Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

This is a love story.

It has to be. At least Yuuji is pretty sure… Kind of. He was never much of a reader in that sense. He read news articles with his grandfather, loved that enough to make a career out of it once his grandfather passed away. But books were never his cup of tea. Movies? Yes, he is not a monster after all. Yet books have never been his thing. And, to be fair, they have never been Kugisaki’s thing either. Which is why he is profusely confused as she reads out loud to him.

Kugisaki, in her Catwoman outfit, goes through the pages quickly. Which does add to Yuuji’s confusion. She is reading, but not giving him time to allow the words to settle. Almost as if she doesn’t want him to understand, or doesn’t care enough to slow down.

He sighs, “Kug──”

The mere promise of Yuuji saying her name is enough to grant him a brief, yet powerful, death stare. Even though they are the only people inside the room

“Catwoman,” he corrects himself, but does roll his eyes in the process. “Why are you speed reading that thing at me?”

She doesn’t answer. To be honest, he is not even sure she has heard him whatsoever, considering she has kept reading throughout each word he said.

“Batman gave it to her,” Black Canary’s voice nearly startles him to death.

It is not that Yuuji forgot there are many other rooms in Jujutsu Tech, or that the League’s headquarters is filled with people at all times. He knows that, some would say he is super aware of it. Hell, Superman was the one responsible for calling this meeting, he knew other people would join them any time now. It is just that Black Canary has a way of rarely making herself known before scaring the shit out of him.

With all the pent up aggression she holds and anger she carries, that woman has an envious amount of stealth. Or perhaps Superman is just too loud. Either way, Yuuji has to keep an eye over his shoulder at all times. No surprise it is Black Canary’s own girlfriend that distracts him enough to fail at that mission.

“Yeah,” Kugisaki says, finally putting the book down to focus on Maki, who has crossed the room and is now sitting right next to her. “For my birthday two years ago.”

“You’ve been busy,” Maki argues.

It takes Yuuji a whole second to remember who he is.

And, yes, he likes to think that the feeling in his gut, that ugly little thing, is simply his Superman identity being annoyed that Batman has never given him a single gift. But aside from the lack of glasses and small voice changes ── Kugisaki pointed that one out once, and now he is self conscious about it ──, Superman is, at his core, still Itadori Yuuji. Who has no reason to feel slightly upset, or to allow that thing in his gut to grow even more.

See, the thing is Superman and Batman are friends. They have worked together many times before, as much if not more than himself and Catwoman had. They mesh well together. They are opposites in many things, but that adds to how good they are when fighting side by side. Even if Batman’s stoic demeanor doesn’t allow much room for an actual friendship like the ones Superman is used to… It is something. And, for the longest time, he had thought it was the best Batman could even do. He felt special. Like… He was worth stepping out of a strict comfort zone for.

Kugasaki has, as she tends to do, proved him wrong.

He sighs, a bit too lost in thought to bite his tongue, “He has never given me a birthday gift…”

The two women look at him. As if Yuuji’s small confession ── and how upset he genuinely sounds over it ── is enough to burst their bubble. Which, if you have been in a room with those two for long enough, you will know it is nearly impossible to do.

He clears his throat, trying to think of something to take away the redness on his cheeks. The warmth he feels growing from the nape of his neck up towards his face.

The best thing Yuuji can land on is:

“I mean,” he clears his throat again. “Why would he give you a romance book?”

Maki looks at the book on the table, blinks a couple times and looks at him.

“What?” she asks.

“Superman…” Kugisaki chuckles. Looking at him with that look she gets when she is about to call him stupid. Which, ouch.

“Murder mystery.”

For a brief second, almost fleeting, Yuuji freezes. As he usually does when Batman shows up unannounced. Not giving Superman enough time to mentally prepare for his voice. For how low it sounds, for how mysterious it is. Almost as if every syllable is carefully thought out before Batman even has a chance to say it. Knowing him it most likely is. Yet, it doesn’t stop Yuuji’s body from having some sort of reaction to it.

For a man made of steel, as people would like to point out, Batman’s voice has always been able to melt Superman. Not in a romantic way, of course. It is just… One of those things. Like the ASMR videos Panda talked about once or twice. Soothing to the point of changing one’s brain chemistry. Even if Yuuji is certain that was never Batman’s goal.

“You heard me read about murder and thought it was romantic?” Kugisaki asks, dumbfounded. “Are you okay? Genuinely, I mean──”

“I see you are finally reading it.”

Batman intervenes. Sitting down across from Superman at the round table. The table seems bigger because of it ── as if any distance between them is too much, which could mean nothing. Even though Yuuji remembers the day they picked it out. Big enough to fit all of them, but small enough so they wouldn’t have to shout at one another from across the room.

“For the third time,” she lies through her teeth.

Yuuji can only assume Batman raises his eyebrow at her, “You must have really enjoyed that plot twist then,” he shrugs. “Beats me, I thought it was awful.”

Oh.

That thing inside Yuuji calms down. It is subtle. But, as Batman’s closest friend ── which he is sure of now ──, Superman can tell that book was a test. A gift he knew she wouldn’t care for, most likely to annoy her. Something he passed off as emotional and filled with meaning. Enough to make her care. But not enough to make her read it immediately.

Knowing him, Superman is sure he had forgotten about the book at some point. Assuming Catwoman would never, ever, in fact read. Probably Batman had remembered it, made some offhand comment, and Catwoman started thinking back to it. To the meaning it supposedly had. And, despite not being her cup of tea as well… She tried to read it as fast as possible. Because she cares.

A realization Kugisaki seems to reach quite quickly as well.

“You have no taste, so it doesn’t surprise me,” she answers. Too stubborn to back down at that point. “Maybe read it again to fully capture the meaning.”

Batman’s lips twitch, as if he is holding back a smile as he nods.

“Will do.”

ㅤ

ㅤ

The meeting room is filled with most league members after twenty minutes. The book has become Maki’s coaster, and no one has mentioned it since. Superman is the only one standing as his colleagues ── or rather, friends ── look up at him. It is his meeting after all.

When the Jujutsu League was founded ages ago it came with a promise: camaraderie among heroes before anything else. Something Superman keeps having to remind himself as he explains the threat to his friends. Never being keen on asking for help, even when it was offered to him, Yuuji has to keep the League’s promise close to his heart.

Yes, they all have their own cities and homes to care for. But they wouldn’t be there if they weren’t sure their homes would be safe while they were gone. They wouldn’t be there if they couldn’t rely on the structures they had in place. Batman, for instance, would never leave Fukuyama on its own. Not fully.

Yes, they all need to be on board on the level of the threat to even consider helping. But Superman knows them ── some, if not all, he knows even outside of their hero personas. They are his friends. His people. They knew Yuuji wouldn’t call them there unless it was important.

And it is, it is important.

When Yuuji was sent to Earth as a baby, his entire planet ── and its people ── was on the brink of extinction. He was their one and only hope of existing beyond Krypton. So, for the longest time, Yuuji was sure he would carry that burden by himself for his entire life. He would always be the one and only Kryptonian left. A symbol of hope for his planet and Earth alike. And he had prayed for it to be a lie. For someone, somewhere, to find him. To tell him he was not alone. Someone capable of telling him stories about home, about a world he had never truly known, but has always deeply loved.

He just… Never thought those prayers would result in something.

Much less that this something would be Sukuna of all people.

“I’m not sure about his intentions,” Yuuji is honest. “But I know they can’t be good.”

