A Story - greenpeaco*cks - 呪術廻戦 (2024)

Megumi opened his eyes and looked around. He was sitting, at what he presumes to be, a dining table.

He stretches out his fingers and stares at them. He must’ve nodded off.

A clink in the kitchen disrupts his line of thought – Toji right in front of the fridge; the air glides over his face. The man skirts his eyes from the asparagus to the milk; the sacred milk as he’d frequently mention. Megumi would give him hell if he decided to drink it yet the excuse was how strong the urge was.

Grabbing the milk from its stand, he twists it open and raises a brow of satisfaction – testing boundaries was his forte, especially this particular one.

In cue, Megumi turned his head to face him from the dining table. “What the hell is it with you and the milk?”

Toji puckers his lips, holding the milk in his hand, the cap on the other. “I wouldn’t figure you’d know.”

“Let it go, Megumi,” said Tsumiki. “You need to be patient until she comes.” Her eyes were glued to her phone, where she sat on the other side, facing Megumi. She lifts her head to make eye contact but resumes when she hears a ping.

“Never thought you were one to defend Toji…” mumbled Megumi.

They all knew who Tsumiki was referring to, the person to whom the ‘sacred milk’ belonged to; Itami Fushiguro.

Megumi respected her too much for him to be on standby while Toji fulfilled his aching, unstoppable desires. What his mother saw that man puzzled him. Love required boundaries, his mother let too many things pass her – he was the epitome of a walking red flag.

His forehead veins became quite apparent when Toji raised the carton to spite him even further, trying to push him off edge.

“Are you being dense on purpose?” snapped Megumi, toward his sister.

Tsumiki shut her phone, set it down, and glared at him. “You’re directing your anger at the wrong person.”

Toji clicked his tongue and he stepped between them. “Good Grief…” he exhaled. “That’s enough, Itami is on her way. Can’t you both behave?”

Megumi grows tense. Toji was a father only when he wanted to be one, yet this time, he couldn’t talk back – Toji was also right. It was her birthday. They had to suck it up for a while and pretend to be buddy-buddies with each other; not so simple to do.

Megumi settles and his sister crosses her arms, leaning back into the chair.

Toji nodded. This will do.

He walked around to begin decorating the dining table to look more ‘acceptable’ for a birthday; he brought the beers, set down the plates, with cutlery of beautiful designs – designs he’d picked out carefully himself with Tsumiki – the handmade forks, in which he was scammed of not only the price but quality. It was, overall, a decent birthday setup.

Tsumiki did her usual rounds of checking on the cake every minute and seeing to it that Toji doesn’t fumble the decorations. She was preoccupied with whether she’d overdone the cake or if it’ll come out just right; juggling two things at once.

Everything was far from settled, if their mother was meant to be here before their wicked surprise, how will anything be done? Megumi refused to tape the balloons – rather he wouldn’t get up at all. Toji would urge him, hasten him by mentioning the time every couple of seconds or so.

Toji checked his watch. “Oh, it’s a bit over six – she should be here any minute, wouldn’t she, Megumi?”

“What do you want me to do about it?” spat Megumi.

“Tape the balloons,” he replied.

“You’re holding onto the tape,” Megumi said, mockingly, “can’t you do it yourself?”

Toji must’ve messed up somewhere along the way raising Megumi – how he raised him to be like that, he wasn’t sure.

The clock was ticking, and soon, it was time. Toji sat beside Tsumiki, knowing Megumi wouldn’t allow him any inch closer, and began to count the seconds.

The dining table fit for a family of four, the chair beside Megumi empty. Inside the living room beside the kitchen, their front door was right behind him, through a long hallway. If she were to enter, the first thing she would see is them in their places, waiting.

Toji sighed, he grew bored staring at the clock and the sound of the fork screeching against plate tuned through Megumi’s ears, gritting his teeth. His patience wasn’t limitless, far from it. He was growing weary and the room filled with the aroma of the cake only suffocated him further.

The turn of the knob turned all their attention to the door, all watching as the woman of Toji’s affections sighed within her phone; “As I said, that won’t be possible,” she muttered, irked by the boisterous man that could be heard from the phones speakers, although faint. The woman got impatient, crushing the phone in her hands as she raised her voice, “I said that wouldn’t be possible!” She was fuming, scratching her short strands of brown hair behind her neck. It looked like smoke would come out of her ears at any moment.

Anger was her forte, especially when things weren’t going her way. Still, Toji stared at her like a dog in heat, his tail wagging and ears perked.

Filthy. Megumi wished he didn’t have eyes.

Itami's eyes shift from her phone to the living room and her eyes widen, reverently staring at the decorations that were placed for her; it was her birthday and she forgot. From where she stood, Megumi watched the impression she held closely; taking it all in.

Toji was doing something right. From fiery anger to a taken aback softness; of course she wouldn’t smile, she was too prideful. A hereditary quality.

She coughed into her cracked phone, and abruptly ended the call; her steps sounded quiet as she reached the living room. “Happy birthday,” both Toji and Tsumiki said in unison.

Megumi huffed, a nod was all he could muster. Even then, with her boastful disposition, she seemed thankful.

“You’re the last people I would expect to remember,” she said, crossing one of her arms, hiding her face with her hair pathetically.

“I wonder who’d set all this up,” said Toji, then shrugging and raising his arms. “Couldn’t possibly be me.”

“Not at all!” she cried. “I don’t believe this, how could you have set this up? It’s so unlike you,” she said breathlessly, in her kindest way possible. Yet her kindest was most aggressive to Toji, who feigned being stabbed in the heart. “I’m sure this is all a dream and that I’m going to wake up soon.”

“I’m sure of it too,” Megumi concurs.

“Do you seriously think that horribly of us?” said Tsumiki. “I’m not so bad – not sure if I could say the same about Toji.”

“How harsh,” he said and mumbled, “I still raised you better than that old woman.”

“I heard that!” Tsumiki banged her phone on the table, Toji smirked.

They began bickering whilst Itami stood in her place, incredulous. It ended up not as special as she’d hoped, Megumi could see the fumes in her ears.

He covered his ears with his fingers, as a safety precaution, and he was to be right; yelling pursued soon after, the cadence of a shriek of a woman at her wits’ end. He could make out certain phrases he hoped he could use against Toji such as; ‘You guys never care about my wellbeing,’ and, ‘... never wondering what I could be going through, you selfish pricks!’ he would store that last one for as long as he could.

Then the loud bang of a door being shut flew Toji’s hair from its place, turning it into a dishevelled mess: the power of their angry mother was unmatched by any strong person containing cursed energy – perhaps even a match for Gojo Satoru. She yelled more than anyone, more than Tsumiki when she saw co*ckroaches. She was terrifying.

Toji cleared his throat. “Look at what you’ve done, Tsumiki.”

“Take a look at yourself for once!” she said.

They aren’t ever able to take anything seriously. Megumi did not know how he handled them up to this point – he wished he stayed at those dorms in Jujutsu High instead.

The smell of something burnt filled up the room and Tsumiki was reminded of what she’d left in the oven – the mess, in Megumi’s mind, resembled a sitcom. She hurried to the oven, pulling its door handle to find a black, overbaked cake staring right back at her. Tears well up her eyes and she shrieks loud enough to be heard by the neighbours. Toji was horrible at containing his laughter, the best he could do was to hide his face and huff and quiver in his place. Megumi wasn’t sure but he knew Toji had something to do with this – that face is the face of a guilty man, no matter how innocent he may act, Megumi wished he couldn’t see right through him but every thought reached him; it infuriated him. He stayed silent, per usual, choosing to read the cooking-book he’d found to pass the time. Tsumiki was certainly affected by Toji’s personality as she is the spitting image of him.

She stomps in the living room, holding the cake pan with her gloves, she drops it on the table, furious. Tsumiki knew just as well as Megumi who was to blame for this mess, he could see it in the way she sneered at Toji, asking for an explanation without uttering a word, pointing at the burnt cake. That’s when the man fell into a fit.

“I think I had set up the oven at a higher temperature,” he admits brusquely.

“At a higher temperature?!” Tsumiki throws her gloves on the ground. “Really, is that all you have to say? What about mom’s cake? Are you saying we should celebrate her birthday without cake? Megumi, say something!”

He would say nothing.

“Megumi!”

He wouldn’t respond.

“You are both unbearable!” she snapped. “I’ll go get mom and we’ll celebrate her birthday without you two.”

Toji stops her in place. “No need – I had already ordered your mother’s cake. It should be in the fridge.” He stares at Tsumiki, expecting her to go grab it. “I paid a lot for it.”

“Of course we know,” said Tsumiki. “With mom’s money right?”

“How else am I supposed to pay then?” he refutes.

Megumi left them to their own devices. His mother left befuddled and disheartened – her special day should feel special too.

He found her hiding in her and Toji’s dark room. Light spluttering in from the living room, faintly showing his distraught mother; seeing her shadow curled up on the bed saddened Megumi, he wouldn’t ever admit it but he felt his heart being stabbed. She felt out of his reach – he wasn’t the best son, he couldn’t care for people the way they wanted – nevertheless, he wanted to try to relieve some of her pain.

“Megumi?” she sniffles, clearing her throat. “Are you alright?”

He blinks twice. That odd feeling reels within his nerves but then dissipates. He looked at the floor to ground himself and said; “Yes,” he continued, “I just forgot to wish you a happy birthday.”

Itami chuckled, the melody resounding softly. “I wasn’t expecting it from you anyway,” she said. “It still sounds better from you than the both of them.”

Megumi smiled. “Are you coming back?”

Itami rubbed her cheeks, stretching her arms afterwards. “Just give me a moment.”

Itami, though she was shaking, stood and she smiled sadly at Megumi; he wanted to comfort her. The feeling came back pulsing between his head, he felt chills go up his spine. The urge to hug her became a need, he felt this was the last time he’d see her; yet no matter how much he tried to move, he wouldn’t budge. He stood there, agape.

Could it be that he was dreaming? The thought crossed his mind but left as quickly as it had come, leaving him feeling dazed. He tried to remember, but he’s forgotten it already; what was it that he was trying to remember anyway? He held the door handle even harder, his muscles were tense but his grip felt weak.

“Let's see what those pricks have gotten up to after this disaster,” she said. He was thrown back to reality. “Surely it can’t be much, huh? Those pricks.”

Itami slides her hand around Megumi’s arm, pushing him with her to the living room.

Soon they were met with apologetic faces, holding an extravagant cake – a strawberry cake with red filling, in commendation of her fury. Toji grinned at his wife specifically, as the asshole he knew he was. Tsumiki recorded beside him. Itami's surprised and pleasant laughter vanquished everything, quick to dissipate her sadness, much unlike Megumi.

Tsumiki motions to Megumi the table – he stared at it then back at her. What was she doing?

She furrowed her brows and motions it to him again. He looks back at the table but this time finds the party poppers. It was right in front of the table that would make it hard to miss. Guess they truly were sorry – for them to go to this extent, they’d have to kill a person first.

He twisted the lid around, attempting to figure out how it worked. He bit his lip, on the verge of throwing the thing away and as he twisted the party poppers again – freezing as a loud pop, and Itami’s shriek, resounded and confetti showers everything. Toji moved to cover the cake using his nonsensical speed.

He tossed the party popper, hoping he wouldn’t have to use it again.

“Oh! You scared me, Megumi.” Itami cackled, waving her hand to call him closer. “You could have warned us.”

“Surprise,” he said, attempting to muster enthusiasm but sounded disconcerted.

Toji ushers his wife to the dining table, pushing in the seat for her.

Soon they were sitting, staring at one another; it was like a joyous day during Christmas, without the tree and the celebration itself.

Tsumiki was the one to slice up the cake into four different pieces, the biggest one being for their mother. She clapped in excitement, eyeing the cake and the beer Toji poured for her; it was her merry evening.

Megumi watched on the scene, their laughter, the phone Tsumiki was recording on, most likely being horribly recorded, then Toji: Why did he seem so unfamiliar? His mother looked young, her face wrinkle-free, and youthful. Over the years, she’s barely changed. Tsumiki was different too, he’d known she’d always been a harsh teacher yet never like this; in fact, it was never like this. He found himself smiling as well, embarrassingly so.

Toji waved his hand in front of Megumi. “Earth to Megumi,” he said. “Anything interesting happening in there?” He pointed to his head.

“It doesn’t concern you,” he said indignantly.

Toji felt that Megumi would tear a hole through him the deeper he stared and he avoided eye contact at the cost of his pride.

But something in Megumi clicked – he remembered now. How could he forget?

A bitter feeling spread throughout him. He bit his tongue to keep quiet.

“Oh, come on,” said Itami, with her mouth stuffed with cake. “How about we share stories? I’m only getting older and the past seems so far away now. I’ve forgotten practically everything.” She said it as if it was a normal thing.

“It’s the stress of work, honey,” Toji replied. “But speaking of, you do bring up a great point.” Oh, Megumi knew that face. “I do have one story in mind – Megumi, you should hear this. The story is about you.”

