#𝟬𝟓 breathe in deep . stop holding your breath .

[drippingheart]

Suguru would be that person to stop interacting with someone on a dating website if they used improper grammar.

[drippingheart]

THE BIRTHDAY .

A hundred times priors, a thousand times prior, onyx hairs were meticulously combed through until strands were forced into obedience; not a single hair stood out of place or threatened to swell with the winter's humidity. With all the care demonstrated, tendrils longer than that of his chin were gathered in a practiced swoop and pinned in a tight bun. Thousands of times the act repeated. Just one last time — Getō Suguru studied his appearance in the length wise mirror propped against the room of his dormitory and found his figured bathed in black suitable for the day.

With what little money he had to his name, Suguru gathered, perhaps egotistically so, that he could make decade old gym shorts appear flattering. Phone, keys, and wallet were gathered from the neat stand adjacent to the door and shoved into the oversized pockets of his joggers. He moved quiet as a feline . . without directly intending to however. Dormitory door was shut and locked behind him, and at the exit of the bunkhouse slippers were traded for outdoor shoes. T

Thoroughly abused shoes, wrinkled at the toe and heel end from excessive use, were toed on with muscle memory. Bangs which hung freely with minds of her own, too, were tucked behind his ear with muscle memory despite them always falling out place seconds later. Not two seconds after harshly grinding his heel into place of his right foot, Gojo Satoru's door slammed opened and lips were comically shaped in 'o' fashion when curiosity hit.

❛ Where are you heading to looking like you're about to audition to the newest breakthrough band? ❜

Contrasting the ivory haired teen's energetic interest, bright as freshly bloomed flowers, Suguru's expression resembled dried foliage . . not harsh not displeased, more akin to boredom than anything else. He blinked slowly like a cat stretched out in the sun and pressed his palm against the door.

── ❛ Downtown. I have things planned. ❜

Tone mirrored the languid blink as if Suguru's attire was not sign enough of his intentions. He only looked a few degrees better, more composed and actually flaunting some jewelry, than his typical leisure self, so it did not surprise him when Satoru's giddiness amplified. Socked feet hit the wooden floors with as much gentility as a barbarian's approach. and the ivory haired teen reached certain conclusions.

❛ Hot date, huh? You haven't been in Tokyo long, and you're already looking to be a heart breaker. ❜

Before the idiot could go on about whether Suguru was a player or a clingy boyfriend, a heavy and bored sigh sat like murky clouds over the radiance of his classmate.

── ❛ No. It's my Birthday. I always do something for my birthday. ❜

Because no one bothered doing anything for me — memories kept locked in his brain, not for lips to usher. Palm slid from the door down to handle. If the exchange continued to drag on, Suguru held no qualms leaving his classmate behind, mid conversation and all. A mix of emotions dominated, disssipated, and transformed across Satoru's face, shock most notably. The onyx haired teen expected to be displeased with an onslaught of overbearing and, frankly, faux comradery from the kid who seemed to shit out rainbows. Instead . . Satoru marched a few doors down and slammed his fist twice against the door belonging to Ieri Shōko.

❛ Oi, Shōko, it's Suguru's birthday. Let's go out and celebrate. ❜

Suguru didn't know what pissed him off more: his classmate's level tone of voice, the fact he was already on a first name basis, or that his plans were being actively corrupted. No response was emitted from Shōko's room, however the distinct sound of rustling and something falling to the ground with a thud gave way to the life inside.

── ❛ W-wait. Hold on! I never invited you! ❜

The teenage girl opened the door and peeked out half her body; she looked as dressed and as neutral as though she had been expecting the entire affair. Even more feline in mannerisms, her gaze moved from the stressed Suguru to the expectant Satoru before nodding her head and returning into her bedroom.

❛ Hold on, hold on. Let me get my things. ❜

All Suguru could do was groan. Thick tendrils of ebony hair were smushed against his face after he raised both palms to press against his face. Satoru all but snickered like an overly pleased six year old before he darted into his own room like a marathon runner. It was amusing how languidly Shoko moved to prepare herself meanwhile the ivory haired teen eventually emerged with heavy breath from the exertion of rummaging through his closet and switching his entire attire. The trio ended up staying well past curfew and remiss to bring the night to a conclusion.

Far away look was wrangled with the waving of a feminine hand in front of his face. Had he been smiling? Why would he have been smiling? Sugilite eyes landed on the pouting face of Mimiko and adjacent to her, Nanako swiped her finger across the creamy peak of yellow frosting on her slice of cake.