Again, Yuuji knows little to nothing about his family, his past, his world. All he has are memories his biological parents deemed important to send with him. Those memories didn’t include history books, not even long letters with the meaning of life and whatnot. Still, when he first met Ryomen Sukuna, he knew even less.

He was but a teenager when it happened. His adoptive grandfather had just passed away, and Yuuji had to fend for himself. It was a trying time. Superman wasn’t as known outside of Tokyo as he is now. Some people would even call him Superboy just to make fun of his age and the amount of power he had despite it.

Then, one day, it all changed.

He saved two kids from what seemed like a demon to be honest. A monster he didn’t even know could exist on Earth. One he had to fight hard to win against. Until someone helped him. Similar powers, but greater. Stronger. Even if he wasn’t yet capable of holding it in like Superman could, even if he was somewhat… Chaotic. Sukuna had always been strong. Too strong. Too fast. Too much.

Not only that, he was too similar to Superman in everything else.

They didn’t look identical. Mostly because Sukuna was older and had scars all over his body along with marks that screamed he had lived enough to know pain, fear and sorrow. His hair was also darker. That being said, they couldn’t be twins. From some angles they couldn’t even be brothers. But they were related. They had to be.

And, according to Sukuna, they were.

As a teenager, Superman had yet to master his ability of doubting people. Always too trusting, too fast. To be fair, even now he has some problems with that. Eager to befriend everyone that comes closer than others would. But he does so with care. His steps towards the wrong direction aren’t as firm as they used to be. Something he has Sukuna to thank for.

But this is now.

Before, when he and Ryomen Sukuna first met, Yuuji was desperate to know more. To give himself a purpose, to fulfill his biological family’s dreams for him on Earth. Not only to be Superman, the Kryptonian hero. But to be a person his people would be proud of. To know more about the world he was trying to hold on to. And Sukuna gave him just that.

They met countless times back then. They flew together, ate meals, and got to know each other. Sukuna explained to him how they were related ── half-brothers, he had said ── and how he had escaped Krypton shortly after Yuuji to find him and keep him safe, but had ended up in another part of the world. Sukuna told him, with such truth in his eyes too, about how devastated he was. How he had looked for any signs of a Kryptonian baby on Earth. Had failed time and time again. And all of that… Only to crawl his way to Superman when first hearing about him.

Sukuna had explained Krypton to him ── how it was and how it ended. He allowed Yuuji to ask about his parents, his family. And even shared a story or two that he could remember. Because of that Yuuji was sure Sukuna was good, that he had good intentions.

Oh, how wrong he was.

To this day, Superman can’t point out what went wrong, what signs he had missed. He can’t, for the life of him, explain how it all went down. As if he had blocked it all from his memory, because it was too painful to even think about.

All he could remember, clear as day, was Sukuna’s face looking down at him ── even in this memory, Yuuji’s body hurts, he can feel himself bleed ──, when he smiled and said:

“I won’t kill you just yet. You might be useful someday.”

Both Yuuji and Superman had looked for him everywhere for years. But Sukuna disappeared. Almost as if he had never even existed in the first place. To the point Yuuji convinced himself Sukuna was nothing but a nightmare. Some weirdly vivid dream he had had at some point in his life. A result of his grief.

Until two days prior.

“So, he became a billionaire overnight?” Panda asks, confused. “And you didn’t notice?”

Despite keeping some details for himself, Yuuji was able to tell most of the story to his friends. Their unlikely friendship, their probably false blood-relation to one another. Keeping to himself how hopeful it was to have Sukuna for a moment. He skipped to where it all went downhill. At least what he was able to remember ── though not much. And his searches for the subsequent years.

“He goes by Ryomen now,” Superman explains. “From what I’ve gathered, he owns a few big tech companies… He is a philanthropist. And he is back in Tokyo for the near future.”

“For what reason?” Okkotsu asks.

Yuuji shrugs, “There is this big charity thing happening in a couple weeks, there are billionaires from all over the world in Tokyo. Have been for a week.”

“And he wouldn’t risk you finding him unless he had other plans,” Black Canary sighs.

It is not a question, but Superman nods anyway.

“I’ll keep an eye on him as Ryomen. But I need…” he doesn’t say the word help, despite it being exactly what he needs. “I need you to keep an eye out for Sukuna.”

“How?” Batman asks.

The room goes deadly quiet as Superman looks at him.

“How…?”

Batman sighs, “How will you keep an eye on him as Ryomen?”

“The event, I’m──” he stops himself, eyeing Batman for a good second. The only person in that room who doesn’t know ── and has said, multiple times, has no interest in knowing ── his secret identity. “I know someone covering the event and all the preparations.”

It takes a moment, but Batman nods. Seeming satisfied enough with the answer.

“I can help with that,” Okkotsu clears his throat. Forcing Superman to look away from Batman. “I can help your friend, I mean… Keeping an eye out for him.”

Next to Okkotsu, his boyfriend looks at him. The Prophet, as people like to call him ── or simply Inumaki, which Yuuji prefers ──, raises an eyebrow towards the man by his side. As if demanding an explanation. Or, better yet, a reason for him to be part of something that could seriously get him hurt.

“No need,” Superman assures him. Despite being sure he could use the extra hand. “I need more people worried about Sukuna than Ryomen.”

“That seems great and all,” Black Canary says. “But.. We need a better plan than just wait and see, don’t you think? Something more… Substantial.”

“Something we won’t be able to have without figuring some things out first,” Batman reminds her.

“I’m just saying──”

“And you are right,” Yuuji interrupts her. “We will meet again in a couple days to lay down a better plan. But for now… Gathering information is all we can do. He is a strong opponent, even for me… So, we need to be careful.”

Okkotsu gives Yuuji a tight smile, “When are we not?”

And, to be honest, he could name at least twenty times just off the top of his head. He doesn’t.

ㅤ

ㅤ

It takes two days, yet.. Finding out more information about Ryomen is easier than Yuuji had expected. Which, to be honest, makes him feel a tad stupid. Not that he was aware of Sukuna’s full name back then, or had the slightest inclination that he would aim for big tech of all damn things. If the thought had ever crossed his mind, even if for a brief second, he would have paid more attention to the tech genius with “other-wordly” inventions that only went by one name ── even if his full name was just one easy google search away.

Yuuji was so hellbent on the idea that Sukuna was nothing but a nightmare, that he had given up looking as much as he did. And, with that, Ryomen grew to the billionaire he is today. And the threat of what Sukuna might do grew with him.

It is frustrating, to say the least.

Reading about all the good things Ryomen had done. Reading about how kind he was to homeless people and sick children ── “I was once a sick child with no place to live,” he had said in an interview. The more he reads, the angrier he gets. His powers bubbling underneath his skin as he tries to make sense of it all. His skin close to catching fire.

For what it's worth, Ryomen seemed to have been as busy as Yuuji himself. Both grew over the past ten or so years. Both became… Something. And even if the hopeless optimistic side of Yuuji wanted to convince him that this could be a sign that both grew for good, he knows better now. He grew to be better, to be smarter, and to be prepared.

And now, well, now he is no longer alone.

He has friends. Something he never truly had before. Real friends. People that will show up for him, and won’t let him get in way over his head. Even if he wants to, even if he tries. He has something keeping him down. A reason to fight other than to be recognised and loved by people. He has…

And Yuuji admits that this is the first thing that comes to his mind.

