Chapter Text
Megumi has a hard time believing this kid is Gojo’s in any timeline, let alone their own.
She’s too well-adjusted, is the thing. Not nearly crazy enough. Way too sweet and kind. She actually says please and thank you. She looks enough like him, he can admit, but the horn throws him off. Even swallowed up by a mickey mouse hat, he still can’t forget the reminder of her otherness. Does Gojo seriously have a baby with an alien of some kind? It says a lot that Megumi doesn’t dismiss that out of hand.
But the real reason Megumi refuses to believe Eri is Gojo’s kid is because he just likes her too damn much. And he dislikes Gojo way too much for this to be possible.
Oh, he’s grateful for him, that was never in question. He respects the hell out of him. And he thinks he’s been a decent enough teacher and mentor, for all that it was just as much a baptism by fire for him as it was for Megumi. He’ll always be thankful that Gojo was there to stop the Ze’nin clan from taking him and Tsumiki. That he’s still around, watching over Megumi and taking care of Tsumiki’s hospital bills.
He’s a kind person, but Megumi would never consider him nice. As a child, Megumi would have rather torn off his own hand than gone to Gojo for help. That probably said more about Megumi’s traumas as a child than Gojo’s guardianship, but it was true enough that Megumi was an unruly child and at the time Gojo was just an unruly child himself. He didn’t know how to truly help Megumi, and Megumi could always tell he didn’t really want to, either. Something had forced Gojo to intervene in his life, and it was never altruism. His motives always smelled suspiciously like guilt to Megumi, although he refused to ever confirm it.
At any rate, Megumi appreciates and acknowledges everything Gojo has done for him, but he would never call them close.
Even now, closer to an adult than a child, he still has trouble dealing with that guy for more than a few hours at a time. They have their moments, where their jagged edges can almost align in a way that seems familial enough, but eventually his chainsaw of a personality will grate on Megumi’s short temper, and he’ll vow to stay away from him for as long as possible.
But Eri— Eri he could see himself wanting to spend time with.
She’s just a kid, but there’s a solemn wisdom to her that almost hurts to see, because it reminds him so much of himself.
And it reminds him that Gojo had been a kid back then, just like Megumi had.
Megumi had hated him for inserting himself into Megumi’s life, and had done his best to shove the annoying bastard away, and ignore him whenever he could. Megumi hated that he’d needed Gojo. He hated that he needed anyone at all.
And Gojo hadn’t deserved that.
For all his faults, he’d tried his best. But at the time, Megumi simply just couldn’t accept it.
And if Eri is just like Megumi, yet she manages to be a sweet and goodnatured child as opposed to the sullen brat that Megumi was, then it had always been Megumi that had been the problem, not Gojo. And Megumi is still the problem; Megumi is the reason he and Gojo aren’t close. It’s not Gojo that’s putting up those walls. Eri’s existence proves he’d fold like a house of cards the moment a child reached out to him with open arms. In fact Megumi sees it happen with his own two eyes, when Eri wanders over to him and silently asks to be held in his arms when she gets tired of walking. Gojo doesn’t resist at all. He takes down that impenetrable barrier of his and lets her settle against him.
Kugisaki elbows him, hard, causing him to look away from that particular scene.
He turns to scowl at her, only to find she’s scowling back. “What do you have against Eri-chan, huh?” She prods, aggressively.
“Nothing!” He insists, leaning away from her.
He has nothing against Eri. She’s a good kid. A great kid, in fact.
Most kids would be a nightmare at Disneyland, but she’s calm and collected. She waits patiently and without complaint for all the rides, and doesn’t whine about being tired or hungry. She doesn’t mind when Itadori or Kugisaki insist on one ride over another, even if she might have had a preference. She listens to all of Gojo’s directions, and doesn’t try to just run off without telling them.
Kugisaki squints at him. “Then why do you keep glaring at her?”
“I’m not glaring.” He protests, feeling his ears growing red. “I’m just— staring.”
“Staring.” Kugisaki repeats, unimpressed.
“It’s a lot to take in, alright?” He defends. More than Kugisaki even knows. He hasn’t mentioned his complicated history with Gojo, and he doesn’t think Gojo has either.
This seems to work in getting Kugisaki to back off. “Yeah, that’s true. Still can’t believe sensei has a kid. And she’s actually sweet! I would have thought she’d be a total brat.”
