounds about right. I was the same at that age."

Jinichi scoffs again, "You were worse."

"I was not," he refutes poorly.

"Malicious compliance? Does that ring a bell?" Jinichi says in disbelief.

"No idea what you're talking about," He denies.

"Shithead," His uncle says fondly, "What brings you home?"

Megumi's looking down the tunnel of a downward spiral. The release of his shikigami has left him feeling lighter than he has in months. He thinks he might practice jujutsu again. Is there a place in the Hei for him? He wants to quit his job, he wants a change, he's burned out. Gojo Satoru proposed a marriage contract. Megumi's turning thirty-four this year, he has no marriage prospects, dating is a thankless endeavor, and he has always dreamed of being a mother. Gojo Satoru looks like he wants to eat him alive, so maybe he can become a mother? He still can't stand that guy, at least he's easy on the eyes. However, five years is a long time to dedicate to building a family based on mutual interest and convenience. Love? What about love? It's a marriage contract, get your head out of the clouds, and get back to reality.

"I'm getting married," he blurts out.

Zen'in Jinichi's eyes widen in shock, then wonder. He smiles, and it's full of happiness and pride. "You are? Congratulations."

Shit.

He despairs, then he recalls the hunger in Gojo Satoru's eyes.

Well, fuck it. He was going to say yes anyway.

Chapter Text

The vibration echoes loudly.

Blackout curtains cover every glass surface facing the exterior. A head abruptly pops up from a tangled mess of sheets and blankets, and ominous humming fills the room.  

Blue pierces the dark.

They flicker rapidly, then clench.

Satoru groans.

Sleep isn't necessary, but it is no longer a luxury; he can indulge. 

He yawns and stretches, arms sliding across the cool sheets. The bed is cold and empty.

The vibration echoes loudly again.

Satoru reaches for his mobile and closes his eyes against the sudden harsh light. He blinks rapidly and slowly reads the name on the screen. His heart begins to pound, rattling loudly in its cage, and he hurriedly unlocks the screen.

Megumi: Yes.

Megumi: Send over the contract.

Megumi: Good morning.

Satoru grins widely, and he laughs in disbelief, in victory, in happiness. 

Me: Good morning! ( ´ ▽ ` )/

Today is a good day.

---

2005

"She's pretty," Nobara proclaims. There's a keen glint in her eyes. Megumi recognizes that look, she's on the hunt.

"She's competition."

Nobara ignores his comment, "Do you think she's an omega? She's petite and cute."

"She's competition," He repeats just to annoy her.

Nobara glares, "Me-gu-mi, get with the program!"

Megumi rolls his eyes, "Does her secondary gender matter?"

Female alphas are a delight, but Megumi usually prefers their male counterparts. 

"No, it doesn't. I'm gonna talk to her, come with?"

But she's up and dragging him along before he can say no.

Nobara sits opposite her target and shoves Megumi into the seat next to her. "Ooph!" 

At the table, conversation comes to a bemused end, and Nobara places her elbows on the table, cups her face, quirks her lips, and says, "Hi."

There's silence, then the girl points to herself and says in bewilderment, "Hi?" 

"You're so pretty."

The girl is floored; Megumi almost feels bad for her. Nobara's smile widens.

"Um."

One of the girl's companions stifles a laugh. 

The target is unfamiliar with Nobara's game. 

"What's your skincare routine?" 

"Er, the usual?"

"I use lightweight products. Do you use sunscreen?"

"I do," the girl is still off-kilter.

"That explains why your skin is so smooth and even. How does it feel to be god's favorite?"

The other friend, an alpha, there's no ifs, ands, or buts about it with that shoulder width. Oh, wow, Megumi has to do a double take, he's really-

The alpha guffaws loudly, "I think-"

The dark-haired friend, an omega by Megumi's estimate, his features are delicate. He elbows the alpha sharply and hisses, "Shut up!"

"I wouldn't say I'm a favorite, maybe blessed by genetics," the girl finally gains her bearings and leans forward, placing her hands on the table, mirroring Nobara's posture.

"Close enough," Nobara quips, "I'm Kugisaki Nobara, and if I were as pretty as you, I'd be unbearable."

The girl laughs helplessly, embarrassed and flattered. She says, "I'm Ieiri Shoko, and, um, you're too cute to compare yourself."

The tow-haired friend gags. As an accessory to this scheme, er, wingman, Megumi glares his filthiest glare.

The idiot notices and raises two dark gray brows over dark, round shades. 

He's tempted to flip him off, but unnecessary hostility from the allies of the interested parties may impede relations. Megumi wants Nobara to succeed.

"Hi, Ieiri Shoko, thank you. You have a pretty name to match your pretty face," Nobara flirts shamelessly.

Ieiri Shoko blushes.

"Damn," the dark-haired friend mutters. 

Megumi silently applauds her.

---

The contract is sent via encrypted email, and a physical form is delivered via courier to his place of employment. There are two versions, the agreement between them and the official, legally binding contract.

The unofficial contract dictates their living arrangements, Megumi's monthly allowance (subject to change), household allotment (subject to change), the number of children they'll have (negotiable), duration of marriage (negotiable), social obligations, physical intimacy (negotiable, but heats and ruts are mandatory for reproduction), dispute resolution, travel plans, restrictions their relationship and on others. Gojo's latest health records, a request for Megumi's, a list of fertility specialists, genectic testing, the marriage registration forms, and the list of its required documents.    

The official document includes property division, spousal support, child support and custody, financial disclosure, and estate planning. This is incomplete and requires information from Megumi. 

It is comprehensive and detailed and satisfies his fastidious nature.

Megumi exhales and waves the smoke out of his face.

It's generous, overwhelmingly so. Megumi can only imagine the thought that went into this, and he's the recipient of that single-minded focus.

He doesn't know if he should be flattered or alarmed. 

There's so much to consider.

He puts out his cigarette, takes out his mobile, and texts Gojo.

Me: I'll call you after work.

---

2005

"Shoko, this is Fushiguro Megumi."

He looks at their held hands.

He has to hand it to Nobara, she works fast.

Megumi inclines his head. "Hi." 

"Hi, Fushiguro-kun," Shoko greets back.

"Call me Megumi," He says amiably. 

"Shoko," She reciprocates.

"Eh!?" A loud, grating voice shouts. It's the tow-haired alpha from yesterday. "Is that Shoko fraternizing with the enemy!?"

The idiot rounds on Shoko and Nobara and then points to their held hands. 

"Traitor!" He shouts.

Megumi wonders if he should leave, sanity has obviously left the vicinity.

"Fraternizing with the enemy?" Shoko says mildly, "I'm spending time with my girlfriend." 

"Hah? Girlfriend!? It's only been two days!?" 

"What? Jelly?" She jeers. 

"Me!?" He points to himself, "Never, impossible, I'm Gojo Satoru!" 

"You're an idiot," Shoko admonishes, "where's Suguru? I need the functioning part of the brain cell."

"Am not!" He crosses his arms and childishly sticks out his tongue. 

"Where's your better half? You're making a bad first impression."

"Ah," he taps his lips, "you have a point." There's not a contrite bone in his body; his body language screams arrogance. "Gojo Satoru," He bows with a flourish, "Shoko's best friend, nice to meet you~"

Megumi is not impressed, another knothead. 

"Kugisaki Nobara," Nobara reintroduces herself, and points to Megumi, "Fushiguro Megumi."

The eyes, the eyes that are the window to the soul, appear and Megumi is pinned with eyes that reflect the refracted cosmos. 

He's mesmerized.

Chapter Text

The commute home is tedious.

He deviates from his normal routine.

The train is crowded, as usual, so he sits in the omega-only passenger car. He typically avoids this option. Megumi is statuesque and wears a face mask and hospital scrubs. Without his scent declaring his secondary, he often gets mistaken for a female alpha or a slender male beta. It's an inconvenience he tries to circumvent, but it's difficult to navigate others' heuristics. 

He taps his foot, but it's loud in the otherwise silent train carriage. He stops but finds another nervous tick to release his frenetic energy, and silently counts down from one hundred. 

He stops by the local konbini to pick up dinner, but pauses, hand hovering over the selection of instant meals and bento. 

He'll order take-away. 

The sooner he gets home, the better.

"Taidama," he calls to an empty apartment.

In the genkan, he shrugs off his backpack and coat and places them into the closet; he removes his shoes and places them onto the shoe rack; he puts on his house slippers, opens the door, and steps into the home proper.

This is his daily routine.

But there's a difference; he has something to look forward to.

Megumi puts in an order from his favorite restaurant, then goes through his contact and hovers over Gojo's name.

Should he shower first? Is he delaying the inevitable? Doesn't he want answers? Doesn't he have questions?

He calls.

Gojo answers after the second ring. "You answered," Megumi says stupidly.

The alpha chuckles, "You called."

"I did," he mumbles, "How are you?"

"I'm well," his voice is a balm to Megumi's monotonous day. Subconsciously he feels the tension that's accumulated over the day diminish iota by iota. "How was your day? Did you get home okay?"

"It was.." Overwhelming, pointless, tedious, tiring. He could fix them, he could fix them all, he knows more now, he has the knowledge and the power, but that's against his code of ethics. He works within the bounds of science, within the limits of humanity. What he wants are human impossibilities made possible by a trick of genetics. He is tired, he wants something new. "It was a Monday," Gojo laughs in sympathy, and Megumi's lips quirk in response. "I did get home okay, thanks for asking."

"Did you eat?"

"No," Megumi replies, "I ordered out."

"Do you eat homemade meals?"

"When I visit my parents," Megumi says with self-deprecation.

"Have you tried a meal prep company?"

"The local konbini," he deadpans.

Was he always assiduous? Megumi only knows adolescent Gojo; anything he's heard over the years is second-hand information from similar friends and acquaintances. 

He tuts, "That'll change, I'll take care of you."

How long has he wanted to hear that?

He should be unnerved, but his thoughts, feelings, and instincts intersect. Some part of him melts; his lizard brain and its base needs relishing in the promise. Megumi regards it with vague disdain and repugnance. He's resigned to it; he welcomes it.

Megumi wonders if his reception is a call for help.

He needs to call his therapist.

He turns a gimlet eye to Gojo; why is he so considerate? Quite obviously, he has his own objective, but so does Megumi. Their mutual interest doesn't require Gojo acting like a mate; a companion will do.

"I don't think that's outlined in the contract," he points out dryly. A defense, a segue from banalities to the call's objective. 

"Then I'll add it," is Gojo's swift reply, "I want a harmonious marriage; your well-being is part of that."

"I can look after myself," Megumi firmly counters.

"But you don't have to," Gojo asserts.

"Why?" Megumi demands.

"Why not?" He glibly parries.
 
Megumi makes a noise of frustration.

"Are you looking for a hidden agenda? Hmm~," He lilts. "You won't find one. I'm very transparent about my wants and needs. I want to take care of you. What's wrong with that?"

It makes this more than a transactional relationship.

"You're not used to being taken care of, are you? Little Megumi, always putting others before himself."

He wants to hang up, he wants to shout, he wants him to stop. Gojo is stripping back the layers and exposing him. He doesn't want to be seen by him, by someone wholly unconnected to him. But Gojo has always cut deep to the heart of the bone.

His throat feels thick, he bites his lip, and tilts his head back when he feels the telltale burn from his eyes.

"Let me take care of you and return the favor on behalf of everyone else."

Megumi takes a shuddering breath and quietly utters, "Okay."

"Good," Gojo sounds satisfied, "Now, when do you want to get married?"

---

Megumi puts in his two week notice the next day.

Chapter Text

The workforce is not kind to mothers. Societal expectations pressure mothers to prioritize childcare and domestic labor. Though parental leave was amended and expanded, what is law is rarely put into practice. 

Megumi is lucky he was born three years after equal opportunity employment was enacted and lives in a period where suppressants are readily available without adverse effects. 

The discrimination is subtle and often emerges in pay gaps. He makes less than his alpha and beta counterparts, but more than his female beta and omega coworkers. 

If they can delay obeying the law and find a loophole to deprive Megumi of equal compensation, then Megumi can do so, too. He takes paid leave, and once it is approved, he submits his two-week notice.

He'll keep his health insurance until he talks to Gojo and is transferred to his. 

He gets the spiel that they cannot accept his resignation, but he doesn't care; he doesn't care. 

Who will take his caseload? Did he write detailed notes regarding his patients? This isn't fair to his coworkers. Why would he burden them? Was it the Chief Neuropsychologist's fault? Are you changing? Did you try to work things out? Are you changing career paths? Are you getting married? Are you pregnant? 

Megumi chooses himself.

He chose his career path for many reasons, one of which was a misplaced penance for an incident that was not his fault, but its end lies squarely at his feet. 

Megumi leaves work unburdened, his shoulders lighter than they've been in years.

He deviates from his routine and stops by the local grocery store. 

He takes Gojo's advice and takes care of himself. He's neglected himself for so long.

The office of Fujishiro, Ashioki, and Ichinose could use a better location and even better decor, but if Fushiguro Toji trusts them, then Megumi does as well. 

"He's very generous."

"I know," Megumi sighs, "but that's not what we agreed on; he doubled the amount."

Ichinose Yuki scans the agreement, flipping through each page, pausing on Megumi's annotations, and comparing it to the second draft. 

The prenuptial agreement is the original purpose of this meeting, but Megumi wants an unbiased opinion on the unofficial contract. 

"You're upset about his munificence?" His solicitor asked, puzzled.

"It's high-handed, he's not taking my opinions and boundaries into perspective," Megumi grouses.

"If you feel uncomfortable with the amount, put it in a separate account. Every wife should have an emergency fund."

Megumi still feels discomforted by the flagrant disregard for his boundaries. It's not as if Megumi's coming into this without assets and investments. He's comfortable, aside from what he inherited from her grandparents, was gifted by his uncle, and gained access to from his parents, Megumi saved ten percent of his salary for five years. Gojo's proposed budget for a personal allowance, monthly stipend, alimony, and child support provoked feelings of malcontent. 

There's a level of blind trust needed for this to work. The trust established between them is nearly two decades old, built on a favor that Megumi didn't quite grasp the consequences of. It created a power imbalance where Satoru sat high in the branches of the tree, feasting on the fruit of knowledge, while Megumi stood below, naive and eager to help.

Perhaps it's small and inconsequential, but if they communicate, have an open discussion about decisions, come to a unanimous agreement, and then Gojo decides that his perspective has greater consequence than Megumi's, and decides to veto their decision and go with his. That kind of arbitrary decision-making will result in the dissolution of their agreement. 

Megumi shakes his head, "No, send back both. The first draft or nothing at all."

"Only one is legally binding," the solicitor reminds him.

"This is a consultation," Megumi rebuts.

"I'm charging you double my normal rate," Ichinose threatens. 

Megumi shrugs.

Megumi's marriage contract exists in a gray area. It's neither legal nor illegal, but if it were an official betrothal between the Zen'in and Gojo clans, it would have legitimacy and fall under the jurisdiction of the Jujutsu government.

It requires discretion, and if his crooked lawyer wants to charge double or triple the fee for her expertise, he doesn't care.

"How about this? You keep the first draft but add in the addendum, subject to change due to extenuating circumstances?" 

"Please and thank you," Megumi eyes her speculatively, "Is that extra?"

"Yes, an invitation to the wedding."

---

Gojo: Can you take time off on short notice?

Gojo: I was thinking, maybe we could head to Kyoto City Hall and register the paperwork for the marriage certificate. 

Me: I can, but that's not a good idea.

Gojo: Why?

Me: the prenuptial agreement.

Gojo: We'll file a post-nuptial agreement.

Me: Not if you veto my opinions and step over my boundaries.

Gojo: What are you talking about?

Me: I can't decide if I'm mad or disappointed. Nothing we agreed on was in the second draft. If I can't trust you to respect my opinion, how can I have a baby with you? 

Me: Is this some kind of alpha posturing? If so, keep it.

Gojo: I'm coming over. 

Me: No. 

The doorbell rings.

Megumi isn't home. 

Chapter Text

2005

"It's like a Pokémon episode over here."

Megumi has always had his shadows, some more than others.

Therefore, when Shiro's ears twitch and Kuro becomes alert, Megumi is in sync. When Mourning Tiger's flames rise and spread, forming a barrier, Megumi is aware. 

"Shit!" an interloper yelps.

Megumi smiles to himself and carefully removes the pin feathers on the back of Nue's head. The shikigami screeches and shocks him when he accidentally touches a keratin sheath still filled with blood. "Motherfucker," Megumi hisses.

"Er, are you okay, Megumi?" Shoko asks in concern. 

Megumi doesn't question why the Tokyo first years are here. It's not his business. Megumi is in the middle of maintenance. His shikigami are an extension of himself; they are weapons to be honed and cared for. To neglect them is to neglect himself, so once a month, Megumi sees to their needs. 

"Yeah," he manages through gritted teeth. Nue's head turns 180 degrees, it hoots and gnashes its teeth. 

"It was an accident!"

Electricity crackles from its wings. 

"Fine, sorry!"

"Definitely a Pokémon episode," comes the comment again. 

"Would you mind letting Satoru and Suguru through?"

Megumi waves Mourning Tiger off. The beast chuffs, rises onto massive paws, approaches Megumi, extinguishes its flames, and shoves its face into Megumi's belly, knocking him over.

"Ow."

It appears that his shikigami are determined to embarrass him. 
 
He lands on his ass and the tiger rubs its giant face against his, purring loudly.

"You're a Zen'in."

It's a statement, not a question. 

Megumi kisses its snout and pets its head. It purrs louder. "What gave it away?" He says dryly.

"Your technique."

"Ah, you're too big, you can't do that," Mourning Tiger tries to lay on him. "No, no, no."

The tiger growls, and Megumi cuffs its nose.

"It's different, it's mutated."

Megumi looks up curiously, "How'd you know? That isn't readily available info."

"My eyes," Gojo Satoru says simply.

"Makes sense," Megumi nods. 

Six Eyes has incredible capabilities, but Megumi only knew the bare necessities. He was more interested in his technique and the lore surrounding the Zen'in clan and hadn't given much thought to the Gojo or Kamo. 

"How many do you have?"

"All of them," Megumi says absently. He stands up and looks around for Orochi, it is currently shedding. If he can get Max Elephant to fill one of the empty springs on campus, place Mourning Tiger nearby, it'll create a humid enough environment for Orochi to comfortably shed. 

"All of them?" Gojo questions.

"Some more than others," Megumi says distractedly. Is it still in his shadow?

2023

There is nothing, then he appears.

There's no need to knock or intrude. He's not there; even if he cloaked himself, he would know.

Satoru recognizes his cursed signature from anywhere. 

A specter, he is gone as quickly as he appeared.

Above, there in the distance.

A behemoth, a colossus flies on stormy wings. Electricity pulses through each feather, parting the clouds, but summoning various storms in its wake. Darkness rises, the clouds thicken, thunder rumbles and lightning strikes, and the thick, pungent scent of petrichor gathers.

The red raptor soars, and upon its back is its laughing rider. It shrieks in response and suddenly dives. Megumi shouts in surprise and buries his face in its feathers.

He has not done this in years. 

Megumi feeds what exists, cloaking himself and the shikigami. Like most barriers, this is a bastardization of Tengen's teachings and a relic of a bygone era. 

Nue abruptly stops mere feet from the ground, powerful wings dispersing gales of wind, causing pandemonium amongst the pedestrians. Megumi laughs breathlessly, and the owl coos.

He takes the scenic route; the train is efficient, but this novelty is unique to him.

The receptionist doesn't look up from her computer; she drones, "Hello, how may I help you?"

Satoru dons his most affable smile, slips off his sunglasses, and says, "Hi, I'm looking for Dr. Fushiguro Megumi."

"Do you have an appointment?"

"No, I'd like to verify their location. He's not answering his phone."

"What's your relationship to Dr. Fushiguro?"

"We're engaged."

The receptionist finally deigns to give him her attention. She startles and blushes furiously. 

"Um, c-can you provide proof?"

"What kind of proof? We're not married yet."

"Er, your name and ID."

"And what," Satoru lilts and leans over the reception desk counter, "will you do with my name and ID?"

The receptionist swallows, "I'll," she clears her throat and nervously says, "I'll call the neurology department and verify your identity with Dr. Fushiguro."

Satoru dimples, "Thank you."

He's not here, but he can see the residuals of his curse energy. It's abundant; it coats every surface, but the trail is old.

He's not here, but there may be clue of his location.

A familiar sight comes into view.

His parents' garden.

Megumi's parents live in the coastal town of Maizuru, Kyoto Prefecture. As they age, they prefer a slower lifestyle. His father indulges in his favorite hobby, docks his boat, and takes his mother on weekly boat rides. 

Above the house is unassuming, but its bright florals and green foliage make it recognizable. This lush garden is carefully tended to by his mother, and is a result of their cursed technique. Megumi ensures Nue stops a relative distance from their pride and joy.

He leaps from its mantle and lands on sturdy but stiff knees. Megumi winces. He's either out of shape or getting old, probably some combination of both. He stands and regrets it: "Ah, ah, ah!"

Nue hoots in concern.

The back door opens, and his mother shouts, "Megu-chan!"

Fushiguro Kai's voice is a familiar warmth that wraps around him.

"Mama," He greets with a grin.

Kai's lined face lights up with a similar grin, and their dark eyes dance as they open welcoming arms to their son.

So he quit his job.

Interesting.

Nobara said he was a workaholic. He thought he would have to coax Megumi into a work-life balance. The workforce isn't kind to mothers and has double standards for omegas. He didn't want him to give up on what he loved, but perhaps they could reach a compromise. 

It appears that Megumi has a plan of his own.

There are four places he could be; one is out of the question. He cannot enter without invitation and will not encroach on the holy terrain of another family.

So he starts with the Ieiri residence and then heads to the Itadori home.

"Where's Otou-san?"

The absence of Toji's hulking mass is evident in the quaint home his parents occupy.

"Visiting your uncle," Fushiguro Kai answers.

Megumi blanches. 

Once a month, Toji meets up with Zen'in Jinichi; it's a tradition that started when Megumi was formally introduced as heir. There were protests when his dad first set foot on the Zen'in ancestral grounds. He was disinherited and stripped of his surname; he had no place there, but it greeted him like an old friend. And demonstrated that the vow placed on Toji wasn't a fluke, its origins were rooted deep in Zen'in ancestry. A reflection of the tenth shadow's physical capabilities. A relic of Taira no Masakado.

Many of their relatives speculated about what these meetings were about, but Megumi knew it was two old men gossiping, and he was usually one of the subjects on their agenda.

"That's today? When did he leave?" Megumi asks urgently.

"You know it's every third week of the month," His mother gives him a strange look, "This morning, you know he hates public transportation."

"Shit." Megumi closes his eyes in resignation. His uncle has already told Dad the news, so now Megumi has to run damage control.

"What happened? What did you do?" Kai's gimlet eyes narrow.

Megumi doesn't appreciate their suspicion, even if it's warranted. "Nothing, I had something to tell you and Dad, but Jinichi-ji-san has probably spoiled the news."

"Well, tell me. I'm not there, and I want to know," they demand and wave at him impatiently.

Megumi petulantly crosses his arms and says, "No."

"No? What do you mean no?" His mother shouts incredulously.

"Wait until Dad tells you. That way, you can both slander me in peace," Megumi snaps waspishly. 

"Who are you talking to? Do you think we belittle you? You, little shit!" Kai smacks his arms, then the side of his head. Megumi tries to dodge, but despite their age, they're still light on their feet.

"Stop!" He protects his head with his arms and clenches his eyes closed.

"Get your head out of your ass!" They hit his back with every word he utters. 

"Fine!" He shouts, surrendering, "I'm getting married!"

Kai squeals.

The transition is enough to give him whiplash. He cautiously opens one eye and removes his arms, but he takes a defensive pose when they grab him and shake him in excitement. "Really!?"

"Yes," Megumi says warily.

Kai squeals again, claps their hands, and smiles widely. "I didn't know you were dating anyone! You were coming home so often your dad was starting to consider your uncle's matchmaking referral. After your last relationship ended, we thought Maki would get mated and married before you, and that you would stay single and dedicated to your career. Who are they? Are they someone we know? How'd you meet? When do we meet them?"

Megumi doesn't have it in him to burst their bubble and ruin their happiness. Their words are a bit harsh, but the truth is often biting. His parents want what's best for him, and they don't want him alone, especially when all of his friends have lives of their own and often leave him on the back burner.

"Something like that, he's a," Megumi searches for the words to describe Gojo, "a lost connection."

"Oh, so the right one, wrong time?"

"Something like that," Megumi mutters.

He finds him.

His cursed energy intertwines with another, one he remembers from halcyon days. It lingered on Megumi; it must be his mother's cursed energy.

Below, the door opens, and Megumi appears outside and looks above with narrowed eyes.

The sky is empty.

He is long gone.

He knows he's there, he's hardly hiding.

Gojo leans against the wall by his door. At least he has the sense not to go inside, invade his space, and make himself at home, leaving the scent of an alpha imprinted in an omega's sanctuary. He is a force of nature, but perhaps he knows temperance.

He thinks not.

When they were young, Gojo did as he pleased. If given the chance to touch him, he took full advantage, leaving his scent like a claim on his skin, and taking liberties that were not his to have. If in Megumi's vicinity, he commandeered his attention and demanded the omega look at him and no one else.

If he didn't respect his boundaries, then why did Megumi expect him to do it now?

Megumi approaches with unhurried steps and takes in Gojo's neutral expression and relaxed body language, but Megumi can feel his eyes watching him intently.

He pushes the cover of the keypad up and presses the access pin. Before he can open the door, Gojo speaks.

"Can we talk?"

"Nope, I'm tired. Raincheck?" Megumi pushes the door open, steps inside, and closes it behind him, but Gojo's stupid giant foot blocks it. Megumi tries to stomp on it but finds himself hindered by Infinity.

He glares, and Gojo sticks out his tongue.

The bastard.

"Me-gu-mi, we have to talk this out like adults." He pushes the door open, and Megumi pushes back, unwilling to yield. "You can't just get mad and run away."

"I can and will," Megumi asserts. His neighbors will have a field day with this. 

"That's a no-no; remember rule number three." He gives the door a mighty shove; it doesn't budge. He peers around the door, and copies of Rabbit Escape fill the genkan. Megumi's head appears in the pile of writhing fur. He wriggles a hand free and flips him off.

"It's funny you should say that. You broke rules number one and two. Trust and communication!" 

"How can I fix it, if you don't talk to me! Rule number three: If we have any grievances, we tell the other person and try to find a solution. If we quarrel, we cool down and try-" 

"Don't quote the fucking rules at me, you jackass! I wrote them!"

"Oh? So you do know them! Let's talk about rule number two: communication. Were you going to tell me you quit your job?"

Megumi opens and closes his mouth, then summons a shrunken form of Max Elephant. Clones of Rabbit Escape disperse, but the door slams shut with a visible dent from Infinity. There goes part of his deposit. Hopefully, his key money will keep his reputation pristine with the landlord. He doubts it. 

The door to the genkan slams open, and Gojo appears unimpressed and annoyed. "Cut the bullshit, tell me what's wrong. Why'd you quit your job? Why are you screening my calls and ignoring my messages? Are you having second thoughts? Are you reneging?"

Max Elephant trumpets in indignation, and the floor creaks ominously under its reduced weight. Fissures appear on the floor and wall. He's definitely losing his security deposit.

"Megumi!" Gojo barks.  

Did that bastard use the alpha voice on him? He did, he totally did.

"Answer me," Gojo's full pink lips are in a flat line, at odds with his usual perennial smile. He's wearing lip gloss- 

He snaps his fingers, and Megumi's attention is drawn back to the matter at hand. "You're being ridiculous," his eyes are flat, his ire palpable.

"Well, you stalked me, that's super creepy," Megumi tries to bypass him. "Take off your shoes."

Gojo blocks him and laughs mirthlessly, "You're testing my patience. I don't make concessions for anyone, but I tried for you. Can't you at least try for me?"

Megumi pushes against his arm, and his grip tightens on the doorframe, wood splintering under his hold. Gojo brackets him, placing his other hand on the wall behind him. A semi-embrace, loose, but a trap nonetheless.

He stares at Gojo's collar, not daring to tilt his head back and glimpse at his expression.

"Please."

Megumi wants to say the contract is the problem, but it's a deeper issue. He's agreed to a fraudulent claim to happiness. He'll be lying to everyone around him to achieve what his friends have easily accomplished. Now he's quit his job to dedicate himself to a temporary role and a lifelong commitment. He's made several life-altering decisions within the span of two weeks, thrown in his lot with someone he despised

But he won't say that.

"The contract didn't have anything we agreed on."

"It had everything we agreed on," Gojo retorts sharply.

"The amount you settled on is absorbent," Megumi mutters.

"Are you serious, Megumi?" Gojo leans down and tries to catch his eyes. Megumi refuses to meet those haunting blue eyes framed by thick, long lashes. "Are fucking serious? We agreed on a minimum and maximum amount. My lawyer sent in the maximum with the understanding we could change it if need be."

Megumi blinks, "Oh."

"Kids are expensive. I've done my research. Didn't you say I did my due diligence? Why are you doubting me now?" Gojo cups his face, a large hand encompassing his cheek, jaw, and neck in warmth. "Are you having second thoughts? If you are, just say so, and we'll stop here."

Megumi closes his eyes and says, "No."

Gojo sighs, "It doesn't seem like it."

This close, he smells sweet. His scent is muted but still potent enough to be titillating. He smells virile as opposed to fecund.

"This feels like it's too good to be true," Megumi divulges.

"How so? It's a favor." 

"Back then, you took advantage of my crush on you, and now you're taking advantage of my loneliness," Megumi says solemly and finally meets his eyes. 

He doesn't appear surprised by the revelation; instead, he asks, "Has it occurred to you that you're not the only lonely one?"

They get married the next day.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Gojo doesn't let go of his hand.

"Are you hungry?"

As if on cue, his stomach grumbles. He flushes, "I was too nervous to eat."

"We should celebrate this milestone," Gojo proposes.

"Our first marriage," He announces without much thought, then remembers not to assume and amends his statement. "To my first marriage."

Gojo laughs, "I've never done this before." He raises their intertwined hands. "This is my first and my last."

And before he can question that odd statement, his lips brush the back of Megumi's hand. They're soft and plush, as he thought, sticky as well. 

That proves the lipgloss theory.

He wonders what flavor it is.

---

"You still like sweets, I see."

Gojo slowly licks the back of his spoon, pink tongue flattened against the silver surface. Then he sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, savoring the flavor.

Megumi stares.

He's doing that on purpose; there's no way that isn't deliberate, or maybe it's his dry spell waving a white flag demanding his capitulation.

White teeth flash, but pink lips fall into a closed-mouth smile. "I do."

Megumi blinks.

Underhanded tactics are afoot.

He will not fall for his ploy (yet).

"I was thinking, since I have more free time, maybe we can look for a place? My apartment is great for one person, and you live in Tokyo. I don't mind moving there, but everyone we know is around here, so what do you think?"

Gojo shrugs, "It doesn't matter to me."

That's not helpful at all. Megumi revises his question. "You work in Tokyo, so maybe Nagoya?"

"I split my time between Tokyo and Kyoto, we can keep two residences. My lease is almost up soon, so we can start here and look there later," Gojo says. He taps on his mobile and brings up his calendar, it is filled with back-to-back entries. "I'll cancel some meetings and rearrange my calendar to fit around you."

"I thought you were a teacher," Megumi wonders aloud.

"Oh? You know my dark and dirty past?" He smiles impishly.

Megumi rolls his eyes, "Utahime-senpai complained profusely about you."

"Of course she did, everyone was a critic," he replies dismissively. 

Utahime-senpai said he wasn't qualified and was probably given his post through nepotism, but Megumi begs to differ. As much as he tried to limit the information he learned about the alpha, much of it came to his attention through similar friends and connections. Gojo Satoru has never behaved one day in his life. He was a menace as a child, and that pattern continued into adulthood; it just became more intentional and targeted. If he wanted to become a teacher, he did it with a goal in mind and from his uncle's anecdotes, he made waves that pissed off many, gained the grudging respect of a few, and the admiration of others.

"Why'd you quit?"

Gojo cocks his head, "Why did you quit?"

Megumi huffs, "I'm asking you."

"I'm asking you," He mocks, "answer my question and I'll tell you my secrets."

"You're annoying," Megumi sighs.

"But I'm pretty," is Gojo's cheeky rejoinder. "That makes up for it."

"Delusional, too," Megumi adds caustically. 

"You called me pretty first," Gojo points out.

"But empty-headed," Megumi is quick to remind him.

"You also called me cunning!"

"Not as a compliment," Megumi affirms.

"Ah, ah, ah, you can't have it both ways~"

Megumi fights the urge to kick him under the table. "Fine." Gojo smiles in victory, the bastard. "I was burned out. I'm very good at what I do, I just hate it. People say do what you love, but they never mention the eventual fatigue."

"Do you think being a mother will help?" Gojo asks.

"I don't think having a child will fix that, and it's not a burden I'll put on one. It's something I have to resolve," Megumi answers somberly. 

Gojo's sunglasses slip down the bridge of his nose, and his eyes gleam with an emotion Megumi can't place.

"Teaching and I became incompatible," Gojo begins. "I realized I was following someone else's dream. I was conditioned to become a jujutsu sorcerer, I was expected to go to uni to support my family's prosperity, and I became a teacher to fulfill someone's goals. I never did anything for myself; if I did, it was always based on someone else's conditions—Fate or Destiny, whatever. I've never had free will; it comes with the territory as Six Eyes and everything it entails, but what about Gojo Satoru? What choices have I made for myself?"

Gojo pins him with his haunting eyes.

"I chose you." 

Chapter Text

Megumi hesitates on his doorstep. He turns to Gojo, who stands a short distance away, hands in his pockets. 

Perhaps he's riding on the novelty of the day, maybe it's the words that flowed, succulent and sweet from Gojo's honey-dipped tongue, or perhaps this brave new world favors the bold.

Megumi asks a question.

"Are you staying in Kyoto?"

"Maybe," Gojo says cavalierly. 

"With your family?" He probes.

Gojo grimaces, "No, fuck no."

Megumi laughs, "That bad?"

"The worst, ugh," He visibly shudders.

"They can't be worse than the Zen'in," Megumi says in doubt.

"No, but they are cut from the same cloth. They're a work in progress," Gojo's exasperation is potent. "Change is gradual and disrupting over a millennia of tradition is an uphill battle."

Megumi snorts, "That's a lie. You've terrorized enough government officials to get what you want."

"Why Megumi," Gojo moves closer, voice teasing, "are you keeping track of my exploits?"

Megumi tilts his head up, "Since you don't teach, you have to find something else to fill your time."

Gojo chuckles, "I do that and more."

"More?"

Gojo comes closer, "Manage my family and our interests."

"That sounds like a full-time job," Megumi comments, leaning against the door.

"Luckily, the Gojo work like a well-oiled machine. Even when a cog breaks, it's addressed and quickly fixed," He places one arm on the doorframe and the other on the door, bracketing him in. Gojo studies his face and leans in. Megumi is filled with sudden anticipation. "Speaking of broken fixtures," Gojo murmurs, a secret between them both. He knocks on the dented door, "I'll foot the bill for this."

Megumi stamps down the disappointment that wells up. 

Gojo smirks.

Megumi wants to throttle him. He's doing it on purpose!

"I'll see you-"

"I was going to suggest you stay with me," Megumi will not allow him this victory. Fortune favors the bold, and while Gojo has nothing but audacity, Megumi rises to every attempt to cow him. "At least until we find our own place, but it looks like you have a home."

"Home is what you make it, and I'm supposed to make a home with you," He says sweetly.

"Invitation rescinded," Megumi declares. "Do you believe the bullshit you're spouting?"

"It works 99% of the time," He quips.

"You're ridiculous," Megumi sighs in lament, "I've chained myself to a village idiot."

"You're village idiot," He teases and grins winsomely. 

"Please go away."

"Never! You've invited me to stay, but Megumi," he coos, "I don't think your bed is big enough for two."

Perhaps he thinks he'll balk after that audacious statement, but Megumi isn't a wilting flower, nor a blushing virgin.

"It's a Murphy bed," He informs, saccharine sweet. "I have a futon for two."

Gojo reaches out and tugs the hair by his nape, fingertips brushing the erroneous zone. Megumi instinctively shivers.

"If that's the case," He murmurs, "I'm obliged to stay."

---

Gojo told him one hour. To give him one hour to take care of an errand, pack a bag, and return.

In that time, Megumi wages war on his apartment. He has a house cleaning service that specializes in omegan spaces visit his apartment every two weeks. But suddenly it doesn't feel clean, it's cluttered. Megumi shoves his folded laundry into the closet, shuts their designated drawer, ignores the abhorrence that settles in his gut, and shoves his nest off his bed. He folds the bed into the wall, and it blends seamlessly into the vertical wood paneling.

He rolls up the carpet, finds the latch for the underfloor storage, and pulls it. He reaches inside, pulls out a storage container, and gets to work. 

He hasn't used his futons in a year, he rolls them out, and finds fresh bedding. He'll rebuild his nest, and dump the-

He needs to shower.

By the time Gojo shows up, the bedroom is transformed, and Megumi's muted scent pervades the apartment. Gojo follows him in, duffle bag in hand, and Megumi faces him.

They stare at each other.

Gojo blinks first, "Where do you want me?"

"Oh! You can put your stuff in the bedroom, and the bathroom is through that door. It's western style, so it isn't wet after my bath. Let me get you some towels," he leaps into action.

"Megumi?"

He stops mid-stride, "Yeah?" 

"Are you nervous?" 

Megumi nods.

Gojo smiles softly, "I am, too." 

Chapter Text

Megumi wakes up married and alone.

No, he's not.

There's someone here.

On the other side of Kuro and the pillow barrier, he created in the guise of constructing another nest.

Megumi didn't trust himself.

He wanted Gojo to kiss him.

He peeks over the barrier.

Gojo Satoru sleeps on his back, wears a sleep mask and pajamas.

In this, he's ordinary, how profound.

It's endearing.  

It's like nothing has changed.

It's so easy to get caught in his gravity.

This was how it was.

His crush went unacknowledged. Maybe it was even reciprocated, but Gojo never deviated from the well-traveled path. Even if his affections wavered, he kept his eyes on one person and one person alone.  

He never confessed, and Gojo made no promises.

But he remembers the pain of Gojo's casual disregard, the rejection of knowing he was someone's second choice, if a choice at all. He also remembers the acute guilt of encroaching on someone's relationship. Suguru was a friend before he ever considered Gojo a part of his circle. He and Satoru circled each other like binary stars, and Megumi was the black hole threatening their gravitational pull.

This is how it is now.

Nothing has changed.

He is still the second choice. 

Nothing has changed; everything has changed. 

Megumi does not let the past define him, but it haunts him, hangs over his head like a bad omen.

He is older, he is wiser, he is experienced, he is jaded, he is wary, he understands the state of things.

Love is never enough.

Megumi gets up quietly, Shiro and Kuro on his heels. He'll put away the futon later. He needs to call his real estate agent and email his solicitor. 

He'll treat this marriage as what it is, an arrangement. 

He is the second choice because the other, the better choice, is not here.

Chapter Text

Megumi thinks. 

He wants two children out of this arrangement, separate rooms would be ideal, but he wonders if they'll co-sleep or keep a crib beside the bed. Does he even want to share a bedroom with Gojo? Outside of their seasons, physical intimacy is negotiable, but alphas and omegas are creatures of physicality, senses, and instincts. The addition of pregnancy will heighten that instinctual awareness and demand focus on the baby's well-being, preservation, and development in utero.

But they're not mated, and they never will be, so perhaps not.

Then again, Gojo says he wants to be a father; he's not interested in carrying on the Gojo legacy or fulfilling a societal expectation. He wants to be involved in the daily tasks, the emotional investment of parenting, and the well-being and development of the child.

And despite his doubts and insecurities, warranted and fabricated, Megumi knows that Gojo is a man of his word. 

So he will not presume and keep his options open.

But why must he be solicitous of Gojo's feelings when his were never considered? Megumi is conflicted; the past haunts him. It has no place here. 

Gojo was a fickle teenager. Frivolous, mercurial, and vaniglorious. He is the same, he has changed. 

Megumi is no longer the love-sick teenager, waiting on a kind word or glance from his crush.

This is the real world, and they make arrangements.

Megumi will strive for a harmonious marriage, the white-picket fence and 2.5 kids. He wanted change, he made a choice, he'll live with it.

He needs to talk to his therapist.

Two bathrooms is ideal, an office, certainly.

A similar background, a similar power, and similar burdens helped develop camaraderie between Megumi and the alpha. He knows what duties and responsibilities Gojo undertakes, and can only speculate on what other tasks are on the alpha's plate. He'll need a space for work, but Megumi wonders if the designated space would better serve as a nursery.

For the rest of the requirements, he takes ideas from his personal wishlist.

Me: Six to seven rooms, two bathrooms, a yard, dishwasher, washing machine, or a space for one, and a preinstalled oven.

Chika: House or apartment?

Me: House. 

Chika: New? Are you willing to renovate?

Me: I'd prefer to rent, land and building depreciation concern me.

Chika: Not if you're in a desirable area. You can purchase the land, and if the house is 20 to 30 years old, you can renovate it and bring value back to it. 

Me: I'll have to think about it, let's focus on renting for now.

Chika: Locations?

Me: anywhere family-friendly in the Keihanshin.

Chika: That's a wide net. I'll give you some cities to consider. Ibaraki, Takatsuki, Minoh, Ikoma, Toyonaka, and Suita. Would you mind moving to Osaka, specifically the Higashinari ward? 

Me: I'll research and get back to you.

Chika: I suggest visiting and finding a neighborhood that catches your fancy.

Me: thanks Chika-senpai.

Chika: no problem, keep me posted.

Chika: and congratulations!

Me: Thank you.

"Good morning."

"Morning," Megumi says distractedly. He emails his therapist first and makes sure the subject line conveys his urgency, declining sanity, and cognitive disturbance. 

"What are you doing?"

"Averting a crisis," He mutters, quickly typing out his message.

A shadow looms over him, a Goliath swallowing him. He peers over his shoulder, and Megumi tilts his mobile out of view.

"Do you need any help?" He switches sides. 

Megumi expertly pivots away from his nosy gaze, and successfully sends out a concisely written S.O.S email.  

"No."

The alpha is probably pouting, but Megumi pays him no mind.

He emails his solicitor, informing her that the prenuptial agreement will have to be postnuptial. 

"What are you doing today? Do you want to go out and get breakfast?"

"No. I have to do research." If he's smart, he can visit each city within the next two weeks.  

"Ooooh! What kind?"

Demographics, school districts, safety, climate, transportation, healthcare, tourism, crime, housing market, recreational activities, parks, city or suburbs. 

"The realtor who helped me get this apartment is a friend from Uni. She sent over a few recommendations, I'll text you the details. I-"

Gojo covers his phone with his hand. "Can you talk to me and not at me?"

"Does it make a difference?" Megumi snaps, annoyed. 

Megumi tries to snatch his phone away, but Gojo encompasses it in both of his hands.

"It does," He says earnestly.

Megumi glares and tries to pull away, but Gojo remains stubbornly still. He tugs him forward, and Megumi tries to dig in his heels. 

"Have breakfast with me," He insists, "and we'll talk about it." 

"Don't you have work?" Megumi argues and tries to extricate his trapped hand. Gojo captures that one as well and tugs him closer. 

"I'll make time," Gojo declares. "I'll always make time for you," He promises.

"You don't have to," Megumi struggles against him.

"But I do~" Amused by his futile struggle, Gojo lets him go. Megumi flails and tries to find his balance. Gojo bands an arm around his waist, and Megumi conveniently falls flush against his strong chest. Face hot, Megumi closes his eyes in resignation, it's such a fucking cliche. 

Gojo tries to tilt his head back, but Megumi refuses to cooperate, hiding his face in the alpha's shirt, fingers gripping the material with a vice grip.

Gojo gives up and holds him in a loose embrace. 

"You're used to doing things by yourself," his voice reverberates through Megumi. "Having the first and last word and making decisions on your own. That's not how marriage works, and if it were, I'd be a terrible husband. When I said I wanted to be a husband, I meant it. Prepare to be sick of me."

Megumi fears he'll grow to crave it.

Chapter Text

2006

Naoya eyes his surroundings with distaste. "For such an illustrious family, this event is very gaudy."

Megumi agrees, but keeps his opinion to himself. "Gojo events aren't like this?"

"No," Naoya lip curls in disgust, "you'll see during Golden Week. But the bride is barely related to the Gojo, and his mother constantly reminds everyone they are Yagyū. Why aren't they embarrassed!? Their lineage is contested!"

Naoya is a snob, but he is not wrong.

"Members of the Gojo clan are here," Megumi points out, fanning the flames, stirring the pot.

"That's because the bride's father is a Takatsuji! The mother is an embarrassment attempting to rewrite history after marrying up."

Naoya is a snob, but he is an archivist who has dedicated himself to collecting, researching, and restoring information related to the Zen'in.

The Zen'in may have rewritten their historical narrative, but Naoya uncovers the truth.

Megumi wonders if he took on the task to redeem his branch of the family. The sins of the father trickle down.

"Do you think the bride's mum is boasting because her son is marrying down?" Megumi postulates. If she is a social climber and has endeavored to do better for herself, she probably wants her children to strive higher.

"No, she's vulgar," Naoya dismisses, "Besides, the bride is marrying up. He is a gift."

"You mean a bargaining chip," Megumi corrects, jaded. It is not unheard of, it is still done, it is a fact of life. Their macrocosm of society picks and chooses what laws they follow, and many of the laws that govern them are archaic. Betrothals and arranged marriages are exchanges of alliances, and omegas and beta females are the candidates for these transactions.

"A bargaining chip would mean they need this alliance. The groom is a Karahashi, a cadet branch of the Gojo, like the Takatsuji. The bride," Naoya leans in close and gestures for Megumi to lend his ear, "is a gift to the Karahashi because the Gojo heir was born to their family."

Intrigue paints Megumi's features.

Naoya grins, "It's not that farfetched, the sire is the grandson of a Gojo. But in exchange for Six Eyes, the Karahashi were given a huge boon, and three or five brides were promised to them."

So Gojo is adopted, that makes sense. If it's anything like the Zen'in succession, then Six Eyes appoints him as clan head. Leaving him in the hands of an auxiliary family would lead to sedition and the likely elimination of the Karahashi, like the Higashibōjō and Maeda clans.

The Gojo are a small family, but their cadet branches inflate their numbers. When there is a threat to their dominion, they are known to halve their numbers.

"So what's the mum's problem? Did she expect her son to marry the Gojo heir? She can't be that stupid," Megumi says doubtfully.

Naoya snorts, "You'd be surprised. But she should be grateful, that guy is annoying."

Megumi agrees.

"I can't stand him-"

"My ears are burning!"

Speak of the devil, and the devil will appear. Slithering, a snake in the grass, creeping along unseen until it strikes.

Naoya startles, flushes, and shoots him a panicked look.

Megumi shrugs, they were gossiping, but Gojo was eavesdropping. Two wrongs don't make a right.

"Oh, you're here," Megumi says mildly.

Gojo's smirk is knowing.

"In the flesh," Gojo brandishes his hand to himself in a frivolous wave. "Unwilling but obliged due to filial piety. What are we talking about?"

Annoyed and embarrassed, Naoya blusters, "None of your-"

"Damnation of the bloodline," Megumi interrupts.

Gojo is caught off guard, then amused. "Whose?"

"Everyone's, but mine in particular," Megumi answers nonchalantly.

"What makes you so special, hm?" His question is a touch condescending.

Megumi acknowledges the faux pas they committed and the slight they lodged against him. He engages in quid pro quo.

"My dad was disinherited because of a heavenly restriction and given to his maternal family, but he ended up producing what every Zen'in wished for," Megumi divulges.

"Ten Shadows? I bet he celebrated. Mine did."

Megumi shakes his head, "No, me."

"Must be nice," Goo quips, a note of wistfulness in his tone.

"Hello, Megumi.

"Hi, Dr. Saruta."

"How are you?"

Megumi sighs, "Overwhelmed."

"Tell me about it."

And it begins. Megumi tells his truth, omits, outright lies, but tells his truth.

Chapter Text

2006

Naoya was right. 

Golden week is a feast for the eyes.

The Gojo rarely entertain, but this is one of the few instances.

This estate is used for cherry blossom viewing. It is open to the public twice a year, but a formal invitation is required.

Red and gold transform the stately courtyard; red paper lanterns hang from arches covered in fairy lights. In the distance, colorful carp streamers blow in the wind, symbolizing courage, strength, and success. The surrounding gardens are lush and green even in the dark of night. 

Too bad his uncle limited the number of Zen'in who could attend. There were talks of an engagement between him and Naoya. Megumi wouldn't mind; they were friends, and that's a great foundation for marriage. His father is vehemently against any form of arranged marriage, and his uncle would never entertain the elevation of a traitor's kin. 

Megumi isn't interested in socializing. He made his rounds, politely engaged, endured gawking and backhanded comments about his secondary gender, status as heir, and the suggestions that a cousin/son/daughter/niece/nephew might be of interest to him. It gets old, it becomes commonplace, it becomes static background noise, it is beneath him.

Megumi escapes and finds shelter within the many gardens that dot the estate. He's tempted to summon his shikigami, but doesn't want to be held liable for the damage they may inflict on these carefully manicured lawns. Round Deer is the safest bet, benign to the foolish, and dangerous to the shrewd.

He spots a gazebo in the distance, one that looks like a tea house's soto-koshikake. 

Someone is already seated there. 

What are the chances he runs into Gojo Satoru? What are the chances indeed?

He is playing Nintendo DS. Megumi would know; he has one hidden in his pocket. The light from the gaming console highlights his face.

Megumi is momentarily struck; he is annoying, but at least he's nice to look at.

He looks up, and Megumi waves.

Gojo breaks into a wry grin, "Running away?"

"Yeah," Megumi takes out his Nintendo DS, "Do you mind having company?"

His gaze flickers to Megumi's shikigami.

"The more the merrier."

Megumi approaches and sits opposite Gojo. "What game are you playing?"

"Lost Magic, you?"

"Contact."

"Favorite game?" Gojo asks companionably.

"Right now?" Megumi asks for clarification.

Gojo nods.

"Castlevania: Dawn of Sorrow."

"Good taste."

Behind Megumi, Round Deer eats the local foliage.

---

It begins in Suita-shi and ends in Suita-shi.

They take the train, sure they could teleport, they could by the dark, by bird, by automobile, but where's the fun in that?

Megumi wants an authentic experience. He wants to know the commute, where he will carry his babies in a carrier, where he will push a stroller, where he will grocery shop, where he will visit parks, museums, and restaurants and cafes. He wants his feet on the ground, and he wants to see the people and the community.  

Megumi knows the moment they leave, they leave the station. 

This is it.

Suita-shi is a suburb of Osaka. It's a good area for families with young children, is within walking distance of Osaka, and offers a laid-back lifestyle.

This was a selling point.

But Megumi knows the moment they step onto the streets.

His omegan instincts, thoughts, and emotions are all in tune. 

"This is it," He tells Gojo with certainty. 

"You like it? Already?" Gojo questions in slight disbelief. 

Megumi nods.

"You don't want to look anywhere else?"

Megumi shakes his head.

"Should we at least look around?" 

Megumi nods fervently.

Gojo holds out his hand, and Megumi contemplates it.

Therapy does not solve problems; it gives you the tools to manage emotions, set healthy boundaries, understand your thoughts, feelings, and behaviors, improve motivation, identify problems, and increase resilience. Megumi is a therapist in his own right, but he is still fallible. 

He came to a realization and made a choice.

Megumi places his hand in his. 

Chapter Text

2006

They're used to Shoko following in their wake. They rarely follow in her lead, but there's nothing to do, and in their boredom, they tag along. 

"Shoko, it's freezing! Why did you choose today of all days!?" Satoru whines.

"Brrrrr!" Suguru's teeth chatter.

