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“Satoru? You awake yet?”
Satoru’s lashes flutter open to the calm face of Geto Suguru, softly smiling down at him. A bed of pillows and beanbags cradles Satoru’s aching limbs, which sprawl out around him. Warm-toned string lights hang around the room, illuminating slightly neglected corners littered with cobwebs, and the aroma of freshly baked pastries insulates the room.
Yawning, Satoru rolls onto his back and gazes dreamily up at Suguru.
With long dark half tied up in a lazy knot, Suguru is dressed in a comfortable, oversized button-up that falls to reveal his clavicle and loose-fitting sweatpants. His thin fingers are adorned with a selection of ornately sculpted rings, and they delicately cradle Satoru’s favourite cup, presumably filled with tea.
“That’s my shirt,” Satoru’s lips curl into a small smirk.
“It found its way into my laundry, so I figured I should get to wear it as a reward for cleaning it.” Suguru tugs the soft blue cotton back over his shoulder and crouches down beside Satoru.
Satoru’s palm sinks into the soft, feather pillow at his side as he props himself up to gratefully accept the tea offered to him. Suguru’s hand guides Satoru’s fingers to close around the cup, perfectly tracing the familiar groves between Satoru’s knuckles.
“Smells amazing in here. Have you been baking?” Satoru asks and places a small kiss on the tips of Suguru’s fingers.
Suguru rises and moves to a nearby side table to retrieve a length of white silk. “Yes. I wanted to keep the little one entertained for a while,” Suguru replies and sits behind Satoru. He allows the white-haired boy to lean into the dip of his sternum, rakes back Satoru’s hair and smirks when Satoru purrs at the sensation of fingers on his scalp. “Lean forward a little.” Deft hands lay the silk over the narrow bridge of Satoru’s nose and begin to wind it around his brow until his eyes are adequately covered.
Satoru breathes a relieved sigh as the world around him quietens. He leans back into Suguru’s lap and reaches for a hand so that he can guide it back to his scalp.
It’s good to be home, Satoru thinks, soaking in the first moment of peace they have shared in weeks. ‘Home’ is not one place for Satoru; it can be anywhere. Home is curled up in bed on a Saturday morning, hypnotised by the heartbeat against his ear. Home is squeezed into the seating at a yatai, where intertwined fingers anchor his overwhelmed senses. Home is rushing through the streets, falling blossoms kissing his skin, wind weaving through his hair, secured to the back of a bike by an embrace.
Because anywhere is home as long as he can feel Suguru against his skin.
“Did he set anything on fire, or is he a future pastry chef?”
“He’s been a good boy,” Suguru chuckles softly.
Satoru searches the room for the child and finds him scrunched up on the floor, leaning over a book.
The boy runs his fingers down the page and mouths the words as he goes. He wears a cheap pair of headphones that are far too big for him, nestled into erratic ebony hair. The wire snakes down to a Discman that sits next to his knee, and he sways from side to side, presumably in time with whatever he is listening to.
“What’s his name, by the way?” Suguru asks, gently tracing his finger’s down Satoru’s temples and cheekbones.
Satoru laughs, rolling his neck back against Suguru’s thighs so that his chin and neck are exposed. “You didn’t ask him?”
“He was very averse to talking about himself,” Suguru explains as he massages in tiny circles along Satoru’s jaw. “He kept asking me when Tsumiki would be here, so I’ve learnt a lot about her. And I learned the hard way that he doesn’t like the name Zen’in.”
“Oh, yeah, Zen’in isn’t a name he’s grown up with.”
“See, you didn’t tell me that. You said, ‘He’s a Zen’in’ , then passed out for 3 hours.” Suguru chuckles and sharply prods Satoru’s cheek.
Satoru turns his head to attempt to bite Suguru’s finger and receives a gentle tap for doing so. He’s been exhausted lately. No matter how often Suguru and Shoko force his glasses into his hand and insist he rests, he’s ignored them. Maybe he’s been a little more uncharacteristically paranoid than usual, but why have Six Eyes if not to use them?
He knows that’s an irresponsible way to think. And he’s certainly paying for it now because he feels like he’s run 50 laps and been through a tumble drier. So, when Suguru lays his fingers over Satoru’s eyelids and paints slow lines on the silk blindfold, it is the equivalent of a weekend spa break for Satoru’s mind and body.