It’s nothing Megumi hadn’t already thought himself, yet somehow, hearing it aloud makes him all defensive. He’s such a hypocrite. “Gojo’s not that bad.”
Kugisaki gives him an unimpressed look.
Feeling even worse, he doubles down. “He’s not.”
“Right.” She says, shortly.
They’re distracted by Itadori waving them over towards the front of the long line he and Gojo have been standing in while he and Kugisaki had left to get them snacks. Megumi hands over the cotton candy cloud to Gojo, who enthusiastically goes on to split it with Eri. Kugisaki hands Itadori his milkshake and burger, and to no one’s surprise, Itadori devours both of them in record time. Megumi himself had gotten a similar order, and had barely made a dent in his own milkshake.
“Oh no,” Itadori says after a moment, sounding pained. “My stomach doesn’t feel good.”
Kugisaki looks at him critically. “... That actually happens to you?”
Her incredulity is well warranted. Itadori was the guy who swallowed Sukuna’s disgusting finger whole, after all.
Itadori sends a panicked look towards the ride behind them. It’s the teacup ride, and predictably it's filled with kids Eri’s age shrieking at decibels that make Megumi wish he’d brought ear plugs. Gojo actually looks a bit panicked and worried himself, turning towards Itadori.
“Your stomach hurts, Yuuji-kun?” He asks, frowning.
Itadori nods, glum. “Yeah… I think it was the milkshake.”
Megumi sighs. “Idiot. You can’t ride this thing then. You’ll throw up everywhere.”
Gojo only frowns further, looking thoughtful. “Hmm… Eri-chan’s not tall enough to ride it herself. What about you, Nobara-chan?”
Kugisaki looks a little green at the thought. “I’m the same.”
Itadori tilts his head at Gojo, still clutching his stomach. “Eh? What about you, sensei?”
Megumi just sighs again, and cuts in before Gojo can respond. “I can ride with her.”
Itadori and Kugisaki wouldn’t know it, but Gojo is actually bad with stuff like this. Intense spinning is hell on his eyes; he gets bad enough vertigo from them as it is, even if he’ll never admit to it. Megumi supposes its both pride and practicality that keeps him from ever complaining loudly about it as he does every other minor inconvenience in his life. If his enemies ever knew just how badly dizziness could affect him, they’d exploit it endlessly.
Gojo actually looks a little relieved. “Thanks, Megumi! We’ll wait right here for you!”
Megumi isn’t exactly fond of these kinds of spinning rides himself, but at the very least, he’s not liable to projectile vomit all over Eri while they’re in the teacups together, so he gets on the ride with her without complaint.
“Are you strapped in Eri-chan?” He looks over the table, seeing she’s struggling with her seatbelt. He straps her in, before scooting over into the seat next to her. No one else gets in their cup with them, which he chooses to take as a blessing. Less screaming kids that way.
Eri is just as quiet as he is, though, so he imagines they must look like a very odd pair from the outside. He internally prays that Gojo’s not out at the sidelines taking embarrassing videos of them, but he’s not holding his breath on that.
He glances down at Eri as they’re violently tossed around another cup full of shrieking kids. “Doing okay, Eri-chan?”
She peers up at him with her bright, ruby red eyes. “Mn.”
He was specifically asking about the ride, but as he thinks on it… that question could encompass a lot more than a single teacup ride.
He’s silent for a moment, before he asks, tentatively, “Are you okay, with Gojo-sensei? He’s not too much for you?”
This time when Eri looks up at him, she looks a little confused. “Too much?”
“Yeah, you know how he is.” Megumi gives a vague wave of his hand. “He hasn’t been too loud? Hasn’t tried to do anything crazy?”
Eri considers the question. “Well… he’s been a little sad.” She reveals, in a little voice.
Megumi feels a weird swooping in his stomach. Oh. So she knows about that too. About how Gojo can get increasingly loud and manic the more he spirals into a pit of his own silent despair. How it’s almost impossible to get him out of it; how you just have to sit and wait and hope he finds his way back on his own.
“But he’s okay now?” He asks, a little urgently.
Eri frowns a bit. “I gave him lots of head pats. But sometimes that doesn’t work. I gave him a hug, too, but…”
“But he didn’t want any hugs.” Megumi fills in, nodding.
Sometimes, Gojo will do everything possible to avoid human touch. He’ll make his personality as loud as possible, as if to fill up all the spaces around him like a barrier of its own.
