Run Rabbit—

He blew on his mug when Megumi's voice chimed through the door.

He was real bad at hiding things, recalling the time he shoved that messy shirt into his uniform to try and save his classmate's skin.

"Sorry for coming by so late, but-uh-" For some reason he was stammering, a little nervous if only from his eagerness to show the gift, "Here. Stroke of luck, and you'll never guess who was able to find it." Megumi places that album in Toji's lap, settling down next to him and taking the mug in his hands, thumbing the warm side of the ceramic.

To: Megumi

[txt]: I'll make some tea.

He rubbed his face as he got up. It was late but he didn't really care. If it couldn't wait for the morning then it really was important.

He didn't mean to wait this long, picking through the album and making copies was what ended up taking the most time. Just in case, he still hadn't handed them over to Gojo quite yet. The last thing he wanted to do was sour the already tense relationship between both parental figures.

It brought a memory to mind. Of an open casket and a child's hand in his own. Too small to understand what grief was. What loss was.

There wasn't any real outward reaction when he came back to the moment. There wasn't any tears shed, or wanting to deny what Megumi confessed. There would be no point.

It was bad news. His brain wants to compartmentalize the information. Fold it up and shoved into a box and shoved in the dark corner where everything else he won't ever reflect on live.

It's always how he's processed these sort of things. The one time he couldn't ignore it was watching his wife's heart give out. The other time is now. He wasn't the closest to little girl. Hell, he failed her just as much as Megumi, if not worse. Maybe it was his son's tangible misery worsening it.

Toji let a shuttering breath. One he's held since Megumi started. Unlike the many times before, he reached out for his son, his arms wrapping around his form firmly.

"...We still can."

He mutters the words low, against Megumi's spiky hair. There was a lot to address. There was more to stew on. And there was now, the only thing they can manage.

Megumi's hands raise to cling tight to his father, and all of that tension in the younger's form slowly melts. Petals from those flowers slowly fluttered at their feet, coming lose from the sudden embrace. But even for the ache that deemed to reach deep into Megumi's soul, there was a sliver of comfort he had wanted for years.

Tsumiki was always much more kind than him, than either of them. Blood didn't matter when she still put up with all of Megumi's anger, all of his frustration at their situation, and that damn attitude.

He loved her, dearly. Were he able to give her a proper burial, it would have been right within the Fushiguro family plot. She was always family.

"Yeah. Yeah, we can."

There was always a start to healing, and as long as it took Megumi to drag himself to it, at the very least, he was here.

He promised to start living for others, after all.

It's what Megumi wanted in the end. Satoru can only hope Megumi's more comfortable settling down to live normally compared to him.

When the pictures are offered, he laughs, ruffling Megumi's hair.

That picture was likely still his contact photo, he knew how the other operated by this point.

But there was no malice in that train of thought, he knew it was to save those sorts of memories, when things were nice. Megumi's mind flicks back to the photo album and draws him to the table once more, flipping through the pages slowly and allowing himself a bit of comfort, a moment to reminisce in something pleasant.

"I had to tell him about Tsumiki, too." A small sigh wheezed through the strain in his chest, "I don't really know how well he took it, he's as hard to read as you are sometimes. But...maybe this will help. Thank you, again."

Easily, he reaches out to tug Megumi in against his side, cheek pressed into his hair as he feels the other sag against him.

"I'm here, I'm here. Sorry it took so long to get my hands on it."

"I didn't really look around for too much of our stuff otherwise there, but if I go back through and see something, I'll get it. I dunno if they're in the business of keeping stuffed animals or anything."

He can't help but laugh a bit. He hadn't looked for his own things at all, just content to find the album.

Even for all the times he rejected that closeness, wanting to fuss and push away, these were the moments he could be more honest with himself and silently ask to be held. Megumi was unfortunately, not paying much attention when the other began to speak, only half catching the conversation before blinking and canting his eyes upward.

Those lashes were slightly wetted with tears.

Megumi raises a hand to wipe them away without a word.

Every muscle in his body ached, like the very memory of what occurred throbbed so deep within his very soul that it pin pointed those nerves and stabbed them directly.

"Tsumiki is gone. I couldn't protect her like I promised I would, and even though it was all out of my hands at the time...it was still my technique that was used to take her life."

The memory of her broken form was so vivid, though he was subdued at the time, he felt every moment of watching the life drain from that body, even if the person inhabiting it was no longer his sibling. He had hope, that for the first month or so residing upon this isle that she might appear. But with every passing day, every week, every month, that hope was slowly snuffed out.

It was...refreshing, to have someone talk to him openly, without having to pull things out. But Fushiguro was like that--despite the fact that he felt a need to push himself, he was always receptive to being talked to reasonably.

"You'll learn to live with them, in time. The ache never goes away, not completely. I won't lie and say that. But you'll learn to live with it."

Fushiguro looked down and away from him, for a while. He didn't push Fushugiro for an answer. He trusted that the younger sorcerer would talk when he was ready.

As always, it was returned.

Fushiguro had some new facial scarring, all along his eyes. He'd mentioned coming straight off of a battlefield. Nanami couldn't quite remember if Gojo mentioned how people who hadn't died came here. Nanami tried to place why the facial scarring was familiar. He couldn't quite put a finger on it.

"Your biological father?" He asked, for clarification. Nanami...wasn't sure how he felt about that. It wasn't his place to say, anyway. It was between father and son. "I hope he's treated you kindly."

Ah. Perhaps he should say something.

Another soft exhale, thumbing along the stitching at the end of his sweater absently, even for the summer he dressed as he was used to, baggy and comfortable. The teen found himself rarely leaving anyways, only to make runs for food or to check in on his father down the way.

Such a mundane way of living, but it was steady. He didn't care much for anything too exciting.