Tsumiki widens her gaze, quite invested already. “Megumi?” she repeats.

“Yes, Megumi,” replied Toji and wasted no time to begin – Megumi’s horrid expression encouraged him to continue. “When he was young, about three or four – I don’t remember exactly, it was so long ago – but he was small. He wasn’t an ugly baby. I knew he’d grow well into his looks. That day Megumi wanted to take a walk around the neighbourhood and even begged me to go with him. Very unusual of him now, isn’t it?”

—

Megumi tried moving his feet at a faster pace, whilst also keeping his balance, behind his father, who seemed to be blazing across the street. He was fed up with his antics, aware of them at such a young age, but didn’t know how to speak well to be understood so he was forced to put up with it. Toji looks over his shoulder. “Hurry it up, Megumi. You’re so slow.”

He was trying! He felt frustration nibble at his tear ducts, his vision becoming blurry as he raced. Then finally, when he tried to keep his focus, his feet gave in. He stepped on one of his shoelaces and fell face-first.

He promised himself he wouldn’t cry, not in front of his father – he never really cried, ever – but as he stood up and saw his bruised knees, the tears came along.

He held his forehead with his hands, in an attempt to cool the burn that resided there.

Megumi glanced up at the looming figure that approached, then he stared at his shoelaces. He tried to speak but nothing came out, not a single eligible word, rather a mumbling whimper left his lips. He felt humiliated when his father let out a mocking laugh. He took Megumi by the hand and sat him down by the sidewalk, where he crouched to tie his shoelaces. The young boy refused to look at him in the face, his cheeks pink and wet.

“Hmph – that should do it,” he said. “Ta-da…” His father waved his hands over the shoes, as if it were a rainbow.

Megumi stared at his shoes longer than his father preferred, the quietness bugging him.

“You don’t like it? Or are you still sad?” Toji bent down to Megumi’s face level, staring deep into his red eyes; the boy barely talked, yet he had much to say with those glares he sent Toji’s way. He knew there was only one way to solve this and he sighed. “Get up, you little punk. Let’s go.”

The jingle of the grocery store notified their departure, the storekeeper bidding them farewell soon after. They left the store that day with Megumi holding a lollipop and his other hand interlocked with his fathers. A happy, content child with his fathers’ full attention.

—

“You were such a needy kid back then, weren’t you? Always got what you wanted with a look.”

Itami snortled, her laughter encompassing the room. Tsumiki began to tease Megumi as well, saying; “You pretend to hate Toji but you really like him, don’t you?” She continued, “You love him, even.”

“It’s none of your business,” he bit back, both his arms on the table, ready to pounce on anyone who thinks of saying another word. “Why tell them that story? You have others, don’t you?”

“I do, but Tsumiki was rarely around and you were a very clingy child.”

“I can attest to that!” Itami grinned. “You loved your father more than anything else. It pissed me off sometimes – I was the one that gave birth to you. But look at us now!” She locked her arm around Megumi’s neck. “You prefer me, don’t you?”

“How much have you had to drink? Your breath stinks!” Megumi tried to pull her away. Her chokehold was strong – it wasn’t budging at all.

“What about me? Don’t you guys have any memorable stories about me?” spoke the devil herself.

Both parents fell silent, and Itami let go of Megumi at last.

“Any stories?” she asked once again. “Mom?”

Itami grimaced and filled her mouth with cake. “O…oh!”

Tsumiki turned to Toji, who shrugged. “Eh? Was I really that forgettable?” she said.

“As I said, you were barely around,” began Toji, coming to Itami’s rescue. “Always out and about with friends, even as a child. Most days you would spend with your grandmother.”

He doesn’t mention that she never really liked him growing up or that Itami worked most days that left her less time to spend with her, and Tsumiki prefers he doesn’t mention it either.

“This is your day, Megumi,” Tsumiki hummed. “You’re the favourite child – don’t pretend you aren’t.”

“I wish I wasn’t,” he said. And he meant it.

He felt Toji’s staring at him. Those days are long gone and for good reason.

“Come to think of it, there is one thing that I remember well,” began Itami. “And it has something to do with you, Tsumiki, don’t worry.”

—
Megumi sat down on the bench of a crowded event, the heat beaming at his forehead.

He was lost. He rubbed his bandaged knees, watching everyone pass by him, waiting for a familiar face, voice even. The red tents were full of people, none of whom he knew. He kept to himself even after people came up to him, asking for his name and his parents’ numbers. He waited patiently; he chose to stay quiet.

“Hey kiddo, you okay?” asked the young woman. Megumi avoided eye contact as she bent over to him.

“Forget about it! He hasn’t opened his mouth since I got here – get any staff over here to deal with it,” said the man beside her, whose shirt was covered with sweat from Megumi’s point of view.

The woman glances worriedly at him, even angry, but returns her focus to Megumi, she opens her mouth but is interrupted by a young, girlish voice, “Please, leave him alone!” little Tsumiki shouts. She yanks Megumi by the hand, pulling him behind her.

“He’s my brother. Now please leave.” His eyes twinkle when he sees her face - although nervous, it was still Tsumiki.

The two grown-ups seem unsure for a moment but then slowly amble away, ushering and whispering to each other. Megumi doesn’t gather much yet he’s sure he’s heard a few words such as ‘freaky’, and ‘weird’ from the man.

“You okay, Megumi?” she asked, her grasp firm on his wrist. “You’re always quiet, you don’t even speak to defend yourself.”

He stares at the ground, shy. He wasn’t ever close to Tsumiki. To him, seeing her come to his defence brought him a sense of happiness - but he felt more embarrassed than he had with the strangers; she was kind. They never hung out and whenever they did, she would usually ignore him, still when he was being made fun of or bullied, she’d always stand up for him; she’s never once been cruel to him, only indifferent.

She pulled him once again, pushing against the crowd with her miniature frame. People even moved for them, without fuss or complaint; some pointed or attempted speaking to them, yet most made way for them. Behind her, Megumi found himself in awe of her. More than he was of his father.

—

“You were both so sweet, I remember you so fondly – coming up to us with your baby faces – oh, Tsumiki! Our little hero,” she said, in an exasperated cadence.

Tsumiki groans, and they turn their heads to find her in tears; attempting to hide her face from them in humiliation. “Don’t look at me, this is so embarrassing…”

Megumi scoffs, he wasn’t flattered and had no intention of hiding it. While Itami clapped cheerfully.

Toji clicks his tongue. “Crying over things like that is no use, Tsumiki. You’re his older sister, you should be proud.”

“Of what?” she snaps. “Nothing. I don’t like these kinds of stories; change them to something nicer.”

Tsumiki wiped the tears with her fingers and they obliged her by sharing more stories - some ranging from wild to mild, some that even intrigued Megumi, and this particular one that Toji mentioned that caught his attention.

“Do you remember when we had the teacher meeting conference a few months back?” said Toji, cleaning his ear with his pinky.

“Oh – no, no. Don’t remind me, it was horrible,” said Itami, through a nasal cadence, waving her hand about, as if she’d wave the topic away. “Just the thought of it drives me insane.”

“You remember that day, Megumi?”

“Are you ignoring me?” Itami said, balling her fists.

“No, I don’t,” said Megumi, quick to respond, hoping that the topic is shut just as quickly.

“Don’t ignore me!”

“Mom…” Tsumiki said. “Was it really so bad? Don’t you want to reminisce?”

The question was aimed towards Itami yet Toji answered in her place, raising his voice and shaking his head; “I don’t know what drives her choices whatsoever.”

“I wasn’t asking you…”

“Toji!” Itami hoisted off her seat to yank Toji by the collar. “You wanna do this bullsh*t right now, in front of the kids?!”

“Your breath reeks of alcohol.”

“That’s not the f*cking point!”

Megumi turned the page. The recipe for the perfect curry was actually just one simple ingredient; peppers. Megumi never liked spicy foods, especially containing pepper, but he’d figured he had to try it out. He was never one to put off something from his first impression – the curry does look good after all.

“Put down that stupid book and answer the goddamn question!”

There it was – the scariest sentence put together by man. He was quite sure of what Itami asked, but didn’t want to involve himself, so refused to answer. He turned the page: fan-favourite meatball recipe. Could it be better than Itadori’s? he wondered.

Sounds of rustling and bustling and the echo of Tsumiki’s fed up, tired yell ended at last. They sat down once more, settled.

Megumi looked up as the man spoke, huffing, “That’s all well and done now.” He sat deeper in his seat. “Don’t you have anything interesting to share the both of you?” he said, referring to Megumi and Tsumiki. “You leave all the story-telling to us, how inconsiderate.”

Tsumiki began thinking, humming out loud; “There’s nothing that comes to mind…Help me out, Megumi. Come on, don’t be stubborn.”

He thought for a while but the stares they gave him in anticipation were dreadful. “I have nothing.”

“Oh!” Tsumiki announced. “We didn’t continue your story – the one about the teacher-student conference.”

“O-h, you’re right. I almost forgot.” He looked to his wife, who attempted to tame her anger. “How about you let your mother begin? I’m feeling a bit parched at the moment.”

“You bastard…” She shook her head; even she couldn’t handle Toji’s teasing after years of marriage. “Well, kids, let’s start – of course, where should I begin?”

Toji places his elbow on the table and plants his face on his right hand. “Anywhere you’d like.”

Itami feigns a smile. “Yes, of course…”

—

Browsing through her phone, Itami finds herself growing weary of his household; they seldom go out, spending most times, that should be quality time, watching television or separately. How boring it is. Ideas would spring out her head faster than a working bee, yet it seemed today was different; work was harsh, the kids were bickering, and Toji was setting up a bucket filled with water on top of the door; what an asshole.

—

“A-h, I’m an asshole now,” Toji interrupts.

Itami wouldn’t hear it. “I’m glad you know yourself.”

Megumi felt he had to close his ears once more for the sake of his sanity.

“As I was saying…”

—

Truly, it was a boring day. As she scrolled through the mothers forum, specifically reading the ones complaining about their personal lives, she stumbled upon a post from a mother speaking about a teacher-student conference. Intrigued, she clicked on the post to gauge only one sentence: Teacher-Student conference in Hope’s Peak Academy… the rest was a blur to her.

She awoke, reinvigorated, a high-pitched shriek; “Tsumiki, Tsumiki! Tomorrow I’m going to your school and meet your teacher! How do I set an appointment? Tsumiki, listen to your mother and come here!”

Tsumiki felt her blood run cold, her skin crawling within her; she didn’t plan this, nor did she expect it. Wishing for her parents to forget, or to completely miss the conference, seemed to be only a wish. She believed if she sat quietly, pretending she did not hear, then her parents would forget as fast as goldfishes. Oh please god, she thought; begging.

Her mother was satan, and satan is always enticed. “Answer me, you ungrateful child!”

“Mom… Forget you’ve read anything, my teachers won’t even attend…”

“Who’s to say? Tsumiki, it’s so boring here. Your father is a wench, and your brother is a mouse; we need a day for only us women.” Itami held Tsumiki by the hands, squeezing the blood from them, with the most pathetic countenance beheld in mankind, just to gain her daughter's approval. “What’d you say? Mother-daughter spending time? Please?”

Tsumiki was quite bewildered, she took her time thinking and within that time frame, she smirked. She was plotting.

“Okay then, count me in.”

Her mother gasps in happiness, Tsumiki continues, “I’ll tell you how to set an appointment.”

“Oh, Tsumiki! You’re my favourite, you know that, don’t you?” Itami cooed, rewarding good behaviour with flattery, and her daughter attests to it each time.

—

“I’ll continue it from here,” interrupts Toji, again.

“Wh…What the f*ck is wrong with you?!” Itami blurts. “You asked me to share this, you bastard! Let me finish this story!”

Toji points to the kids, one nearly asleep and the other reading a cookbook. “Seems you aren’t so popular. Besides, you are so patronising to me, what have I ever done wrong?” he whines and it peeves his wife.

She inhales and exhales. “I wonder…” she said through gritted teeth.

Toji stared at her with a mischievous smirk. He waves his hand in a backward and forth motion. “Will you continue your story and get to the point?”

He was the only one who was willing to listen to her senseless storytelling, their daughter – who had asked for a story relevant to her – had her hand on her face, sleeping wistfully. Itami looked at the time, she held back her gasp; it was already half past seven! Had she really been speaking for that long earlier?

Ashamed, she looks pitifully at her husband, who waited for her to continue, extremely at ease. She wanted to punch him on the face.

“You continue your version of the story,” she mumbled. “Since the kids are so disinterested in mine and you’re so eager to share yours.”

Toji sat upright, stretching. “Really? You know I don’t have to… You can always continue with yours,” he said, in a mocking tone.

Itami groans, rubbing her hand on her forehead. “Please, stop antagonising me and get on with it!”

“Thank you,” he whispers, “honey.”