“What can I say? I was sleepy,” Satoru grins. He places his hands over Suguru’s and holds them over his eyes for a few moments while he takes a deep relaxing breath. “Thank you for looking after him.”
Their fingers slowly interlace, and Satoru brings them to his lips to press feathery kisses to Suguru’s knuckles. Then Suguru untangles his legs to place them on either side of Satoru, and Satoru shifts his body up to rest against Suguru’s shoulder.
“Megumi,” Satoru says softly, turning his face toward the boy. “His name is Megumi.”
“Megumi.” Suguru repeats. “That’s pretty.”
Satoru hums in agreement. “An unusual name for a boy.”
“I suppose,” Suguru wraps his arms around Satoru’s chest. “It means ‘blessing’ . Perhaps he was one.”
Megumi’s small nose wrinkles as he brings his face close to the page he’s reading. Under his breath, he is muttering a sound over and over and poking at the paper with his finger. He tilts his head, holds the book up, lies on his back and rotates the book, all the while with a very determined expression on his face. The more he focuses, the redder his cheeks get and the deeper he frowns until, eventually, he gives a very frustrated sigh, sits up and takes off his headphones.
“Excuse me,” Megumi says with stark confidence. He clambers to his feet and walks over to the older boys. He holds the book up and pushes it into Suguru’s face. “What does this say?”
Suguru cranes his neck forward to look at the script better. “Iegumo. It’s a small spider that lives in houses.”
“ Iegumo ,” Megumi repeats and nods thoughtfully.
“I’m proud of you for saying that without flinching, Suguru,” Satoru smirks and reaches around to pat Suguru on the cheek. “Suguru is scared of spiders,” Satoru explains as he sits up and faces Megumi.
“I’m not scared of them spiders; you’re scared of spiders,” Suguru protests and nudges Satoru.
“No, I dislike other bugs, but you are scared of spiders.” Satoru leans forward and whispers, “he thinks they’re going to crawl in his ears.”
Megumi looks from one to the other with a frown and holds the book close to his chest. “Oh,” he says as he drops to the floor. He lays the book out between his knees and points to a diagram of the house spider. “Well, you have an Iegumo hiding in here. I saw three, but it might have been the same one.”
Suguru pulls a look of slight disgust and looks to Satoru. “You’re killing them.”
“Yes, yes, I know,” Satoru laughs and affectionately scratches Suguru’s knee.
“Don’t kill them!” Megumi exclaims indignantly. “They’re only small and little and tiny.” The small boy has a distinct firmness to his tone and looks at both older boys with a level of disappointment that rivals even Yaga.
Satoru tries very hard not to giggle at Megumi’s assertiveness. “Well, there you go, Suguru. They’re small and little and tiny. Everyone knows you can’t kill things that are small and little and tiny.”
“You shouldn’t kill any animals,” Megumi’s frown deepens.
“No, of course not; you’re so right,” Suguru squeezes Megumi’s toes through his sock and smiles apologetically. “We’ll put them in a cup and take them outside.”
Megumi draws his foot away from Suguru and huffs. “You said they live in houses. This is their home.”
Satoru watches as Suguru blinks and looks to him for help out of the hole he’s digging. There’s not a lot Satoru can really offer. Megumi has shown himself to be direct and strong-willed, and there isn’t much point arguing with a child when he’s making some pretty good points.
“You shouldn’t get rid of things just because you don’t like them,” Megumi says firmly and moves back to where the Discman is lying. He slides the headphones on, and they push his hair up so that it splays into a fan of chaotic points, much like Satoru’s.
Suguru and Satoru exchange a look of awkwardness with one another.
“I think I hit a nerve,” Suguru exhales considerably and slouches against Satoru’s side. He wraps his wrist under the other boy’s arm and hunts for fingers to lock between his own.
Satoru hums and takes Suguru’s hand, circling their thumbs around one another. “His mother died, his stepmother vanished, and I killed his father. He is small, and everyone who is supposed to want him has gone. I think he probably feels like a house spider.”