“Yeah.” Eri agrees, looking down at the table.
Megumi stops himself from instinctively looking out of their little teacup and into the crowds around the ride for Gojo; he’s not prone to motion sickness, but even he doesn’t want to push his luck. He saw him plenty earlier. He hadn’t looked like he was on the edge of some kind of unspeakable madness. There had definitely been a bit of underlying anxiety to him, but he’d also been surprised by a time traveling kid. Megumi thought it warranted in this instance.
Megumi sighs, piecing it all together. “Was it his idea to go to Disneyland for the afternoon, too?”
Eri nods, confirming his suspicions.
So Gojo is trying very hard to avoid something, and is using them all as convenient distractions. It helps that Eri— and Megumi’s classmates— actually have enjoyed the outing, so Gojo gets to avoid his problems while still feeling like he’s being helpful. Hopefully that’s enough— it usually is— but without knowing what’s caused this sudden mood of his it’s impossible to say.
“You don’t have to go along with what he wants just because he’s the adult, Eri-chan. You can say no.”
God knows Megumi never agreed to any of Gojo’s shenanigans. They were always so outlandish and completely disrupted the hard-earned routine that Tsumiki and Megumi had clung to ever since their parents abandoned them. Gojo always meant well, even if he was just using them as distractions for his own problems— offering to take them on ski trips, beach vacations, or sometimes even less chaotic alternatives like skipping school for the afternoon to go to the zoo or the arcade. Most kids would have jumped at the chance to do any of that, but Megumi and Tsumiki had always valued the calm, insular oasis of normalcy they’d made for themselves. And Gojo only ever coming around to constantly disrupt that never worked out well for any of them.
“I know.” Eri replies. “But it’s fun. I like trying new things. And it’s not so scary, when Satoru’s there.”
Yeah. Eri is definitely a much better and more adjusted kid than Megumi was.
She’s definitely good for Gojo. And it seems like Gojo is good for her too.
“Yeah, he’s good for making things less scary, at the very least.” Megumi even smiles a bit as he says this.
Eri nods readily. “He’s the best at making things less scary. He can even make scary things funny!”
Megumi laughs. “Yeah, not always on purpose though.”
He remembers being very small, probably no older than eight, and also very, very sick. So sick he was actually a little worried that he might never feel better. Even Tsumiki had started to get concerned. And then Gojo had come barreling in with a parade of balloon animals and a clown horn, and Tsumiki had been so bewildered she’d actually shouted at him and shoved him out of the room. It was probably the first and only time she’d raised her voice at Gojo. He’d been too out of it at the time to really understand what was going on, but he did remember being confused by the balloon animals, and why the hell he’d come over with those instead of anything useful, like medicine, that he’d actually been so confounded he’d thought it was funny. He might have even laughed.
“It’s good you two seem to get along.” He says, after his mirth has left him. “He can be a hard person to be with.”
“He’s not very good at using his words.” Eri notices, startling Megumi into more laughter.
“He’s the worst at using words.” He emphatically concurs. He’s quiet for a moment. “...But he’s the best where it counts.”
“Mn.” Eri agrees. “The very best.”
//
Kugisaki gives a loud gasp, clutching at Itadori like a wet cat.
“What? What?” Itadori looks up quickly, from where he’d been hunched over on their shared park bench.
Kugisaki turns to him with wide eyes. “... Fushiguro just laughed.”
Itadori’s eyes grow just as wide. “No way!” He sits up straighter for a better look at the teacup rides.
Kugisaki points wildly. “There! He did it again! Did you see that?!”
“What? No! I missed it!” Itadori whines.
Gojo just laughs at both of them, sprawled at the far end of the bench, slurping down his soda. Despite laughing at their antics, privately he’s rather impressed himself. Getting Megumi to laugh is… a pretty impossible endeavor. He should know, he’s been trying for nearly a decade. He shouldn’t be surprised Eri managed it within moments of meeting the older boy. She’s a good kid, and she definitely didn’t get that from him. He supposes he has this Hawks person to thank for that.
He smiles to himself, although it doesn’t reach his eyes.
Maybe one day, if he’s very, very lucky, he’ll get the chance to thank him in person.
But the more he thinks on Eri’s mysterious situation… the more he suspects that’s a very slim chance indeed.