❛ What were you thinking about? You stopped answering. . ❜

The child's worries were wiped clean with a tender touch to her cheek. All warmth and love as it should have been. The smile which followed the pout could have brought rains to parched lands, and Suguru's eyes narrowed to happy crescents at the infectious adoration.

── ❛ It was nothing. Just remembered a thing or two. ❜

[drippingheart]

Megumi does not wish and does not pray. He's not entirely sure what happens after death, believing it's likely nothing, yet he a tiny part of him wants to reunite with his mother in whatever afterlife there may be.

[drippingheart]

CHARACTER HEADCANON GENERATOR .

one , Megumi has a pet hamster.

Oh, how he would love that! Megumi has never had "pets" beside the stray animals he has taken care of; all of these animals either remained living outside or temporarily lived with him and his sister. Unless someone gives him a hamster, Megumi does not like pet stores in general as he finds them ethically wrong and would never purchase an animal from them.

two , Megumi is a theatre kid.

Megumi has no clue what this even means, thus is it incorrect.

three , Megumi is a cry baby.

Megumi can count the times he has cried with one hand, so no, he is not and never has been prone to cry. Even as a baby, he was rather docile and quiet, more inclined to laugh than to cry.

four , Megumi is the gay cousin.

Most likely yes, but no one knows of this.

five , Megumi is a great artist.

Dreadfully and comically incorrect. Actually, Megumi would love be a great artist, but his artistic skills have not evolved from when he was a toddler. No matter how much he tries ( and he does ) he can only draw little scribbles and stick figures.

one , If Suguru likes someone, he will give them a pretty rock.

Incorrect, but he may give them a pretty something that rhymes with rock. Ahem.

two , Suguru has punched a hole in their wall.

No, he has never done that nor would he ever. He has never experienced uncontrollable fits of rage; he's always been more inclined to be frustrated or depressed over angry enough for such violence. Furthermore, his parents likely would have slapped him until his face was raw if he ever destroyed their property. Even as an adult, he would never release his anger in such an impulsive ways. He has other targets to release his anger on if appropriate.

three, Suguru is in your house.

If he's in your home, RUN.

four , Suguru is a sleepwalker.

Incorrect. He does, however, talk in his sleep quite a bit.

five , Suguru has a diary that they write in with a glittery gel pen.

He has never had a diary nor has he owned a glitter pen, yet he has bought plenty of such pens for his daughters and could see the appeal if he was an ordinary human.

blessed by : @godtorne :>

cursing : @thehonoredwon @limitlessscion @prudenze @strywoven

[drippingheart]

Megumi is the kind of person to hold conversations with animals in his normal speaking voice, but also attempt to converse with specific species of animals with his attempt at their language, such as: going ekekek for cats, barking in low tones for dogs, and trying to mimic bird chirping. The latter is never done in front of people he knows; strangers may find themselves fortunate enough cursed to overhear it.

[drippingheart]

CURSED ENERGY .

I believe there is a visual, olfactory ( the weakest, not perceptible to some, perhaps merely perception instead of reality ), and tactical component. The tactical component is more akin to a sixth sense / instinct / gut feeling — feeling when a sorcerer is nearby by their signature cursed energy just like being able to perceive a curse's presence in the surrounding area. Scientifically, without delving too much into physics, it would simple be waves of energy perceptible to only some like heat waves.

Since I've had this sitting in my drafts for literal months and finally conjured something tangible on my other blog, I'll be copying most of the information from over there. Ultimately cursed energy boils down to fact, perception, and control. The stronger the sorcerer and the curse is, the greater their perceptible energy is, and the more skilled ( not necessarily strong ) a sorcerer is, the easier it is to mask their cursed energy / residuals. I also see cursed energy how one might define an aura — it has different colours, evokes different feelings, and maybe has a smell. Beside masking, this is innate, and neither sorcerer nor curse can change the base characteristics.

When it comes to the matter of perception, only sorcerers who are emotionally close to one another can perceive the other's scent attribute, but it begs the question . . is this a real thing ( scientific in terms of jujutsu sorcery ) or simply the machinations of a swayed heart. I don't know why I am adding layers to this lore, but I am. With perception, while all sorcerers and curses can perceive each other's energies, it takes strength to perceive the vast dimensions / complexity of another's energy. For example, even an untrained sorcerer can see The King of Curse's energy, but only those skilled and strong, such as Gojō Satoru can, see it for what it actually is.