They watch Megumi gently wiggling to the music he is listening to and turning through the pages of the book with a concentrated look on his face. He is still young, but he already somewhat resembles his father, with bright green eyes and a pointed nose.
“So, he has no one?” Suguru murmurs.
“Except for his sister,” Satoru squeezes Suguru’s hand and kisses his forehead tenderly. “And the Zen’in clan. But I don’t think he’s very interested in them.”
He pauses to think for a while, deciding the appropriate way to proceed with what he’s about to say. There’s no doubt in his mind that Suguru wouldn’t want to provide shelter and safety to a young sorcerer. Still, it feels unfair to withdraw the opportunity for Suguru to decline any involvement in Megumi’s protection and teaching. But Suguru is watching Megumi with soft, caring eyes and a sad smile that says, ‘Thank fuck we found him’ and Satoru thinks there is never going to be a better time .
“He also has me,” Satoru says finally.
Suguru sits up straight. “Satoru?” He knows there’s more to this than mere moral support.
“I made some arrangements with Zen’in Naobito.”
“What does that mean?” Suguru’s brows raise to his hairline.
“It means I’m protecting him. He decides what claim he takes to his family; as long as I’m around, he doesn’t even have to consider the name ‘ Zen’in’ .” Satoru reaches out and twists a long strand of Suguru’s thick hair around his finger. It spirals quickly out of the coil once released, and Satoru gently tucks it behind Suguru’s ear.
“Satoru,” Suguru laughs, following Satoru’s hand with his touch. “Did you accidentally adopt a child?”
Satoru waves dismissively. “No!”
“Hmmm, it really sounds like you might have accidentally adopted a child,” Suguru teases, leaning in with a mischievous grin.
“That’s not what I’m saying!” Satoru pinches Suguru’s side and gets his wrist grabbed in Suguru’s vice-like grip.
“Shame,” Suguru says sincerely. He brushes his nose against Satoru’s and flutters his lashes. “You’re annoying and bad at jokes; you’re predisposed to make a great dad.”
Satoru nuzzles the slope of Suguru’s nose. “Yeah? Is that something you see for us?” Satoru says cooly, although he is a little anxious about the answer.
This is a question he has considered and reconsidered several times but never brought it up to Suguru. When it comes to the prospect of children, Satoru has typically seen himself as growing up to be more of an annoying uncle. There isn’t much desire to have his own children, but he’s still young, and that does not mean Satoru is against being a mentor or role model. Someone has to teach the kids how to live exciting lives, after all.
However, the introduction of Megumi causes him to reevaluate what kind of role model he wants to be. It’s not his intention to replace Megumi’s father, and he certainly isn’t going into this with the intention of being a parental figure at his age. Nevertheless, he thinks Megumi needs more than just a teacher. He needs a family. A family that isn’t the Zen’in clan.
Satoru doesn’t know how to provide that. In a perfect world, Suguru would be able to help him work it out. Normally, Satoru would find it easier to ask him, but lately, Suguru has seemed distant and troubled.
In between the chaos, there have been moments where Satoru can see Suguru clear as day. Here is the tall, raven-haired boy whose delicate pink lips curl at the corners when he purrs Satoru’s name. The boy whose fingers weave through Satoru’s hair and place sleepy kisses along his jaw.
But the rest of the time, there is a shroud over Suguru. It is dark and unsettling. It scares Satoru. And if he were a more doubtful person, he would start to wonder if his one and only saw any future with him at all.
Suguru hesitates to reply like he’s trying to work out if there’s a correct answer. In the end, he smiles and says, “I don’t know, but maybe in 20 years or so. However, seeing as you’ve already accidentally adopted a child–”
“Fuck off,” Satoru says, tongue in cheek. His fingers comb into Suguru’s hair, cradling him at the nape, and he draws their mouths closer until the warmth of Suguru’s breath tickles his lips.
“Make me,” Suguru whispers and closes the gap. His velvet lips tenderly press into Satoru’s with a deep adoration that Satoru reciprocates with ease. Slowly, his hand drifts to Satoru’s neck, where his touch extends to Satoru’s jaw.
Satoru melts at the touch and allows his lips to part ever so slightly so that Suguru can faintly pass his tongue between them. Warmth fills his chest, and his pulse dances until the moment that Suguru pulls back and hums contently.