//
It hasn’t been a full seventy-two hours since Eri has found herself in this strange world, and while she hasn’t fully panicked yet, it was really only a matter of time.
The only reason she hadn’t had a meltdown immediately upon arrival was because a part of her had held unshakeable faith that Satoru would come and find her. Whether she’s in the past like everyone here seems to think, or if she’s actually in a different world entirely, like she thinks, she’d been sure Satoru would find her and save her, just like he always did.
But Eri is starting to realize that Satoru has been with her the whole time, and he doesn’t even know who she really is.
He’s a made up character in a made up world, just like all the rest of them, even if his name is different on the show. He can’t come and find her, because she might have accidentally erased him and her entire world from existence. And now that she’s finally alone again as Satoru trains his students, and Disneyland and the random shenanigans of Satoru’s students aren’t around to distract her, the thought hits her in full.
Once the thought fully forms in her head, she can’t stop the wretched onslaught of tears that overcome her.
There’s utter pandemonium from the track field, as training comes to a complete halt and three teenagers and a fully grown man run over to flail in hapless panic around her.
“— wasn’t me this time, I swear it—” Yuuji is squawking loudly.
“And it wasn’t me either!” Satoru protests, voice equally shrill.
“You two yelling about it isn’t going to help anything!” Nobara shouts, rounding on them.
“Same goes for you,” Megumi points out, far calmer and even-toned than his compatriots. That shuts the other three up quick.
“I’m sorry for bothering everyone.” Eri whispers, into her knees. “I just want to go home.”
She can’t even really remember what sent her into the fit that caused this rip in dimensions to begin with. But whatever it was, her quirk’s reaction to it has only made everything profoundly worse.
Can she even go home anymore? Or did she rewind that world until it didn’t even exist anymore?
“You don’t have to apologize—” Satoru starts, but she’s not listening anymore.
She starts sobbing all over again, pressing her forehead hard against her knees. “ I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry everyone…”
“Oh man, is she having a psychotic break?” Nobara asks, uneasily.
Yuuji gasps. “She’s not crazy! She’s just upset!”
“I didn’t say she was crazy, I just said she’s a bit psychotic!”
“... That’s basically the same thing!!”
“Okay, Megumi is right, none of this is helping,” Satoru cuts them off, voice finally serious. His students quiet down immediately. “Why don’t you guys go and train with the second years for now? We’ll catch up to you later.”
There’s muffled agreement and shuffling as the teenagers depart. Eri doesn’t even really notice, curled up in a ball on the bleachers. Satoru sighs heavily, sitting on the bench beside her.
“Eri-chan, I know you’re upset, but it’s going to be okay.” An awkward beat of silence passes, before he rests an uncertain hand against her back. After a few moments, the touch turns a bit bolder and more reassuring, and he starts to run his palm between her shoulders.
Eri sniffles.
Satoru sighs again. “I know you want to go home. I promise, I’m going to do my best to get you back there.”
“... But what if you can’t?” She asks, in a small voice.
His broad hand rubs at the base of her neck, warm and solid. “I’m the strongest, Eri-chan. I’ll figure it out.”
Eri wants to believe him. Satoru has never made her a promise he couldn’t keep.
(But maybe her Satoru had already learned, the hard way, what promises he can and can’t keep.)
Eri swallows down her tears, choking out, “But w—what if… what if it’s my fault?”
Satoru’s hand stills.
“What do you mean, Eri-chan?” He asks, slowly. “How could it be your fault?”
She hiccups, hands clenching against her knees. “W—What if my quirk erased everything this time? What if everyone and everything is gone? What if I destroyed the whole world? What if I’m stuck here in this world? Forever?”
“Uh,” Satoru doesn’t seem to understand the gravity of the situation here. He just sounds a bit bemused as he continues, “Eri-chan, I know everything seems terrible and scary right now, but I highly, highly doubt you’re capable of destroying the whole world. That would take… a hell of a lot of energy. I just don’t think a tiny pipsqueak like you has to worry about that.”
Oddly enough, that does serve to calm her down some.
Satoru is right. Even the doctor said her quirk might never grow into its true potential, because she’s too small and little and her childhood malnourishment might forever stunt her growth. There’s no way she’d be strong enough to rewind the whole world right out of reality itself.
Eri takes a shuddering breath, pulling her face out of her knees to blink watery eyes up at him. “You really think so?” She mumbles, hopefully.