Her body shrivels up from its place. She covered her face in agony.

Megumi had a tendency to remind her of how terrible the man she married, and though she denied it profusely, she understood what he’d meant. That irritating smirk he gave her, the sly remarks, the gaslighting! It was unbearable, she couldn’t take it. It doesn’t feel like a joke anymore.

She was lightheaded as Toji started; “Megumi, listen up.”

Megumi tensed. Why him again?

The man tapped his fingers onto his chin, he was thinking and it made them all anxious. He pulled Tsumiki by the arm, shoving her awake, and once he was sure he’d gotten everyone's attention he spoke.

—

Around the time of Tsumiki’s parents-teacher meeting, Itami came up to Megumi; she seemed to have only one thing in mind, that was if his school was holding the same conference.

He tried avoiding her questions as well as he could, at some point, he was forced to turn to Toji for help. How could he explain to his mother that his school was not actually a school yet a haven where jujutsu sorcerers went to train? They barely studied – what would he even tell her? He pleaded with Toji without saying a word, he seemed to understand.

Toji nodded. “I understand. I’ll take him.”

Megumi felt like someone was pulling on his hair. He turned to Toji, confusion plastered all over, even more, contempt surged through him; he was distraught, betrayed, most of all, absolutely not getting rid of any grudges he had against him – and he had a ton.

If Toji has one trick, it’s how to use his charisma to ease any situation, using it in this stupendous encounter. Giving Megumi a thumbs up, he said; “Remind me again, what was his name? Gojo Satoru?” he continued, in utter bliss, treating it like a farce. “Ah, I haven’t met him in so long, last time I saw him was when I first registered you in that school…” He nodded off in reverie of thought and memories, he knew that Megumi was thinking the same thing he was with that scowl.

Megumi remembered just as vividly; his teacher wasn’t so fond of Toji though he tried to play it off, he kept giving him glances and asked him odd questions… If only he could remember. It was a weird first-meeting, he would’ve preferred if he had the memory itself disintegrated. Sadly, he knew it would be impossible; they were going to meet again. His teacher himself would be over the moon, he imagines. Getting to meet the man whom he so often asked about to Megumi.

His mother, though, wasn’t so pleased. “Ah… I thought I would go with him this time since you went last time… I really wanted to meet his teacher,” she mopes.

Toji wasn’t as gullible, he patted her on the back. “Don’t look so worried,” he said. “Maybe next time?”

—

“Did you truly think it would work on me back then?” He smiled.

Itami blinked herself to reality from his sudden question. She paused for a moment before answering, “Why didn’t it?” She smiled back at him.

They were so hold-and-cold with one another – Megumi could get a stroke trying to understand them.

“I don’t mean to intrude but,” said Tsumiki. She definitely meant to intrude. “Could you guys like… do this some other time?”

Megumi huffed in agreement.

Toji took a breath before he continued.

He and his wife discussed matters whilst Megumi was left on the sidelines hearing all of their plans without his input. He certainly had plenty to say yet stood there, astounded, as his parents arranged times, travelling plans, and expenses. They treated it like a holiday, excited chatting, speaking over one another or completing each other's sentences; Tsumiki held the same astounded expression.

He went to stop this unsolicited craze from his parents but before he could, Toji got up, chipper as they reached an agreement. He faced Megumi with a malicious grin. “It’s all done now.”

“Tsumiki, don’t forget to set your alarm at fifteen minutes past seven,” Itami said, right beside her daughter. “We have to go before I go to work.”

“That… early?” Tsumiki mumbled. “Eh? No way! Why not after you’re done with work?”

Itami clicks her teeth. “And waste the precious little time I have resting?”

Tsumiki agreed hurriedly, afraid of her mothers short fuse.

Then a sound - splash! - bribed her attention away from her mother.

The bucket rolled over to Tsumiki’s feet. They looked over to find Megumi absolutely drenched.

He forgot that Toji had set up the bucket on top of his door – he was foolish for not being careful. The fault was his – and damn if he could do something about it.

“...Megumi, are you alright?” she asked. The more she looked at her brother, the harder she found it to contain the laughter that fell out of her lips, cackling like a wild hyena and Toji’s loud roar, all at his expense. Itami at least had the decency to cover her mouth.

“Are you kidding me…?” Megumi gripped the door knob with all his strength, humiliated and cold.

—

Toji didn’t stop his tale but stared at Megumi to see if he was pulling any reactions out of him but it was completely blank. How disappointing – his son was good at pretending not to care – he may be well at hiding it yet Megumi was fuming at the relentless taunting from his sister and mother, especially Toji. He gritted his teeth, ensuring to keep his bubbling emotions at bay.

“Right, then afterwards…”

—

Begrudgingly, Megumi opened his phone and typed, holding his phone far from his nosey father who attempted to peer over the screen multiple times. He got close enough to read the last words of his teacher's reply and outloud, he said; “Coffee shop at three tomorrow…” He continued, “Not at that jujutsu school?”

Megumi shut off his phone quickly and shoved it away from Toji. “I know it’s impossible for you but could you try not to butt in?”

“Since I’m gonna meet this teacher of yours, I have to,” he replied, cleaning his ear with his pinky. “He’s weird if I must say so myself.” He picked his finger afterwards.

“Filthy,” Megumi said. “You’re both the same level of weird.”

Toji closed his eyes, scratching his nape and said; “My feelings, Megumi.” He pouted.

Creepy… he thought.

Hours passed by, and with each passing hour, Megumi dreaded the coming day more and more. He didn’t want to go, he refused the mere thought of it. His father hummed more often since the news – Megumi took it as a bad, unseen omen that will befall him soon; the windy, harsh weather insidiously raised his worries and added to his superstition. He shouldn’t go, he shouldn’t be doing this at all.

He rubbed his thumb on his palm before he interlocked his fingers, anxious.

Today was the day. To Megumi’s dismay, the storm had cleared, making way for the sun to shine through between the clouds; rays of orange and yellow shine between his blinds into his room. It was as if mother nature was against him; he imagined it and Toji laughing alongside each other in agreement of his torment.

He sat on his bed, creasing the neatly fixed blanket. The time on the watch on his stand said half past two. They had to be there by three. If they wanted to get there on time, they had to move now. A part of him brimmed in excitement that his oldman possibly forgot – an aloof, dimwitted man like him, it was plausible.

The feeling washed away as the door slammed open. “Are you ready?” his oldman said. Megumi was sure with the tone of his voice, the whole neighbourhood could hear him. He sighed, defeated, slumping over; of course he wouldn’t forget! How could he be so naive…

When his son didn’t respond, and instead hid his face with his hands in an attempt to sulk, Toji spoke up, louder this time. “Y’know those little tactics of yours haven’t won me over ever since you hit puberty – don’t expect me to feel bad for you now.”

“Whatever,” snapped Megumi, red tinting his cheeks for being called out, and he got up.

They were out the door soon after, Toji a few steps behind, allowing his son to lead the way.

Megumi held the phone in his hand, walking in the directions the map gave him; out of all the restaurants and cafes, Gojo had to choose the one he’d never heard of before. He wished they were using the car if it weren’t for his Mothers busy work schedule – if he could call it a schedule.

Behind him, Toji stopped every few steps in case he ended up ahead of Megumi. The way he paused each time irked Megumi. He looked like a fool and pretended to be high-and-mighty.

As they passed by a multitude of stands and restaurants, the whiff of delicious food stirs in their stomach, leaving them hungry. And after walking for some time, Toji got impatient. “When are we gonna reach the place?” he said and clicked his tongue. “I’m beginning to doubt it even exists.”

“Don’t worry,” reassured Megumi, “you’ll get used to Mr. Gojo soon enough. You’re made from the same font.” They were both mischievous, aloof, and irresponsible – they would certainly get along and soon gang up on him.

Toji hums in response. “I doubt it.”

They make a turn and step up the stairs and stand in front of the place. They looked at each other before going in. Blinking in the light, Megumi was surprised at the sight. It was a small place with little customers yet was oddly cosy – the place had paintings hooked on every side of the wall, cushions in the middle of the cafe with plenty of plants, the sunlight came in from the other side where there were huge windows rather than wooden walls. It was comforting, and it was also an unsettling choice for someone like Mr. Gojo.

For a moment, he felt relieved by the thought of Satoru being late. That feeling soon wavered and dissipated, just as it did before, as he turned his head when someone called out to them, waving. He was on time!

Why was he early today? Was the universe playing tricks at him?

Megumi forced himself to stay put instead of darting out of the cafe. This was happening, he had to put up with it and ensure that they finish as soon as possible.

Toji patted Megumi on the back, pushing him to move, and they walked toward Satoru. Though the establishment was empty, he chose a table right beside the bathroom.

“You must be hungry after passing by all those restaurants, right?” he said. “Don’t you worry, this cafe is more than a treat itself. Sit, sit!”

Mr. Gojo… He chose this place on purpose.

Toji chuckled briefly. “Now I see why you chose this place.”

Satoru said nothing to the man, instead ushering them to the seats opposite of him. “We’ve met before so I don’t think I have to introduce myself again.”

“Yes…” Toji pulled out his chair and sat. “There’s no need.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” said Satoru, more serious this time. “Our pastries should arrive at any minute.”

Megumi huffed. “You ordered without us?” He was trying his damndest to keep his composure in front of his oldman.

“Don’t accuse me of that without knowing the reason,” cried Satoru, and he waved his hands around in performance. “You see, they have Ethiopian Harrar coffee beans that they add to their tiramisu – those coffee beans are not only high-quality but it’s a seasonal treat! I thought I had told you this through the phone, Megumi.”

What a fool, thought Toji.

Shut up for the sake of my sanity, thought Megumi. He saw the message but ignored it.

Satoru continued, “You understand why I had to order it.”

He looked over to his oldman who shared the same expression as him; utter confusion. He never thought he’d see the day in which his oldman finds someone weirder than he is – without any social cues or charisma. He stifled a snicker.

Toji spoke before anyone could, “I have no interest in that… I’m only here to ask about my son.”

Satoru perked up. “Oh-h, right, my bad,” he said, as if it were a jovial conversation between friends. He leaned his elbows against the table and thought out loud, getting straight to the point – tapping his feet in impatience. “Megumi is a good student – in fact, I have to say, he stands out from the rest of the students for the sole reason that he inherited the Ten Shadows Technique; it’s a good thing he has me as his teacher, I’m afraid no one else would know how to teach a person with a strong cursed technique… He’s been able to efficiently control his techniques output and summon new shikigami at will – but it’s still not perfect.” He then switched to a more relaxed position, with his arm on the top rail. “There’s only one thing Megumi has difficulty in,” he said, raising a finger, “and it’s close combat.”

Without missing a beat, Satoru said, “Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“That’s it?” Toji asks.

Satoru smirks, acting cool. “I could go on… Besides, speaking of my students does make me feel somewhat proud.”

Being talked about in front of him but still unable to speak up for himself made Megumi feel uneasy.

Toji’s fingers steepled under his chin; he was thinking, and Megumi felt nervous of what would come out of his mouth; how was he going to embarrass him?

“Close combat…?” he finally said. “Ah, I see it now. Since he has a long-distance technique, you intend to throw off any threats with close combat?”

“Nice! I didn’t expect you to catch on so quickly.” Satoru beamed. “But that’s exactly it.”

It was silent for a while as Toji recovered his poise, and countered, “For someone lacking all sense of self-respect, I’m surprised you were able to think of something like that,” he continued, “or, perhaps, the idea wasn’t yours at all? That would explain it.”

Megumi could feel the tense air; these two oldmen were not friends yet, somehow, made enemies of each other. He wanted to melt into his chair after Satoru’s sly comment; he saw how Satoru interacted with other teachers and students, and it was far from ideal, but he expected more respect from him when it came to his oldman. Ah… Maybe he was too optimistic.

“Here you go,” the waiter set down two plates and three cups of completely black coffee, then said shyly, “Enjoy.” He eyed Satoru, perhaps Megumi’s eyes were tricking him but he was sure he saw the waiter's face turn into a tint of pink before he hurried away.

Toji, without waiting another moment, started by adding more sugar packets to his cup, then pouring the milk till the brown of his coffee turned to beige, mixing it vigorously; the coffee spilled from the edges. Megumi thinks he’s pissed, Satoru thinks otherwise, his movements are more careful now. He ignores the desserts and speaks slowly, “I wasn’t sure what you’d like. I would’ve ordered you something else if I had known you weren’t fond of black coffee.”

Toji hums, “Don’t worry about it.” Coffee doesn’t normally have any effect on him, nor does any drug, mainly due to his Heavenly Restriction – Satoru played dumb but that could be the reason why he was so eager to have a teacher-student meeting, he could be aware of that, only waiting for the right moment…

Satoru then calls Megumi, “Finish your cup – I’ve ordered another for you specifically. It’s on me so make sure to savour it.” He finger-guns him.