“I love you,” Satoru whispers breathlessly.
“I love you t–”
“Excuse me,” Megumi’s voice interrupts them abruptly and propels them away from each other, as if kissing was a scandalous and terrible thing for a child to catch them doing.
“Yes, Megumi?” Satoru says, clearing his throat and wiping his mouth on the heel of his palm.
Megumi is hunched in on himself with his arms around his waist, looking a little uncomfortable. “I’m hungry.”
“Can’t believe you’ve let our son starve; we’ve only had him a day,” Suguru jokes under his breath.
Satoru elbows Suguru in the side and hisses for him to shut up.
“Do you like tonkatsu?” Suguru asks, and Megumi seems enthusiastically pleased with the suggestion. Then, he pulls out his phone and begins typing out a message to Nanami.
“You’re brave,” Satoru snorts. They’ve both been told by Nanami to stop “panhandling for food,” so Satoru knows that this plan has a strong likelihood of ending in them ordering take-away from the place down the street they’re in a feud with.
“You think I don’t know how to work Kento?” Suguru throws Satoru a smirk and nudges him with his toe.
Satoru smirks back and gives him a nod to continue. He looks at the boy on the floor, who is watching them expectantly. “Hey Megumi, how good are you at looking undeniably, heartbreakingly adorable?”
Megumi tucks in his top lip, opens his eyes wide, and angles his face slightly down. He doesn’t appear to understand why this is a skill he needs to possess, but he seems to know exactly how to engage it.
“Oh, he’s a natural,” Satoru whistles.
“Takes after you. Truly his father’s son,” Suguru giggles and kisses Satoru’s temple.
Satoru narrows his eyes and shakes his head. “You’re a menace today.”
Much to their surprise, Nanami takes very little convincing, which they credit Megumi for because as soon as they mention the hungry child, he agrees to cook. However, Nanami initially only agrees to cook for Megumi, much to Satoru and Suguru’s chagrin and even begins preparing only enough food for two people.
“Do you have enough ingredients for everyone?” Megumi asks, folding his arms over his chest and making his better-than-Yaga’s disappointed face.
Nanami eyes Suguru and Satoru suspiciously as though he thinks they have primed Megumi to use his small stature and missing baby tooth for evil. Then, he grumbles something under his breath and clears the rest of the pork out of the fridge, adding, “Before any of you ask, yes, there will be enough for Ieiri.”
Satoru blows Nanami a kiss, which Nanami ducks out of the way of as he uses one hand to shield Megumi’s view of the rude gesture he’s making with the other. Satoru pretends to be deeply offended.
After a little deliberation, they decide on katsudon as their meal. Nanami holds Megumi up because he gets to crack the eggs to coat the pork in panko. Megumi is very careful when he taps the shell and intensely inspects the bowl for any pieces of shell that might have fallen in. He tells Nanami that Tsumiki likes omurice, so he has been practising how to crack eggs perfectly because he doesn’t want her to have crunchy shells in her omelettes.
Nanami comments that Megumi is very young to be having to cook for people but tells him that he is very kind for doing so. Megumi says that he doesn’t have to cook, but he wants to cook. Nanami says that is even kinder.
Shoko arrives and takes Megumi to clean his hands and face before they eat. The two older boys help Nanami by cleaning up everything he uses so he has plenty of space on the counters. This does end in a slight bubble fight, a wet floor, and Nanami pinching the bridge of his nose in stress as a rather soggy Suguru walks around half naked, trying to ring out some of the water weighing down his shirt until he caves and fetches a new one. Nevertheless, very soon, the kitchen begins to fill with mouthwatering smells of fried pork and onion.
When the food is ready, the three boys bring through the meal and set it on the table, where Megumi and Shoko patiently wait.
Satoru notices that Nanami seems tense and turns his head slightly away from Megumi when he sits down. The seat has been empty since Haibara died, and Nanami seems as if he doesn’t want to see the seat filled by someone else.
Megumi claps his hands together and very sweetly says, “Itadakimasu!”
Nanami softens.
“It’s nice to have you join us, Megumi,” Shoko grins at him. “Have you had a good time here today?”
