Chapter Text
Good girls, hopeful they'll be and long they will wait.
Don’t say goodbye, you’d told your husband. Please.
And, perhaps understanding it was the last thing he could do for you, he’d kept silent.
You know that you’ll always replay the scene countless times in the years to come, each time thinking of different things you should have said and done.
But all you did was walk away without looking back.
Many times in your life you’ve regretted the things you’ve said without thinking.
But you’ve never regretted the things you’ve said nearly as much as the words you left unspoken.
They say time will mend a broken heart and they are often right. But not where your feelings for your husband are concerned. For months, you just go through the motions of life, distracted and gloomy and of no use to anyone including yourself.
Instead, you throw yourself into caring for your son. Your little blessing, as you’ve taken to calling him, provides a temporary relief from heartache, even though the resemblance to his father is so strong that it hits you like a punch to the gut. It makes you sad, sometimes. You wish that there was more of you in your son.
Megumi is a bright smear of warm limbs and dishevelled black hair, grassy irises. He has a sweet smell of his own, like apples in a bowl. Your arms know by themselves how it feels to hold his small body. At six years old, Megumi is already a bright, inquisitive child, even if he does approach school in a soldierly manner, regarding it as a duty that has to be performed.
The apartment you live in with Megumi is in an older complex and isn’t far from your job at the hospital. Up close, the paint is yellowed and chipped, far away, it’s harder to tell. The building looks soft somehow, as if the entire place is constructed from the same material as a beehive and could be crushed and scattered with one heavy gust of wind or a well-aimed rock. The inside has the same sense of beauty gone to seed: cracked floor tiles, heavily worn banisters, and a chandelier that’s missing so many beads that it’s practically just a ball of lights tied to the ceiling.
“Mom?”
The jangle of keys tells you that your son is home. Wiping your hands clean on your apron, you put the pasta water on to simmer and make fresh noodles before Megumi comes to find you.
“Welcome home, Mimi! How was your day?”
“There’s a man here to see you.”
“Me?”
“Yeah.”
Megumi doesn’t give you any more details, but tugs you into the living room where you see a familiar and unfamiliar face. Even though you’ve distanced yourself from the world of Shamans and Cursed Spirits, you’ve still heard the rumours about him, and the sight of Satoru Gojo makes you nauseated. You throw up a little in your mouth, and then swallow it back.
“Mimi,” You say, amazed that your voice is steady. “Go into your room, and lock the door until I say it’s okay to come out.”
Not that a locked door would be capable of keeping Gojo out, if he was determined to take your son from you.
Your son’s face hardens with a child’s stubbornness. “No.”
“Megumi, please.”
The use of his name pulls Megumi up short. He wavers.
“Will you be okay without me?”
“I’ll be fine.” You try to keep your voice light for Megumi’s sake. You cradle his face in your hands, trying to impart confidence and understanding. “Listen to your Mom, okay?”
“. . . Okay.”
After casting one more doubtful look at you and Gojo, Megumi thankfully leaves. You wait until you hear the lock to his room click shut before whirling around to confront Gojo.
“[ LAST NAME ] [ FIRST NAME ]?”
If he knows you already, that makes it simpler.
“Why are you here, and what do you want?” You drop your voice to a frightened whisper, already feeling the first stirrings of panic in your heart. “I haven’t broken any laws, I haven’t hurt anyone, I’ve just been living with my son, and we haven’t done anything wrong.”
You’ve been so careful to avoid drawing any attention to yourself. You’ve never used your Reverse Cursed Technique in front of any humans – well, in front of any conscious humans, anyway – and you’ve saved them. The critically ill, the elderly, the preemies clinging to life. You’ve also fallen back onto your education at Jujutsu High, teaching Megumi the barest basics about the world he’s been born into; enough that he knows about Curses and Cursed Energy, but not so much that he feels pressured to follow in the footsteps of his parents.
Gojo smiles, faintly. “This is a friendly visit. It’s not for an execution.”