“I know so. You might have flung yourself through time, but you definitely didn’t destroy the world.” Satoru assures her, looking relieved to see she’s stopped crying. “But… what is all this about a quirk? Is that what you call your powers?”
She reaches a wavering hand up to her horn. It’s not nearly as big as it was before she arrived here— a sure sign that she’d used up almost all her stored quirk energy to get here. “Yeah…”
Satoru frowns at her, thoughtful. “But it’s not cursed energy?”
She shakes her head.
“Then what is it, exactly? Do you think you could try to explain it to me?”
Eri blinks at him. Explain quirks? She doesn’t really know how to do that. Quirks are just… quirks. She’s lived her whole life with them as a fact of existence, and they haven’t really covered them in class yet, so she’s not even sure where they come from.
Gojo watches the little girl struggle to find the right words, wondering if it’s even worth the effort of stressing her out like this.
He really doesn’t think an explanation from an eight year-old is going to be particularly enlightening, but if it can help him figure out how she got here, even a little bit, then it might be useful in figuring out how to get her home. Truth be told, he still doesn’t have the slightest clue how he’s going to make that happen.
And, as it turns out, he doesn’t have to, either.
Before Eri can answer him he looks up sharply, as an impossibly fast and blazing energy signature rockets towards them.
The movement does not go unnoticed by Eri, who looks up as well.
Gojo stands up immediately, tugging off his blindfold and using the hand he still has on Eri’s back to pull her close and envelop her in the safety of his barrier. The monstrous energy grows in his Six Eyes, until it’s finally visible to the naked eye. The energy is unfamiliar and unlike anything he’s ever seen before, a twisted, ghoulish mess of powerful and clashing sources that shouldn’t be able to coexist like they are. The person(?) it belongs to is equally as unfamiliar to him. Or at least, he thinks it's a person. From looks alone, he seems like a regular young man. Probably only a little older than the third-years.
And evidently someone Eri recognizes.
“... Izuku-san!” Eri cries in joy, shooting to her feet.
“Eri-chan,” the green-haired boy says, sounding deeply relieved. And also desperately out of breath. “Oh, thank goodness I found you, I really wasn’t sure this would work…”
Eri moves underneath his palm as if she intends to leap towards the unknown boy, but the fingers Gojo curls around her shoulder stop her in place. She peers up at him in confusion. This stranger’s relief at seeing her— and her ensuing happiness in response— seems genuine enough, but that strange, curse-like energy of his is concerning.
The boy— Izuku— looks to him as well. If anything, seeing Gojo only causes his relief to grow tenfold.
“Oh, you found Satoru-san.” He breathes, happily. “Is that how you ended up here in the first place…?”
He seems to really look around then, eyes widening as he takes in the campus. “Oh,” he says again, recognition coloring his voice. “This is…”
“Izuku-kun, was it?” Gojo calls, drawing the boy’s attention back to him. “Are you a friend of Eri-chan’s?”
“Friend?” Izuku repeats, looking quite perplexed. “E—Eri-chan? I know her very well, but, uh, that is to say… I guess I would be more of your friend?” He looks deeply uncomfortable with the prospect, even though he was the one who admitted it.
“My friend?” Gojo clarifies, becoming a bit perplexed himself. He doesn’t have friends. Or he doesn’t anymore, after… He cuts that thought off abruptly. Either way, that’s even more suspicious. He can’t really imagine anyone voluntarily calling themselves his friend— not unless they were after something. “Is that so? Then you must know me very well, huh.”
The boy, Izuku, glances around at the school and says, wistfully; “Not as well as I would like.”
Gojo blinks rapidly. Then he gives a wide, rakish grin. “My, Izuku-kun, you’re so forward for such a young man~”
Izuku flushes up like a tomato, sputtering incomprehensibly. He scrubs a hand over his face, blush calming as he mutters; “You really haven’t changed at all, have you?”
Then he straightens up, a determined expression crossing his face. “Satoru-san, I know you don’t know me, and I don’t have much time to explain the situation properly, but I’m not here to hurt her. You can trust me. My only goal here is to return her to you— uh, that is, the other you— safely.”
“You say I can trust you, hm?”
He seems earnest enough, but Gojo’s still too out of his depth to truly feel comfortable with all of this. He knows far too little about the situation; how Eri came to be here, what her strange powers have to do with it, who or what this boy is, and how he managed to find her…
All he knows for certain is that Eri is his. And he’ll protect her at all costs— even with his life, if it comes to that.