Megumi leans toward him to reply but before he does so he stops when notices his teachers agitated shoulders and his troubled countenance. He sits back down, alarmed. His teacher was behaving erratically and he was afraid that Satoru would do something he’d end up regretting.

“Alright…” Megumi said, feeling awkward by the silence that came afterwards.

He glanced over at Satoru and his teacher looked back at him then smiled, giving him a thumbs up, which made Megumi’s toes curl. Eager to pass time, he grabbed a spoon and dug in, being acutely aware of the two men staring at him. He was never one to like sweets but, as much as he liked the quiet, this specific quietness discomforted him, and as he took his first bite, Satoru spoke; “Is it good? I hope it is since it’s damn expensive for a tiramisu…”

Megumi nodded. “It’s fine,” he said, then waited before adding, “Who’s going to eat the second one?”

“No one! I ordered it for take-away.”

Then Toji said, “Ah, did you forget to tell them that before ordering?”

Satoru raised his brows, unfazed. “No… I don’t think they heard me.”

“That’s too bad…” said Toji, unsympathetically.

The air was growing tense again and Megumi felt his intestines swimming, he took another bite of the tiramisu to satiate it. Toji had finally settled down with his coffee but Satoru was on-edge, and it kept Megumi on-edge alongside him.

Not soon after did they start again with comments and jabs at the others expense. Megumi sat uncomfortably as he watched the men make feeble attempts undermining their appearances and it reached a point where they were comparing skills. People stared at them and Megumi wanted to toss himself out the window in shame.

Had they forgotten about him? They were more focused on what they had to offer more than anything… Megumi thought of sneaking out while they were distracted, while he still had a chance. Peering at them then at the exit, he thinks of a discreet plan of escape.

“Your coffee… sir.” The waiter interrupts him, setting the cup right beside his unfinished one; he was hesitant and seemed to have thought Megumi was older than he actually was.

“Ah… Thank you,” mumbled Megumi. He watched as the waiter took off after his longing gaze directed toward Satoru. Megumi bit his tongue to try to keep his mouth shut and his thoughts to himself.

He took sips of his hot, fresh coffee, and he was lost in thought, ignoring everything around him. He drank his coffee slowly to stave off his boredom, and Satoru requested earlier that he finish it so that was what he tried to do; he would’ve done it well if every so often his oldman didn’t bump his elbow against Megumi’s.

Toji, getting stirred over whatever Satoru said, elbows Megumi’s elbow again and this time the handle slips from Meguni’s fingers, spilling on him and the table. The cup spins and once it stops, he stares at the other two men. “Are you kidding me?” he spat. “Do you all think this is some sort of game?”

They finally stopped, they stared at each other before looking back at Megumi. They weren’t taking him seriously at all, perhaps he could cease to exist and none of them would even notice. Toji seemed the most uncomfortable as he held Megumi’s shoulder, he said; “We didn’t forget about you.”

Satoru made a sound and turned his head to the other side; Megumi felt the urge to jam his teacher's teeth in if he thought the situation was so amusing.

His oldman began wiping his shirt with tissues and it accelerated Megumi’s frustration. He stood suddenly, stopping him in his tracks. “If only you’d sit back down, I’m trying to help you…”

“I’m going to the bathroom anyway, it doesn’t matter,” he said, walking briskly past them.

Satoru whistled. “One scary kid.”

—

“I wish I hadn’t met your teacher that day…” muttered Toji. Megumi knitted his brows, slacking his jaw specifically by the utterance of those words from that man specifically. He looked to see if anyone had the same reaction but his sister and mother were unresponsive, immobile. It was like the words were said for only him to hear.

Once again, it feels the whole situation had played out before and a sense of deja vu overwhelmed him. It didn’t feel real. Toji never said that during his mothers birthday.

Toji continues his story and Megumi is left disoriented. Oddly enough, through his haze, he notes how the man leaves one vital piece of information; it brings him back to reality and almost makes him scoff.

—

As they give their goodbyes and part, they’re interrupted by a boy, not older than Megumi, running towards Satoru, with a note in hand. “Wait!” he yelled and lent the paper to Satoru, the teacher accepting it disgracefully. Toji and Megumi glance at each other and watch the encounter unfold before them; Satoru was accustomed to it but acted flattered.

“Oh… It’s the waiter.” Toji grinned. “You saw it too, right? How he was staring at your dimwitted teacher…”

Megumi hid his hands in his pockets. “Other than his looks, I don’t understand what he sees in him.”

“Sorry to say this about him but the mans’ got no charm.” Toji stared at the takeaway tiramisu in his hands that his son took two bites out of.

Megumi smiled. “You shouldn’t be sorry.”

“Oh? So you agree, then?”

“Only this time,” Megumi said. “Don’t start inflating your head and get the wrong idea.”

Toji felt something inside of him crack. “Are you saying I’ve got a big head?”

They were interrupted by an enthusiastic Satoru, who waves at them from afar, yelling his goodbyes; happy with his tiramisu and a note in hand.

Rather than walking, Toji and Megumi fall into a walking sprint to get away from him and his embarrassing presence.

When they slowed down their normal pace, they were strolling through the same street of cafes and food joints. “You wanna go to that restaurant we passed by earlier?” Toji said. “Your old favourite.”

Megumi felt his stomach grumble, that cake his teacher adulated so much wasn’t so filling. He nodded.

—

Toji made it sound pleasant. Megumi had a completely opposite version of the story. He kept quiet for the sake of upkeeping the lively ambiance.

“Wow… I’m so jealous,” grumbles Tsumiki. “All I remember is how angry mom was when we got back from the meeting.”

Itami huffs. “Don’t remind me, your teacher was unbearable. All of them were.”

Tsumiki pouts. “That’s because you kept trying to pick a fight with them.”

“Toji tried to pick a fight with mines, too.”

“But you’re different,” Tsumiki blurted. “You had fun, you got to enjoy it.”

Toji scratched the back of his head. “Not so,” he said. “His teacher was truly no better than an ass.”

Whilst Satoru was no animal, him being compared to a donkey seemed adequate. Megumi could imagine it; Satoru and a donkey side-by-side. A suitable choice.

“You didn’t have fun with your mom?” Itami cried. “Your own mother?!” She leant over the table to hug her daughter.

Tsumiki squeals as the bottle drops with a loud bang! And her mother envelopes her with a firm grip, unrelenting. She smelt of sweat and her breath stank of beer as she whimpered, “Tsumiki… Ugh… Sometimes…” she stopped, breathing heavily. “Sometimes… I wish you were a better daughter… Your poor old mother…”

Tsumiki pushed her off but her mother barely moved. “Get off…! Find a better daughter!” Then it turned into a battle of strength. His sister was outraged, her face had turned red and her countenance out for blood. On the other hand, Itami seemed to be enjoying her fury, laughing through her tears. “Stop it! Stop it, Tsumiki - that tickles!”

“Your jokes aren’t even funny! You’re the same as Toji,” she said through gasping breaths.

Toji points at himself after hearing his name. “Me? What’d I do?”

“What haven’t you done?” Megumi snaps.

Toji turned between the two, exasperated. “What? What’d I do?”

That’s right… What hadn’t Toji done?

That talk he had with Gojo Satoru whilst Megumi was ‘in the bathroom’. That day when Satoru confronted his oldman and he found out that one secret he wished he did not know. After he’d gone to the bathroom to get rid of all the coffee, which Satoru had ordered, from his shirt and, also, his bladder. As he walked through the hallway to the table, the sharp tones of both men made him pause; they were loud, and it seemed heated.

He peered in closer, unmoving, listening in at the vile cadence Satoru was using with his oldman.

“...surprised to find out about your history!” Satoru said, frantic. “I found it ironic, a man who murdered jujutsu sorcerers for a living and then who enlisted his son in a school dedicated to just that? No way!” He waved his arms to accentuate his point but then sat back and continued, “It sounded surreal to me.”

After some silence, Toji spoke; “You wasted all your time to find that nonsense about me?”

“A man with no Cursed Energy! I got curious and had someone find everything they could about you.” Satoru relaxed his arms behind his head. “I believed it was nonsense at first. I couldn’t believe it until I saw it.” He shrugged. “But you’d be surprised how many people reached out, most spoke without us threatening them,” he said with a snort. This was like a walk in the park for him. It irritated Toji who tried his best to keep his composure.

After a long pause, Satoru said, “I’m sure you’ve turned over a new leaf, got a better life, but I can’t help but question your intentions, especially since you are so close to my student. I hope you don’t feel any offence at what I’m about to ask.” Satoru turned serious. “You wouldn’t have any ulterior motives, would you?”

Toji bit the inside of his cheek as he glared at the blindfolded man. “No, of course not.” He chuckled, albeit forced. He wasn’t afraid, far from it, he took a stance of someone in their element, looking at prey; his irritation turned to entertainment.

As both men stared at each other, Satoru grinned, which bemused Toji. “Ah-h-h! That’s what I thought.” Satoru disengaged himself, observing how Toji grew wary. “Sorry about that.”

The weirdest part of their interaction wasn’t the place but the fact Megumi knew that his teacher could feel his presence, yet he continued talking. He wanted him to find out. But why?

Could Toji tell as well?

Satoru continued talking, the conversation geared toward his teacher attempting to hire Toji as one of them; a jujutsu sorcerer. Toji didn’t stay compliant, refusing his offer, no matter how it was asked. And Megumi froze, trying to grasp what he’d just heard.

He was in shambles, he felt as if the whole world before him crumbled. What will he do with this information now? He couldn’t ask Toji… It wouldn’t settle any doubts brimming within him. Truth be told, Megumi didn’t think Toji would be bothered to answer any of his questions. Nor would he care to disprove them. He kept thinking but could no longer make sense of the words forming in his mind, he tried to maintain his focus with no use.

He suddenly snapped out of it. This flashback… it didn’t feel like his memory per se, it felt as if he was remembering whilst he was reliving this moment. Before this, he had never come across such thoughts - or had he? He held a hand to his forehead, the room around him began to spin, his head drowning.

He swallowed thickly and walked to their table. He sat, silent.

—

“I really want a boyfriend…” Tsumiki groaned after getting Itami off of her. Megumi felt as if he got whiplashed.

Itami choked on her beer.

Toji raised his brow. “Where’d that come from?”

Coughing violently, Itami stuttered, “Wh… What boyfriend?!”

“You’re overreacting… I didn’t say I have a boyfriend, I want one,” Tsumiki said, rotating a finger around her bangs.

Megumi’s ears perked up, and though those words weren’t something he’d ever want to hear coming from his sister, his curiosity would devour him. “...Why do you want a boyfriend?” he said, his cadence nearly a whisper.

There was silence. Tsumiki’s jaw slacked open, even his parents got quiet, Toji’s lips twitching. Was his question too weird? Megumi had never shown interest in anyone's endeavours or lives before so perhaps it could be that he spoke out of turn or that the question was wildly inappropriate. Whatever it was, it made his skin crawl.

Tsumiki spoke as if she could feel Megumi’s unease, “I…” she said with a meek smile. “I didn’t expect you to ask that.”

“Nobody did,” interrupted Toji. “Are you sure this is Megumi?” He turned to his wife and regretted doing so, as to what he saw… She was way out of it! She nodded like she understood but her body moved erratically, like she was trying to hold something back, and when it looked like she had calmed down and was about to speak, she retched – they realised what was about to happen yet it was too late – Itami had thrown up on the table.

“Oh, no…” she sobbed. “I got it over my clothes…”

The talk about boyfriends seemed to have worsened her sickness – it made Megumi sick too. It was for the best as she would sober up.

Toji sighed before getting up, it was time for him to do his duty and clean up the mess. They’ve gotten used to it and were apathetic to the whole thing. “I’m going to get her clothes,” said Tsumiki.

“I’ll get her water,” said Megumi.

Itami manages to speak before Megumi gets up, “No… Could you just get me milk instead?”

Toji and Megumi stiffened. That was the last thing they expected her to ask and it was something they hadn’t put into consideration at all.

He stared at Toji; how was that jackass going to explain that he’d finished all the milk?

The man pretended to seem as disconcert as he could while helping his wife from her seat, holding her steady. “You finished it yesterday, don’t you remember?”

She twists to face him and almost trips. “What…? I’m sure I bought another one…”

Toji then shook his head. “Must be from all the stress that you don’t remember.”

Megumi knew that Toji knew she hadn’t bought it but in the current state she was in, there wasn’t anything she could do about it. Either she was blind or in love. She held on as Toji helped her walk toward the bathroom. “Megumi, please get the water.”

He clicked his tongue. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

“For your mother then,” he said, in a deep cadence, “you brat.” He made sure Megumi could hear him.

Megumi itched to flip him off while the other man wasn’t looking. He knew his relationship with Toji wasn’t the best and the thought of making it worse disturbed him still – yet if it weren’t for that, he definitely would’ve.