"Dunno if I would say he treated me well at first, he tried to kill me." As blunt as it was, the answer wasn't a lie. Megumi had fought for his life on more than one occasion, and this was certainly no exception. The aftermath was...a bit of a blur, however.

Probably due to the head injury. (Was not the first, nor the last.)

"Hm... Tax evasion?"

He chuckles at his dumb joke as he tested the strength of the bars separating them both. Oh?

They weren't as strong as his own birdcage... He started snapping them in half casually, enough of them for Megumi to step out easily.

Megumi couldn't even begin to think why they were in some sort of contained lab, it felt like a bad joke, some sort of weird dream he could wake up from at any time. He would be back in his bed, looking at the street lights filtering in through his blinds like he had been for days prior.

But no, he stumbles up to his feet watching those bars being snapped open, lamenting that he would have to properly thank the other for his rescue later.

Tsumiki is smiling at the camera in the photo, taken during a summer break when they had traveled to Kyoto. It had been for Gojo clan business, but he had wanted to treat them both to a trip after a tough school year. He can't ignore the swell of warmth in his chest at the reminder of her, his hands folded behind his back as Megumi takes in the pictures.

"I only flipped through a few pages. I figured you'd take it to go through with Toji."

It wasn't his place, even if he'd helped fill the back half of the album.

Megumi was so caught up in the memories of his sister that his mind was a bit frazzled, still tracing over that picture of her smiling face and trying to sort his emotions out silently. There was fondness, then the sickening reality that clawed along the back of his neck. The battle worn teen tried his hardest to focus on the good memories, but her absence lingered much too heavily, the wounds too fresh.

He only got to see her awake again for a brief time, it was much too short.

"Yeah...yeah, you did."

He slowly rises from that chair on shaky legs, one of those arms opening as if silently asking for an embrace. Even so, his lips parted to speak with a noticeable tremble to his usual husky tone.

Well. He won't mention that. This was hopefully make up for all of it.

"I'm sure you've noticed all the summer festivities around. They've got the boardwalk all covered in streamers. I took a little trip over to Fibonacci to see Nanami and spotted a little shop called No Place Like Home."

He sets the parcel down in front of Megumi before he steps around the table to watch him.

He glances to the chair pulled out for him and settles down with only a slight wince that he's able to hide with a sigh. Of course, there's a moment where he tries to think about what it might be, fingers brushing over the edges before meticulously popping the tape open instead of tearing the paper away.

"What do you mean?"

Even as Megumi poses the question, his eyes flick down to the surface of the item and realizes quickly what it might just be. His breath hitches, pushing that decorative paper open with a bit more urgency and blinking slowly with the revelation.

His family album, it was...safe and sound again.

The younger immediately opens it and flicks to the photos of his sister, fingers tracing the slight curl of her hair with how it fell along her shoulders. His eyes soften, and close. Having to stop himself from submitting to those welling emotions.

( txt: megumi ) it's something i've been trying to get my hands on for a while for you

( txt: megumi ) consider it a late birthday gift or smthing

( txt: megumi ) i'm on my way over now

He locks his phone, tucking it in his pocket as he tucks the book against his chest, wrapped in craft paper to hide what it really was. The train ride to Archimedes doesn't take long at all, and it's a short jaunt to the condominium that feels even shorter because of his excitement.

He does give the courtesy of knocking before he lets himself in, bending to take his shoes off and tuck them to the side.

The idea of his birthday had completely slipped his mind considering their status before arriving here. He never hated any of Gojo's gifts, truly, in fact he kept plenty of them back at the dorm.

Megumi wouldn't lie, it was a nice thought to gradually start re-growing that collection.

Gojo arrives shortly after he finished tucking away items into the fridge, following him into the dining room as instructed. Hands tucked into his jogger pockets as he walked up to the other, peeking at the item he had so tightly tucked against that chest.

He rubs his chin and tilts his head as he watches Megumi for a solid moment and a half. There wasn't a need to call out something they both knew.

The robots were annoying at worse. Toji didn't have a love for bashing in machinery. No joy in crush metal under the onslaught of the metal bar that once held him in his cell. Alas, he was a man on a mission and he wasn't even sure if the mission was even necessary.

He wasn't really trying to save Megumi. The kid survived on his for a year and dealt with whatever shenanigans the Six Eyes put him through. He sure as hell wasn't a stranger to violence.

Still... if he could at least make sure he's not here, then that would be good enough--

"--Megumi?"

There he was. As safe and sound as anyone can be behind bars.

Megumi blinked, eyes flicking up to the figure of Toji standing outside of the metal cage he had been placed within.

Wait, why was he in this place..?

Another patch of blossoms, baby blues mixed with indigo like a laced collar of barbed wire around the teen's throat.

"Nothin' but sleeping in hopes I'm not awake long enough for it to set in."

It was only then that he'd properly broken eye contact with the younger sorcerer, and he chanced at glance down, and--

He frowned.

That was...also concerning. And relieving. Both sensations hit him at once, and he was a little bit struck by that fact as well. It reminded him a little of when he'd come back to society. The news that he had to catch up on.

Deciding that it was rude to demand the younger sorcerer for answers within a first conversation, he set aside his questions for later.

"That won't be a problem for me. What about you? Are you faring well...?"

His state was obvious, dressed leisurely but the scars were still evident along his facial structure. He never bothered covering them up, why would he?

"When I arrived, it was fresh off the battlefield. So some of those wounds still ache, I think they always will until the day I pass."

Deep pools of teal remain downcast until they crawl back up to meet Nanami's own gaze, wondering briefly what might have occurred for him to never see the other again after Shibuya. There weren't any visible wounds, no scars...he looked as pristine as ever.