Megumi looks up at her with round cheeks stuffed with food and nods. He seems satisfied with his response and continues eating quietly. Anyone would think he had never been fed the way he dives in, and with every bite, his face lights up at each new flavour and texture.
“Megumi’s been busy helping me bake today, right, Megumi?” Suguru says, giving Megumi an encouraging smile. “And we found a really interesting book about bugs.”
Megumi nods and continues with his food.
“Wow, you weren’t joking,” Satoru whispers to Suguru. “This kid doesn’t talk.”
“Not about himself, no,” Suguru replies quietly.
Satoru returns to his meal. He watches Megumi enjoying his food and nodding agreeably at Nanami to communicate that he is thoroughly pleased. Satoru notes that Megumi has a distinct seriousness about him that is slightly unnerving for a child his age. The boy regards the others with an air of inquisition; his expression seems somewhat stern and in a state of constant observation. One could argue that it’s nervousness from not knowing these people, but Satoru is smart enough to see that Megumi’s not afraid of strangers. This behaviour is reflective of his experiences and understanding of his place in people’s lives. Hopefully, with Satoru’s guidance and some good friends, Megumi will grow out of his seclusion.
Megumi’s gaze wanders up the wall, and he stops chewing for a moment. “Iegumo!” he exclaims, pointing to the corner.
All eyes follow the direction of Megumi’s finger to a spot on the wall where a spider skitters toward the ceiling.
“Gojo, get rid of it, please,” Nanami grimaces, following the path of the spider very closely.
“Can’t,” Satoru shrugs.
Nanami sighs frustratedly, “Why?”
“Because spiders are small and little and tiny,” Satoru replies matter-of-factly.
“What?” Shoko laughs and nearly chokes on her water.
“Megumi says we mustn’t get rid of things just because we don’t like them,” Suguru explains with a confident tone designed to show Megumi that his requests are respected, valued and fought for.
“He’s a spiders rights activist,” Satoru says with feigned pride (although he genuinely finds Megumi’s willingness to stand up for what he wants admirable).
“Do you like spiders, Megumi?” Shoko asks.
Megumi shakes his head.
“Then why can’t we get rid of it?” Nanami’s eyes are still glued to the arachnid, which is now moving east along the wall.
“Because it’s small and little and tiny!” Suguru and Satoru declare in unison.
“Tsumiki doesn’t like it when I hurt things,” Megumi says suddenly.
The room goes quiet. Satoru gives the others a look to make them hold their words and give Megumi the space to speak. They all sit looking at Megumi expectantly.
“You mustn’t hurt animals,” Megumi says firmly but slightly quieter. “A spider bit Tsumiki and made her cry, so I squashed it. That made Tsumiki cry more.” Megumi bows his head like a dog with its tail between his legs. “We shouldn’t hurt anything, even if I want to, because that is not good.”
Oh. Satoru gets it now. Tsumiki is Megumi’s definition of good. She is the person he values above all others, and he wants to make her happy. He’s still very young and forming his own morals, so he has tried to uphold hers. It must be a struggle for him to have urges to go against what Tsumiki says is right.
“Tsumiki?” Shoko whispers to Suguru.
“His sister,” Suguru replies.
Satoru shakes his head and corrects, “Step-sister.”
“Sister,” Megumi retorts. His eyes are wandering around the room, looking at seemingly nothing in the odd way that small children do.
Megmi rolls his head back and looks at the ceiling, unblinking; then his eyes fall to Shoko. “Are you a sorcerer like him?” Megumi points to Satoru.
Shoko grins and nods. “Yes, I am. But we can do different things.”
“What things can you do?”
Shoko thinks for a minute, trying to find a way to explain Reverse Cursed to someone so young. It’s hard enough explaining it to adults. She settles on, “I can use a special technique that lets me make people better.”
“You’re a doctor?” Megumi tilts his head curiously.
Shoko shrugs awkwardly, “Maybe one day.”
“I think Tsumiki would like that technique because she doesn’t like things to be hurt, but she isn’t a sorcerer,” Megumi sighs as if the idea annoys him.
Lifting her gaze, Shoko raises a brow at Satoru. “So he’s…?”
Satoru nods. “Ten Shadows, it seems. Inherited from a bonafide Zen’in. Megumi is going to be a very strong sorcerer one day.” Satoru ruffles Megumi’s hair and makes it even wilder than it already was.
