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Whether it was Gojo popping in to ‘borrow’ the hairdryer, or Tsumiki on a mission from Gojo to straight up steal his extra strength hair gel, Megumi was used to never being alone in his room. Even when Gojo was out or Tsumiki was at a sleepover, he still never felt alone, as Gojo had set alarms on Megumi’s phone using his own voice.
“Time to get up, Megumi~!” Megumi’s phone chirped. Megumi debated throwing it out the window.
“I heard that alarm, Megumi~!” Real Gojo yelled from the kitchen. “Get up before I throw you out myself!”
Megumi threw his phone at the wall as a compromise, unrolled his bedcovers, set his feet on the floor, and tried to get himself to move.
“Life sucks,” he groaned, shuffling slowly towards the door. He could already hear Tsumiki’s phone alarm going off; not Gojo’s voice, but a terrible pop song that made Megumi want to tear his ears off. He almost wished Gojo hadn’t bothered buying them phones, just so he was still allowed to get up far too late for school and didn’t have to hear Gojo’s annoying ass first thing.
“Hiya, Megs!” Gojo beamed as soon as Megumi set foot in the kitchen. “Ooh, rough night?”
Megumi put a hand on his bedhead defensively. “It’s genetic.”
“Suuure it is,” Gojo nodded. “And that’s why Tsumiki gets the exact same one.”
“We’re not related.”
“That’s the point,” Gojo said. “It’s all down to how you sleep.”
Megumi stared at him; Gojo laughed and turned back to the frying pan he’d left unattended. “You nearly had me commit a crime, Gumi. Be more careful next time.”
“The crime of burning my pancakes?”
“Bingo! Get the plates, would you?”
“I can’t reach.”
“Fine, then watch the pancake.” Gojo slid away from the pan and manoeuvred Megumi into position, snickering at Megumi’s expression. “Don’t look so hard done by, you just have to watch a pancake cook.”
“Why are you putting me, a child, in charge of this?”
“I’m literally right here, it’s totally allowed,” Gojo reasoned. “Besides, no-one considers you a kid. Far too cynical.”
“I’m not cynical, I’m realistic.”
“Yeah, yeah, sure,” Gojo waved him off. “Do you know where Miki is? She’s gonna be late…”
In the end, Megumi managed to only be ten minutes late for school, and that included the time Gojo took to fuss over him like he did every morning. After Gojo was satisfied with how Megumi’s scarf looked and how spiky his hair had been made, he pushed him encouragingly towards the school building like Megumi was a small child who wouldn’t leave him alone.
“I can walk,” Megumi huffed. “Stop pushing me.”
“I’m being encouraging and supportive,” Gojo argued, moving Megumi along. “And you’re late, so speed it up.”
“It’s not my fault I’m late,” Megumi complained. “And we’re late every day, I’m pretty sure she’s used to it.”
“Who’s used to it?”
“Mrs Tachibana.”
“Who’s she?”
“My teacher, Satoru, who you met. Yesterday. At parents’ night.”
“Ohhhh, is that who she was? I had no idea.”
“I can’t tell if you’re kidding or not.”
“Kidding? I never kid. I genuinely had no idea who she was.”
“That doesn’t reassure me. At all.”
“Why not? I was being 100% serious.”
“That makes it worse.”
“How am I magically meant to know who your teacher is? No-one ever tells me this stuff.”
“You got a letter at the start of the year.”
“I never read those things.” Gojo shrugged, opening the door and stepping aside to let Megumi through first. “There’s no point to them, they’re meaningless.”
“Well, the point to them is that you’d know who my teacher is.”
“Hey, everyone makes mistakes sometimes. Peace and love, Megumi-“
“Mr Fushiguro?” a voice interrupted, stopping Megumi’s retort.
“Mrs Tachibana?!”
“Kinda weird to refer to a kid as ‘Mr Fushiguro,” Gojo commented.
“I wasn’t talking to him, I was talking to you,” Mrs Tachibana corrected.
“Oh, well, I’m not called Fushiguro. Don’t you have a file or something?”
“Maybe somewhere, but I don’t have total access to it. I just wanted a little chat; do you have time?”
“Sure, sure. I’m made of time.”
“Thank you. Megumi, you can hurry along to class now. You’re a bit late, I’m afraid,” she smiled, gently ushering Megumi along. “You’ll see your … friend … after school.”
“I’m his guardian,” Gojo objected loudly.