While Megumi cleaned off the vomit from the table, trying not to retch, Tsumiki came back with clothes and a blanket, putting it right beside the bathroom – Itami did get cold after she’d sober up, not because it’s the aftereffects of her drinking, but due to Toji’s way of sobering her up – so the blanket in this case was a necessity.

“The water's cold, you asshole!” They could hear her shriek from the bathroom, it seemed to be a struggle this time; she wasn’t budging at all. “I told you that–” It was still for a while then Toji opened the bathroom door and took the clothes from the floor. “Such a bothersome drunk… You can dress yourself, can’t you?”

She snatched the clothes from his hands and shut the door.

Toji shrugged. “I’m glad I can never get drunk,” he said. “I don’t have to worry about getting like that.”

Megumi didn’t admit it outloud, but Toji was right (for the second time). Some people are more acquitted to handling their alcohol, his mother was just never one of those people; she was an immature drunk and even with kids, she isn’t able to control the sudden mood swings. She frequently blamed it on work and while work can be stressful, could it be this bad?

She didn’t do it often so they were never too concerned… It was only when things got bad would she go on a drinking spree. Her and Toji were polar opposites in that particular aspect.

Toji brought out new plates in place of the ones that have been vomited on, ensuring everything was the way it was before, trying to keep it together.

“Her words really did hurt…” Tsumiki grimaced as she recollected her mothers sharp words. “A better daughter…? She’s never said that before.”

Toji stopped what he was doing and ruffled her hair in his best attempt to tease her. “She didn’t mean it,” he reassured. “She’s just being lousy again… You know how she is.” He sat on his spot beside her. Seeing as she was still distressed, he hummed, “You want me to confront her about it?”

“Don’t talk to me as if I’m a child…” she uttered.

Toji breathed heavily through his nose, on the verge of giving up. “Why do you kids have to be so difficult?” he asked, yet it was framed more as an insult.

Tsumiki leans on her hand. “Sorry,” she spat. “I didn’t mean to be difficult.” Toji seemed to be pressing all the wrong buttons on everyone today; he rubbed his temples, troubled.

He didn’t have it to explain himself but he wasn’t the type to keep quiet either.

Itami comes out of the bathroom with her slightly damp hair, drying it with a towel, shaking her head to get rid of the droplets on her face, getting it over Toji; her enraging quirk that he bears with no complaints except a hint of disapproval. She nonchalantly sat back down, in a better countenance than before.

“Tsumiki’s sad because of you,” blurted Toji. He stuck out his tongue at her.

Tsumiki's breath hitched and she turned between her mother and Toji. “I’m not sad!” she said, straightening her back. “Will you ever grow up?”

Itami raises her eyebrows in confusion and crosses her arms. “Did something happen?”

Tsumiki tries to shut the conversation down but Megumi chimes in, “Don’t try to deny it, you’re a horrible liar.”

His sister was about to refute his claim but felt too embarrassed to speak up. She hid her face in her hands.

“You should control your drinking urges,” Toji said, referring to Itami – and by his sincere, but co*cky, look, she seemed to have understood and was too ashamed to say anything.

“Can we talk about boyfriends instead?” began Tsumiki, her voice muffled; she saw them through the gaps in between her fingers. “Don’t give me that look… I just don’t want you to start fighting.”

“Really…” Itami muttered. “What brought this on?” she asked.

Toji butted in, “I’m not interested in talking about boys.” ButTsumiki had already brought out her phone, searching for a while before she leant over and turned the screen for them to see. Megumi’s eyes widened, he stifled a gasp.

!!! EDIT HEAVILY…
“You know her, right?” Tsumiki raised her voice, more jittery and excited. “Fujinuma has a boyfriend!” Her eyes seemed to sparkle.

“Fujinuma…?” he mumbled. He never believed Tsumiki was one to have any interest in that talk. “I didn’t expect that coming from you…”

“Megumi, did you think I would be a single cat mom?” she said, shivering at the thought. “I couldn’t even imagine.”

It made sense why she was holding her phone. She looked more childish with her sheepish smile; admitting that made her quite shy and her face turned red.

“Do what you want,” Megumi grumbled.

Tsumiki puckered her lips, embarrassed of even endorsing the idea of having a boyfriend.

Toji and Itami were in a discussion of their own, his wife kicking his feet and telling him ‘not to say it,’ repeatedly yet that enticed him into asking and she slumped over, having given up, trying to hide herself in her blanket. “How’d they meet?” Toji asked with the genuine curiosity of a teenage girl. Tsumiki jumped on her seat, it was the question she was waiting for!

“Well…” she said, her words going through a deaf-eared Megumi. She waved her hands around excitedly as she spoke. Megumi and Itami watched on like they were watching zoo animals interacting.

Tsumiki started from the beginning; how Fujinuma met Kaito and how they’d fallen in love, to the point where they got to now. “They weren’t in the same school actually…” she said. “She’d met him from Megumi’s middle school–”

“My what?” Megumi interrupted. He was paying attention now.

Tsumiki stuttered and said; “Your old middle school… She’s into younger guys.”

“What’s wrong with young men?” Itami said. “They aren’t so bad.” One way or another, she had to remind them about her and Toji’s two year age difference, which wasn’t as big a deal as she made it out to be.

“It’s not a huge age gap… He’s in his third year.”

Toji nudged her. “So?” he asked. “What happened afterwards?”

Tsumiki halted for a while before redirecting her attention back to Toji; at least he wanted to listen. All Itami did was ask questions – that even after being answered, she would laugh at or repeat what she’d asked.

Tsumiki thinks of a devious plan at that moment – with the same expression when her mother asks something from her and she feels like she can earn something from it.

“...Fujinuma and Kaito met bumping into each other in the park while the sakura trees were in full blossom, they were in awe and fell in love at first sight,” she said, caressing her cheeks with her hand, as if in a dream stuck reverie. “It was so romantic… He picked up her purse for her too…” Toji was about to tell her she had already said that but kept those thoughts to himself; he knew better than to disrupt her.

“How about you both?” began Tsumiki, piping up, putting her plan into action. “What’s your love story? How did you both meet? Tell me all the details!” she said, tripping over her words, her sudden enthusiasm bemused them all but there was one man who felt enticed to deliver – sharing stories was his forte, and this particular one he was itching to share.

Toji was about to speak, his hand on his jaw, but his wife beat him to it. “A-h, how we met, you say?” she said. “Well, ask and we shall deliver!” She gripped the fork and it bent as her keenness overtook her; her husband irked, taking the fork from her hand nonchalantly, as it was a common occurrence.

“In the old place where I used to work back during my college days, he was a frequent customer,” she began. “He never got drunk but for some reason always caused problems with other drunks!” Itami reminisced, after a while she continued, “It was your average love story - I found him annoying, sometimes I wished he would leave and never come back. He didn’t even know I existed – or that I was his waiter for that matter – but we were bound to fall in love!” She moved her hand forth in performance.

Megumi cringed. She was much more noisy than Toji when she got riled up.

—

Itami cleaned the dishes, it was another full day today again. They were usually full during weekends but it wasn’t unusual for it to be full during weekdays – usually retired elderly people that had nothing left to do with their life would become regulars; they’d come here to pass the time or to get some drinks and, what they were most commonly known for, gambling. Itami didn’t think it was gambling, they were only betting on carts or equestrian races – mostly those silly boat rides. Perhaps some considered it gambling, and she did, somewhat, but her role was to make sure her customers spent as much money as possible, even if it meant ailing their guilt; consequently, even she began to believe her own words as she spoke and thought of them more than anyone.

There was only one other man inside, scratching the lottery tickets with a coin. Not much older than her but a regular. This also wasn’t unusual yet every time she saw someone around his age here, she would think they were low-lifes for not trying to land a job; she could never feel compassion for someone who gave up everything and settled for gambling or betting their whole life.

She sighed. His good looks were certainly for nothing, what a shame. She had to close soon. She had plenty left to do and wasted no time going up to the man who seemed dismayed by his results.

“We’re closing soon,” she said, disconcerted.

Toji didn’t even look at her. He pretended not to hear her and said, “I’ll have a beer.”

She would be pissed any other day but she was exhausted. “Beer… So you do drink, huh?” she said.

He finally looked at her but said nothing.

Freaky….

She went to the back to prepare it for him; she wanted to leave early but now that seems unlikely.

Itami put the tankard on the table and waited. If he’d make her stay over time, the least he could do was entertain her.

Unfazed by her presence, he put it to his lips and forcibly gulped it. He didn’t savour it for long and said, “Terrible.”

His response ticked Itami. “If you hate it then why order it?” she asked, half not expecting him to answer.

He shrugged and picked up his coin to scratch another lottery ticket; his expression as unwavering as before, he wasn’t focused nor did he expect to win anything. Almost as if it was a habit.

“You people truly are lowlives…” It was way past her shift and yet she found herself intrigued more than irritated; was there something wrong with her? Itami began to wonder.

When was the last time she talked to another person so normally? Without fretting over work and such… She had become fatigued; she’d get home then she’d awake to start her shift all over again.

This was the most she’d been talked to in weeks ever since her college finals, and spending most of her time learning how to take care of Tsumiki after her father passed. It wouldn’t be bad for her to enjoy it, right?

Rather than allowing herself to think further, she grabbed the tankard and in one fell swoop gulped it at once, a refreshed sigh left her lips. Now she wanted more; she no longer cared whether she was thinking straight and this poor man, whom she presumed had no life, was forced to bear through it with her.

She sat down right beside him after refilling her tankard, observing him scratching the lottery tickets; he sure brought a ton and so far, he’d only won around a hundred yen.

He ignored her. She didn’t exist whatsoever.

She took it as a sign to do whatever she wanted and taking one lottery ticket from beneath him began scratching with her own coin.

Perhaps he was unlucky – or she was lucky – because she had won a thousand yen!

“Hu-ho, I am so lucky!” she boasted. “I need another drink to celebrate!”

Meanwhile, Toji was brimming with malevolence with his winnings; that was supposed to be his win! He grabbed it from her hand and said; “That’s my ticket, I bought it with my own money. Go get your own.”

Itami’s celebration was cut short. She watched in horror as he huffed in pride, eyeing the ticket like it was treasure.

“I’d.. still won it…” she said, defeated. Then more furiously, “I won it!” She jumped from her seat to grab the ticket but he was quick to pull it away; more than quick, he was lightning fast!

He looks at her the same way she’d been looking at him earlier: ‘What a weirdo…’that was what he was thinking right now! She could see right through those eyes.

Nevertheless, nothing can get in between this woman and her need to win; no matter the cost. She grabs another one from beneath him, knowing he wouldn’t object. She was not giving up yet, not when she had obviously won it and it was stolen from her! Most of that money he has ‘earned’, he would lose through gambling!

With little effort, she had yet again won a thousand yen. This time, keeping her celebration to herself and hiding the ticket right to her chest, her futile attempt of protecting it.

Toji put his hand out. “That’s mine.”

Itami attempts to speak but feels her lips give out. She was only able to stare at him, frustrated as she fumbled over her words, “N… No. I hadn’t won anything… I won’t…”

The silence drew on, he wasn’t waiting for her to finish. He wanted her to hand over what was his.

She gritted her teeth and pushed her hand out for him to take the ticket. “So unfair,” she muttered and as she went to grab another one, he stopped her.

“I told you to go get your own,” he said. “Are you deaf?”

Scary, scary, scary! Itami would’ve shat her pants if she had weak bowels.

But she held herself together, she had seen people like him multiple times, this shouldn’t be a problem. “What’s the matter with you? Are you afraid I’ll win again?” she blurted. “This is such bullsh*t!”

Toji whistled and leaned against his chair. He, rightfully so, didn’t answer that.

Itami grabbed her tankard and went to the back to refill it, stomping her way there. This was her third drink; any more and she’d get drunk beyond repair. She’d be acting unprofessional, even lose her job because of the man.

Who cares? She deserved this drink.

She went back to sit with the man again. She hadn’t completely given up trying to scratch one more ticket. One and then she was done, she hoped. She had to win more than him to spite him at least.

—

Itami continued speaking, and her words fell on a deaf-eared Megumi who’d lost interest from the beginning, only pushing through ‘till she reached the end – he didn’t want to interrupt her.

His eyes were on the cake and had been for the past few minutes – he thought it looked good, and though he hadn’t tasted it yet, and wouldn’t have ever considered it, boredom prevails. He picked up his spoon and dug in, deciding to try what Toji had in store for them – the red colour didn’t look too appetising, truly, he was never a fan of red velvet in general but its colour was the least of his concerns – it was the taste; he despised sweets.

Tsumiki stared at him as he took a bite, waiting for Megumi’s response.

Chewy, too sweet and filthy – as he’d suspected. He sped up his chewing to get rid of it from his taste buds but before he could process it, he already swallowed it! It was a chunky piece and wouldn’t go down. He swallowed his saliva, hoping the cake would go down smoothly with it but it felt rough against his throat. He tried coughing but nothing came out. He tried to inhale but the air wouldn’t go in.