He hates to admit that for half a second, however short it is, one thing stands out in his mind. One person. One small, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it, moment. One smile that clearly wasn’t meant to be there, that was meant to stay hidden.

I’m not alone, I have friends, he thinks to himself.

I’ll never be alone again, I have him.

A beat.

A moment.

A name.

I have──

“That would be considered working overtime, and we both know I don’t do that!”

Nanami’s voice cuts through the office.

Yuuji lifts his eyes from his computer screen in time to see the man stepping out of the editor-in-chief’s office. For a split second, Nanami turns around to go for the door. As if he wants to make a statement by slamming it as hard as humanly possible ── which, taking many things into consideration, he could do. But he decides, at the last minute, that those dramatics would be too much.

Which seems like a good idea as he turns around, Yuuji can tell.

Until Yaga follows him out. Finger raised at Nanami’s eye level.

“This is the most important piece of the year!” he nearly shouts. “You will do it.”

“I will quit!” Nami keeps his cool when speaking.

It has always made everyone, including Yuuji, more afraid of him. As if the silent promise of this being Nanami’s calm and collected version, was enough to make them all rethink the next few steps. Yaga, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to fall under those beliefs at the moment. He is stressed. He is fuming.

And Nanami’s next blow doesn’t seem to help:

“Itadori has the article about the charity gala, give this one to him as well!”

At the sound of his name, Yuuji stands up quickly. He debates going towards them or not. But, as he takes a step back to either go to them or run away, his chair falls to the ground. A sound loud enough to get everyone looking at him.

“No!” Yaga says, looking at Nanami again.

Which, okay, ouch.

“Do it yourself, then!” Nanami crosses his arms, as calm as ever. “I told you this years ago, I don’t work overtime.”

“This is not working overtime, this is part of your job.”

Ignoring Yaga completely, Nanami looks at Yuuji again, “Come here, kid.”

Yuuji nods. Even though his boss looks angry as hell ── and he can’t risk annoying him any further and losing the piece he will work on, the one that will allow him to keep an eye on Ryomen ──, Nanami has always somewhat put the fear of God into Yuuji. So, he goes. After fixing his glasses, putting his chair back up and looking rather desperately at Tsukumo for support. She doesn’t give any. Leaving him no choice but to go by himself.

Yaga is already violently shaking his head when Yuuji makes his way towards them.

But, again, Nanami’s expression doesn’t leave any room for listening to the editor-in-chief.

“You have the piece about the gala, right?” Nanami asks.

“I’ll keep an eye out for all the preparations,” Yuuji answers. As if this is some sort of test. “Follow every lead I can find to see if the event is as beneficial as they say, and closely monitor the main donor’s activity over the next few weeks.”

That meant: following Ryomen as closely as possible while having the perfect excuse for doing so.

“I pitched the article myself,” he adds, proudly.

Because he had. As soon as he left the meeting two days earlier, he called Yaga on his way to work. He pitched the article, something out of his comfort zone ── Superman related pieces, of course ──, something that could spark public interest.

Something that would keep Ryomen close.

But Nanami doesn’t seem to care about it. Not that he knows any of it. Not yet anyways. Which is far from being the actual point Yuuji is trying to make and──

“See,” Nanami looks at Yaga. “Perfect.”

“He is a child,” Yaga argues.

“How old are you?” Nanami asks, without even looking at Yuuji.

“Twenty-five,” he answers. Even though he could’ve sworn both were well aware of his age.

“Not a child, then,” Nanami shrugs. “And he will be working on a rather convincing piece. He can get as much dirt as you want on the brat.”

“What brat?”

Yaga eyes Yuuji carefully, “They are close in age. It could make him open up more.”

Nanami, who still doesn’t seem to care much, nods.

“Itadori,” Yaga says. “If you mess this up you are fired. Don’t care about any sob stories you have about making ends meet, you are fired.”

Yuuji nods, beside himself.

“I’m sorry, sir, but what can’t I mess up exactly?”

Nanami gives Yuuji his halfassed version of a pat on the back and walks away. As if saying this isn’t his burden to carry anymore, and making sure Yaga knows he wants absolutely nothing to do with this. To which the editor-in-chief simply rolls his eyes, rubbing his temples in a clear sign of stress.

“One of the donors for this gala thing,” Yaga explains. “He never leaves his hometown, but somehow has been in Tokyo for almost a week with the other billionaires.”

“And you want me to interview him?” Yuuji asks. It sounds easy enough. “I can set up an interview.”

Yaga chuckles. Which is a first, Yuuji doesn’t think he has ever heard him do that before.

“He has the strictest schedule known to man,” a sigh. “It would be a series of small interviews that will begin and end when he feels like it.”

Yeah, he can see why Nanami wouldn’t want to do that. He, himself, isn’t sure if he should do it. Not that he can deny his boss anything at that point without risking his job or his chances of keeping an eye on Sukuna.

“It can’t be that difficult.”

And, with another damn chuckle, Yaga proves him wrong with three words.

Rather, a name:

“It’s Fushiguro Megumi.”

Chapter Text

“This is a detective story,” Megumi explains.

Maki lazily raises her eyes at him, the smallest version of a smile gracing her lips. She puts her coffee mug down, and takes the book. She goes through the pages patiently, her eyes sharp as she seems to pick up on some words written down. With a sigh, then, she puts the book back on the table and looks at her cousin.

“Is this another one of your tests?” she asks, going for another sip of her coffee.

Megumi shrugs. It isn’t. And, in all fairness, he doesn’t feel exactly proud that he gave one to his cousin’s girlfriend. Especially when Kugisaki could, despite how badly he hated that, be considered one of his best friends ── he just would never tell her that, it would take away from his lone wolf persona and he doesn’t care much for losing that bit of himself.

Back then, though, she was already his friend. But it was Kugisaki’s first birthday as Maki’s girlfriend. The two of them had been orbiting each other, filled with fear and stubbornness over what might happen, ever since joining the League. It was tiring to see, really. To the point, even as Batman, Megumi would find himself wanting to intervene.

He never had to. Maki got her head out of her ass at some point. And they had to have a conversation about Catwoman meeting the family ── by family, she meant Megumi and his legal guardians. Which Megumi hated. Kugisaki was too smart not to notice the similarities between him and Batman. So, his little test was to prove she wasn’t worthy of his secret identity… How fucking wrong he was.

Catwoman had always been highly into fashion. And the one thing he knew about Kugisaki before learning her real name, was that she truly loved shopping and could be called somewhat materialistic. He knew she would hate that book. Knew that she would never read it. And might even throw it on Batman’s head.

“We’ve known each other for years,” Kugisaki had said while unwrapping the gift.

“This reminded me of you,” he had lied, kind of, as her face grew into the ugliest scowl he had ever seen. “The main character is as strong and as stubborn as you. Mostly strong. She takes no shit, which is something that annoys me about you at times. But it also makes me proud to know I have you in my life. I know you don’t care much for these types of books…”

“It’s… Fine.”

She looked up at him back then with something akin to softness in her eyes. She held onto the book as if it was the single most precious thing anyone had ever gotten her. And, despite being reluctant about sharing his identity with anyone, ever, Megumi knew she wouldn’t betray him.

Here and now, though, as Kugisaki walks into the kitchen of the apartment she shares with Maki, there is no trace of softness remaining. It is nothing but a memory. Especially when she steps closer to him to slap the back of his head before moving onto the counter to get some coffee.

“Good morning to you too,” he says, trying to fix his hair.