“I don’t think this is a good idea,” Megumi said, nervously eyeing the two adults. “Satoru can be a little-“
“No, no, you don’t need to worry about me,” Gojo waved. “Have a good day, Megs. Bite some bitch- oops.” He quickly covered his mouth with his hand. “I didn’t say that.”
Mrs Tachibana sighed heavily. “Well, at least I see where Megumi gets some of his habits from. Step this way.”
It was a bit of a struggle to curb his pace so he didn’t overtake the teacher, but Gojo managed to follow her obediently down a strangely ominous corridor after saying goodbye to Megumi. Was this what school was like nowadays? He’d never been, he wouldn’t know.
“In here.” Mrs Tachibana opened a side door and ushered Gojo through. “Feel free to get comfortable. Tea, Mr-?”
“Gojo. And no, thank you,” Gojo declined, resisting the urge to sit up straighter. “I prefer vodka.”
Mrs Tachibana glared at him.
“Alright, alright, professional face on,” he backtracked, hands up in a ‘surrender’ gesture. “Tough crowd.”
“We’re here to discuss your … ward?...’s wellbeing, Mr Gojo. I ask that you take this seriously.” She sat down opposite him.
“No need for the question,” Gojo prickled. “He is my ward. Actually, I’ve adopted him, so son. He’s my son.”
“Hmm.”
“Hmm?”
“Yes. Hmm. You look very young.”
“Thank you, would you like my skin routine? Some of the products may be a little pricey, but I always say quality over-“
“That’s quite enough, Mr Gojo. That was not a compliment. How old are you?”
“Twenty-one.”
“I see. And are you Megumi’s sole guardian?”
“That’s me.”
“Hmm,” Mrs Tachibana said again. She didn’t say anything after that for quite a while. Gojo began to get nervous; he’d never really thought about it before, but he’d been leading quite an anti-social life.
“Megumi is quite a bad influence on the other children,” she said, finally.
“Oh, is he?” Gojo wasn’t actually that surprised; Megumi was a bad influence on him, and he was a grown man. “What’s he been doing?”
“He has set up a gum trading business.”
“Has he? That’s actually quite smart, I wonder- I mean, oh, that’s terrible. Is it?”
“It is.”
“Why’s that, then?”
“We do not allow children to bring or earn money to or at school,” Mrs Tachibana recited. “Nor are they allowed to take money – or anything else, for that matter – from the other children.”
“So, if he’s not allowed, how’d he managed to do it?”
“We have asked him to stop multiple times.”
“Did you consider taking his gum off him?”
“We have. We have also removed his ‘earnings’-“
“Woah, woah, hold it. You’re taking his money?”
“We return it to the children, of course.”
“But they keep the gum they bought?”
“If Megumi has chosen to distribute his gum, that is his choice, and-“
“He sold his gum. If they get their money back, he should get the product back. That’s how refunds work, even forced ones.”
“That is not the point, Mr Gojo,” Mrs Tachibana said hotly. “We ask that you speak with Megumi about his behaviour and don’t let it happen again.”
“Yeah, yeah. Is that all?” Gojo yawned. “I have better things to do than have you tell me I’m raising my son wrong.”
“I am not criticising your parenting at all, but we do have certain rules-“
“And that’s why you commented on my age?”
“Megumi simply needs a mature role model who will tell him what is right and wrong.”
“You mean, tell him he can’t earn money from his chewing gum?”
“Quite.”
“I see.” Gojo thought for a minute. “What will happen if it doesn’t stop?”
Mrs Tachibana didn’t answer that with anything more than a glare. “I ask that you speak with Megumi at the next opportunity.”
“Yeah, well, he’s kinda in school at the moment, so. Thanks, I think?”
“You are most welcome. Thank you for your time, Mr Gojo. I hope to see an improvement in Megumi soon.” She stood to open the door. “Call me anytime if you have questions.”
“Of course,” Gojo agreed, knowing full well he didn’t know her phone number. “Nice meeting you, Mrs Tachihara.”
“It’s Tachibana.”
“Whatever.”
“So, are you gonna tell me to stop selling gum?” Megumi asked.
Gojo swung their joined hands back and forth between them. “What? No. And you know what else? Your silly teacher told me I was too young to raise you.”
“What?! But you’re old and wrinkly! Who thinks you’re too young?!”
“Exactly, that’s what I- Megumi! You wound me!”
“Good. I hope it hurts.”
“Fine then. Stop selling gum on the playground.”
“But Satoruuuuuu-“