Shoko chooses to ignore them like the nuisances they are. Unlike them, she actually has a life, and if they want to be party to her reunion with her girlfriend, then so be it.

"The closest landmark? You're not taking the train?" She asks.

They don't hear the reply, but Shoko turns and takes in her surroundings. "Um, we said we'd meet at Inokashira Park. I'm here. Where by?" 

Shoko is moving, heading west; they follow. She stops abruptly, and the idiot duo bump into her. Shoko nearly falls, but Suguru catches her. She turns and frowns.

He holds his hands out innocently. Shoko flips them both off. 

Gojo pouts and Suguru scowls.

"Leave the park and head to a nearby alleyway? Where? Okay." 

She leads the way.

It's a path of stairs situated between an apartment complex and a fence. 

"How deep are the shadows?" Shoko questions, puzzled. "What does that mean?"

An unnatural darkness encompasses the path; it deepens into an impenetrable black. A solid, thick writhing mass that opens into a gaping hole that releases copies of Fushiguro Megumi's Shikigami.

"Woah!"

"Shit!" 

Satoru grabs Suguru around the waist and drags Shoko by the jacket to avoid the incoming stampede.

The herd of shadowy specters disappears into tendrils of smoke when they lose momentum. Nobara emerges, green and ill. Megumi stumbles out afterward, black tendrils clinging to him like slime.

"Never again," Nobara gags. 

Megumi groans, sits on the steps, and places his head between his knees.

"What happened?" Shoko asks urgently, holding Nobara by the arms.

"Megumi's shitty experiments," She answers.

"Miscaluation," Megumi manages to get out. He's pale and sweating; he gets to his feet and wobbles.

"Alright, Megumi-san?" Suguru steps forward and reaches out to steady the omega. He takes his helping hand gratefully.

And Satoru, well, Satoru has questions. If Fushiguro has all of his shadows, why didn't a copy of the tenth shadow appear? When Fushiguro uses his technique, an invisible eight-handled wheel appears above him. That is a sign of the tenth shikigami. Does that mean his mutation is an inheritance of all of the tenth shadow's powers?  Satoru knows a technique's strengths and weaknesses at a glance, but Fushiguro's technique is constantly changing, or perhaps he uses it in ways he can't predict. But now is hardly the time to ask.

"Megumi, come back to campus to rest. You look like shit," Nobara says.

"No need," He makes a hand sign, and a deer emerges from behind him. Four cylindrical eyes pulse, and gossamer lights fill the alleyway. RCT pulses from the shikigami antlers. "Here," Megumi's shadow shifts, and he reaches down and pulls out a backpack.

"You sure?" Nobara takes the bag. 

"Un, I need to perfect this."

"I think you should rest and then go," Nobara says, concerned. 

"It'll be fine, see?" He holds his arms out, "I feel better already."

"Stay," Shoko takes her girlfriend's side. "You can hang with these two idiots until you feel better. They invited themselves along like a bunch of losers."

"Hey!" 

"Shoko, you're so cruel!"

"It's true," Shoko remarks candidly.

"Well?" Nobara rounds on Suguru and Satoru. "Will you look after Megumi? I can trust Suguru-san, but when bun-head and the yeti are together, stupid takes on a new meaning."

"Not you too!"

"She's spawned! They say couples look alike and sound alike after a while!"

"I'll consider it," Megumi speaks up. "Suguru-san mentioned an arcade you guys frequent. I wanna go." 

"Let's go!" Suguru lights up, "Lunch is on Satoru!" 

"Don't volunteer me! I'm broke!"

"The hell you are!" 

"Megumi, I'm leaving," Nobara tells her best friend, "call me and get some anti-nausea medication." 

Megumi nods, "Have fun."

"I'm taking the train back," She adds.

"It wasn't that bad."

"It was terrible," Nobara counters. 

Megumi rolls his eyes.

"Bye-bye!"

"Bye." 

While Satoru and Suguru argue, Megumi pets Round Deer. The shikigami's skin melts from its flesh, and Megumi shudders, "Ew, why do you guys do that?"

"Probably to freak you out," Suguru answers his rhetorical question, staring at the deer with disgust. Its skin reappears, and it blinks its four spherical eyes in unison. 

"That sounds about right," He replies. "Are we going?"

"Yeah."

Satoru gets his chance to ask his questions. He turns around and walks backwards. "Hey Fushiguro?"

He looks up from his mobile. "Hm?"

"Hey, did you know the Eight-Handled Sword appears every time you use your technique?"

"Oh, you see that?" Fushiguro says in surprise. At his nod, he explains, "It appears every time I master a new part of my technique."

"So, instead of adapting, it catalogs it or something?" 

"I don't really know what it's for. I guess it means the tenth shikigami can use whatever I use." That's a scary thought. If the tenth shadow is mastered, that means Fushiguro Megumi is nigh invincible.

That gives him pause.

"Can you control it?"

"Nah, none of my shikigami are tamed."

Again, that enigmatic statement about his technique leaves Gojo intrigued.

2023

He should have packed them a lunch or made Gojo keep his promise to cook for him. The park would have been the perfect location for a lunch picnic.

They settle on a Thai restaurant near Esaka station. 

Megumi's mind races, if they find a house within the next month and plan the wedding in two, he'll be settled in time for his heat. 

"My heat is in June."

Gojo coughs and quickly covers his mouth with a napkin. His coughing fit continues, and his sunglasses fall off.

Unintentional, but a win is a win. 

His satisfaction is short and petty. He smiles, "Are you okay?"

Teary reddened eyes glare at him.

Megumi's smile widens. "As I was saying, my annual heat is in June, with the right planning, I'll be pregnant by summer and we'll have a baby in March of next year. Is that agreeable to you?" 

"You suck," Gojo complains. He blinks and wipes his under his eyes. "I need eye drops." 

Megumi laughs evilly, "Well?"

"You're serious?" Gojo watches him contemplatively. "You don't think that's too soon?" 

Too soon? What timeline is he on? Pregnancy is time-consuming, detrimental to the mother's health, and dangerous from conception to post-birth. Megumi wants to wait two years between the first and second pregnancy. He will not spend the last two years of his marriage pregnant and experiencing post-partum with the prospect of impending divorce hanging over his head. 

"No, the timing is perfect."

"How many times a year do you experience heat?"

"Once." Heat can occur two to four times a year, depending on the Etrus cycle of the omega. Megumi has let himself undergo one a year for health purposes and quality of life.

"Would you consider twice a year?"

"Why?" 

"Because I want to spend time with you," Gojo says reasonably, "and enjoy the honeymoon period before we welcome a baby."

What is he on about? This isn't a real marriage; they can still be companions, just with a baby in tow.

"What for? The whole point of this is to have a baby."

"Part of the reason," Gojo answers patiently. "But not entirely."

"But-"

"I don't go into rut until December, so it will have to wait until we're in sync!"

"You can take a rut indu-"

"December!" He snaps.

Megumi shrinks back, "Okay."

Gojo smiles brightly, "I'm glad we resolved that issue like adults."

Megumi stares at him, but he can't help but ask.

"Okay, but why December? During your birthday or the new year?"

"In between, it's a gift to myself," Gojo smirks wolfishly. "Complete debauchery."

"Oh," He says and feels himself blush. 

"You seem eager to experience it," he teases.

"I m-mean," Megumi stutters.

"That's good to know."  Gojo regards him with half-lidded eyes and a knowing smirk. 

Chapter Text

"Megumi, is this really part of your nest?"

The pillow barrier is ridiculous, but a necessary evil. Megumi added more pillows and stuffed animals to fortify it.

Gojo leans on the barricade, head resting on his crossed arms, eyes glowing eerily in the darkness of the room. 

"Yes," Megumi says primly, "now get off; you're messing it up."

"That sounds like an excuse," He points out in bemused skepticism. 

"How would you know? Been in a lot of omega nests? Are you an expert on omega nesting habits?" Megumi snips. He's defensive and a tad bit irrational, but he's still smarting from Gojo's perceived rejection.

Mostly, he's angry with himself.

Megumi effectively asked him to share his heat. The magnitude of his request and the vulnerability he displayed dawned on him. It shows the trust the alpha has for him is reciprocated to some extent, and he opened himself up in hope, in supplication for something he thought they both wanted.

He doesn't know what to think of that. 

Gojo cocks his head, "Are you still mad?"

Megumi huffs, turns on his side, shoves an arm under his pillow, and petulantly gives the alpha his back, "About what?"

"Our family planning."

Is that what he's calling it? The bastard.

"Your family planning," Megumi retorts caustically.

"Megumi..." Gojo sighs.

Is he going there? He better not. His expectation isn't unreasonable. Their marriage contract specifically details the importance of heats and ruts for reproduction and the restrictions on their relationship and on others. There is an infidelity clause, and that means Megumi cannot seek out anyone for his heat. 

"You'll have to find accommodations for the third week of June."

"What?"

Megumi sits up and glares, "You think just because you said no, I won't go into heat? My health is more important than your family planning."

Gojo does not rise to the bait, no, when it comes to matters he deems important, he abandons his flippancy and uses that keen intellect to throw Megumi off guard.

"So you want me there, that's all you had to say."

The audacity, the gall, the unmitigated gumption. Megumi's fists clench, and he turns to face the alpha.

"No, if the intent isn't for breeding, then its just fucking," His lips curls. "And if that's the case, I'll go with my second option."

"What," there's a dangerous quality to his voice, slow and lethal. "Is your second option?"

When they were kids, Gojo was quick to anger, but it was teenage petulance; he was arrogant and amused by the world and its mortal trappings. As an adult, his anger is slow to stir; exasperation is as far as it will rise, but it appears that it is a quiet, sinister, slow-seeping poison.

It is the response Megumi wants; it is better than his calm, his rationality, his reasonable responses.

"Toys," Megumi drawls, "They come in different varieties, sizes, and," He leans in close "...rhythms." He looks into his glowing eyes, and the alpha's jaw clenches. Megumi smirks, "Did you think I would break our vows?"

"You'd rather use sex toys than accept my help?" He sounds calmer than Megumi expected, but that slow-seeping poison lingers 

"Yup," He replies, mimicking Gojo at his most irreverent. "No baby, no pussy."

Gojo closes his eyes, and his jaw flexes. "Is that all you think I want from you?"

Megumi says nothing, his point remains.

"Why are you in such a hurry? Is there something I should know?"

"Five years," he holds up five fingers and talks slowly enough to insult the alpha's intelligence. "Two babies, that's 18 months, two years between to recover and acclimate myself to motherhood. If we wait one year, then that means postpartum mid-divorce. I'm not taking care of a newborn alone, let alone handling a toddler at the same time."

Gojo stares at him, then covers his face with his hands and groans.

"Megumi," He says with exasperated fondness, "What am I gonna do with you?" 

Megumi is offended. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Has it occurred to you that the marriage period is negotiable?"

"Yes," but anything longer is a ruinous thought to entertain.

"How many children do you want?"

Four, but two is what he'll settle with, but he says, "Three."

"Then we stay married," He says plainly.

"For how long?" Megumi wants to know. If he says anything, he'll set himself up. For what? He knows not.

"As long as you want," He promises. 

"Really? It wouldn't be fair for the oldest children to experience us as a family, but the youngest doesn't." 

"Then we stay together indefinitely." It is a vow, a brand marked into his soul.

Megumi closes his eyes tightly. That's what he wanted to hear in his heart of hearts. "Can we really?"

"Yes," Gojo says adamantly, "If that's what you want."

"I want four," Megumi reveals.

Gojo reaches out across the barricade and takes Megumi's hand. The omega quickly knots his fingers through his.

"Then we'll have four. I've always wanted to be a father."
 
Megumi can't help but smile.

There's a sense of novelty in sharing space with another person.

Megumi lived in an omega house in uni, alone in grad school, and cohabitated with an ex-boyfriend during his doctoral program. Then, he lived alone, contemplated marriage with his last ex, and made plans to move in before the relationship fell apart. 

Now, he's married to an unlikely husband and experiencing many firsts.

Gojo was always a presence Megumi couldn't ignore, and now that he's bullied, propositioned, seduced, and exploited his way back into his life. Megumi makes space for the devil he knows.

Megumi finally puts away his winter clothes and clears out space in his closet and dressers. He pulls out the vacuum seal bags and vacuum and gets to work. 

The alpha is out. He has business to attend to. He's run out of clothes and needs to pick up more, has errands to run, a mission or two to complete, a nosy family to ignore, government officials to terrify, and a private conglomerate to run. 

And Megumi does what he's signed up for. To be a stay-at-home wife. 

He set out the futon to air out, put his and Gojo's clothes in the laundry, and set up the drying rack in the living room and balcony.

Megumi's mobile vibrates, and he stops the vacuum. 

It's Chika-senpai.

Megumi quickly reads her message, responds, screenshots the conversation, and sends it to Gojo.

The response is quick.

Gojo: That's fine.

Me: Are you sure? Won't this make post-nuptial negotiations harder?

Gojo: Of course, ☆(>ᴗ•).
Gojo: It's a shared asset; it'll be handled as we agreed. Do you want it?

Me: I do.

Gojo: then that's all that matters. 

Megumi wonders if that's all it takes. Gojo said half the battle is his acquiescence, should he just accept his munificence?

Gojo: When are the tours?

Me: Next week, she has three houses lined up.

Gojo: Send me the time and date.

Me: Maybe we should share a calendar?

Gojo: Even better.

Me: I'll set it up.

Gojo: Thank you, ⸜(⸝⸝⸝'꒳`⸝⸝⸝)⸝.

He turns the vacuum back on. Maybe he should cook dinner? He's not the best cook, that's Gojo's domain, but he knows basic recipes.

His mobile vibrates again. 

It's his dad.

"Shit."

Chapter Text

"Mung bean flavor?"

"We tried that last time."

"Purple sweet potato?"

"Too safe, live life on the edge!"

This is a monthly routine. Satoru sees his father thrice a month, but these occasions echo moments from his childhood. Those rare moments when his father could be Dad. 

"All right, something savory, something sweet, and something unconventional."

"Miso, yuba, and squid ink."

"Ooooh, Yuba? I'll try that. Buckwheat-tea, yuba, and natto."

"Individually or together?"

"Is that a challenge?" 

Gojo Takumi grins, "If you're up to it. No RCT."

"Blech! No, thank you!"

Father cackles. 

Gojo's mobile vibrates. He usually ignores his notifications during these ventures, but he can't anymore. 

He has a family of his own, a wife he would dearly like to depend on. It would be in bad form not to respond in a timely manner. 

"Excuse me." He pulls out his mobile, unlocks it, and quickly reads Megumi's message. 

"Who's that?"

Grey hair clouds his vision, and Satoru deftly moves his phone from view. 

"Your son-in-law," he deadpans and quickly types out a response. He contemplates the appropriate emoji, one that will emphasize his statement, annoy or amuse Megumi, and be quintessentially him.

"Oh, ho, ho, hiding a secret wife? That's in character. How many grandkids do I have?"

"None yet, but you'll be the first to know," Satoru says blasely. He settles on spamming their chat with a multitude of emojis. That will annoy the omega, but Megumi's irritation is cute and his reactions are hilarious, if exasperating.

"When will I meet him?"

"In two weeks at a formal dinner with his parents." 

Satoru shoots off a quick email to his personal assistant. When he ran a background check on Megumi, he had that request extended to his parents. Fushiguro Toji's past concludes in a slew of redacted files. All the private investigator was able to ascertain was that the man possessed a special skill set that was prized by government entities, high-profile people, and individuals the public has never heard of and never will. The mother isn't much better; their trail ended at twenty and begins again at thirty, where public records reveal a marriage to Fushiguro Toji and a baby born December 22, 1989.

It was an interesting revelation. He always thought Megumi's parents were ordinary citizens who ran miscellaneous commercial businesses out of their apartment building in Osaka.   

It explained Megumi's prowess with weapons and hand-to-hand combat. He didn't grow up with the Zen'in, but he was raised by two equally lethal individuals.

If he has to meet them, he wants to prepare gifts and make a good first impression. Megumi isn't like him. He cares about his family, and Satoru wants whatever makes Megumi happy.

Unfortunately, that also means telling his family, and it is likely to cause an uproar.

But they are not their forefathers. They are not beholden to tradition; they will make their own standards.

"Is it someone I know? One of the candidates the matchmaker procured?" 

"Procured?" Satoru questions sardonically. "You mean chose? Things are different now, old man." 

Father disregards his censure and flippantly says, "No matter how much they dress it up, the process is the same, the verbiage and terms are different to appease your generation. Now," Father's tone is more buoyant. "Is it the Mori Emiri? You two courted for nearly a year."

"We broke up two years ago. His family tried to sue for damages," He says dryly. 

"Oh yeah," Father recalls, "that was funny."

Satoru snickers, Megumi responded to the influx of spam with a picture of a middle finger. 

"I'll give a clue." Satoru doesn't like his family, but he loves his dad, even when his views align with the clan's. "His surname is Fushiguro."

Father's dark eyes widen, recognition dawning, "Ah, I remember him!" 

Father can't remember his last relationship, a match that would have been considered politically advantageous over a century ago. Now it meant nothing, just vestiges of a dead world and the futile efforts of a diminishing clan attempting to gain a foothold in a microcosm that observes many of the traditions of centuries past. But Father can recall a boy he met nearly twenty years ago, it shows that Satoru may have buried his recollections of Megumi deep within his memory, but Megumi is a presence that can't be denied.

"You two destroyed half the Kyoto campus. The was funny as well," Father chuckles and shakes his head.

Satoru rolls his eyes, "I nearly died."

"But you didn't, and you learned not to underestimate your opponent," Father points out sagaciously. "It was a stupid and expensive mistake."

"It wasn't a mistake," Satoru divulges, "We planned it."

Father looks like he's contemplating murder, a common occurrence where Satoru is concerned, and then he sighs. "Never mention this to the clan elders or your aunt and uncle."

Satoru shrugs, "I never had a challenge. Megumi is my equal, so it made sense to use him as the catalyst to overcome my mental impediment."

"So violence was the answer? That's extreme."

"Violence is always the answer," He replies, jaded and slightly embittered. "It just depends on the degree of violence."

Father becomes somber and nods gravely. 

They order at the kiosk, and as they wait for their order to be called, Father turns to him, perturbed.

"The Zen'in heir? Are you sure? That's a conflict of interest."

"Debatable," is his swift rejoinder. "Megumi wasn't interested in leadership then, and I doubt it's changed now."

"You don't know for sure?"

"He wouldn't have married me if it were an issue. If he wanted power, he would have taken another route," Satoru replies. "He would have followed your example."

Satoru's father is an omega. 

The Gojo are progressive; an omega can hold a position of power, but there are caveats, stringent rules that are observed and enforced. The preference for males is adhered, male omegas can impregnant, but cannot experience motherhood. Motherhood is the antithesis of leadership. Possessing the duality of a primary and secondary gender means straddling binaries; in this case, Father had to choose one, he could not be both. Marrying would undermine his dominion, having children would cause unneeded speculation and scrutiny, so he remained a bachelor and adopted an heir from a cadet branch.

He adopted Satoru and killed two birds with one stone: the problem of succession and probable usurpers.

"That would be impossible," Father muses, "The Zen'in would never allow it."

"Zen'in Jininchi would," Satoru corrects, "And everyone else in his party, but the rest wouldn't."

"It would be a massacre," Father remarks, "Personally, I'd like to see Zen'in Maki succeed Jinichi. Yuuta would be well settled."

Their number is called, Satoru gets up, grabs their tray, and brings it back to their table. 

Father grabs the cup labeled squid ink and grins, "Don't throw up!"

Satoru takes one scoop of the natto mixed ice cream and hums.

"How does it taste?"

"Like pistachio, yours?"

"Briny," Father replies, and takes another bite. "Like umami."

"Weird, but expected. Hey, do you mind taking a detour after this? I want your opinion on something."

Interest piqued, Father says, "What for?"
   
"Rings."

Chapter Text

"How long will you be gone for?"

It's been two days.

"Why Megumi," He can hear his shit-eating smile, "do you miss me?"

Gojo could come home; he could easily travel back and forth, but Megumi would barely see him. He would arrive late in the night and leave long before twilight dawned. The alpha may have stated he would make time for Megumi, but he has paid for his indulgence. 

Megumi recalls Gojo's calendar; the alpha is busy. How many obligations did he shrug just to remain at Megumi's side?

He feels slightly guilty, but that feeling is minute in comparison to his mounting irritation.

"No," He says tartly. "I plan to visit Utahime-senpai and meet a wedding planner. I wanted to know if you wanted to be included." 

"See Utahime? Nope, but I wouldn't mind catching up with Mei."

"No, you idiot, I wouldn't put you and senpai in the same room. I meant the wedding planner."

"Are we sampling cake?"

Megumi wonders if he's being obtuse on purpose; if so, he doesn't appreciate it. This is important to him.

"Never mind," He grits out, frustration acute. "It's in the calendar, if you want to come, you know the time and place."

"You do miss me!" Gojo crows. 

He does, the apartment is empty without him. As long as he has been alone, he has quickly acclimated to living with someone again.

But it isn't just anyone, it's Satoru. There's always been a connection between them.

"I'm hanging up!"

"Megumi, I'll be back in three days, a week tops. I'm making arrangements and delegating my responsibilities. I miscalculated, and now I need to rectify my mistakes. I'm slammed with work, but I'll be home before you know it."

Megumi bites his lip. It's a reasonable explanation, it's an acknowledgement of the alpha's absence, and an apology for his irreverence. 

"Should I come to you?" He asks hesitantly.

"Would you?" There's wonder in his tone.

"Yes." 

He pauses, "I can't promise I'll be around."

That's okay, it wouldn't be any different from him coming home to Kyoto, but at least Megumi made the effort to bridge the gap between them. 

"The point is that we're with each other, right?" He wants to bury his face in a pillow and scream incoherently. 

"It sounds like you miss me," Gojo teases.

"I'm hanging up!"

"I miss you," The alpha confesses truthfully, and Megumi feels his heart stutter.

"I miss you, too," he mumbles.

Gojo snickers. The bastard.

"When are you coming?"

Megumi wants to throw himself out a window. "Um, tomorrow night or the next morning?"

"What about the repairs for the door and genkan?"

"The door was replaced today, but the repairs won't be complete for another three weeks."

"I can arrange for that to be taken care of this week," Gojo offers.

"No, no, no, you have too much on your plate," Megumi reassures.

"It's not a problem, I'll tell my personal assistant to take care of it."

"Personal assistant?" Megumi questions slowly.

"Yeah, I'm awesome, but not that awesome. Who do you think organizes my life?"

Megumi doesn't think he likes someone having that much access to their personal lives. 

"No, it's fine. It's scheduled, I'll send you the quote."

"Okay, if you say so," Gojo says doubtfully. 

"Yes," He affirms pertly.

"While you're here, would you like to look into Tokyo neighborhoods while you're here?"

The alpha wants to keep two residences. Megumi has half a mind to tell him to keep his apartment for the time being, but knows once he's there, he'll insist on finding a home that will accommodate their future family.

"Yeah, do you have any recommendations?"

"Sanbancho, Shoto, Akasaka and Aoyama," He answers without pause. "But I would consider Kawasaki, Chiba, or Saitama, especially if you want a house."

"...Let me guess, this was part of your grand plan."

"How'd you guess!?" Gojo says impishly.

Chapter Text

2006

Darkness recedes, and the graveyard of weapons that echo the battles fought and the war ultimately lost by his ancestor becomes a mirage. The old weapons covered in rust and congealed blood disappear, but the newer weapons, the ones pulled from Megumi's arsenal, melt back into the diminishing shadow.

The half-formed skeleton that harkens to Takiyasha no Hime's cursed technique, the shikigami conjuration Gashadokuro, the yokai that could devour anything, begins to disintegrate. The tendrils of nerves that fanned out to form a semi-done, planting themselves like roots into the earth, turning it grey, seeking residual cursed energy, crumble and become ash. 

Megumi's domain expansion disappears, and a gossamer cloud of pulsing lights replaces it. Round Deer presses its head to Megumi's. 

Blood drips from the stump of his severed arm, and he bites back a scream as it grows back. His ribs ache; he's covered in burns that heal into new tender skin. His leg is twisted, Megumi grits his teeth and resettles it to heal properly. 

Somewhere nearby, Gojo Satoru is soaked in blood and sweat, his uniform torn, covered in gashes, bite marks, and burns. Surrounded by blue orbs that ominously circle around and above him.  

It was a terrible idea to begin with, so Megumi makes it worse. He does not have the training, prowess, nor innate skill as Gojo Satoru, but he is the threat Zen'in Jinichi gleefully unveiled.

Megumi rises when he is remade anew. 

He reaches down into his shadow and summons two swords.

Ten Shadows is mutated. 

Six Eyes mutated once, and it resulted in the destruction of one of the Gojo cadet branches.

Ten Shadows mutated and appeared in a cadet branch, but instead of killing off his father and mother, his uncle embraced them.

It's funny how they parallel.

Megumi laughs hysterically.

Ten Shadows has mutated, Megumi has always had his shadows, all of them, some more than others.

Megumi has all of his shadows.

Ten Shadows is the same, it is different.

Kogarasu-maru and the Kogarashi are swords passed down in the Taira main line. Kogarasu-maru and the Kogarashi are the swords of every Ten Shadows wielder.

Kogarasu-maru and the Kogarashi are the swords of Taira no Masakado used in the battles fought and the war ultimately lost.

Megumi summons two swords and stabs them into the ground. Darkness explodes from his shadow. One thousand swords stab his back, one thousand arrows pierce his back, and one thousand spears pierce his back. He bows forward, blood spilling from his mouth, pooling from his back.

Megumi bears the weight of the battles fought and the war ultimately lost. He is deemed worthy.

The eight-handled wheel becomes visible and begins to spin.

A pack of black and white wolves howl to an unknown moon, and an army of toads croak.

Megumi says those damning words, "With this treasure I summon.."

The shadows are deep, dark, and lovely. They bubble and pop where they meet his blood. The scent of iron thick and heady. It takes it as an offering in return for something hellish.

"Eight-Handled Sword Divergent Sila Divine General Mahoraga."

It emerges not from a cocoon, it steps out of the shadow that threatens to encompass all. 

A towering behemoth of a beast. A humanoid, celestial monstrosity. 

The croaking of the toads demand he return home, but he will not. Not without his head, not until his hunger for revenge is quenched, and the blood of his kin soaks the earth from the horror his daughter wrought upon his mortal body.

The shikigami stops by Megumi's side.

Gojo Satoru seeks enlightenment, well who better than the vestige of a god to fell a god.

Megumi smiles with blood-soaked teeth. "Kill."

"How many months are you?"

Some people know young.

It's usually alphas and omegas.

Megumi knew, but he kept it in the shadow of his heart.

Utahime-senpai and Mei-senpai knew it; they mated and married as soon as Utahime-senpai graduated. Yuuji and Junpei had their future planned the moment they met. Nobara and Shoko were the same, but were on and off again until they finally committed. 

Megumi thought the Gojo and Suguru were similar, but look how that turned out.

He used to be jealous.

He still is.

He wanted to join their ranks. 

As they went through various life stages, Megumi was left in the dust. 

He is married now, he'll have his happy ending. 

"Seven," There's heartbreaking happiness in her smile. "We're keeping it low-key, after Tomo-chan we had many disappointments." She runs her belly and grins wider, "This one is our rainbow baby."

Shoko-san is probably monitoring this pregnancy. Not all omegas are blessed with the fecundity associated with their gender. Utahime-senpai learned that the hard way. 

"I'm so happy for you," He says earnestly.

"Thank you, Megu-chan."

On the living room floor, Iori Tomoka and Mei-senpai carefully construct a massive puzzle.

"When are you having one of your own?" The alpha questions. "That idiot wants to be a dad."

Megumi blanches.

"He t-told you!?"

"We're cousins, we both loathe our family. Of course, he told me. Mutual spite."

He didn't know that, how come he didn't know that? Is MeiMei an alias? 

"What are you two talking about?" 

Mei-senpai's slate grey eyes gleam with familiar mischief. "A surprise. Megumi, please summon Round Deer. I wouldn't want Utahime to get overworked." 

"What the hell are you talking about!?"

Tomoka doesn't look up from the puzzle, but she does call her mother out on her infraction. "Mama said a bad word. Pay the toll."

"Papa's provoking me!"

"Papa is a meanie, time out and no dinner!"

Chapter Text

Not everyone will be happy for him.

Not everyone will support his choices.

He forgot that Mei-senpai has a mean streak that is a mile wide. He thought Utahime-senpai's disdain for Gojo had cooled with age.

She looks at him with disappointment and concern. "Are you serious?" 

Megumi looks down into his coffee cup.

"Why him?" The repugnance in her last question makes his hands tighten around the coffee cup. 

Megumi met Iori Utahime his freshmen year of high school. She was a senior and the last surviving student of a three-man class. She was the odd man out, the person least expected to survive the dismally high mortality rate of first and second years. She proved that the greatest game ever played, the survival of the fittest, is not won through strength but through cunning. 

She took him and Nobara under her wing and taught them how to balance the tightrope between their traditional roles and the demand for their power.

He admired her.

Her disappointment hurts.

"When did this happen? I thought you two weren't in contact."

"It's a recent development," Mei volunteers.

"I'm not talking to you; you're on my shit list," Utahime rebukes. "I told you to stop doing that."

"Bad word!"

"I know, baby! Mama will pay the toll!" She turns to Megumi, "Let's relocate to the porch."

"No, I should go," Megumi keeps his voice neutral. 

"Don't, I'm just worried. It's just strange. Why now? How long were you dating? I thought you hated his guts, especially after he strung you along your second year and after-"

"It just happened," Megumi interrupts sharply and tries to keep his voice level in respect to her high-risk pregnancy. He doesn't want to be questioned, nor does he want to reminisce on past transgressions. 

Utahime's lips purse, and her eyes narrow, "Do you love him?"

"That's between me and him," He says simply, tone brokering no argument.

But Utahime-senpai is not one to back down, "Does he love you?"

If it mattered, Megumi would have never agreed; unrequited feelings or requited feelings have no place here. They are adults now; they make arrangements and decisions based on security and companionship.

It mattered when Megumi was a kid and had stars in his eyes. It died when he saw Gojo kissing Suguru, it died when Tsumiki was cursed, it died when Gojo confronted him, it died when the stars in Gojo's eyes mocked him and called him a fool.  

But that was then, and this is now.

"That's between me and him. You'll get an invitation to our wedding in the mail. I hope you can set aside old grudges and attend. I'd like you to be there." Megumi puts down his coffee, gets up, and leaves.

He does not look back. He ignores Utahime's calls, Tomoka's innocent question and goodbye, and misses the flash of regret that passes Mei's face.

When he makes it outside, he sniffles and wipes his eyes.

He'll cancel the meeting with the wedding planner; finding a house is a priority now. The wedding can wait.

He wonders if there's even a point, if this will be the general consensus.

Chapter Text

"Mei-senpai was always been a bitch, a hot bitch, but a bitch nonetheless."

"I don't know why she did that."

Megumi is the type to compartmentalize his emotions. His day was ruined, and he no longer wanted to meet the wedding planner, but he rescheduled it for next week. It's a consultation. He wants an idea of what a 10-person ceremony would consist of, the budget, vendors, the ceremony location, a 50-person reception, the afterparty, etc.

But since he has time on his hands, he should make himself busy.

He traveled to Tokyo by train from Uji. He spent the journey filtering through the links Chika sent, the photos of the local listings not reported on realtor sites, and favoriting what he liked. Then, he began looking into the neighborhoods Gojo recommended.

Then he arrived at his destination.

Gojo lives in a two-story apartment in the Shoto neighborhood of the Shibuya ward. He pictured him in a high-rise in the Minato ward.

He doesn't want to think about the rent on this place, the price tag on his place boggled his mind, but he wanted a full kitchen and a view. 

It's everything he expects of a bachelor of his status, sleek and elegant, but he also expected more character. His dorm room walls had hosted posters and photos, his bookcase filled with VHS' and DVDs, the floor had piles of books, manga, and comics, the desk was covered with CD binders, the bed unmade, home to his CD player and iPod.

Gojo was a mediaphile. It was reflected in his use of obscure pop culture references.

Did age and maturity strip him of his sense of whimsy?

Sometimes Megumi mourns the boy he once was, but that is just a part of growing up.

"Bright Eyes will be pissed."

"If I tell him." 

Megumi climbs the stairs, continuing his exploration. He spent fifteen minutes exploring the kitchen. Gojo does indeed cook; the dishwasher is filled with clean dishes, and there are leftovers in the fridge. Or he's a liar who enlists a meal prep service. "Utahime-senpai is dealing with a high-risk pregnancy. She doesn't need any added stress."

"She's pregnant!?" Nobara squeals. "No wonder she's been so evasive."

Megumi winces and pulls out his earbuds. He waits until her excitement dies down. "You didn't hear it from me."

"My lips are sealed, unlike Mei-senpai," She derides. 

"He didn't tell her much." 

Megumi jumps. The lights turn on automatically. Light sensors? 

"How do you know?"

"Gojo isn't the type to show all his cards; his schemes have machinations. Even as kids, Gojo was pretty reserved and played up the village idiot ruse." Megumi opens the first door. It's a study, but it contains all the life this flat lacks. It's a mature version of Gojo's dorm room. Megumi steps inside. "When he opened up, it was like speaking to a different person." 

"Shoko says the same thing," Nobara pauses, "You two were pretty close at one time."

Megumi absently touches the VHS tapes on the shelves; it's the same collection. "We were," he says, wistfulness in his undertone. "That's why I don't hold what Utahime-senpai said against her. She heard one side of the story, and there are four points of view: his, hers, theirs, and the truth."

"Megumi," Nobara hesitates. "Do you still love him?"

He thought he did, especially after he took his virginity, but that meant more to him than it did to the alpha. Ultimately, he chose Suguru, he chose the omega who wasn't desperate enough to open his legs just to get an iota of attention. 

Then he hated him. 

But hate isn't the opposite of love; that's indifference. 

"No, I'm fond of him. I've always been, but I wouldn't call it love. I've experienced it; it's nothing like that," Megumi stares at the wall of photos. There are pictures of Gojo, Nanami Kento, Haibara Yuu, Gojo's students, Okkotsu Yuuta, Maki and Mai, Shoko, Nobara, Kyosuke, Utahimi, Mei, Tomoka, and an older man with white and silver hair associated with the Gojo clan. Another is of him and Gojo on their wedding day; it's the most recent addition; it's a thoughtful one.

It's the sign of a watershed.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?"

Megumi leaves the room and closes the door behind him.

The past is the past; let it stay dead.

"In for a penny, in for a pound."

He wants to see what kind of bathroom this place offers. He hopes the tub is deep and wide. He wants a nice soak after a long day of traveling. 

Chapter Text

2006

"You just know," Megumi shrugs helplessly.

"You just know?" Gojo mocks, "I don't."

"That sounds like a you problem," Megumi replies derisively.

Gojo scowls, "I'm making it everyone's problem."

"Brat," Suguru mutters.

"What about your family archives?" Nobara asks.

"Nothing, nada, zilch," Gojo grouses.

"Definitely a you problem. Old families like yours keep extensive records."

"Well, since you know so much, how the hell did you figure it out?"

"I asked."

"What the hell does that mean!?"

Megumi's filthy glare answers him.

Gojo sighs and petulantly apologizes.

"Shikigami conjuration is usually a reflection of the soul. Ten Shadow is..."

Megumi casts a discreet glance at Nobara, Shoko, and Suguru.

It's not that he doesn't trust them; he trusts some more than others, but these are family secrets. What might be mythology to them is history to him.

He'll keep his explanation perfunctory and hope Gojo can bridge the gaps and connect the dots.

"You know the legends," At Gojo's confirmation, he continues. "Well, the tenth Shikigami is the lynchpin. Each shikigami is a curse energy construct, but the vows that bind them are different from the previous Ten Shadows users."

"Which is why you have all of your shikigami."

Megumi nods.

"What's the catch?"

"Equivalent exchange," Megumi says succinctly.

In a corridor of four doors, there are two bedrooms, a toilet and a bathroom. It's a strange layout; the bathroom is usually on the first floor or near the kitchen. 

The tub is as deep and wide as an onsen tub; it overlooks the greenspace on the apartment's first-floor balcony. Megumi loves it.

The last door is slightly ajar, and it's no secret whose room it belongs to. The scent of the alpha is strongest there, potent and thick. Megumi feels slightly dizzy as he opens the door and is inundated with alpha pheromones. 

The bed dominates the room. It's huge; Gojo is a tall man, but this is too much space even for him. 

Megumi is suddenly reminded of Gojo's comment, turns an alarming puce, and closes his eyes in mortification.

He walks back into the hall, finds the linen closet, finds fresh bedding, walks back into the room, turns on the light, strips the bed, opens the windows, and turns on the ventilation system.

Before he's pushed into a phantom heat, he hurries out of the room with the old sheets, and heads downstairs to the washing machine off the kitchen.

It doesn't even smell like rut. It's the scent of virility, concentrated, left to ripen and crust over.

It leaves him wet, panties sticking uncomfortably to the folds of his cunt and molded to the turgid head of his cock. 

Megumi leans against the washing machine, closes his eyes, and breathes deeply. The alpha's potent scent lingers.

Should he...?

Heat is different; it's a loss of inhibitions, the fire that burns, the fever that consumes. He can lose himself in the fire, fire, burning bright. 

He can blame it on his dry spell, but as the days pass the more he yearns.

It's just sex, nothing more, nothing less.

But...

He bites his lip.

He worries that it'll lead to longing of another kind, and that's the last thing he needs.

2006

"There's no such thing as altruism."

Megumi is offended, but there is no affront when none is intended. 

"True altruism is a scam," Gojo remarks wryly. "Think of it as a favor."

"It can't be a favor if I'm offering to help," Megumi offers.

"How you perceive it and how I perceive it doesn't matter; what matters is the end result," Gojo says judiciously.

"Whatever," Megumi snaps, annoyed, "I'll help."

Gojo cocks his head, "Careful, voluntary or not, your acquiescence could be taken advantage of."

"What?" He bites out. He doesn't like what he's insinuating.

Blue peers over the sark horizon of round shades. He is seen, he is perceived, he is stripped piece by piece and laid bare.

"You have a martyr complex; you're willing to sacrifice yourself for others until there's nothing left. You're volunteering for a task that could kill us both. Do you not value your life?"

"Fuck you, this isn't charity, now I'm doing it to kick your ass."

Gojo grins, and Megumi wonders if he's been played. "Good, come at me with the intent to kill. If you half-ass it, you'll disappoint me."

It doesn't matter; it's the principle of the matter now.

"Fuck your expectations."

"The last time we fought, you held back and conceded. What kind of rival would I be if I didn't demand your best?"

"Fuck you, fuck your rivalry and the high horse you came in on."

Gojo chuckles, "I love it when you talk dirty to me."

Megumi cringes.

Chapter Text

2006

Words have power.

A summoning is started by a signal. A ritual begins with incantations.

In this ritual, Megumi bears the weight of the battles Taira no Masakado fought and the war he ultimately lost.

To ensure the shikigami wins the battle, he is allowed a series of commands that are vows that bind the shikigami.

Megumi said kill; that task will be carried out until the objective is complete.

The eight-handled wheel has adapted four times and Gojo Satoru has not awakened. His tricks are predictable; his time is running out. Mahoraga will kill him.

Megumi should have said maim.

No one can say he isn't helpful. He wanted to aid him, but he also wanted to prove a point. What point? He no longer knows. He has to stop the onslaught.

Through bloody teeth, Megumi rasps, "Stop."

The command does not work.

He harkened, and the vestige of his ancestor answered his call, but the order is not complete.

Megumi rises unsteadily from bended knee, his soul bears the brunt of every attack, his grasp on consciousness is feat of resilience. His blood loss is alarming, but he is the foothold of power for the tenth shikigami; he cannot fall until the Mahoraga does.

So Megumi must take off its head.

The war must become a loss.

He replaces himself with a doubleganger. It temporarily bears the weight of one thousand swords, one thousand arrows, and one thousand spears.

That catches the shikigami's attention.

Megumi reaches for the swords buried deep in the earth. Where the shadows writhe uninhibited and threaten to swallow all.

That gains the shikigami's wrath.

It appears before him, its speed astonishing, its presence terrifying. It has gone rogue. It recognizes the blood relation, it recognizes incoming betrayal, and it reacts accordingly.

But instead of cutting down the blood traitor, the scion of his daughter's damned lineage. It guts its original target.

Gojo Satoru takes the blow.

He returns late in the night.

Satoru pulls off his blindfold and rubs his eyes tiredly. He doesn't need sleep, but he craves it nonetheless. 

He returns to an empty apartment. Wait. No, it's not.

He pauses. 

He'd know his cursed signature anywhere.

Megumi's here.

Satoru finds the energy to lope up the stairs, silently walk down the corridor, and peer into the open doorway of his bedroom. 

That's a sight he'd never thought he'd see, an omega nest in his bed. Some base instinct is satisfied, it shivers in delight: omega likes his den, omega feels safe, omega likes his scent, omega trust him.

There's space for him, but a portion is dedicated to Megumi's comfort. It's made of items he brought from him, and linen he took from Gojo's closet. The omega has yet to invite him in to share his nest, but Satoru is patient. 

The room smells fresh, his sweetness and Megumi's warm spice.

He steps inside and makes his way to Megumi's side. The black lupine guardian briefly opens one eye where it sleeps beside Megumi's head. It turns green and then closes when it registers him. 

Megumi's mastery of his technique never failed to fascinate him when they were young.

He regrets what he said when he found out Megumi was leaving it all behind. 

He has many regrets.

His decision to follow his heart left many to deal with the fall out.

Satoru sits on the floor, and rest his head on crossed arms and watches Megumi slowly inhale and exhale.

There are many things he wants to say, words are inadequate, they fail to express the breadth and depth of his emotions.

He reaches out and strokes his the soft skin of his cheek.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, "I was careless with you. I'll do better this time. I promise."

Chapter Text

On the first night, he comes home late and leaves before the dawn.

This is not his home, so, when Gojo appears, Megumi is roused from the realm of Somnus and peers through the eye of a wolf.

Gojo's presence is insidious and lethal upon his enemies, and ominous and imposing to his allies and peers. But to Megumi, he inspires a depth of conflicting thoughts and emotions that tangle into an amalgamation he knows the name of but will not entertain thoughts of. 

He settles back into sleep, swearing he hears Gojo's voice speaking in the quiet of the night.

The next morning, he awakens to a loud alarm in a pitch-black room. Megumi reaches blindly for his mobile, finding it under Kuro's bulk, and blurrily stares at the screen or tries to, but his vision is blocked. 

He closes his eyes shut and is besieged by a sudden yawn. 

Megumi sleepily touches his face and feels the flat surface of a piece of paper. What the fuck.

He rips it off and turns on the flashlight on his phone.

It's a sticky note.

He reads it.

The words do not register at first glance; on the second, he feels familiar irritation mount.

Good morning! Is written in bold script. Did you know you drool when you sleep? Is written in smaller font.

What the fuck.

No, he doesn't.

Megumi wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, then angles the flashlight on it; it's dry. That bastard!

He checks the time and wonders if he's hallucinating.

It's 7:30 a.m., but it's still dark out. 

Megumi tumbles out of bed, uses his mobile as a guide, finds the light switch, curses loudly when suddenly blinded by the light, and then stumbles over to the curtain and stares dumbly out the window.

Oh, black-out curtains.

A thought dawns on him. 

Gojo uses them for his sensitive eyes.

He finds the next sticky note on the bathroom mirror. 

Absently, he notes the handwriting is elegant yet flamboyant.

It reads: Thank you for coming, did you bring your shampoo and conditioner? They smell better than mine. 

Megumi shakes his head and continues brushing his teeth. No wonder the bottles felt lighter; he hopes the alpha stays away from his skincare products; he doesn't need them; Megumi gets hormonal acne. 

The last note is on the coffeemaker, and Megumi wishes he had brought his expresso maker. 

Coffee isn't food; you can't exist on caffeine.

He can, and he will.

He opens the fridge and pulls out the staples. Just because he can doesn't mean he should. 

The second night is similar to the first, but it's evident that the time Gojo spent at home was negligible. 

How long did he sleep?

The alpha's side of the bed is cold and unmade. There are clothes in his hamper, the closet is open, and dresser drawers appear rifled through. 

Megumi wonders about his health.

He knows he uses RCT to cancel out the adverse effects of Infinity, but how does that impact his well-being?

Is he physically fit but mentally drained? How often does he allow himself to rest? Is he eating? Is he drinking enough water? How is he emotionally? 

When Gojo was with him, he slept and woke up when Megumi did. Was that his only time of reprieve?

It's like he's still carrying the weight of the world. 

Megumi frowns.

Didn't he take steps to fix this? Didn't he ensure the world wouldn't rely on Gojo Satoru?  

Megumi doesn't have his ear on the pulse of gossip. He hears news from Nobara, who hears it from Shoko. He hears about the state of things from his uncle. He's kept abreast of radical changes from Utahime-senpai's grumblings. He's made aware of the parallels of history from Naoya's caustic remarks. Nevertheless, Megumi does not involve himself in affairs unconnected to him, but even he knows Gojo Satoru is behind it.

Megumi naively thought it was resolved.

Policy changes, implementing new laws, and amending old laws in a society rooted so deeply in tradition is just one step in an uphill battle. This Sisyphean task will be met with opposition, subtle and blatant, sabotage and challenge.

Gojo is a force of nature, but even he cannot break the mightiest of mountains without brute force. Change is gradual; much like water, it will erode all obstacles with time.

Megumi feels a degree of culpability in his plight. He never had an interest in warfare, and though he partook in the training of a foot soldier with the understanding that he would one day become a general, a leader of his clan, and the commander of the Zen'in forces. 

Megumi was only interested in jujutsu theory, academia, and history. He wanted to explore the boundaries of Tengen's teachings and push the limits of his technique. He didn't care about the greater good, the ongoing war against humanity's scourge, and held a healthy disdain for the government and the so-called glorious purpose they shackled them with.

If he had stayed true to the path, he could have eased Gojo's burden. What is Ten Shadows but the equivalent of Six Eyes? But Megumi carved out his own purpose once he was confronted with his hubris. He pays penance for an incident he castigates himself over and swore to help within the bounds of science, within the limits of humanity, instead of playing the role of a god.

But Gojo chose this path, this burden to carry. He could have shrugged it all, but he took it onto his broad shoulders and chose to find solutions for centuries-old quagmires. 

Megumi just thought that with the influx of new shamans and protections put in place for sorcerers in training, Gojo would be moved to the bottom of the active duty roster, put in reserves, regarded as the nuclear option. 

It appears that there is no rest for the devil. Megumi wonders where his priorities will lie once they decide to grow their family. 

The third brings in the night that crawls in.

Megumi's skin feels too tight for his body. Angst coats his skin and leaves him restless. If he moves, his hands shake; if he stays still, his muscles tense.

He cleans the kitchen, the bathroom, the living, the office, the hall, and the bedroom. He reorganizes the closet and shoe organizer in the genkan, the refrigerator, cabinets, Gojo's closet and dressers, and the linen closet. He does not touch the alpha's collections or anything he deems personal and precious to Gojo, like his watch collection in the closet drawers. 

He dismantles his nest and rebuilds it. Putting it at the center of the bed, making it big enough for the guardians, for two. 

He feels drained when the frenetic energy leaves him, but that feeling of unease remains.

He showers and settles into bed. 

He shifts, turns on his side, flops onto his belly, and dislodges Rabbit Escape from its perch and then rolls onto his back, falling onto Shiro, causing the shikigami to yelp as he tries to find a comfortable sleeping position.

His instinctual awareness is turned on its head. He is in an alpha's den but the alpha is not here, he is elusive, what did he do to make alpha leave him? What did he do to make alpha ignore him? What did he do to alpha seek another?

Megumi presses his palms into his eyes. 

Maybe he should have Round Deer knock him out. He needs some kind of cognitive recalibration.

Instead, he settles for scrolling mindlessly through social media, waiting for sleep to take him.

(Waiting for Gojo to come home.)

The night crawls in, but Megumi does not sleep; when Gojo slips into the room, the alpha is surprised to see him awake.

Megumi checks the time, 2:37 a.m.

"Hello."

His voice is a balm against his ears. When he turns on the low lights, Megumi blinks and adjusts, taking him in, and feels his heart skip a beat. 

The unease begins to recede.

"It's been a while." His voice is hushed in the quiet of the night, sweet and full of whimsy.

Megumi wordlessly pulls back the sheets and shimmies back, making space. 

Gojo approaches but sits on the floor and faces him. "Did you miss me?"

Megumi nods and pats the empty space next to him.

"Are you inviting me into your nest?"

Megumi nods again.

"Give me fifteen minutes?"

Megumi shakes his head.

"I've been out all day."

Megumi shrugs; he can change the sheets and wash the items in his nest. He pats the space beside him again.

Gojo chuckles, "If you insist."

He does.

Megumi watches as the alpha stands, removes his jacket, unbuttons his shirt, unbuckles his belt, and strips down to his undershirt and briefs. 

He's seen it all, but that was when Gojo was between man and boyhood. The alpha was a late bloomer, presenting right after he turned sixteen. But there's a stark difference between adolescence and adulthood. 

Gojo was gifted then, but age shows the gods took their time with him.

Megumi admires him unabashedly, taking in his porcelain skin, broad shoulders, muscular arms, trim waist, flat belly, strong thighs, long legs, and the imprint of his-

"You're gonna make me blush~"

"That would imply you're modest," Megumi finally speaks, voice dry.

Gojo settles into bed beside him and lies on his side, facing him. "Megumi~, I'm humble and kind."

Megumi scoffs. "Lies you tell."

Gojo gasps, "Megu, how can you think so ill of me!? I think the world of you."

"Do you?" Megumi asks archly, "You didn't call or text today."

Gojo grins impishly and gloats, "You really did miss me! You even waited up for me."

"Did I?" He says coyly, "Maybe I just missed looking at your face. Your personality leaves a lot to be desired."

"You think I'm pretty; that trumps your complaints," Gojo replies cheekily.

Megumi rolls his eyes, "You're incorrigable." 

Gojo moves closer, displacing Shiro and bullying his way onto Megumi's pillow. He moves Rabbit Escape behind him, reaches under the blankets, and draws Megumi to him by the waist. Megumi comes willingly, legs tangling with the alpha's.

Gojo pushes his fringe from his eyes, "I missed you."

"I'm here now," Megumi murmurs. 

The alpha cups his face and traces his lower lip.

"You are here now," Theres a curious note to his voice, an emotion Megumi cannot pinpoint. "That's all that matters." 

"And you're finally home," Megumi replies and turns his head to kiss his palm.

Gojo's eyes gleam.

"Home is where you are."

He leans forward and kisses him.

Megumi allows it.

Chapter Text

It’s a chaste press of lips, a mingling of breaths. It’s shy, a reacquaintance, a slow slide of lips as they familiarize themselves with a long-lost friend.

They kiss and cling to each other, shy explorations becoming heated caresses.

Gojo’s hand is a hot brand on his nape, neck, and jaw; it guides him as the alpha angles his head and licks and sucks on his lips. Megumi lets out a shuddering sigh; he grips the alpha’s forearm and kisses him back.

Gojo’s hand slips under Megumi’s side, to the omega’s slight waist, and wraps around the small of his back. He pulls him closer and-

“My brat!”

The term of endearment registers and quickly shocks Megumi out of his daydreams.

“Are you listening?”

“Yes, Dad,” He squeaks, embarrassed and caught off guard.

“What did I just say?” Fushiguro Toji asks suspiciously. “It sounds like you’ve got your head in the clouds.”

Cheeks puce, he closes his eyes and sits on the floor, trying to find some center of gravity. What the hell is wrong with him. “I’m listening, Dad.”

“I don’t believe you; you’ve got love on the brain,” Toji accuses.

Love? More like fuc-

Megumi mentally slaps himself.