He can’t. He was always unable to tame the thing.

“What is the traitor doing here?” Kugisaki asks her girlfriend, sitting down next to her and completely ignoring Megumi’s presence.

“Going over some things for the gala,” Maki says. But doesn’t leave it at that. She points to the book on the table. “And testing me this time around.”

Kugisaki looks at him as if she is considering how to murder him in cold blood, then and there. Without having to deal with too big of a mess afterwards, of course. And it gets intense to the point Megumi sees the need to defend himself.

“Not a test,” he says. “Gojo asked me to bring it to you.”

Maki analyzes the book for a moment.

“Didn’t know he could read,” it comes out so genuine Megumi has to hold back a smile.

Kugisaki seems to calm down a bit with that information. She moves exactly like her girlfriend, though, putting the mug down and picking up the book to go through the pages. Allowing some words to stand out to her as she does so.

It is sickening, really. How much they know each other, and how much time they spend together. To the point that they act nearly identical in the slightest details. As if who they were separately turned into who they are combined. Something his legal guardians do as well, to the point it drove Megumi crazy when he was younger.

And, yes, he knows they are still their own individuals in many things ── the two women wouldn’t butt heads as much as they do if they weren’t. He knows they still hold their own opinions and are able to be their own people. He is not a hater. Or at least not enough to exclude that completely.

Still, it is annoying.

That two people can love each other that much to not mind becoming part of one another. That they can grow together into something different, something theirs. That they can adopt the same mannerisms and live through life similarly, because they are stronger now as a unit. That they can simply… Be. And that they don’t care.

Megumi struggles with that a lot. With simply being and not caring about anything else. He struggles, mostly of all, with how he hates being perceived. By anyone, at any time. To the point his hero persona being associated with shadows and darkness makes him feel relieved. No one can perceive Batman. They might try ── which, by itself, already annoys him to no end. But they can’t see him. He is not flying around during the day and saving kittens stuck on trees. He is no Superman.

And that… That Megumi struggles with the most.

The fact that, somewhere in his mind, he wouldn’t mind being perceived by the right person. He wouldn’t mind being seen. Being heard. Stepping out of the shadows. If someone was waiting for him in the light. With eyes that wouldn’t judge him. With a heart that wouldn’t harm him. Oh, he struggles with that so fucking much it pains him, it makes him sick.

Because whenever he allowed that thought to creep in, another one followed.

Megumi wouldn’t mind being seen. Being heard. As long as the person was…

“What do you need?” Kugisaki asks.

He blinks a couple times.

The thought, the name, slowly being lost to the constant fog in his mind.

Kugisaki isn’t patient enough to wait for him to figure out what she means, “For the gala?”

He clears his throat, “Maki is helping out with my schedule.”

“Is she your assistant?” Kugisaki bites back.

Maki chuckles, “He means I’m helping him figure out how to keep an eye on Sukuna. Which events to go to, and which ones to avoid so he won’t cause too much suspicion.”

“It’s not like I’m known for attending every single party in town.”

Kugisaki eyes him curiously, “Why are you even here?”

“I’m… What?” he blinks, trying to figure out if he has missed something again. “Maki is helping me with──”

“I mean in town,” Kugisaki waves her hand dismissively. “You were here three days before the meeting. And, as you said, you are not known for attending parties.”

Maki nods, “And you hate Tokyo.”

“I don’t hate Tokyo,” he argues. “I dislike Shibuya.”

Kugisaki crosses her arms, looking him up and down, “Why are you here?”

“Gojo,” he says, simply. “This event is for a charity he deems important. But he is not exactly loved by the general public at the moment.”

“Romancing a super villain will do that to you,” Maki nods.

And, before he can stop himself, Megumi says: “There is nothing super about Geto.”

ㅤ

ㅤ

Seeing his cousin proves to be the highlight of his week quite quickly.

And, yes, maybe she is right ── even if he would never, ever, admit it to her. He doesn’t like Tokyo that much. There is too much noise, everything seems brighter than his eyes would care for. As if each day is a headache waiting to happen.

People are nice, for the most part. Which he quickly notices has something to do with Superman and his overly cheery persona. He has, as far as Megumi can see, made people kinder somehow. Something no amount of effort could get him to pull off back home.

Still, people being nice, and Tokyo itself seeming safer by the minute, doesn’t change the fact that Megumi would rather be anywhere else.

He won’t lie… He is, in fact, used to visiting from time to time. Not only is Jujutsu Tech here, but Superman’s origins mean that most of his issues are otherworldly related. And, even if he can handle most of it by himself, from time to time that calls for some sort of backup ── after all, Superman can’t fight aliens and worry about small crimes happening around the city all at once.

But visiting as Batman, doing his job and leaving, is totally different from visiting as Fushiguro Megumi. There is no mask to hide behind, no amount of makeup around his eyes to hide each detail he can think of. There is nothing stopping people from perceiving him in any way shape or form. Even his crazy schedule over the next few days, or weeks, doesn’t stop it ── he can’t, after all, work from inside a hotel room. In fact he is pretty sure his schedule only makes things worse.

Gojo’s company, the one Megumi is now the CEO of, has been trying to get him to leave town for years. They want to show the world the new person in charge is as good as the one before him, if not better. Despite the fact that Megumi was, and there was public record of that, raised by Gojo himself. According to the head of marketing, Megumi still being a Fushiguro in name gave people the idea that he also went against what his legal guardian stood for. And the company had been trying to use that for years. The only problem? Megumi would give them nothing to work with.

See, yes, he hates going to those events with a passion. Hates the amount of photoshoots they had scheduled for the week, the amount of meetings with different subsidiaries or companies they were looking to buy. He does like the charity they are helping. But there are too many small events over the span of three weeks, leading up to the big gala. And Megumi hates the sheer amount of things he had to do for those. He hates that this entire thing ── weeks of gathering money for a good cause ── turn into a big PR stunt for the place he occupies in Limitless Enterpraises now.

But, most of all, he hates what the name Gojo Satoru has come to.

There shouldn’t be this great need to make Megumi look better than his legal guardian. Despite how insufferably annoying Gojo can be at times ── and by that Megumi means most of the time ──, he is still a good person at his core. Who has fought his entire life, literally and figuratively, for kids like Megumi and many others. Gojo doesn’t see the best in people. He sees their worst, he sees every flaw the human being has to offer, and that allows him to see who is truly capable of change. Who deserves a second chance.

Gojo is better than what the media makes of him.

So, there shouldn’t be this great need to force Megumi into situations he didn’t care to be in. Like the photoshoots for magazine covers and ‘Under Thirty’ lists. Or meetings with people that were looking out for their necks, and waiting for a check. Much less ── and he nearly killed his assistant when she gave him the news ── a fucking interview.

Or, even worse, a series of bite sized interviews neatly packed into his schedule.

The first happening only a few hours after the stupid brunch he had to go to that Thursday.

“Mr. Fushiguro,” the lady at the hotel lobby smiles politely at him. “We have accommodated you in our best meeting room.”

His head immediately hurts as he sighs, “Is he already here?”

“No, sir,” she says after looking at the computer in front of her. “But we already prepared the room if you’d like to step in first.”

He nods.

He wouldn’t, in fact, like to step in at all. But he follows her through the lobby towards the elevators. He allows her to press the correct button for the conference floor. And dutifully walks behind her through the hallways. Until they reach a big wooden door. The golden number one on it seems to have been polished recently. And the room smells faintly of lavender.