This couldn’t be happening – it was all too silly. He attempted to chuckle, trying to soothe himself, instead panic swallowed him.

“Megumi?” Tsumiki called, worry in her eyes. Itami had stopped sharing her story and both parents were staring at him now.

He tried to cough again but nothing would come out, the panic fully clutched him as the realisation dawned on him – he was choking.

He dropped the spoon, getting up abruptly, wrapping his hands around his throat, his eyes widening as he saw black dots in his vision. He could faintly hear his mother yell but couldn’t comprehend what it was that came out her mouth.

Was this how he died? On his mothers birthday? He still had so much he wanted to say to his oldman – was that never going to happen?

He would die with guilt. That was it.

Suddenly he felt muscular arms around his torso, right below his ribcage, pulling with all their strength and Megumi swore he could feel his ribs break at that moment; the cake flew out of his mouth faster than he could process. Everything came back to him, the black dots disappeared from his vision; his sister's face became clearer and so did his mothers, they were absolutely terrified.

But before he could sigh of relief, the man behind him pulled once again and Megumi was sure he broke some ribs this time, he could hear popping and cracks.

He elbowed Toji’s arms, trying to communicate to the man that he was still alive, and he finally let go of him, although unsure and anticipating the worst. The man stared at Megumi’s back. He wanted to take a good look at Megumi but couldn’t move; ready to act if things got worse again.

Adrenaline was still pumping through them all and the only thing that can be heard were the droplets of water falling into the sink and that distracting clock ticking.

His mother puts down the phone, the emergency contact digits on it. She was the first to move and sit back down, her hand against her heart, stuck in a trance.

Toji picked up Megumi’s chair he threw to get to him, his expression unreadable – his movements were calm despite Megumi’s near encounter with death.

It sunk in, and the adrenaline subsided.

He’d almost died, and while that wasn’t an unusual occurrence for someone like him, he hadn’t expected to die by choking – death by a curse would’ve been less humiliating than this. He looked at Toji, who moved to sit back on his seat, restless.

Tsumiki mouthed to him, it was barely audible, “Bastard…” She clicked her tongue. “You deserved that – no one eats cake like that.”

“I didn’t choke on purpose,” Megumi said, waspish. He coughed – his voice was raspy and speaking pained him – he coughed again; it didn’t stop once.

“Don’t say that, Tsumiki!” Itami snapped, red down her neck; whether she was furious or stressed, that flush would make it apparent – and she was red. She put her hand on her forehead. “Ah… I shouldn’t have raised my voice… My head.”

Megumi plopped back onto his seat, wanting to melt into it. They avoided each other's eyes – uncomfortable and preferring to stare at the walls or the ceiling. What could one say after a situation like that? They weren’t the type to cry, except Tsumiki, but they weren’t the type to comfort either – unless it was Tsumiki.

Megumi's eyes naturally gravitated to Toji, overwhelmed more than confused. He hadn’t even stood for a second but the man was right behind him. It shouldn’t have affected him as deeply as it was – he was doing what any normal person would do; should he have left Megumi to choke on his own? Yet, even with that fact, it didn’t take away the lingering feeling that overtook him during that moment. “Thanks for not letting me die,” he said coldly, his countenance apathetic.

Toji snorted. “Should I have just let you die?”

Seriously, what was up with this guy? He regretted showing him any gratitude.

“I take it back,” he countered.

“Get your head out of your ass – I saved your life.”

“I’ll put your head right where it belongs.”

“Megumi–”

“What?”

Tsumiki stood on her chair. “Stop!” she yelled. “Save us the headache.”

“I’ve definitely got a headache…” Itami whimpered to herself, in her own little bubble.

“Mom never finished her story,” Tsumiki said. “The least you could all do is be quiet.”

“Megumi almost died…” Itami cried.

Tsumiki sighed, wavering from where she stood. She overexerted herself, she made a gentle reminder to never get involved – but that was rarely true; perhaps that made her just as bad as Toji.

She finally took her seat and allowed herself to mentally recuperate; the memory replaying itself in her mind. They were being petulant, acting out for no reason – Megumi gave them a fright and they were barely able to think with a clear mind. It was as if they were being suffocated by a fog but were sure of one thing; they were glad Megumi was breathing here with them. If Toji hadn’t thought quickly at that moment…

Tsumiki rubbed her forehead, covering her eyes.

To comfort Megumi, albeit terribly, Itami rubbed his shoulder, handing him water and closely monitoring him. “Do you want to go to the hospital?” she asked.

“No,” Megumi grumbled, “I’m fine.” Itami caressed his cheek to take a better look at him and he grabbed her wrist, more uncomfortable than embarrassed. “Stop that,” he said. “I’m not dead.”

“Don’t be stubborn and let your mother see you!” she said, whisper yelling, and grabbed him by the face, inspecting him. Megumi had given up by that point and glared at her with his nose scrunched. He wanted to pull back from her but she was firm. “I’m surprised you’re still alive.” She moved her eyes from him to Toji, who avoided hers.

Megumi’s confusion didn’t last long before he realised; she was talking about Toji’s brute strength – that is a good question; how did he survive that?

He got out of her grasp, rubbing his cheeks. “At least he’s still got a decent bone in him.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Toji said, his posture relaxed, blinking slowly with his hand on his jaw.

“You must be desperate if you thought that was a compliment.”

“I don’t get you both,” intruded Tsumiki, rubbing her eyes with her thumb. “Stop fighting already. I’m done with you all.”

Megumi felt slight surprise by her remark, a bit befuddled. “We weren’t fighting.”

“Whatever it was, I don’t like it,” she continued. “Leave it for later, when you’re both alone.”

Itami cleared her throat. “I’d like to continue.” And she had been waiting, patiently for a few seconds, to get their attention. She had almost instantly forgotten about Megumi’s near death experience in this rare experience to share her own version of a ‘love story’.

“Then hurry up.” Toji crossed his arms. “At your turtle pace, I’d fall asleep before you get to the main part of your story.”

“I’ll get myself something to eat,” Tsumiki mumbles and gets up, moving to the kitchen; she was unwilling to hear this. Megumi wished she’d take him with her.

“I take my time when I speak,” Itami said. “You have to be patient! Practice mindfulness while you’re at it.”

Toji snorted. “I see your buddhism ways are ever prevalent.”

“My grandma was a good teacher,” she snapped.

“Will you also start explaining the five virtues to me?”

“It’s precepts, not virtues…!” Itami was prepared to unleash her fury onto Toji but she instead closed her eyes and took a breath; she wasn’t going to be tempted. She’d calm down before it happened. They had been at odds with each other more and more often. It wasn’t frequent as they had their fair share of lovely moments yet ever since that conference with his teacher, a crack had surged in between them.

Tsumiki came back holding a pocky box. From the exhaustion in Megumi’s eyes, she was glad she left – even if for such little time.

She took another bite before she said, “Can we get back on track? No offence to you, Megumi.”

“None taken.” He’d rather they share stories than dwell on his well-being or have them start bickering with one another once again.

“And get to the point,” added Toji.

Itami peers at Toji and gives up trying to get the last word in. “Okay… Where did I leave off?”

—

It became a natural occurrence for Toji to stay after hours, either scratching lottery tickets or betting with other late customers. Their relationship changed course.

“What’s the number for the next bid winner?”

“Come tomorrow then I’ll tell you.”

She started indulging him in his gambling habits.

—

“You’ve gone too far ahead,” Tsumiki interrupted.

“Be patient,” Itami said.

—

The day she first hung out with the man, she thought he was a degenerate; a lowlife, simpleton. But the longer she talked with him, on that table, scratching lottery tickets, he looked helpless to her. She pitied him and wondered how someone could let their life get to this point. He was still a degenerate but someone she sympathised with. He didn’t say much to her, yet for once, sitting next to the person she so despised and looked down on – she wondered if the assumptions she had on them, her customers, were all wrong.

Itami sighed.

“Finally give up?” he said.

“No…”

He scrutinised her; the attitude of someone who wants you to go away. Itami wouldn’t budge but Toji could be just as stubborn.

“I don’t mind wasting more of your time.” That only means that he gets to do this for longer.

“Did you know that most of the sports you bet on are fixed?”

Toji stopped what he was doing, and at last, he stared at her.

“You’re being scammed out of your money,” she said. “Not all of them are arranged beforehand but some are.”

Toji hummed and went back to scratching. “How drunk are you?”

Oh, yeah, and she was really drunk. Probably why she had the change of heart, she realised.

“Don’t worry, I can handle my drinks.”

“I’m not worried,” Toji corrected. “They’re arranged?”

Itami looked at him dazed for a while before remembering what they were discussing. “You want me to tell you the winning bets? They’re much better than those lottery tickets.”

Toji scoffed. He didn’t consider it for a second. “You’d be putting yourself in danger,” he said. “Would you risk losing your job for a lowlife like me?”

“Using my words against me, huh…” She regretted saying that. “You already know so… there’s no going back for me.”

She watched him as she said, “I know you won’t let the offer pass either.”

He knew what he wanted and he knew that she wasn’t wrong – he didn’t want her to change her mind if he stood quiet any longer.

“I work full-time here so if you came tomorrow I could make it work.” It was as if she was trying to convince him to cheat; she was hoping she hadn’t just f*cked up for him to end up refusing… She hadn’t thought this through at all. What if she seemed desperate?

After not winning anything at all except another hundred yen, he nodded. “You’re right, how could I say no to such a generous offer?”

She wasn’t drunk enough for this.

Itami woke up the next day feeling like a fool and walked begrudgingly to work – the man she promised she’d help never missed a day, but rather days, and he’d come back as usual.

She walked in through the door, slumped and her feet trudging heavily against the floor. They’d have to open soon and she was in charge of preparing the ingredients – which usually never took long as her co-workers would prepare some the night before – but the task seemed especially daunting today.

Once she’d opened the place, the customers came gradually in, first a few, then a regular amount came in to place their bets and watch the show. There was no hint of the man – while she hoped he wouldn’t show his face, a sense of intrigue befell her; she found him deeply entertaining – even if she hadn’t; a promise was a promise.

She really did have troubling tastes in men.

She swept the floors and paused once the man made his appearance, strolling through the doors. He turned side to side, looking for something – someone – and chose a table. He didn’t grab a ticket like one would; she had a role to play, he made that obvious.

If only he wasn’t being so conspicuous…

Itami approached him, clearing her throat. “What’d you like?”

“One Takoyaki,” he said, “and one of your winning bets.”

—

“I’m feeling lost here,” Tsumiki said. “Is this really a love story?”

“Toji hadn’t changed much,” added Megumi. “He still leeches off of you for money.”

Toji sighed loudly and rolled his eyes, shaking his head.

Itami – rather than defending him – pinched the bridge of her nose, and slumped over in defeat; she held herself together as best as she could but a grin formed across her cheeks.

“He was the worst,” she said, “but so was I.” She paused for a while, deep in thought. “We both met each other at the worst time of our lives I’d wager.”

Tsumiki smiled. “That explains why you’re both a good match.”

“You think that’s romantic?” Megumi questioned, his tone sharp.

“It’s not my fault you hate happiness,” she exclaimed. Megumi scoffed and kicked her knee under the table – she let out a yelp and rubbed her knee, feigning innocence.

Itami ignored them and continued. “He began visiting often since.”

—

By the afternoons, she’d find him on the same table or sometimes being co*cky enough to go to the counter and cheat blatantly; he never hid it, never thought of trying as well.

This habit of his went far from just cheating; he wasn’t afraid to do or say what was on his mind; all be damned.

“Kenji–”

“It’s Toji,” he corrected.

Itami, being forced to call him by his right name, said; “Toji… When are you leaving?”

He’s doing it again, staying past their closing time. This would be his third time – she certainly wasn’t going to accept it, and would throw him out if it reached that point.

“I’m keeping you company until you close,” he said. “It’s your job as a waiter to prioritise the comfort of the customer, isn’t that right?”

“Hey…” Itami felt her ears would pop from the incessant lottery ticket scratching – were all the bets he was winning not enough? “You’re trespassing. The authorities would have no problem getting rid of lowlives like you.”

Toji scoffed but didn’t comply and continued scratching the next lottery ticket; she was all talk and soon, she’d find herself right beside him with her tankard in hand.

It’d become routine.

Itami wondered if he was homeless, it would explain why he frequented this establishment – she took pity on him just this once and allowed his company.

She’d get used to the scratching and he’d get used to her complaints before she’d simmer down.

“Don’t get a job like this,” Itami said. She figured she could use someone to complain to; rant her worries and bothers away.

Toji feigned his most interested expression but failed. “Why?” he said, putting another piece of takoyaki into his mouth.

“No one respects you,” she started, “especially my boss… But don’t get me started on those lowlives–”

Toji rolled his eyes and spoke before she got too heated. “Could you make me another one?” He gestured toward his empty plate.

Itami scowled; her answer was clearly a no. “Do you not eat anything other than takoyaki?”