My last point regarding perception ( for now ) — there is solid jujutsu science to cursed energy, such as his being red, but it's more than the science. Like the whole thing with scent, the density of the energy is totally based on perception. It's logical to think that all who are opposed to Sukuna would see thick and menacing clouds and tendrils of energy because of the fear and hate he evokes. For enemies of Getō Suguru, they would also perceive his aura as menacing, however Suguru's energy would not be perceived this way for Satoru. It may come off as strong and dominant but not menacing or evil.

When it comes to Getō Suguru, there are three layers to the physical appearance of his signature energy. At the most basic level, for people such as grade 4 and three sorcerers, Suguru's energy would be perceived as black swirls. At the next level, one would realize that it is not black but actually dark brown. The next level of perception would reveal gradients of subtle, dark browns. The highest level would reveal speckles of black in the darkest areas of the gradient. These colours and swirls are not static; the colours themselves shift around inside the swirls, and the swirls move in languid movements like fog rolling on hard ground. As for smell, this is highly dependent on the sorcerer perceiving Suguru as explained above. In the most general of terms, the smell of his signature energy / aura is subtle and bitter and could evoke a feeling of warmth / being warm. One could equate this bitterness as richness instead, similar to that of ground coffee beans. This bitterness is not sharp nor is it strong, however ( how many times must I write perception! ), an enemy of his could perceive it as unpleasantly bitter and strong. Important note, Suguru does not drink coffee, so the smell would not be something that is factually and physically attached to his body.

As for Fushiguro Megumi , one would perceive black signature energy at its most basic level. At the following level of heightened perception, how truly black his energy is and entirely void of light would become apparent. Likely it would be the darkest thing a curse or sorcerer would ever be able to view short of being able to look into an actual black hole. Following that comes dimension and a strange sensation of texture. There is no doubt his signature energy is blacker than black, yet it seems to almost shimmer like specks of melanite in a pit of tar. On the same vein of a textural component, one would feel as though they would be touching tar if they had contact with Megumi's cursed energy. It is not subtle; in fact, it's more intimidating than anything else. This adds to the grumpy and serious impression people get when interacting with Megumi. As for smell, it is incredibly unlikely anyone would be able to associate any smells, however . . it is possible for one to smell cold. Not a cold person, not a cold city, nor cold nature, just cold. Like your nose being assaulted by how cold it is outside that it cancels out any other olfactory stimuli.

Also with the actual tactical components outside the realm of energy waves, I am thinking a sorcerer with visual impairments or an ability related to physical touch / manipulation of all cursed energy could possibly feel these auras as sensations of wet, dry, thin, thick, etc.

[drippingheart]

Megumi is very dull when it comes to personal belongings, but if someone gifted him any sort of item with a paw print or paw print shaped, he would be quite pleased. He wouldn't show it expression wise, but watch him use / wear the item regularly.

[drippingheart]

TO BE FULL.

❛ All of this . . All of this is for us? ❜ Fushiguro Tsumiki voiced the incredulity which filled both children's minds like fireworks breaking out in the sky during a summer festival. Awe-inspiring and even frightening. Apparently, when Gojō Satoru had informed the brother and sister that yes, they were free to order anything they wanted to eat, he was not exaggerating in the slightest. The freedom of wealth could be imagined, could be witnessed in scenes out of a television show or manga panels, but to actually be a part of it in the real life was stupefying.

The restaurant was filled, pleasantly, with the hum of conversation and utensils hitting plates, yet things were strangely boisterous and void of all thought simultaneously inside Fushiguro Megumi's mind. He had never experienced such a queer sensation before. There had been anger, melancholy, frustration, numbness, but he had never been shocked in such a way before. All the times the children had fallen asleep with hungry bellies . . all the times they had thanked their granny a hundred times over after receiving a rice cooker pot filled to the brim — and this is how people with money ate on a regular? on a daily basis?

Tsumiki squeezed her brother's hand beneath the table as if silently telling him, this is real; we better eat up. All of those nights and days with hunger pains could have made him cry, but Megumi did not cry. Crying never changed anything. The defeaning fog cleared from his mind, and eyes typically resembling stones finally looked like that of a child as they peered over at his sister, to the food, and then to the ever watchful ivory-haired sorcerer.