She offers him some tea and some water as he waits. Then leaves him be.

Megumi tries his best not to look through his phone. But, as the minutes drag on and he finishes his tea, it turns into the only thing he can actually do to keep his hands, and mind, busy. He is already terrible at interviews, only having done a grand total of three in his lifetime. He can’t add being anxious on top of it. Even if he can already feel his palms getting sweaty. And the fabric of his suit becomes a bit too much, rubbing against his skin.

By the time the door opens again, Megumi is on the verge of a full on mental breakdown.

Still, he looks up.

To be honest, he is expecting to see a tall man, strong and with blonde hair, wearing sunglasses and a scowl that seems to be cemented to his face. At least those are the descriptions Gojo had given him when he called home to complain about the interviews he’d have to endure over the next couple of weeks. “Nanami,” Gojo had assured him. “An old… Friend. Even though I don’t think he will say the same. He will treat you well.”

The only reason Megumi had agreed to this, the only reason why he would agree to anything nowadays: Gojo needed him to do it. Gojo wanted to be in Tokyo for the event, but couldn’t be seen close to any charities without some ounce of speculation regarding a hidden motive. Something related to his life choices or whatever. Gojo would love to catch up with an old friend ── his words, not Megumi’s ──, to simply see how things had been going in Tokyo. He would love to give interviews and talk about the importance of helping the youth. But couldn’t. Not without some ounce of speculation regarding… Something. Anything.

So, yes, Megumi begrudgingly accepted these interviews.

But only because Nanami and Gojo were acquainted. Had even worked together for ages. As far as Megumi was concerned Gojo saw Nanami as a friend. And the only reason why Nanami wouldn’t say the same about Gojo was purely because he had never respected Gojo enough to do so.

Taking all that into consideration, Megumi could rely on him to take it as easy as someone with his personality could ── again, his legal guardian’s words, not his. Nanami would ask some hard-hitting questions. But wouldn’t pry. Especially on the one thing everyone seemed to wish to learn something about. Something Nanami had no reason to ask, because he lived through it. He knew.

So, it is a bit earth shattering that there is a man, roughly his age, at the door.

Two things hit Megumi as he watches the pink-haired mess stumble into the room.

First: he knows him. He is not sure where, he is not sure how. The hair itself could, and should, be a tell. But there is something off about the man. As if this is not his entire truth. The slightly slouched posture, as if he had not once sat straight in his life. The messy hair, to the point that it seems done on purpose. And the glasses. Things Megumi is not familiar with, but his heart… Oh, his heart beats as if he was.

The second, and most devastating thing: he is fucked. He is not sure why, he is not sure how. But every alarm in his brain is going off, as his heart runs a marathon in his chest. Look, he is not one to believe in love at first sight, not even attraction at first sight ── those things need to be built with care. But he knows there is something happening. And he knows, he is sure, he will live to regret it.

“Oh,” the pink-haired man says. “Hello, I’m Itadori Yuuji. Nice to meet you!”

He bows slightly, a clear sign of respect.

And Megumi is nervous. He is sweaty. He wants to run away. He wants to say put.

He wants to say something.

Itadori looks at him, smiles softly and blushes.

And Megumi wants to say something.

“Are you here with Nanami Kento?” is the one thing his brain can process.

Itadori blinks a couple times, “No. He’s not coming?”

“Is that a question?”

He blinks again, “No, sorry. I thought they would have told you… I’ll be the one interviewing you. Nanami is… Busy.”

“Busy?” he scoffs. “Yeah, someone said that was a possibility.”

To be fair, Itadori doesn’t even seem offended by it. He is professional about it. He closes the door with a soft click, taking a chair at the end of the big table. Far enough from Megumi that it doesn’t look too casual, but close enough that they don’t have to scream in order to communicate. He doesn’t even seem to care about Megumi’s annoyance. Itadori simply grabs his pen and notepad, putting them on top of the table nicely as he finds a recorder in his backpack. Even if Megumi can see his mess from far away, each movement Itadori makes seems gentle. As if he is dealing with a feral cat.

Honestly, Megumi is not sure if that offends him or not.

“I’m going to start recording whenever you are ready,” Itadori says, finding an empty page to write on. His notes seem as chaotic as everything else about him. But he does eventually land on a blank one he can use. “Since this is our first interview I don’t have much prepared.”

“Why not?” Megumi hates how judgy he sounds.

He doesn’t mean to judge. He is just… Curious, that’s all.

Itadori chuckles, scratching the nape of his neck as he shrugs.

“I mean, you don’t give out many interviews, so I didn’t think you’d feel comfortable with me asking a bunch of scripted questions at once,” he looks down at the blank page. “Which now I noticed is not very professional of me.”

“No,” Megumi says, voice a bit softer. “It isn’t.”

“Oh.”

“But you were right,” he admits. “I wouldn’t feel… Good answering those right now.”

Itadori’s smile is blinding. It feels a bit too familiar. As if Megumi’s soul had seen it a hundred lifetimes before. It makes him feel warm, melty, and all the things he shouldn’t.

“Well, I’m glad I didn’t prepare it then,” Itadori clicks his pen. “So, let me know when you’re ready to start… And if you want anything to be off record just let me know before saying it. So I can stop the recording or ignore that part when writing things down.”

Megumi nods. He doesn’t think he will ever be ready to give this interview.

But, for the first time in years, he is willing to try.

Itadori presses the record button.

“So, Fushiguro Megumi,” Itadori says his name with care. “Tell me a little bit about yourself.”

“I mean,” he clears his throat. “Isn’t most of my life public information at this point?”

Itadori thinks for a second, “Most, but not all.”

“All that matters, yes.”

“I doubt that’s all that matters about you.”

“That my parents died when I was a kid, I was somewhat adopted by an eccentric billionaire with too much spare time… And now own his company?” Megumi shrugs. “I’d say that’s all that matters to the general public.”

Without thinking, without even blinking, Itadori asks: “Do you have any pets?”

“Pets?”

“I find that information important, it says a lot about someone if they like pets.”

Without thinking, without even blinking, Megumi replies: “I like animals more than I like people, that one is for sure.”

Itadori laughs. It’s a nerve wrecking sound, in the best way possible.

“If I was an evil reporter, I’d make a headline about you thinking animals have more rights than human beings, you know?”

“They do.”

Itadori laughs again, “For your reputation’s sake, I will keep that off record.”

Megumi eyes him curiously.

He is mistrusting, has always been. That’s one of the many reasons why he hates giving interviews. He doesn’t trust people not to change his words, take away minor context clues, and make him seem like an awful human being. He doesn’t trust people, at all.

So, it is in his nature to think Itadori is full of it.

It is.

Yet, he doesn’t.

For some unknown reason, he doesn’t find himself doubting every word that comes out of Itadori’s mouth. Even if he doesn’t trust Itadori fully… He also doesn’t doubt him. And that is… Fucked. Because Megumi is fucked.

“What would an evil reporter do?” he finds himself asking.

Itadori doesn’t complain that he steers the topic away from himself. In fact, he seems to think about the topic carefully, “You won’t like the answer.”

He sighs, knowing what will come, “Try me.”

“Ask about your parents for starters. Who they were, what connection did they have with Gojo Satoru,” Itadori touches his bottom lip with his pen, as if trying to think harder about it. “On the Gojo Satoru topic, one would ask about Geto Suguru, obviously.”

