𝒈𝒐 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒎𝒆 ━━ ( megumi fushiguro. )

𝐯.

Kazuya Sasaki knew that if he kept avoiding the subject then everything would crumble around him— like a natural disaster that had churned in his own hands. And though he wasn't considered a stubborn boy, he knew that when it came to this then he would sit and watch everything drown in his flood just as the most stubborn of them all had once done.

And if Kazuya was meant to be God in this analogy then perhaps Megumi was his antonym, a god killer who never forgot and refused to give in.

The problem was that Kazuya didn't want to stoop to the level of any gods, especially not the jujutsu sorcerers who thought they were so. He vowed he would be the most ordinary human out there and he knew he would never achieve that if he continued to be the god in the metaphor but perhaps old habits die hard (not necessarily his personal habits, but blood did happen to be thicker than water in this case). The other problem was that Megumi actually wanted to be the god killer in the metaphor, a teen dead set on changing the ways of his friend that shouldn't have to.

What Gojo had said to the grieving Kazuya had been the last straw for the young boy and he had began avoiding a specific aspiring sorcerer. Said 'last straw' only lasted a week though and soon the raven haired teen was sitting with the blonde in his backyard.

Mio and Michi, much to Fushiguro's relief, were not home at the moment. It was just the two boys in the middle of a once loved garden, now withered in the lengthy absence of Sasaki's grandmother. The picnic bench they sat on still stood as strong as the willow tree over them (which honestly came as a surprise considering).

"We can't just not talk about it," Fushiguro finally spoke, twirling the snack his friend had provided between his fingers.

"Wrong." Sasaki brushed it off looked to a crow far off.

"I didn't know Gojo was going to bring up—"

"But you're happy he did," Kazuya snapped and his dark eyes met Megumi's. "Because you have been trying to get me to do the same for months, Fushiguro. I don't understand it."

"I—..." The older of the two stuttered over his words harshly in an attempt to stop his mind from racing but the younger would have none of it. He reached across the pine table to tug at Megumi's wrist.

"Tell me, Megu. Why must I come with you?"

Megumi Fushiguro did not cry often. To cry was to leave himself vulnerable to people he didn't love and even more vulnerable to those he did. So he didn't allow the water to pool over though they rose dangerously close.

"I trust you, Kazuya. I don't want you to leave."

"You'll have Satoru. I know he'll look after you."

"Gojo isn't you. No one is."

It seemed like an obvious remark but Kazuya would forever know what Megumi meant. That's why guilt began crawling down his veins and towards his heart, scratching along his bones for leverage and clenching at his muscles.

All that Kazuya could bear to do was tap a single finger against Megumi's cheek, a loving gesture that made the boy look away towards the grass, and nod slightly.

"I know, Megumi Fushiguro. I know."