Megumi swallowed thickly as he forced his gaze back to the various dishes of pickled and grilled vegetables, bowls of rice, smoked fishes, grilled clams, bowls of noodles and rice. The entire table of theirs was covered, and the children could have rationed everything out for near a month. He had been informed that Satoru was wealthy, yet one thing was hearing the words and another thing was witnessing how the fortunate and the wealthy lived. Had he not been so twisted with shock, he would have felt a little resentful. Tsumiki, being the polite and sociable child, released her brothers hand in favour of the chopsticks. She did not want to insult such a precious gift.

❛ Itadakimasu, ❜ She bowed her head, smiled bright, and began digging in rather politely considering her eyes were wider than the serving plates. In between trying every piece of protein, vegetable, and carbohydrate, she piled on pieces onto her brother's bowl of rice. When he still did not eat, the little girl nudged her brother's foot. It's as if she thought, if we come off as rude, he'll never do this again. Poor children had to take advantage while they could. Finally, little Megumi picked up his own set of chopsticks, bowed his head, and released a neutral ❛ Itadakimasu. ❜.

He'd seen images of eel, mackerel, and fatty tuna in animes and on street signs advertising a restaurant's menu, but he had never eaten it . . as far as memory served. He skipped the vegetables entirely ( they already ate plenty of those ) and dug into the protein Tsumiki served him before moving onto the other grilled and smoked fishes and mollusks. While he had started gradual, polite, and unsure, soon enough his cheeks were inflated like that of a squirrel as he stuffed everything into his mouth.

Tsumiki was well-mannered, but it was only a matter of time before she was eagerly going for seconds, thirds, and fourths. They were ravenous. They were malnourished. Everything was so splendidly delicious that Megumi could have cried, but he did not cry. Only after a while ( after nearly choking ) did the little boy slow down to gaze at the wealthy sorcerer. Embarrassed, he wiped the grease from his lips with the back of his hand and whispered, ❛ Thank you. . ❜.

He meant it.

[drippingheart]

ALL I REMEMBER IS HIS SILHOUETTE.

Fushiguro Megumi does not have a father. He had a mother, and she was a beautiful person ( as beautiful as a longing boy's mind conjures ); he remembers her warmth, and the distant, fleeting sensation of being loved. A man, simply, impregnated his mother, took advantage of her, and certainly broke several promises . . for her memory and possessions were buried along with her. A decent man with the slightest semblance of empathy and love would have left her child with words and items to keep her memory alive. Megumi doesn't know with any certainty — it's purely speculation and desperation, but he "knows" that his mother loved him, otherwise she would not have brought him into existence.

She wanted him, she wanted him, she intended to love her baby, and some shameless crook stole her existence. Not knowing whether the man lived or died, whether his mother had any living relatives, they alone held the precious gemstones that was her name, her appearance, her laugh. Megumi was left with nothing but imagination and grief. He loved his mother and would never lie when pressed with the question if the absence of her presence in his life brought him great melancholy. He did not and could not love a person who turned their back to a toddler.

It was the only thing he remembered of that man. A retreating figure growing smaller and smaller in the distance, eventually swallowed by the light of the day while his own flesh and blood was discarded in the shadows of a dingy apartment. Gojō Satoru is not his father and neither was that man. Deep down, does Megumi wish for a mother figure to nurture his and his sister's hearts with affection? Certainly, although he would never admit it aloud. Does he wish for a father? The very title summons the taste of bile to the back of his mouth.

Mothers love and father figures disappoint.

[drippingheart]

THE COMPANY OF ANIMALS .

Where traditional culture and the heart of technology clash, quiet and peace are not commodities to be attained. Loneliness however, is as prominent as shadows. Tokyo — a city of noise and air pollution, tin can housing, and needing hearts desiring to connect with anyone. Anything. While Fushiguro Megumi never considered himself to be lonely, he was capable of relating to the feeling of longing. At seven years of age, recognition of blank and pallid stares on the railway was an intimate thing — just as when eyes caught sight of desperation gushing through veins as a high school boy reached out to grasp the hand of a female classmate.

Megumi knew too much as a child. Certainly not the fragile intricacies of human relationships and deep desire, yet it was enough information which enabled him to judge in silence. The city was already overflowing with people, and had it been the boy's choice, he and Tsumiki would be the sole occupants of the city. Wanting another person was a foreign sensation and, frankly, off putting, however yearning the company of something Megumi completely understood.