“Obviously?” Megumi sounds as annoyed as he feels. “I thought I was the main topic of this interview, not Geto.”

“But… He is an important figure in your life.”

“Is he?”

“If not important, controversial,” he corrects himself. “He was a well known villain. He fought the last Jujutsu League for years before disappearing. And, when he came back, he claimed to have been reformed and married Gojo Satoru.”

There was more to the story than just that.

Geto was always meant to be part of the League before he went rogue. He was part of the unofficial teenage brand of the League ── the same that trained a young Batman ages ago. He was meant to do good things, alongside Nanami, Gojo and Ieiri. Until he went rogue.

Gojo never told Megumi much about what happened.

All he knows, all he has ever known, is that this happened around the time Megumi was adopted. The same mission where Gojo was unable to save Megumi’s parents. The one Megumi himself had witnessed… It changed Geto more than anyone else could ever comprehend. Or, perhaps, it was the one thing that made him accept a change that was already happening inside of him.

To the general public, though, Geto Suguru was a monster.

He fought Doctor Manhattan on and on and on. Became public enemy number one. And, somehow, the strongest hero to have ever lived ── stronger than even Superman would come to be ──, a man compared to a God most of the time… Could never beat him.

To the general public that meant there needed to be a new group of heroes. The League was already becoming too old in their eyes. To the general public, Geto lost interest in his own evil plans. He lost purpose, found it all too boring. But was like a dormant beast waiting to be set free once again. A permanent stain in Gojo’s life.

To Megumi?

Well, Geto was Gojo’s partner, yes. But not only that.

Geto was Megumi’s first introduction to the concept of real forgiveness. And, even if he would never admit it out loud, Gojo’s love for Geto was something out of this world. There was loyalty there that didn’t falter. Not even when they fought each other. Not even when they let each other win. They trusted that they would find their way back, however that looked like for them. And they did.

It took Geto dying for it to happen. Even if he didn’t stay dead for long.

So, there was more to it all than a supposedly reformed villain marrying a billionaire.

Something Megumi couldn’t mention.

“Off the record?” he asks.

Itadori makes a point of completely turning off the recorder in front of him.

“Geto isn’t as bad as people think,” he shrugs. “For some things he is way worse. And I would never go as far as calling him a good person. But… He is good for Gojo, and that’s all I could and would ever ask of him.”

Itadori eyes him for a moment, “That’s very sweet.”

And, well, fuck, Megumi doesn’t know what to say to that. No one has ever called him sweet before. Not without that underlying tone of mockery. Not without sarcasm dripping from every letter. Not with this much truth.

Luckily enough, he doesn’t have to answer.

Itadori seems to catch something in the air. Like a dog hearing a sound meant only for non-human hearing. He looks up slightly, trying to figure something out. And… Whatever he comes back with doesn’t satisfy him enough to stay put.

With a sharp movement, he gets up.

“Sorry, I just remembered I left the oven on back home,” he is a terrible liar, Megumi can immediately tell. “I have to go… But… Here…”

He scribbles something down and nearly throws a piece of paper in Megumi's direction.

“Your assistant seemed uncertain about which time would work better for you, so message me whenever you feel ready for another interview.”

“Message you?”

“Yes, yes, it will be quicker and you can do it at your own time and rules.”

Oh, no one had ever truly given him his own time before.

He nods, uncertain of what to say next besides… “Thank you, Itadori.”

Itadori’s face turns a light shade of pink as he smiles towards Megumi, “You are welcome, Fushiguro.”

And with that smile, and Megumi’s beating heart, Itadori simply… Leaves.

Chapter Text

Superman arrives in Shinjuku mere seconds after Yuuji runs out through the back door of Fughiguro’s hotel. The alley in which he ended up was empty enough that he didn’t have to think about flying away without being seen. So, it can’t have possibly been more than two minutes since he heard the first scream. Yet, the scene he gets to is… Horrifying.

Maybe not as bad as it could be, considering the creatures he has fought over the years as Superman. But the idea that all of that could be done in minutes… It’s scary. It shows an immense amount of power and seems almost like someone is trying to make a point.

See, when Yuuji was still in the meeting room ── feeling his cheeks turn as pink as his hair with every word coming out of Fushiguro’s mouth, something he didn’t want to fully think about at the time ── he heard something off in the distance. A sound he knew for a fact shouldn’t be heard on such a large scale, the same sound he would hear when sitting too close to the ice machine in Choso and Yuki’s apartment. A sound only he seemed to be able to hear, indicating the exact second water turns into ice.

The sound itself was enough to get that feeling in his chest that people of Japan, and the rest of the world, needed him.

Then, came the scream. It wasn’t the same as when something deadly happened. It didn’t come from the same spot in people’s gut that would create some of the worst sounds Yuuji has ever heard ── a mother’s despair being a very good example. No, this one wasn’t like it. Even if it clearly came from a place of fear. It almost felt like the confusion was greater than the fear itself.

But it was a scream nonetheless. And that was enough for him to get out of the meeting room and find an alleyway to fly from.

Being in Shinjuku, though, Superman can finally tell he understands it.

He, himself, is both horrified and confused at the same damn time.

There is ice everywhere.

It doesn’t look like snow, that’s clear from the moment Yuuji catches a glimpse of it. So, it is not as if there was a sudden snowstorm during the wrong season. The ice isn’t simply covering the streets in small bits and pieces. It has, for a matter of fact, taken over everything.

The streets are frozen. Literally frozen. Almost as if Superman is flying over a lake during winter, perfect for ice skating and whatnot, and not over a busy street. The buildings don’t look much better themselves. There is a thick wall of ice covering most of them. Turning the customary glow of the big screens all over the street into something almost ghost-like.

In the middle of it all stands a person.

He can’t quite make out who it is from afar. All he sees is white hair, with some pinkish stains ── which is the best explanation he can give to whatever that is ── on it, and centuries old clothing turning it quite difficult to understand who they are. Almost as if this person was detached from everything Yuuji knows.

Superman flies closer.

Or, at least, he tries to. But a wall of ice shows up in front of him, forcing him to stop himself mere seconds before hitting it.

This wall is dangerous.

Not only because the ice seems to be stronger than a rock. But because it isn’t holding on to anything. It is not like the ones on the floor and on the buildings, that seem to have used the structures to grow ── making Yuuji briefly theorize that the ice couldn’t just appear out of nowhere, needing some of the existing water in the environment to form. It would be easier to deal with this if that was the case. This wall, though, proves it isn’t.

It is almost twenty stories high and it’s solid. Superman even touches it to make sure.

The wall feels a bit too familiar. Almost as if he is walking around his fortress of solitude. Almost as if it is out of this world. Unbreakable and untamable, much like people would like to describe Superman. A force greater than human nature.

Yuuji sighs, trying to think quickly.

He gets momentum, flying around the wall and moving towards the person responsible for it with full force. This time around he is expecting another wall to appear in front of him. He is, in fact, waiting for it. And, when it does, he uses his heat vision ── and hopes for the best.

Superman is glad to find that the ice is, for all intents and purposes, natural to Earth. However it is made, and with wherever it comes from, it is, in its core, human-like. The wall breaks in half when the heat vision strikes it. And Yuuji takes a moment to grab the falling part as it goes towards the ground. He puts it down gently, landing right after it and walking towards the person awaiting him.

“Who are you?” he asks, loud and proud. With the confidence Superman has to have in order to fight his enemies.

They don’t answer.