“Kaa-chan wants to know if anyone has any allergies or food aversions,” Megumi recites dutifully.

“Well,” Toji says expectantly, “Does anyone?”

He recalls Gojo’s voracious appetite as an adolescent; in the present, the alpha is much more moderate, but his sweet tooth persists. Gojo’s father is another matter he’ll have to look into.

“Um, I’ll have to ask,” Megumi answers.

“Find out quickly; your mum wants everything to be perfect.”

Megumi rubs his face, “Tell her not to feel pressured; it’s not that big of a deal.”

“Not a big deal? It’s a huge deal; it’s not every day your kid gets married. Even a shithead like you deserves to be celebrated!”

“Wow, I feel so honored,” Megumi says dryly.

“You should be,” Toji replies airily.

“I feel the love,” Megumi’s voice becomes drier with every word he utters. “You don’t even know his name.”

“Unnecessary,” Toji dismisses.

Toji prefers to exist on an information diet; too much information puts a target on someone’s back. He’s mellowed out since Megumi became an adult, confident that his son could handle himself, but old habits die hard.

As long as Megumi is happy, he doesn’t care.

At least that’s what he says; Megumi thinks it’s Toji’s one-upmanship with his brother.

“Uncle knows him,” Megumi reveals.

That gives his father pause, “…Is he from a prominent clan?”

“Yes.”

“An official, sorcerer, or civilian?”

“Other,” Megumi provides, letting Toji draw his own conclusions.

“…Damn, your uncle’s gonna burst a blood vessel.” Megumi can imagine his smirk. Toji laughs, “I can’t wait to see his face.”

“I’m hanging up,” Megumi threatens.

“Do what you want, you shithead. Call your mum as soon you find out. Love you, kid.”

Megumi shakes his head and smiles, “Love you, too.”

Megumi peers through the eye of a wolf.

Gojo is still sleeping, Shiro at his side, and a twitching cloud of fur surrounds him.

He isn’t inclined to awaken him, but maybe they can go out later.

Like a date.

Chapter Text

Megumi sips his beer.

The sound of grilling meat fills the restaurant. 

"So my parents..." Megumi tries to find the words to describe them.

Satoru takes Megumi's plate and fills it. He gives him the best cut of beef; misuji, ichibo, and harami. Megumi is not a big meat eater, so he gives him savory pieces. 

He raises a grey brow, "What about them?"

"They're retired," He says lamely.

Is Megumi attempting to engage in friendship level five, tragic backstories?

He's too late, Satoru knows, or at least he has sufficient pieces and knowledge to fill in the gaps of an interesting puzzle.

"So is mine, but his favorite hobby is annoying me." He hands the plate to the omega, who quietly thanks him. 

"That's probably payback," Megumi says wryly. "You're a menace. You were worse as a teenager, and I doubt you were different as a kid."

"You can attest to that, but you weren't any different. You were rude; every other sentence was an insult." Indignant, Megumi opens his mouth to retort, but Gojo holds up an appeasing hand to stop him. "But I likely deserved it." 

Megumi raises both brows, disbelief poignant.

Empathy was a suggestion in his youth. He was self-centered, arrogant, and capricious. Megumi was one of the many, if not the principal victim, left wrecked in the aftermath of his callous disregard.

He's making amends. 

Satoru rolls his eyes, "Did deserve it, happy now?"

"No," is his trenchant retort, "but at least you matured. If you were anything like you were then, I would have rejected your proposal and told you to go to hell."

"You did tell me to go to hell," Gojo points out,  "Multiple times, in various ways, you told me-"

"Okay, I get it," Megumi glowers.

His frowns, sharp tongue, and acerbic wit. His smiles and laughter. His joy and sorrow. His fear and his anger. His warmth and love.

Satoru wants it all.

Most of all, he wants to kiss his pouty mouth.

He grins, "What were we talking about?"

"Parents," Megumi sullenly the takes opening he gives to segue the conversation and shoves food into his mouth. He chews and swallows, "Does your dad have any allergies or food preferences?"

"No, he'll try anything once." Satoru flips the meat on the grill. He slept for ten hours surrounded by Megumi's scent. He woke up more refreshed than he had in years, but now he's starving. Keeping up with a cantankerous omega is hard work. 

"Okay, Ka-chan is from Okinawa, but they grew up in Hawaii," Megumi warns. "If you prefer traditional cuisine, they'll make that; otherwise, it'll be their usual fare."

"Whatever they're comfortable with." He gave Megumi the rarer cuts but saved his favorites for himself. 

"I'll let them know. Um, my parents might seem... off. They're former soldiers contracted for their special skills. They're not on the best terms with the Jujutsu government, but their clearance gives them immunity."

Mouth full, Satoru says, "So, are they former spies or contract killers?"

Megumi's face contorts in disgust.

Chapter Text

"Taidama," he calls.

He pauses in the doorway.

Gojo's not here.

Megumi breathes through his nose and prays for patience. 

He doesn't know why this irritates him.

The thing about adulthood is that no one is truly prepared for the loneliness. Megumi remembers being a boy on the edge of glory, but then, somehow, over the years, he lost that sense of indomitable resolve and was besieged by a raw state of knowing. It gripped him in an unforgiving noose and showed him things he didn't want to know but was forced onto him. Wisdom is an ally and an enemy.

Megumi spent the day completing the tedious tasks of updating his ID, passport, and bank accounts. Crossing these tasks off an ever-expanding list did little to lessen his mounting headache.  

He needs to change his insurance before his heat; contacting Gojo's personal assistant worsened his mood and resulted in teeth grinding, a habit he kicked a few years ago. He expected competence, but he was met with insipid drivel. At least the alpha received his notice.

A call with his solicitor added to his day of mundanity and monotony. It reminded him that they needed to update their family registries, but Megumi isn't inclined to take action. They have six months, and considering the initial reactions to his marriage, he wants to delay the inevitable shit show.

After a day like this, he doesn't want to be alone. He wants something to look forward to.

He waits up for him again.

But first, he makes an emergency appointment with his vibrator.

This time, he comes home at 12:19 a.m.

It's a seventeen-hour shift, shorter compared to the last 20-hour absences. Gojo said a week max, and his estimate was true.

He comes into the room and smirks when he sees Megumi's sullen pout. He closes the distance between them, leans down, and kisses Megumi's frowning mouth.

"You definitely missed me," he smugly murmurs against his lips. Then he places a loud, wet kiss against his cheek. 

"Ugh," Megumi pushes his face away and wipes his cheek.

Gojo chuckles, "What did you do today?"

Megumi grimaces, "Be an adult."

"Sounds terrible," Gojo quips; he gets up and goes about his nightly routine.

"Your personal assistant made it worse."

Gojo laughs again, "Take it easy on him. He's young and..." The alpha pauses to find the right word, a kind word to describe his assistant, "spirited." 

"Who hired him?" Megumi grouses.

"Nepotism," Gojo reveals, unabashed. "My dad asked, and I gave him a chance. Turns out he isn't an idiot like his parents."

"So, a cousin? No wonder he was annoying; it's genetic." 

Gojo unbuttons the top three buttons of his shirt and pulls it and his undershirt over his head, revealing the deep cut of his Adonis belt, the tight muscles of his abdomen, the wide expanse of his chest and broad shoulders before finally unveiling the perfection of his face. 

Damn.

Gojo is a beautiful man.

Pink blooms, and he buries half of his face in his pillow and presses his thighs together.

He admits it is not just any alpha; he admits it is Gojo Satoru; he admits-

Something's gotta give. 

"You've got jokes, eh?" Megumi peaks over his pillow and watches as he undresses. "Your kids will inherit from that gene pool."

Not soon enough.

"I pray for future me."

"That's not a present Megumi problem?" He grins, full of joie de vivre. 

No, he has an entirely different problem, and he fears his vibrator will not suffice.

"In June? No, that's just debauchery. In December, future me probably won't mind."

Gojo is taken aback by his response.

Chapter Text

2006

How does one fell a god?

How does one kill an entity that wears the emblem present every time he mastered a new aspect of his technique?

The tenth shadow knows his tricks. The tenth shadow has adapted to every stratagem he has created. The tenth shadow will kill him; he has betrayed the rites and damned the ritual.

All participants of the ritual will know the tenth shadow's unquenched wrath.

Taima no Tsuguri is turned against him, and Megumi is barely able to withstand the might of the blow. Kogarasu-maru and the Kogarashi splinter under the weight, the impervious metals coated in the blood of thousands are rendered into the toys of a wanton boy who knew not what he conjured when he evoked its name.

His goal may be to cut off its winged head, but the scent of his wretched blood carries the stench of the first, Takiyasha. Megumi is subject to the onslaught he unleashed on Gojo, blood sprays from him and onto the foliage in a mockery of morning dew. He heals, he is assaulted anew. The shadows rise to protect him, to coat him in their protean quality, but the tenth shadow knows, when the phantom graveyard of weapons arises once more, the tenth shadow knows and unleashes it hellish revenge.

Megumi doesn't recall much of the battle. 

He had one objective and did not care for much else, but when it appeared he would die at the hands of one the creatures he cherished, gutted and barely clinging to life, brilliant white light filled his vision. 

He lost consciousness and was dragged into the depths of shadows. The dark below welcomed him like an old friend.

For a sennight, he would go missing, then he would be found deep in the forests of the Zen'in ancestral home. Found on the grounds of a forgotten shrine, surrounded by the eroded statues of toads and wolves. 

2023

"Chika-san!"

Megumi waves, voice filled with genuine ebullience.

Gojo follows at a lazy pace, hands in his pocket, lollypop in his mouth.

"Megu!" She waves back with equal enthusiasm. 

The prospect of a kitchen with a dishwater fills him with the same anticipation and happiness as the release of Tears of the Kingdom on Nintendo Switch. 

"How are you?" He asks once he's in conversational range.

"I'm well! How are you?"

Banalities are easy to observe when the company is pleasant. 

"Excited," He replies with a smile.

He dreams of an onsen-style bathtub; he's become spoiled by Gojo's.

"Great! We have five properties; three are homes, two are apartments-"

Gojo comes to stand at his side, and takes his unresisting hand in his own. Megumi thinks nothing of it and knots his fingers through his.

However, Chika casts a clandestine glance over his shoulder, a noticeable blush highlighting her face.

Ah, he forgot the impact Gojo has on people.

And Gojo, the vain idiot, dimples and removes his sunglasses, revealing those devastating eyes and his unobstructed face.

Chika stares, and Gojo's smile widens.

The bastard.

"Chika-san, this is my husband," He doesn't think he'll ever get used to that. "Gojo Satoru."

"H-hello."

"Hi, Chika-san." His voice is honey, and Chika's blush deepens. "Megumi has nothing but good things to say about you. We're looking forward to today. Please take care of us."

He wants to shout, "Don't fall for it!" His voice, looks, and demeanor are all traps, but what can he say when he's a willing victim?

2006

The Zen'in are in an uproar.

The Kyoto Metropolitan Curse Technical College is decimated; it harkens to the war zones of old, when gods, monsters, and man roamed the land. It echoes a battle had four hundred years ago, but that is where the parallels end. This rematch ends not with death but with an awakening and a revelation.

The tenth shadow is "tamed".

Gojo Satoru is enlightened.

Megumi sits with his hands raised above his head, covered in bandages, bruises, healing wounds, and a mutinous glower.

"Let me get this straight, the school year has barely begun and you've chosen to make a spectacle of yourself?"

"I-"

"I'm not asking for a response," Zen'in Jinichi cuts him off sharply. "Y ou made a bet with Six Eyes. You summoned Mahoraga, the most powerful shikigami of Ten Shadows, the shikigami that no one has ever mastered, but somehow, you thought your access to it made you the-"

"None of my shikigami are tamed," Megumi begins indignantly, "they're-"

Toji slaps the back of his head.

"Ow! What the fuck!? I'm hurt-" Toji raises his hand threateningly, and Megumi trails off, poisonous green eyes full of rancor.

"Megumi, are you stupid?" Zen'in Jinichi questions.

"He is," Toji responds.

The disappointment from his father and uncle is poignant, and Megumi feels shame fester and rot. He dares not meet his mother's eyes. Kai's eyes bore into him, forbidding and distressed.

Megumi lowers his arms and clenches his fists. 

He deflates, and the fight leaves him.

"Hands up!"

Megumi puts his arms back up and feels his eyes burn. "I'm not."

"I think you are. You didn't think of the implications of your actions. You didn't think of the potential casualties, the weak barrier you chose for your spar, the damage you could create, or the repercussions this could have on your family. You're willful, but I never pegged you for a fool."

The words cut deep.

Megumi could tell the truth, state that he did it to help, that he volunteered to put his life on the line to help another, but that would worsen his plight.

It would make him a gullible fool in their eyes.

"I have high hopes for you, but maybe my expectations are too high."

Every word is a palpable hit.

His father's remark finally makes the dam break.

"You got what you wanted, kid, but at what cost?"   

Silent tears trail from his eyes.

Chapter Text

Akiya doesn't mean abandoned; that is a sensationalized definition. It means vacant, but the state of the building varies from turn key to ramshackle.

The first house is on a corner, has three levels, and has a small gated yard. Megumi can already imagine children's toys in the grass; they'll have to paint the exterior, and that hideous brown will have to go; he hopes it has a dishwasher and an oven; otherwise, it's perfect.

He practically bouncing in place, and Gojo smiles at him indulgently. "You like it already?"

He nods fervently.

The Chika hands them face masks and advises them to put them on.

They step foot into the premises, and Megumi's nose wrinkles.

He understands why.

It smells like mold.

"No."

"I know what you're thinking," Chika assuages, "But the owner is willing to negotiate; they are aware of the house's deficiencies. This place could be a great investment with mold remediation, especially with its location."

If the smell is this pungent, the damage must be extensive. 

"No, I've seen enough," He's disappointed; they're off to a terrible start. "Satoru?"

The alpha shrugs, "I'm open to a renovation if Megumi likes it."

Smart man, happy wife, happy life.

"What you both want may not fit into your budget," Chika explains.

"What budget? As long as Megumi's happy, I don't care."

Well, say less. 

2006

No, hell no.

"I'm going home," Megumi announces and turns on his heel.

Nobara grabs his arm and says, "I'm sorry, Megumi, I didn't know he would be here." She glares daggers at her girlfriend who looks resigned to the verbal thrashing coming her way.

"That's okay, I'll make it easier for all of us."

The aftermath of their fight made Megumi come to a few revelations; many were bitter, jagged pills to swallow, some were out of his control, external factors he could only control his reactions to. Others were outliers; amongst those was the revelation that his quiet appreciation of Gojo Satoru's looks might be more than a passing fancy.

It explains why he was so quick to volunteer his time and energy; it was an excuse to be around the alpha. He may have provoked him, but Megumi had no intention of reneging on his promise.

Megumi looks over his shoulder.

Gojo pokes Suguru, and the omega squirms away, fighting laughter as he scolds the alpha. Gojo grins mischievously, eyes full of warmth, and pokes him again.  

It doesn't matter, Gojo is taken.

Nobara is momentarily conflicted, but she quickly makes a decision, "I hate this, I'm coming with you."

He's touched by her fidelity; people usually choose their significant other over their friends. "You sure?"

"Yeah, lets-"

"Eh, you're not leaving, are you?"

Megumi and Nobara jump.

Its Gojo.

"That's exactly what we're doing," Nobara replies tartly. 

"Don't be mad at Shoko; we followed her even though she said no." 

"Excuses," Nobara crosses her arms and raises her chin.

"C'mon, give her the benefit of the doubt. I just needed to talk to Fushiguro," Gojo cajoles.

"He said no, like multiple times. You don't take rejection well, do you?" 

"No," He meets Megumi's frosty glare, "Not when I want something."

The next place is an apartment with four bedrooms, one a traditional tatami room, one bathroom, and one toilet.

It's eclectic, and Megumi immediately loves it.

"You know me well," He comments. 

"I knew you'd appreciate it," Chika replies.

Built in the 1980s, it features a galley-style kitchen, rarely found in this era. Featuring metal forest green cabinets that close with magnetics, Megumi opens a cabinet, and there are built-in containers for spices. There's storage everywhere he looks, a huge sink, but no dishwasher or oven. 

This might be a dealbreaker.

The living room is huge; arched windows line one wall, and two patio doors line the other, opening to a balcony. Built-in cabinets line the third wall, while a large closet for storage makes up the other.

The bedrooms are a tolerable size, but the bathtub is small. A retro pink that he finds quaint, but he wants something deep and wide.

He needs to test it.

He points to Gojo and then the tub. "Sit."

The alpha laughs, bemused, "What?"

"Sit. I need to see if this is worth compromising on."

Curious, Gojo cooperates.

The alpha is more legs than torso, so his bent knees tower above the tub, and his arms span the length of more than half it.

He looks ridiculous.

He leans back and crosses his arms behind his head. He preens, "Do I meet your expectations?"

Yes, you handsome bastard.

But Megumi won't tell him that; he'll mess with him instead.

"The test isn't over; spread them."

Chika coughs.

But Gojo, Gojo is always quick on the draw. 

"Megumi!" He gasps, "Not with company present!"

Megumi steps between his open legs. "Make space, spread them wide."

Gojo doesn't move; he gestures grandly to his lap, "What are we testing for?" 

"Baby-making," Megumi deadpans and sits between his legs.

"E-excuse me," Chika stutters; he can hear stifled laughter as she leaves. 

Gojo wraps his arms around the omega and pulls him snugly against his chest, the heat of his body seeping into his. "I love it when you talk dirty to me," he husks against his ear.

Megumi shivers. He's comfortable with his sexuality, but something about Gojo makes him feel like a shy maiden new to the wonders of sex. 

"I fear we'll have limited positions. We'll need something bigger."

Gojo laughs, low and dirty.

Chapter Text

2005

Everything about Gojo Satoru is curated.

He is the product of careful genetics that finally bore fruit in one of the probable outcomes his family anticipated. Experience is the best teacher, and the Gojo are a fastidious lot.

His adoption was a seamless transaction, prestige, power, and the continued existence of the Karahashi in exchange for Six Eyes. His upbringing was designed to enrich, nurture, and provide him with every advantage. His schooling wasn't any different, though mainstream education is compulsory for elementary school and junior high. His family meticulously chose private institutions that host smaller classes and tailor their education based on individual learning needs. 

At home, there was no reprieve. He was schooled in the art of his people, with tutors in religion, history, taijutsu, jujutsu, and weaponry. He was honed into a sharpened blade.

He was instilled with a sense of superiority, pride in his surname and family, and impressed with the importance of what he was.

Six Eyes, hitogami, century maker, bane of the scourge, puppet, future government dog, tool of propaganda, divisive figure, precursor for the Second Golden Age of Jujutsu—titles and glorious purpose.

But there were moments when the mold was broken.

He was spoiled by his father, doted on by his grandparents, a favorite of his aunt and uncle, and bosom buddies with similar-aged cousins. He made friends in school, thrived, and lived.

When the question of high school reared its head, there was no doubt of what would happen. His education would fall under his family's jurisdiction.

Satoru decided otherwise, and the curation broadened.

He met others like him, people who weren't associated with the old families, people like his civilian friends, but they were more; they were others like him.

Suguru left the greatest impression.

Geto Suguru reminded him of the omegas of old.  

The ones who thrived in eras where they could have positions of power, rising to prominent roles such as daimyo, warriors, and scholars, and were allowed to embrace the duality of their genders. The warriors who decorated the tapestries of his grandsire's immense art collection. The scholars who could be found in his grandsire's study and the family archives. 

He was an omega who defied the gendered roles of this era and embraced the might handed to him.

He grabbed Satoru's attention, filled him with wonder and elation. He challenged him, made him question the morals and principles taught to him.

Gojo Satoru was meant to marry a bride of his family's choosing. He thought, no, that decision would be his. As the days became months and his admiration for Suguru grew, he knew in his heart of hearts he was watching his future unfold.

Then he met Megumi, and he questioned his tunnel vision.

Chika-san smartly left them to their own devices.

Gojo wordlessly sits in the next house's bathtub and gives a jaunty wave of invitation, "Join me?" 

Megumi eyes it clinically, almost as tall as Gojo's but much wider, "No need, it's perfect."

Gojo smirks wolfishly, "Good enough for baby-making?" 

Megumi considers that, imagines it vividly, and blushes slightly, but then he remembers the absolute nightmare water presents outside of heat and thinks maybe once, just for the novelty of it.

"Un," Megumi says with the utmost seriousness, "we'll conceive baby number two in here."

"Two?" Gojo queries, highly entertained, "Not one?" 

"No," He declares, "it'll be a joint effort. We don't know which position works the best, and the bathtub limits what we can try."

Gojo laughs, "What's the best position?"

"Doggy-style," Megumi ripostes. "I'm not bruising my knees or risking drowning."

Gojo's answering laughter is low and throaty. "I bet I could tempt you."

Tempt him out of his panties? Been there, done that, and now he doesn't really have to try. A look is enough for Megumi to get wet. 

"In heat or out?" He challenges.

"Both," He says with ease.

"Heat doesn't count," Megumi refutes.

Gojo tilts his head, "Doesn't it? You'd rip out my throat if you didn't think I was worthy."

He would; that was nature's boon to omegas, the ability to rebuff alphas through instinctual violence or rejection of a bond. Of course this is mitigated, history has demonstrated the methods used to subjugate omegas, it is why the violence agsinst, rape, murder, and trafficking omegas is still prevalent. 

He wouldn't balk; he'd go in for the kill.

Megumi was raised by killers; he knew every danger and wouldn't need instincts to push him.

But that's neither here nor there.

"Are you calling me easy?" He asks archly.

"Easy?" There's an odd note to his voice and a complex cocktail of emotions that play across the alpha's face. "No, your acquiescence is half the battle; without it, you're an impossible dream."

What the fuck does that mean? Megumi doesn't look too much into it; talk of existentialism, nihilism, pragmaticism, or anything philosophical will bring him down memory lane, and that's a buzzkill.

"You'd be surprised," He says wryly.

However, Gojo abandons his levity and chooses the path of gravitas. "If I asked you on a date before approaching you about this marriage, would you have agreed?" 

Megumi is silent.

No, he would have called him mad and an idiot, then dubbed him an asshole and told him to fuck off. Why would he welcome the attentions of someone who treated him ill and wounded his heart irreparably? Time, maturity, and experience have healed what gutted him, made light of teenage torrid love affairs, allowed him to divorce his emotions, and look at his past through a clinical lens. 

If he had asked him, he would have been thrust into the realm of despair or felt the echoes of it.

His silence speaks volumes.

The alpha looks down and laughs self-deprecatingly. Gojo's rictus smile makes his heart pang. "I thought so. I never asked you for forgiveness, did I?"

"There's nothing to forgive," Megumi says automatically. 

He doesn't want to talk about this. It's not important. It has nothing to do with who they are now and what they are trying to build.

(It has everything to do with it.)

Gojo stands up, and Megumi takes a step back.

Something bitter and pained siezes Gojo before he settles into impassiveness. "My atonement is only beginning."

He steps out of the tub and walks past him, making sure to give him a wide berth. 

"Let's go look at the rooms. The bathroom and the kitchen seem up to your standards."

Megumi doesn't know why that hurts. 

Chapter Text

"Do I frighten you?"

The fourth place is another apartment that is more Gojo's aesthetic. Megumi neither likes nor dislikes it. 

"No, you caught me off guard."

Each floor hosts two units; the elevator opens directly into each apartment and requires a key fob or app to enter. Windows dominates the apartment, and the interior is sleek and minimal. 

It's empty and sterile, but if Gojo likes it, Megumi can make it home. 

"Do you want to talk about it?"

It's on the higher end of their proposed budget, but Megumi supposes it doesn't matter.

"No, I want you to leave the past in the past. Atonement? Whatever guilt you feel, lean into it, analyze why you feel it, then ask yourself if it is worth reliving when it's better off forgotten."

Gojo is subdued, and Megumi compartmentalizes. It's the only way he knows how to navigate the world; pragmaticism saves him when emotions lead him astray.

"Is that Megumi speaking? Or Dr.Fushiguro, the psychologist?"

"Both. We're not a typical couple; this is an arrangement. We have written expectations of each other; if you approached me out of guilt or some misplaced sense of responsibility for your adolescent follies, we should stop here." 

Gojo's jaw flexes, "I didn't."

Megumi observes him, "But the thought did cross your mind or play a part in your decision."

"Yes," He admits, to which scenario Megumi knows not; it doesn't matter; the conclusion is still the same.

"You have your reasons, and I have mine," Megumi opens a closet; despite its recent construction, this place has a surplus of built-ins and storage. "I accept the reasons you gave me and like the terms and conditions of our arrangement. There's no point in ruminating over possible scenarios or dwelling over past entanglements when this arrangement benefits us both."

"Does it?" Gojo opens another door. It's a bedroom, one of three. 

"What?" Megumi steps into the closet and measures with his arms. It's pretty deep for a hallway closet, perfect for storing seasonal clothes. It doesn't snow in Osaka but reaches 3°C in the colder months. 

"Benefit us both. You said I make Faustian deals. Do you think this is one is?"

Megumi looks out of the closet and finds Gojo leaning on the wall opposite of him.

"It isn't if you don't make it one," Megumi sets a clear boundary. 

To linger in those messy moments where emotions were volatile and words were seldom exchanged, but actions spoke louder and left lasting wounds.

Megumi wants no part of it. 

Gojo walks parallel to that boundary and nearly crosses it. He runs an agitated hand through his hair, barely suppressed dejection coats his voice, "Will we ever talk about it?"

Megumi neither alleviates nor acknowledges his turmoil. He shrugs, "Maybe."

"That makes me think you hate me," He murmurs; it's heartbreaking.

Megumi allows himself to feel, to open up his heart. "I did for a time, but I'm a different person than I was then, and so are you."

"Would you have considered dating me if you knew I had changed?"

No. Their contract marriage has everything Megumi wants; he can't imagine any other route leading to this.

"Aren't we dating now?" He makes a somber quagmire lighthearted, "That's the whole point of our honeymoon period."

Gojo watches him pensively; those eyes are heavy and piercing. "I guess it is."

"How are you liking it?" Chika-san calls.

Gojo's eyes never stray, even as he responds, "The rooms are big; this could be a great starter house."

"Have you two looked into the local schools?"

"We did!" Megumi calls. "Satoru attended a feeder school for Kyodai, but I went to an international school before my family moved to Kyoto. Public school seems like a better option."

"Oh, that's interesting! The schools have a great reputation here." 

Chapter Text

Shit.

Megumi stares at his calendar notification.

Shit, shit, shit.

This is their shared calendar.

It can't be today; he's not prepared.

There's so much to do.

Megumi turns and glares down at Gojo's blissfully sleeping form. 

Why is he sleeping!?

Megumi pinches his nose. The result is immediate, Gojo's hand clamps on his wrist, grip bruising. The alpha gags and then coughs. Megumi grits his teeth against the pain, twists his perfect nose, and watches his face redden.

Gojo rips his hand away, gasps and heaves, sits up, pushes up his sleep mask, and reveals reddened eyes filled with outrage.

"What the hell is wrong with you!?"

Megumi cradles his smarting wrist and glares, "Why are you sleeping?"

His outrage grows, and the echoes of the alpha voice permeate his voice, "Megumi, is that a rhetorical question?"

"Does it seem like one?" Megumi demands.

"I'm tired," He bites out through clenched teeth, lips curling into a snarl, and his eyes glow eerily. It's kind of hot. "My patience is thin; either you tell me what's wrong, or I'm leaving."

"We're meeting each other's parents, and you're sleeping," Megumi's condemnation is hardly justified; it's an overreaction.

Gojo's righteous anger becomes dumbfounded. "That's today?"

"Yes!"

Gojo pinches the bridge of his nose, "What time is it?"

"11:00 A.M."

"What happened to the alarms?" He asks tiredly and rubs his eyes.

"We slept through them, or you put your mobile on do not disturb."

"Impossible, I put it on both." He yawns once, then again.

"You left your work cell in Tokyo and put your other one on silent to avoid your assistant, family, and work."

Gojo blinks sleepily. "Oh yeah, I put it on do not disturb but didn't change the settings. What about yours?"

"I was counting on you to wake me up; mine is a reminder to go to my parents and help my mum," Megumi prays for patience.

Gojo lays back down and throws an arm over his eyes. "Shit, sorry Megumi."

Megumi releases a litany of creative curses that cause Gojo to grimace.

"I know today's important-"

The string of insults that leaves the omega's mouth interrupts him and leaves the alpha slightly flustered. For someone as shameless as Gojo, that's saying something. Then again, he used to frequently be on the receiving of Megumi's profane mouth. It's a return to form.

"Okay! I get it!" He says, exasperated.

Megumi glowers; he wants to yank out his hair or savagely pinch his nipple.  

Gojo shuffles away, "You're contemplating violence."

He hears the familiar hum of Infinity, and his scowl deepens.

The bastard.

"Let's just salvage what's left of the day." 

Gojo wrestles Megumi resisting arm from him and heals his wrist. Megumi begrudgingly mumbles an apology. 

"Is he cute?"

"Yes,"  he answers curtly. 

He's not feeling very forgiving where that alpha is concerned. Mum has finished prepping, and all that is left is to clean up before cooking. 

"Where'd he go to school?"

"Sodai."

"Good, good, he won't be intimidated. How tall is he?"

"191 cm." He cleans the counters.

"Good, he's taller than you; your last ex had a short man complex."

"We were the same height," Megumi says flatly.

"You are taller, better-looking, went to a better university, smarter, and have a higher salary. He felt inferior and always tried to diminish your accomplishments," Okaa-san lists.

"He wasn't that bad," Megumi defends.

"He was, don't defend him," Mum chides.

Megumi's ex wore shoe inserts; if that's not a red flag, he doesn't know what is. There were many red flags, but he wore rose-tinted glasses. No, he didn't; he just didn't want to admit he was wrong. Every time his ex discovered something new about him that didn't fit in his preconceived narrative of him or made him feel inferior, he engaged in passive-aggressive tactics. When his ex met his parents and discovered his lineage, it became the breaking point. 

It wasn't the Zen'in connection that set him on edge; it was the Fushiguro. Megumi's paternal grandmother's family is former nobility, but unlike the Zen'in, they did not disappear into the ether and thrive in obscurity. No, they chose prominent roles in the government, but like the Zen'in, they were involved in the medical sector, heavily invested in pharmaceuticals, hospitals, and medical equipment.

Megumi's ex was a medical doctor and liked to ask who was the real doctor between the two of them. Finding out he worked in the ward Megumi's family donated was too much for his ego.

"What does he do for a living?"

Megumi pauses; Dad didn't tell them?

"Official or unofficial? Megumi questions.

Mum raises their brows, interest piqued, "Both."

"VP of a private equity firm, he's an actuary."

Getting to know who Gojo is now has been an interesting experience. He wasn't willing to talk about his experience as a teacher but raved about his students. He fell into his current career when he took an active interest in Gojo clan affairs five years ago. It was boring and tedious, but it supported and evolved the family interests. 

Mum's eyes widen, "Unofficial?"

"Head of a jujutsu clan." Should he start separating the trash now?

"Is he an active shaman?"

He'll start now. "Define active? He's no longer in demand but lends his help."

"On-call then," Mum concludes.

 Megumi shakes his head, "No, he's more involved in the government. Satoru probably does it for nostalgia or out of some sense of responsibility since he can do what would take 100 sorcerers to accomplish." 

Mum stops him and says incredulously, "Gojo Satoru?"

"You're late," Father says mildly. "That's unlike you."

"Rough start," He covers his mouth and yawns. Despite utilizing RCT, he's tired. Sleeping in Megumi's nest has spoiled him; instead of sporadic indulgences, he's routinely getting seven to ten hours of sleep. He's having a harder time keeping up his habits. 

Father's lips quirk, "Do I want to know?" 

Satoru grimaces. Megumi is usually reserved, but when he's irritated or angered, he pulls a ridiculous stunt. Satoru handles their verbal spars with aplomb, but parrying his spiteful behavior is another matter.

Satoru shakes his head.

Father laughs, "Okay."

Satoru points to their quiet surroundings. They're in a quiet neighborhood in the Sakyō ward. "Why here?"

Father pulls a key out of his pocket. "Here."

"Eh?"

"Over there." Father points to the gated house next to them. "A wedding gift."

Chapter Text

It's tradition.

It's a milestone.

When he was fifteen, he underwent a genpuku. A coming-of-age ceremony that marked the transition from childhood to adulthood. It was for perception; Satoru sought community, and if his family protested, he promised to sever all ties. Though they vehemently protested, Satoru's father proposed a happy medium. This ceremony would demonstrate the acknowledgment of his autonomy and show the dynamic between clan and scion is amicable. 

It was a farce.

Satoru hadn't presented; he was still a pup. Blooded, but wet behind the ears. He and his family were on the outs, a silent war filled with tension tangible on the tongue. The collar became tighter, and the leash shortened with every deviation he took from their meticulous planning. 

It was a milestone.

This is another.

When he turned twenty, Father abdicated, at least officially. Behind the scenes, he slowly transferred his responsibilities to him. Gojo Takumi was always transparent about what was expected of his heir, and Satoru was an apt student. Father expected great things from him; he was heralded as the century-maker, and he believed with every advantage at his behest, Satoru would lead them into a Golden Age.

At twenty-seven, he unburdened himself of all earthly desire and achieved true enlightenment. The world was a beast of a burden, and he carried it on his shoulders, so he shrugged the atlas and made Fate what he wanted. He looked towards the future and stopped chasing yesteryear. Then, he was taken seriously and took his place as the figure he was always meant to be.

Every significant milestone was celebrated in some instance, but this is the first time Father has shown approval regarding his relationships. 

He said nothing when Satoru suffered from a one-sided bond; he remained taciturn when the bond became mutual. When the bond was severed and Satoru demanded an explanation, a word, a condemnation, a pittance of acknowledgment towards his ten-year plight. He simply said sometimes hard lessons must be experienced.

So Megumi is the exception?

"I thought you didn't approve." 

"I never said that; conjecture without evidence makes a fool of us both," Father scolds. 

What is he? A wayward child in need of a time out in the corner, wearing a dunce cap. "Is this a persuasion tactic or given in good faith?"

Father widens his eyes innocently, "Can't it be a bit of both?"

The prospect of grandchildren has resulted in underhanded tactics.

"You'll have to convince Megumi. I don't have any preferences," he replies neutrally.

"Using your wife as a defense? That's poor sportsmanship!"

"Morals are for the weak," Satoru counters, unscrupulous and unashamed.

However, Father sees through him, canny and perceptive, "But even the strongest have their weaknesses."

---

Fushiguro Toji is nearly imperceptible.

The vow placed upon him is incredible to discern. 

Fushiguro Kai's might be the reason why Megumi's technique mutated. Hovering above the older omega is a specter, phantom tendrils curling into wisps; it fades in and out of sight. A spirit, a cursed construct of a mononoke. At the omega's feet, three white miniature figures peer around their legs, heads oddly shaped, three dots on their faces symbolizing their mouths and eyes.

"Fushiguro Toji," The elder alpha greets tersely. Despite his advanced age, he's managed to mostly retain his height and kept a well-maintained physique. "My wife Fushiguro Kai."

"Good evening," Megumi's mother is all congeniality, they smile with sincerity, but their eyes are empty. There's not an iota of emotion to be found; Satoru understands where Megumi learned to divorce himself from emotion. 

Both of Megumi's parents move silently; perhaps they once mimicked the people around them, made deliberate noises, treaded loudly, breathed noticeably, and schooled their expressions into monikers that resembled others, but age has made them careless, or they no longer care. Whatever enemies they had are likely long dead.

"Gojo Takumi," Father greets, his smile bright and friendly.

Father is always at ease, not once has Satoru seen him falter. Even at his brattiest, Father was a steady presence. 

Megumi eyes them cautiously, hovering as greetings are exchanged. Solitcious and deferential to his parents and Father. 

It's only right Satoru mirrors him; they are a couple, considered one and the same in the eyes of others. 

The alpha presents Fushiguro Toji with aged whiskey and Fushiguro Kai with a fruit basket fresh from Hawaii. 

Emotion gleams in those empty eyes, and they become considering. Megumi's father reads the brand and year and grunts, "Good taste."

An auspicious start. 

Chapter Text

"Have you two started planning the wedding?" 

"Not yet, but I've scheduled a meeting with a wedding planner," Megumi answers.

"Do you have a location in mind?" Father asks.

Four hundred years ago, marriage between the Gojo and Zen'in was common. An auxiliary family member usually married into the main family. After their respective clan heads offed each other in a pointless and grandiose battle, relations ranged from tepid to hostile to occasionally friendly, but the bond of marriage never transpired again.

With Megumi defacto heir to the Zen'in and Satoru the head of his family, the wedding would have to be on their respective family's shrines. Megumi is marrying into the Gojo's, but he is heavily favored by his enshrined ancestors; it would be an insult to marry without their blessings.

A neutral location will be chosen, but this will not go over well.

Satoru speaks up before the conversation can derail.

"We're focused on finding a home. Megumi has his heart set on Suita, Osaka." 

Kai raises their brows, "Oh? Megu, why not try our old neighborhood?" 

That's right, Megumi grew up in Osaka city, at least for middle school. While his parents lived in Osaka, Megumi split his time between the Zen'in ancestral home, the Kyoto Metropolitan Curse Technical College dorms, and his childhood home. 

Megumi's expression tightens, then flattens into neutrality. Megumi isn't emotive; it's his micro-expressions, the fluctuations in the cadence of his voice, and subtle shifts in his body language and posture that denote what he feels. When he's comfortable, these are more pronounced. In this instance, he's tense and prone to taciturnity, but the occasion demands conviviality.

He's nervous, but now he's uncomfortable.

"That was fifteen years ago, I barely remember anything about it," Megumi replies.

"You don't remember," Kai starts incredulously, "Tsumiki-" 

Toji interrupts them, "We understand. Suita is a nice area."

Satoru watches as the tension leaves Megumi's shoulders, a slight shift in his proper posture. 

"Perhaps," Father starts, tone full of levity. Alarm bells immediately start ringing; that's false cheer. "You could consider Kyoto. Satoru inherited a sizable home."

Megumi's green, green eyes narrow into chips of ice.

Satoru loves his father, but these are the moments when it mingles with loathing. 

Satoru's freedom was always conditional. His life was shaped by obligations and expectations tied to Six Eyes. He was a god in human flesh, but instead of being revered or simply treated as a person, he was branded an asset and used as the ultimate piece in power plays. 

He wanted to escape, but even his choices were limited. It was why he clung so hard to his decisions, even when they were to his detriment and those around him.

Choosing Megumi would have put him right back into the game he was trying to escape. His autonomy would always be tied to politics; his personal will meant nothing. 

Since he could not leave, he decided to remake the system in his image. The puppet became the puppet master, and the world became a stage to watch his chicanery play out and bear fruit.

To choose Megumi now meant becoming the master of his destiny. 

"It's a recent inheritance; I would consider it more of a gift," He smiles blandly, and Megumi's countenance softens a fraction.

"You'd be closer to family," Father continues blithely. "Raising children requires a village." Bold, how bold. When did he start making concessions for Father? He should stop now; he's gone rogue. "Satoru was a handful, but I had help from my parents." 

"You know what? You're right," Megumi's mum agrees. 

Damn, he's found an ally. 

---

They don't bring up the Kyoto incident.

"There might be objections," Dad comments. 

Maybe he's insulting his parents' intelligence. Their familiarity with Satoru comes from old connections. When he was seven, Mum's former handler tried to coax them out of retirement for an assignment, the assassination of Gojo Satoru. Apparently, Gojo was known to escape his minders and wander the streets of Kyoto. 

Dad encountered a similar proposition when Megumi was fifteen. Kong Shui, a shifty character, another person in his parents' long and colorful history, wanted in on the ongoing wager on Gojo's life. Dad declined; while he didn't discriminate, a mark was a mark with the right price tag; he was a retired family man. 

"There will be," Gojo acknowledges, "But the only thing that matters is our happiness."

"Is that enough?" Dad questions. "You're bound to duty with families like ours."

"Then maybe it's time for a new standard," Gojo says confidently, "Living by other people's expectations rarely leads to happiness."

Toji snorts, "You don't have to convince me. Megumi has already made up his mind. I know my kid, even if I disapproved, he'd do as he pleases."

"That's good!" Gojo's dad says gaily. "Satoru is an unstoppable force; he needs an immovable object!"

It goes better than he expects. 

Megumi meets Satoru's unfettered gaze and smiles shyly. 

The alpha dimples in response. 

Perhaps they can find that happiness the alpha spoke of.

Chapter Text

Megumi can't sleep.

He is riding off the high of the night.

It's a victory.

He doesn't know what he expected. Perhaps he anticipated a similar reaction from the sample of his circle. But these are his parents; their stake differs. They care about seeing him settled and ensuring that he's happy.

Megumi grew up with parents who loved each other but were close companions first and foremost. After thirty-seven years of long, abiding companionship, they want Megumi to experience the same thing.

He knows what his parents think.

Gojo was in fine form, polite, respectful, and engaging. He chose the right gifts, though they were flamboyant; they were quintessentially him, but they showed that he researched and put thought into them. He was transparent about his intentions, showed interest in his parents' hobbies, and complimented his mother's food and hospitality.

Gojo was confident, charismatic, and full of joie de vivre.

He was himself.

He was perfect.

He was more concerned about what Gojo Takumi thought.

Megumi can't sleep. 

He tosses and turns, trying to find the right position. Gojo's arms tighten around him, but he relaxes when he settles down. Now, he's too hot. He recalls Shiro and Kuro back into the void, but the absence of staple figures in his nest sets his teeth on edge. Rabbit Escape multiples until the futon is covered in a writhing mass of fur. The alpha grumbles and turns on his side; the sphere of Infinity surrounds them, and the clones disappear in plumes of smoke. 

Megumi kicks off the sheet and blanket, lays on his back, and presses his palms into his eyes. 

Ugh.

He turns and stares at the alpha's back.

He envies him.

After a stressful day and an ultimately successful evening, Megumi thought the adrenaline that carried him through the motions would disperse, and he'd crash.

But he's plagued by worries, racing thoughts, lingering on the what-ifs.

Gojo's father is the alpha in another font. Playful, nonchalant, and wily. 

As the suitor, Gojo had a bigger role in this grand play, but as the potential bride, Megumi could only rely on his mother's table and the upkeep of his parents' household to demonstrate his skill as a homemaker and wife. 

Should he ask to meet with Gojo Takumi? Gojo holds his family in contempt but obviously favors his father. Should he endeavor to forge a relationship with his in-law?

Megumi touches his warm skin and spreads his fingers across the broad expanse of his back. 

Would that be taking it too far? This is a farce, a long con, Megumi's fraudulent claim to happiness. It doesn't feel real at times. 

Leaving his job was the best decision he ever made.

Though he wades in unknown waters, he's healthier. He's left behind his bad habits. When was the last time he thought about a cigarette, let alone craved nicotine? When did he last drink more than half a cup of coffee? When did he last think about his ex and their failed relationship? 

He threw in his lot with the devil, the lesser evil. What was the alternative? Misery.

He's happier.

At least, he thinks he is.

Maybe he's lying to himself.

It wouldn't be the first time.

Megumi traces the pale skin of the alpha's spine; he has back dimples. 

Gojo has a home in Kyoto. Is it a recent acquisition? The alpha never mentioned where he lodged in Kyoto before they married. Maybe there are bad memories attached to it; Gojo is hardly an open book. What Megumi knows is word of mouth, past acquaintance, information mentioned in passing, or answered from a direct query.

Can he see it? It dawns on Megumi that Gojo seldom protests his wants and is obliging to his needs. He only protests and asserts his dominance when Megumi makes unilateral decisions without his knowledge or input.

He tugs on the alpha's shoulder, gently coaxing him onto his back. Megumi lays with his ear on his heart, hoping the strong beat will lull him to sleep. 

It doesn't.

He draws mindless circles across the strong muscles of his chest.

"Naughty, naughty Megumi," Gojo's sleep-rough voice cuts through his musings and reverberates through him. "Keep touching me, and I'll take that as an invitation."  

Megumi pauses, "What kind of invitation?"

Gojo wraps his arms around him and rasps, "The kind that'll leave you begging."

Megumi shivers. It would help. He hasn't used his vibrator in days, but sex is a nebulous prospect. He wants it but fears the beast it'll make of him.

He shakes his head.

"Wanna talk about it?"

No, maybe he should take him up on that offer.

"You need to take off the edge, or else we'll have a repeat of yesterday morning. Let me help you."

Megumi shakes his head again.

Gojo's arms tighten around him. "I'm not used to strange bedfellows. I sleep beside you because I trust you. Trust me to help you."

Guilt is an unwitting anvil that hits him with brute force. Someone like Gojo wouldn't let many people close; someone like Gojo doesn't have the luxury of weakness; showing his soft white underbelly would be folly. Megumi took advantage of that trust and brought him harm.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles contritely.

"It's fine." 

Megumi shakes his head, "It's not, I won't do it again."

Gojo pulls him closer and kisses the crown of his head, "Thank you."

Chapter Text

Megumi stares wordlessly at the stone fence. 

This north in the Sakyo ward is quiet, and far from the madding crowd of tourists that flock to the ancient city's attractions.

Gojo puts in the key, opens the gate, and holds open the gate, gesturing for him to enter first.

He quietly says thanks and steps inside the gate.

The yard is large, as he walks the path to the home's entrance, he realizes it's bigger than he anticipated. He would say it's uncommon, but with less population density, more land is available. It's a traditional garden emphasizing harmony with nature, a winding path with uneven stones, stone lanterns, moss-covered grounds, evergreen shrubs, cherry blossoms, maple trees, and a small bamboo forest. There's a water feature, and Megumi would usually appreciate the aesthetic, but it will have to go. Children under five can drown in less than 5 cm of water.

He says as much to Gojo.

"Is that a con?"

"No, it's something that can be fixed."

"That sounds like a con," The alpha points out and cheekily comments, "You said no renovations~"

"Look," He points to a space between the maple trees, where the ground is covered by moss. "We can put a swing set there. Over there," He points to another section of the yard, "We can clear out the shrubs and make a garden. Mum can help; they have a green thumb. In the summer, we can set up a kid's pool near the enclosed engawa-" Gojo lowers his arm, trails his long fingers down his arm, and intertwines their fingers together.

"What?"

The alpha wears a soft, gentle smile as he looks down at their intertwined hands. "Is this how you see every house and apartment we've seen so far?"

"Yes," Megumi says, puzzled, "Don't you?"

"I think that's something unique to you; what else do you see?"

"Children's toys," Megumi answers immediately, "The type of fabric our furniture should have. Kids are messy, so it should be something easy to clean. Chalkboard walls, painting murals in their bedrooms, baby-proofing, and a tatami room for co-sleeping. You know things like that."

Gojo's voice is full of warmth and affection when he says, "I think our children will be lucky to have you as a mother."

Warmth suffusing his face, Megumi hastily replies, "Let's go inside!"

---

The cobblestone in the entrance is a choice. Is it supposed to mimic the paths in traditional gardens?

He removes his shoes and touches the dark wooden surface, pressing on the edges of the barely visible divides, searching for the push-to-open mechanisms. Each one opens to reveal a dedicated cubby for a person's shoes, coats, and bags. The other side shows more storage, three more cubbies, a section for shoes, and more miscellaneous space.

It's perfect for a family of six.

Where the exterior is traditional, the interior is stripped of its old-world charm and thrust into modernity. Megumi breathes a sigh of relief; older houses are hard to maintain and lack the engineering modern homes have adapted to withstand earthquakes or monsoons.

An atrium dominates the center of the house. 

Megumi stops and stares.

The living room faces several large windows that open to a view of the garden. To his left is a large tatami room with double-story storage, the staircase to the second floor, and a short corridor to a wall of windows. Beyond the living room is the kitchen; he sees an island and open space for a dining room table. He crosses the empty living space and sees an oven; he opens a large drawer; it's a dishwasher.

He looks up and sees Gojo watching him across the kitchen counter.

"We have to compensate Chika-senpai for her time and consideration."

Gojo smiles, "So you like it?"

Megumi doesn't answer; he's already checking out the cabinet space.

To the kitchen's right is an opaque glass wall; Megumi opens the door and finds himself in a new section of the house. This looks like an addition or perhaps a secondary building extended to the main. He looks to the left and sees the corridor of windows; in front of him are two doors and one entrance. The entrance leads to another hall; at the end is the laundry room, but the hall sports two rows of metal rods on each side; above are horizontal windows, and Megumi wonders if they open to help facilitate clothes drying. The first door is a toilet with a small sink. The second is a bathroom with two vanities and a glass wall and door that spans the room; inside is a large bathtub and two shower heads. 

Upstairs are four bedrooms with large windows, a space between two of the rooms with a built-in desk, a sink in the hall near the toilet, and a separate shower. Megumi has to wonder if this place was renovated with tourists in mind; the layout is highly irregular. 

Megumi comes downstairs, walks along the glass corridor, and finds another space. A bonus room, he supposes, off of it, is a small, slightly enclosed space that offers views of the side yard; another enclosed engawa. 

He stops and stares. 

Gojo stands beside him, Megumi reaches for him blindly, and the alpha wraps him in his embrace.

It's perfect for a family of six.

"Yay or nay?" He murmurs against his ear.

"This was a gift?" Megumi asks in lieu of answering.

"Yes," Gojo confirms, "a wedding gift."

"Is it okay if we accept it?" Megumi hesitates and grips Gojo's forearm. "There's no strings attached, right?"

"Other than grandkids? No."

"I can imagine raising kids here, but I don't want to be in debt to anyone," He divulges.

"You're free of any obligation to my family," Gojo assures.

"What about our kids?" Megumi worries; if this was a real marriage, he would serve as matriarch to the Gojo clan. Supporting Gojo's decisions and handling internal affairs amongst the Gojo families. Their kids would be considered heirs and used as pieces in a never-ending game of power struggles.

Gojo's arms tighten around him, "We are not our forebearers; we're making new rules. I won't expose our kids to the bullshit I went through."

Megumi believes him; he doesn't know the extent of Gojo's upbringing, but if he considers what he experienced in the short time he spent with his uncle and the Zen'in, he knows that life is not kind. 

"Okay, let's move in."

"Good, but I think something is missing."

Megumi's brow furrows, "Really? It has everything on our list."

"It's missing something important," The alpha insists. Gojo reaches into his pocket and retrieves an object. He takes Megumi's left hand and slips a round object onto his ring finger. "This is missing."

Megumi stares dumbly at the ring. "Oh."

Chapter Text

2022

Satoru carefully holds the pup.

"What's his name?"

He's a few days old; he smells like milk, sweet, like his parents. His skin is wrinkly, his face is ruddy, and he blinks slowly, revealing blurry, dark eyes, but Satoru is able to detect the red of his sire.

"Satoshi."

Yuuji's voice is full of wry amusement. The mocking edge of dark humor is always present, some great joke that only he knows. But Satoru knows the punchline and answer, this world and its mortal longings.

He grins, "I'm flattered."

"You should be, you're his nazukeoya."

Happiness is such a fleeting emotion, but the sudden elation threatens to swallow him whole. It is an unforgiving fist that clutches his fractured, blackened heart and pumps life back into its healing orifice. 

A preternatural stillness grips him; his eyes widen, and his arms subconsciously tighten around the baby in them. The pup mewls, that snaps him out of his astonished stupor, and he quickly readjusts his hold. 

"Is it my time to take center stage?" He asks, flummoxed but irreverent as ever. "Am I finally the chosen one?"

"Yes," Yuuji answers, as always entertained by Satoru's brand of madness. "You get to join the ranks of exemplars. You'll influence, support, guide, and mentor Satoshi. With someone like you around, I expect my son to be a well-rounded person."

It's a position of honor. 

Yuuji is the first to present this level of trust in him. To Shoko's Kyosuke, he is Satoru-oji-san; to Mei's Tomoka, he is Gojo-san; to Yuuji's eldest children, he is Satoru-san; to this child in his arms, he is a social parent. 