Nanami makes a disgruntled noise. “Indoctrinating them young,” he says bitterly, although no one can blame him. “How old is he? Surely you can’t be suggesting he come here when he doesn’t know what that means.”
“He’ll get a normal education first. But it was either this or go to the Zen’in clan, Kento,” Satoru shrugs. “I asked him if that’s what he wanted, and he said he’d rather come here.”
“That seems like choosing a hell to live in,” Nanami’s brow knots into a tight frown. His distaste toward the world of jujutsu has increased significantly since Haibara’s death. Not that Kento was ever the poster boy for optimism and enthusiasm; nowadays, he’s just more directly disdainful.
Suguru reaches over to Megumi and pets his hair gently in an attempt to tidy the mess it’s become. Thankfully, Suguru also identifies that Megumi is very intuitive to what is happening around him and seeks to distract him from the conversation by helping him pick up some of the trickier parts of his food.
“Why do you want to be a sorcerer, Megumi?” Nanami asks.
Megumi looks at Nanami with a plain, unreadable expression and simply says, “Because I want Tsumiki to be happy.”
A striking look of sadness eclipses Nanami’s face. It is rare to meet a child with such a sureness to his voice. Even rarer for that sureness to be directed toward acts of selflessness and care for others. And that voice is somehow coming from a descendant of the Zen’in clan whose infamous pride and elitism Nanami finds detestably vain.
Satoru knows that it only troubles Nanami further to know the kind of future Megumi will likely face.
Nanami says very little for the rest of the meal after that. For the next 20 minutes, they struggle to make conversation except for Satoru’s occasional attempts to lighten the mood, which only Shoko seems receptive to right now. Even Suguru has begun to pull back again.
When they’ve cleared the table and gone to relax in the rec room, Megumi finds a new book to read, puts his headphones back on and sits by himself, facing a wall, with his face buried in the pages.
Shoko and Nanami are playing some sort of card game that neither of them is able to win, which involves drinking from a bottle of stolen sake every time a 9 is drawn. They ignore Suguru’s insistence that they not promote underage drinking in front of the child. Nanami points out that Megumi seems totally unaware of anyone else right now.
A comfortable spot on the floor lends itself to Satoru as he sinks down beside Suguru and relaxes into him. With Suguru’s arm draped over his shoulder, Satoru’s face nestles into the warmth of Suguru’s neck and his arms wind around Suguru’s waist. Satoru can feel the odd slipping feeling of his mind trying to fall asleep again, and he wonders when he will stop feeling so tired.
“Do you want to go to bed?” Suguru says distantly, pressing a crown of kisses into Satoru’s hair.
Satoru shakes his head, nuzzling into Suguru’s neck further. “Just wanna be here,” he murmurs sleepily and squeezes Suguru.
Oddly, Suguru does not squeeze back.
Satoru squeezes him again and still does not receive a reciprocal squeeze. Listening to Suguru’s pulse, he notices it feels darker and vibrates deep in his chest. He cranes his neck to look for Suguru’s face, but the dark shroud appears to be descending again. Satoru gives Suguru a little shake to break his vacant stare. “Suguru?”
Nothing.
“Suguru?”
Suguru leans and presses another kiss onto Satoru’s head, but it’s an automatic action. It’s instinctual rather than intentional.
Satoru sits up, and Suguru’s arm slips off of his shoulders limply. An uneasy ache clenches in Satoru’s stomach as he realises he cannot see his Suguru.
This Suguru’s eyes are shadowy. His brow is lower, and his lips are in a tight, thin line. There is no sense of his usual self, and he is lost in his mind somewhere, watching Megumi.
“Suguru?” Satoru tries again, combing his fingers over Suguru’s cheek and cupping his face. “What’s going on up there?” he says, tapping his finger on Suguru’s temple.
The shroud begins to lift, and someone similar to Suguru sits closer behind his eyes. But Satoru cannot see Suguru with clarity – at least not his Suguru. And once again, all Suguru does is offer a small kiss.
“You wanna tell me what your thinking?” Satoru begins to lower his blindfold a little. The creases of a frown pinch his brow.
