More than just Megumi

The woman bent down and teased him. "Little Megumi, you'll be taking my surname from now on."

He took a step back, wanting to leave, only to find there was nowhere to escape.

(1)

By the time he became fully aware, Megumi Fushiguro had already climbed out of his crib without realizing it and toddled into the living room.

Unreal.

Everything he saw, stood on, and felt seemed unreal.

Could this be some kind of domain? Or a trap laid by that Curse User with the bizarre abilities? But the problem is, I don't think I've ever heard Gojo-sensei mention anyone whose Cursed Technique could shrink a person and send them back more than ten years.

He looked up at the calendar hanging on the living room wall. The enormous 2004 made it seem as though time really was running backward. Or perhaps this was his life flashing before his eyes after death.

Megumi Fushiguro was certain he had died, in the battle at Shibuya in 2018.

If anyone asked whether sacrificing himself to take his enemy down with him had been worth it, he probably wouldn't answer.

Ever since he had stepped into Jujutsu Society, the line between life and death had long since blurred for him. What did worth have to do with it? What did importance have to do with it?

He explored the living room without finding any useful information or recalling a single detail. Megumi Fushiguro was certain he had never been here in his life.

Then where is this? Even if this is my life flashing before my eyes, shouldn't this part be over by now?

His child's body had already exhausted itself getting him through the living room. Megumi Fushiguro simply sat down in the entryway to rest, planning to open the door afterward and explore the next stage of his life.

Just then, someone opened the door.

A small silhouette stood against the light in the open doorway, its features impossible to make out. When the door closed a little and he saw her clearly, his breath caught involuntarily.

Medium-length black hair, emerald-green eyes, and a face that felt deeply familiar, yet he couldn't put a name to it.

So comforting, yet so utterly unfamiliar.

Is she some relative from my memories? Is the reason I don't remember her the loneliness and desire to escape written on her face right now?

Megumi Fushiguro understood. In his memories, this would be their last meeting. Now she was leaving.

The girl looked down at him, and their eyes met. A strange reluctance to let her go clamored in Megumi Fushiguro's heart, like the pull of a close blood relation.

Is she related to the father whose face I can't remember? I don't remember anyone like her in the Zenin Clan. Could she be a relative on my mother's side, then?

The word mother suddenly stirred in Megumi Fushiguro the desire to keep this girl from leaving.

But what can I say to make her stay? Then let me ask her not to cry anymore, even if her tears are flowing inward.

For all his silence, Megumi Fushiguro was thoughtful and incredibly sensitive. He was simply good at leaving things unsaid. That didn't mean he couldn't see or feel them.

He told her not to cry. Startled, the girl touched her own face and asked him, "Are you talking to me?"

She's lying to herself.

He repeated himself with certainty, then stared steadily at the girl until a trace of shock appeared in those emerald eyes, along with an emotion he couldn't understand.

At least she probably won't leave now, will she?

As though he had settled some unfinished business, Megumi Fushiguro was ready to leave this memory behind. He closed his eyes and waited for the torrent of time to swallow him and carry him to the next stage.

But even after waiting ages, he remained trapped in a toddler's body. Especially when he saw Toji, who had killed himself before him during the battle at Shibuya, he slowly began to realize this wasn't his life flashing before his eyes.

This was his own nightmare, one he couldn't wake from.

(2)

[From now on, you won't be called Megumi Zenin anymore. You and your dad will both take my surname. You'll be Megumi Fushiguro, and your dad will be Fushiguro...]

"Toji, could you turn the TV down a little? Megumi's sleeping."

Megumi Fushiguro's eyes snapped open as memory overlapped with reality. The man's name and face gradually came into focus.

His father was the Curse User Toji Fushiguro, who had killed himself before him in the battle at Shibuya. He was also Toji Zenin, currently lying on the couch and pressing the remote in response to his daughter.

And he was the man who had been like a walking corpse, buried deep in memories Megumi didn't want to recall at all.

Which one is the true face of the person called my father? It was all so confusing that Megumi Fushiguro didn't want to think about it anymore. He had never needed a father in the first place.

He tried to climb down from the armchair, forgetting he was still a tiny child barely eighty centimeters tall. The instant his feet dangled in midair and he felt himself fall, what met him wasn't the cold, hard floor, but a thick, soft cushion someone had placed there without his noticing.

Megumi Fushiguro distinctly remembered that the cushion hadn't been there before he went to sleep. Ruling out Toji immediately left only this older sister he had never met and had no memory of.

"Big sister" was the family title that came most naturally to him. In that suffocating Fushiguro home he couldn't escape, Tsumiki Fushiguro had cared for him as his older sister. Even without a blood connection, Tsumiki remained the only person he acknowledged as family.

And now his own sister by blood had appeared. Yet no matter what, he couldn't bring himself to call her that. He even felt a panicked unease that left him afraid to touch her or look straight at her.