Satoru doesn't have many close friends, but he can say that Yuuji is the closest he has to a best friend. This honor is unexpected, but it's a responsibility he'll relish.

Satoru wants to be a father. 

"I am the honored one," He gushes. "Do you hear that little Satoshi?"

"Maybe he'll incentivize you to settle down and have one of your own," Yuuji comments.

"Eh, I haven't met the right person," Satoru replies absently. Satoshi blinks sleepily and yawns; Satoru subconsciously sways, rocking the pup to sleep.

"What happened to the Mori welp?" 

After Suguru, Satoru was hounded by his family. They wanted him to get married; they wanted an heir and a spare; they suggested the offsprings of distant cousins, the niece or nephew of an in-law, the services of a reputable matchmaker, or an elite dating service. Satoru ignored them for three years; the ache of a broken bound haunted him, and he mourned a future that would never come to pass, a present that was wasted chasing yesteryear, and a past full of bitter regrets. 

Then, one day, in a fit of boredom, but most likely loneliness, Satoru gave into their demands and met with a matchmaker.

"We broke up a year ago," He replies. Satoshi sleeps, little chest rising and falling steadily under Satoru's watchful eyes.

"Good, you deserve better. A sniveling, pampered brat is beneath you," Yuuji declares. 

"I'm happy you have my best interests at heart," he says sardonically. "He was exactly what his family raised him to be."

"A lamb to the slaughter?" Yuuji supplies.

"A bartering piece," Satoru corrects.

"Interchangeable terms," Yuuji dismisses, "You would have been miserable."

"I'm not looking for love," He is a liar, "I just want companionship."

"Love isn't supposed to be hard," Yuuji tells him. "Love is easy when your partner is compatible; it's effortless and requires very little compromise. You don't have to settle. You are worthy of love; you have to find the right person."

He studies Satoshi's sleeping face, a little life full of innocence.

Satoru wants to be a father, but he also wants to be a husband. 

Will he settle? Is this atonement for his choices? Did his obstinance and willfulness seal his fate? 

Satoru took control of his fate and made it destiny. He chose wrong, but he can make it right. 

Chapter Text

Megumi stares at the ring on his left hand; it's a delicate but simple shared prong. Gojo presented it with a matching necklace and a practical alternative band for everyday wear.

He twists the rings on his fingers and then glances at Gojo's simple band. 

It's real.

It isn't a farce; it's an arranged marriage based on their own terms.

It's real.

---

"What's your favorite color?"

Gojo is not a morning person. He groans, rolls over, and presses snooze on both of their alarms. 

When fifteen minutes pass, and he's hit the snooze option six times. He gets up, stretches, and stares into space, blurry-eyed, lost, and questioning his existence. 

Megumi poses his question again.

"Why?" He questions gruffly. The alpha clears his throat and then breaks into a yawn.

"Mine is blue," Megumi says simply.

Gojo stretches again and climbs out of the nest, voice still full of gravel, "It's green."

That hasn't changed. 

Megumi follows him.

He waits patiently outside the bathroom, Rabbit Escape in his arms, Gama on his head, Shiro lays on the floor, head on its paws, while Kuro tilts its head curiously but stands vigilantly at his side. Round Deer makes an appearance, shrunken in form, ears flickering as it glances curiously at the gathering, but then it disappears into its shadow, curiosity sated.

Megumi makes a note to visit the Zen'in ancestral home and release all of his shikigami. They are animal kami constructs but are of the earth and spiritual realm; the least he can do is let them commune where the realms are the thinnest, where they collide and blend.

Gojo opens the door, a bit more cognizant but still cogitating his existence, the universe, and its mortal trappings. 

"What's your favorite season?"

He blinks, takes in the sight before him, and crosses the hall to the shower. "Spring."

He keeps the door open. 

Megumi puts down Rabbit Escape, the shikigami multiples.

The bathroom sink is large enough for two. Gojo brushes his teeth, and Megumi joins him. When the alpha gargles, he poses his next question.

"Do you still collect watches?"

Gojo simply nods.

That hasn't changed either; he makes a note to check the alpha's collection and see what brands and styles he prefers. Megumi's mind swirls with potential birthday gift ideas.

There are so many questions he wants to ask, maybe he should make a questionnaire or a survey. Gojo shares things about himself in casual conversation or by direct query. He doesn't want to bombard him, but Megumi is curious and determined to know the alpha he tied himself to.

"What's your favorite way to relax and de-stress?"

Megumi likes long baths, giving himself pedicures, playing video games, reading comics, and the massages he schedules when he and Nobara go on weekend spa trips. 

"I like to sleep; it's a new habit."

Gojo pulls his shirt over his head and hooks his thumbs under the band of boxer briefs, dragging them down his hip bones.

Megumi squeaks, turns bright red, and covers his face with his hands. He peaks between his fingers and sees Gojo's firm ass, and quickly turns around when he catches a glimpse of his flaccid cock.

Fuck, that hasn't changed; in fact, it's more impressive than he remembers.

Gojo laughs, "You were bold enough to follow me in here; now you're suddenly shy?"

"Just get in the shower!" Megumi blusters.

Strong arms suddenly embrace him, bringing him taunt against the alpha's unyielding solid form. Megumi blushes brightly but doesn't fight him; he welcomes his warmth and proximity.

"So you can continue your sudden inquisition?" Gojo murmurs. "Can't you do it now?" 

"Like this?" Megumi questions archly, "I didn't know you were into CONA?"

Gojo nuzzles his neck, "What's that?"

"Clothed omega, naked alpha," Megumi answers pertly. "I won't judge you for your kinks."

Gojo pauses, then bursts into laughter.

"How about I send you a questionnaire instead?" He continues artfully, "I'll include options on kinks, preferred positions, lube, and sex toys."

"Or you could join me," The alpha is full of good humor, and Megumi blushes violently, suddenly surrounded by the potent alpha pheromones and Gojo's sticky-sweet scent; he's hard. Thick and long, it pushes against his lower back, an intimidating promise. "And ask your questions." 

"Um," Megumi is speechless and suddenly filled with nerves.

Gojo must sense it; he inhales the scent of his hair; it's probably soured his warm scent. "We don't have to have sex. I just want you close."

Megumi hesitates and hates how small his voice sounds when he asks, "Isn't that what you want?"

Gojo's arms tighten around him,  "I want you, and I'll take whatever you're willing to give me."
 
That makes him melt; he's filled with warmth, and it soothes his frayed nerves. "Okay."

He undresses under Satoru's heavy eyes; despite sharing a space, he's been careful to avoid being in various states of undress in front of the alpha. Maybe it's a protective measure; Megumi is comfortable in his skin, but Satoru makes him feel shy and virginal. He forgot what it was like to be an object of desire; he forgot what it was like to be the center of Satoru's single-minded focus. 

He watches as Satoru's electric eyes dilate as each article of clothing is discarded. Watches as the alpha swallows and licks his pink lips. 

Megumi steps willingly into the alpha arms and shudders as their skin comes into contact, his softness against Satoru's hardness. 

"C'mon." He leads Megumi into the shower.

The water is hot against his skin, but Satoru's calloused hands are hotter, slippery from soap; they span the breadth of his back and encompass the width of his waist. 

He feels the brush of Satoru's wet hair, the ridges of his belly, and the plushness of his lips against his nape, jaw, and ear. 

Megumi shudders and sighs as the alpha caresses his sides, strokes omegan hips, and spreads his hands wide to encompass as much of him as possible. 

He isn't idle; he spreads his fingers across his broad expanse, addicted to the warmth of his skin. He wraps both arms around the alpha's neck and kisses him. 

It's like finally coming home.

Chapter Text

2006

"Thank you," Suguru says sheepishly.

He's a casual friend, but Megumi is hard-pressed to find others like him. Nobara was the luck of the draw, and he was slowly but surely drifting apart from his civilian friends. They share more than enough similarities, so Megumi extends an olive branch and decides to support his fellow omega.

"No problem," Megumi says sincerely.

Megumi's parents own a convenience store. Though, at this point, Megumi thinks Mum is keeping it out of spite since Dad thinks it's a money pit. Megumi uses it as his personal refrigerator. He raids it monthly; this time, he stocked up for Suguru's heat. 

Suguru-san wipes his hands nervously on his pants, "I really hope this works," he admits, embarrassed. "My doctor says these are tailored specifically for omegas like me." 

Suppressants originally were a medication to help impotence. It was marketed towards beta males with erectile dysfunction and aging alphas. Its ability to suppress ruts was a byproduct; its label as an illegal recreational drug was a response to omegas utilizing it as a heat deterrent, oftentimes becoming sterile in the process. But what can you do in the face of draconian laws and a government unwilling to invest in research for a venture ripe with opportunity? 

Of course, it eventually changed. Suppressant research for omegas, is a new phenomenon but has grown rapidly in the last decade. 

Megumi takes an injection every three months, Nobara takes an oral pill, and Suguru takes basic birth control to prevent unwanted pregnancies from inconsistent heats.

Some omegas have it easy, while others, like Suguru, are stuck with a complicated estrus cycle.

"I think it will. My mum is interested and plans on trying before letting me."

"My parents are betas; they don't completely understand, but are trying."

How interesting and what a rare feat. Two betas had an omega. Megumi wonders how progressive they are. Do they think this is a prestigious, religious school where their omega son will prosper, or did they send him to ensure he captures an affluent alpha scion?

"You don't have to worry; Nobara and I will be with you."

Even though there are omegas wedded and bedded at their age, they are still minors; even with the age of consent at thirteen, they are still babes. Since this is medicated heat, Suguru won't be consumed by fever, but he will want creature comforts. Nobara and Megumi volunteered to ride out his heat with him. Who else but an omega can understand the woes of heats? They are tedious affairs, medicated or unmedicated. 

Suguru appears more anxious than relieved, so Megumi paints a picture of their weekend.

"We'll play video games, paint our nails, eat junk food, build a blanket fort, read trashy magazines, watch shitty movies, make fun of Nobara's bad taste in music, braid your hair, cuddle with my shikigami and take advantage of your dorms' bathhouse."

Suguru relaxes, smile growing with every word.

"It'll be an epic sleepover."

"I hope my heats become regulated and we can do this again. I think the school staff is becoming frustrated with me."

The school is willing to accommodate him for his potential; otherwise, he would be dismissed as a liability. 

It's disquieting, but Megumi thinks it's worse than it appears.

Suguru is Gojo Satoru's bosom buddy; the omega's association with the Gojo scion gives him concessions. 

Twenty years ago, Suguru would require a sponsor to attend Tokyo Cursed Metropolitan Technical College. Thirty years ago, he would have been head-hunted as a potential bride. His acquiescence (likely coerced) would allow him to continue his studies. Still, even that would be contingent on the whims of the alpha he was attached to. Fifty years ago, he would have been considered persona non grata; omegas with Megumi's background and breeding were the first to walk on the Tokyo and Kyoto campuses. 

Suguru is probably considered an applicant in the Gojo bridal pool; pleasing the Gojo scion means easier relations with one-third of the Gosanke.

It's an insult to Suguru's capabilities, but it is also a boon. He's protected from the vultures and other carrion birds of prey.

He doesn't want to give credence to negative thoughts, but is it cynical of him when facts support his theory?

An omega sorcerer isn't a novel concept. They have existed as Miko under the leadership of a Shinto Priest. As warriors, usually from samurai families or shaman clans. As generals in tumultuous times and rose to prominent roles.

However, there were caveats and restrictions; there were always limits and conditions on their actions. Their so-called internal locus was burdened by familial obligations, societal expectations, and laws meant to hinder their sex. 

They brandished opportunities for independence and created false visions of equality.

Miko took vows of chastity; warriors were bound to their alpha parent and later their alpha mate. They existed as an extension of their mate or were lauded for dedicating themselves to religion. Despite their value equating to their fecundity and wombs, the bulk of jujutsu shamans are alphas and omegas. 

In the days of old, beggars could not be choosers; the gifts of omega sorcerers were used and exploited. 

"You're a special-graded sorcerer," Megumi consoles. They might be canon fodder, but they'd be hard-pressed to find another sorcerer of Suguru's caliber when their ranks are already sparse. "That counts for more than you think."

"So are you," Suguru points out, "But they won't give you the title."

Megumi shrugs; he doesn't care; that's the result of petty rebellion. Politicians who enjoyed the patronage of the Zen'in were not happy with the choice of a potential successor; they chose to die on a hill of protest and, in return, forfeit Zen'in sponsorship. "I'm not doing this as a career; I'm just interested in what they can teach me. But I noticed it's a lot of what I can't do rather than what I can."

"You don't want to be a shaman?" Suguru seems genuinely puzzled by that.

"I am a shaman," Megumi affirms, "I just won't pursue it as a career. It's more of an obligation."

"You come from a family of jujutsu sorcerers-"

There's a knock on the door, and a voice full of whimsy shouts, "Suguru!"

2023

Megumi is a list maker.

He considers it self-care. It creates routine and structure. It helps him prioritize what matters, what's time-sensitive, and what requires careful consideration, and it helps him ensure that important areas of life are not neglected. 

It's self-care; Megumi organizes his life, reduces stress and anxiety, and records every detail, appointment, and errand.

Omegas are prone to autoimmune disorders from chronic stress; the usual causes are hormone imbalances from heat, pregnancy, or alphas. 

Megumi compartmentalizes, maintains clear boundaries, reduces internalization, and makes lists.

Satoru was once a cause of duress; Megumi will not allow anyone, particularly an alpha, to be his downfall.

Megumi indoctrinates the alpha; he adopts his method of madness with aplomb.

The alpha points an elegant digit at the screen, "Forward mail to our new address."

"Oh, that's a good one."

Megumi adds it to the list.

"Contact your internet provider. We're moving wards, and what you have here may not be available there."

Megumi types furiously.

"Update our IDs and submit our family registries."

Megumi adds that to the list as well. 

He leans back against Satoru's side, the alpha's arm on the back of the couch, while the TV plays some stupid, slapstick reality show with the volume low. 

Megumi exits the moving list and creates a new list of topics he needs to research: demographics, school districts, safety, climate, transportation, healthcare, tourism, crime, the housing market, recreational activities, and parks. 

He can answer most of these questions more or less. He's lived in Kyoto-shi for over fifteen years, but he wants more insights into some.

He checks his calendar next and curses, "Shit."

It's time for his and Nobara's annual weekend vacation. It's a tradition; they've done it for over a decade despite the constant upheavals of life. This trip includes Itadori Junpei.

He can't cancel, so he has to rearrange the meeting with the wedding planner, change plans with Chika-san, and cancel the date he and Satoru planned for Saturday.

"What's wrong?"

Megumi doesn't want to leave the alpha alone, so he devises a plan.

"You know Yuuji, right?"

Chapter Text

"Yeah."

Megumi turns to look at him. "Did you meet through Nobara?"

A rictus smile curls his glossy lips; Satoru says grimly, "No, a common enemy." 

Megumi waits for him to explicate, but the alpha is silent. When he prods him for more details, the alpha tenses, his expression shutters, and he shuts down.

Megumi has unknowingly walked into a field of landmines. One Satoru is slowly but surely dismantling.

"I don't want to talk about. Maybe later."

He's never done that before, but Megumi respects the boundary he sets and dares not cross his line in the sand.

Megumi backs off and apologizes.

The alpha excuses himself and absconds.

Megumi stares at his departing back.

Then, he texts Yuuji.

Me: Hey

Me: About this weekend.

Nobara: Bitch ヽ(`⌒´メ)ノ

Nobara: Are you canceling!? (╯°益°)╯彡┻━┻

Me: No!

Me: I know Kyo-chan likes the train ride, but Satoru volunteered to take us.

Nobara: Satoru

Nobara: SATORU

Nobara: BITCH!!!!!!!

Me: Shut up.

Me: Why didn't you tell me Toshi-chan is named after Satoru? Or that Yuuji and Satoru are good friends? Or that Yuuji's mum ate Suguru's brain and made him a meatsuit!? 

Nobara: (Sends a screenshot of their chat; every iteration of Satoru's name made by him is crudely circled)

Nobara: Bitch! This is why Shoko suggested a double date. You finally fucked him? Didn't you!?

Nobara: Also, fuck you and your accusations. You were on an information diet; the less you knew, the happier you were.

Nobara:  (งಠ_ಠ)ง　σ( •̀ ω •́ σ) Fuck you again, I didn't make that decision, you did. 

Nobara: Yuuji tried to tell you, but the moment you heard Bright Eyes' name, you asked for the redacted, cliff notes edition.

Nobara: Your fault! (╬ Ò﹏Ó)

Me: Fuck You! That's what Yuuji said! You should have forced me to listen!

Nobara: Megumi, we know you!(ﾉಥ益ಥ)ﾉ You're fucking stubborn and powered by spite. Once you've made up your mind, talking to you is like talking to a brick wall.

Megumi flushes, embarrassed. He's not that bad; well, he can be, especially when he wants to maintain his boundaries.

Me: Shut up.

Nobara: Lame.

Nobara: It's the truth.

Me: Sorry  (*_ _)人.

Nobara: You're an idiot.

Me: I'm an idiot who is sorry.人(_ _*)

Nobara: Bring me your mom's food, and your apology will be accepted.

Me: Okay.

Me: See you Thursday evening.

He's never seen him interact with children. 

"Satoru-oji-san!"

Ieiri Kyosuke has his sire's dreamy eyes, his dam's mischievous smile, his sire's pale skin and recognizable mole, and his dam's boisterous personality. He is Shoko's miniature but Nobara's reckoning. 

He lights up once he catches sight of Satoru, completely bypassing Megumi, nearly knocking over his dam, and sidestepping his sire.

"Kyo-chan!"

Yes, he saw pictures of him with his former students, but this is different. 

He picks up the five-year-old and throws him in the air. The pup squeals and the alpha throws him up twice more. When he comes down, he hugs Satoru tightly. The alpha laughs and says something that makes the pup giggle. He maneuvers him onto his shoulders; they both sport impish smiles. 

Megumi stares.

He imagines a tow-haired, green-eyed boy in Kyo-chan's place.

Megumi's thoughts, instincts, and emotions are all in sync. 

He wants a baby.

Chapter Text

2006

Megumi presses his index fingers to his lips and whispers, "Let's pretend no one is here, and maybe he'll get the message and disappear."

Suguru rolls his eyes, "Your beef with Satoru needs to be studied."

Beef? Megumi doesn't mind Gojo; a similar background and similar burdens make the alpha relatable. It's just Megumi doesn't have the tolerance for his default setting.

"That guy sucks." Megumi's shadow shifts and forms a small oubliette. Megumi reaches down and pulls out another duffle bag. 

Suguru huffs, "He's not that bad; you two have more in common than you think."

He knows, Gojo knows, Shoko knows, Nobara knows, and Suguru knows. Everyone knows. That is the consensus, the universal opinion, but Gojo Satoru is an idiot. Two steps forward become three steps back.

"I know," Megumi rummages through the bag and pulls out several items. "When he isn't cosplaying as a village idiot, he's cool people. But unfortunately, he's a dumbass 90% of the time."

Said dumbass bangs on the door, "I know you're in there! I can see you both!"

"That's creepy as fuck!" Megumi shouts.

"Just wait, Satoru!" Suguru follows on his coattails.

"But Suguru!" The alpha whines. "Sharing is caring!"

"Patience is a virtue!"

"Waiting is a hardship!" The alpha grouses.

"Patience is bitter, but the outcome is sweet!" 

"Oooooh! Will you give me a treat?"

Megumi scoffs, "What is he a dog?"

"Hah! He's a teenage alpha, so they're about the same," Suguru shakes his head.

"Dogs are better," Megumi says, and then he points to the pile of blankets and shirts. "For your nest, just in case it starts before we arrive."

"Oh, thank you!"

Gojo knocks on the door again, "Fushiguro! Are you holding Suguru hostage!?"

Megumi meets Suguru's eyes, "Maybe you should get him a leash."

"He'd probably make it a fashion statement. Satoru has the strange habit of turning the tables on people," Suguru replies, fond and exasperated.

Doesn't Megumi know it.

His shadow shifts again, and balloons swallow half of the room. "I'll see you this weekend. Call me or Nobara if your heat comes early."

"What if you're on a mission?"

"Yamato-sensei will understand," Megumi is unconcerned.

"What about Eguisa-sensei's hairline?"

"If he didn't want to be stressed out, he should have never taken that promotion. Let's hope the raise gets him a better hairpiece."

Suguru laughs.

"Take care of your baby alpha."

Megumi takes a step back and disappears into the void.

At his feet, Rabbit Escape thumps. Its shadow echoes as it hops, a sign of excitement or a warning.

Danger is near. 

Orochi crawls like the darkness that creeps, spectral and sly. It slithers around his legs and tightens its coils around his ankles and calves.

Something wicked this way comes. 

On his head, Gama loudly croaks, "Return home."

He will not.

Megumi continues reading, if it was a true threat, Megumi would be swallowed by the dark below. 

"I swear it's a Pokémon episode every time I see you."

"Don't look at me then," Megumi slaps Gama's tongue away from his book. That shikigami mirrors its animal counterpart too aptly.

"I'd have to blind myself, but then I'd ruined my gorgeous face. Do you want that crime on your conscience?"

"What conscience?" He replies monotonously. "Self-mutilate away."

"Wow, that's cold; the bystander effect is a blight on humanity!"

Megumi makes a noncommittal noise.

He hopes his lack of enthusiasm dissuades him. Megumi has a social gauge; when it's full, he has to disengage, recuperate, and then reenter the fray. Suguru is sleeping, and Nobara has broken several friend rules to abscond and visit Shoko. She might be absent for a while yet. She smells like omega pheromones and probably took advantage of that. He can't hate her as a player or her game.

"How is he?"

Damn, he didn't get a clue, but is he here as a concerned friend or a knothead?

Suguru swears they're friends, but his tell-tale blush says otherwise. Gojo, well, Gojo doesn't seem to have any sense of physical boundaries, and they engage in behaviors that blur the line. Suguru isn't rebuffing him and seems to welcome his attentions.

Nonetheless, the line is drawn at heats.

"He's fine."

That is an understatement. 

With the onset of heat, Suguru took his first dose of new suppressants and suffered through the exacerbated symptoms of a medicated heat. He was warned it would get worse before it got better. Cramping, nausea, fatigue, hot flashes, migraines, and insomnia; with the biological imperative gone, all that is left is exhaustion. 

Suguru won't know if his new medication works until his next cycle. In the meantime, his heats will be regulated, and he'll no longer face back-to-back heats or their absence.

Megumi isn't inclined to let the omega undergo the torture of adjusting to new suppressants. However, Suguru is stubborn; he has his pride even when given a helping hand, so when exhaustion settles into his bones and he can't escape the realm of dreaming, Megumi dispatches Round Deer and fills the room with orbs of light to heal, to ease his burden, to lull him into a restful sleep.

Gojo's shoulders drop in relief, "Good."

Megumi turns the page of his manga and concludes he's a concerned friend.

"Does he need anything? He didn't let me see him after he went into preheat." He sounds petulant, and Megumi looks at him from the corner of his eyes—he's pouting. Ew.

Is he an idiot? He can't be serious.

Megumi knows he's spoiled, but even he has to understand propriety. A modern world does not mean a progressive society and liberal views. An omega's value is their womb; it is tied to societal views and expectations. 

He, Nobara, and Suguru may be omegas that break the mold, but even they understand that.

"Why would he? He's not stupid."

Gojo cocks his head. "We're best friends, we share everything."

"But this," Megumi replies derisively. "Suguru knows his worth."

"You don't believe in that bullshit, do you?" Gojo asks bemused.

"What are you talking about?" Megumi snaps.

"You're virtue signaling," Gojo says with distaste.

"Fuck you," Is his swift rejoinder.

"That's disappointing. I thought you were better than the rabble who parade on high horses," He says mockingly.

"That's literally how people see us! They look and hear, and that's what registers!"

"Virginity is a construct, and any value placed on heats is obstructed by the polarizing views society has created. Purity is intertwined with tradition and deeply embedded into our perception. But even you can overcome that." Gojo's condescending tone and patronizing smile make him want to punch the alpha's pretty face. "You can set yourself free!"

Megumi's eyes narrow; he purposefully does it, an enigma that seeks Megumi's antipathy. He provokes him, but Megumi will always rise to the occasion when someone seeks to intimidate him. 

The insult will not be taken lying down.

Gojo Satoru is a bastard.

Megumi hisses, "Big words and big dreams for an idealist. Let's talk about reality."

Gojo's eyes gleam.

"Lets."

Three weeks later, they battle like titans, and Megumi comes to a terrible realization.

Chapter Text

They stand in the living room of Shoko's and Nobara's home.  

Shoko stands opposite them, arms crossed.

Satoru kneels before them. 

"See you later, Mama!" Kyo-chan waves, perched in his dam's arms.

Shoko smiles, "See you! Have fun with Yudai-chan!" 

"Don't eat out, Shoko! There's enough food to last the weekend," Nobara frets. "Make sure to sleep! I got your favorite whine and made you finger foods. Don't watch our favorite dramas without me. If you miss us, call me and text Yuuji so you can FaceTime Kyo."

"I will, Nobara, thank you," The alpha's tone is full of warmth. "Love you."

Nobara blushes, pleased, "Love you, too."

It's saccharine sweet.

Megumi and Satoru exchange glances. The alpha pretends to gag, and Megumi purses his lips and valiantly tries not to laugh.

This is Nobara's and Shoko's usual routine before they embark on their annual weekend vacation. These displays of affection, these affirmations of devotion, and these vows of love.

These moments often left him envious, but he could not begrudge their happiness. These moments often alienated him, but they made him hope he could someday join their ranks. 

But now, these moments are shared with someone on his side.

Satoru blows him a kiss, Megumi sticks out his tongue, Satoru dramatically clutches his heart, and Megumi rolls his eyes.

"Catch you on the flip side."

"See you in five."

Gojo presses two fingers to the ground and concentrates cursed energy into one singular point; cursed energy becomes the medium as he murmurs an incantation, and words flow seamlessly from his fingertips.

He manipulates space-time and creates wormholes between two locations. 

Some phantom wind swoops through the residence; they are there, and then they are gone in its wingless glory.

---
What is infinite?

Megumi used to think it was the greed of men, but there are other hungers that are insatiable and undying. 

Like the curiosity of a depraved mind unhindered by conscience.

Yuuji is the result of that curiosity.

In their hour of discontent, Megumi and Nobara meet Yuuji and Junpei in the bleak winter of early 2007. 

It's polarizing to glimpse back and try to reconcile the past with the present. 

They land in the inner courtyard of the Itadori residence. Megumi stumbles, unused to this mode of transport, despite teleporting with Satoru.

The oldest of Yuuji's and Junpei's brood open the door. She is her dam's mirror image, but her mannerisms are a carbon copy of her sire's at his most disdainful. Acute boredom paints her face, but her manners are decorous. "Megumi-oba-san, Nobara-oba-san, Kyosuke-chan," she greets and bows. "You're early. Okaa-san is out, but Otou-san is here." She opens the door wider, "Please come in."

"Naomi-chan, good to see you." Megumi greets mildly, a fond smile for the preteen alpha girl. The first child amongst their cohort, spoiled and doted on by the lot of them.

Naomi smiles faintly. She is aloof to many, but her demeanor is self-effacing, gracious, and polite to those she knows.

"You get prettier every time I see you!" Nobara squeals; she hugs the preteen, who stands stiffly in her half hug. 

She and Megumi share a commiserating look over Nobara's shoulder.

Naomi hugs her back awkwardly, "Thank you."

"Are you holding my child hostage?"

Yuuji appears in the entrance, carrying that ancient allure Megumi associates with Satoru. Where Satoru is some esoteric entity that was struck down from the heavens and forced to gain fair form in human guise, Yuuji crawled from the depths of hell with the promise of fire, brimstone, and the salting of the earth with every step on fertile terrain. He holds the door open. "Come inside, you'll let in pests."

Nobara's eyes narrow, "What are you insinuating?"

"Nothing, woods witch, you look for insult in every word I say."

"That's because everything is an affront to you. People breathe wrong, and you're offended," Nobara snipes.

"That's because you're all fallible creatures," Yuuji says superiorly. "Everything has fault."

"But that's what you love, beauty in what is flawed and broken," Megumi intercedes in their bickering. "Hi Yuuji."

Yuuji opens his mouth to no doubt dish out some cutting reply, but then he closes it and smiles wryly. "You're right. Good afternoon, Megu."

When they were kids, Megumi thought Yuuji was the perfect alpha. Someone he would proudly bring home to his parents without fear of his sire's scrutiny and acrimony and his mother's caustic commentary coated in honey. He was someone he would marry without reservations, find the friendship he admires in his parent's marriage, and happily have children with.

But Yuuji was madly in love with Yoshino Junpei, and Megumi had already played the role of homewrecker and ended up being the loser. Why would he co-sign himself to misery once again? 

Yuuji and Junpei are a love story, and Megumi and Nobara ensured they lived to become who they are today.

"Let's get inside."

---

Itadori Satoshi is the youngest.

Dark of hair, red-eyed, cherubic, and darling.

He looks excitedly between Megumi, Nobara, and Kyosuke unable to decide who to approach first. Then he looks to his siblings for cues and sees them bow and clumsily follows suit.

When the toddler looks up, he sees a new person, a familiar face. He wriggles in place and holds up his arms in the universal sign to be picked up.

Satoru obliges his namesake and loudly kisses the pup's cheek, eliciting giggles and a sticky-fingered hug.

Megumi stares.

He doesn't think he can wait until December.

They need to find a compromise.

ASAP.

Chapter Text

To no one's shock, well, to those who know him, Yuuji is a chef—an acclaimed and accredited one.

The golden and red-eyed alpha's motto is to nourish the body, the soul, and the mind. He's traveled, brought along his mate and children, determined to taste what this world can offer. Yuuji sinks his too-sharp teeth into the world and suckles on its ripe flesh.

He's a foodie now but still caters to his family and puts on a show for his friends. 

Junpei, however, is not impressed.

"We'll be late."

"They're guests; we have to show them hospitality," Yuuji insists.

"No."

"But Jun-chan!"

Megumi and Satoru pay them no mind; they have another three hours before they check-in. 

"Removable covers," Megumi taps on the screen on his mobile. "We can order different colors."

"Leather might be the best option," Satoru opines. 

"Maybe we should hire an interior decorator," Megumi suggests. "I want it to feel like a home; an expert will know what we want."

"We don't have to move immediately," Satoru informs him. "We're not on anyone's timeline but our own."

Megumi shakes his head, "I'd like to be settled before June."

"Then we'll use your furniture until we find an interior decorator," Satoru says reasonably and then Satoshi approaches, immediately starts giggling, and falls across Satoru's lap.

"Play!" The toddler burbles.

"What have we here? A Toshi-chan!?"

Megumi takes in the alpha's side profile, his grinning pink lips, those haunting blue eyes framed by thick, long lashes, elegant nose, and refined jawline.

Their kids are going to be beautiful.

"How often do you see Satoshi?" He inquires.

"Two to four times a month. When he's older, I want him to come and visit us for a weekend once a month," Satoru answers, lifting the little boy off his lap and into his arms. 

"Our door is opened to him," Megumi agrees and notes, "He's fond of you."

"He's an outgoing kid," Satoru flips the pup upside down, and he squeals. "At this age, he's still easy to please and manageable. He was a low-maintenance baby; I doubt his temperament will change as he ages."

"You're really involved in his life," Megumi wonders aloud.

"Up!" Satoshi shouts.

"Yeah," Satoru flips him upright and throws him in the air. Laughter fills the air.

"Is December still non-negotiable?" Megumi asks quietly.

"What?" Satoru shoots him a perplexed look. 

"I don't want to wait until December," Megumi says meaningfully. "Let's renegotiate." 

"What," He says again, more statement than question.

Megumi points between the alpha and the pup, then slowly pronunciates his words, as if speaking to someone mentally deficient. "I want a baby; you obviously want one too. Let's meet in the middle!"

Satoru blinks, then cradles Satoshi against him and stands. "No."

"September! That's a good compromise!"

Satoru shakes his head and walks away. 

"This isn't over!" 

Satoru ignores him and escapes into the hall. Satoshi waves over his shoulder, "Bye!"

Megumi ignores their peanut gallery and followes the alpha.

Chapter Text

Satoru enters the playroom and plops Satoshi on the floor.

Megumi follows, hot on the alpha's heels.

"Yuki-chan," Satoru greets.

Itadori Yukina glances up, pulls out one headphone, and waves. Megumi ruffles her hair, and the little girl glares and scoots away from the offending hand. Megumi pinches her cheek, she scowls, puts her headphone back in, and goes back to reading.

Satoru heads to plastic drawers, toy chests, and bookcases. Megumi joins him, arms crossed, vexed, and determined.

"I'm not having this discussion," Satoru says blandly, "and I'm not arguing with you in front of children. Wave your white flag now; this isn't a battle you'll win."

"But not the war," Megumi says grimly.

"What war? We have an armistice," Satoru pulls out a plastic drawer full of blocks. "Even if it was a war, we'll both win."

"I want a baby," beseeches Megumi, "Why can't we have one?"

"A baby?" The question is innocuous, but there's something in the cadence, an insinuation. It makes Megumi tense. "You don't think I want that?"

There it is. It was hidden, but it's there. It's matured and gained emotional intelligence, but there it is—mercurial and Janus-faced.

But Megumi is dauntless to a fault.

"You do want it, but on your terms." 

"Megumi, Megumi, Megumi. That's not how I remember it. It's cute how you twist my words and make me the villain~." 

"I just-"

Satoru abruptly closes the short distance between them and traps Megumi between the wall and the bookcase. Megumi gasps and stares at the alpha wide-eyed. The plastic container is an uncomfortable weight between them; it digs into Megumi's skin as the alpha pushes Megumi against the wall. He leans in, his lips a hairsbreadth from his ear. "You don't think I want to split you open," He husks, low and filthy. "Fuck you until you cry, fill you with my cum, and knot you mine. Watch you get fat with my pup and fuck you as you carry my child?" His lips trail his neck, tacky from the chapstick he stole from Megumi. "Hm, Megumi?" He bites his earlobe; Megumi gasps again and reaches out blindly to grip his forearms. 

"Oh."

"But that would make me a brute and our marriage a sham built on lust and base instincts. I wanna do right by you, but Megumi wants me to be a big, bad alpha. Whatever shall we do?"

Megumi swallows, "Compromise."

Satoru chuckles, "I'll fuck you in heat, but I won't give you a baby. Not yet."

Megumi pouts.

Satoru quickly kisses him, and grins when the omega tries to bite him.

2006

Verdant pools regard him without emotion. They see him, but they do not perceive him. He is another person on the street, a stranger on the endless road of life.

That won't do.

Gojo Satoru is a force of nature; where he goes, he is noticed; where he is known, he is revered and loathed.

He steps into his path, the omega segues around him. He steps into his path again; green eyes barely bat a lash, and they peer at him through the gimlet eye of a needle. In that moment, he disperses and splatters into black viscous liquid; it writhes and grows, then shoots across the expanse and reforms into humanoid form.

"Tch." He looks over his shoulder and in the distance is Fushiguro Megumi. He continues his trek unimpeded and unencumbered by his persistent pursuit.

It frustrates and excites him.

This brand of disengagement is unfamiliar; the silence, the complete disregard, existing as a ghost in a group of people, purposefully overlooked while everyone else is acknowledged. This is psychological warfare, a torment he'll gladly undergo for the challenge.

Doesn't Megumi know better than to incite a chase? Between alpha and omega, the prey is obvious, but in the game of cat and mouse, the chances of Megumi fleeing are nihil. He would turn the game into a trap and aim for the jugular.

He teleports and gets into his face and into his space. Leaning in close, Megumi does not flinch, those green eyes remain flat, a depthless pool that reflects nothing, mirroring his blank expression. 

It would be disconcerting if he weren't so lovely.

"I'm starting to think you're avoiding me~."

"You would be correct," He says candidly, and once again steps around him and continues walking.

"Why?" Satoru walks backward, matching his ground-eating strides with longer legs.

He blinks, "Do I need a reason?"

"I thought we were friends." No, he didn't; what is between them is nebulous, unnamed, filled with uncertainty, but a tangible tension.

"Huh," Megumi's disinterest continues to grate, "What gave you that thought?" 

"Only a friend would put their life on the line. Only a friend would help a friend do something stupid enough to kill them both."

"That's not friendship," Megumi refutes.

"What is it then?"

"Curiosity and spite," Megumi says in boredom. "The favor was disproportionate, but it was a win-win scenario."

"So I shouldn't say thank you or apologize for hurting you. Suguru told me after nearly beheading your shikigami; you were in a coma for a week." He waits for a reaction and receives nothing for his troubles.

Something about Fushiguro Megumi makes his canines ache, something about Fushiguro Megumi gets under his skin, something about Fushiguro Megumi makes him want to-

"That's the cost of the ritual," says the unflappable omega.

He used to be more emotive; he used to show more sides to himself, but Gojo Satoru has gained his enmity.

The omega's lip curls with derision, "You didn't escape unscathed either."

Chapter Text

Once a year, Megumi and Nobara take a raincheck from reality and escape into the wilds.

Once a year, Megumi and Nobara splurge and visit a resort town.

Once a year, Megumi deviates from his routine and leaves behind the tedium of work.

Once a year, Nobara sheds the titles that have integral parts of her identity, wife and mother, and becomes the girl she once knew, but she cannot shed the guise of mate.

This year, they booked a ryokan in the resort town of Karuizawa in Nagano Prefecture.  

This accommodation hosts private onsens; while Sengataki Onsen is on the docket, they spoil themselves with the inn's amenities.

"I miss Kyo-chan!" Nobara laments. 

Chin perched on his palm, long hair pushed from his face; Junpei smiles in commiseration, "I miss mine too, then I realize I need a break."

"I don't know how you do it! I'm overwhelmed with one," Nobara complains.

"Teamwork and coffee," Junpei replies. "It helps that Yuuji is an equal parent; hell, he's a better parent." 

"I feel bad; Kyo is an only child. I want more, but," Nobara bites her lip and seems to experience internal turmoil. "He's a beta; every firstborn in my family has been an omega girl. I'm obligated to try again and give my order an heir." 

Nobara comes from a line of shamans deemed woods witches. Her matrilineal clan heads an order of Shinto priests.

"Can you adopt from a cousin?" Megumi inquires languidly. The blistering water is now a pleasant warmth.

"No, they have to be a direct descendant."  

"Damn."

"I don't have the best advice," Junpei begins. "A child born out of obligation isn't ideal, and the chances of having an omega girl aren't certain." Brow furrowed as he considers his words and voices his thoughts, he continues, "You love Kyosuke despite the responsibility you have to your family, so if you have another child, have them because you want them; you might end up disappointed otherwise." 

Silence answers him, and the older omega looks up and sees a captivated audience. He blushes and rubs his neck self-consciously, "Er, I hope I didn't overstep."

"No! I can't decide if clapping is appropriate!"

Megumi gives him a thumbs up, "Solid advice."

"Oh," Junpei laughs in relief.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Shoot."

"How did you and Yuuji decide if you wanted kids?" Megumi avoids Nobara's knowing gaze. She hasn't pestered him about his relationship with Gojo, but he knows it's coming. 

"Yuuji always wanted to be a dad; as for me, well, I don't want to bring the mood down, but before I met Yuuji, I didn't expect to live that long," Junpei reveals with a small brittle smile. "Kids weren't a thought, but when I met Yuuji I started to dream," He suddenly laughs, "that's why we have so many kids!"

So that's happiness. Megumi pondered it and came up short. It seems fleeting and fickle, but Junpei makes him believe the pursuit of happiness is worth it. 

Megumi smiles, "Do you think you'll have more?"

"I don't know," His laughter has faded into a small. The smile of the content, the smile of those who have tasted happiness and now have hope that springs eternal. "I thought we were done after Yudai. Satoshi was a surprise; I'm thirty-six, so I'll have to be more cautious with my health after four kids. But I wouldn't mind another. What about you? You and Satoru are newlyweds, so it might be too early to think about."

Megumi wonders how much Junpei knows. Shoko is aware, but values her friendship with Satoru despite the conflict of interests. Yuuji is his good friend but has a closer relationship with Nobara and Satoru. Junpei is probably aware of their reconnection, but if he knows the sordid details is left to be seen.

It doesn't matter.

Megumi and Satoru live by their own standards.

"We have; I want four," Nobara whistles in shock, and Megumi throws her a flirty glare. "Satoru says he's fine with whatever I want." 

"That's actually not surprising," Junpei says thoughtfully. "He's great with the kids, and I think he'd want a large family as an only child. Yuuji did, but we have the privilege of raising our kids with the resources I didn't have. I think if you're aware of the time, resources, and logistics of raising a child, then you can have more than one. Satoru's spent enough time with us to see how a large family works."

"He wants to be a dad," Megumi confirms, "seeing him with Toshi-chan cemented it for me."

"Is that why you two were arguing?" Nobara asks slyly.

Megumi blushes, recalling Satoru's words, a promise, a welcomed threat. "He's stubborn, he wants to wait."

"Megumi has baby fever!" Nobara crows.

Chapter Text

Perhaps it's childish, but it's a tradition he and Nobara have participated in since their adolescence.

An omega bonding pastime that Megumi and Nobara began when they grew comfortable with each other, spent time in each other's space, and trusted each other to move parts of their nests.

A blanket fort.

They invite Junpei to partake in this secret ceremonial.

"The sheets are too thin," Megumi finds fault and criticizes their materials, not their technique. They've perfected this; Junpei is a great addition to their routine.

"If we ask for any more sheets or pillows, we'll inconvenience the staff," Nobara chides.

Megumi frets and walks around their creation. It's lacking; it seems subpar compared to the other times they created a fort with barely any nesting materials and found themselves happy with the outcome.

Maybe it's irrational, of course it is. However, Megumi wanted Junpei's first experience in this ritual to be perfect.

"I think it's perfect," Junpei declares. "This was fun. I think I'll do this with Naomi-chan. It's a creative way to teach her to nest."

That sets Megumi at ease. This is how his mother taught him, through play and bonding, to impart a fundamental lesson.

"Well?" Nobara asks.

Megumi nods.

Perhaps this initiation isn't a complete failure.

---

Face bright red, drenched in sweat, chest heaving for breath, Megumi clutches his knees and gasps, "Water!"

It's a 6.4-kilometer hike to Sengataki Waterfalls. This should be easy work, but Megumi needs a break...again.

"Should we go back?" Itadori "Yuuji and I run eight kilometers three times a week with Toshi-chan in a pram" Junpei asks in concern. "You don't look so good."

Nobara, the traitor, cackles evilly, and he knows she's taken pictures of his suffering. "He's fine; he's just out of shape. Megumi! Did you stop taking that Pilates class!"

He did, but in his defense, he had to drop out of the weekly class to adhere to his former demanding work schedule. Megumi was a cog in a broken machine that valued capital over their employees' health. He managed to do Yoga twice a week, but even that was a difficult endeavor.

"Water," He croaks.

Junpei passes his water flask to a grateful Megumi.

"I told you to pick up weight training," Kugisaki "I'm still a part-time shaman" Nobara lectures. "You could have done it after work." Megumi gulps down the contents of the bottle and puts his growing ire on the back burner, letting it heat until it screams with steam. Nobara continues, unaware of his annoyance or uncaring; Megumi suspects the ladder. "Maybe you should consider training again. I'm sure Bright Eyes will be up for it, or you can train with the Hei, but you'll probably be embarrassed. At one time, didn't you kick their asses for fun? Yeah, stick with Bright Eyes and spare yourself the humiliation."

When he's hydrated, he glares with the might of a thousand suns and flips her off, "Bitch."

"I know you are, but what am I? A super bitch, and a smart one!"

"That's..." Megumi doesn't know what to say to that.

"Brilliant," Nobara raises her chin.

"I wouldn't say that," Megumi shakes his head.

"You're a hater, just admit I'm awesome!"

"You have your moments," Megumi huffs and rolls his eyes heavenward.

"All the time," she argues.

"Wisdom chases you," Megumi replies acerbically.

As they bicker Junpei watches on like an indulgent mother of two.

---

Megumi winces.

Even after a spell in the hot spring, his muscles ache. Powering through 13-kilometers of hiking, even with frequent breaks, was bound to leave him in a world of pain.

He tries to find a comfortable position and nearly knocks over part of the blanket fort. He pulls his knees to his chest and freezes, waiting with bated breath to see if the pillows fall over. He lets out a sigh of relief when it doesn't and winces again when his legs throb in protest.

Near him, Nobara and Junpei sleep peacefully.

Megumi gives up.

He crawls out of the nest and summons Round Deer. Lying against its massive bulk, he pulls out his mobile and checks his notifications.

There are fifteen messages from Satoru. It looks like they were all sent at 8:00 P.M.

Did he delay them? He wonders if he anticipated his busy day or decided to wait, allowing Megumi to enjoy the day with his friends and reserve the night for himself.

Megumi frowns, he forgot to change the alpha's contact name. He fixes that and hovers over the emoji options, types heart, and stares at them. Before he can overthink, he decides on a blue heart. He saves it and refuses to acknowledge its connotations.

The ache subsides as the gossamer shroud of lights pulses with RCT.

Megumi reads each of Satoru's messages and likes the images of him, Yuuji, and the children at the park, in the backyard flowing through katas, playing football, making pizza with food stations around the dining room table, and drinking sake with Yuuji.

He decides to reciprocate and scrolls through the pictures Nobara took of him. Some people only want flattering photos, but he and Nobara made a pact to capture the good, the bad, and the ugly. This life is not promised; death was an ally and an adversary that hounded their every step.

These are images of today's activities.

He sends three of them and labels them before, during, and after.

The reply is immediate.

Satoru: Can I laugh at this?

Me: No.

Me: You can, but you can't tell me.

Satoru: Okay, I'm not laughing.

He's laughing his ass off and probably saving the pictures as a montage. 

Satoru: What were you doing? Are you okay?

Me: hiking. I'm on the mend.

Satoru: This is almost as bad as the glamping pictures.

Megumi's eyes widen, and he shoots a lethal glance in Nobara's direction. The omega is none the wiser and turns in her sleep.

Me: You saw that! Who showed you!?

Satoru: Shoko; it was mostly pictures of Nobara, but you were in the background.

Satoru: You looked like shit.

Me: You're not supposed to say that. You have to compliment me, even when I'm delusional.

Satoru: You're pretty even when you look half-dead.

Megumi smiles fondly, Asshole.

Me: I think I want to start training again. My stamina is terrible.

Satoru: Do you want help?

The alpha is the picture of virility, the prime example of an elite alpha. Megumi knows Satoru takes care of himself despite the ridiculous hours he works, the insurmountable tasks he undertakes, and the responsibilities on his broad shoulders.

He is in peak form.

It's a bit intimidating. Megumi was his equal at sixteen; at thirty-three, he's far from the powerhouse he was seventeen years ago.

Me: Maybe.

Me: I need to be in better health.

Especially if he wants a healthy pregnancy. Both parents impact the pregnancy; Satoru is in great condition, Megumi must catch up.

Satoru: C'mon, I'll make it worth your while. (¬‿¬ ) 

Megumi raises a brow.

Me: How?

Satoru: You get to see me shirtless. ∠( ᐛ 」∠)_ 

Megumi rolls his eyes and types out "vain idiot," but he pauses and thinks: That would be hot and motivating.

Me: Deal.

Chapter Text

"So?"

Megumi feigns ignorance, "Hm?"

"Well?"

Megumi blinks slowly, "What?"

Nobara makes a noise of impatience, "You know what I mean." 

"I really don't," Megumi replies monotonously, eyes half-lidded. 

Nobara sighs, "I can't stand you."

"I can't either," He ripostes with an elegant shrug of his shoulders.  

Nobara throws a pillow at his head, Megumi deftly catches it. They're scheduled to check out soon, and the deconstruction of their blanket fort lies around them.

"Ugh, you suck."

"You'll get over it."

Nobara heaves a sigh of frustration and Megumi allows himself an evil little smile. It vanishes when brown eyes flash with irritation and pin him in place.

"You and Bright Eyes seem to be on good terms. Have you two reconciled and decided to let bygones be bygones?"

Megumi wipes his face of all expression. 

He knew it was coming.

It was writ on her face! 

The telltale peculiar gleam in her brown eyes when she took in their countenance and their body language. The ease in their interactions, their mirrored body language, their good-natured bickering, and their intertwined hands.

It was why he volunteered to be their mode of transportation, to avoid her scrutiny. The two-hour train ride would have opened the floor for discussions he is unwilling to entertain. 

This isn't salacious gossip; this is the concern of a friend, but Megumi has grown weary of outsiders' perspectives and opinions. This is between him and Satoru, and well, his therapist. 

There are many things Nobara can tell him, but Megumi doesn't want to know. Is it selfish of him to want to bask in the realm of ignorance?

Perhaps.

When he dropped out in third year, he wondered what would have happened if he had met Satoru first, if he had never agreed to enroll in Kyoto Metropolitan Curse Technical College and trained with the Hei until he climbed the ranks and earned leadership and a team, if he told his uncle no and continued his life unencumbered by expectations and disappointments. He wondered what would have happened if he voiced his thoughts and feelings. If he wasn't a coward and let himself constantly be pushed aside as second best. He wondered, he wondered, and wondered. 

But knowing will only lead to ruminations of what-ifs.

"Something like that," He says evasively. 

"Megumi, seriously."

"Don't worry about it; we're taking it one day at a time," he assures her, but his tone invites no further commentary or brokers no arguments. 

Nobara, however, is skeptical but acquiesces to his judgment, "I'll take your word for it."

---

2006

The title of special grade is elusive, and Megumi does not seek it. His "mastery" of the tenth shadow labeled him a loose canon that cannot accurately ascertain a threat level, but Gojo Satoru was lauded for his strategic defeat of a rogue shikigami.

It's a great lark, and Megumi finds it hilarious.

Nevertheless, the powers that be enjoy child labor, exploit the Zen'in heir through this loophole, and utilize one of the rarer skills in his repertoire.

Most shikigami conjurors are long-ranged fighters, which is a flaw and a weakness. Ten Shadows is capable of long, mid, and close ranged fighting. Megumi was taught all three, but to be reduced to a medic is an insult. 

RCT is a rare ability, and singling out Megumi for that skill is an affront to the Zen'in, so Jinichi-oji-sama retaliates in the language they understand. Not violence but financial. 

Megumi is a member of the Hei before he is a student. The Zen'in elite force is a separate entity, and eliciting their services requires a contract. To avoid a conflict of interest, Megumi is compensated based on his skill set.  

So he happily takes these assignments, knowing the pocket change begrudgingly given to students is absent, the government is up-charged a 15% fee to the Zen'in, and Megumi is compensated like a contractor. 

"Hello," Megumi greets and bows.

They are older and appear disgruntled and intrigued by the appearance of a student. However, they are a group of second and third-ranked sorcerers. 

Megumi might be a second-ranked sorcerer, but he is still prodigious.

It must rankle to be compared to a student.

"The party is all here," Gojo Satoru appears, and casually walks towards their party. "Let's go!"

What the hell is he doing here?

Chapter Text

Megumi broke his two-year lease, waved goodbye to his deposit, and paid two months' rent and associated fees written in the contract. 

Now he has to pack.

He looks around the apartment in dismay.

The apartment is in disarray.

Boxes and clutter cover every flat surface. 

He's lived here for three years and hadn't realized how much junk he's accumulated. The amount of clothes he has is alarming. He vacuum seals his seasonal clothes, but he possesses an abundance of spring and summer clothes, which makes sense since he is liable to channel through two to three outfits a day after facing sweltering heat and unbearable humidity.

He contemplates what to get rid of, what to repurpose, and what will be replaced once they hire an interior decorator.

The books he doesn't have time to read, the manga he read, favored and collected in his teens and twenties, or the video games he played when he found spare time.

His skincare and beauty products are meticulously organized, but there's a surplus of items that can be discarded.

Megumi carefully sets aside Satoru's things; they've become intermingled with his own.

Speaking of the alpha.