When stray cats gathered in alleyways, when the honking of taxi cabs disturbed pigeons from the metropolitan perches, even when moths cluttered around a single source of light when sky was pitch . . . he felt that instinctual pull to be part of an animal's life and for they to be a part of his life. Features of a little boy scrunched up in equal disgust when spotting rare displays of affection in public and when being in the receiving end of cute nicknames and head patting from a certain ivory-haired sorcerer.

Happiness, the closest the child could assume he was capable of feeling, bloomed when a dog wagged its tail in his presence. If his crazed guardian actually wanted to do something nice ( ie something Megumi would genuinely appreciate ) why couldn't it be in the form of a pet? Having been begrudgingly fed, clothed, and sheltered by the man, the child surmised he had already been deemed fortunate enough. Megumi was not a selfish child; he would trade being in Gojo Satoru's care for a living cat or dog. With no such thing waiting to be unwrapped for Birthday, Children's Day, or Christmas, he felt compelled to take matters into his own hands.

At seven years of age, Fushiguro Megumi walked with solemn confidence half an hour away from home; it was no difficult feat having traveled much the same as soon as he gained independence to walk alone. The stray cats watched him pass; they knew him well. Megumi counted sixteen on the route and like muscle memory, internally called out each feline's name. Names which Megumi had thought of the first time he met a new cat and memorized it to heart. Lacking any treats to offer the small beasts, he was not compelled to linger any longer than necessary during his trek, and the animals were thankful for that, too.

Megumi did not like picking favourites. The very notion of it felt almost like a betrayal. Every species was unique in their own way, and he was not fortunate enough to encounter every species of animal to even consider having a favourite, so how could be possibly pick just one? He had touched a fair amount of mammals ( of course not enough to satiate his love ), thus was absolutely resolute in touching those creatures which easily took to the skies. Reveling in their freedom. A longing for such freedom was also nestled within the child's heart. Often when one was looking for pigeons in Tokyo it seemed the abundant creature was nowhere to be spotted.

Had old man Tanaka not arrived to feed the animals that afternoon? A surlier pout settled heavy on the boy's face once he stepped foot in the park void of his winged companions. Still, he made the trip and had been painfully determined to make progress today. Feet dragged with iron weight as he maneuvered through the park. His guardian had six eyes and Megumi had a sixth sense, it seemed. Gravitating towards a particular spot, it quickly became apparent why no pigeons littered the ground in the hundreds. Unlike a corvid's loyalty, a single injured pigeon sat in a mess of its own feathers. Speckles of dark crimson stained the concrete, but the amount of blood was not innately alarming.

There was hope. No one had stopped to help. No other pigeons were around. Lonely — how tragic. Megumi still harbored healing scratches from his altercations with the cats he visited, so he knew well about stress and what it did for wild animals. The child approached with tremendous care. Despite the gentility, the pigeon still fluttered uselessly when he approached too closely, but an injured wing made for futile attempts at escape. Zippered jacket was removed and used to cradle the bird carefully with wings tucked, palms nestling wings to torso, and the sleeve of jacket covering the animal's face. Reduce visual and auditory stressors; he had learned that from a video.

Tiny thing was pressed securely against his torso, still within the jacket, as he made the trip back home. One hand was used to keep the pigeon secure against his body as he punched in the code of the front door and entered with the care of an undercover operative. Shoes were toed off at the threshold of the apartment, but before he had the time to slip on his own set of blue house slippers, he was there. Didn't he have Jujutsu work to attend to? Unconsciously, he bundle of injured animal was tucked closer to his torso and emerald hues cut even more sharply. Six eyes and all could sense something was amiss, yet the famed sorcerer approached with a bright grin nonetheless. Perhaps more so at the evidence of Megumi's behaviour.

" Don't tell me. My little Megumi-chan got in a little tussle with a kitty, mm? What 'cha got there? "

Just shy of two metres, the ivory haired sorcerer towered over the child and peeked a startling ominous eye over the rim of dark sunglasses. There was no point hiding anything from the man. Could he see through the material of the jacket? Megumi did not precisely know the limits of the six eyes. Instead, the child's lips curled with distaste as an equally sour huff left him.

── ❛ That was last week. ❜

Hesitantly, Megumi peeled back the flap and sleeve of the jacket, and the visual stimulus prompted the bird to blink and whip its head around. Gojo's lips peeled backwards further, but the child's eyes were too focused on the sight of the injured bird to notice. In contrast to how he petulantly spoke to his guardian, he kept his voice low. For the sake of the pigeon and for the sake of the favour at hand.