“It’s none of your business what I eat.”

Itami let out a loud groan at his petulant attitude. “I feel bad for your dentist…”

The next days passed by like a blur to Itami; Toji started disappearing again. She wasn’t too worried and found closing nights more appealing; she’d go home sober and rested.

Until he’d come back, that is.

Sitting in their same spot, conversation would ease its way between them. Toji’s takoyaki and Itami’s beer.

“Itami…” he said. “That’s a boy's name.”

“Shaddup! I’d asked you not to make fun of it…” she whimpered, clenching her tankard. Since day one she went with an alias, too ashamed to share her real name since people like him had a tendency to tease her for it.

“It’s not even a name but a surname,” he continued, prodding at her deepest insecurity, and he was enjoying it! “Your name is pronounced the same as the word pain.”

“It’s still my name you’re talking about…”

“It’s horrible.”

“You’re horrible!” she snapped. “You asked me and I told you.”

She shouldn’t have gotten drunk; regret started pouring through her guts.

“Your name is funny too,” she said. “Toji – you’re named after a celebration – the winter solstice’s arrival. It’s the equivalent of an American naming their kid Christmas.”

Toji didn’t respond – Itami assumed she must’ve struck a nerve; he looked much quieter when he wasn’t attacking her. He hummed. “I don’t know what my parents were thinking either.”

“Guess we both had sh*tty parents.”

He raised his glass of water, the ice tinkling. “Cheers to that.”

Itami raised her beer and their glasses clinked.

She took a generous gulp of her beer afterwards and let out an exhilarated sigh. He didn’t take a drink out of his but simply watched her.

After their back-and-forth insults, he’d leave, and around the same time, she’d close up. Either they parted ways in front of the door or he’d leave before she’d notice. His presence livened the place, when he was thought to be intruding, he was now invited; mainly to hear her complaints or somehow end up speaking about himself; when she’d be irritated, she was now invested.

Toji came again after not showing his face for a week, lounging around per usual, waiting for Itami, who was feeling more than restless today. An anxious countenance loomed over her, she’d barely made eye contact with him. She pointed at her boss; the man was right behind the counter overlooking everything and everyone, he was twice as alarmed and kept glancing at Toji from time to time; the man who suddenly started winning many bets and never lost since – and the supply of beer that kept disappearing! His employees were the ones who’d get the repercussions rather than Toji himself – the most he’d get is a slap on the wrist and be asked to never come back again.

Cheating was going to be particularly hard today, but Toji was adamant.

He walked up right to Itami’s counter even after she shook her head and glared at him in warning. “Asshole…” she whispered under her breath, knowing he’d hear it with his godlike ears.

“I’d like to bet on whoever's winning,” he said, unwavering.

What had she expected? Toji wasn’t the type to yield even if it meant she’d lose her job; the one thing she has left to keep herself afloat. Her and Tsumiki.

She crossed her arms. “I’m sorry, sir… I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean,” she said, her voice rough and harsh.

Toji pretended to be aloof. “Did you fall on your head? I’m asking for–”

“Shut up… I heard you the first time, asshole.”

“Great,” he exclaimed, “I’ll be–”

She cut him off again, her cadence harsher. “I’m sorry, I don’t think that’ll be possible.”

The manager was nearby, he was sure to have heard it all… She might as well prepare her resignation letter.

—

“Can we skip to the good part?” said Tsumiki, yawning.

“But this is the good part!” Itami cried; it was like she was talking to a wall – no one seemed to understand the true impact of her story; she wished she could brush off their comments the way Toji could yet she wasn’t as strong-willed. For once, if they’d try to understand…

Megumi, after watching Itami get cut off multiple times, intervened, almost seething; “Can’t you stay quiet?” He wanted this night to be over already; he no longer wanted to hear his parents' love story – it almost irked him, mostly grossed him.

Itami stared at him in awe, eyes sparkling – maybe someone had understood. This was why he was her favourite child, for now, she thought.

“I’ll let you know that I didn’t lose my job,” she said. “Your oldman here was the one who was almost completely banned from the place.”

“Almost? What happened?” inquired Megumi – a first for him.

“He blamed my coworker,” continued Itami, “I never saw her again.”

Megumi thought out loud, “Horrible.”

“But expected,” Tsumiki mumbled, cupping her cheeks, glaring at Toji; he shifted under her gaze; it was just like she could see right through him, her threatening eyes… It was like Megumi’s glare.

“Did you both switch places?” he said. “Why am I always the one at the end of your petty jokes?”

“She was a poor woman – three kids, no husband, and had to manage an entire household on her own,” Itami said. “That should be the least of your concern.”

“I didn’t know her well enough to care.”

Megumi looked at him in disgust. “Can’t get any more heartless than that.”

Itami squeezed her son's shoulder. “Don’t worry, I made sure to give him hell that night,” she said, meaning it in the most reassuring way possible but then hesitated before she continued, “If you still think he’s heartless after I tell you how I fell in love with him then I think there’s no coming back for you two,” Itami said, letting go of him and covering herself tightly with the blanket.

When he registered her words, he turned and found her staring back at him.

Of course she knew better than anyone what happened between them; why he started referring to him as ‘Toji’ rather than ‘oldman’; why they fought. Megumi, at that moment, felt as if something clicked, he understood why she and Toji began bickering more often when they usually wouldn’t. Comforted by the mere fact that she knew and defended him.

And yet, something else bothered him, and it bugged him until he couldn’t avoid it.

She knew of Toji’s past.

But she’d never said anything.

The sudden acceptance to the thought shook him to his core, it barged right in him, Megumi could’ve sworn his whole world began spinning – just like during that time he found out his oldman was a murderer; of killing people just like him; it was a similar feeling – of his world shattering. He swallowed the lump in his throat and avoided both his parents' eyes.

He felt nauseated.

He switched his focus as Tsumiki hummed, eavesdropping on their earlier conversation. “I’m interested…” She was mostly eager to listen to the supposed ‘good part’. Itami sighed.

“So am I,” intruded Toji; he was as unsure as Tsumiki; he was never one to be described as someone with a heart.

Itami cleared her throat. They treated her story in such a high regard, it was a first for her, and she was elated. She wished she could savour this moment as she started; “After he saved my job that’s when something changed, I think.”

“She asked me out,” Toji said. “Drunk, might I add.”

“How did you fall for him?” Megumi asked, insistent. Did she forget what she’d said earlier? She couldn't have thought he would simply forget.

“Even you’re curious!” butted Tsumiki. “One can’t deny their feelings of love – who is it? Who’s the unlucky girl?”

“That’s not it!” Megumi bit back.

“Your oldman gave up his sh*tty life to be with me,” Itami said. “Tsumiki, how romantic is that?”

She squealed, unable to handle the image itself – Toji, giving up gambling, just for her?! “So romantic! Off the charts, even!” Tsumiki turned to face Megumi, she figured he might feel the same; why else would he show interest? But instead shivered when met with his intense energy – typical of him.

Megumi's thoughts were of something else, he was deeply engrossed he hadn’t realised he was making eye contact with Tsumiki – either his mother was referring to his gambling life, or she was referring to that incident. He would’ve forgiven Toji, he understood one's desperation at the end of their wits better than anyone, but he couldn’t. If he did, what would that say about him?

That couldn’t just be the reason for her to stay with him.

“Mom shared her story,” said Tsumiki. “What about you, Toji? Why do you love her?” She smirked.

Toji didn’t even think, the words came right out of him. Mustering up a soft tone, he said, “It’s as your oldwoman said, I would still be living that sh*tty life if it hadn’t been for her.”

Itami tilted her head, her smile widening. “You think you’re so charming?”

“Well, I tried,” he said. “You’re just too hard to please.”

Tsumiki cleared her throat. “This is cute and all but…” She waited for Megumi to finish her sentence but that never happened – he was preoccupied with something else, avoiding eye contact this time.

“We get it,” Itami said, “it’s revolting when we do it.”

“That reminds me…” Toji paused, a huge grin formed. It looked scary rather than comforting; no one knew what he was thinking. “Itami, do you remember what Megumi used to call us?”

Itami thought for a while, she put her finger on her chin. It didn’t take long before she started grinning too – Megumi disregarded his concerns in fear of what they were about to say. He turned to look at Tsumiki for reassurance but she was also grinning! Hers were wider than their parents.

What the hell did he say? And why was he always the one they chose to tease?

“I do remember…” Itami giggled like a witch, eyeing Megumi. “Oh-h-h… Megumi…”

“Stop that!” he yelled. “Say it already and get it over with!”

Toji took that as his cue. “Why don’t you call me Mama, like you used to?” he said.

Megumi’s face flushed, turning into a deep red. “I’ve never called you that before...”

“You don’t remember calling me Dada?” interjected Itami, her giggles came out like snortles.

Megumi snapped his head to face her. “I don’t remember any of that,” he said. “I was a child…”

Tsumiki chimed in. Her smile made him feel uneasy – it had an evil glint to it. “Somewhere along the line, you mistook Toji as your mom and Mom for dad,” she said. “You have to remember…”

Megumi tutted. He couldn’t argue because he could remember – their roles were different from other families; it was only natural he mistook Toji, who spent most of his time at home, as his mother and Itami, who spent most of her time at work, as his father. The confusion lasted until he turned four so there was no reason for them to be bringing it up now – today out of all days.

“Just forget about it already…” he said; as a last resort to stop their foolishness. He had to change the topic – and though he wasn’t a conversationalist, an idea struck him.

“How could we forget about it?” reiterated Itami, sighing heartily; reminiscing memories Megumi doesn’t want her to reminisce.

“The same way you forget to return the books you borrow from the library,” he said. “You still have the book, don’t you?”

Itami gasped and she shuddered once reminded – he got her right where it hurt.

“You haven’t returned it?” said Tsumiki, her focus finally on someone other than Megumi. “Mom… how many fines have you already paid?”

“Tsk-tsk, haven’t you learnt your lesson?” Toji said, shaking his head disapprovingly. (he really wanted to be a part of this).

“Ha!” Itami scoffed. “You say that but weren’t you once kicked out of the library for not shutting up?”

“Because I was too noisy?” Toji said. “It’s not my problem they can’t handle me talking.”

“Talking?” Megumi wanted to laugh. “Your voice could be heard at the other side of the library – I was there.” Unfortunately against his will too. He had to pretend he was unaware of Toji’s presence.

Tsumiki squirmed in her seat, remembering something. “Don’t get me started…” she mumbled, recollecting as she spoke. “I’m never going to go to the library with him ever again since that incident…”

“There are too many incidents,” Itami said, “you have to be specific.” Toji snorted at her comment.

Tsumiki stared at her, shaking her head. Perhaps she was too ashamed to share – Megumi understood that feeling better than anyone and, out of sympathy, said; “You don’t have to say it…” But he realised she was thinking of something else when he saw her countenance. He got serious.

After a long silence, Toji, too, realised with a slight gasp. “I think I finally got it,” he said suddenly. “You both are plotting something against me.”

“Eh?” Itami breathed. “How the hell did you get to that consensus?”

“Look at your kids' faces,” he said, gesturing their direction with his chin.

He wasn’t wrong – they weren’t simply glaring, they were plotting with their eyes; using telepathy to exchange ideas. Itami shivered, holding her blanket tightly. Toji always complained about how devilish they were toward him, she used to laugh about it, thinking it was impossible. Today, she felt quite sorry for him after seeing it herself.

They glanced at Toji, who stared back at them. “Whaddya want, you conniving brats?” he asked with a certain curiosity in mind. He found there was no point trying to avoid or refute any of their claims, knowing how pointless it’ll be – from experience, of course.

“So you say you aren’t bad company at the library,” Tsumiki said.

“I never said, or claimed, to be of good company,” corrected Toji. “What I did say was that library rules are complete and utter bullsh*t.”

“They’re basic codes of conduct,” said Megumi. “It requires a sense of understanding to fulfil them.”

“Hah…” Toji knew he had no refutation to that and looked at Megumi awkwardly, his lips pressed together in a thin line. This was only the beginning. “Really? I wasn’t aware…”

Tsumiki put her hand under her chin, nudging Toji. “Seriously… You’re the worst person to take to the library…”

Toji furrowed his brows, maintaining his temper. “Right…” But he sought the chance to speak her turn when he heard ‘worst person’ and saw Itami, who was preoccupied, her head in the clouds. He catches her off guard when he speaks; “Remind me again who continuously forgets to return their books? The fines… How much were they in total…?” He pretended to think.

“Back to me, huh?” Itami sighed, fury in her tone. “Do I have to remind you the countless times you’ve embarrassed me in front of the librarians? The last time I went, they kicked me out – apparently, they keep records of people who’re banned from the library and we’re one of them because of how disruptive you are!”

“Not because you don’t return the books?” Toji said nonchalantly.

“And because of that!”

“Ah… I didn’t expect you to finally admit it.”