Satoru's lease is up soon; what did the alpha say? August? That's another concern in a never-ending list. Maybe they can keep his apartment or find another unit with three bedrooms. He's not interested in house hunting in Chiba or Saitama and will leave that up to the alpha to decide. Their home in Kyoto suits his needs, and he trusts the alpha to have observed and analyzed his wants and needs and find a place that suits Megumi's tastes along with his own.

He'll wait for the alpha to come home and dismantle the Murphy bed, or maybe they should wait until the day of the move. Can they hire someone to do that for them? Megumi inquired about the services of a local handyman, but that interaction became awkward after the older man asked him if he had an alpha and if he would be interested in dating a beta.

Yeah, no. Satoru is here; he'll put him to work.

As he declutters, he wonders if he's making room for the new aspects of his identity or if he's discarding vestiges of the person he was. Is this a natural evolution of his character or someone he was always meant to be?

Megumi wonders if he embraced this change in his life too quickly. He was hesitant and then downright eager to throw in his lot with a blast from the past.

When is his appointment with Dr. Saruta?

It occurs to him that he doesn't have to get rid of everything superfluous or depart with items he's treasured. The moving service they hired charges per hour and kilometer if they exceed 80 km. He worried about the number of boxes and furniture they would have to make two trips, but Megumi is a walking pocket dimension; he could turn a four-man job into one. However, they live in a mundane world, and some appearances must be kept. He'll bring the things he deems significant with him and leave the rest to be transported.

Megumi pulls out one of his dresser drawers and dumps its contents into a box; he pauses on the next one, which contains the alpha's pajamas. With the summer approaching, Satoru sleeps in boxers and a shirt or simply in a pair of briefs; he doesn't need much for nightwear. Megumi dumps the rest of the clothes into the box and does it for the rest of the dresser drawers. Vacuum sealing them would be more efficient, but Megumi tapes the box closed and watches it sink into his shadow. 

He repeats this process and leaves out a duffle bag to choose clothes he and Satoru will use for the next three days until they relocate.

This is easy.

He steps into the living room and looks around.

He spoke too soon.

---

Satoru's schedule is a work in progress.

Delegation has eased the burden, but his availability, swift solutions, discerning opinion, and insight are still in demand.

Where he worked five to seven days a week, 12 to 22 hours a day, he reduced it to four days a week. The goal is three working days, one on-call, and the rest dedicated to his family. 

The problem is those four days often become 16 to 20 hour work days when he strives for ten.

He's busy, when is he not? He promised to help Megumi pack, called to warn him he might be late, and then texted, giving the omega hourly updates. He stopped answering around hour four.

So when he comes home, he notes that the genkan was finally repaired, and the coast closet and shoe cabinet are empty, but there's a box filled with shoes.

He opens the door and the warm and cozy apartment he started to associate with home has been transformed into a storage room.

So he wasn't the only person who was busy. 

The bedroom light is still on, but the cursed energy that flows around Megumi indicates his state of being.

He's asleep.

When he enters the bedroom, he immediately takes out his mobile for photographic evidence.

Megumi does drool when he sleeps.

Chapter Text

Megumi stumbles out of the bedroom and finds Satoru dressed and setting out breakfast: leftover side dishes, rice, the salmon he froze and grilled, a cup of coffee for Megumi, and a cup of over-sweetened tea for him. 

Megumi eyes the reopened box on the counter and comments, "You're repacking those plates." 

Unphased by his fastidious nonsense, he responds with a non-sequitur that throws him off guard.

"You drool when you sleep."

Megumi wipes his chin with the back of his hand; it's dry.

Green eyes slightly widen and then narrow, "Liar." 

Satoru smirks, "Check in the mirror."

Megumi hurries into the bathroom, sees the dried trails of drool, makes a noise of indignation, and slams the door closed.

Satoru's stupid mocking laughter reaches his ears, and he flushes in mortification.

When the embarrassment fades, and lingering annoyance remains, he joins the alpha for breakfast. 

With a faint smile curling his lips, he passes him his coffee; Megumi childishly snatches it, but his ingrained manners leave him politely muttering his thanks. 

"You're welcome." Satoru finds hilarity in this curious dichotomy. It grows when Megumi takes a sip of his coffee and sighs in bliss.

Megumi flushes when he hears quiet laughter and flips the alpha off. Quick as lightning, Satoru reaches out and snatches the offending appendage. Megumi rewards him with token protest but promptly stops when the alpha brings it to his lips and sucks it into his mouth.

Blue, half-lidded eyes are piercing as the alpha stares into Megumi's startled eyes. He grins lazily, white teeth trapping the appendage, then swirls his tongue around it.

Megumi gasps but comes closer.

Satoru licks the underside, tongue warm and slick; he sucks it in deeper and then swallows, throat tight against the appendage.

Megumi whimpers, panties growing damp.

The alpha inhales, nostrils flaring, pupils dilating.

Megumi swallows, "What are you doing today?"

Please say nothing; please be free; he is ready to throw caution to the wind.

Satoru releases his finger with a wet pop, and Megumi watches, enraptured as he licks his full pink lips.

He grins wryly, "I'm free this morning but unfortunately busy this afternoon."

Megumi wilts, and Satoru tugs him closer until he falls into his waiting arms. "There isn't enough time for me to do what I want to you."

"We don't," Megumi starts; his courage usually rises at any attempt to intimidate him, but there's no intimidation, only the unknown, welcomed and warily regarded. He hides his face in his shirt but manages to utter, "We don't have to wait until my heat."

"Really now?" Satoru downright purs. "Is that an invitation?"

"An open one," Megumi assures with more confidence and peaks at him, taking in Satoru's defined jaw and strong neck.

"Pinky promise?"

Gojo Satoru is terribly seductive, but he is also a playful idiot.

"I promise," lips twitching, Megumi agrees to his ridiculous question.

"Good," the alpha buries his face in Megumi's hair and inhales deeply. "I'll take you up on that offer...soon."

Megumi shivers.

"Now, sit and eat."

Megumi deflates again; he likes Satoru's embrace, his heated words, and the muted, sticky, sweet scent of him. 

Satoru chuckles and cups his cheek, "You're cute when you pout."

Chapter Text

Satoru laughs incredulously, "Wait, what?"

Was he this infuriating?

Satoru knows his flaws, at least most of them, and his greatest sins in his youth were his arrogance, obstinance, and capricious behavior.

Already disheartened, Yuuta shrinks into himself and mumbles, "It's not funny."

He doesn't remember being this stupid.

"No, seriously, have you told her?"

Yuuta blinks rapidly and sniffles, "We're not together anymore."

"That's not an excuse," He says, unimpressed. He should show more sympathy, but this is a leader speaking to his heir.

Well, former heir, his eligibility has diminished, and Satoru is not feeling charitable; his disappointment is acute, but he'll get over it.

Yuuta buries his face in his arms and whines piteously.

"Is Maki the sire?"

Yuuta's reply is muffled.

Satoru's patience has grown with maturity and age, but it is not infinite. He cannot abide by his family, but he cherishes his loved ones. Yuuta's stupidity will be overcome; it is a stepping stone in a long, winding road.

"I can't hear you."

When he told Megumi he was busy this afternoon, he thought it'd be the quarterly familial obligations that required his attention. The Gojo function like a well-oiled machine; they seldom require his direct interference; they adapt to his decisions and benefit from his transformative leadership.

He did not expect this; when members of his family become broken and rusted cogs that disturb the functionality of their seamless operation, Satoru makes them dearly regret sowing discord.

Yuuta is an exception, but he also falls under that purview, especially with his ties to an executed auxiliary clan.

"I said I don't know!" Yuuta shouts in an anxious tangent. "I don't know!"

Satoru suspects Maki and yet he also considers Toge as another probability.

"That's not an answer," Satoru admonishes. "You have an idea, or you wouldn't be here wasting my time."

Yuuta flinches.

"You've landed yourself in quite the quandary." Satoru taps his lips. "What to do? What to do? You've already come to a decision; you're worried you've lost my respect." Yuuta closes his eyes tightly, and the tears he's been holding back finally fall. Satoru isn't heartless; concessions can be made, but first, he needs the facts before formulating a plan and remapping those already in motion. "You have, and you haven't. I'm disappointed but not surprised."

Yuuta sobs.

A pregnant omega cannot inherit.

At least not yet.

Satoru has systematically destroyed or chipped away at the foundation of rules that regulate his family and the system that enables them. Weaponizing the duality of male omegas and female alphas to deny them positions of authority and merit seems pointless and a waste of bureaucratic resources.

Installing Yuuta as the next Gojo head subverts the established rules required of an heir. In this case, the adoption of a young child from a cadet branch and the erasure of birth ties to ensure loyalty. Yuuta is a descendant of the extinct Maeda clan; that's the first strike against his qualifications; he is an omega, which is not ideal but workable. He is the inheritor of the lost inherited technique Kagami, which automatically qualifies him as a contender, but now he is pregnant, which undermines the trajectory Satoru created for him.

It's annoying; Yuuta came into Satoru's care ten years ago; he and a village and carefully selected individuals raised him. How could he be so stupid?

If he had just waited, motherhood would be possible for him. 

Satoru closes his eyes and forces him to calm his ire. Anger won't solve this issue; he needs to take a different approach. Yuuta turned to him for guidance and support; he can't callously disregard him but will not coddle him.

"All right, it's okay, we'll figure this out."

Yuuta cries harder, but Satoru does not offer him comfort.

They need a solution, not a pity fest.

---

The day started so promising!

Satoru rolls his shoulders, stretches his arms, and rotates his neck.

"The perimeter shifted 4 cm to the left," He observes.

"Acute observation, Gojo-dono!"

The last thing he needs is flattery; he ignores the obsequious comment and addresses his cousin, "This warehouse is under a stasis seal; why would it change position?"

"The Jikukan is a pocket dimension; we're still affected by tectonic migration."

"It's never done that before."

"It rarely happens," Takatsuji Makoto corrects him and provides relevant information: "Surveyor records show it moves several micrometers a year."

"Interesting, let's look into that."

The Gojo ancestral home exists anchored and parallel to the earth. Veiled behind an impenetrable barrier, it is the genius creation of two disciples of Tengen.

The Jikukan was one of the many inventions created in the Edo period. Over the decades, it has been modified and improved by innovators inspired by the distinguished disciples of Tengen. Unlike their compatriots, in the Showa period, the Gojo did not fall victim to censorship and suppression, nor did they succumb to the rise of jujutsu purity and elitism. They survived a millennium by constantly adapting to their changing environs. Why destroy what grants them the advantage and aids in their prosperity?

The Jikukan requires a steady source of curse energy to function. They rely on the residual miasma of cursed energy funneled from the shrine of their bound wrathful ancestor to maintain it.

It is one of the many barriers Satoru routinely checks with a barrier specialist, a seal expert, and a surveyor.

Tengen is the keystone for all seals and barriers in the country, but the presence of Six Eyes transfers many of her burdens onto him. Satoru manipulates space and time with ease; the growing web and parallels are broken or expanded at his whim. What he changes and manipulates cannot be replicated or altered until the next Six Eyes is born. Therefore, he keeps a paper trail and consults subject matter experts to ensure that each of his endeavors is reproducible.

It's tedious and mind-numbing work, but it has to be done.

He keeps himself motivated with thoughts of Megumi's lovely face flushed, eyes filled with yearning, pretty lips parted, waiting for his kiss, and the spice of his muted scent honeyed with desire.

It seared him.

His scent.

It struck him, a palpable hit. It left him salivating, filled him with a deep and abiding hunger that remains unquenched.

Every exchange, every glance, every touch benign or fueled by lust, left the impression of Megumi's titillating scent.

He wants, but he waits, and yet now he has permission to touch, to taste, to want, to devour and be devoured.

So he goes about his day imagining Megumi's sweet thighs and his head buried between them, suffocating on the sweet nectar of his cunt.

Chapter Text

2006

The first time is happenstance.

Gojo takes all the glory.

That was expected; Megumi wondered if his comrades resented him or resigned themselves to the order of things. Their initial reaction to his appearance differed from their reaction to him; Megumi would name their reaction relief—assurance that the odds were in their favor, that the fraying, ragged tethered of their limited mortality was saved, to tempt Fate to cut its thread another day.

There was also envy and fear.

The name, the name, what's in a name?

Gojo is synonymous with prestige; their reputation precedes them. They have a millennia-old legacy, rich in history and mysticism. Gojo Satoru is the clan's majesty brought to life. Of course, he inspires a cacophony of reactions, emotions, and thoughts.

Then, there's immediate trust in the presence of a capable alpha. An alpha, those dominate and wily creatures, but Gojo is not just any alpha. In a society that silently adheres to lookism and elitism, this alpha reigns supreme. When the general media speaks of elite alphas, that 5% of the 30% that make up the global population, Gojo Satoru is who they speak of.

The fear? Well, that's animal instinct. The ability to see the unseen is a gift and a curse, to exist in a world full of hellish creatures that consist of men and monsters, to learn that gods walk amongst them, that men like them carry the burdens of bloodlines anchored to Mononoke, that souls are ripped apart and put into dangerous vessels, well who wouldn't be scared?

Megumi does not muse on these thoughts with anger or resentment in his heart; he cannot control others' reactions or perceptions. Rather, he analyzes these responses and the factors that influence them.

He can change his surname and appearance but can't change his secondary gender, and he will always be judged for it. That subtle shift when people realize or are told he is an omega; he witnesses the way heuristics reshape their perception and how his merits and accomplishments are undermined and put into question as he is categorized into boxes that fit their understanding of the world.

It was why he refused to conform in appearance and behavior.

His parents accepted his piercings and self-expression, but they were hardly the norm. His uncle tolerated his appearance, demanded he conform for formal events, and found his behavior and personality novel.

So, he understands his comrades and does the job he was hired for.

Controlling the number of civilian casualties.

Megumi doesn't summon Piercing Ox often; it is a great addition to his chimeras, lending its brute strength and speed to the creatures' advantage. However, on its own, it serves one purpose, and Megumi does not live in an era filled with political upheaval and war.

So, he does what he does best—improvise.

Piercing Ox manifests alone or with a goshoguruma. Megumi uses the ox-driven cart as a medical station and uses his growing medical knowledge to administer first aid.

---

Twice is a coincidence.

Megumi travels by the dark.

He doesn't quite know what to call it. The abyss? That seems so sinister, but it is, isn't it?

In his attempts to perfect what was started by a previous inheritor of Ten Shadows and push the boundaries of his mutated technique, Megumi learns that some doors aren't meant to be opened.

His exit points are landmarks, streets he's explored, places he's memorized, but what's between them, those paths that lead him back to the light, are what interest him.

In the dark, wraiths of his shikigami travel with him, leading him and what he comes to realize later, protecting him. Once Megumi deviated from the path, fighting against the horde, wanting to explore. He poked and prodded, and the shadow, nay the dark below, writhed and resisted until an eye opened and looked back, daring him to blink. A voice, no voices, whispers, incoherent words rose in volume until they became blaring shrieks; Megumi covered his ears, and then he was hit with the urge to rip out his eyes, a sort of madness that was slow and crawling, but visceral enough to throw him over the precipice. The horde dispersed into viscous liquid, covering him, dragging him along, away from that unnerving eye that stared at the one that dared seek what is unseen even to his mortal eyes.

He learned to stick to the paths that were well-treaded, the ones that led to light, away from the endless tunnels.

He perfects his craft and meets Suguru at the assignment location. His presence isn't really necessary, but the omega is paranoid and wants to reduce civilian casualties. Suguru would usually ask Shoko, but her talents are becoming monopolized by school administrators and government officials. Meanwhile, Megumi is protected by the Zen'in and they cannot utilize his services without a hefty finder's fee and price gouging based on the assignment parameters.

Suguru is a special grade, so he receives a greater portion of the pay, but it is nowhere close to what he would make as a fully appointed shaman. The omega offered half of his compensation and the discontinued nail polish he knows Megumi admires as lures to accompany him. Megumi agreed readily; though he has a monthly allowance from his parents and uncle, Megumi is building a nest egg. He doesn't want the nail polish; he just wants to borrow it since Nobara refuses to share hers.

However, when he walks out of the shadow of a building, it's not Suguru he sees.

Gojo Satoru wears acute boredom like a second skin. The manager speaks to him, nervously wringing his hands, growing increasingly desperate as Gojo rolls his eyes, gives one-word responses, and outright ignores him. Suguru would have told the alpha to be kinder to the staff, but he's not here.

Where the fuck is Suguru?

Megumi checks his mobile; there are two missed calls and three texts from Suguru.

Electronics don't work in the dark below.

Gojo notices him, brightening with a smile that lights up his handsome face.

Megumi stares.

"Hi, Megumi! I come bearing gifts!"

Dangling between two long, elegant fingers is the prized nail polish. The person it's attached to is an unwelcomed sight, even if Megumi appreciates his beauty, feels his heart speed up, his hands become clammy, and his cheeks slightly flush at his unexpected appearance.

He quickly schools his features into neutrality, bows to the flustered manager, and asks, "Where's Suguru?"

"No, hi for me?"

Megumi waits expectantly.

Gojo crosses his arms and pouts.

Megumi reads his texts. Suguru was called away for a last-minute mission. It was a request made by an official. An escort assignment, something well beneath Suguru's qualifications. Megumi wants to ask the name; that's a bold move. Suguru exists with Gojo Satoru's influence, Megumi wonders if they are an ally-

Gojo suddenly fills his vision. Megumi freezes.

The alpha grips his chin and studies his face with interest. He taps his lip ring with a curious pointer finger, "That's new, I wondered what changed."

Sense returns with a vengeance, and green eyes become poison.

Fire fills his vision along with the snarling roar of Mourning Tiger.

Gojo dances out of attack range, laughing merrily.

---

The third time, the third is a pattern.

It cannot be borne.

"What the hell do you want?"

Gojo taps his lips and hums, "That's a hard question. I want a lot of things. Maybe I want you?"

Megumi moves without thought.

Orochi swiftly slithers and crawls from below, along his leg, torso, and arm. Opening its gaping mouth and pushing forth a sword from its gullet. Megumi grasps the hilt with practiced ease and grips saya. He pulls the blade from the shikigami's throat, slowly unsheathes the blade, and lets its sinister whispers and deadly promises fill his ears. The promise to slice through anything, to pierce, to cut through the world and bring his enemies to their knees.

The heavenly sword screams its battle cry, shrieking as it cuts through space and slices away at Infinity's impregnable force field.

Megumi uses the vow that binds it to him to keep it leashed.

Gojo's eyes widen, but instead of fear, he's excited.

Megumi has grown since their fight. Megumi has learned much since the Kyoto incident. He has not been idle.

There are many ways to fell a god.

"I'll kill you."

Gojo cocks his head, "You don't think you're overreacting?"

"You're harassing me," Megumi hisses. "You're using your status to find out my mission roster. I don't know what reason or what purpose you have, and I don't give a damn, but if you keep this up, we'll renew the Zen'in-Gojo blood feud."

It is not his anger he receives; Gojo rarely reacts the way Megumi expects, and when he does, he wonders if it is a farce.

"You don't talk to me; you don't answer my calls or texts," he says almost reasonably. His rationality almost makes Megumi feel bad, but he has his reasons. "You ignore me at school and functions. What am I supposed to do? Extreme situations require extreme measures."

The thing is, Megumi doesn't have a problem with Gojo; he has an issue with what he feels. The best way to get rid of a crush is to get over them, and ignoring Gojo was proving effective, but the alpha is persistent and will not let go.

"Can't you just leave me alone?" He says helplessly.

Gojo captures him with haunting blue eyes. "No."

Chapter Text

Megumi scans the QR code on the control panel and downloads the app.

It's a smart house; he didn't pay attention to that aspect; he was more concerned with the items on his checklist. This is another positive for the house they will make a home.

Temperature control, lighting, entertainment systems, appliances-

There's an advanced ventilation system. 

The lingering stench of foreign scents assault his nose. Satoru urged him to consider a moving company that specialized in omegan spaces; Megumi couldn't justify the short notice quote. He moved in haste, and now he has to reflect on his choices in leisure. 

Megumi adjusts the settings and releases neutralizing agents. He waits for a beat and inhales deeply. 

Nothing.

Yeah, that's definitely going to come in handy during his heat.

However, smart house or not, the summer humidity from July to September is a special kind of hell. June is bearable, but Megumi isn't taking any chances. With a house this size, they'll need three to five dehumidifiers.

"Satoru?" He calls, his voice echoing throughout the living room and kitchen. 

There's no response; he wonders if he should text.

He enters the hall and says the alpha's name, "Satoru?"

The alpha has a habit of muting his curse signature, shielding that monstrous presence, that esoteric entity beneath human guise.

He receives no reply, checks the bonus room, knocks on the lavatory door, and listens against the bathroom door for the shower. 

Nothing.

He heads upstairs, "Satoru?"

There's noise coming from one of the smaller rooms. Megumi opens the door, "Satoru, did you put in the order already? We should add another dehumidifier to the-"

The alpha disappears before his eyes and reappears several seconds later with two office chairs accompanying him. He registers him, pulls out his earbuds, and points to the door, "Out!"

"Wha..!" Then he's unceremoniously pushed out of the room with gentle but persistent force. The door closes behind them and Megumi stumbles but is steadied by firm hands on his shoulders. "You okay?"

He shrugs him off and glowers. The alpha kisses his cheek, and Megumi tries to pinch him in retaliation, but he is thwarted by Infinity.

Satoru sticks out his tongue and points to the sign on the door. "Construction in progress! Knock first or call 090-XXX-XXX!"

Megumi's frown deepens. It's a stupid sign; it matches his stupid face and stupid voice!

"Read or knock before entering," the alpha instructs. "You'll ruin the surprise."

Megumi already saw what was in the room: two desks and several unopened packages of varying sizes. The appearance of two office chairs completed the picture. 

"I already-"

"You'll ruin the surprise!" Satoru repeats, wagging his finger.

"It's an off-" Gojo cuts him off by squeezing his cheeks together.

"You'll. Ruin. The. Surprise!" 

Megumi glares with the might of a thousand suns. The shadows in the hall grow and lengthen, writhing like the flames of his ire.

Satoru is unphased. "Promise not to look?" 

He's annoying, he's so annoying. If they were still teenagers, Megumi would have headbutted him, kicked him between his legs, or threatened him with a heavenly sword. 

"Eh? I know that expression!"  

Megumi's hands ball into fists. When was the last time he used Black Flash?

"You're contemplating violence. Promise first, and I'll let you go."

"I'm gonna kill you!" The words are incoherent and said through fish lips, but the vitriol is corrosive poison.

Satoru hurriedly grips his nape, and Megumi melts against him, strings cut. Fighting this instinctual response was once second nature, but Megumi trusts Satoru, and the lack of danger lets him succumb, but not before he slurs, "I hate you."

"Sure you do," Satoru says patronizingly.

"I'm gonna kill you," Megumi grits out.

"Sure, sure, before you do that pinky promise."

Megumi twitches violently.

---

Satoru takes in the two futons, the pillow barricade between them, the nest Megumi and the lupine guardians lounge in and remarks, "Petty."

"Yup," Megumi says pertly.

Satoru enters the room, fresh from his shower, shirtless, sleep pants slung low on his hips, revealing miles of pale skin, pulled taunt over firm muscles. 

Megumi mentally slaps himself; he must not lose focus!

Satoru sits on the futon and leans on the barricade, chin on his open palm.

"Will you be okay?" 

Megumi rolls his eyes; why wouldn't he be?

"You like to cuddle when you sleep. You're a grade-A clinger." 

"I'll use a pillow, a plush, or the wolves," Megumi says primly.

"You also have frequent insomnia, and scent marking helps you fall asleep," Satoru pokes holes in his defenses, but his revelation sparks instant denial. 

"It does not!" 

"It does; you're a restless sleeper, especially when you're stressed. Scent marking got you to stop kicking me," He says smugly.

Megumi does not appreciate this slander.

"I don't believe you!"

"Come here," He teases, enticement rich in his voice, "and we'll find out if it's true."

"I'm not falling for that!" Megumi crosses his arms in an "X." 

Satoru chuckles, eyes dancing with iridescence. "For what?"

"The oldest trick in the book!"

"It's not a trick if it's true~" He lilts.

"It's not!"

"It is," Satoru blows him an air kiss.

"Fine, here!" He shoves his wrist in the alpha's face, giving his access to an inconsequential scent gland. 

Satoru stares at it, "That's not enough."

"What do you-eek!"

Swift and agile, Satoru reaches out, drags Megumi across the barricade, and perches him onto his lap. Megumi reaches out blindly and wraps his arms around the alpha's neck and shoulders. 

Shiro barks in alarm, and Kuro opens one eye. 

Satoru smiles impishly and encircles the omega in a loose embrace, "That's better."

Megumi regards him incredulously. 

"Now, about that demonstration." 

Chapter Text

Megumi inhales and becomes dizzy.

Megumi breathes and becomes intoxicated. 

Thick and heady, it fills his lungs, settles on his tongue, down his throat, and settles like warm sweetness in the belly. 

Satoru does not take suppressants, but takes an alphan birth control that inhibits his rut and lowers his fertility. 

His scent is another matter. It's a part of his repertoire. Like his looks, it is the result of genetic curation. 

He controls it, and he uses it like a weapon. This time, his target is Megumi.

Potent alpha pheromones permeate the air.

Megumi was unknowing and unwilling, but now he is much obliged and an enthusiastic victim.

Satoru encompasses him, swallows him whole with hands that are hot brands on his skin, curious, questing lips that leave phantom kisses, and teasing touch of his skin against his, the firm and grounding presence of his body against Megumi's.

Megumi presses his thighs together and feels a familiar ache, passage growing wet, cock hardening as he's stimulated. Calloused, softened hands leave gooseflesh in their wake, his stubble a pleasant roughness against his collarbones, neck, and jaw. 

Megumi gasps, sighs, and moans breathily. 

There's a bated hunger when he touches him, there's a hesitance, his fingers flex, and his hands shake, as if he's unsure of where to start, then it's all-consuming; he tugs him close until he suffocates, as if he wants them to be one. That feeling quickly abates and he calms and his touch becomes purposeful, but the hunger exist beneath a flimsy surface, voracious and unsated.

Megumu buries his fingers in soft white tresses and scrapes his nails through his undercut. 

Satoru's shuddering breath bathes his ear in warmth and he rolls his hips against his thigh. The weight of the alpha's dick is heavy, fueling Megumi's growing ache.

Megumi swallows, and his gut tightens.

Can he cum from this? Is that possible? Scent marking is an intimate act between alpha and omegas, and Satoru turns it into a sensual affair that makes Megumi crave more. 

He wraps his arms around the alpha's shoulders and whispers, "Can we..?"

"Yes," Satoru breathes readily.

His eager response catches Megumi off guard; he laughs, charmed and happy his want is reciprocated. "I thought you said you'd need a day and a night."

"I'm off tomorrow," He pulls Megumi's sleep shirt up, fingers grazing across each inch of newly revealed skin. 

"I'm busy-ah," Megumi gasps when his fingers rake over a pebbled nipple.

Satoru guides his shirt over his head and leaves him in wet boyshorts. "Cancel your plans."

"No, I'm-"

"Make time," he demands, lips trailing his skin. He bites the skin above his scent gland; Megumi instinctively tenses, gripping his forearms. He sucks on it, leaving a mark, a mimicry of a mating bite. 

"Just-ngh," Megumi gasps as he's cupped intimately. Satoru presses two fingers along the hot cleft of his clothed cunt, parting the plump lips, then presses his thumb into the swollen nub of his clit.

Fuck.

He slides his underwear to the side, seeking heated flesh. Megumi can't take it.

"Stop!"

Satoru freezes, "What?"

"Don't stop," Megumi whines, "Just-," He shifts impatiently under him, "You don't have to do that; I'm already there."

"Megumi-"

"Please just," Megumi tugs on his shoulder, urges him to settle between his spread thighs, to cover him, shield him in the quiet of the night. "Just put it in. I'm wet enough."

Brow furrowed, he pulls back to look at him, "Megumi-"

"Please," he implores. Satoru's concern is touching; it shows he's a generous lover, but Megumi doesn't want more foreplay; he wants to be filled.

Satoru observes him with unreadable eyes, and then he nods, "Okay."

Megumi closes his eyes, "Kiss me?"

Satoru obliges.

The moment their lips meld, Megumi opens his mouth and lets the alpha inside. Satoru explores his warm depths, tongues tangling. Megumi wraps his arms around the alpha's neck and kisses back. As they meet in a slick entanglement and heated caresses, the alpha reaches between them and settles between his slick-covered thighs. Then he pushes his panties to the side, and it is flesh on flesh. He glides his dick between swollen folds; Megumi gasps as his cunt is spread open, then he cries out as Satoru rolls his hips and finds his entrance.

The head pops in with a wet squelch. Megumi would be embarrassed if he wasn't bracing himself, heels digging into the futon to find purchase, nails digging into the skin of the alpha's shoulder and forearm. 

Fuck, he's huge.

Seeing it and experiencing it are two different things. Mouth wet, he wraps his legs around his waist. Whimpering and moaning as Satoru fucks a path into his sodden passage. Megumi writhes as each drive of his hips pushes him deeper and leaves Megumi tightening. 

It feels good; it feels so damn good. His hot, humid breath against his jaw and ear, his groans and bitten off curses, the hot brands of his hands as they grip him tightly, and the overwhelming heat of his body against his.

Fuck he needed this.

With three hard thrusts, he finally settles into the hilt. The full penetration leaves Satoru groaning gutturally, but Megumi's inner walls are fluttering, clamping down, rippling with orgasm.

"Already!?" Satoru gasps, finding purchase, pushing in deeper. 

But Megumi is already gone. Eyes rolling back as he's pushed off the precipice, moaning his name.

He told him it wouldn't take much.

Chapter Text

Tears in his lashes, he blinks, overwhelmed.

He tries to regulate his breathing as minute shudders pulse through his body. The lingering high of orgasm ripples through his bones.

It's never been like this.

Limbs heavy, he shifts from where he collapsed and finds the warm presence at his side. Satoru lewdly sucks his fingers as if savoring something particularly delectable. Green meets satisfied blue, and the alpha smirks wolfishly, face smeared in Megumi's slick.

Satoru slowly licks his lips, head tilting back, eyes closed in bliss. He swallows, the muscles of his strong neck bared.

Maybe it's because it's Satoru. He was the first, and it appears that he will be last.

His eyes open, and that single-minded intensity returns. It fills Megumi with dread and anticipation.

"Again." 

"I'm tired-ah!" Megumi squeaks as Satoru fluidly maneuvers Megumi onto his side and takes position at his back. He can't say he didn't expect this; he doesn't know what he has in store, but he eagerly anticipates it despite his mounting fatigue. 

"A day and a night," Satoru reiterates and bites his ear; Megumi feels something hot and searing clench inside of him. "The night has barely begun." He moans when Satoru rolls a pert nipple between dexterous fingers, the sensitive bud swollen from the alpha's previous attentions.

"I can't-"

"You can and you will," Satoru commands and cruelly pinches his nipple. 

Megumi lets out a keening cry. "What-"

"Don't think, just feel," the alpha directs. He traces a familiar path down his side, exploring the dip of his slight waist, caresses the curve of his ass, and squeezes the taunt mound. "I'll take care of you."

Megumi acquiesces; the promise of heat and friction, of bliss and sensory overload, makes him compliant. 

He squirms when feather-light touches travel to his supple thigh and seeks the damp, sensitive skin of its soft inner. Satoru traces mindlessly paths on the skin, inching ever closer to the hot, wet seam of his cunt. His clit aches, his hole twitches, slick and cum oozing from it, ready to ease the passage for the alpha's dick.

But that is not his target. 

"Ngh," Megumi chokes as Satoru wraps his omegan cock in warmth. He helplessly bucks into his hand, shuddering and gasping as he slowly strokes his length.

"How do you like it?" Is Satoru's heady question, thumb circling the wet, sensitive head. 

Dizzying heat crashes into him. 

"T-tighter," He stutters. "G-go slow." 

The alpha leaves his aching cock and dips his fingers into the wet sin of Megumi's cunt, gathering the slick, then sheathes his dick, using his lubricant to pump slow and tight. The pressure and speed leave him moaning breathlessly, fucking into the sheath of his hand.

"That's it, good boy," the alpha coos.

He whimpers; the praise makes his hips hitch and his cunt clench. 

Fuck.

Satoru intuitively follows the bucking of his hips. Increasing his speed, and tightening his grip as Megumi's rhythm begins to falter and his cries become hoarse. 

Orgasm always comes easily, but it's rarely satisfying. This gut-punching, toe-curling, sensory overload is something he's starting to associate with Satoru, and as he expected, it is something he craves. 

"Come for me, Megumi," He murmurs hotly against his ear.

What can he do but obey? 

Megumi cums, it ripples out of him and leaves him keening. His cock empties, and his hole gushes, spraying them with liquid. 

"Damn," Satoru breathes. "We've gotta try that again."

Megumi can hardly reply.

Eyes wet, mouth dry, he can hardly breathe, every inhale pulls in the decadent, sinfully sweet scent of aroused alpha. He barely has the chance to come down; the maddening cocktail leaves him delirious, pulling him back under the alpha's thrall.

Satoru lifts his leg and pushes into his fluttering channel. Megumi gasps; the high of orgasm hasn't left, he's oversensitive, but he's loose, the imprint of Satoru's cock fresh. Aided by the spend coating Megumi's insides, he thrusts home with several easy rolls of his hips. 

"Fuck," Megumi moans, feeling that familiar heat build in his gut, cunt tightening. 

Satoru grunts, reaches between Megumi's legs, and finds his clit, pushing back the hood and working his fingers hard against the engorged nub.

Megumi sobs and cums again. Wailing and shaking as orgasm ripples through him.

Satoru moans brokenly, grinding his hips, pushing in deep as he cums. Pulse after pulse, hot spurts filling Megumi, thick and heavy.

---

There are scratches on his back. Bites marks on his neck, bruises on his shoulders.

The pattern of the minor wounds tells a tale of debauchery.

Megumi blushes. 

"Don't get shy on me now."

Megumi turns an alarming puce and turns around, ignoring Satoru's laughter. 

Shy? He's sitting on a stool, spraying the showerhead onto his swollen vagina, rinsing his slick and the alpha's cum out of him, and watching as it disappears down the drain.

He usually makes his partners wear condoms. Heat is the only exception; he takes his own precautions, but Satoru is different.

"Did you like it?" Comes the teasing question.

Megumi jumps, dropping the shower head.

"Well?" Satoru trails two fingers up his damp spine.

Megumi shivers. 

It was good, so damn good. 

"You know," Megumi clears his throat, voice raspy. "You know I did."

"I'd still like to know," he traces his shoulder blades and then rakes his fingernails down his back. Megumi sighs and arches his back. "I like feedback."

"You want compliments," Megumi says dryly. "Your head is big enough."

"No, I want to know if I'm good enough to replace your box of toys." Megumi closes his eyes; of course, he found it. Megumi went through his things. Why did he expect anything different from him? "I know I'm bigger-"

"Please stop."

"Actually, instead of replacing them, we should use them. Which one is your favorite?"

Megumi groans.

Chapter Text

2006

Kuro does it this time. 

It opens its mouth impossibly wide, reveals a depthless black hole, and swallows the carcass of a curse whole. Megumi turns his head and looks at it from his peripheral. Staring at it directly gives it a piercing headache and causes his nose to bleed. 

"Please stop doing that."

Shiro strips itself of fur and skin, becoming a moving lupine figure of anatomy—muscles, fat, and connective tissues, and rubs itself against his legs.

Megumi closes his eyes and shudders. He reminds himself that they are an extension of himself, not some aberrant horror seeking to torment him. Any signs of personality they display mirror their animal counterparts and their wielder.

"That's freaky."

He thought he avoided a potential headache, he thought wrong.

"You can perceive my technique; there's nothing surprising about it," He says dully. Then he grins when Kuro presses its nose into his belly. Megumi scratches behind its ear, and the shikigami turns and licks his hand. It rarely shows affection, the more serious of the pair, vigilant and guarded, whereas Shiro is playful and outgoing. 

"Well, duh, it's what you do with your technique. You're unpredictable." 

Megumi takes pride in that. 

As much as he experiments, it is rarely for combat purposes; instead, it is a consequence of it. If it had potential and was useful, Megumi wielded it in defense and offense, but most of his discoveries were simply for the love of jujutsu.

However, having that recognized by Gojo is hardly an achievement.

"Can't Six Eyes predict the future?" Megumi asks mockingly.

He's reluctantly become accustomed to his presence.

Megumi accepts even the most minuscule missions. It gives him the opportunity to explore his technique, experiment, and put theories to the test. Gojo Satoru exploits this; Megumi is a second-ranked sorcerer; special-grade sorcerers are wasted on these types of missions, but in the chain of command, they are captains; Gojo designates himself as his superior. 

It's annoying.

At first, he thought of cloaking himself in sheep's clothing and overthrowing this scheme. If Gojo Satoru can throw his weight around, why can't Megumi? Then he remembers, they are not the same.

They are not the same.

Megumi doesn't have any interest in the political quagmires and intricately woven webs of deception and intrigue. He's far from ignorant, he can't afford to be, but he makes his position clear, he is an innovator in jujutsu. 

Bothering his uncle, rousing the interest of his relatives, and causing probable issues with the Gojo over petty squabbles aren't on the agenda. The Kyoto incident has given him enough notoriety; he'll deal with Gojo in his own way.

"I don't have foreknowledge, more like percipience."

"Interesting," Megumi is anything but interested. "Stop!" He shouts at Mourning Tiger, "That's not your's."

The remains of curses are finite; when they are slain, they become a feast for his carnivorous shikigami. Half are consumed intravenously; the deep, dark, and lovely shadows become corrosive and mimic digestive enzymes. They all get their fair share, but some are gluttonous. 

Mourning Tiger snarls and then bursts into flames, a roaring inferno that marks its protest. 

Megumi frowns, that's hazardous.

"Stop that!" He rebukes it, and the overgrown cat bares its teeth, hackle raised, and hisses.

He banishes it to the ether with an imperious wave of his arm, and it disperses into grainy whisps of smoke. 

"You really don't like me."

The statement catches Megumi off guard; at his feet, Rabbit Escape multiples and thumps.

Megumi smoothly segues out of Gojo's reach. The alpha has developed a terrible habit of touching things that are not his. Whatever liberties he's used to taking with others are not accepted nor reciprocated by Megumi.

"I wouldn't say that," Megumi says slowly and bends down to pick up the rabbit shikigami so he can avoid facing the alpha as he lies to him and himself. "I'm indifferent." 

"That's worse," Gojo says mirthlessly.

Megumi doesn't know what he wants from him.

Friendship?

His overtures are too possessive and entitled.

Something else?

Megumi dare not entertain such thoughts. He wants to avoid the alpha, become the casual, but indifferent admirer he once was. He wants to break these shackles that chain him to feelings that are better off left unsaid.

Gojo is in love with his best friend; Megumi is a passing fancy for an alpha who is unused to hearing no.

"I don't know what to tell you," Megumi makes the mistake of looking at the alpha.

As beautiful as his facade is, the first thing people are drawn to are his eyes. The eyes are the window to the soul, and Six Eyes mark Gojo as otherworldly, but they are the most human aspect of him.

He is forlorn. 

Megumi is a bleeding heart, he is also sweet on the alpha. He extends an olive branch. "Have you seen the new PlayStation?"

Gojo brightens. 

Chapter Text

Megumi is blurry-eyed and exhausted.

Satoru is bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.

"So?"

Megumi manages to lift his head from his crossed arms and croaks, "What?"

Damn, he's sore, but it's the satisfying kind; he's free of tension and stress. His limbs are relaxed, and a pleasant ache radiates from between his legs.

But damn, he's tired.

"What are we doing today?" 

Today? What day? It's late afternoon. His day of productivity is gone; he doesn't regret it. He has several missed calls, unread texts and emails that need his attention, but he can't bring himself to care. 

He yawns, "Eating then sleeping."

Satoru's shit-eating grin barely annoys him; in fact, it sparks fondness. "We'll have to work on your stamina. You had a hard time keeping up."

That is an understatement.

That kind of stamina should be reserved for heat and rut. That refractory period should remain in their breeding seasons. Megumi might be touch-starved, but he didn't expect the alpha's voracious appetite. He wanted to end his dry spell, and his wish was fulfilled. 

Megumi places his chin on his palm and regards him with half-lidded eyes, "How would we do that?"

His grin becomes downright debauched, "Thorough practice." 

"I fear I won't be able to keep up," Megumi bemoans half-heartedly.

"Practice makes perfect," Satoru licks his lips; Megumi follows the motion with rapt eyes. "I promise you'll come to enjoy it,"  He leans over the counter, and Megumi finds himself drawn by the need to be closer. He thinks he might kiss him."You might even crave it."

Too late, he's addicted.

"Say less." 

Satoru laughs, low and throaty, and opens his mouth to respond when his mobile vibrates. 

It's his personal phone.

He usually puts it on do not disturb with an exception list for calls and texts.

He ignores it, but the mood is somewhat ruined. 

"What was I saying?"

Megumi salvages what is left of it. 

"You were talking me out of my panties," He supplies primly.

Satoru easily falls back into their teasing banter. "Was I succeeding?"

Megumi raises a brow, "Keep talking, and we'll see."

"You like it when I talk you through it, don't you?"

Megumi blushes but admits that he does. 

"Do you now?" Satoru reaches out and holds out his hand palm up, beckoning him to offer his in return. Megumi indulges him, and the alpha traces the lines on his palm. "What else do you like?"

Ruinous red glows and suffuses him in positive energy. He etches words into the palm of his skin: green, keep you, want, wife, lover, heart-

Megumi swallows, "What is there not to like?"

The alpha tsk, "Me-gu-mi, that's not-"

This time, the phone rings.

Satoru utters an oath and rolls his eyes. Then he reaches for his mobile and checks the screen, and this time his features set into stone. 

Megumi blinks and wonders who could have garnered that reaction. "Are you okay?"

"I need to take this."

Megumi blinks again and then shrugs, "Okay."

However, Satoru is apologetic, "If I have to leave, I'll make it up to you."

"You don't have-"

"I want to," Satoru says firmly, "these days are for us. They should know better."

While he was ready to be coaxed back into bed, or bent over the kitchen counter, now he's curious and wants to know who interrupted them.

"Who is it?" 

"Family," The word is said with so much disgust Megumi lets out a startled laugh.

"I'm starting to think the Gojo are as bad as the Zen'in."

"These are actually family members I like," Satoriu says in exasperation and acute repugnance. 

Megumi remembers what it's like to want the alpha's good opinion. When he was young and a fool, it seemed like an impossible endeavor. Now, as an adult and the center of his attention, he has a new perspective.

"What's wrong?" He asks before he can think twice.

Satoru tilts his head. "I promised to keep us separate from the Gojo clan. Are you sure you want to know?"

"These are people you like, I don't mind hearing about them or listening to your problems if you need a sounding board," Megumi offers and feels his face grow hot when Satoru's expression becomes soft, and a gentle smile curls his lips.

"That's sweet. Does Megumi-chan like me?~"

"I tolerate you," Megumi says flustered, "Now tell me what's wrong."

"And spoil the mood?" Satoru teases.

"Yes!" Megumi insists.

"Boooo!" 

"Are you gonna tell me or not?" Megumi questions impatiently.

Satoru sighs sulkily, "Ugh, I don't want to talk about them. They spoil my fun."

Megumi doesn't want to push, Satoru's antipathy towards his family is a known fact. He might be curious, but he won't cross a boundary. "We don't have to," He offers as an out. 

Satoru sighs again and rubs his neck, "I know we don't, but this also concerns you. Yuuta is pregnant."

Megumi's eyes widen and his mouth parts in shock. "Does Maki know?"

Satoru frowns, his disappointment poignant. "She might not be the sire."

Megumi is left stunned.

Chapter Text

Megumi ♡ (ɔˆз(ˆ⌣ˆc): October or November?

Me: October!

Me: What's the occasion?

Megumi ♡ (ɔˆз(ˆ⌣ˆc): Wedding.

Megumi ♡ (ɔˆз(ˆ⌣ˆc): I was thinking of something non-traditional.

Me: A party venue? 

Megumi ♡ (ɔˆз(ˆ⌣ˆc): A nice restaurant. Maybe we can rent it out?

Megumi tends to stretch himself thin, give himself unneeded stress, and put the cart before the horse. 

Satoru supposes he is the omega's confidant and steps in to change his perspective or nudge in the right direction.

Me: What happened to the wedding planner?

Megumi ♡ (ɔˆз(ˆ⌣ˆc): pointless. 

He waits for a response, but Megumi does not explicate.

Me: Why?

Megumi ♡ (ɔˆз(ˆ⌣ˆc): I think we should have the ceremony on both family shrines. We'll keep it short and only invite our parents. 

Me: Will the wards let me pass? 

Megumi ♡ (ɔˆз(ˆ⌣ˆc): Yeah, I can change them, but I'll have to talk to my uncle.

Me: You'll have to invite him as well.

Megumi ♡ (ɔˆз(ˆ⌣ˆc): I planned to.

Me: Does he know?

Megumi ♡ (ɔˆз(ˆ⌣ˆc): Nope, i.e. the subterfuge. He'll know the day of.

Satoru laughs, he cant wait to see Zen'in Jinichi's apoplectic face. 

Me: Naughty, naughty Megumi.

Megumi ♡ (ɔˆз(ˆ⌣ˆc): I aim to please.

Megumi ♡ (ɔˆз(ˆ⌣ˆc): also, we're supposed to go grocery shopping at 3, but can we go at 4? I need to finish hanging up our laundry.

Me: Sure.

He looks up from his mobile and then around.

What was he doing? 

Oh yeah, decorating. 

Megumi was right, but it's still a surprise.

It's paltry compared to the thought and planning Megumi puts into their little family. Satoru thought he was a future planner; it was what he did for a living, but he didn't think of these details; they were vague, left at the back of his mind to be addressed at a later time, reserved for discussion with a partner. 

He figures he can return the gesture, Megumi thought of a dedicated office for him, Satoru decides it can be a shared space. A stay-at-home wife is still a working role, the inclusion of future children will add to that workload. It will be a joint effort, but most of the burden will fall on Megumi. The least he can do is provide him with a space to organize appointments, schedules, household tasks, and manage kids' activities. Separate work from personal. 

Satoru opens the box labeled office/desk/miscellaneous. 

He pulls out several books, recalling the order they were placed and duplicating them in the bookcase reserved for Megumi's collections.

The next book is different; he feels the cold press of metal and glances down curiously. It's a spiral-bound notebook; no, it's a sketchbook.

He flips it open and turns through the pages. The progress in growth is significant with each page turned. He looks down and finds several more sketchbooks.

He didn't know Megumi could draw.

He picks up the newer sketchbook and checks the date on the last page.

Six years ago.

He sits down and goes through each one.

The style fluctuations from grim to whimsical. The subjects and medium vary but stirred towards fantasy. Megumi has a vivid imagination, and it's obvious that his shikigami influenced his drawing style.  

That explains the tattoo; he didn't know he was this talented, but then again, Megumi was always unpredictable in the most unlikely of ways. 

The Megumi of now is different from the Megumi of the past. The piercings, the smudged eyeliner and mascara, the chapstick, and painted nail polish are echoes of yesteryear, but remnants of that boy linger.

From his still-pierced belly button to the scar on the back of his calf and to the constellation of moles on his back.

But his hips have widened, he spent hours tracing the intricate ink etched on his skin, spanning his right thigh, hip, and lower back. His tits cute little handfuls that fit the center of his palms, his belly a bit more pudgier but his waist is smaller and Satoru can nearly encompasses it with both hands. 

He grew in height, became more discerning but still possessed a bleeding heart that was eager to help, to please, to ease the plight of those held dear and even in reproach. 

Megumi was always beguiling, a temptation he had a hard time ignoring. Megumi was everything he wanted, but choosing him would mean the end of his autonomy. At least it did then; now he has him and never plans to let the omega go.

Satoru is quite certain he loves him, always has. 

Megumi's feelings on the matter remain to be seen.

Chapter Text

2006

Megumi cautiously opens up.

It's a terrible idea, but he appears to be a glutton for punishment.

He sets boundaries for himself and Gojo. 

(They don't work.)

"That's new," He points to the septum piercing. "Is it for aesthetics or rebellion?"

"Can't it be both?" Megumi questions back with an air of nonchalance. 

"A rebel without a cause?" 

"Spite," Megumi replies simply.

"To whom? Your parents? Clan?" He asks playfully. 

"The establishment," Megumi deadpans.

It's a joke, a segue to greener pastures, a deflection from a deeper explanation Megumi doesn't want to discuss, and Gojo is amused but won't let the subject go. 

He prods, examines, and looks at it from several points of view. "Your uncle is considered progressive; that's... incensed more than a few people. Let me guess, he doesn't care; Zen'in Jinichi isn't the type to kick up a fuss over something trivial; he's apathetic and serious and probably has the usual expectations of his heir," He speculates aloud. Always curious, always excavating, searching for a deeper meaning beyond face value. Megumi's demeanor grows chillier with every word uttered. "The clan elders and advisors are different, though. You're unprecedented, and the Zen'in are elitist pricks; they'd never follow their cohort's examples despite your uncle's mandate. So, do they ask you to dress more masculinely? Act like an alpha? Forsake your potential motherhood? Is that why you choose to ruin what they consider your greatest asset?" He gestures vaguely to the omega's face.

"No, it just happened that way," Megumi says cooly, contempt threatening to curl his lips into a snarl.

"Eh? Don't be mad," He says, nonplussed by his response. 

"What reaction did you expect?" Megumi's condemnation drips with each word spoken. "I know you're not socially challenged or stupid; why would you insult me?"

"It's not an insult; it's a conjecture," Gojo says loftily. "And judging by your reaction, it's probably the truth or close to it." 

"No one asked for it," Megumi says sharply, green eyes chips of ice. "Why are you saying this to me?"

"Because you get it, and I expect you to be able to handle it. You and I are cut from the same cloth. Nothing I say to you is new because you already know it," Gojo responds calmly. 

"You're skipping several levels; you're not privy to my family drama until friendship level 8. Back off," Megumi demands.

"I really struck a nerve," Gojo says contemplatively, tranquil in the face of his disapprobation. "You're the Zen'in heir; what I say is child's play compared to what you hear and experience." He taps his lips and hums, "Why does it bother you if you hear it from me?"

"Because it's intrusive," Megumi stops, makes a noise of frustration, and stands. "This is a terrible idea. It's one step forward, then three steps back with you. I give up." 

He turns on his heel to leave, but Gojo stops him, gripping his forearm and pinning him with unreadable eyes.

"Why do you indulge me?"

"Why do you seek me out?" Megumi questions back. 

"People like you are hard to come by."

His explanation is anything but enlightening. 

Megumi deliberates, closes his eyes, and decides it's a terrible idea. 

He answers, "I don't plan on inheriting. I'm a placeholder."

"But if you wanted it, what would you do?" 

"Take the route of the least bloodshed," Megumi has no interest in leading, but if he did, before his rise, he would kill his opposition, secure his power base, install people he can trust in positions of power-

"That look," Gojo interrupts his train of thought. "Tell me what you're really thinking."

Megumi opens and closes his mouth, then he slowly reveals the lessons he learned at his parents' knees and reframed with context at his uncle's instruction. 

Chapter Text

2006

Toji crosses the barrier, and it sparks with recognition. Toji steps foot on ancestral land, and it welcomes him like an old friend. 

It's a living thing. Ancient and imbued with the miasma of relics that once walked this earth, but linger in this world and the next. It washes over him, surrounds him, and anoints him. 

Its efforts are wasted.

He is vaguely aware of a presence, which raises his hackles and causes gooseflesh. A keen sense of foreboding and awe.

Toji categorizes it as bothersome, exits the car, and regards his awaiting audience with amused contempt.

If Toji had his way, he would not walk these hallowed halls. In fact, he would take a shit and urine on every surface. 

However, duty calls.

"Aniki."

"Otouto."