Now, closer, Yuuji can see they are slightly on the shorter side. Their eyes seem tired, as if they have seen many renditions of this Earth and have suffered for most of it. They don’t look as evil upclose. But Superman had learned, a long time ago, that the saying “a book shouldn’t be judged by its cover” goes both ways ── you can’t assume someone is bad just by looking at them, and you, with all certainty, can never simply assume someone is good; goodness has to be shown, and proven, and kept.

“What do you want?” he insists.

And, yes, in general, Yuuji hates silence for many reasons. His own brain is always too fast and too loud, so quiet allows it to fester those noises more than usual. Also, silence feels unnatural to him most of the time ── something Maki had blamed on his great amount of cheeryness ──. he can’t comprehend it. He can’t dissect it like one would do with words and noises. Silence makes him think of space. His first memory. Travelling to Earth, all by himself. His infant mind associating silence with loss of hope for the rest of time after this.

Not only that ── even if he is sure those reasons were enough ──, but meeting Inumaki added a new layer to it.

Superman can be powerful, he can be loved and feared by many. But his voice could never alter the fabric of reality the way The Prophet's does. Inumaki would stay silent most of the time. Relying on how well his friends read his facial expression to translate his thoughts to others. Staying around him for long, Yuuji finds, is comfortable despite the lack of sound. But that doesn’t make the silence less scary.

Especially if, when in first contact with The Prophet, villains would just assume he… Doesn’t speak. Or doesn’t care enough to do so. Until Inumaki opens his mouth. Until he changes the game, and wins without much apparent physical effort ── knowing him has also taught Yuuji a little about the weight words carry.

So, just in case, Superman approaches them with care.

His steps are steady, but not overly threatening. Which adds to his preference, and belief, of resolving any conflict with words rather than actions. He doesn’t like fighting, to be honest. Even if it comes with the job description most of the time. Yuuji has more faith in humanity than assuming everything will be solved with a punch.

That’s why his next words to them are:

“Look, I’m not sure who you are and what you want,” he says, carefully.

To his relief, they answer, “You will in no time.”

Their face remains stoic, even their voice fluctuates between threatening and being completely done with this situation. As if, yes, they have their convictions. But they cannot, and will not, care enough to show them to the world the way most people would expect.

Superman nods, “Good.”

“Good?”

“If I know who you are and what you want, we can solve this without anyone getting hurt.”

There is the smallest change in their expression, a very brief wave of shock, “You will.”

“It’s okay,” Superman says, honestly. “As long as the people around us stay safe.”

Even without looking around, Yuuji can see them.

The people inside the buildings, banging on the windows and asking for help. Not knowing he is there, ready to save all of them. The ones unsure of what is happening, but that were told to stand back and not go into the streets. The people in the streets that had to run into the first building they saw as the ground began to freeze ── and were now stuck in said buildings.

Yuuji can see all of them. He can hear them, and their heartbeats, and he is here simply to be sure they will be fine. That the ice won’t hurt them. That they will get home and all of this would be just a story they tell their families in a couple days.

It is a good thought, he reckons, a good plan.

The person in front of him, though, doesn’t seem to agree.

They scoff, and Yuuji is pretty sure they roll their eyes, “Nice try.”

And, before he is able to comprehend what that’s supposed to mean, spiked ice is flying in his direction. Even if he is sure those can’t kill him, or even fully hurt him for that matter, he knows they will be annoying to deal with. So, he flies up, trying to get out of its way.

The ice follows him. Turning upwards and going at full speed.

As he looks down, Superman uses his heat vision again. Melting the ice mere seconds before the first one hits him.

And, just like that, the fight proves to be endless.

Whoever this person is, they are strong and quick. They can create enough ice to protect themselves before Yuuji even has the chance to approach them. He doesn’t even get the chance of landing a good punch or something that will destabilize them long enough for him to melt everything and get them away from any civilization.

So, they attack. With many different techniques and many different forms. But it is, at the end of the day, all ice. And ice can melt. So, that’s what Yuuji does.

They are both fast in a similar sense. Even if Superman still has his inhuman speed, this person’s mind is equally quick. They don’t have to move, after all, standing on the same exact spot Yuuji first saw them in, using ice to protect themselves ── and clearly try to tire Superman.

“Give up!” Yuuji shouts.

It is the first time, in what feels like hours, that both are just standing there. Yuuji is no longer flying. His both feet are on the ground, simply waiting for what comes next. And the person in front of him doesn’t move a muscle, doesn’t conjure more ice. They both stand still. Looking at each other, waiting for who will make the next move.

“You could’ve killed me,” they say.

Which, well, Yuuji knows. Many times he had to hold back his own powers in order not to kill them. Using his heat vision just enough to melt the ice, but never enough to hurt them. Because, and this is very important to him, Superman doesn’t kill. It isn’t in his values, and it isn’t in his nature. He finds a way to detain each creature he comes across if necessary. He finds a way to take them away from civilization and decide where to go from there, without people around to get hurt. He does whatever he can to keep them breathing. Despite how long it takes to do so, despite how hard it can get. Because there is always a better way.

Much like there is one here, now.

“There is always a better way,” he says, simply.

They scoff again, “Of course.”

“Don’t believe me?” Superman asks. “Talk it out with me, let’s handle this.”

“One day,” they say, truly looking at Yuuji now. “It will be either you or someone more powerful. It will be between killing or being killed.”

“One day,” Yuuji echoes. Even if he doesn’t agree with it, not fully. He is not naive enough to think this day will never come. But he holds enough hope in his heart to wish for it. “But not today. Not here.”

And, with the faintest wicked smile Yuuji has ever seen, they say: “But soon.”

Before Yuuji can grasp this. Before he can even comprehend that as a promise, as a threat, the next wall of ice that shows up does so right in front of him. It grows from the ground up, which happens so close to his feet that it knocks Superman down in a loud thud.

He takes a few seconds to process everything. To melt the wall and get ready for another attack.

But it never comes.

With the wall gone, Yuuji looks at the spot he had come to expect them to be at.

And, in horror, he sees it… They disappeared.

ㅤ

ㅤ

The line rings at least six times.

Which is odd, considering Gojo would normally apologize after the third ring for taking too long to pick up. It is something he has always done, to be fair. From Megumi’s childhood, up to his now adulthood. Gojo would make a point of showing him he wasn’t alone. That he was always a phone call away, and a quick one at that. Be it during one of Gojo’s travels, where the time difference should make it impossible for him to answer quickly. Or when both were on separate sides of the mansion. Gojo was always there.

To be completely honest, and fair, there were times Gojo would take longer to answer.

But those were few and far between, and mostly happened when Doctor Manhattan was still active. A being made of God-power shouldn’t be seen picking up the phone mid fight. Especially when half of the world considered him too strong, and a threat to humanity as a whole. A danger, as many had called him back in the day. So, Gojo wouldn’t immediately answer during a fight. But he would make less of an effort to hide his powers ── winning faster to pick up the phone before it went to voicemail.

The two times Gojo failed to answer Megumi in a timely manner after the superhero had retired was… Well, to be with Geto. It was early on in their newly found relationship. Before Megumi became something like a son to both of them, and no longer was just seen as an extension of Gojo that Geto had to deal with.

After Geto Suguru became his legal guardian as well ── something more symbolic than truly legal ──, Gojo would always be there when he called. Only to rings away.