Itami spoke in the heat of the moment and regret instantly drowned her once she realised – and because of Toji at that… How humiliating! He’d never let go of this.

Megumi found himself yawning between their bantering; it was getting late, and he was feeling bored. The sleep even showed in his sister’s eyes, but she seemed to hide it well.

“Toji, one! Mom, zero!” Tsumiki pointed her index finger on her right hand and made a circle on her left.

“Don’t make a game out of this!” Itami started. “You act as if you’re so innocent – I’ll tell you!”

“I’m not the best daughter, am I?” Tsumiki retaliated. She turned away once she saw Itami’s flustered expression, also feeling quite flustered herself for making such a remark – it wasn’t like her at all. Itami backed down, knowing how stingy Tsumiki was once she got into this foul mood.

“About that, Tsumiki…” Itami said, halting. She waited for a response but received none, as her daughter was willing to lend a listening ear. Her face got even redder. Everyone was staring at her and waiting for her to continue. Now wasn’t the best time for her to apologise… Nevertheless, she pulled herself together and stared at her daughter in the eyes earnestly. “I was completely in the wrong for saying that, I’m sorry.” Her voice louder than a whisper but too soft to be loud.

This was her second time being put on the spot and, truly, she despised it. All in one minute!

But when she saw Tsumiki’s elated countenance, the pink in her cheeks and the brightness in her eyes, the need to stay prideful fell alongside it. Being a mother softened her heart – especially when it came to her kids. Still, she avoided smiling; Toji would be a pain in the ass to deal with now.

On cue, as if he could read her thoughts, he said; “Bravo, Itami. Truly impressive; I hadn’t expected an apology out of you.”

But before Itami could bite back, Tsumiki defended her. “I don’t believe it’s something you’re capable of doing.”

Just then Megumi was reminded of something – that phrase hit a little close to home.

“Hear, hear!” Itami said, her tone obnoxiously loud. A sense of accomplishment befalls her; she felt like she won a prize, being on the same side as Tsumiki.

Megumi needed to confront Toji again but he didn’t know how he’d do it or when it would even be. It was nearing midnight and they’d soon part to their own rooms – that’d leave him without any chance at all. He wasn’t one to ask for a private conversation either…

“Do you think you could all stay up for me?” Itami suggested. “My birthday is ending soon…”

Perfect. The problem solved itself. None of his family members were night owls, and seeing Tsumiki’s red eyes, they’d fall asleep before the clock hit twelve. Except for him and Toji, that is – seeing as he had to go through sleepless nights as a jujutsu sorcerer and Toji had a past of sleepless nights himself. All he had to do now was just make sure they don’t stay awake past that simply by doing what he did best – speak about books.

“Speaking of birthdays…” They all turned to him. He had their attention now. (Note that whenever the topic of books came up, Megumi felt a reinvigorating energy flowing through him; it was a look his family were familiar with and dread each time; they all groaned at that moment.)

“Megumi…!” Itami snapped. “Leave these discussions to yourself! I’m not listening to this today.”

“No, you have to listen,” Megumi stated blankly, with a serious expression. “This is important.”

“And you claim my stories are boring…” Tsumiki said, referring to her ‘love’ story.

Itami nodded in sympathy. “You claim mines are too,” she said.

“Alas… I cannot relate,” Toji said sarcastically. “Megumi hasn’t had a turn to speak; give him the stage.” He clapped his hands slowly and methodically.

What's gotten into him so suddenly? Megumi wanted to punch that punchable face.

Toji waited for him to continue, unfortunately for Megumi, but the rest listened unwillingly; their body language was tense and stiff. He sighed and soon the fervid excitement returned – it didn’t show on his face but his eyes and posture.

“Let’s just get this over with…” Tsumiki mumbled.

He felt like he’d forgotten his earlier motive once he began speaking; really, his love for books had a way to distract him and make him forget all his problems. Even if no one listens or truly cares, his passion was too strong – and perhaps this time he came on too hard. The weariness was apparent in Tsumiki and his mother, it hadn’t been longing before they dozed off – Itami forcing herself awake before submitting to sleep soon after.

Perhaps he hadn’t noticed, or had, but he continued to speak. Either to ensure that they wouldn’t wake up and fall deeper into sleep or because of his fervour of books.

But soon even he’d quiet down. He was sure of it – they were deep asleep.

The clock ticked loudly, and it was the only sound between them for minutes. Megumi had what he wanted, the situation was right in front of him but he kept hesitating and halting before the words could come out of him. Toji waited.

Then when all words failed, he glowered, conspicuously, at Toji. He wanted to avoid him, ignore him how he did since that day, but this was his only chance to speak to him, while he still had the strength to confront him and went through all of this trouble too.

As if he could read his mind, the man said; “What’s bothering you?”

Megumi sucked in a breath – his heart was racing, beating inside his eardrums into his brain, and his palms suddenly sweaty. “You’re a murderer, Toji,” he spat.

Toji sighed. “Bringing this up again, Megumi?”

“Admit it,” he snapped; surprised as to how quickly the situation escalated, he’d never expected he could feel such animosity toward a person. “Lying is pointless. You murdered those jujutsu sorcerers.”

It was quiet, no one said a thing except the clock moving to announce midnight. Toji sighed. “I admit it, then. It was all before I had met your mother I say.” Toji finally stared back at him. “Your bastard teacher had me announce it; I wanted you to grow a few inches taller before I told you.”

Megumi nodded. He wasn’t sure if he should feel sad, angry or glad that they finally spoke of it again, that, at least, Toji wasn’t avoiding the topic. “If you had waited longer then I would’ve decided to leave for good.”

Toji hummed. “You think it was a good thing you found out back then?”

“No… It didn’t make sense to me then,” Megumi said. It doesn’t make sense now either. He can tell his oldman has changed. He isn’t perfect, he never was, but he was there. It felt like someone spat on his face when he heard the same person who cared for him was a murderer. “What reason did you have for killing them?”

Toji hesitated. Megumi wanted to know, he wanted to understand. After that meeting with his teacher, he realised he knew nothing about his oldman.

“The Zenin’s scorned anyone without cursed energy,” Toji said slowly, almost unsure of his words. “I’m not sure if you’re aware but I was born without cursed energy. It was like I made the biggest sin by merely existing.” He scoffed. “To prove my worth, I killed sorcerers for a living.”

“You did it out of pride?”

“I did it because of the sense of exhilaration I felt after proving them wrong.” He waited before speaking again. “After a while, I stopped feeling anything after I killed them. It was just business. I was surviving through the money I earned and lost all of it through gambling.”

Megumi clenched his hands together under the table. He didn’t know what to make of this. Toji reminded him of Maki, he was so identical to her. She’d shared what it was like being in the Zenin clan, specifically to Megumi when he’d asked her about it. He wondered what Toji had to do with it, and why he left to begin with. Only after she told him how hellish it was for women and non-sorcerers, how being ignored, neglected, abused was the norm, did he begin to sympathise with his oldman. She said they were disgraced – at the bottom of the hierarchy. How could he not feel any pity?

He ended up lucky. That was because of Toji.

But innocent people died. That was also because of Toji.

“Are you sorry?” he asked. It was a stupid question. He must’ve been a fool if he expected he’d hear an answer that would satisfy him.

“For killing them…?” Toji said. “I’m not sorry about it. I do wish things ended up differently but it was out of my hands.”

Just as Megumi was about to say something, infuriated, Toji shushed him. “It’s my turn to ask,” he said. Megumi scowled at him, but waited. Toji seemed to hesitate again, opening his mouth to close it. “Do you think you’ll be able to forgive me?”

Megumi had to blink his surprise away. Toji asked that? Out of all people? Was he truly remorseful for what he’d done or was he only guilty that Megumi found out? Nevertheless, he never thought he’d see the day in which Toji would have such pitiful countenance... He had to force his jaw shut. “No,” he blurted. “Not completely…”

Toji nodded slowly then smirked at his son. He rested his jaw on his hand.

Megumi glared at him. “I haven’t forgiven you.”

“Not completely…” Toji repeated.

For how serious his son was, Toji ought to stay in his own lane and perhaps even ground himself. Megumi’s answer being open-ended, it could mean many things; either that he was unsure or it meant that he was forgiven; how could he contain his own selfish happiness? He wouldn’t have to bicker with his wife, he would have his son back, Tsumiki wouldn’t have to deal with being in between their fights.

Of course, he and Megumi would continue bickering; that was only natural.

Toji got up from his place to pick up the plates, his mood so jovial he began whistling a tune. It sent chills down Megumi’s spine. He leant on the other side of his seat to make space for Toji to pick up his plate, seemingly irritated, but it didn’t make his oldman waver. He had more he wanted to say – this wasn’t the end of the endless questions he wanted to ask. It seemed like what happened never bothered Toji; for him, he could easily pretend nothing happened, but to Megumi, it meant everything did.

He blinked, feeling a buzz in his head. His surroundings began warping into itself.

Everything was distorted, similar to when he was in his mothers’ room, to when Toji said those words. And his mind raced, more than he could keep up with – questions, questions.

It was only then he made the realisation. He was dreaming.

—

Megumi opened his eyes abruptly, the harsh lights stinging them. He wiped the tears with his finger.

“You’re finally awake.” Ieiri scribbled on her clipboard, perhaps a bunch of nonsense, then clicked her pen and set it on her coat.

Megumi sat up grumpily. His ears ringing from the clock; it almost brought him back. He wanted to ask her to turn it off.

“You certainly look like you’ve had a good sleep. Any dreams? Happy ones despite your sad face?”

“Be quiet,” Megumi retorted, his vocal cords dry and coarse, sounding deeper than they were. He wasn’t in his room. He was familiar enough with the place to know that he was currently in Jujutsu High but nothing more. “What happened to me?”

“You were beat pretty nicely during the exchange event,” she said. “It was difficult getting that poison out of you.” She threw her clipboard on the desk – not needing it anymore. “You look better now…” She inspected him, huffing after affirming so. “I guess my job is done. I’ll be leaving.”

Megumi was about to let her go before he remembered. “Where’s Toji?”

Ieiri stopped walking midway. “Toji…?” she repeated. “Ah-h… You mean your oldman? He’s on his way here.” She then turned and continued walking. “He’s been visiting you everyday around this time. Your oldman is a very interesting person, indeed…” And she left.

He found himself alone at that moment, pondering. His mind went to the dream.t was so apparent that he was dreaming yet it felt real. Perhaps because it had occurred before but it still made him shudder – why’d he have to dream of that of all things? He’d rather forget.

Still, it stuck him as odd that Mr. Gojo never brought it up again. His teacher never told any of the higher-ups about it either; he didn’t have to worry about anyone's funeral, which came as a relief to him. That wasn’t what worried him the most during that time – he knew his teacher wouldn’t tell. He worried most about how he and his oldman would fare afterwards… If they would ever reconcile, or if it would end up being a misunderstanding perhaps.

A knock at the door disturbed him of his thoughts. On the doorway stood the man himself, quite surprised. “Oh? Megumi! You’re finally awake.”

Megumi’s blood turned cold. What’s up with that cheerful tone?

Toji approached him and set the bag he was holding on the table by his bedside. “What’s the matter with you?”

“Nothing,” Megumi said bluntly; furrowing his brows in annoyance.

“You certainly did get some of your mothers temper…” Toji muttered. “Not happy to see me, is that it?”

“What’s that?” Megumi asked, gesturing to the bag. A weak attempt at changing the subject, he notes.

Toji hummed in question and then looked at the bag. “A-h-h… Tsumiki said I should give these to you…”

Then it dawned on Megumi; how long had he been out? What about his mother and Tsumiki? He turned to face his oldman. “Does she know?”

“Worry not,” Toji said. “Only your mother knows. Tsumiki thinks you’re being hospitalised.”

“Hospitalised…?”

“I told her you got the influenza,” Toji said, shrugging. Megumi glared at him and Toji continued; “Did you think she wouldn’t ask after the three days you were gone?”

Three days…? That’s how long he was out for? He clicked his tongue. “Still, I…”

“Time to wrap this up.” Toji clapped his hands. “I’m the one responsible for taking you home.”

“How are you even here?” Megumi asked. It was only questions that filled his mind, and the answers he received weren’t satisfying him.

“I got permission.”

“But how…”

Toji sighed. “Enough, Megumi. I’ll explain on the way.”

Megumi grunted – it wasn’t a pleasant one but it was enough for his oldman. When he got up, his legs almost gave out and he grasped the ledge of the bed in a panic. His legs felt numb after days of not being used. They were extremely stiff. He shook them to get the blood circulating back but the tingles of the numbness only worsened.

Toji turned to him after packing up the bag he placed only a minute ago. “You ready to leave?”

Megumi scowled at him, sweating in pain but it seemed to his oldman that it was in anger, and Toji wondered again what he did wrong.

Once he was able to alleviate the pain, walking side-by-side to Toji, he was comforted by the fact he’d be home at last.