── ❛ Can we please help it? . . Please? I don't want it to die. ❜

Pointer finger tip gently nudged the tiny feathers situated at the back of the pigeon's head. Gemstone eyes still captivated at the sight of the animal. The adult straightened up his posture as a " Oh, Megumi. You have such a soft heart. " Reached Megumi's ears. It wasn't a no however, and a gentle hand landing on the child's shoulder encouraged he and the pigeon to enter the depths of the apartment.

[drippingheart]

Are they registered to any social media?

When personal computers increased in popularity and ease of use, Suguru was all for exploring all aspects of the internet and did participate in instant messaging and social media; myspace was the first official social media site he used, by definition. After maddening thoughts took hold and following his defection, he did not use social media as he held no interest in connecting with common humans. A phone was retained strictly for communicating with his daughters and the rest of his family members when necessary. As for Megumi, he's definitely slow to the uptake when it comes to social media platforms. He does use IG strictly for animal related content be it from wildlife photographers or zoos. I do feel like it would be a join effort between Yuuji and Nobara to get him to use other social media platforms.

How often do they log in?

When Suguru used social media, he got pretty addicted to it considering he was extremely social and curious about other people. However missions, studies, and antiquated technology prevented him from logging on as much as he would have liked, so . . perhaps once a week or less. Megumi only checks his when he's extremely bored, making a point of ignoring Satoru, or wanting to check up on interesting animal stories, so . . several times a week.

How many followers do they have?

Suguru had hundreds of online friends from all across the globe. Megumi has only two — Yuuji and Nobara.

Do they follow a lot of people?

The aforementioned will answer this for Suguru. Megumi follows a handful of people: wildlife photographers, Yuuji, and Nobara. Believe me, they pulled his arm for that follow back. He follows more organizations than actual people such as rescue organizations, international zoos, and non-profits dedicated to conservation.

How easy is it for them to block someone online?

Without going into too much detail for either of them — yes; the feature exists for a reason.

What do they tend to post online ( art, videos, just starting fights online... )?

Suguru was an open book about everything except his sorcery life, naturally. He posted a lot of pictures of himself ( no shame ) and just made conversational posts about travel, teenage struggles, video games, history, anything really. He also posted a lot of things on forums regarding being gay, but these posts were always made anonymously. He never fought with anyone. Megumi does not converse with other people on social media nor has he posted a single thing; his profile is blank and private.

Did they ever get in an online fight?

Neither of them did.

Do you think they'd have callouts about them?

Ahah, no, unless sorcerery drama regarding Suguru ever hit the internet.

brought to fruition by @cderiva

[drippingheart]

THE DEATH OF ITADORI YUUJI .

A calm preceded the storm just as calm was found following a storm. It was calm, disgustingly so. It prompted the boiling of blood until he was left feeling scorched while simultaneously turning all nerves into shivering waters — leaving him in the throes of rage and melancholy that was ultimately mourning. That was the trademark of the jujutsu world, not only that but of life. Non-sorcerers were at least provided the decency of normal grieving periods and funeral traditions; sorcerers were awarded no such common decency beside that which they chased in their minds. The higher ups must have been delighted and Gojō . . who truly knew what the gifted man believed; a man composed of more mystery and fake smiles than plain truths.

It was bitterness holding the taste of bile which prompted him to believe the ivory haired sorcerer discovered some degree of delight in the news, for it had been Fushiguro Megumi and Megumi alone who vouched for the life of the burdened teenager. All it took was brief interactions and distant observation to see the worth in Itadori Yuuji's life, a tremendous, seemingly impossible feat considering the common theme of death and sacrifice in Megumi's life. Even as a child, a younger child, he knew people were doomed to die, to suffer, and leave behind those they loved.

Megumi had anticipated his eventual demise with no strong feelings on the matter just as he prepared for the normality of losing his classmates and sensei. Jujutsu sorcerers did not have happy lives, yet suddenly . . he wanted it for Yuuji, and in part also wished it upon himself — for Yuuji's survival and Megumi's happiness were directly corelated. He cared when he should not have knowing . . knowing . . it would end with the salty taste of tears infiltrating his mouth. Megumi was the one who vouched for keeping Yuuji alive, and his punishment was witnessing the dripping heart being ripped from his friend's body.