"Let's get this over with." Toji's less-than-enthusiastic response causes affront. An elder huffs, another glares, and the other watches him with barely concealed disgust. 

It's a good thing their opinions do not matter. They are ornaments, their titles are empty, and any merit they may have once held was stripped upon Jinichi's ascension. 

Toji wonders if he keeps them around for tradition and perception or just to mock them, dangling the influence they once had over their heads.

"Have you told Megumi?" He asks, dismissing their presence.

Zen'in Jinichi acts as Megumi in loco parentis, but there are some decisions even he cannot make. Some that require the permission of the living parent, the sire.

"No, he would say yes just to access their clan archives."

Toji smirks.

"He would, but only if the groom doesn't irritate him."

He is familiar with these antiquated arrangements, and though he spurned them, the Fushiguro still upheld these traditions now guised as business alliances or political liaisons.

"Whose the family this time?" He asks.

"The Gojo."

Jninchi is not an emotive man, but his eyebrows raise in disbelief and astonishment echoes in his voice. 

"Megumi!"

Gokon are stupid, but Naoya is determined to get the stick out of his ass and Megumi is compelled to help him out of a sense of loyalty.

Naoya attends a feeder school for Kyodai, his intellect honed by their shrewd and perspicacious clan head. Naoya is made into a loyal asset to further Zen'in Jinichi's machinations and enrich the Zen'in.

His intelligence is his greatest asset, but also his mortal enemy. Zen'in Naoya has a hard time connecting with people; he prefers books to socializing and finds most people to be terribly insipid.

He's not without friends. He knows he's not the smartest person in the room, but when he sets ego and pride aside, he makes friends.

Now he wanted a girlfriend, perhaps even a boyfriend.

He recruits Megumi.

According to him, his friends look like squids, but he is the exception, and as his cousin, so is Megumi.

A pretty face is like nectar and fresh blossoms; it attracts bees and pests.

Megumi is meant to be a diversion. Naoya's friends are just as socially awkward as he is, but at least the alpha has manners, personality, and charisma when he steps out of his shell. Megumi will be play distraction, mitigate the idiocy of Naoya's friends, and run interference if they try to ruin the alpha's chances of scoring a second date.

"Naoya," He greets, lips quirked. "How are you?"

"I'm well." He is not, his eyes widened a fraction before answering, and there's a slight tremble to his hands that speaks of nerves. "I'm looking forward to this."

He's dressed fashionably and well-groomed. His natural ombre hair will be a great talking point, and his choice of clothes will draw the intrepid eye. 

"How are you?"

"Hungry," He says, then to distract the alpha, he adds. "I'm craving pizza. Do you think they'll sell us beer?"

Naoya is appalled, "No, this place is reputable!"

That's the reaction he was hoping for. "I can't sing without liquid courage."

"I'll sing with you!"

Even better, that will be his selling point. Naoya has a beautiful singing voice, and karaoke is one of his favorite pastimes. 

"I'm counting on you, or else I'll look like an ass." His reverse psychology is rudimentary at best, but it appears to work.

"I won't let you down!"

Naoya is pumped.

Chapter Text

2006

He was fourteen when he attended his first gokon.

It was a curious affair.

He had just presented, fresh from his first heat and ripe for the picking. One of his friends was similar, but she was not like them; she had an alpha.

He was significantly older.

These types of dynamics were once common, typically involving arrangements made between parents and suitors, and were more prevalent in rural areas or occasionally among affluent families. However, in this day and age, where information is more readily available, laws protect the more vulnerable, but the age of consent is thirteen; scruples and morality become dubious subjects. These kinds of dynamics draw a gimlet eye.

So when Megumi attends his first gokon, the suitors do not match their cohort. It's a singular sight that made the waiter do a double-take and left Megumi speechless in more ways than one.

He was not naive, at least he didn't think he was, but sitting across from him was an alpha well over a decade older, speaking in honeyed, condescending tones, gave him a glimpse of the depths of deviance some people will sink to. His parents did not shield him from life's harsh realities; they witnessed many grievous crimes and committed some of them.

Megumi did not engage; he sat back and observed. 

Would he succumb to that kind of power dynamic? There's a seductive quality to it, knowing he is the object of desire, but is it because he is a young, virginal, and impressionable omega, or is it for him, just plain, off-beat, Megumi? Could he endure that kind of relationship? He's not wet behind the ears, but wisdom is gained through experience. What circumstances or scenarios could lead to such a position, he knows not, so he cannot judge.

There was no moral high ground there; Megumi removed himself and ended that friendship.

The group dates that followed were strategically vetted, his attendance dependent on the reason, people, and location. Bribes were accepted and open for negotiation.   

This goken is different.

In more ways than one.

Naoya loves city pop and isn't ashamed to cover songs that demonstrate his range. Megumi plays the role of the avid cheerleader, clapping along with the beat, shouting the chorus with the group, and cheering when he hits specific notes and reaches iconic parts of the song.

Across from him, dark eyes watch.

He's aware of them.

Megumi was polite but not overtly friendly; he did engage more than necessary, aware that he garnered more than enough attention. His aloof demeanor marked him as unfriendly, but it was really the act of an introvert forced to be extroverted.

Nonetheless, his enthusiastic support of Naoya has renewed interest. 

"I didn't know he was this good," His admirer tells him when the cacophony of their cheers has tapered off, but conversations are still abundant and loud.

"Really? He didn't gloat?" Megumi replies.

"Well, yeah, he did, but you know how he is," Megumi wonders if he's attempting to subtly insult Naoya. That won't work on him.

"A braggart?" Megumi inquires archly. "Talks a big game, but doesn't deliver?"

"No," His admirer doesn't rise to the bait, "He delivers, but he's a smug son of a bitch about it."

Megumi snorts, "He's humble, he's the humblest man I know."

"Is that family loyalty speaking?" His admirer asks in dubious amusement.

"No, a wingman on duty," Megumi salutes.

His admirer laughs. He's cute, all dark, slate eyes, partially dyed blond hair, a pretty smile, white, straight teeth, alpha, and lanky.

He's Megumi's style, but not necessarily his type. 

"I think it's working." His admirer subtly gestures to Naoya's captured the crowd and raving fans. "I think he likes her." He juts his chin in the direction of a pretty, blushing beta. 

That's nice, but Megumi is keen is the alpha that caught Naoya's eye. "You're unfortunately wrong. He likes him." 

"Who?" 

"The mop of permed hair," Megumi replies.

"Really!?" His admirer is all astonishment. 

"Aa, Naoya is fluid," Megumi relays.

"I could have sworn he'd go for the cute and soft type."

"He does. If he's smart, he'll get both their contact info," Megumi says.

"What about you?" His admirer pivots and regards him with warm, slate eyes.

Megumi's lips twitch. "What about me?"

"Are you looking for someone, or are you just a wingman?"

Megumi harbors an ill-fated crush, it's nursed by strange encounters, a little flame that needs to be smothered. 

Gojo won't tolerate the silent treatment or evasive maneuvers, but Megumi can forget all romantic feelings by immersing himself in someone else. 

"That depends."

"On what?" His admirer says in slight anticipation. 

Megumi smiles, enigmatic, a Mona Lisa smile.

Full of secrets; full of wiles.

His admirer leans in, captured, intrigued.

"On how well you sing," is his answer. "Serenade me, Higuruma Hisashi."

Chapter Text

2006

"The Gojo?" Suguru's dam says skeptically. "We've never heard of them."

"Then our lawyers have exceeded our expectations," Satoru says amiably, "That's intended."

Suguru's sire and dam share meaningful glances.

"What does your father do, Gojo-kun?"

Suguru's parents are ordinary civilians, a housewife and a salaryman. 

Painfully ordinary.

It's hard to think these are two people produced Suguru.

An omega born from two betas, what a blessing, what a curse. He wonders if they celebrated or cursed their luck.

An omega, the possibilities veer in two directions, but a male omega muddles those plans.

A female omega is easier, cloak her in wool, and she can pass as a beta. She fits the archetype; she is malleable, more likely to marry the alpha her parents present her, settle down, become a housewife, and have two or three grandchildren. 

A male omega... well, they were once considered rarities, playthings for the elite, certainly not suitable as wife material.

Perhaps they thought that sending him to a prestigious, religious private boarding school, he would attach himself to a distinguished name, the nouveau riche would find diverting. 

He would rectify the mistake of being born an omega instead of a son. 

It's quite obvious they wanted a son.

They got one, just not the one they wanted.

It explains the distance between parent and child. Suguru's stark change in demeanor, this meekness that cloaks him in sheep's clothing, that hides the sheer magnitude of his personality. Suguru is a shadow of himself in front of people who should have 

He hates it, and he wonders if Suguru knows he's trading one trap for another.

Life with his family will not be much better, but he and Suguru will make new rules and set the standards for their life. 

"He's a data scientist."

"Do you plan to follow in his footsteps? Perhaps take over the family business?"

These questions are expected. Prying, grasping, and vulgar hidden beneath polite banalities. Satoru is accustomed to this; it never changes, it's ubiquitous, appearing in varying forms.

"Probably something field adjacent, and yes, I'll work with him in the family business."

"And what exactly is the family business?" Suguru's sire asks bluntly.

Next to him, Suguru winces. Satoru wants to reach out and squeeze his arm, knot his fingers through his and reassure him, but refrains.

He needs to remain cordial and polite. 

"Private equity firm." That is the best answer, succinct and to the point. 

The Gojo have many avenues of revenue and interests. None of them are idle, and all contribute to the family's prosperity. 

However, that doesn't matter; the response he gave is the one they sought.

Suguru's parents share a brief, gleeful glance, and his dam's countenance changes, and his sire's stern demeanor settles into neutrality.

In the end, it is all the same.

"When can we meet your parents?"

"Father is abroad, but my grandparents are available. They'd like to meet Suguru first."

It's tradition, but it's altered to fit Suguru's civilian background. 

It's a step to cement a formal courtship. 

---

Nobara vibrates in her seat. She stands up and paces. Then she brings her hands and shakes them out.

"Why aren't you nervous!?"

Megumi shrugs elegantly and smiles faintly. "I am; he's meeting my best friend, but you're handling the anxiety for us both." 

"I can't help it! I've never been in this role! Do I interrogate him, read the riot act, ask him intentions, threaten him!?"

"No, just be yourself. He wants your approval. It's important to me that you like him," Megumi sincerely assauages.

Nobara blinks several times as if overcome with emotion, and covers her mouth with her fist. She sniffs and then shouts, "Damn you, Fushiguro Megumi, damn you! Now I want to cry! Where's Shoko?"

Megumi laughs, "Call her, she wanted to take the train, but we can meet her halfway."

"Oh! That works. I need moral support. This is gonna be the best double-date-" 

The door opens, and Suguru walks in. He wears a sheepish expression, but appears excited. 

"Eh? Suguru? What are you doing here?"

(He's welcome, they've spent time in his space, shared his nest. It's the others that are interlopers.)

The door is slammed open to reveal the rest of his party. 

Shoko is respectful; she is solicitous of an omega's sanctuary. It is the bastard she calls a friend who is not.

(Shoko appears chagrined, her friends have a pattern of encroaching. The goddamn losers.)

"I heard you're going on a double-date." There's a gleam to his eyes, an edge to his voice, and his smile sports too many teeth. Signs of impending doom. "Do you mind making it a triple-date?"

Nobara gasps, "You're dating?"

Suguru blushes prettily, "It's not official, it's-"

"The foundation was laid, don't sell us short, Suguru! We're gonna be together forever like we always wanted!" His gaze never strays from Megumi. Each word a pointed, palpable blow. 

"Satoru!" He whispers-shouts, embarrassed.

To Megumi, it's an out-of-body experience. 

Chapter Text

2006

"Congrats," he says through numb lips.

He has no right to feel this way.

He knew.

He knew.

Megumi swallows the bile, blinks away tears, fights the burn in his throat, the burn in his eyes, and the churning in his gut.

He knew.

Megumi divorces himself from emotion and dons a friendly smile and affably agrees, "The more the merrier. Hisashi-kun made reservations for four, but we have a few hours before we meet. I'm sure we can find something wandering the city."

His voice is steady, his tone even, his expression a study in apathy despite his sphinx-like smile.

Whatever response Gojo sought with his declaration, he will not find it here.

"Is that his name?" Suguru inquires, eager for the spotlight to change. 

Megumi grants it, segueing the conversation. 

"Hn. Higuruma Hisashi, he's a friend of Naoya."

"So that's how you met him. At least he's partially vetted. What's he like? Is he cute?"

He's a breath of fresh air, there's a sense of ease when they talk, there's rarely a dull moment, and when it's quiet, it's companionable.

It's easy.

It's as easy as breathing.

But Megumi yearns for that sense of dread and anticipation, that quiet rapture, that cheerful oblivion, that ominous promise, those moments that teeter on the edge of glory-

It's enough, he makes it enough.

"He's sweet and he's cute-"

"Megumi, don't play coy," Nobara interrupts. "He's hot! When he calls or texts, Megumi giggles and smiles like an elementary kid with their first crush!"

Megumi's glare is lethal. "I'm gonna kill you."

"Sure, sure," Nobara says dismissively. "Show him the pictures first. But," She turns on her heel and faces Shoko and Gojo, "You two can leave. Shoko, my room is open to you. Bright Eyes can get lost."

"Boooo!"

"No alphas allowed!"

"I'm not in the room!"

"Your foot is in the doorway!"

"No, it's not!"

"Move Satoru!" Shoko shouts.

"No! I'm not in the room."

"You're in my way!"

"Are you two ganging up on me!?"

Nobara tries to close the door, but the sphere of Infinity blocks it.

"Get out!"

"Move!"

"No!"

Megumi pulls out his mobile, finds a decent pic, and hands it to Suguru.

Those vulpine eyes open, "Oh, Nobara's right-"

"Of course I am!" Nobara interjects

"-He's good-looking!"

"Let me see!"

Several things happen at once. 

The door slams closed, and Nobara slams into it. Gojo teleports and appears behind Suguru, carrying the scent of ozone. He enters Megumi's sanctuary without a care in the world. Megumi fights his instinctual snarl, but he cannot stop the shadows in the room from lengthening. 

Gojo is unfazed. In fact, he grins, it's cruel and full of mirth. 

"Satoru! What the hell-"

The alpha grabs the phone from Suguru's hands and studies the screen.

"Eh, he's all right, definitely not as good looking as me!"

"This isn't about you, you moron!" Suguru tries to snatch the mobile back, but Gojo holds it out of reach.

"It's the truth!" He sticks out his tongue.

"And so is your stupidity!"

"Suguru! Take that back!" The alpha whines. 

Megumi has had enough, the room abruptly blacks out. 

"Get out," He quietly seethes, "all of you."

---

Megumi's skin feels too tight for his body.

He ripped apart his dorm room, cleaned the space, washed his sheets, plushies, and the articles of clothing he received from friends and family. He'll return the clothing and ask for replacements. 

Angst coats his skin, leaving him restless. 

His day is ruined.

He barely acknowledges his friends, Nobara stirs the others out of his way and away from him. He's on a warpath as he tries to get rid of the frenetic energy that's taken hold of him.

He is wroth.

Gojo does as he pleases with little regard for others. He is capricious; Megumi knows this, he knows this, but this flagrant disregard for decorum and sense appalls him and makes him sick.

The alpha isn't unaware of omegan habits and predilections; his sire is an omega. He purposefully spat on them in some crusade of contempt. 

Gojo could not have his jealousy, but he certainly has his wrath.

Megumi is the dark cloud on their otherwise sunny day. He is the bad omen that hovers over them. He does not care but cannot bring himself to cancel the day's plans.

He texts Hisashi, informing him of their extra guests. The alpha calls, but Megumi does not answer. He doesn't want him to hear distress and acute resentment in his voice. 

The alpha is accepting of his explanation and selective silence and offers an alternative to their initial plans.

"Ready, Megumi?" 

Megumi nods sharply. Words fail him. If he speaks, he will utter words of fire and poison.

"Close your eyes," Nobara directs. She is acquainted with this mode of transportation; she has been there from its infancy and has seen it improve in leaps and bounds.

The shadows rise in a wave and swallow them whole, pulling them into their inky depths.

When they arrive, it's in the shadow of a building. Megumi is already walking ahead, searching for a familiar face in a crowd of strangers.

He sees them, and his anger is mitigated.

He waves.

For there is Naoya, the alpha he fancies, and Higuruma Hisashi.

"Hi, Megumi," His admirer says warmly.

He could kiss him.

He does, ignoring his cousin's sputtering, Nobara's catcalling, Suguru's whistling, and meets glacial blue eyes with Scheele's green.

Chapter Text

"Hi Megumi, it's been a while. "

"Hi Dr. Saruta."

"How are you?"

Megumi leans back onto the couch and sighs deeply, "Conflicted."

"Oh? Talk to me."

---

2006

In the summers, the Zen'in play a precarious game.

In the summers, the Zen'in liaison with the Ryukyuan Movement as contractors and help them combat the influx of scourge. 

In the summers, the Zen'in walk a tight rope protecting their public and private interests.

The Jujutsu government does not recognize the Ryukyuan Movement as a sovereign entity; their alliance is tenuous, and their relations are nonexistent. The Ryukyuan Movement prefers hiring contractors and allying with the Zen'in and other clans. 

Megumi requests to have his name removed from the active duty roster. Megumi has obligations to his family, and though interclan politics influence the administration, the administration's influence over the Gosanke is separated by a fine line. More often than not, their interests overlap, but Megumi is heir; his obligation to his clan supersedes his duty to his school and government. Unless specifically requested and in the capacity of a contractor, Megumi is officially a member of the Hei. 

Despite the heat and grueling humidity, the prospect of attending monthly raids and weekly patrols during the summer and holidays on the beaches of the Nasei Islands is more appealing than being suffocated by the confines of school and haunted by a mercurial alpha with a god complex.

Megumi is safe amongst familiy and untouchable on ancestral lands.

"You want to take on more responsibilities?"

It's a feast for carnivores.

Nue shocks the skittering creatures in their paths, leaving smoking carcasses in its wake. Shiro sinks its teeth into charred flesh and Kuro bites down into an appendage; between them, they rip the twitching curse apart. Nue circles back, powerful claws grabbing its spoils of the hunt, ready to join its brethren in the feast.

Megumi wipes the sweat from his brow. This is light work.

Megumi shakes his head, "I want to learn more."

"Learning entails first-hand experience. You haven't shown interest in family affairs in months," Jinichi-oji-san frowns. "What changed?"

It's rare for his uncle to join these missions, but then again, this is when he can see how well his elite guard executes assignments. It's also an excuse to see Megumi's progress and the innovative ways he uses his curse technique.

"What are you talking about? I've been training with the Hei and shadowing you when I get the spare time," Megumi says distractedly, his eyes narrow, and he stabs an escape artist. Nothing is getting past him or his shikigami.

"You play that blasted contraption in meetings with investors and business associates. You read while consulting the elders and advisors. Then you pull ridiculous stunts and come up with inane excuses when we speak to allies, friends, and acquaintances." 

"But I can still summarize every one of those meetings, some of them could be emails," Megumi says meaningfully, "they're wasting your time. The others like to hear themselves speak. And those so-called allies, family friends and acquaintances," Megumi says with disdain, "just want to foist their son, daughter, niece, nephew or cousin on me in the hope of a marriage." Megumi pauses and eyes Jinichi-oji-san suspiciously, "Are you in on that? Are you trying to marry me off?"

"No," Jinichi-oji-san replies, affronted. "Your mother would kill me."

"Not Dad? That's Dad-like."

"Your father would watch with sake, edamame, kamaboko, and shishamo."

Megumi nods thoughtfully, "That also sounds like Dad. Mum isn't the type to get their hands dirty. They'd poison you."

Jinichi-oji-san glares, "Little shit."

Megumi huffs, "Blah, blah, blah."

"Watch your mouth."

Megumi rolls his eyes.

---

2023

"So he stalked you?" Dr. Saruta inquires.

"I suppose so," Megumi isn't unaware of Satoru's abhorrent and borderline controlling behavior. He was a product of his environment, and something about him reduced the alpha to base behaviors. Satoru was spoiled, possessive, and entitled. "But I think I liked the attention. An alpha like him, chasing after me!? I could never imagine it. And I liked him, but I wouldn't cross that line with Suguru in the picture. I valued my friendship with him too much to allow an alpha to get in the way. I think that was the only way to get the attention I craved from him." Megumi smiles wryly, "I was a glutton for punishment."

"Did you ever tell him to leave you alone?"

"Of course," Megumi answers. "I wasn't afraid to fight an alpha, and it came to blows once or twice."

"What about words?"

Megumi hums in contemplation, "Words went in one ear, then out the other. He heard what he wanted to hear, and when he did listen, he retaliated. Like when he got engaged."

"Engaged? At sixteen?" Dr. Saruta can't quite hide her incredulousness.

"You have to understand, these are not regular families," Megumi explains. "Yeah, they're former nobility, but they go back further than that. Both of our families can trace their ancestry back to the Heian period. When I say 'elite,' they're not people you can look up and find information about. My surname might be recognizable because my cousins are public servants, but other than that, you'll find the web scrubbed of information."

"That's not legal," Dr. Saruta.

"There are loopholes in every legality," Megumi shrugs. "So Satoru's engagement was surprising, but it wasn't an engagement, at least not yet. They were formally courting, and as long as their parents approved and they consented, they had blanket approval to be mated."

"I can't help but notice, you're saying his given name now."

Megumi smiles self-deprecatingly, "I decided to trust him, but that seems stupid, when I can hardly trust myself."

---

2006

Megumi traces her cherubic cheek with featherlight touches. Mai mumbles in her sleep and turns on her side.

Hope is a thing with feathers, delicate and breakable.

Megumi does not think the twins are destined for such a fate.

Twins are a taboo, an omen.

Two halves of a soul, forever incomplete, one cannot exist while the other is incomplete.

"Megumi-nii-san! Teach me how to hold a sword!"

"Shhh!"

Maki huffs, but says in a quieter voice, "Teach me how to use a sword. Otou-san is too impatient to teach me."

Megumi is of the opinion that when Zen'in Jinichi killed Zen'in Noabito and his conspirators, he should have killed Zen'in Ogi as well.

"Go through the five katas I taught you without falling, and I'll teach you how to use a dagger," Megumi conditions instead.

Maki pouts.

How cute.

"But," she whines, "It's too hard."

"Practice makes perfect." Maki opens her mouth to complain again, Megumi warns her, "If you whinge, I won't teach you."

She stomps her foot.

These are the rare moments when she acts like a child. The expectation her sire places on her as the alpha child is evident in her demeanor, speech, and behavior. 

Zen'in Ogi places his bet on Maki and hopes the gods flip a coin and the taboo lands tails down. He expects the alpha of the pair to unlock glorious potential, even if it results in the death of Mai.

Megumi plans to intervene before that happens.

Megumi points to the courtyard, "Get to work or join your sister for a nap."

Maki raises her middle finger.

"Put it down!"

--

2023

"Do you regret your choice?"

"No, I'm very stubborn, when I don't like something, I deal with it, but when it comes to my choices, I live with it. When I chose to marry him, I had a myriad of reasons, but my pettiest reasons came from adolescent Megumi. I was righting a wrong; I was finally the first choice. I no longer cared what anyone thought or the consequences of being with him. I won, I get to spend the rest of my life with him, I get to have his babies, I carry the title of wife. And the other choice? He's dead," Megumi laughs humorlessly, "Victory found in his defeat."

"Your shared past seems to be a point of contention. Have you two talked about it?" Dr. Saruta always cuts to the heart of the matter.

"No, I didn't see the point, but now I suspect it's fear. I'm afraid I'll be told what I've known all along."

"And what's that?"

"That I was the second choice, and no matter what I did, I was never the one in his heart." Megumi takes a fortifying breath and utters the words he's never spoken aloud. He suffered in silence because he thought he deserved it. "I gave him my virginity, got pregnant, and miscarried. I thought it was my punishment for going after an alpha that belonged to a good friend. I dealt with that alone, it was my burden to carry."

Dr. Saruta can't quite hide her astonishment.

Chapter Text

Their appointments are usually one hour, but Megumi requested 90 minutes. He wonders if he should increase the frequency of their sessions. When his heat nears, his anxiety and stress levels are usually at an all-time high. 

"You should consider talking to him."

Megumi closes his eyes, "The past should stay in the past."

"Should it? You carry a great deal of guilt and blame yourself for the actions of others. You were a child, maybe you knew better, maybe you didn't, but you did what you thought was best."

He feels his heart stutter, seize, and then pound loudly in his ribcage. He breaks out in a cold sweat, his hands shake as he rubs suddenly sweaty palms against his legs, and he stutters out, "I-I'm afraid."

"You don't have to tell him about the miscarriage, not yet. Start small, and work your way up to it."

Megumi tilts his head back, eyes burning. He blinks, and tears fall. "We were intimate for the first time in seventeen years, and I thought it was fine. One of the reasons we got married is because we were lonely, dating is hard, and we want a family. So sex is inevitable, but I realize that it was a bad idea, and maybe we should have waited and dated like he suggested.

"What if I got pregnant?" Megumi continues his tangent, mouth dry. "My heat is coming up, and I invited him to share it. What if I get pregnant? There's a chance, no suppressant or birth control is 100%," He swallows hard. "This is my chance, I can finally repent. Yeah, Satoru doesn't want kids yet, but this would be a happy miracle. A second chance."

Dr. Saruta is the lighthouse in the storm, she calmly says, "It's okay to be afraid, you've carried this burden for years. The first step is communicating, the next is rebuilding your fractured trust, and the next is working on your relationship with him. This will not be easy, it's a process that you'll always work on, but the benefits outweigh your present turmoil."

Megumi closes his eyes, emotionally exhausted, "I'll talk to him."

Cooking falls on him.

Megumi can make the bare necessities, but is quick to suggest takeaway, a hole-in-the-wall restaurant, or a trip to the local convenience store.

After mentioning that both parents should be healthy before conception, the omega stopped and participated in their food prep. They still indulged, just in moderation.

Tonight's fare is typical: grilled mackerel, meat and potato stew, cucumber salad, miso soup, and a bowl of brown rice.

Work was tedious; he's looking forward to seeing Megumi.

He needs to ask when he'll stop taking his suppressants so he can switch his birth control. Megumi has started preparing for his heat. Satoru has taken a passive role, letting the omega take the lead and taking cues based on his behavior, while asking questions about the omega's wants and needs.

He's no stranger to heats. Satoru was a late bloomer, so his presentation was anticipated. Many of his relatives were emboldened despite the clear divide between him and them. Father mitigated many of the designs placed on him, but he was not omnipotent, and Satoru was willful and thought himself a man, so he occasionally found himself in many curious and scandalous conundrums that were meant to leave him mated or honor-bound to marry the bait.

Temptation comes in many forms, and heats have led to the greatest rapture and defeat. It was how Suguru trapped him, one last bid to bind him to his cause and indoctrinate him to his ideology. But it wasn't really a trap when he had selfish motivations of his own, was it?

With Megumi, it will be what it should have always been.

Satoru looks up and stares into the distance.

He sees what others do not, deep into the unseen world.

He is near.

Satoru would recognize his cursed signature from anywhere.

The entrance door opens, and he waits patiently to see Megumi's lovely face, a balm for an otherwise boring day, filled with boring work and boring people.

He expects him to go change, perhaps take a quick shower, and then join him like he usually does after a day out.

Instead, Megumi makes a beeline to him and takes a seat.

His eyes are red, his face is swollen, his lips are chapped, and his expression is grave.

That sets Satoru on edge.

"Are you okay?"

It's such an inadequate question.

Megumi saw his therapist today; whatever they spoke of obviously involved some emotional upheaval that left Megumi upset.

Megumi doesn't answer him; instead, he asks, "Do you remember the last words you said to me?"

"This morning?" He recalls Megumi's sleepy groan and the wet spot on his pillow. "I said you still drool in your sleep, and I'll see you this evening, and you ignored all of my texts."

"I do not drool when I sleep," Megumi's denial, despite the glaring evidence, is cute. "I answered your texts with pictures and location updates."

"Two pictures, one location, and no words. You ignored me; it was a sad day indeed," He shakes his head in mock disappointment.

Megumi does not seek his levity; in fact, he looks sad, and that sobers Satoru quickly. "No, back in 2008."

Satoru has photographic memory, which is a downside of Six Eyes. He remembers everything with vivid detail. He's constantly overwhelmed with stimuli. He possesses an excess of white matter that forms thicker myelin sheaths to transmit and process the constant flow of information Six Eyes perceives. It enhances memory formation. Satoru does not forget, but he does compartmentalize memory. That was how he was able to forget Megumi.

But Satoru has opened the box labeled Megumi, and he remembers everything.

"Yes," he breathes.

"You didn't believe me, and you wouldn't listen to me, will you listen now?"

He doesn't expect Satoru to believe him. He feels sick, his heart aches, "Yes."

Megumi watches him solemnly, and then he speaks, "My cousin was cursed by Yuuji's dam..."

Chapter Text

"Were you close to her?"

Megumi wipes his eyes and sniffles. He's unusually emotional; he'd like to blame impending preheat, but he's vulnerable, and this is the best time to open up before he retreats behind his impenetrable walls.

"We were as kids. She was Mum's niece. She came to live with us after her dad died. Mum and Uncle Jun were estranged, but my parents took her in and formally adopted her." Megumi is rambling. He takes a deep breath. "There wasn't enough time to know the person she was."

Tsumiki wasn't gifted, and Megumi had lost touch with the friends who existed in the seen world. Bridging that gap required omitting and outright lying about things that played an integral part in his life, things he valued more than building a relationship with an over-eager cousin who wanted to become siblings, to rekindle that childhood bond.

His guilt stemmed from many places, but Tsumiki was a sore point that changed the trajectory of his life.

"When are you visiting her grave?" Satoru asks quietly. 

"June 11th, that's her birthday," Megumi answers.

"Can I come with you? I want to meet everyone important to Megumi." He's changed, he's changed so much, or maybe he's finally showing the side that was reserved for Suguru. Maybe Megumi isn't unique, and as second best, he's finally unlocked a side quest or gotten Shiny Satoru.

"Yeah, I'll ask mum."

2006

"Hisashi thinks you're avoiding him."

They are a family of eighty-five. Every able-bodied, alpha, beta, and most recently omega is required to undergo rudimentary hand-to-hand combat and weapons proficiency. Self-defense was mandatory.

Megumi learned at the knee of his parents. They used play to create scenarios where he could hone his survival skills, playing children's songs and using kata as humorous dances to match the song. They also gave him realistic toy weapons, including dulled blades, bows and arrows, spears, and guns.

Megumi helps train the younger Zen'in pups.

Zen'in Jinichi wants the newer generation to break the mold that has kept their predecessors in a chokehold. Megumi is a placeholder, but he is an the omega. He is meant to ease the path of a potential omega heir. His uncle and aunt remain sadly childless, but any child they conceive will take Megumi's place.

However, he is not alone.

The others are his contemporaries, cousins he supposes, related in some way or another. All of age, not quite children, but definitely not adults. Cunning, ambitious, smart, stupid on youth, carried away by pride and ego.

But Megumi, he exists on the edge of glory, but he's realizing slowly and at once, he is not magnificent.

"Who's Hisashi?"

"Nonya," is Megumi's ornery reply.

"Mind your own business," Naoya snaps.

"Ugh, I'm just asking," Minchan says waspishly.

"Stay five feet away," Megumi directs firmly.

"Say less, say nothing," Naoya snipes.

"I was just curious, you two never tell me anything," Minchan sulks.

"That's because you're a blabbermouth!" 

"I am not!"

Megumi points in the direction of the courtyard. "Be useful and help the kids." 

"Yeah, who is Hisashi?"

If Minato is an idiot, Madoka isn't that far behind on the dumbass scale.

Megumi's shadow becomes a living thing; it covers the engawa in darkness and blocks out all superfluous sounds.

Madoka pounds on the barrier, but neither boy pays her any mind. 

"I'm not avoiding him. I saw him last week and we talked," Megumi hums and thinks, "like two days ago."

Naoya shifts uncomfortably.

Megumi has a general idea where this discussion is heading and finds himself annoyed by Hisashi's audacity and amused by Naoya's predicament. Caught between family and friends, caught between two good friends.

"He asked you out and you rejected him."

"I didn't reject him," Megumi says patiently, fighting the irritation that grows with each word uttered. He hates repeating himself, he hates explaining himself, and he hates justifying his actions. "I was upfront about my expectations, he chose to misconstrue or disregard them."

Naoya rolls his eyes heavenward and gripes, "I told him it was a bad idea."

"It was," is Megumi's fastidious response. "You're a dumbass for agreeing to be his emissary and he's an idiot for leveraging his friendship with you."

"Don't shoot the messenger!"

"The messenger is a willing accomplice!"

"I was thinking about both of you. Hisashi really likes you, and it appeared that you liked him too, but I'm starting to wonder." Naoya leans forward and pins Megumi with scrutinizing brown eyes. Megumi feels a sense of foreboding. "I didn't ask you then, but during that group date, that bastard Gojo Satoru kept looking at you. Oh! He was slick, but I caught him twice!" Megumi struggles to keep a neutral expression. "And your friend Nobara, she noticed too!"  This is why Megumi has avoided this topic with Nobara, but he knows she knows. The people closest to him will always notice. "We exchanged numbers, and I asked her what was up with that! Megumi does that yeti like you!? Better yet, do you like him!?"

Megumi closes his eyes, inhales, and exhales. "It doesn't matter, he's formally courting Suguru."

"It does matter!" Naoya's voice becomes shrill. "Alphas look like that when they want to hunt, fight, or fuck!"

Megumi flushes and wants to die.

Chapter Text

2006

When the request comes and he reads the details, he's eager, all too willing to lend his services and then some.

It's the experience of a lifetime. 

The chance to see, better yet, meet a living legend. Megumi has so many questions and would love to hear from the originator's mouth, perhaps even pick her mind over a theory or two, and ask if Takiyasha's actions warrant her absence in history. 

Tengen is a living god.

She is the reason the Gojo are held in reverence. Though steeped in mysticism, Six Eyes is the result of base instincts. A tale as old as time, an alpha determined to conquer an indomitable omega. No matter how much an omega prospers, an alpha will hound their every step, dead set on tearing them down and putting them in their place. A bitch is still a breeding bitch.

The first Six Eyes was born of this union. Whether it was before Tengen's ascension or after Sugawara no Michizane reigned terror across the land, hellbent on vengeance, it matters not. The result was Six Eyes and Limitless, and that cemented the Gojo as the main branch of Sugawara no Michizane's descendants.

He would love to meet one of the first scholars and learn the methods and thought process behind the Tenets of Tengen.

However, when he reads the roster, his bubble is popped and he wilts in disappointment. How many special grades are in rotation? Child labor is preferable to the high fees of a special grade. 

This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, but Megumi can always use nepotism and connections to meet Tengen-sama as a disciple.

Megumi thumbs the pages of the folder and stares at the names. 

Besides a few SMS and two calls, Megumi hasn't seen Suguru. Where the omega goes, Gojo is bound to follow; they are attached at the hip. Megumi isn't willing to risk his sanity and tender feelings for a close friend. He'll let distance grow naturally and leave Suguru to the happiness he dare not infringe on.

He worries, though.

Nobara can hold her own with aplomb, but they are a dynamic duo. This mission would likely get them the elusive promotion she's been seeking. Nobara has a point to prove, but Megumi couldn't care less. He qualifies as a special grade under the Hei's ranking system, but he does not seek the title; he pursues knowledge.

Maybe Nobara can ask questions for him; he'll bribe her with the promise of back-up. He doubts she'll need it, but the plans of mice and men seldom go according to plan.

2023

He's withdrawn and open.

It's a strange dichotomy.

The ease that has grown between them is filled with a strange tension. The casual affection becomes hesitant, hovering uncertainly in the air and then retracting. Megumi steps back and freezes when he touches him, so he backs off and gives him space. 

Then night comes, and the space between them feels cavernous. He wants to bridge the gap, to reach out and touch him. He wants to scent him, reaffirm the growing bond between them. 

They share the omega's nest, but Megumi resides on one side of the futon and he on the other. 

Satoru doesn't like it; he doesn't like it at all.

But he's patient.

Megumi is ruminative. 

He'll speak, sometimes he finds salvation in the dark. 

Megumi faces him, voice a whisper in the quiet of the night, "Do you remember when you asked if I hated you?"

The past is now open for discussion, and Satoru wonders if he has the wherewithal to confront it. There are four sides to a story: his, hers, theirs, and the truth. Who is the liar? 

"Yeah," he answers, hushed.

"I did hate you," though said in past tense, what's past is prologue. The confirmation leaves Satoru stricken. The following words wreck him. "But I hated myself more."

"Megumi..." He says, but finds himself desolate, empty; there are no words to comfort him. 

Megumi smiles miserably. "There are things I want to say to you, but it's easier to live as we are."

He finds his voice, but his tongue feels heavy: "The past follows us." 

"It's an omen," Megumi closes his eyes.

"I'm sorry-"

Megumi's eyes snap open. "I don't want your apologies or regrets."

Sorry is paltry under the weight of their shared past. 

"What do you need?" In this, he must humble himself; in this, pride and ego must be set aside; in this, his patience must become infinite, and his empathy must be all-consuming.

"I don't think we should share this heat. Accidents happen, and I don't want a repeat of last time. And I don't want to lose a child, not like last time. Having sex before December was a bad idea, you were right about family planning," Megumi seems to be speaking to himself rather than Satoru, but the alpha's ears are filled with white noise. 

"What do you mean last time?" 

Chapter Text

2006

The call does come. 

The darkness subsides, and they are on high alert.

The stench of ozone is all-consuming, and in the distance, the dispersing mushroom cloud. The step beyond murasaki, the impossible shiro, Supanova.

What would designate the veritable nuclear option?

Megumi summons Nue to peer through the eye of an owl. He is offered an aerial view, and targets are found.

He recounts his findings and warns them of dissenters and heretics, the presence of special grade curses that slaughter and feast on the corpses of shamans, curse users, and civilians alike. 

The call came, and Nobara shouted 'code red' amidst the backdrop of chaos: the familiar sounds of battle, shrieks, and death throes. 

Nobara and Megumi answered; he did not come alone.

Piercing Ox manifests, goshoguruma in tow, he was called as backup, as a medic. 

He summons lupine guardians and initiates the wild hunt. Copies of the wolves form as they merge with Rabbit Escape and form his favored chimeras. 

He needs to find Nobara. 

Her scent is familiar, he sets the guardians on her trail, and Megumi follows, stirring the ox-driven cart beside him.

It is the end of the beginning.

He finds her.

Surrounded by civilians, members of Tengen-sama's cult who clap enthusiastically over the body under a sheet. Shoko works tirelessly on a deceased vessel, but as Megumi nears, he sees where the fatal blow was given.

He is noticed, just not by Nobara.

Suguru looks up, a manic look to his eyes, and frantically says, "Megumi!? Help Shoko! Please help her! Riko still has a chance!"

RCT is wonderous and ruinous, but there are fundamental rules that cannot be overcome, and death is a line not to be crossed, not without dire consequences

Death is reversible except for two instances. 

Cut off the head, and the soul exits the body and leaves the realm of the living indefinitely. Bisect the torso, the source of cursed energy, and that is a death sentence, but sometimes the soul lingers. 

Megumi's shadow shifts, and a crown of antlers forms. Orbs of light form into a gossamer cloud, reinforcing Shoko's positive energy. 

However, it is too late.

She has gone out.

Megumi shakes his head, "I'm sorry, Suguru."

Desolation assaults him, the light goes out of his dark eyes, and the scent of his distress is so acute that Megumi staggers under the weight of it. He exudes the signs of an impending omega drop, and Megumi's instinctual response to reach out and provide comfort is thwarted when he sees Gojo gather him into his arms, hold him close, and scent mark him. 

Megumi looks away, squeezing his eyes tight, and feels his heart pang. He mentally slaps himself, heartbreak has no place here.

Suguru is never the same.

It is the beginning of the end.

2023

His urgent tone snaps him out of his diatribe.

"Oh," Megumi says in a small voice and shrinks into himself.

He didn't mean to say that; he wanted to follow his therapist's advice and work his way up to it slowly. Find the courage to face the past, confront what time and emotional distance have made numb, be brave in the face of crippling fear, of the truth.

But the truth will always out itself.

He's not ready.

"Slip of the tongue," He tries to retract his words. "Nevermind-"

"What do you mean last time?" This time, the alpha voice is present, and Megumi is too emotionally drained to resist its tantalizing call, or maybe he's tired.

Raw and laid bare, he hesitantly says, "I miscarried." 

In the dark, the brightest lights are the luminescence of Satoru's eyes and moonlight that peers through the wide window. It highlights his features and defines the sharp angles of his face. It makes him appear forbidding, etched from stone.

"When?" But his voice betrays him.

And his eyes, the most ethereal quality about him, are emotive.

Megumi answers him, the words ripped from his throat, "January 2007."

"That means you were..." The alpha can't bring himself to finish the sentence as realization and horror dawns on him.

"Nearly four months," Megumi feels the echoes of what he dealt with then. The echoes of deep despair.

Embittered sadness paints his features, and he asks, "Were you ever going to tell me?"

Megumi is silent.

It was a secret he would have taken to the grave. He had a plan and a support group; he wanted to spare himself a world of pain.

His silence speaks volumes.

He falls on his back, stares at the ceiling, and then laughs incredulously, "I thought what I knew was bad, I wanted to make amends, but it's worse than I thought." 

The deflection is automatic, "It's not your-"

"Don't do that," Satoru orders. He sits up, crosses his legs, and covers his eyes. "Don't make excuses for me, don't coddle me, don't tell me it's fine. Cut out your bleeding heart, kill your empathy, you're the wronged party."

Megumi's lower lip trembles, and he feels the telltale burn of tears. "Maybe I should go."

Satoru quickly turns in his direction, "Why would you go!? I should leave!"

"I don't want you to go," Megumi mumbles, fighting tears.

"I should leave," Satoru repeats. "Maybe you're right," He runs agitated hands through his hair. "Maybe this was a bad idea. I should have stayed away from you."

The dam brakes, "I said yes to your proposal as penance. I want four children to make up for failing the first."

"I don't know what to say," Satoru sounds lost.

Its old news to him, but new to Satoru.

Megumi has had time to grieve, but will he? Does he even have the right to? 

Chapter Text

There are many types of silences. This one is filled with things unsaid, tumultuous emotions, and the specter of an uncertain future.

Megumi feels compelled to fill it, some byproduct of his instinctual need to soothe his anxious omega and the agitated alpha beside him. Meaningless prattle that would neither convey the depth of his emotions nor resolve the chasm between them.

How should he word it? 

What should he say?

Will he be miscontrued?

Then something vindictive sinisterly whispers: Why should he be considerate of his feelings when he never spared him or considered him?

Until now.

Until Satoru decided on the second choice.

"After we slept together, I was self-destructive," Megumi speaks his truth and frees himself from the restraints of his guilty conscience. "When I found out, it snapped me out of my downward spiral. It gave me hope, I got used to the idea, I planned and confided in a friend." Satoru is watching him; he feels his heavy gaze, stripping back the layers and exposing him. He once feared it, those heavy eyes, but now there is nothing to hide. "Naoya was willing to claim it; we had a cover story. The Zen'in and Gojo intermarried; genetics are the luck of the draw. If the baby looked like your family, who cared? It's 'parents' would have the same genetic pool." Then Megumi smiles mirthlessly, "Right when I got attached, used to the idea, and was hopeful, I lost it.

"Seeing you with Kyo-chan and Toshi-chan reminded me that I could do it right this time, and though the relationship started as a farce, at least I wasn't the second choice."

Megumi feels relieved; the cumbersome weight he's carried for seventeen years is gone. He covers his face and feels tears gather again; he lets them fall, unashamed. 

"Is that what you think? That you're second best?"

His question throws him a bit off guard, then again, Satoru rarely reacts the way he expects. As teenagers his mercurial nature made him unpredictable, but Megumi became accustomed enough to it to see patterns. 

"It's what I know," Megumi says with absolute certainty. "Grass is green, the sky is blue, and you love Suguru. I knew better, Suguru was my friend, but I was stupid enough to let you in. Again and again and again because I liked you," Megumi's disdain for his weakness appalls and saddens him. He wants to take adolescent Megumi into his arms and shake him, then hug him and tell him it gets better and the sun rises again, despite the bleak, gray days that seemed never-ending. "What kind of friend fucks their friend's boyfriend? A homewrecking slut, that's what." 

"You were never a second choice." The alpha is suddenly close, tugging his arms down, pulling the shield of his hands away from his face. Megumi complies, he's tired, the fight has left him.  "Second best? You were the right person," Satoru stares intently into his eyes, "just the wrong time."

Megumi's automatic response is on the tip of his tongue. A deflection, perhaps, or an attempt to kill the hope that never quite died.

"I want to believe you," Megumi whispers.

"What can I do?" It's a plea.

Megumi doesn't have a solution; he has nothing else to give. 

"I don't know, for now, talk to me." 

Satoru settles on his side, bringing back the warmth and comfort Megumi has become accustomed to.

"Everything about you blew my mind. You were someone like me and so unlike me. That fascinated me. I," the alpha pauses very briefly, but Megumi catches it. "I think I was in love with you. I loved you in my own way."

Adolescent Megumi would have given the world to hear those words, damn the consequences.

Adult Megumi is skeptical.

"You were obsessed with me," Megumi corrects him. He identified Satoru's behavior, examined it with the same distant curiosity he observed his years of emotional upheaval, hormones, and growth. 

"Mania is a type of love." 

Megumi rolls his eyes. Trust him to be glib on subjects of importance. Once a bastard, always a bastard. "Spare me." 

"Hear me out, you were always out of reach." Satoru's thumb strokes the sensitive skin of his wrist. "I thought you humored me because of Shoko and then Suguru. Then I thought we might be friends, I liked talking to you, you were so interesting. Then you distanced yourself, and I didn't get it. I'd never been ignored or told no. It drove me crazy."

"You were a spoiled zaibatsu heir," Megumi comments. 

"Hm. Something like that," there's something in his tone, bitterness? Perhaps acrimony? Misery? "But that would imply I had a choice, and I didn't, not really. My choices and autonomy were conditional. Because of that, I made questionable decisions."

Satoru looks down and entangles their fingers together.

"My behavior... there's no excuse or explanation that can make up for how you were treated. If it means anything," the alpha looks up and blue meets green, "I'm sorry for everything."

Megumi watches him speak, takes in his expression, and body language.

He's open, truthful, and sincere. 

"I believe you." I don't forgive you goes unsaid and yet is heard all the same.

Megumi doesn't know if he'll forgive him; time will tell, but he appreciates having his feelings acknowledged.

Chapter Text

"Should ... should we stay together?"

He laughs humorlessly, "That's up to you."

"You're the right person and this is the right time. I'm a better person, let me be there for you."

He closes his eyes, "Okay."

--

Satoru insists on driving; normalcy is important. Mundane tasks are tedious, but the monotony of routine keeps the alpha grounded.

Megumi thinks it's an excuse to drive his impressive car.

When he pulls up in a midsize SUV that Megumi doesn't recognize, Megumi's mind wanders to children. It's big enough for a family of six. Then he wonders if he should get his license. What are the merits of traveling by automobile if he can traverse the world through shadow, but then he recalls the anomalies that lurk, and decides, despite the protection of his shikigami, he'll refrain from exposing his probable children to the madness, and adds a license to his ever-growing list. 

Children.

All paths lead back to that subject.

They are at an armistice, existing in nebulous territory. Partners, not quite partners, lovers, a loud resounding question mark, husband and wife, on paper, yes, in reality, a contract and legality bind them. A mating bond-

He strays away from that thought. 

Before he can open the passenger door, Satoru locks it, gets out, walks around the SUV, smiles cheekily, and opens the door for Megumi.

He quietly murmurs his thanks and gets in.

The drive is two hours long, if they are lucky, 1.5 hours.

Two hours in an enclosed space; Megumi is not looking forward to it.

Satoru settles into the driver's seat, reminds Megumi to put on his seat belt, starts the car, and leaves their quiet neighborhood and heads for the busy streets and highways.

Megumi puts on his earbuds, plays the latest episode of his favorite podcast, stares out the window, and watches the scenery pass by.

---

"Where do we go from here?"

"I don't know."

"Then we should take it one day at a time."

"... okay."

---

Megumi always wondered if his parents regretted having one child. Though a large brood wasn't compatible with their lifestyle, Megumi remembers asking for a sibling once or twice and then being introduced to his sire's maternal family. It mitigated those innocent requests and questions; then he realized that one or two extra lives would increase their visibility and put more targets on their backs.

Grudges live long, and revenge requires two graves.

It's a sobering reality.

Perhaps that influenced Megumi's path in life; if it did, it bore little consequence in comparison to Tsumiki's influence.

Hubris is a terrible pill to swallow, and Megumi learned that might does not equal right, and that arrogance resulted in a reckoning.

When the SUV comes to a stop and the ignition turns off, Megumi opens the door before Satoru can exit and do it for him. 

The alpha stops him before he can leave. "Aa?" He pulls out his earbuds. 

"What's wrong?"

Megumi freezes, it's a momentary tensing of his muscles, but Satoru notices. He always watches Megumi with keen eyes, observing his body language, micro-expressions, and the subtle nuances in his voice. 

The more comfortable Megumi becomes, the more emotive he becomes.

He's ill at ease. 

"Nothing's wrong," Megumi tries to equivocate.

"There is," Satoru refutes.

Megumi shakes his head, "No, there isn't."

"There is," Satoru asserts, "Tell me what's wrong."

Megumi will do no such thing. They've thrown the door wide open, come what may, the truth or some semblance of it, is laid bare.

Megumi searches for a reason, any reason, and blurts out his thrown-together rationale. "We're visiting my dead cousin, of course, I feel like shit."

A gray brow rises over dark shades, "That's low, way beneath you."

Megumi raises his chin, "It's the truth."

"Is that the game we're playing?" Satoru questions rhetorically.

Megumi ignores the alarm bells that question raises. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"You do," Satoru says with certainty, "You're just a contrarian. Whatever it is," He peers over the horizon of dark shades and promises, "I'll get it out of you."

The barely veiled threat makes something hot clench inside of him, and Megumi wonders if something is wrong with him.

Yes, yes, there is.

It's preheat. 

Chapter Text

2006

Nobara's yearly heat is scheduled for the end of August.

To Megumi's surprise, she chooses to spend it with friends rather than her alpha.

"Shoko and I are taking a break," Nobara discloses when she sees his astonishment. "The star plasma vessel mission revealed cracks in our relationship that I didn't know we had, or maybe I ignored."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Nobara plays with the charm bracelet on her left wrist, a gift from Shoko. "Not yet, I'm still processing everything."

"Are you okay with Suguru coming?" 

Nobara grimaces.

If anyone was impacted by the death of the star plasma vessel, it was Suguru. Megumi only has Nobara's record of the mission and his brief involvement in the affair, but Suguru's omega drop spoke of deeper depths, of an emotional attachment forged through levity found in life and death circumstances.

"He needs the distraction. "

That's an understatement, but Megumi does not know the extent of Suguru's torment. Not yet.

---

"I look like shit, don't I?" Suguru's self-deprecating smile doesn't reach his eyes. He's careworn; deep bruises are splotched purple and blue under his eyes, the ease in his demeanor is gone, his shoulders are hunched under some unknown weight.

He is bereft.

Megumi could feed him false platitudes, placate his vanity, and soothe his obviously discombobulated feelings, but he is a friend first and foremost.

"Aa," he nods.

Suguru shrinks into himself, "That bad?"

"The worst." Suguru wilts further, and Megumi extends him some grace, allowing concern to coat his voice. "Are you up to this? Nobara will understand if you have to cancel."

Suguru adamantly shakes his head. "No, I need this. I-I, it's the least I can do after you two helped me."

Suguru is looking for a purpose, but Megumi knows better than anyone that outrunning one's inner demons is a battle in futility. Bitch faced karma stares back at him in his reflection each day. 