Suguru catches his hand to stop him and breathes a heavy sigh. “Nothing,” he whispers unconvincingly and wraps Satoru into his arms again, squeezing him tight this time.
Satoru notices that the embrace feels colder than usual, and he feels himself wanting to pull away from it as if someone unfamiliar is holding him. The longer Suguru holds him, the more he feels like something is very wrong. It’s an icy feeling that spreads through his torso and makes his ribs ache when he tries to breathe. He tries to reach his Suguru, but he cannot find him.
But Satoru – a serial optimist – is determined to believe that if something were truly wrong, Suguru would tell him. Either that or he is foolish and afraid. No strength of Six Eyes can penetrate the blindness that his love for Suguru has caused.
“He has one of the most important names in sorcery; why do you think he chooses to use a non-sorcerer name?” Suguru says quietly, eyes fixed on Megumi.
“Because it’s the only name he knows, of course,” Satoru shrugs.
“True, I suppose,” Suguru deliberates. “But he’s resistant to ‘Zen’in’, not just dismissive.”
“Well, Tsumiki uses ‘Fushiguro’, and she’s his only family–”
Suguru shakes his head, “Technically, the Zen’in clan are his family.”
“On his father’s side, yeah. From what I’ve heard, he isn’t really a big fan of that guy – not that he really remembers him,” Satoru snorts. “What are you getting at?”
“Nothing,” Suguru exhales, sounding uncertain. “But it’s ironic that he won’t consider himself a Zen’in despite looking so distinctly like one of them.”
“Well, he looks like the Zen’in who refused to call himself one. I think that makes some sense,” Satoru tries to move a little closer to Suguru, but he still feels like he’s sitting with someone else. This is organic matter shaped to look like Suguru and talk like Suguru, but he suspects it does not think like Suguru. And when Satoru says his name, it tastes different on his tongue. Suguru.
But this is Suguru. His soul tells him so. It’s just not his Suguru. He knows his Suguru is still in there if only he can find a way to reach into the darkness when the shroud comes down.
“Does it upset you?” Satoru asks, swallowing his unease. “That he looks like his father?”
Suguru chuckles and returns into his body in a blink. He slips his hand into Satoru’s palm and caresses his thumb as if he has been himself this whole time. “No,” he nuzzles Satoru’s jaw, “I don’t think he looks like you at all, Satoru.”
“Very funny, Suguru,” Satoru tuts. He tries to laugh, but he still feels strange. The feel of Suguru’s hand is waxy and surreal at first until it warms into Satoru’s palm. His name still tastes wrong.
It isn’t until Suguru looks at him properly and cradles his chin that Satoru is certain that this is his Suguru. The way he leans in to kiss Satoru with such tenderness, testing at his closed lips with the stroke of his tongue, is completely Suguru. The way he breathes little happy hums into Satoru’s mouth – that’s Suguru. His hand on Satoru's nape, the grazing of his teeth against Satoru’s lip, the quiet giggle when Satoru pulls his collar to bring his mouth just a little closer – it’s all his Suguru.
“Get a room, you two!” Shoko calls out from across the room.
“Setting a terrible example,” Nanami tuts, although ironically, his words are a little slurred from drinking.
“He’s not paying attention,” Suguru pulls away long enough to reply, then collides his mouth against Satoru’s again.
“I meant for me, Geto-senpai,” Nanami jokes.
When Suguru pulls back, Satoru lowers his blindfold enough to look him in the eye and see clear as day that Suguru’s cheeks are flushed pink, and his eyes are glittering. He peppers kisses over Satoru’s nose, and Satoru doesn’t have to search for his one and only. He’s right here.
The clouds have passed for now, and, despite the odd feeling in his gut, Satoru is able to rest back against Suguru’s shoulder. He allows Suguru to tug his blindfold back over his eyes and absorbs himself in the ambience of Shoko and Nanami’s chatter and the rise and fall of Suguru’s breathing. It’s exactly the peace he needs.
Fifteen minutes pass of this uninterrupted stillness before suddenly, Megumi takes off his headphones, picks up his book and drags his feet across the room. Without a word, he drops the book in Satoru’s lap and falls down beside him. Dazed, heavy-lidded green eyes peer up and give Satoru his instructions without a word.