Why was that?

(3)

On another sleepless night, unable to sleep, he went to the entryway again.

Moonlight streamed through the clear window, bathing the floor in brilliant white. Sitting on the chilly floor, Megumi Fushiguro thought about many things.

Rather than thoughts, they were memories of the past he couldn't suppress. Memories buried in his heart that kept him from looking Yuanli in the eye.

When he was three, his surname had been changed to Fushiguro without anyone telling him, and he had been sent to Fushiguro Tomomi's house, officially beginning his life with his stepmother and Tsumiki.

Megumi Fushiguro still remembered what Fushiguro Tomomi looked like, not because he liked his stepmother, but because she made him feel suffocated.

Disheveled hair and an ashen face. Late at night, she would stand beside his bed, muttering strangely, stroking his face over and over with her overgrown nails, murmuring, "So alike. So much like Toji. So very alike."

Not even Tsumiki knew how frightened he had been back then. After that, he suddenly became perceptive. Whenever Fushiguro Tomomi stared at him with that look he couldn't decipher, he would sneak outside, only returning without a word when Tsumiki came looking for him at night. It wasn't until Fushiguro Tomomi abandoned him and Tsumiki that he escaped those nightmares.

But it had also taught him to keep his distance from the opposite sex and given him a keen eye for others.

So that day, after he saw the indescribable look in Yuanli's eyes, his old nightmares had crept back into his heart.

He had clumsily avoided every attempt she made to touch him, even her gaze.

Footsteps sounded behind him. From their sound, they belonged to Yuanli. Megumi Fushiguro's entire body tensed. He couldn't summon the Divine Dogs now. He was merely a completely defenseless two-year-old.

The footsteps came closer and closer, each one pounding against his eardrums.

Will she be like Fushiguro Tomomi, too?

Just as Megumi Fushiguro braced himself to push her away with all his strength, Yuanli stopped behind him, still some distance away. She merely set a child's blanket beside him, then returned to her room without a word.

Only when he heard the bedroom door close did Megumi Fushiguro let out a breath.

His tiny hand rested on the soft blanket as he pondered something, his expression unreadable.

(4)

Yuanli began keeping her distance from him.

She avoided his hands when passing him food, and set his milk somewhere he could easily reach. Even when he fell face-first into his sticky vegetable porridge, she deliberately looked away, allowing him the dignity of getting up and returning to his room to change on his own. Then she quietly cleaned everything up and brought him a fresh serving of porridge.

For a fifteen-year-old trapped in a two-year-old's body, such courtesy and respect were a rare blessing.

Megumi Fushiguro would also return the favor however he could, though when he poured coffee, his lack of fine control over his fingers left his fingertips red from a burn.

By dinner, Toji Zenin had shattered that comfortable distance.

The moment Megumi left his room, he saw a scene from his memories of the battle at Shibuya.

Toji Zenin held a long knife, his hands covered in blood and his expression sinister. Meanwhile, Yuanli's right ear was wrapped in thick gauze, blood still seeping through it. Then Megumi looked at the cutting board covered in bloody flesh.

He jumped straight to a conclusion.

Megumi Fushiguro's first instinct was to rush forward to protect Yuanli. Before he could even attack, he was lifted off the floor.

This troublesome two-year-old body couldn't even produce cursed energy. With neither cursed energy nor a weapon, he was desperate enough to bite.

Just then, Yuanli wrapped her arms around his waist, pulled him back, and settled him on the couch.

The discomfort of being touched unexpectedly made his body go rigid. But she quickly released him, and an apology followed.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to. I won't touch you so casually again."

An apology so sincere it felt distant.

I should feel relieved, shouldn't I? Then why do I feel a little disappointed now?

(5)

What made Megumi Fushiguro resolve to have a late-night talk with Yuanli wasn't just that mug of hot cocoa, but also his desire to understand that look in her eyes.

He sat on the bed, with Yuanli facing him from a little chair. Although he had held the upper hand at the start, the conversation slowly veered off course, even getting him to tell the truth.

Once he revealed his real age, that look appeared in Yuanli's eyes again. Forcing himself to calm down, he gradually began to make sense of the gaze he hadn't been able to decipher.

It was different from Fushiguro Tomomi's. There was none of that suffocating feeling of a cold, venomous snake coiling around him. This gaze was more open, more pure, like a full moon reflected in a cup, clear for him to see.

"May I give you a hug?" he heard Yuanli ask in complete earnest.

He hesitated for a while, then slowly nodded.

Yuanli stood and gave him a brief, gentle hug. Before his body even had time to feel uncomfortable, she quickly let go and returned to the child's chair.

Even her hug feels like moonlight falling on me.

Megumi Fushiguro couldn't help thinking that as he looked at her.