"That doesn't call for quid pro quo, that's what friends do."

"Then I must be a shit friend since I'm using this as an excuse to escape my alpha and best friend."

Megumi ignores the way his heart shrivels up and withers into ash. He steps out of his lane and broaches the topic that left Suguru reeling. "I'm sorry I couldn't do more for Amanai Riko," He tells him again. "Death is the final enemy; you can't defeat it, but you can delay it." As shamans, they live on borrowed time. Why not live as if there's no tomorrow, when the light of day is never guaranteed? 

"Riko," Suguru trails off and looks into the middle distance. "Riko knew she would die; she'd gotten used to the idea, but it was new to me. She was supposed to be an objective in a mission, but how could I treat her that way when she was full of life, but she would never get to experience it?" 

Megumi can empathize and view this impartially. Amanai Riko was a living sacrifice; her death was inevitable. She, like them, was a cog in a centuries-old machine. However, her death wasn't necessary; there were other options, but the star plasma vessel is a component in a ritual that loathes substitutes.

"If she told Tengen-sama, she would have been spared." Suguru's vulpine eyes open. "She wouldn't be the first vessel to decline the ritual."

"What?"

Megumi blinks, gaze becoming curious.

Suguru is flummoxed. Brow furrowed quizzically, lips slightly parted, brown vulpine eyes on display. 

Oh.

He didn't know.

Megumi wonders if this information was withheld from him, if his ignorance was by design. It's something that could easily be remedied by Gojo. The alpha did Suguru a  disservice. Megumi is unsure if he should rectify the mistake or leave his friend in an uninformed state.

"When there isn't a viable candidate, the star plasma vessel is chosen amongst Tengen-sama's descendants."

"Tengen-sama isn't human," Suguru rebuts, "She's a god."

"She started as a human," Megumi corrects. "She was one of the most powerful jujutsu sorcerers in the country, probably the world. She was an omega, the Gojo are descended from her and Sugawara no Michizane." 

"How did she become a god?"

Megumi shrugs, he has no idea. Perhaps a ritual, perhaps a human sacrifice, perhaps delving into the unpredictable and unforgiving concepts of life and death. Perhaps it was the very practices that are marked as forbidden under the Tenets of Tengen. Forbidden jujutsu is a grey area that ranges from benign and obscure to downright evil and heinous.

"Likely forbidden jujutsu. That's why the practice of the star plasma vessel is so important. They don't like to cross any lines, choosing a vessel amongst Tengen-sama's descendants is taboo, it's like cannibalizing herself."

"So Riko didn't have to die?" Suguru questions tremulously.

Megumi pauses before answering. Amanai Riko's death is one aspect in an unwinding conspiracy that revealed sedition and insurrection.  Suguru was impacted by her passing, and Megumi wonders if it is friendship or infatuation influencing his grief. 

Is Suguru infatuated with the idea of Amanai or does he grieve for the possibility of a life with her? 

Megumi mentally slaps himself. Jealousy and avarice riddled his inner thoughts and emotions. 

"No, in an ideal world, she would still be alive."

Suguru appears stricken and distraught. He stumbles out of Nobara's nest and mutters, "I need to go. I need to think."

"Suguru," Megumi says alarmed, and grabs his shoulder and arm.

"Just let me go!" 

Megumi doesn't; he drags him back into Nobara's nest. Suguru burst into tears, and Megumi wraps him in a tight embrace.

----

It is the beginning of the end. 

"What the fuck did you say to Suguru!?"

Chapter Text

2006

It gets to a point.

Running across the boundaries, headfirst into insanity. Passed caution, over the threshold into unmarked territory. 

It comes to a head. 

There's a catalyst, and then it's over the precipice. 

Words could work, but words were exchanged, but not the right words. The questions were vague, round about, never broaching the subject, never acknowledging what is, what was, what could be, what never will be.

Maybe it's misplaced loyalty, teenage hormones, the damning draw of alpha and omega, or the electric tension that made his teeth ache, that made him want to bare his throat. 

Maybe, maybe, maybe.

It comes to a point.

It comes to a head. 

"What the fuck did you say to Suguru!?"

Alphas are predictable, stupid, and ruled by base instincts, predictable but dangerous. Natural born killers, the top of the hierarchy, wily, dangerous when given the right incentive and circumstances.

This applies to this alpha; this does not apply to this alpha. This alpha was honed and bred to be the pinnacle of his secondary gender. 

His very presence demands attention, deference and reverence.

Megumi is aware of him, always aware of him, and like many of their encounters, he is an annoyance.

A furious, presumptuous annoyance. 

Megumi regards him coolly.

"You'll have to be more specific. Suguru and I have had many con-"

"You know," He cuts him off. 

"I don't." Megumi's expression remains flat, and he speaks without inflection, but his eyes are flinty.

"Oh?" 

Then the potent fury diminishes and becomes quiet, stalking, crawling wrath, and that sets Megumi's fight or flight instinct on its head.

It would take a thought, a flick of his fingers, no, it would be automatic, abridging the ritual to pierce that impenetrable defense.

Just in case, just in case, just in case.

Megumi is no stranger to fighting alphas.

And this one elicits violence or delight.

What will it be this time?

"Are you being facetious?" Gojo queries, a curious lilt to his voice. "Pretense is a horrible look on you."

"Say what you need to say," Megumi demands.

It gets to a point.

It comes to a head.

It creates the perfect storm.

"Little Megumi."

It happens again.

It's a subtle, but pivotal shift. A slight change of body language, the momentary release of a monstrous cursed signature, and the mercurial nature of a god in the body of a hormone-addled adolescent. 

"Little Megumi, kind Megumi, earnest, bleeding heart Megumi," Voice silky as he coos, he mocks, he derides. "Always the helper, your sweet, sweet heart, good intentions and altruism will be crushed under undeserving hands and feet." 

He stalks him like prey, and Megumi watches him, sees his reflection in dark shades, peers through one of eighteen eyes when the alpha enters his blind spots.

"I didn't ask for a character analysis and assassination," His lip curls barely repressed derision. "Your games and cheap thrills are boring." 

"Are they?" That mouth that breathes, that hisses, that speaks words of venom and fire curls and shows many sharp teeth. "Indulge me, little Megumi! Show me your bleeding heart! The heart that doesn't know when to quit and leave well enough alone!"

Words fail with them. Words are wasted on them. Words have never conveyed what should be said. Words or perhaps logic and discernment would resolve it, a few words, three sentences, a confession, that would lead to another storm, another form of madness.

But words are used instead to injure, to cut in deep to the heart of the bone, into a bleeding heart that possessed an indomitable will but flimsy defenses. 

Weary of the alpha's theatrics, Megumi demands, "What do you want!?"

And suddenly he is there. A hair's breath away, breathing the same air, a whisper at his ear as he utters a damning promise. "Stay in your fucking lane, don't interfere, Suguru is mine and I am his."

Megumi's automatic defense is to punch the alpha, but Gojo captures his wrist in a bruising grip and he warns him, blue eyes gleaming with malice, "Stay away from Suguru."

"No," Megumi says defiantly. 

All it takes is one word, one hand seal, one opportunity to pierce that invulnerable veil. 

But Megumi lets himself be accosted.

He ignores his fight-or-flight instincts.

He is a fool.

Gojo cocks his head, a curious bird of prey. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you have an agenda. What does the courtship of me and Suguru have to do with you? Why is Megu-chan so nosy? Why stick your nose in things that have nothing to do with you?"

Megumi wrenches his arm out of the alpha iron grip, uncaring of the bruising pain it causes. 

"You're his alpha." The words are ripped out of his throat. "You've done a shitty job at it. You should have told him about the star-"

"Are you jealous?"

Megumi sucks in a sharp breath, appalled, astonished, struck.

What a question. What a question. What a question.

It is the question.

Gojo watches him intently. 

"No."

"Liar," the alpha accuses and kisses him.

It gets to a point.

It comes to a head.

Megumi freezes as his lips are crushed under the alpha's, then he retaliates and savagely bites him, ripping through flesh, tasting blood.

Gojo chuckles, pulling away.

Red stains the pale pink of his bottom lip and drips on the porcelain skin of his chin. 

Poison green eyes watch as he licks his lips, red staining his teeth as he smiles his vicious smile, full of sharp teeth. 

Megumi kisses him.

It taste of copper and metal.

It tastes bittersweet.

The perfect storm of violence and delights.

Chapter Text

2006

What does it mean to surrender?

Teeth clash, he bites at his lips, claws at his clothes, wrinkling his pristine uniform. Then he reaches up, tugs, nearly rips out his hair, sucking his lips, biting, clawing, demanding. Blood flavoring his lips, metallic and copper.

It's less of a kiss and more of a battle of wills. My kingdom is as great as yours, my kingdom is greater than yours, surrender, throw down your weapons, wave your white flag, plea for mercy for your women, omegas, and children, prepare the block and the end of every soldier and able-bodied man and alpha.

Surrender, surrender, surrender.

Siezed and pulled abruptly against a muscular chest, then pushed forcefully against a hard surface. Megumi gasps, but the battle isn't over; it's only begun. Gojo steps into him, forces his arms above his head, his wrists manacled, and blood red lips fill his vision. He forgets to struggle as he's kissed again.

Bites become nips, then teasing, insistent laps at his lips seeking entrance.

What does it mean to surrender?

This cold war filled with skirmishes, intense battles of words and violence, interjectd with uneasy ceasefires and false armistices.

What does it mean to surrender?

Momentary insanity?

Megumi opens his mouth, and the battle becomes a fever. They are novices, they are old souls, they are new to each other, eager and fueled by hunger, anger, and desperation. Gojo explores his depths, seeks his secrets, the wiles that drew him like a moth to a flame. Tasting him, savoring him, branding him as he releases potent alpha pheromones in his quest for conquest.

Gojo lets go of his wrists and becomes possessed. Megumi is full of praise, breathy sighs, and sensuality as their bodies touch and align.

Seeking skin, fingertips graze over his cheek and jaw, caressing the slender nape of his neck. Megumi melts against the alpha and shivers when he feels his hot breath against his ear.

Clothes part, layers pushed aside. Gojo kisses the pale column of his neck and traverses dangerously close to his scent gland. Megumi clutches his uniform jacket, grip tightening.

It is madness.

Acute madness.

He should stop this, he should stop this, he should stop this.

He does nothing.

He does nothing as the shape of him is traced. He does nothing as his clothes are pushed aside and calloused hands trail his belly and slip beneath, seeking the hot center of him.

He buries his face in the alpha's shoulder and gasp, gasp, gasp, gasp, hips rolling, hitching, damning.

He is willing, he is damned.

---

2023

It's a full house.

Satoru wonders if Megumi is aware.

Even little Yuuta is here.

Perhaps they can kill two birds with one stone.

Miniature white figures scurry across the path and appear in the vast garden that makes up the yard. Their oddly shaped heads shake and tilt as they watch them curiously.

Fushiguro Kai's cursed signature coats the garden and manifests in these miniature white figures. Kodama, forest spirits.

The backdoor opens, and Fushiguro Kai greets them. This time, there's warmth in their eyes, "Megumi-chan! Satoru-kun! Come in, come in!"

The wraith that hovers over the elder omega shifts and looks at Satoru, meets his infinite gaze with red, unnatural glowing eyes.

"Dreaming son, six of eye, is there any truth you wish to know under the sun?"

Satoru blinks.

He's human; whatever ties his soul has to the great beyond are severed until he greets death as a friend and becomes what he was and always will be.

Chapter Text

Yuuta immediately cringes when he sees Satoru.

The alpha pats his shoulders and murmurs, "Time and place."

That momentarily gives Megumi pause. He wonders if he should intervene. 

The lines blur here.

Satoru promised to keep Megumi and their future family separate from the Gojo clan, but Yuuta's involvement with Maki will likely drag Megumi into matters he left behind. Isn't that why Satoru told him? A warning to prepare him for unwanted interactions. But it's more complicated than that.

"Hiya, Maki-chan!"

Maki glowers.

Her reaction to Satoru is valid considering their former teacher-pupil dynamic and his personality, but then her brow furrows and her eyes dart between Megumi and Satoru. 

Her eyes narrow, and her frown becomes a fierce scowl.

She's made the reasonable conclusion and is far from pleased.

"And you called my dad a traitor. Look at you."

There are layers to this.

The relationship between Megumi and Maki is ambivalent. Maki believes Megumi took her choices and her revenge. Megumi exercised his power as heir and resolved an issue before it became a glaring problem. 

Dad smacks the back of Maki's head, "Stop mouthing off. You're gonna embarrass yourself." 

Memory is fickle, what Megumi remembers differs starkly from what Maki and Mai remember. Mai remembers nothing of her early childhood, a trauma response that was never resolved despite years of therapy. Maki, however, does, but her memories are rose-tinted and she idolizes a man who would see her or her twin dead in a bid for power. 

Sometimes the truth causes cognitive dissonance, sometimes the truth is better left unsaid, sometimes the truth is a precursor for more trauma. 

Megumi did what needed to be done and has lived with Maki's festering resentment ever since. He didn't want leadership, but that decision made him understand the so-called greater good. The sanctity of peace, of equilibrium in a large family, is worth the suffering of others. 

"Don't worry about it, Dad," Megumi dismisses her and smiles cooly, "Uncle is in for a rude awakening."

Dad snickers, "I can't wait to see it."

Megumi will have to intervene on Maki's behalf. In the convoluted arrangement made between him and his uncle, Maki and Mai are his responsibility, regardless of his parents' former guardianship of the twins.

The thought delving back into inner clan politics causes a visceral reaction in him, and he wonders idly if that's a reflection of a larger problem.

Megumi unofficially relinquished his title and the duties, tasks, and responsibilities that came with it. He willingly gave up his scholarly pursuits in jujutsu. He distanced himself from sorcery and everything associated with it. Limiting himself to his shikigami, occasional visits to the ancestral home, and second-hand accounts from Nobara. 

He had his reasons, but since he is revealing secrets and telling his truth, perhaps it's time to stop lying to himself.

Gojo Satoru was the deciding factor.

It all comes to him and their fucked up past. 

At least he can admit it and cease lying to himself.

"Yuuta-kun, long time no see, how are you?"

Yuuta rubs the back of his neck nervously. "H-hi Megumi-san, I'm good. How have you been?" 

"Busy," he says, his eyes flickering briefly to Satoru. "We moved, we're not ready for guests, but our door is open if you want to visit."

Yuuta is Satoru's heir, but he's also young, confused, and pregnant. Wasn't Megumi the same at one point? He had only his wits, his fraying sanity, his cousin as a confidant and ally, and hope and a dream.

Yuuta is different.

Yuuta is the same. 

Yuuta smiles hesitantly and nods. 

Megumi smiles in return, but stares at Satoru. 

Let his child be Maki's, otherwise Satoru will arrange a termination or risk accusations of bloodline theft.

Chapter Text

2006

When his breathing evens out, when his heart begins to calm, when the sweat cools, when the thrums of pleasure slow and become occasional pleasant pangs, sanity creeps in.

It pokes, prods, and pricks with bramble vines, thorns scraping skin, tipped in crimson.

Scheele's green eyes open and stare at the rising stars and the dying sun above. 

Awareness dawns slowly. 

He's surrounded, above him, around him, in him. The weight is suffocating, the weight is hot and damp against his skin. It grounds him, keeps him centered as his thoughts return. 

So this is where madness led him.

Of course, he would be taken here, in the wilds, under a copse of trees, like an animal. They are naught but animals, slaves to their instincts. What has rationality given them? Foolish attempts to escape the inevitable, fruitless endeavors that have led to this moment, a surrender, a clash that leads to defeat and victory for both.

Gojo nuzzles his neck, and the loose embrace Megumi has around his shoulders tightens. The alpha breathes deeply, and Megumi finds himself mirroring it. 

His skin against his, his acquiescence, his surrender. 

Gojo kisses his collarbone, then his shoulder, the skin under his ear, fanning those dying embers. 

"This," He says, protest as if he is not a willing accomplice, assuaging the guilt that will eventually assault him. "Is a bad idea."

"I don't think it is," Gojo's voice is deep, silk on the ears. "I think we're right where we want to be." 

"I-"

Gojo kisses him, swallowing his words and objections. Megumi kisses back eagerly, all too willing to throw himself off the precipice. When Gojo momentarily pulls away, he murmurs against his lips, "Feel, just feel and let me have you."

Megumi nods and allows himself to be swept away by their shared madness again.

Words fail, but their bodies do the talking. 

It's the aftermath that will wreck him.

---

2023

Tsumiki is a recent addition to the family grave. She was entombed initially in a solo grave. An insult to Mum, but an observation of the traditions of the family they married into.

Dad granted Tsumiki his surname, and that gained her a place on their family registry, but his acceptance did not extend to the Fushiguro. Megumi's surname is courtesy of his paternal grandmother's family. 

Fushiguro is recognizable in select spheres, and his grandparents' marriage was typical of the 1950s, arranged by their parents, but as members of clans of the newly abolished nobility, there were greater implications where they were concerned. Social status, continuity of the bloodlines, business and political liaisons, etc.

The introduction of Tsumiki to the Fushiguro was met with disapprobation and censure. Had she been a cousin, a member of an auxiliary family, even a generation or two removed, they would have welcomed her into their ranks. Lineage matters to families like the Fushiguro and Tsumiki polluted the waters. What would become of the girl, and how would that reflect on them? It's the appearance of things, and if she shared their blood, that factor of uncertainty would be mitigated.

Her death led to her eventual acceptance.

Death is constant and universal, an ally and adversary. 

Megumi tried to defy it for her.

His hubris was his reckoning.

"Are you coming, Megu-tan?"

Megumi blinks and sees his mother's expectant expression. 

"Yes," he answers. 

The grass becomes greener with every step Mum takes into the graveyard. Megumi follows with Satoru trailing languidly at his heels. 

The dead flowers bloom as Mum's shikigami manifest, the echoes of the forest spirits clicking heads filling the otherwise quiet space. 

Mum places Tsumiki's favorite snacks and drinks, her framed photo, and incense on the stone tablet. Megumi traces her name while Mum lights the incense.

Mum offers a prayer, and Satoru joins her. Megumi doesn't participate; what's the point? A divine being is bound to his soul through blood, vows, and incantations. This did nothing to save Tsumiki.

"Hi Tsumiki," Mum begins, "We brought a visitor. His name is Gojo Satoru, Megumi's beau. Guess what? Your brother," Megumi wipes his face of all emotion. He does not deserve that title. "Is getting married. Can you believe it?"

Death is infinite, but there are ways to circumvent it. Souls that linger are more likely to become curses, while those that depart reincarnate or become what they once were and always have been, or they become caught in the in-between. Tsumiki's soul is long gone, but it brings his mother comfort. 

Satoru indulges them and participates in this habit.

"Hi Tsumiki," Megumi wonders what he sees. Six Eyes perceives the unseen and the void. What nightmares lurk outside curses? "We missed each other, but I promise to take care of your otouto."

It's his turn, Megumi swallows, his throat suddenly dry. These yearly excursions usually leave him melancholic and filled with a sense of profound guilt despite the strides he's taken to fulfill his penance. 

Tsumiki is the second reason for his self-imposed exile from sorcery. 

The powers of a god do not, in fact, make him a god, and his hubris led to Tsumiki's death. 

"Hi Tsumiki. You'll be happy to know that Mai still wants to commit world domination." Mum snorts. "Maki is still a headstrong, little shit." Satoru snickers. "Dad is still annoying Jinichi-oji-san and enjoying retirement," Megumi feels the familiar burn of tears and clenches his jaw. It's not fair, it wasn't fair then, it isn't fair now. Why do the good die young? What has he done to deserve a full life when Tsumiki's life was cut short? Back then, it was one loss after another, another blow that his fragile heart couldn't take. Tears blur his vision, and he weeps, "I...I miss you and I wish you were here and I'm so sorry I couldn't save you." 

Mum's eyes widen, and they reach for him, but Satoru embraces him. Wraps him in strong arms and lets him feel his heartbeat. 

---

2006

He awakens in familiar environs.

The shadows lengthen in that evil moment between consciousness and unconsciousness, but Megumi is not afraid. There are eighteen eyes ready to blink open and shepherd him through the dark.

His dorm room is a home away from home. It serves as his safe haven, and right now, it is the only reason he has not spiraled.

The scent of himself, his parents, and that of his friends in his nest, but there's a new scent pervading it. It covers his skin, nearly melds into his own scent, and creates a potent concoction that left Megumi drunk on their shared pheromones. 

The owner of that scent is missing, and Megumi has to stop himself from reeling. 

This was inevitable. 

Megumi has been left alone, and his omega hangs on by a thread. Why did alpha leave? Did he displease alpha? Has alpha abandoned them? Did alpha find him wanting? 

The doubt festers and rots, but Megumi knows.

Damn the consequences, he said, but the consequences are here and he must pay the toll.

Chapter Text

2006

Should he call him?

Should he message him?

He left without a word.

Without a note.

He made sure he was dressed, encompassed in his nest, the evidence of their tryst wiped clean, their encounter nothing but a fever dream. The only trace of their union is the memory of their shared madness and the sweetness of his scent.

He left without a word, without a sign.

But what did he expect?

Perhaps clemency, perhaps munificence, perhaps even acknowledgement.

A chance to finally place words on the nebulous nature of their relationship.

A chance to conf-

But he left without a word, and the silence is deafening.

He is a fool, but he could call, he could text, put an end to this charade, demand an explanation, lay it all out in the light of day, to not go gentle or quiet in fear of the bridges he'll burn.

What does it matter? They've crossed the line.

Even if it... even if it means-

Even if it meant nothing to Gojo, it meant something to Megumi (it meant everything. Why did Satoru leave? After haunting his every step, demanding Megumi's attention, carving a place in his life until Megumi knew him by voice, scent, curse energy signature, the cadence of his steps, the shape of his shadow... What did this mean?

What does this mean?

What does this mean?

What does this mean? )

"Megumi."

"Megumi."

"Megumi!"

He jumps, eyes wide, clutching his heart, startled, "Yes!?"

"Where are you?" Nobara asks in concern and touches his arm. "We've been calling your name for like five minutes."

Megumi closes his eyes and urges his rapidly beating heart to still. Shiro and Kuro are pressed against his sides, anchoring him. Shiro whimpers and pushes its head into his belly.

Utahime-senpai eyes him speculatively. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he says reflexively.

Utahime-senpai and Nobara aren't convinced.

"Are you sure? You can sit this one out?" Utahime-senpai persists in her line of questioning.

Megumi feels irrational annoyance at the sudden spotlight put on him and opens his mouth to retort, then snaps it closed, feeling shame and anger roil through him.

Iori Utahime is in a transitional period. A year out from high school, one foot planted uncertainly in uni, determined to gain a reputable reputation, to carve out a space for herself despite knowing she will never have a seat at a table. Respect is earned, even if it's begrudgingly given, Utahime-senpai would take it and revel in her accomplishments even if they tried to attribute them to her mate.

Megumi and Nobara agreed to help Utahime-senpai fulfill her mission quota so she can demonstrate her leadership skills, adaptability, equanimity, and problem-solving abilities. Megumi is sabotaging that by ruminating on an alpha who got what he wanted and discarded him.

"No," Megumi shakes his head, "I'll-"

"Are you moping over Higuruma-kun?" Nobara interrupts.

Megumi is caught off guard by the question, "…What?"

"Tall, lanky, skunk hair, and cute," Nobara says slowly; she doesn't appreciate his sudden stupor.  "You know the guy you've been dating."

He quickly gathers his wits, and his eyes narrow. "Shut up, Nobara, it's not about him."

Utahime-senpai huffs, "Boyfriend troubles? Really Megumi? We're in the middle of a mission."

"Not my boyfriend," Megumi mutters mutinously.

"So, if it's not boy troubles, then maybe girl troubles," Nobara perks up. "Are they an alpha? That's not much different from dating boy alphas. If you need advice-"

"That's not it," He bites out.

Nobara frowns, "Then what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," Megumi denies.

"There's something wrong. You look constipated. You only make that expression when something's bothering you," Nobara contradicts.

"I do not look constipated!"

"You do!" Nobara smirks

"I. do. not!" Megumi grits out.

"You do," Nobara repeats with an infuriating shit eating smile.

"Stop arguing, children," Utahime-senpai interjects, none too impressed by their squabbling. "You're making fools of yourselves."

Megumi blushes in embarrassment, but Nobara, the shameless idiot that she is, reaches out and pinches Megumi's blooming cheeks. "He's so cute! It's a shame he's sulking over a boy."

Megumi pinches her in retaliation, but Nobara doesn't let go. "Naoya says you probably broke up with Higuruma-kun. Why didn't you tell me, Megumi? When did we start keeping secrets from each other?"

Guilt slams into him. He wants to tell her about Gojo, the full extent of their tumultuous dynamic, about the cat and mouse game they've played, the hunt Megumi can't decide if he or the alpha started, and the culmination of it all.

He's drowning.

"It's not him," He manages to get out, though the words are garbled.

She let go of his cheeks. "What?"

"It's not Higuruma-kun. It's something else."

That's all he'll say on the matter. Nobara is too close to the situation. Shoko is her girlfriend, even if they are on tentative terms; Suguru is her friend…

Suguru is their friend.

What the fuck has Megumi done?

He doesn't notice Nobara watching him speculatively, and sudden realization dawns on her, and she mouths, "Bright Eyes?"

Utahime-senpai catches it. She and Nobara exchange furtive looks.

2006

"Choose one."

Father pulls two lollipops out of his sleeve. Satoru grabs the strawberry lollipop, unraps it, and pops it into his mouth.

Father does the same. Lips puckering, he pulls the sucker out. "Sour apple."

Satoru pulls a face, "Yuck."

It's the first time they've seen each other in three months. They talk on the phone, but Father is busy.

He's always busy, but Satoru has his grandparents.

It's not the same.

Duty above all.

Father took that seriously. With older parents, he inherited young and did everything in his power to cement his position. Adopting Satoru was one decision in a long-term strategy. Sometimes Satoru thinks he's more of a game board piece than a son. He knows he is, but he holds out hope when these moments occur. When Gojo-sama is Dad.

"You've been busy," Father sounds delighted at the prospect of his mischief. "The elders are complaining, your aunt and uncle are bitching," Father rolls his eyes, and Satoru snickers. "What else is new? But your grandparents are pleased, and I'm supposed to be the neutral party."

"I should at least know what you're accusing me of."

"You know what you did," Father tries and fails to sound stern.

"Me?" Satoru points to himself. "Innocent me?"

"Your sweetheart, Suguru," Father begins speculatively; Satoru tenses. "When you asked us to consider him, we thought it was a passing fancy, but you're keen on him." Father reaches out and takes his hands. "If your heart is set on him, I won't object."

"Grandsire and Grandmother like him," Satoru says quietly.

"They can't stop singing his praises," Father agrees. "His parents... that's something to be discussed another day. I'll reserve my judgment until I meet them. When can I meet Suguru?"

When can he?

Who knows.

Satoru is a train wreck.

He's setting fires, throwing the match away, and watching the bridges he's built burn.

He doesn't know what to do. Each choice seems to feed the fire and leave ruin in its wake.

"I don't know," He answers truthfully. "He's having second thoughts."

"Oh? What happened?" Father asks in concern. He's still Dad, not Gojo-sama. Satoru can confide in him, so Satoru tells him.

"He told him?" Father questions.

Satoru nods.

"Did you clarify it?"

He nods again.

"That didn't help?"

Satoru shakes his head.

"Continue," Father bids him.

When he's done, Father sits down and sighs heavily. Satoru feels unburdened, but anticipates Father's response. Satoru seldom experiences his anger or disappointment, so when his silence prevails, Satoru tries to fortify himself.

"Were you safe? Did you use protection?"

He fails.

Satoru blanches. Did he? He can't remember; he panics, "No! But-but we're both on suppressants."

"Are you sure?" Father presses.

He doesn't know. That wasn't on his mind; he was consumed by thoughts of Megumi. MegumiMegumiMegumi, but he thinks and recalls: "Er, yeah, he uses the same brand as Suguru."

"Confirm that," Father orders. Gojo-sama creeps in; he is furious.

"I can't," Satoru says plaintively. "He'll kill me."

"Figure it out," Father demands, uncaring of his plight. "If you wanted him, you should have said so. This idiocy could have been avoided. We initiated preliminary discussions with Zen'in-dono regarding a potential bridal candidate. We would have pushed harder if we knew. "

That's news to Satoru, but it doesn't matter.

Megumi was never a choice; he was a compulsion.

(He is a liar.)

"He's heir, the Zen'in would never allow it, and I would never take away his choice."

Father gives him a hard stare. "So Suguru? You're hellbent on him, even after this?"

Satoru nods.

Father shakes his head. "I'm severely disappointed in you, but given your callous disregard of others, I don't think you care. If this is what you want, then so be it."

Instead of humbling himself, Satoru smiles arrogantly. "I am my father's son."

Chapter Text

2006

Sometimes he wonders if there's something seriously wrong with him.
 
Probably.
 
Maybe.
 
There definitely is.
 
It becomes tedious and tiring. 

It's dull, it's all so boring.

Why should he care, why does he have to exercise his empathy, why should he give a damn, why, why, why, why? Then something infernal stirs, blinks open and turns to stare back with unblinking eyes, a reflection of himself, inhuman and empyrean and insidiously mocks his thoughts: why should he care? They're all dust compared to them.
 
Them. 
 
Them. 
 
Satoru ignores it. It's him and it's not. It's the part of him that marks him as other.
 
He's human, he reminds himself, but other times he wonders if he's not. 
 
Why else would he be like this?
 
Maybe it's an excuse, but other times Satoru can't bring himself to care. He just doesn't care.
 
He does care.
 
He feels too much.
 
But, like whatever. 
 
What the fuck is he supposed to do? Everyone wants something from him. Father wants the perfect heir, his family wants the ultimate trump card and playing piece, the government wants a weapon and a figurehead for propaganda. His classmates want a friend, his senpai want his respect and admiration, his kohai want his acknowledgement, and the teachers and staff want to use him.

They all want the fucking glory.
 
Suguru wants a perfect alpha and Megumi-
 
Satoru closes his eyes and sighs.
 
Any idiot can see that Suguru is struggling. Grief ravages him and leaves him desolate. Satoru thought he'd get over it. They've seen death in all its gruesome glory and dealt the death blow. What was so different about Amanai Riko? It was a noble sacrifice, at least that was what it was paraded as. Yeah, sure, there's an alternative to the star plasma vessel, but it's all the same — human sacrifice. The shit Tengen and her lackeys outlawed, but that's the very thing that keeps her tethered to the earth; otherwise, she'd take her place as a kami in the great beyond. 
 
Was the alternative something Suguru should have known? Of course not; that's a clan secret. Even if it's an open one, it's not readily available knowledge. Fucking Megumi just had to step in and-
 
Satoru rubs his face in exasperation.
 
Amanai's death should have been another tally, another faceless death in a slew of those who came, will be, and never known. Satoru met her, spent time with her, and accepted her inevitable passing with ease. He expected Suguru to do the same, same shit, different day. 
 
It did not go as expected.
 
Suguru was infatuated with Amanai. At least the idea of her. Satoru got it; he said nothing, thought it was cute, and saw the appeal. She was a tragic figure, doe-eyed, with a pretty smile. Dedicated to her cause, faithful, bright, cheerful, and full of life, that was cut short. 
 
She was full of potential. 
 
Too bad she was a star plasma vessel. 
 
The Gojo do not sacrifice their own; the family always comes first, others be damned. Why would they spare a girl wholly unconnected to them to offer up one of their own for the slaughter?
 
This is information Suguru would have learned once he married into the Gojo. 
 
It's not information he should learn from a stranger. Friend or not, Megumi overstepped.
 
So it's up to him to fix this misdeed. 
 
Fuck.
 
Megumi...
 
When Satoru met Suguru, he knew, he saw how life could unfold, all the variables, and thought, yeah, why not, I'd like to do life with you, and consigned himself to it. 
 
Then he met Megumi.
 
He was drawn in, and despite his easy loyalty and devotion to Suguru, he found himself diverted.
 
Then his heart wavered.

2023

Their marriage contract stipulates that heats and ruts are for reproduction. This heat was scheduled months before consideration, negotiations, and acceptance of the terms and conditions of their marriage. Sure, he could have rescheduled, but that would have interrupted his estrus cycle. For omegas, reproductive health impacts their overall well-being, encompassing physical, economic, and social aspects of their lives. 

Megumi wants children and though his physical well-being was often taxed by the long hours he worked and commuted to work, he still valued himself enough to ensure he took care of his health and that meant staying on top of his suppressants, tracking his heat cycles, and take the requisite time to have an unmedicated heat, even though his employer begrudgingly gave him this time off, they were legally required to.

Megumi takes off his cleaning gloves and wipes his brow; that's one section of the house cleaned. It isn't needed; they've hired the same cleaning service that cleaned his apartment, but Megumi is nesting.

This heat supersedes their contract, and though intimacy is negotiable, Megumi and Satoru have both agreed this heat will be spent separately.

Megumi's motivations are troubling, and Satoru is conflicted with revelations of their shared past. Heat is a time of vulnerability; sharing it with an alpha shows unmitigated trust, and it serves as a test for a potential mate. 

Does Megumi trust Satoru?  

To an extent, but he hardly trusts himself around the alpha.

Megumi gathers his cleaning supplies and heads upstairs. He pauses outside of the room Satoru forbade him from entering. It goes against his instincts, but he will acquiesce to his request even though he knows what the room holds. 

The next week will be hell.

Chapter Text

2006

"How are you feeling?"

Megumi shrugs, though they can't see. He doesn't know how he feels, maybe a bit more numb. He actually likes that feeling.

"I dunno, I don't feel any different."

"Any racing thoughts, bad thoughts, or mood swings?" Mum asks worriedly.

"No," He lies through his teeth.

Megumi's struggle with mental health isn't new; he's ashamed of it. What is there to fear? What imaginary foe stalks his thoughts and emotions? Why does he fall into the deepest pits of despair only to rise up and fall again?

Even the mighty are fallible.

His sudden depression and anxiety are a recent development. His deteriorating mental health was identified immediately by his parents as a change in behavior that alarmed and worried them. Dad blamed his mood swings on growing pains, familial pressure, and other exacerbating factors. Mum thought the same, but thought it was a deeper issue.

They were both correct.

Though urged to take a break, temporarily or permanently, Megumi chose the third option, the deeper issue.

"It's been three weeks," Mum says more to themself than him. "Your doctor said it can take six to twelve weeks to see a difference."

What's for the gander isn't necessarily for the goose. The new suppressants on the market have been met with rave reviews, bringing relief to omegas like Suguru that struggle with a complicated estrus cycle and regulating the hormones of pre-estropause omegas like Fushiguro Kai. Unfortunately for Megumi, these suppressants did not work in his favor, and he suffered a few of the many symptoms associated with this new prescription drug.

Kai quickly petitioned Megumi's doctor to switch his suppressants. That's the easy part; the hard part is the impact on his hormones. Hormones significantly influence brain function and mood regulation. He's taken this brand of suppressants since he presented; he should go back to normal, but Megumi doesn't know what normal is anymore.

"My head feels clearer," He lies to reassure Mum.

They brighten, "Do you? That's great. Are you coming home this weekend?"

Megumi is going home, but not the home he shares with his parents, no, the ancestral home. In these moments of uncertainty and distress, Megumi loses himself in his shadows, and what better place than to do it than the place that welcomes him like an old friend.

"Next weekend, if I don't have a mission. Uncle wants me to visit. Duty calls."

"I can call him and ask him to reschedule," Mum offers.

The pressure for a "legitimate heir" doesn't faze Zen'in Jinichi; he has Megumi as a placeholder. But his wife bears the burden of their infertility with the increasing demands for her to be set aside and for Jinichi to take a concubine to bear a legitimate heir. It's archaic and banned in modern Japan, but their government picks and chooses which laws to follow, and polygamy remains a practice, even if it is losing favor with the younger generations.

Megumi doesn't want to become Zen'in clan head; he's content with access to their archives and weapons inventory, and if continued access requires masquerading as Zen'in heir, then so be it.

"No, thank you. Uncle will think I'm shirking my responsibilities again."

"If you're sure."

"I am," Megumi replies.

"Okay, call us if you need anything. Stop by during the week; your dad misses your face. Love you."

"Love you, too."

Megumi hangs up and then stares at his phone screen.

It's been two weeks. He hasn't called or texted him, and Megumi made no attempt to reach out either.

He's scared.

He's terrified.

The message is clear, but what if?

Megumi does something stupid.

Megumi does something brave.

Megumi damns the consequences.

Me: Can we talk?

Chapter Text

"You don't mind?"

Megumi stares blankly at his mobile.

Gojo: Yeah.

Me: When and where?

Gojo: I'll let you know.

This is the nth time in 48 hours that he's looked at his phone.

It's pathetic.

So pathetic.

This is what he's reduced to. 

Waiting anxiously for a kind word, gesture, or glance from the person he fancies. No matter how minuscule or meaningless.

Pathetic.

He's an omega desperate for an alpha's attention. An alpha that belongs to someone else, who calls someone else mine while he is his. An alpha who finally got what he wanted from a momentary distraction. 

But he still holds out hope. For what? Clarification? Maybe closure. 

What closure? He doesn't deserve it in the wake of such betrayal. 

Suguru simply exists, and Gojo orbits around him.

And Megumi.

Well, Megumi opened his legs, he whored himself, played the slag, and got nothing.

He is nothing.

Absolutely fucking nothi-

"Megumi!"

Megumi's head snaps up, and he blinks.

"Yeah?"

He's been doing that lately. 

Disassociating, falling into the hellish depths of his mind, and contemplating his failings and shortcomings. Lost in a sea of despair, tugged down into the abyss, choking on disparaging thoughts and self-flagellation.

Mum thinks it's his suppressants, Megumi knows what it is, the suppressants probably exaggerated it, but Megumi knows why.

"Are you okay?" Naoya questions him, looking up with an arched eyebrow. 

That question has become commonplace where he is concerned. 

Megumi snaps his mobile closed. "Yes."

They are in his dorm, sat in his nest. Naoya lies on his back, head on Megumi's lap. They're going home tonight, and Megumi can't wait.

Naoya is dubious, "Did you hear what I said?"

"Yes,"  Megumi says again.

"You're okay with hanging out with my friends?"

"Yeah," Megumi answers, exasperated. "Why would that be a problem?"

"Hisashi will be there," Naoya warns him.

Megumi rolls his eyes, "I'm not seeing the problem."

"He's bringing the boy he's dating," Naoya reveals. 

Megumi shrugs, "Okay."

Naoya stares, "Damn, Megumi. Sometimes I forget how cold-blooded you are."

Is that what it is?

He thinks he gets it.

He smiles mirthlessly.

Suguru is the sun, Megumi is the moon. Who wants to bask in the cold, dark night when the day offers warmth and light?

Unbeknownst to him, his scent sours, becomes acrid and bitter. 

"Megumi!? You're not okay-"

Megumi's door opens, and Nobara bursts in, harried and anxious, "Megumi S.O.S! Shoko's coming, I repeat-"

She stops dead in her tracks and shouts, alarmed, "Megumi!?" 

---

"You wanted to talk?"

Of course, this would happen in the aftermath of an omega drop. 

Naoya hovers. 

Nobara lingers uncertainly.

Megumi feels nothing.

"Yeah." He hears himself say. He doesn't feel like himself; his body moves stiffly, like a puppet, awkward and stilted. 

Naoya stops him, "Megumi, are you sure?"

"Yeah," He says again.

It's surreal, an out-of-body experience. 

He's felt trapped inside his body for so long, and bottling his emotions culminated in an omega drop. 

Now he's watching himself, center stage in a play of his own making. 

Melancholia still grips him, threatening to drag him back into its bleak depths. Desolation clings to him, making every step heavy and sluggish. 

Nobara tries to stop him, "Maybe you should-"

"Let's go outside."

Megumi doesn't spare Gojo a glance. He walks out of the dorm common room and into the adjoining hall. 

The alpha follows.

Megumi feels nothing.

Nothing can damage him more than he's damaged himself. What can the words of the alpha that wrecked his perception of his self-esteem, confidence, and self-worth do to him?

Chapter Text

2006

He's kind this time, Megumi notes.

This approach is foreign. 

It reminds him of the early days of their acquaintance. 

"Suguru is having a harder time."

Megumi nods numbly, eyes downcast, arms crossed. He's hugging himself, shielding himself against the onslaught brought on by his reality.

"We should keep this between us."

Megumi nods again. 

He's not there; he's an observer, watching himself. That shadow-self that nods stupidly, that has no voice, that shrinks into itself. 

"Suguru is someone I lo-care for." Megumi closes his eyes and fights tears. "He's someone we both care about, that's why we should forget what happened. It was a lapse in judgment."

He notes that kindness is not directed at him. He is not the subject of his concern and care. He is not deemed worthy of his consideration and time.

No, this alpha has gotten what he wanted, and he has no use for him now.

"By the way, do you use the same suppressants as Suguru? I didn't ask-"

Something snaps, breathes life back into him, and Megumi is cast back into his body. "Why should I?"

Gojo is caught off guard, he cocks his head, "...What?"

"Why should I agree to this? Suguru isn't the only victim," Megumi continues, voice rising with each word. "You've stalked, hunted me down-"

"No, Megumi, you're not a victim," Satoru admonishes, tone condescending. "You're a willing accomplice."

"An accomplice!?" Megumi repeats incredulously. "I was hunted, chased down, there's was no shelter, no way to escape you! You got what you wanted and now you want to forget it!"

Gojo is unmmoved, "Suguru's feelings matter, he's all that-"

"So your solution is to lie to Suguru!?" Megumi demands. "To what? Save face! Save your relationship when we-"

"It was nothing." 

"It was enough-"

"It meant nothing," Gojo snarls, using the alpha voice. 

Megumi fights it and bites out, "It meant something." 

He's suddenly seized by a mighty fist and shoved bodily against the building. Megumi chokes and gasps for air, but the unforgiving fist squeezes tight. Megumi claws at his fingers and fights against the black spots that cloud his vision, the gray blurring the edges, and sees hues of blue glittering with malice. 

"This would be so much easier if you weren't you," He laments, tone almost wistful, and he abruptly lets go, cradling his neck and nape.

Megumi doesn’t notice.

He freezes, and then catches a second wind. He rears his head back and launches a decisive blow. Headbutting Gojo, feeling the crush of cartilage and bone and reveling in the satisfying crunch of a broken nose and grunt of pain. 

The poignant pain of his inflicted injury means nothing. Blood coats his forehead, but Megumi's smile is all vicious glee. 

Gojo clutches his broken nose, pale skin smeared with red, unholy blue eyes glowing, an unknown emotion on his face. 

"Fuck you," Megumi hisses.  

Chapter Text

2016

He felt this once.

Years ago, when he sought enlightenment, and it evaded him.

It was a monstrous presence that began with a degree of death and announced its arrival with all the pomp and circumstance of a creature banished from the abyss, summoned forth to bring a reckoning.

This is similar, this is different.

It exhilarated him then, and it intrigues him now. 

Where that cursed energy threatened to devour all in an endless black hole when unleashed. This cursed energy is controlled, a subtle presence, but potent nonetheless. Possessing a sinister quality that even gives Satoru pause.

It's corrosive; it eats the residual curse around it. Satoru has never seen anything like it, but he has encountered this cursed signature before.

Twice.

But it fed what existed, tarnished its surroundings when unsealed, wreaked havoc, and led to atrocities across the centuries. 

This is different, it feasts on what exists.

He pauses, but remains undaunted. Six Eyes sends a constant loop of information to him, presenting a series of possibilities, the likelihood of them happening, and probable outcomes. Satoru naturally draws hypotheses and conclusions, but he likes surprises.

What an interesting turn of events.

He continues on his trek, and once he reaches his location, he comes across a rather mundane sight. 

It's a park.

A remote park.

A little girl plays in the field adjacent to the playground, picking flowers, a crown of flowers on her head. 

A little boy is pushed on one of the swings. The man who pushes him is the epicenter of the cursed signature.

And there on a park bench is Nanami Kento, dressed for once in his definition of casual clothes. 

"Nanamin!" He greets with a jaunty wave. 

The stick up Nanami's ass doesn't make an appearance, for once, he is at ease, despite the insidious threat his companion barely contains. 

That man pushing the toddler with his coloring is more curse than man. 

He thought human experimentation was banned. Someone belongs on the naughty list.

His soul is too large for his physical form, in that he reminds him of himself. Satoru's soul is the remnant of a primordial concept, some abstract manifestation imprisoned in mortal coil. 

That man's soul fluctuates, unstable, barely contained. It hungers like it's cursed energy.  

"Gojo," Nanami greets in his usual aloof manner, politely stands from his seat, and gives a formal nod of his head.

Satoru has no such compunctions; formalities are reserved for business, and Satoru is at the receiving end of them. Nanami is a friend, so he treats him as one. He hugs his stiff form and laughs when he lets out a noise of resignation. 

Nanami has little tolerance for Satoru's antics and stiffly pushes him away. 

Satoru pouts. 

"Can't you comport yourself?" Nanami admonishes with resigned fondness. "Do you have to act like a child?"

Satoru sticks out his tongue, "Kill joy."

"Nobara warned me, I should learn to listen to her," A voice interjects in wry amusement. 

Nanamin's companion approaches, toddler in his arms.

"You two bicker like school children. I doubt you've had a productive conversation in years," Nanami's flat voice delivers a droll observation that elicits a deep chuckle from his companion.

"The woods witch is more bark than bite," He speaks with a curious mix of old and modern Japanese, it's oddly poetic. 

The toddler stares curiously at the newcomer. Golden eyes wide, pink hair windswept, pale cheeks ruddy. 

"From your ears to the gods. She'll use you like a voodoo doll."

Nanami's companion clicks his tongue, "She told you about that?"

"No, Shoko-senpai did." Is Nanami smiling?

"Evil wench," Nanami's companion mutters mutinously. "They swore to take that to the grave."

Nanami shakes his head, "Nobara-senpai probably crossed her fingers."

Nanami's companion looks like he wants to curse, but glances down at his son and thinks better of it. "Never mind her, introduce me. We've been quite rude."

"Gojo Satoru," Nanami says without preamble, "Itadori Yuuji." 

"Nice to meetcha!" Satoru greets insouciantly. "Did you know your soul is incomplete?"

Heterochromia eyes blink, one gold, one red, and a sharp grin carves his lips. "Yes, I'm on the hunt for it."

2023

Satoru is bored.

He is not without purpose, but since he's delegated many of his responsibilities, his open schedule presents a conundrum.

Free time.

He's picked up the hobbies he rarely has time to indulge in, but most of his free time was dedicated to his wife.

Megumi.

He misses him, and it's only been a day. They've spent time apart, but that was out of necessity. This separation was mutually decided on, a design of their own making. He understands Megumi's reasons, he agrees with many of them, and is struggling with his own issues. 

It doesn't mean he has to like it.

The last thing he wants is for Megumi to go through his heat alone, especially when he is responsible for the distress he's felt. Omegas should feel at ease during their time, enjoying a sensuous experience guided and cared for by an alpha they trust. However, the intense emotional and mental connection that comes with heat is incompatible with the current state of their relationship. Fucking isn't an issue, but fucking without the trust he's worked so hard to establish cheapens it.

Megumi got pregnant. Megumi miscarried. Megumi went through the heartbreak of rejection, navigated the probability of parenthood as a child himself, and went through the anguish of losing it.

Satoru purposefully but unknowingly caused the miscarriage; he knows it. No matter how resilient Megumi was, he was left to carry the burden alone.

Satoru wanted to start over, do right by him, make amends, prove himself as a husband and, eventually, maybe, hopefully, a mate. 

But to know the truth of what his actions culminated in, Satoru has to wonder how do they go about repairing their relationship.

Why not give Megumi his wish? He wants a baby to make up for his perceived failing. Doesn't Satoru owe him that much? 

But where does that leave him?

Satoru mourns for an unknown. His self-loathing has returned, and he secretly contemplates walking away despite Megumi's plea for him to stay.

Walking away is the same as running away. Isn't that what he did seventeen years ago? He was a coward then, and he's a coward now.

Love is supposed to be as easy as breathing, but in the realm of love, Satoru has always made things more complicated than they needed to be.

He wants Megumi.

He has to earn him.

Chapter Text

2016

The devil is a family man.

Satoru finds that ironic; many would find him to be the devil, but they come in many forms.

"Papa, not that one, that one!"

Evil is capable of love, or perhaps its compartmentalization, enabling a chameleon to separate family life from its acts of violence.

Itadori Yuuji points to another snack. It is the wrong one; the toddler stomps her foot in frustration.

Is that what Satoru is? A chameleon?

Didn't he don sheep's clothing and wave a white flag? Expand his great game of subterfuge to embrace his own selfish desires?

It didn't get him the results he wanted. A mate, but a blocked bond, the future he desired and childishly clung to, thwarted before it could ever begin.

But this devil has everything he aspired for.

In this devil, he sees what could have been, and what he hoped for still in his heart of hearts. A foolish thought, when he effortlessly proved his will was greater and that a bond could not sway his thoughts or emotions.

He has to wonder if he had chosen a different path, would it be like this?

"Show papa," Yuuji directs the toddler and picks her up.

This devil has revealed his family, welcomed the enemy into his home, and shown his Achilles' heel; such a vulnerability can be exploited. Satoru is unscrupulous enough to do it. He says as much and garners a reaction he did not expect.

"I know," Yuuji replies and grabs the snack the pup points to. "I did it as an act of goodwill. I trust Kento and believe he wouldn't endanger me or my family." 

"What if he did?" Satoru dances merrily on the precipice of danger and madness. He's morbidly curious,  especially as he watches this devil's dichotomous behavior.

Yuuji's answering grin is downright vicious; it changes when he puts down his daughter and kisses her forehead. "I would have killed him and feasted on his flesh."

That was a probability he thought of, but dismissed it. "You don't eat people," He states rather than questions.

"My taste for human flesh lives in my memories. I dine on curses instead; it quenches my hunger."

He thought of that as well, and it seemed more likely. His supposition was correct.

"However, given the right motivation, I would do it again," Itadori Yuuji said casually. "I don't fear you, godling. I'd happily feast on your corpse if it meant protecting my family."

Satoru thought so.

There are many things he can predict when he unburdenes himself of all earthly desires.

"How'd you meet Nanamin?"

"Through mutual friends. You know Kugisaki Nobara and Fushiguro Megumi?"

Satoru doesn't react outwardly, but he swears his heart skips a beat.

He hasn't heard that name in eight years.

---

2023

"How are you?" He stares absently out the window. The skyscrapers of Marunouchi, Chiyoda ward, lay sprawled out before him.

This is their Tokyo office, he spends three to four of his work days here.  There is a Kyoto office, but the Tokyo location is their headquarters. Since he and Megumi are settled in Kyoto, he'll make the Kyoto office his home base and perhaps start working from home.

"Irritated," Megumi grouses. " It's late."

He can imagine why.

"I'm sorry, has that happened before?"

"No," Megumi gripes, "My heats are consistent."

He smiles, he images the cute, unhappy smile that curls his pretty lips. A pout more than anything. The scrunch of his nose. The flash of his green, green eyes as he expresses his ire.

"What do you think changed?"

He knows what changed.

"Nothing, stress could be a factor, but that's nothing new."

"Let me rephrase that: what has changed in your environment?"

Megumi sighs, "This isn't my first time alone or with an alpha, why would that change anything?"

Trust Megumi to follow his vague question and come to the correct conclusion, or at least one close enough to it.

"With a compatible alpha?" Satoru questions, leading the omega to the adjacent answer.

"...that makes sense."

They've always connected on a base level.

Their chemistry, as alpha and omega, sparked the moment they met.

Megumi blows his mongrel mind.

Alphas and omegas are creatures of scent, touch, and taste. Their dynamics are instinctual, fueled by the need to claim, fuck, and breed.

Their compatibility was established the moment they met and grew with each encounter.

