to your sister, who is always by your side | megumi fushiguro x sister reader
warnings: major angst, slight fluff, mentions of sex work.
can be considered as a part two to [this story!]
MEGUMI has never been good with words.
Not when he was a child watching you work tirelessly to keep food on the table. Not when exhaustion was obvious in your face. But you never showed it to him and Tsumiki. Instead you smiled at them, as if they were the only things in the world that mattered. Not even when he wanted to tell you how much he admired you, how much he loved you—because words never seemed enough.
But Megumi has always been good at watching.
He saw everything.
Even the things you tried to hide.
𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅
You were just a child yourself, forced to become something you never should have been. A mother, a protector, a provider. All because your father decided to drown himself in his sorrows after the death of your mother. You didn’t have cursed energy. No technique to keep you safe. No weapons, no powers, nothing but your own body and sheer determination.
And yet, you carried the weight of the world for him and Tsumiki.
Megumi wasn’t supposed to know how you got the money.
You never told him.
You never wanted him to know.
But he saw.
He saw the bruises you tried to cover up with makeup. The way your hands trembled when you counted yen under dim apartment lights. He saw how you winced when you thought no one was looking, how you took too-long showers as if trying to scrub something away.
And one night—one night he really saw.
He had been looking for you. You were late. It was past midnight, and the pit in his stomach had turned into something unbearable. He had never been good at listening, but when you told him to stay home, he usually did.
Not that night.
He found you in the alley near your job.
You were wearing something that barely covered you, heels that made you stumble when you walked. In your hands—yen, more than he had ever seen before.
You were crying.
Silent, ugly sobs. Tears streaming down your cheeks, your shoulders shaking as you clutched the money like it was both a blessing and a curse.
Megumi didn’t know what to say. He was just a kid. Just a stupid, powerless kid.
You noticed him before he could run away.
And in that moment, you looked so small. Just like him.
Your mouth opened, but no words came out. Maybe you were going to lie to him. Maybe you were going to tell him something stupid, like how everything was okay.
But Megumi wasn’t a fool.
And you.. you had never been a good liar.
So instead, you gave him a broken, tearful smile.
“It’s enough for rent,” you said, voice hoarse. “Tsumiki can have new shoes now.”
Megumi didn’t respond.
Something inside him.. Something so deep and ugly.. twisted until he thought he was going to be sick.
That was the night he swore.
He swore he would become strong.
That one day, you wouldn’t have to suffer for them.
That one day, he would be the one to provide for you.
𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅
Then Gojo entered your lives.
Megumi expected to hate him.
And he did.
At first.
The white-haired idiot was annoying, always grinning, always teasing. He had the emotional maturity of a child, and Megumi wanted nothing more than to wipe the smug look off his face.
But then he saw you with him.
Saw how you laughed around him, how the weight you always carried seemed a little lighter. How, for the first time in a long time, you weren’t just surviving—you were happy.
Gojo was loud, obnoxious, and an idiot.
But Gojo also adored you. The same way he adored you.
He knew that just like him, Gojo burn the whole world if it meant your happiness would be forever, if it meant you’d be at peace your whole life.
And he had money. More money than Megumi knew what to do with.
Which meant—
You never had to go back to that.
Megumi would never say it out loud, but that was the moment he stopped hating him.
That didn’t mean he stopped finding him annoying.
One night, as Gojo was rambling about something stupid and you were smiling, Megumi muttered under his breath, “He’s annoying.”
You snorted. “Tell me about it.”
Megumi sighed, looking at the man who had somehow wormed his way into both of your lives. “But I’m glad he makes you happy.”
Your expression softened. You reached out, ruffling his hair like you always did. “That’s all that matters, huh?”
Megumi didn’t respond. He didn’t need to. You already knew.
𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅
Shibuya was burning.
Megumi ran. His hands trembled, his breaths came too fast, but he kept running.
His phone was still pressed against his ear.
“Where are you?” His voice was rough, breathless. “Just tell me where you are—I’ll come get you.”
Silence.
“Please.”
Another beat of silence, then—
The faintest inhale, shaky and weak.
Megumi’s grip on the phone tightened. “Hey. Stay awake. I’m almost there.”
Somewhere, Gojo was trapped.
Somewhere, you were—
His mind was screaming.
This isn’t supposed to happen.
You were supposed to be safe. You weren’t supposed to be anywhere near this.
He should’ve made sure.
He should’ve protected you.
He should’ve—
“…Megumi.”
Your voice was faint, barely above a whisper, but it shattered him.
“I—I’m right here.” He swallowed down the panic rising in his throat. “Just—just stay with me, okay?”
But you didn’t answer.
And for the first time in his life, Megumi didn’t know.
Did you—?
No.
No, he refused to believe that.
You had always been by his side.
Even now—you had to be.
Right?