Even after knowing that you’re safe, you still can’t relax. Not when your heart is worrying about the possibility of your son being taken away. It’s a thought that brings a pinching sensation to your throat and hot pressure behind your eyes.
“Then why are you here?” You press.
Silence stretches.
Gojo nods in the direction of Megumi’s room. “He has a Cursed Technique, doesn’t he?”
You don’t answer, simply staring at him with an expression that speaks for yourself.
“He’s going to be sold to the Zenin clan in a few years.”
“What?”
The walls fold in on you. The world spins too fast, with colours too bright for your eyes, sounds too loud in your ears. You feel a sudden fierce need to rush back to Megumi. You want to hug him for a long time, and stroke the dark hair which reminds you so much of your husband’s. Megumi has never seemed so fragile to you, so vulnerable to every kind of harm.
You know, instantly, that your husband must have had a hand in this. “What the hell was he thinking?” You mutter, your stomach twisting with grief and anger and a terrible, awful feeling of betrayal. “Next time he comes here, I’m killing that asshole.”
Gojo looks as though he doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry at your proclamation. “He’s gone.”
Abruptly, all the anger drains out of you. Your mind shoots to the last moment you’d seen your husband. You’d been quiet but irritable, watching him walk to the door, dressed in jeans and an oversized sweater. There were a few meaningless remarks, before you’d caved and asked him to stay.
He hadn’t.
And now, he’s gone somewhere where you can’t follow.
All your wishes evaporate, leaving you empty and helpless. You’d thought for a moment, just a tiny moment, that he would be coming back for you and Megumi, telling you he’d been wrong to leave, and that the three of you would find a way to make it because nothing was worth being apart from one other.
Gojo touches your arm, and you flinch. “I’m sorry.”
Shock is a merciful condition. It allows you to get through disaster with a necessary distance between you and your feelings, so that you can get things done. The first thing you have to do is press Gojo for more details.
“Why are you here?” You ask again instead. You aren’t crying; your emotions are still suspended in ice. “Did the Zenin clan ask you to collect Megumi? Or did the [ LAST NAME ] clan put you up to this?”
Every instinct says to run out the front door and keep going. Estranged from the clan though you might be, since your mother had eloped with a completely ordinary mortal of all people, you have no doubt of the lengths the various clans would go to to acquire you and Megumi, who have been blessed with rare Cursed Techniques. A lifetime of running, and it’s still not enough to escape their influence. Six short years of peace with your son, and now you might have to give him up. You don’t think it’s possible for your heart to break anymore, but it does.
“Neither.” Gojo shakes his head at you. “He told me about you and Megumi.”
You pause. Surprise and disbelief flash across your face. You can’t imagine your normally tight-lipped husband doing anything of the sort. “What?”
“Before he died, he told me about you and Megumi. So I tracked you both down.” Gojo holds eye contact with you.
“And?”
“He doesn’t want to go.”
“What?”
“He asked if you would be happy in the Zenin clan. He refused to go unless you were. Should’ve seen the face he made when I told him you wouldn’t be happy there.” Gojo shrugs, as though he’s just told you that it would rain tomorrow. “So, I told him that I’d take care of it.”
“I –” The room spins. You’re still unable to comprehend this one single fact, that your son loves you and wants to stay with you. You’ve always considered yourself to be terribly inadequate, a failure as a parent. You and Megumi live on next to nothing, have to shop at consignment shops, and in spite of all that, even with the promise of a better life dangling tantalizingly within his reach, Megumi still wants to stay with you. “Thank you. So, what do you want in return?”
A slow smile breaks across his face, like the sunrise. “Actually, I have a question for you.”
And there’s the catch. You close your eyes. “What is it?”
“Do you want to become a Shaman again?”
Your eyes fly open. Your expression closes and darkens. “Are you serious?”
“Why not? You’ve been trained. You have a licence.” His smile widens. “We could use someone like you. Labour shortage and all that, you know.”
You do know.
You lick your lips and swallow. “I have some conditions.”