"Do you want me to scent you?" He offers.

"No," Megumi rebuffs him immediately.

Satoru smiles. Megumi is obstinate and fastidious. He'll rarely accept help, but is quick to offer it. Satoru is slowly but surely softening him. He can't be there to guide and see to his needs during his heat, but he can still care for him in other ways.

"Why not?" He lilts, soft and coaxing, "Let me do this for you."

"That will lead to a new set of problems," Megumi firmly counters.

"This may resolve a few of them," He parries.

"If you come home," Megumi says, a threat, a promise, "you're not leaving."

He did not expect that, lust familiar and welcome clouds his mind, and he clears his throat, "I see your predicament."

"Do you?" Megumi says slowly. "Why would I settle for toys when I can have the real thing, hm?"

That's preheat speaking, but the temptation to render their agreement null and void weighs heavy on him. "Megumi, I'm patient, but I'm not a saint. Don't tempt me."

"Is it temptation when it's your's to have?"

Satoru makes a strangled noise.

"I'm hanging up."

Megumi is amused, "Don't make an offer that doesn't include fucking me, alpha."

That's preheat speaking, Satoru reminds himself.

Meg is losing his inhibitions.

Chapter Text

2016 

It's a macabre sight.

Satoru watches with morbid curiosity, but Nanamin is unaffected.

Where Suguru's technique transformed defeated curses into orbs of curse energy for him to consume, Yuuji neatly lashes curses into consumable pieces and eats them raw and bloody. 

He's tempted to poke a twitching limb.

He's seen his share of cursed carcasses courtesy of Shoko, 

Satoru gives in to the temptation and pokes it. It sprouts claws and tries to attack him despite its head currently in the gut of one Itadori Yuuji. 

"Nobara says she's open to the idea."

"What about Megumi-senpai?"

That catches his attention again. 

"He's busy; Megu isn't interested and would be a last resort."

He wants to ask what Megumi is up to. How has he been? Why is he busy? Why isn't he interested? 

"His technique would be ideal for this," Nanamin states.

It would; Megumi pushed the limits with his technique. The mutation made it unpredictable, and that fascinated him. 

"It would, but Megumi is pigheaded and once he's made up his mind, it's hard to persuade him otherwise," Yuuji says fondly. "He'll be a lookout, but don't expect much else from him." 

But does he have the right to ask?

No, he doesn't.

So he banishes it from his mind.

Sleep eludes him.

It's not like he got much to begin with, but his habits are changing. 

This bed is lacking; it once sufficed, served its purpose. Large and spacious, rarely used, a space filler, a place where he lays his head and takes power naps when his weary mind needs respite. 

Now he sleeps in the remnants of a nest made weeks ago, attempting to catch the vestiges of Megumi's scent. 

He's become accustomed to sleeping with a restless sleeper. Cuddling has become second nature; he likes the closeness, the feel of skin against skin, the shared warmth, and the mingling of their scents. The feel of Megumi's cursed energy, a constant stream that formed his shikigami and played an integral role in the omega's nest, is enough for him to let go of his vigilance and release Infinity. 

He misses it. 

Intimacy is hard for him. To let others close requires trust he rarely extends to those beyond his carefully guarded circle. Infinity exists as a barrier between him and the world at large, and at some point, he realized it served not just as an absolute defense but as a shield against probable betrayal. 

With Megumi, he cherishes intimacy in any form. Their rapport has set him at ease, quieting his mind, and bringing tranquility to his soul, bridging the divide between his humanity and divinity. 

Without Megumi, it appears that sleep is a futile endeavor, and that leaves him with more time on his hands. 

There are things he can do to fill the time.

He has two more days of work, but a three-day weekend makes the rest of the week feel bleak and dreary. 

He can visit Shoko and catch up, drop in on Yuuji and spend time with little Satoshi, or round up his cousins and celebrate the birthday of their latest family member. 

It's not the same. 

He misses Megumi. 

His deep, encompassing loneliness was something he quietly accepted. Even when he dated his ex, he understood the expectations placed on them and resigned himself to a loveless marriage. At least he would have some form of companionship. 

He misses Megumi. 

Satoru checks his mobile.

There are three messages from Megumi.

He quickly opens their chat. 

Two texts and one voice note.

Megumi ♡ (ɔˆз(ˆ⌣ˆc): Please stop by Utahime-senpai's and Mei-senpai's and give them this: (link). I ordered several items, they'll be delivered to you on Thursday. Please give them that as well.

He figured as much. Mei and Utahime had their baby late last month and were now allowing visitors. The list is limited to close friends and immediate family. Megumi is close to Utahime, and Satoru considers Mei one of the few family members he can tolerate. 

Megumi must have received an invitation, and while compromised, he thought to send Satoru in his stead. 

He can do that. He planned to take Mei and their cousins out and celebrate her second foray into parenthood. 

The second message makes his heart stutter.

Megumi ♡ (ɔˆз(ˆ⌣ˆc):  I miss you. 

He types: 'I miss you too (´ ˘ `).｡oO (♡).'

Then he listens to the voice message, and his eyes widen.

Megumi ♡ (ɔˆз(ˆ⌣ˆc):  "It's st-tarted."

He sounds breathy and needy, and that immediately sets his teeth on edge. It doesn't take much for him where Megumi is concerned.

Megumi ♡ (ɔˆз(ˆ⌣ˆc): "I miss you a-alpha, but I'll see you in a few days. D-don't call unless you plan to do something about this."

Fuck.

That's dangerous.

That's an invitation.

Or a test.

Chapter Text

"Add that to the schedule."

Satoru puts his laptop in his backpack, checks his email on his mobile, and quickly replies to an urgent message.

"Okay."

"Tell Chitose and Einosuke, I'm working from the Kyoto office tomorrow. Reschedule the Monday stand-ups for tomorrow. Let Kyouya know we're rolling out the updates on Monday-"

"Er," his personal assistant says hesitantly. "Didn't you say you were stepping back and letting Mina-senpai handle those meetings"?

"Pen it in," Satoru instructs as if he did not hear him. He puts on his backpack and frowns at his phone screen. "I'll email the schedule changes I want."

"Gojo-dono," Kiyooka Mitsugu addresses him formally, the shift of his voice severe but deferential. "Overloading your work schedule will interfere with your other duties. I urge you to consider the time constraints and manpower-"

Exasperated, Satoru rolls his eyes, furiously types out a message in a Line Works chat, and says, "Okay, okay, whatever."

His assistant and distant relative brightens, "Great! Let's not regress and strive for progress!"

Annoying and overeager, but an effective assistant, Satoru overlooks his cheek and insolent comments. They are harmless and usually done in private.

"...Curb your enthusiasm," He mutters.

"Aye, aye, sir!" Kiyooka Mitsugu salutes. "See you next week!"

Satoru waves him off.

There is no rest for the wicked, and the evil do not sleep.

Out of his office, past the eight cubicles, he vaguely acknowledges his employees' greetings, heads to the elevator, and goes down to the parking garage. 

Marunouchi to Shoto, Shibuya is a 20 to 30 minute drive depending on traffic. Satoru didn't appreciate the routine of driving until he was in his late twenties. That commute is a chance to decompress despite the ability to manipulate time and space.

Satoru doesn't want the respite. Any amnesty granted from his grueling schedule draws him back into thoughts of Megumi, and as much as he wants to harken the omega's siren's call. He knows the truth of it; it's just heat speaking, and perhaps vindictiveness. Megumi is occasionally fueled by spite.

He won't go back on his word. He once took without thought or consideration, cruel and unfeeling, leaving Megumi a wreck in his wake. To revert to old behaviors despite the invitation made is a grievous affront to him, but also to the husband he swore to be to Megumi.

Megumi will take it as rejection, his instincts at the forefront, skewing his rationality, rendering him an insatiable appetite, but when he returns from the throes of fever and heat, the omega will understand.

Satoru presses his forehead against the steering wheel and inhales and exhales. He has a headache, the constant strain of Six Eyes, the tension as the days slowly pass by, the fight against his instincts as an alpha, the longing to see Megumi, and the prospect of the long hours ahead contribute to it.

He filters out the superfluous noise and finds a moment of silence filled with the sounds of his breathing. 

It's gone as soon as it begins, and he puts the sedan in reverse.

The commute allows him to gather his thoughts.

Yuuta is undergoing a prenatal paternity test on Friday. Tomorrow, he has a meeting with Father and the elders to determine eligible heirs. This afternoon, he's meeting two family members to discuss the exchange program for the Colleges and the recent changes in legislation.

But first, he's visiting Shoko.

---

His apartment serves as one of several focal points around the country. With the introduction of CCTV, Satoru was taught to use precaution, not for himself, but for the public, the masses that be. Teleportation causes technological disruptions; anything out of the sphere of Infinity risk disrupting the power grid if not carefully executed. Even within the barrier of Infinity, amid one step and the next, technology is rendered temporarily null and void.

He steps into his apartment, then takes another and steps into their Kyoto office in the Shimogyō ward. He drops off his backpack, and compresses the distance between this focal point and the next via point of convergence and teleports.

Kyoto Metropolitan Curse Technical College is located in the Ukyo ward of Kyoto City. Shoko works between the Tokyo and Kyoto campuses, traveling via wormholes between the two locations.

It's a seal.

Talismans are meant to seal; they are the written form of Tengen-sama's natural ability. As a member of her clan, barriers are a Gojo specialty; Satoru, however, altered it. Teleportation is a ritual like all curse techniques; he committed incantation to medium and imbued it with a vestige of his infinite curse energy. 

This should be a permanent solution, but like talismans, it degrades. A cursed tool would be able to handle the degradation, but anchoring it to this plane of existence would create a special grade object that could be exploited. 

So once a month, Satoru reforges the seal and spends an hour catching up with Shoko if time permits. 

"Shoko!"

It's an common sight he comes upon. 

Gloved hands buried in the corpse of a preserved curse, Shoko doesn't look up from her coroner examination. "Satoru," she greets lackadaisically, but there's fondness. 

Shoko's cursed technique is RCT, at least that was what she was willing to divulge. RCT does not put bodies into a temporary stasis, RCT doesn't temporarily halt the effects of death, RCT doesn't allow curse energy to solidify and become short swords and knives. 

Shoko isn't a powerhouse, she is the killer in the crowd. 

"Have you had lunch yet?" He bounces back and forth from heel to toe. 

He's giddy. 

He has high hopes. 

He hopes they can rekindle the friendship they had in their youth. 

They're not as close as they used to be; the bond between them fractured when Suguru defected and became a notorious fugitive. It cracked and splintered into fissures with Satoru's inaction and hesitation, the potential endangerment of Shoko's family, Suguru's ruthless recruitment of Shoko, and the courtship and seduction of Satoru. 

The blue spring of their youth was firmly shut closed and the halcyon memories of Suguru became overlayed with the reality of their present. Shoko became a stone heart and detached herself from sentiment. She laid out her expectations to Satoru and left him with an ultimatum: choose death or dishonor.  

Satoru ultimately chose death. 

But things have changed, he's changed, and the future is so much brighter. 

Shoko blinks, "No, I haven't, thanks for reminding me."

"Wanna get take-away?"

"I have leftovers, it might be enough for both of us."

"...who cooked?" 

Shoko laughs, "I did."

"Then sure, I can grab something from home-" He stops himself. He can't go home, at least not yet. "I'll grab something from the cafeteria if there isn't enough to go around."

He doesn't have time to socialize, he doesn't have time for lunch, but he makes time.

"Okay, let me wrap up here and we'll go."

2013

"What do you want me to do about it?" He says tiredly.

His ascension isn't recent, but he grows weary from the demands placed on his shoulders.

This is what he was bred for. This is what he was raised for. This is what he was trained for. This is what he was taught at the knee of Father and his grandparents. 

He is burdened with glorious purpose. 

Why does it feel like he'll buckle under the weight of it?

"Find a solution."

That's the answer to everything, right? From the most trivial matters to life-or-death scenarios. 

He should have the answer. 

"It wasn't a problem until elder Gin put his big fat dick on the table and expected me to dance-"

"Be mature," Father says sternly.

"Tell Elder Gin and Misa to keep their upstart aspirations away from me. I thought they learned their lesson; do we need a repeat of 2009 and 2011?" 

"Quite not," Father says. "You are practicing patience and mercy now."

"Patience and mercy," Satoru echoes with wry resignation. "Even that has limits."

"There are ways to bypass their suggestions-"

"Demands," Satoru corrects.

"Suggestions," Father reaffirms. "That is all they are. Whatever motivations drive them are irrelevant; what matters is the continued prosperity and sanctity of the Gojo family."

Of course, his personal feelings do not matter. 

Civility is a mask they all hide behind, but these people are Janus-faced. Father indulged them, but Satoru will diminish them. 

"Marriage and begetting heirs isn't the only answer," Father continues. "You are an example of that." 

This would be so much easier if Suguru just stayed put, just listened, trusted him, and believed in them. 

But he didn't.

"I know, I'm looking into it."

Chapter Text

The cafeteria is nearly empty. Those present hardly pay them any mind. If he's recognized, it's by people who have defied the life expectancy of their profession or those who play supportive roles for the people on the front lines. But these new people that were once prohibited from walking these lauded halls know nothing of Gojo Satoru, only whispers and rumors of a legend from a bygone era. 

Just like he always wanted, anonymity, just another face in the crowd.

"Who's coming?" Shoko asks.

"A few relatives," Satoru answers. 

Shoko is immediately on guard. "Who?" She asks suspiciously.

Satoru can't blame her; he can't abide by his family, and his reasons are numerous. As a long time friend, Shoko has unfortunately been exposed to his familial nonsense. 

"The people I like," He says vaguely.

Shoko is far from satisfied. "Rate them on a likability scale?"

"Mean or average?" He equivocates. 

"Use those two brain cells and make do with whatever makes sense to your inbred brain," Shoko says dryly.

"Hey! I'm adopted!"

"Your dad is what? Your third or fourth cousin." Satoru turns his head, fighting a smile, and subtly gives her the one-finger salute. Unphased, Shoko continues, voice dry as she empathetically says, "Friend, I'm sorry to say this, your family tree is a wreath." 

They fall into old patterns. 

"If inbreeding creates a specimen like me—peak perfection." As vain and shameless as he is, even he cringes at the words that leave his mouth. "Then it's a necessary evil." 

Shoko is equally appalled and repulsed. "I can't believe you said that with a straight face. Even you can't believe the bullshit you say."

In for a penny, in for a pound, "I can't have that inbred feeling?"

Shoko throws a piece of curry bread at his head. Infinity blocks it, and Satoru sticks out his tongue.

"You're an idiot," Shoko shakes her head. 

Satoru laughs and stirs the conversation back to its original subject. "On a scale of 1 to 10, they average 6 to 7.5. Add Mei, and it's 8 on a good day."

Shoko is still dubious but acquiesces, "All right, I'm coming."

"Have you visited?"

Shoko shakes her head, "No, not yet. Nobara wants to go with Megumi first. I told her he'll likely go with you since you're family. Nobara didn't know that, so you can guess her reaction."

"It's not like it's a secret," Satoru shrugs.

"It's not a well-known one, your family is secretive," Shoko points out.

Most major clans are. The Zen'in, less so, they boast robust numbers amongst their ranks, the Kamo are a shadow of what they once were, and the Gojo and their minor clans are inconspicuous, choosing to move in silence. 

"I respect Mei's decision. I'm visiting before we go bar hopping. Megumi has a list of gifts for me to deliver." 

"Speaking of pregnancy," Shoko segues the conversation. "Nobara wants to try for a second pup." 

"Really?" Satoru is surprised; he thought they were one and done.

"Yeah, I'm not so sure. Kyosuke was planned, but Nobara's pregnancy wasn't...ideal, and we decided not to have more. I can't imagine a second pregnancy going smoothly when the first one left a lot to be desired," Shoko divulges.

There are many ways he can respond. Satoru is a newlywed. What does he know of pregnancy? Satoru is a father figure, and his idiot of a kid took leave of his senses and got pregnant. What kind of parental figure does that make him? The child he could have had would have remained unknown to him. What insight can Satoru provide when he's had a history of failure in the family planning division?

He stops his self-deprecating thoughts and provides a solution.

"Have you considered alternate methods?" 

That catches Shoko's attention.

2013

He's kept in separate quarters.

Isolated.

Far from the other children.

As Satoru nears the veil of despair thickens. It collides with Infinity, encroaching but never penetrating, attempting to drive him into the realm of hopelessness and anguish.

Gaining custody was the easy part. His parents relinquished him to the child protective services after a series of inexplicable and unfortunate events. Satoru couldn't blame them; they weren't equipped to handle this. Not all those who wander are lost, but they never found themselves back in the light; their son, unfortunately, did. He gained back the power that eluded them, but lacked the tools to hone it. 

That's why Satoru is here.

The Okkotsu are descendants of the extinct Maeda clan. Satoru seeks what was lost, what was extinguished in the fifteenth century, during the Ashikaga period. 

The curse attached to the boy is merely a bonus.

Satoru opens the door.

"Hey, kid."

Chapter Text

"Yuuta is my heir." Satoru thinks he deserves a gold star; he sounds civil. 

"We're aware, but that is not set in stone."

This tradition will die with him. 

Advisors are necessary.

He can't exist in an echo chamber where his thoughts and statements are reiterated with sycophantic awe. Nor can he surround himself with Janus-faced wretches that will smile sweetly with venom in their eyes and jealousy in their hearts. 

Father installed his brother and sister. That was a mistake; they represented one sample of the family, while Father represented the whole. 

Satoru rectified that.

He has three, similar in age, who are a definitive representation of their family, tolerable, relatively unbiased, respectful, but forthright. Satoru can trust the veracity of their words, actions, and motivations; they've known each other since childhood. 

Clan elders, on the other hand, are a tradition.

It will die with him. 

"He has accepted the formal suit of Zen'in Maki. He is disqualified." 

This meeting is nominal.

A pretense.

A way to acknowledge the power structure that built the foundation of their clan and strip it of its influence.

The perception of power never fails to use him. 

"Not necessarily," Father interjects, serving as an advisor and elder. "That rule was amended."

"But it wasn't codified."

These meetings are a pretense. The subjects discussed are generalized; much is said, little is done. 

All of the subjects stem from one genre. 

Power. 

An heir is power. 

Satoru's choice gives no one glory. 

Father smiles benignly, but his tone is a touch condescending, "I wasn't aware that the family rules were laws. Our rules of inheritance are set by the clan head; precedence has created a framework to base them on."

Father followed those rules to cement his power base. As the youngest of three, he would be seen as the odd man out, when in reality, he was the only feasible option when alternative measures would have taken their family in a different direction, one that would have likely removed them from the Gosanke. 

Father was ruthless, and that was taught to Satoru; however, he wielded it differently.

"This change will lead to instability," Elder Seiji protests vehemently.

"You've had ten years to become accustomed to it," Satoru says, bored. "I'm afraid another ten years are not in the cards for you. Why complain about something you won't be around to witness?"

This is the same discussion they've had for a decade. The answer didn't change then, and it will not change now.

Elder Seiji chokes and sputters, apoplectic. 

Father snorts, Elder Misa tuts in disproval, Elder Erina's shoulder shakes with silent laughter, and Elder Gin retains his placid demeanor, but there is a glint in his eyes. 

Uh-oh. 

That spells trouble.

"Then maybe we can reconsider the source of the heir."

"From Yuuta?" Father steps in and saves them all from Satoru's caustic comments. "Don't you think that's putting the cart before the horse?"

Elder Gin is undeterred. "No, I mean our resident newlywed." Elder Gin gleams with silent triumph. "You were recently wed, Satoru-sama. I believe a congratulations is in order." 

Elder Erina gasps, Elder Seiji's eyes widen comically, Elder Misa smirks, and Father, Father claps him on the back and beams. 

"Really? I didn't know you had a secret wife. Congratulations!" 

"I didn't know either," Satoru neither confirms nor denies Elder Gin's asseveration. "Private records are banned to the public. Which officials did you bribe to get that kind of information? I need a favor or two." 

Elder Gin shows his patience has a tether, and they've reached its frayed end. "So you deny your marriage to Fushiguro Megumi!? Have you thought of how this would impact relations between the Gojo and the Zen'in!? How this would impact the tenuous balance between the gosanke!?"

Satoru pulls down his blindfold and reveals Six Eyes in all its esoteric glory. Sometimes he thinks they forget who and what he is. It doesn't hurt to remind them, keep them on their toes when they're used to diplomacy. 

Diplomacy did not make him docile, in fact it made him lethal, but this is the foundation of their clan, the past, present, and future of their house. 

"Who are you to command me?" His voice echoes with inhuman cadence.

Chapter Text

They start small.

A quick field trip in preparation for the day Satoshi spends a weekend with Satoru and Megumi. Practice for the future, for the day Satoru has a little one, and is called Otou-sam. 

Junpei fusses over Satoshi. The toddler responds enthusiastically at first, accepting the affection and attention and returning it. Then he grows annoyed and pushes his mother away, "Stop, Mama!"

Junpei tears up and wails, "He doesn't like me! He's too young to hate me!"

Yuuji runs damage control, gathers the omega into his arms, and murmurs words of affirmation.

Satoshi watches, confused, and turns to Satoru for assurance. He grins, and Toshi-chan smiles back, comforted.

As the youngest of the brood, Juupei is much more reluctant to have him out of his sight. Omegas are protective of their pups; they are their most deadly when home and hearth are under threat. 

Junpei's reaction is valid.

They start small to avoid triggering that protective instinct. 

Yuuji turns until the omega's back faces them and then gestures for them to leave.

Satoru gathers Toshi-chan and his bag.

The toddler giggles and sings, "Up, up, up!"

He takes one step and disappears on the next.

It's a quick field trip.

Preparation for the day, Satoshi spends a weekend with Satoru and Megumi.

It helps Satoru kill two birds with one stone.

A buffer and quality time with his namesake.

---

With a wriggling toddler in one arm, Satoru texts quickly, deftly maneuvering his mobile away from curious and persistent hands. 

Me: Take a picture of your genkan.

Conartist #1: Why? 

Me: Why not? 

Conartist #1: Why? 

Me: Surprise!

Conartist #1: Don't do anything stupid.

Me: Stupid is as stupid does.

Conartist #1: You're using that adage wrong. 

Me: I'm using it ironically.

Conartist #1: Fine.

A picture of their home entrance appears. Satoru calculates the area and measures the distance-

"Put me down! Down!" Satoshi whines.

"I know, buddy, just give me a few minutes and then you can play." 

"Play!" Satoshi cheers. 

Satoru kneels down, presses two fingers to the ground, and concentrates cursed energy into one singular point. He mumurs an incantation, and words flow from his fingertips. 

The pile of parcels disappears, and he follows, toddler in tow, in their wake. 

---

"Take off your shoes!"

"Okay!" Toshi-chan plops onto his bottom and carefully unbuckles his velcro sandals. 

Satoru watches, ready to help.

His fine motor skills are progressing faster than Satoru anticipated. Kids are adaptable and observant; with siblings several years older than him, Satoshi reached each of his milestones earlier than expected. 

He's no stranger to child rearing. 

Satoru raised Yuuta to some extent. His childhood mirrored Satoru's, but it was altered and redesigned to address the gaps in Satoru's upbringing and curated to nurture Yuuta's needs. He had a village, experts, tutors, friends, and family.  He was hands off, he was involved, he made mistakes, he strived to do more, to be better.

However, Satoru did not meet a functioning family until he encountered Yuuji and Junpei. He did not realize what he was missing, and as the people around him went through the stages of life, experiencing the bonds of mates, marriage, and family. Satoru was left in the dust, by choice, by foolish hope, chasing yesterday, and hoping for a better tomorrow. 

He decided he wanted what they have. 

"All done!" The toddler frowns and points at his shoes, "You too!" 

"Sure," He smiles and follows suit. 

The door opens and reveals a familiar head of silver hair and dark eyes. The coloring marks her as Gojo, or perhaps Karahashi or Takatsuji, or the unlikely Kiyooka. 

"My, my, my. What do we have here?" 

"Gifts," Satoru brandishes with jazz hands.

Satoshi claps his hands, "Happy Birthday!"

"Close enough," Satoru laughs, "it's the thought that counts. Good job, Toshi-chan!"

Satoshi cheers. 

Chapter Text

"He keeps up with Tomo-chan," Utahime observes. "He's very smart."

"I wouldn't say that," Satoru replies, studying the newest addition to the Iori family. Unlike Satoshi, this baby is a month old and smells more like his parents, but the sweet undertone of milk remains. "He imitates his older siblings, so he's taking cues from Tomoka."

"The ability to learn and process complex information rapidly is a sign of intelligence. He speaks well for his age and asks questions with his limited vocabulary," Utahime lectures. "His parents should consider getting him tested when he's older."

Her background in childhood development and general education makes her a subject matter expert, but where she has education on her side, Satoru is the subject of her expertise.

"I know, I was that kid," Satoru reveals with a bitter twist of his lips. "The last thing we want is to put labels on him."

Utahime scoffs, "I doubt he'll be anything like you."

"After his parents, I'll be his emergency contact." He's almost offended by her appalled expression. "I'm his nazukeoya."

"You!?"

The baby whines, and Tomoka and Satoshi look up curiously.

"Mama's gonna cuss," Tomo-chan says smartly. "Let's get the jar!"

"No, I'm not, sweetheart," Utahime says patiently. 

"That's what you said last time. Pay up!"

Satoru snickers.

Utahime glares and grits her teeth, stopping the litany of curses she wants to unleash.

"Potty mouth?" Satoshi says slowly.

From the mouths of babes. Satoru's shoulders shake with silent laughter, but he manages to say, "Yes, Toshi-chan."

"Time out!"

Satoru bursts into laughter.

"Give me my baby, da-" 

"Okaa-san," Tomoka warns. 

"Darn it!" Utahime seethes and carefully picks up her son, and Satoru relinquishes him willingly.

"It's like she said your full government name," he laughs helplessly. "She's like Kyosuke-kun, you gave birth to your twin!"

"Shut up," She hisses. 

Satoru laughs harder.

"I hate you," She swears. "If it weren't for Mei and," She grimaces, "Megumi. I wouldn't have anything to do with you." 

Satoru is unfazed. He wipes a tear from his eyes, amused smile widening, "You still can't take a joke, eh? Never change, Utahime." 

"You use jokes as a humiliation ritual." Utahime's vitriol is barely contained. "You're trash. And somehow you've managed to drag Megumi back into your orbit. If you break him again, I'll find some way to break you," She threatens vehemently. 

Utahime's dislike of Satoru is nothing new.

He considers her a member of his second fandom.

Warranted or not, it's one-sided.

Contrary to popular belief, Satoru does respect Utahime. Respect comes in varying degrees, and he respects her cunning and gumption. When she was in her third year, she took her status as the last man standing, the so-called weakest link, and turned it into a series of victories.

While her self-righteousness is grating, it is also admirable. Their differences were a matter of morals and values. What he deems important may coincide with her perspective, but the execution is where they fail to meet eye to eye. 

But now he sees it with new eyes. 

It was a lack of information that caused him to dismiss her hostility. She knew, she had a reason; her reproval had merit.

"You knew," He says, an apropos of nothing to her, an arbitrary statement that leaves her flummoxed. "I just found out, but you knew, and you were probably there for him."

Brows furrowed, she queries, "What are you talking about?"

"The pregnancy." He says nothing more and waits for her to draw the conclusions herself.

Her eyes widen, and her anger returns tenfold.

He catches her off guard before she can respond. 

"Thank you," He says sincerely. "I didn't know, but I'm glad he was surrounded by people who cared." 

Utahime stands up, shaking her head. "I don't forgive you, Naoya doesn't forgive you, and I don't know how Nobara stands you."

"I'm not asking for it," Satoru says candidly. "Forgiveness isn't your place to give. I'm thanking you."

"You're not welcome," She turns on her heel and quits the room. 

Chapter Text

Is it possible to feel alone in a crowd of people?

He sips his mocktail.

Satoru's shadow is a vast and intimidating specter. Few people stand beside him, and those that do can quickly find themselves swallowed by his shadow. 

He holds people close but separate. There's always a degree of separation. 

Has he always felt this way?

Here he is surrounded by childhood companions and a lifelong friend. 

These people are bonded to him through blood, distant and near. They were thrown together as children, and that forged friendships created through innocent games and childish antics. Time and differing circumstances drew them apart... those are the words an optimist would use. Satoru's path was curated under the meticulous care of Father, with insights from his grandparents. His early childhood friends were a reflection of that methodical design. 

These people were his bosom buddies, and they grew up to become his advisors and consultants, each with a vested interest in the family interests. 

He cannot fault Father for his parenting when this was the end result, people he could trust, but he did resent the breach in his autonomy. It showed that his personal will meant nothing and his choices were predetermined based on a carefully modulated environment. 

He doesn't want that for his children-

"Where are you?"

"I'm right here." He wishes he weren't. 

"You're dissociating," Shoko accuses.

"I am not," He refutes. Should he text Megumi? Its been four days, seven hours, 34 minutes, and 18 seconds-

"What did Asuma-san just say?"

"He wants to initiate a bar crawl." Fuck he misses Megumi. 

"And what did Hiyori-san say back?" Shoko interrogates. 

"That's not Hiyori," Satoru clarifies, "that's Hinata, she has a mole under her eye."

"So does Hiyori-san," Shoko points out.

"Yeah, but Hiyori's mole is lower." Identical twins are rare in his family, they've bred the trait out to avoid the stigma. When they occur, they rarely have cursed energy. Hiyori and Hinata do not see the unseen but walk in it nonetheless.

Shoko squints, "I think I see it." 

"Hinata also has darker eyes."

"I'll take your word for it. You know them better than I do. Now, stop stalling or else you're a liar."

"I never lie, I omit." Satoru is a lying liar that lies. He lied to himself for more than seventeen years, honesty is a recent change. He's trying it out and finding out it correlates with happiness. 

Shoko is unimpressed, or maybe that's her default expression, "You're a liar." 

Satoru maturely sticks out his tongue, "She said we're celebrating Mayumi," He finally answers, proving her wrong. "If he wants a one-night stand, he can do it on his own time. Then Mei pulled an Utahime and said no informal language, she did not give her permission to use her real name, and if she doesn't stop, she can't sit with us." He gestures to his cousin with his mocktail. "Now Hinata is pouting, and Hiyori is laughing at her."

Shoko raises a brow, "Kisuke-san?"

"He is texting his wife under the table. Judging by his flushed cheeks, he's either drunk or sexting. But considering his response, he's doing the ladder," Satoru finishes smartly. "Your wife just had a baby," Satoru calls to his relative, "Get off him!"

"Hey!" Kisuke shouts, embarrassed and annoyed. 

"See," Satoru says smugly, "I wasn't lying."

"But you were dissociating," is Shoko's quick riposte.

"...Maybe," He admits.

"Missing Megumi?" She asks knowingly. 

He feels the tension in his shoulder release at the sound of the omega's name. "How'd you guess?"

"You look like shit."

Physically, he appears fine; his appearance is immaculate. In that regard, he is fastidious and vain. Mentally, he's weary; he hasn't slept in 72 hours, and the prospect of sleep is unappealing without the presence of a finicky omega. He misses their daily routine, their conversations, their kisses, their embraces, and the simple notion that he'll be able to see his face every morning. Emotionally, he's drained and wants reprieve. 

He doesn't know how he did this before, and he doesn't want to go back. It's a lonely existence filled with inconsequential mundanities that give him no satisfaction. 

"You don't say," Satoru concedes.

His mobile vibrates, the phone Megumi is most likely to contact. 

Satoru isn't ashamed to say he scrambles to pull it out of his pocket and check his notifications. 

When the screen lights up and he sees the name, he feels visceral relief. 

Megumi ♡ (ɔˆз(ˆ⌣ˆc): Come home. 

Chapter Text

Megumi catches his reflection in the mirror and sighs.

Sunken eyes, bruised under-eye bags, sallow skin, and chapped lips.

At least his scent glands were no longer inflamed. 

He sneezes violently and groans as his muscles spasm. The body aches and fatigue weigh heavily on him.

He'd hoped the flu-like symptoms would pass by now, but it appears they are just beginning to recede.

Nearly twenty years of heats and he has yet to experience one like this. When he first presented and experienced the onset of estrus, Megumi thought of his heat as a necessary evil; he didn't like it, nor did he hate it. As he grew comfortable with his body and sexuality, he anticipated them. Alone or with a partner, Megumi welcomed the fever, the voracious appetite for alpha cock and cum, the shameless loss of inhibitions, and enjoyed the orgasmic oblivion his heat offered.

This heat was unlike any he had experienced before. 

Megumi runs the bath and then turns on the shower, checks the temperature, waits, and then ducks under the spray.

It was late, which was worrying enough. His heats are always consistent and he follows his schedule habitually.

He squints and peers through the cascading water and steam. He settles on Satoru's nearly full bottle of shampoo. He warned the alpha to use his toiletries sparingly and outright banned him from touching his skincare products; Megumi invested heavily in his beauty routine and suffers from hormonal acne. Satoru is porcelain perfection. Curiosity is fine, but sampling and attempting to create a solution for a problem that doesn't exist crosses the line. If that's the game he wants to play, Megumi will happily utilize products Satoru deems necessary and take advantage of quality and refined ingredients.

Speaking of the alpha, that bastard knew.

A compatible alpha and omega pair. 

In constant quarters with a virile alpha, Megumi's body prepared itself to be mated and bonded. Megumi's omega expected to be mounted and impregnated. Megumi's instincts became a yawning abyss of despair and panic. The sudden lack of alpha threw his hormones off balance, and his body went into survival mode. 

The desire remained, a slow simmering fire, but Megumi felt more nauseous than amorous.

Megumi fell ill.

He spent his heat leaking from his cunt and nose and battling a raging headache. 

Yeah, no, zero out of ten, would not recommend. 

He rinses the shampoo out of his hair, washes his face, and wipes away the cloyingly sweet scent of heat mared by the unpleasant smell of sickness. 

He needs to adjust the ventilation system. Cleaning up the aftermath of his pitiful heat seems like an impossible task, and he's already exhausted at the thought. 

He turns off the shower and charily settles into the bath.  Whimpering as he's encompassed in warmth, soothing his aching muscles. 

He wants to be scent-marked, properly fucked once he can breathe without sniffling, and cuddled. Not in that order, but in some variation, please and thank you. 

The last vestiges of heat cling to him, but he should be in the clear.

He'll resume his suppressants and text Satoru. 

He misses him. 

2013

"It's my f-fault?" Yuuta chokes out, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes.

"Yes," He delivers the blow, but soothes, "but you didn't know any better."

Satoru does not lie.

He omits.

The truth is a matter of perspective; his, hers, theirs, and the truth. 

The veracity of his words does not matter; his lies run parallel to the truth, seldom deviating into tall tales and elaborate fabrications. 

He is forthright and wields it like a finely sharpened blade. Smiling benignly as he twists the knife.

Yuuta cries and pats his head, offering a display of superficial comfort for an affection-starved child. "It's okay, this isn't permanent. We can fix it."

"It's my fault." Yuuta clutches his shirt, twisting the material, clawing as if he could rip through flesh and bone and excavate his bleeding heart. However, beneath the tears, snot, and hurt feelings is resolution. "My responsibility."

Satoru's sympathetic smile widens infinitesimally. 

There it is.

Fortitude.

Despite the overwhelming odds, Yuuta can adapt and overcome. The boy can move forward, resilient and undaunted. 

"You won't carry the burden alone."

Yuuta's heartbreaking smile answers him, but there's determination and grit in his dark eyes.

He chose well. 

Chapter Text

The conversation is stilted, but he couldn't ignore the call. They seldom talk, and when they do, the conversations are superficial. 

"How's Shion-chan and Noahiro-chan?"

They've drifted apart.

"They're well."

It's a sad but inevitable fate. A consequence of growing up and pursuing different interests and pursuits. 

"And Tsubasa-san?"

Megumi puts the phone on mute and sits down. He catches his breath and grimaces. 

Despite his best efforts, the cloyingly sweet scent of heat remains. Megumi side-eyes the so-called state ventilation system and wonders how it will perform during his heat and Satoru's rut. 

And right now, he's pushing himself too hard.

Rudimentary cleaning took a lot out of him, and hanging up laundry is making it worse.

He wants Satoru to come home to a clean and orderly house. 

But now, he over-exhausts himself hanging up laundry. He can take a power nap and continue cleaning later;  however, he doubts he'll have the energy, so he powers through the exhaustion and lingering headache. 

"He's fine as well."

Megumi takes the phone off mute. "That's great-" he says, but then stops himself and winces at the sound of his winded voice, and clears his throat.  "That's great to hear."

"You okay, Megu?" 

The stiff formality or fragile air of cordiality leaves his voice, giving way to familiarity and concern. 

Megumi answers truthfully, "Probably not, but you know how I am."

"Stubborn, stupid, contrary, a pain in the ass-"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Megumi interrupts, disgruntled. "I get it."

"At least you're self-aware," Naoya says, amused. "What are you doing? If you're sick, shouldn't you be resting?"

"I'll rest when I'm dead," Megumi grumbles. "This house is too damn big for two." 

"Two? When did you move?"

Shit. 

He didn't know. He's almost surprised Nobara didn't tell him; they were closer despite the familial bond between them. 

He could lie, he could make an excuse, but Megumi has resolved to live by the truth. 

"I got married," Megumi reveals. "We haven't had an official wedding, but you're on the list. I'd be happy if you come."

"Whoa!" Naoya says, astonished, "When did this happen? What his name? Er, or her name? How long have you known each other? Where did you meet? Where did you move to? Did you have a housewarming party?"

"We got married in late March. They're someone I reconnected with," Megumi does not say a name, that would quickly end the conversation. "We didn't work out when we first met, I guess a case of right person, wrong time. We moved to the Sakyo Ward, it's somewhat remote, but the area is quaint. We'll have a housewarming party when we get more furniture. We're using mine." 

"That's nice, who is he, Megumi?" Naoya's bullshit radar is pinging, and Megumi is the source.

He wants to childishly yell, "Nada!!" He refrains. He doesn't want to lie or omit, so he circumvents the issue. "Why does that matter?"

"Who is this mystery man?"

"How do you know it's a he?" Megumi hedges.

"You have a type. You've casually dated women, but your preference is men, preferably alphas."

"Well, excuse me," Megumi says, affronted. "How do you know my dating history?"

"We're in the same group chats," Naoya pokes holes in his sails. "Just because I don't respond doesn't mean I don't check in and see what you're all up to."

"Oh," Megumi says dumbly. "I thought you didn't want to be bothered."

"I thought you were too busy with school, work, and your clan obligations. You're one of my best friends, and you're my family. Why wouldn't I want to talk to you?"

"Oh," Megumi repeats. 

He spent so much time assuming Naoya was disappointed in him and his choices. At seventeen, he had found purpose, lost it, gained it back, and lost it again. At the edge of seventeen, he was done. 

Satoru had confronted him, but Naoya's reaction had hurt the most. 

Naoya had been ready to step up and be the father his baby needed. He was all too willing to commit to the long con they had planned. Marriage and a baby; he was willing to provide the security, protection, and legitimacy Megumi needed. When Megumi miscarried, it devastated not just him but also the father who wanted to step up. 

When he decided to give up all his aspirations, forsake jujutsu, and pay penance for Tsumiki's death, Naoya could not stay still. They'd argued, they yelled, they exchanged insults, and Naoya walked away disappointed and disillusioned. 

"It's Gojo Satoru."

Naoya pauses, "Oh."

"Yeah," he feels the need to explain himself, "he's changed. He's the same, but there's emotional-"

"You don't have to explain yourself, Megumi, " Naoya interrupts gently. "I don't need to be convinced. You loved him once; if you love him again, I trust your judgment."

Megumi feels suddenly overwhelmed. He sniffles and feels his eyes burn with tears. He didn't know he needed to hear that. Just plain acceptance from someone who knew him, knew everything that happened, and didn't make him doubt himself and weigh him down with the past. 

"Thank you," he chokes out, feeling tears fall. "H-he's like a different person now. Sometimes I feel like I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop, but it doesn't. I don't know what to do."

"Enjoy it," Naoya advises. "He's become the person you wanted."

Megumi laughs and wipes his eyes. "I wish he were less annoying."

"He is, isn't he? I still can't stand him," Naoya grouses, sounding like his highbrow self. 

"Do you see him often?"

"Once in a while, he knows I don't like him. He just doesn't know why."

"He knows now," Megumi says hesitantly. "About the baby."

Naoya sighs, "I figured, but my dislike is still justified. He terrorizes high-ranking officials and spends an inordinate amount of time in my office despite our agreements on most of his proposals and projects."

So Naoya was an ally of Satoru's. That's interesting to know. 

"I'll tell him to back off."

"Tell him to come home and help you before you pass out and hurt yourself," Naoya orders. "You sound like shit."

He is right, and Megumi does just that. 

Chapter Text

1997

"You're gonna break it."

Grandfather is a collector.

Aunt Rion calls it hoarding, Uncle Shizuka helps catalog each item by category, material, date of purchase/acquisition, and value.

Value. 

Uncle is nothing but opportunistic, but Father calls it pragmatic.

Liquid assets are fine, but so are fixed assets. Grandfather is meticulous and strategic; her collections aren't created on her whims, but there is joy in her hobby. 

Her watch collection is one of her prized collections, and right now, Satoru's cousin is making a nuisance of himself. 

He wearily eyes the pocket watch in his grubby paws. Grandfather usually wears gloves when he handles that one; it's delicate, a product of intricate craftsmanship; it also tarnishes easily. The natural oils from human skin can exacerbate it. His cousin's germ-encrusted and food-stained fingers aren't helping the matter. 

"You're gonna break it," Rin mocks in a nasally, high-pitched voice. "You think you're special, don't cha?"

"I am," Satoru says bluntly. 

Rhetorical or sarcastic, the question has an answer, and Satoru is special. 

"Not forreals," Rin rolls his eyes.

"That's reality," Satoru says candidly and suppresses a shit-eating grin as Rin's nostrils flare, his eyes narrow, and he glowers.

"You know I mean!" 

"I don't, you're just stating the obvious." 

Rin stomps his foot, frustration mounting as Satoru mocks him and fails to rise to the bait. "You think you're better than us 'cause Jiji takes you everywhere, let's you help her with her trink-trink," He stumbles on the word, Satoru snickers, and he flushes in embarrassment, blusteringly carries on, "stuff! Talks about you-"

"This is boring," Satoru interrupts. "So boring, put the watch down and go away."

That incenses Rin.

His fists curl into balled fists, his face turns an alarming puce, his eyes tear up, and his teeth clench. "If you can be here, I can too!"

"Grandfather told you not to touch anything. You broke that. Leave," Satoru says, bored, and dismisses him with a careless wave of his hand. 

Rin burst into angry tears.

Crybaby.

Then something vindictive crosses his face, and he throws the watch down.

It shatters.

It opens and reveals the broken glass and the shattered, delicate, intricate inner workings. 

Rin sniffles, wipes his tears, and sports a vindicated smile. "There, now no one gets to have Jiji's stupid watch."

He expected this behavior from Rin; he saw this as a possible outcome. Rin is predictable, a mean-spirited, jealous, crybaby, tattletale. 

An annoying brat.

He prefers his older sister Natsuki, who took all the sense and left the stupid behind for Rin.

"You're in trouble," Satoru says unsympathetically. "Grandmother gave that watch to Grandfather when they got married."

"So!" Rin shouts belligerently.

"That watch belonged to Grandmother's grandfather." Rin is still unrepentant, Satoru tsk, "It's a family heirloom, do you know what that means?"

"I'm not stupid!"

"Are you sure?"

"'m not!"

"What is a family heirloom?"

"Something that belongs to the family!" Rin smiles smugly.

"You're right," Satoru concedes, and Rin opens his mouth to say something that's probably stupid, but Satoru continues. "And you're wrong."

Rin scowls, "How!?"

"It's something that belongs to a family for generations, but it's valuable."

"Then it's not a big deal, she can buy another!"

"That watch was made in 1878. It isn't replaceable." Satoru watches as realization finally dawns on Rin. "Grandmother cherished it enough to give it to Grandfather. You broke something that has sentimental value to our grandparents for a petty, one-sided beef with me."

"I d-didn't," Rin stutters. "You made me do it!"

Satoru doesn't bother refuting that ridiculous accusation. He could have stopped him, but all paths led to collateral damage. Human behavior cannot be controlled, but it can be manipulated. "Do you think they'll believe you?"

"Y-you did this on purpose!" Rin condemns him. "You could have stopped me, but you didn't!"

"Would you have listened?"

"If you had said-"

"But I did," Satoru interposes, stopping whatever denial Rin plans to spout. "You didn't listen. You never do."

Rin opens and closes his mouth. 

Satoru's eyes glow eerily. "Grandfather is coming. Hurry up and come up with a better story."

---

2023

Satoru places the cold compress on his forehead. "Should we go to an emergency clinic?" 

Megumi opens one blurry green eye and groggily says, "Tomorrow, if this doesn't clear up."

He presses a painkiller to Megumi's lips, and the omega takes it dutifully. "Water?"

Megumi shakes his head and winces.

"I didn't expect it to be this bad."

Neither did he. Megumi breathes through his mouth, inhaling slowly and exhaling steadily, waiting for the painkiller to kick in. His head feels heavy, the pulsing is acute, occurring behind his eyes and at the base of his head.

He pushed too hard and over-exhausted himself. 

"Should I scent you again?"

"No," he says slowly. "You'll put me in a false heat."

"Did it help at least?"

Megumi finds his strength dwindling and simply says, "Yes."

Scenting assauged the flight mode his omega never quite left. 

"We're probably too compatible. Maybe we should schedule some genetic testing?"

"That...doesn't correlate," He says tiredly. "Genetic sexual attraction is a pseudoscience."

"But compatibility is a theory overwhelmingly supported by empirical data," Satoru argues.

Megumi doesn't have the strength to argue, so he rolls his eyes and winces. He's a scientist; his background is in neuroscience, psychology, and biology.

He knows what he's talking about, but admits Satoru's statement has merit. 

Compatibility is overrated and blown out of proportion.

It's where the trope of true mates originates from. Popularized by trashy media, glamorized by betas, and idolized by naive alphas and omegas.

It's bullshit.

Compatibility is rooted in scent. Alphas and omegas are creatures that thrive on all five senses, but scent and taste play a significant role in their dynamics. 

But that is one facet in choosing a mate, and it is a byproduct of some bygone era that followed them into modernity. 

Megumi does not believe in true mates, but he does believe in love; however, that is not enough to sustain a long-term relationship. Love is not enough, but it is foundational, a stepping point.

Scent compatibility plays a role in the mutual attraction between him and Satoru. Physicality and close proximity were essential, but Megumi's omegan instincts required more than this to consider the alpha a potential mate. 

It was the alpha's behavior; it was courting, auditioning for a position that his instinct deemed him capable of filling. However, instincts, thoughts, and emotions are distinctly different. 

A mate.

Perhaps once.

But not now.

Probably never.

He cannot imagine bearing himself whole to someone. His emotions shared, not his alone. Carrying the brunt of someone else's emotional baggage. 

Mating had never appealed to him.

Marriage is enough; besides, Satoru was mated before.

The mark is imperceptible, but through reacquaintance and exploration, Megumi found faint teeth marks. Omegan fangs pierced through his left scent gland. 

He questions how to broach the subject.

Satoru did not divulge this; it seemed to be another subject kept closely guarded in his heart. So Megumi doesn't mention it, though he hopes someday the alpha will open up about it.

Megumi opened himself up; he doesn't expect quid pro quo, trauma exchanged for trauma, but he does want trust, communication, and reciprocation. 

"You know I'm right," Satoru goads. 

He yawns and rolls over. 

The painkiller is kicking in.

Megumi feels the covers shift, warmth surrounds him, and Satoru's sweet scent follows. The alpha wraps his arms around Megumi's slight frame and buries his face in Megumi's neck, inhaling deeply. 

"'m gonna overheat," Megumi complains tiredly.

"You're freezing," Satoru counters. 

"Let me summon Round Deer," He entreats.

"Did that help before?"

"...no," Megumi says begrudgingly. 

"Then no."

Megumi opens his mouth to retort, but Satoru ceases all objections.

He knocks him out with a well-placed surge of RCT to one of his pressure points. 

"Sleep, Megumi. I'll watch over you."

These are the last words Megumi hears as he meets blissful darkness. 

Chapter Text

2009

This is not the first incident, and judging by the guilty but defiant glint in his eyes, this will not be the last.

He stands protectively over the bruised and battered forms of three children, every inch the war omega he proclaimed him to be, but Satoru isn't interested in the victims.

No, he surveys the damage wrought by his definition of justice. 

The stench of iron is prevalent; it sears his nose and coats his tongue with every inhale. He manipulates the residual cursed energy around him, creating an air pocket to block out the stench.

The number of casualties is much more conspicuous, the collateral damage is minimal, and the witnesses are dead or shepherded behind their savior.

Satoru can fix this.

The problem is whether this will become a habit. Once is happenstance, twice is a coincidence, thrice is a pattern.

Is this the second time or the second time he was notified of?

---

2023

Their home remains sparse; Megumi isn't particularly fond of minimalism. He misses his warm and cozy apartment and wonders if the change in environment also played a role in his shit show of a heat.

This week, he'll research, consult Satoru, and contact an interior decorator.

What color scheme should they use? Satoru favored a modern industrial style, but his apartment office reflects his playful personality, with pops of color, contemporary, and eclectic elements. Megumi prefers modern designs, earth tones, and textured textiles. Maybe they can meet somewhere in the middle. He wouldn't mind more color in his home. 

Megumi sips his cup of coffee.

It's all he needs for sustenance, but Satoru begs to differ.

Megumi mechanically opens his mouth, accepts the alpha's offering, closes his mouth, and chews.

The cheerful smile that spreads across Satoru's handsome face is enough to convince him. Megumi studies his side profile from the corner of his eye; his looks alone are their own form of remedy. 

The alpha's smile becomes smug, and he preens under Megumi's admiring gaze, giving Megumi a better view of his defined jaw, patrician nose, angular cheekbones, and haunting eyes.

Megumi rolls his eyes, lips twitching, and mutters, "Ridiculous."

He is more or less on the mend.

All it took was a scenting session, over-the-counter medications, and the assiduous care of his husband.

"Open up."

Megumi dutifully opens his mouth.

"Wider."

Megumi closes his mouth and glowers.

"Open your mouth and bite."

A piece of sliced tamagoyaki is pressed to his lips. Megumi sighs and does as directed. He chews, pauses to lick his lips, wiping away the residue, and finds Satoru watching him with an impish glint in his too-blue eyes and mischievous grin curling pale, pink lips. Megumi pauses mid-chew and glares suspiciously, "What?"

"Don't talk with your mouth full."

Megumi decides to play his game and childishly opens his mouth, sticks out his tongue, and shows the half-eaten omelet. 

"I'll kiss you," Satoru threatens. 

Megumi quickly closes his mouth and recoils in disgust.

Satoru smirks, dimples on display, "Good boy."

Megumi flushes and gripes, "You're so annoying." 

"You like it," is Satoru's teasing pur.

Megumi doesn't dignify that comment with a response, but his blush deepens. He sips his coffee and looks out the window. 

Satoru chuckles, low and throaty. 

That doesn't help. Megumi crosses his legs; that doesn't help at all. 

He made a promise to himself after all, and each stipulation was met except one. 

He was hesitant to give in the first time, then he threw the doors wide open and ended up revealing more than he anticipated. It feels like they've made progress in some areas but regressed in others.

He's hesitant to initiate again. Satoru still looks like he wants to eat him alive and always follows his cues-

Megumi's gaze flickers to the alpha in question.

Under the table, Satoru's foot grazes his bare leg. Satoru's smile is downright devious. Megumi can play his game, even if he is often outmaneuvered. Megumi shifts his legs and wraps the alpha's between his, crossing his feet and dragging the alpha's seat closer. 

Satoru's eyes widen briefly, and he laughs, "Well played."

Megumi smiles and sips his coffee.