That should teach him, teach a jujutsu sorcerer to care, the universe mocked him.

Yes, it was Megumi's divine punishment; he failed to secure Sukuna's finger, his pathetic weakness forced Yuuji to swallow the finger, and again he failed as a sorcerer when he proved incapable of defeating or even tricking Sukuna. Would it have been less cruel to allow the execution of Itadori Yuuji from the very beginning? It would have been a heartless move, but now it was his heart which was crying and suffering. Sukuna had ripped his heart out as well. To be normal. To be openly angry and distraught. But Megumi could only mourn in the way appropriate for sorcerers, in the shadows where he ripped himself apart.

How did his shikigami feel, if they even felt anything beside the anthropomorphic characteristics he bestowed upon them? He imagined he did feel like them — a pure mass of energy adrift, barely floating. When anyone bothered asking him if he was fine ( what a hideous word ), Megumi would always respond, ❛ I always am ❜. He was not. He was not fine. He was mourning his friend and had to do it in the shadows as if it was a thing of shame. I'm sorry, Itadori. I'm sorry. Gojō continued to smile and lecture in his insufferable sing-song voice, training continued, and life moved on. Right? . . . Right?

The Goodwill event was around the corner.

[drippingheart]

Unease developed in an instant — Raised hairs and the coiling of guts even before making eye contact with a single, humongous eye. It was the wet, sloppy noises which grabbed attention initially. Unsettling even by sound, the sight which accompanied the offensive auditory stimuli was worse than what imagination could have conjured. The creature's eye dominated its entire body, making up two thirds of, and, queerly, it settled on a ranid-like body. It would have been comical., perhaps endearing had the creature remained in the pages of a manga or the film of a children's movie.

Slimy, sickly, and covered in warts . . the abnormality of its existence was a horrendous thing alone, then there was the noise. Tongue three meters in length lapped at the all-staring eye, and droplets of spit ( if it actually was spit ) smacked Getō Suguru at his forehead and on the tip of his nose. Any other person, a normal person, would have believed themselves plunging into a dark pool of insanity, yet Suguru was struck with frightening clarity. He was not insane.

All the invertebrate and ape appearing creatures he had seen skittering about in the shadowed corners of bathhouses, convenience stores, and public bathrooms were not figments of a troubled child's mind after all. Had Suguru not been wrapped with the ice of fright, he would have howled in relief. Relief for being mad. Dread for seeing what no one else saw. It took a moment too long for Suguru, at the age of six, to feel the sizzle of his flesh. Hot like scalding water, hot like a sudden sunburn, hot like . . corrosive poison.

He looked a corpse the way his onyx hair contrasted the pallor of his petrified flesh, and the child did the only thing he could. Suguru ran. He ran and ran as the ranid-like creature continued to wet its eye and watch unmoving. He didn't even bother kicking off his outdoor shoes at the threshold of his family home's front door and ignored his father's annoyed grunts as he rushed to the nearest toilet. There it was in the reflection. A traumatized child, and the raw, slightly bubbled flesh marring his forehead and nose.

It was real. They were all real.

blessed by @shlnlgamls

[drippingheart]

TIRED . contains chp. 251 spoilers

An outsider within his own body. Eyes wide open, pried open — fleshy lids severed despite the feeling of their intactness as bodies after bodies fell at Sukuna's hands . . at Fushiguro Megumi's hands. Itadori Yuuji, with his attempts to keep the darkness that was the king at bay, did not divulge the sensations experienced, or lack thereof, when he lied dormant for the sake of Sukuna's dominance. True to all aspects of life, only when it was too late did regrets surge through mind. Megumi drowned in his regrets.

A regret that was sticky, viscous, and crimson . . even when it entered mouth and filled his lungs, the teenager was still conscious and aware. Was the blood inside the purgatory of his body conjured by Sukuna's cruelty, or was it the blood of all of his their victims? If the latter, then it was Tsumiki's blood he was gagging on . . and that of his benefactor, Satoru Gojō. How many more? How many more lives?

Megumi was tired. He was tired.

Tiredtiredtiredtired!

Everything. Every single decision Megumi made in his life had been for Tsumiki, either to keep her safe or motivated by her lecturing fortitude. Megumi's own moral compass be damned; all of it had been for nothing in the end. Any semblance of family obliterated and murdered in a world that demanded blood, sacrifice, and death. It was Megumi's time then, and he was ready. It's a disgusting sucker punch that his fight could be crushed as easily as a trinket, a shattered snowglobe reflecting memories, beyond repair. No worse than the agony he felt, and he wanted it be over.