See, despite how badly Megumi wants to pretend none of this affects him, despite how much he tries to hide his care and genuine love for Gojo and their family, he worries. He has always worried. And something weird lodges in the back of his throat as the line stays unanswered. Something that turns into annoyance quite quickly as he hears:

“My boy,” Gojo is smiling. “I was wondering when you’d call.”

“What happened?” he finds himself asking before he can stop himself.

It takes Gojo a second or two before answering. And Megumi can all but hear him biting back the biggest smile known to man ── alongside the mocking ‘oh, you care’ Gojo must be nearly dying to say.

“Suguru,” there is affection dripping from every syllable. It’s gentle, it’s sickening. “Wanted me to try a new recipe he saw.”

“You? Doesn’t he know you grew up with people cooking for you?”

Gojo laughs.

“Which is why the firefighters were almost called, yes.”

“Did you burn down our kitchen?”

“Of course not,” he pouts, at least Megumi can hear something in his voice that indicates that’s what he’s doing. “We do need to get a new oven. But I have someone looking into it.”

“I left you alone for nearly two weeks, and that’s all,” Megumi says. Plopping down on his bed with a frustrated sigh. “How can you act this much like a child, you are a grown──”

“Megumi.”

“What?”

There’s that hint of affection ── the one Gojo has always kept aside for him, and him alone, fatherly without crossing the line ── when he speaks again: “Why did you call?”

Oh, that.

For a moment Megumi himself can’t quite remember. Too worked up on the idea that his home could be in flames. Even if he doubts that Gojo would allow it to get to that before intervening with his powers.

So, he has to take a few step backs before being able to answer.

After being left alone in the meeting room, Megumi made his way back to his room. It was early, and he wasn’t one for naps despite being extremely tired. So, he took a bath. He stayed submerged as long as possible, then went back to his room. He went through some of the meetings he would have in the upcoming days, and worked on some projects to get his mind off things.

Calling Gojo wasn’t on his plans.

Megumi ordered room service. Some tea and a few snacks. Waited for it to arrive, and went through his surveillance system. One he had set in place before leaving Fukuyama to make sure everything would be okay in his absence. Unlike Superman’s, his threats never had that underlying promise of destroying the world. Batman fought a crime too close to the actual nature of human beings. Trying to reform his city in the process. Something he was, step by step, accomplishing. Even if slowly and steadily. Case in point? Everything seemed calm back home. While a Kryptonian walked around Tokyo with nefarious plans no one knew about.

While eating, Megumi went through his schedule for the upcoming events.

That memory triggers the reason for the call: Megumi eyed carefully the empty spots in his schedule, where his assistant had put small question marks to remind him of his possible interviews. He had called Gojo to complain.

“You said Nanami would interview me,” he says.

“I said he might interview you.”

In the distance, Megumi can hear Geto’s voice saying: “You said he would, Satoru.”

Geto sounds almost reprimanding. Almost. But even when he tries to scold Gojo for something, he sounds too adoring to come off as he wishes. As if Gojo was a spoiled child he couldn’t wait to adorn with even more gifts and praises. Which, knowing the two of them, isn’t that far from the truth.

“I said he would if it was within working hours,” Gojo answers both at the same time.

“It was, and he wasn’t there.”

“Which was also a possibility from the start,” he says, simply.

“One you didn’t tell me about.”

It takes a moment, very brief, but Gojo sighs, “You survived it, as I knew you would.”

“Yes, because the journalist wasn’t a pain in my ass,” Megumi bites back. “Which he could’ve been, considering the people I’m associated with.”

“Your parents.”

“I’m not your kid.”

And he hates how childish, and very much like Gojo’s kid, he sounds.

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“Many things can fool you,” he bites back, still sounding petty enough to make Gojo proud.

Gojo chuckles, “So, the interview went great?”

“Oh?” Geto says, in the background.

Megumi hates that he feels his cheeks heating up to the mere thought of Itadori. He isn’t supposed to blush. He doesn’t blush. He doesn’t, okay?

“I survived it,” he says, trying to hide any ounce of reaction he might have to Itadori Yuuji. A man he barely knows should not be getting any reactions out of him. Especially not those. Especially not in front of his legal annoyances. “That’s all.”

“You didn’t call me to say you are coming home, I call that great.”

And Geto sounds genuinely surprised when he asks: “He isn’t?”

“No!” Gojo replies. And then, after a beat, he adds: “You aren’t, right?”

Megumi sighs. Fuck, home doesn’t sound half bad right now. But he could never leave. Not when Superman needs him ── all of them. Not when Superman needs all of them there to help. Megumi’s fatal flaw will always be caring too much about people. And that seems to grow whenever the Kryptonian is around. He needs to make sure Superman is fine, safe. Even if he can care for himself well enough, Megumi wants to be there. Megumi wants to help, to care, to protect.

“I’m not,” he clears his throat. “A friend needs my help in town.”

“A friend,” Gojo repeats carefully.

See, his legal annoyances have teased him to no end because of Superman. Be it the amount of time they have spent together in the past, or the amount of jobs they took each other even without great necessity. Their friendship, and the fact that Megumi was hell-bent on them not knowing who they were outside of the League, were a topic of conversation over many meals over at their house.

But maybe ── and don’t tell Gojo he ever thinks that ── it’s a parental thing. But Gojo doesn’t tease this time around. He is careful. Almost gentle about it. He most likely knows Megumi is worried sick about something.

“If either one of you needs anything…”

“It’s fine,” he lies.

Having Gojo around could mean an easy victory. Most of the time it would. The one villain he was never able to fight, the one he lost to from time to time, was Geto himself. And that wasn’t for a lack of power. It was for an awful amount of love. So, yes. Even if Doctor Manhattan would make things easier, even if it would give Megumi some peace of mind, he would never ask that of Gojo.

Retiring took so much from him. Giving up on helping others in the literal sense ── even if he never truly did ── and allowing people like Batman to go out there demanded too much. Yes, Gojo would still donate loads of money, had charities of his own, and had many plans set in place to care for kids with abilities. Gojo was, by himself, saving the lives of many people. But not doing it the same hands on way he was used to… Hurt. Watching people drag Doctor Manhattan’s name through the mud… Hurt.

And coming back would both give him a glimpse of the past and ruin his future.

Megumi could never put any of that at risk.

“You sure?”

No, he isn’t. And, at the same time…

“I am,” he sounds certain. “We just need to figure some things out. No need to dust off your uniform.”

It doesn’t surprise him that Geto’s voice sounds a bit closer now than it did before. As if he has taken a few steps towards his husband, only to serve as the thing grounding him.

“And will you do more interviews?”

The sudden change in topic is welcome, but confusing.

Megumi blinks a couple times, “I’m not sure.”

“If you survived one, you can survive more,” Gojo says.

“That’s what you think.”

“I know.”

And the worst part? Megumi knows as well. He is not sure why, which annoys him. But he is sure being interviewed by Itadori will be alright. He won’t feel seen in the worst way possible. He won’t… Hate it as much as he thought he would. He might even enjoy it ── despite hating the mere thought of enjoying such a thing. Itadori will make all of it okay. A thought that scares him to no end, but feels as real as any other he has ever had.

With a sigh, as he allows Gojo to talk about their day and the almost disaster they had in the kitchen, Megumi gets up and walks towards the closet. He finds the piece of paper with numbers scribbled down inside the pocket of his suit. He holds it close to his chest for a moment.

Unsure of what any of that means.

But certain that he will message Itadori as soon as this call ends. As soon as he can.