“ Big Book of the Deep Blue: A Children’s Guide to Oceanic Ecosystems,” Satoru reads from the cover and chuckles. “Wow, this kid knows how to party!” he says sarcastically. He thumbs through the pages to see an assortment of sea creatures and accompanying text until he lands on a page with a shark. “ The Black Tip Reef Shark. These Indo-pacific reef lovers are identifiable by the distinct black markings at the tips of their fins…”
Megumi leans in close to look at the pictures as he listens, resting his head against Satoru’s arm or propping himself on his elbow on Satoru’s thigh. The whole time he does not speak and rarely even makes a sound. He does not complain when Satoru finds a way to do voices for all of the fish and makes a noise that might be a laugh when Satoru makes a joke about anemones.
But Satoru does not make the voices and jokes to get a response from Megumi. In fact, he almost acts as though Megumi isn’t even there so that the boy can preserve the sense of solitude he appears to find so comfortable.
When Megumi pushes Satoru’s hand out of the way so he can see better, Satoru does not comment; he simply allows Megumi to manipulate his arm into a better position. When Megumi still can’t see and ducks under his arm, Satoru continues reading while Megumi finds a comfortable way to lean. And when Megumi cannot find a comfortable place and silently climbs onto Satoru’s lap, Satoru doesn’t make any attempt to move him or hold him; he just lets him settle.
He doesn’t make a remark when Megumi starts to sway, barely able to keep his exhausted body upright. Nor does he make a fuss when Megumi curls closer to his chest. Instead, Megumi finds a place in their space where he feels safe, and nobody disturbs him while he does so.
And then, just as they reach a page on ocean mammals, Megumi’s head drops against Satoru’s body. He is asleep.
Suguru slips the book out of Satoru’s hands and places it on the ground. He silently stands and fetches a blanket to place over them and presses a kiss to Satoru’s forehead.
“Looks like you’re sleeping alone tonight,” Satoru whispers to Suguru with a small laugh. Hesitantly, he puts his arms carefully around Megumi and holds him to his chest while Suguru settles beside him and rests upon his shoulder.
Megumi stirs and snuggles into Satoru’s chest tighter. His breaths are delicate and barely audible, but his heartbeat transfers to Satoru’s chest as though it is his own. All of his seclusion has melted away, and without his consciousness guarding him, there is a connection between them.
The connection forms in Satoru’s mind and heart all at once as though he has realised the answer to a question he didn’t even consider asking.
Satoru knows he will never be Megumi’s father, but from this moment forward, Megumi will always be Satoru’s son.
“We’re going to call it a night. Do you want me to take him to bed?” Shoko whispers as she tucks the stack of cards into their box.
Satoru shakes his head, resting his cheek against Megumi’s crown.
Shoko makes adoring eyes at the sight of them. “Okay, I hope he sleeps well. Can I get either of you anything?”
“I’m alright, thanks,” Suguru replies.
“What about you, Satoru?”
“...Satoru?”
“...Satoru?”
Satoru blinks up at Shoko.
The room feels so cold, as though it’s the dead of winter. Icy air nips at his skin and makes his bones ache. The lights are not glowing a warm orange, and the only heartbeat he feels is his own. Shoko’s long, dark hair cascades down her shoulders and drapes over the lapels of her coat. Dark circles hang under her tired eyes, and her jaw seems like it has been clenched for a decade at least.
Satoru looks for Nanami and sees no one.
He looks for Suguru – his Suguru – but the spot beside him is empty.
Holding his breath, he looks into his lap.
There is a dogeared, tattered book whose corners are folded and torn from years of reading and rereading. The half-peeled-away cover has worn-off lettering that reads Big Book of the Deep Blue: A Children’s Guide to Oceanic Ecosystems.
Satoru lets go of his breath.
“Satoru?” Shoko says again. She approaches him slowly. The click of her shoes is more and more agonising with every step. They fall to a stop at Satoru’s side, and she crouches beside him, uncurling her fingers to place them on his wrist gently.
Satoru’s glassy eyes, unshielded by shades or a blindfold, lift to meet her.
“We have to go now,” Shoko utters, barely above a whisper. “Sukuna and Kenjaku will be waiting.”