His mother, presumably his father, his sister, his benefactor. The line needed to end, and they all would be memories for years and years . . years until there was no one left to remember them and their intricacies. No one was left to remember how Tsumiki's eyes glimmered with equal respect and adoration whenever Satoru visited them as children. No one was left to remember how Megumi as a child of three would repeatedly draw pictures of his father's back, the thing he remembered most clearly about the man. Megumi quietly marveling at the first pair of new shoes he received on behalf of Satoru. Satoru watching Tsumiki as she constructed a series of snowmen depicting all three of them the day after a ferocious snowstorm; Megumi thought their benefactor looked happy for once, maybe.

Megumi was the last keeper of those memories, and they would disappear from existence along with his death.

Body was stronger than it had ever been under the stolen possession of the King of Curses, yet inside the hellscape of blood and bone, he was sunken eyes and ripped nails. Purgatory resembled flesh, and Megumi's nails were ripped off one-by-one as he clawed at the walls caging him in. He wasn't asking to get out. He was asking for a merciful and swift ending . . because Megumi was tired. So. Very. Tired.

[drippingheart]

GUILTY PLEASURES .

As for Fushiguro Megumi

In addition to comedy specials, explained here, Megumi enjoys comedic things in the form of people's pets. He does not really browse social media except when it comes to topics of nature and silly, nonsensical posts about cats and dogs. Close ups of cats meowing and cronching on air? Yes. Silly hats on ducks? Yes. Dogs getting caught doing something naughty? Absolutely. Reading high fantasy novels and occasionally drawing what he images the characters look like. He does not draw characters often because, frankly, he does not know how to draw very well. After several disappointing sketches, he promptly rips up and tosses out his drawings.

As for Getō Suguru

Free to play PC games are a complete waste of time and utterly ridiculous, Suguru acknowledges this, but it helps him decompress after mission after mission . . and also after being around Satoru for too long. He also may or may have not spent one too many yen on little avatar upgrades, hearts, and loot chests for assorted games. Reading depressing stories ( that people post on various forums ), reading books based on tragedies, and binging melancholy movies with sad / introspective endings. He doesn't know why . . it just makes him feel better.

[drippingheart]

MIMIKO, NANAKO , & FAMILY .

one — Contrary to canon, Mimiko and Nanako do not address Suguru with his family name nor with the honorific 'sama', at least not in private. They use these formalities only when speaking in front of strangers, enemies, and people they're still vetting. In private and around close 'family' ( such as Miguel and Manami ), they call him either: Suguru, papa, or Otō-san; their preference is papa.

two — I know Suguru was shown as being very egotistical and crazy as the years went on, and while I do think he would come off as such when stressed, in the midst of a violent episode, or dealing with an enemy, he was not like this in front of his daughters. He knew how to compartmentalize his work. Kind words and a smile were always used when regarding them.

three — Suguru did not only work hard to make his vision of a peaceful future a reality, he did it to provide Mimiko and Nanako with a life they deserved . . giving them everything he did not have growing up. New clothes, music lessons, instruments, art supplies, vacations to international spots ( away from humans ), and so forth. He spoiled them .. to a point.

He still emphasizes the importance of learning history, calligraphy, foreign languages. For things which Suguru did not know how to do, such as reading sheet music, he either hires or recruits 'curse users'* he trusted to teach them. His favorite thing to teach the girls is science. More accurately, compassion and empathy for nature and living things. Ironic? Yes. It wasn't simply thinking dogs and cats are cute; it was about learning animal facts, having a community garden, and helping any injured wildlife they found.

four — He considers all his close comrades as family. If someone wants to fight and die for his cause, he won't say no, but he will not force someone to do something dangerous if they do not wish it. It's a very difficult mentality to keep up as the years go by. He does think sacrifice is necessary, but he also does not want to witness anyone die with how few of them they are. He never required anyone in his found family to use the 'sama' honorific around him in private.

five — Mimiko and Nanako are the most important people in his life. He loves them so much it quite literally hurts him. He always makes sure they are safe and several someones or somethings have an eye on them at all times.

*NOTE , Suguru does not refer to sorcerers who do not conform to jujutsu politics as curse users; he finds that insulting and crude.