He won’t just trust anyone with her safety, and certainly not someone he doesn’t even know (yet).
“Prove it.” He says, voice steely.
A frustrated expression twists across Izuku’s face. His hands curl into fists at his sides as he starts to mutter furiously under his breath. It’s so fast and convoluted even Gojo can’t make out most of it, but he does parse out, hundred and twenty seconds left, and I can’t just use a Star Wars quote, and weirdly, I don’t think a No Scrubs song will cut it either. Not very much of that made any sense.
Izuku seems to struggle internally with himself. His face is turning a very strange color, somewhere between the sickly pale of anxiety and the riotous red of pure embarrassment.
Then finally— and bewilderingly— he blurts out, in a stuttering voice;
“Y— You were always my one and only…” The mortification overtakes the nervousness as Izuku’s face does an incredible approximation of a tomato.
Gojo blinks rapidly. “Uh, kid, I’m flattered, but if you’re too young for me right now— then you’re absolute jailbait for my other self.”
“That’s not—!!” The poor kid wails, steam wafting out of his ears. He ducks his head into a gloved hand. He sucks in a sharp breath.
“Thank you for everything,” Izuku continues, and his tone is distant and distorted, as if these words are crossing through an unfathomable void. “And I’m sorry.”
Gojo suddenly feels very cold, a haunted look crossing his face as he recognizes those words with wretched familiarity.
(It’s just that in this world, I couldn’t truly be happy from the bottom of my heart.)
“You said that to someone, once,” Izuku rushes to say, expression growing forlorn. “And you told me yourself, that everyone inevitably has to say these words in their life. Thank you, and, I’m sorry … you told me it never gets any easier, no matter how many times you have to say them.”
Gojo stares at him with endless eyes and inextinguishable regrets.
Then he looks away, sighing deeply.
“You really do know me pretty well, it seems.” He says, defeated. “If I trusted you with those words, I suppose there’s no reason not to trust you now.”
Izuku smiles, but it seems Gojo’s old words have left their mark on both of them, because it doesn’t reach his eyes.
The green-haired boy gives a deep, respectful bow, head hanging low. “Satoru-san. Please, entrust your daughter to me. I won’t let you down.”
Gojo stares down at him, feeling his resolve crumble. Really now, what is he even waiting for? To be honest, he knew he could trust this kid, from the moment Eri looked at him with such effusive joy. Repeating the words he said to Suguru had just been confirmation of what he already knew.
Maybe a part of him just isn’t ready to let this little girl go, after she so abruptly turned his life around.
(But it’s not fair to keep her here, just because he’s lonely.)
“Ah, Izuku-kun…” He chuckles, but masks it as a cough into his fist. “Are you here to bring her home, or ask for her hand in marriage?”
Izuku sputters spectacularly, flailing upright so fast he stumbles backwards. “D— Definitely the former!!” He wheezes.
Gojo claps his hands. “Well, that’s a relief to hear! I suppose I’ll be leaving her in your care, then.”
Izuku mutters something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like, his sense of humor is as bad as ever, but nonetheless strides forward with a resolute expression. This time when Eri lurches forward, he doesn’t move to stop her. But he can’t stop his fingers from tangling in her hair one last time before she leaves him.
When he glances back at Izuku, he sees his gesture didn’t go unnoticed. He forces a smile onto his face, for Eri’s sake. “Bye Eri-chan! I’m sure I’ll see you again very soon, okay?”
“Okay,” Eri replies, with one last look back at him. For the first time since he’d met the girl, she shows him a smile. It’s small and barely there, but it makes his heart twist up nonetheless. “Bye bye.”
Izuku’s gaze hasn’t once left him, his features clouded with a complicated expression. He continues to hold Gojo’s eyes, even as he holds his hands out for Eri to take. “Thank you,” he says, solemnly, and Gojo sees the rest of it written clear as day in his eyes.
And I’m sorry.
He doesn’t need to hear it, anyway. He already knows.
He’s not going to be seeing Eri ever again.
//
“Eh, sensei? You’re alone?” Yuuji is the first to notice him, sitting up from where Panda had just sent him sprawling into the grass. “Where’s Eri-chan?”
“Yo!” Gojo raises his hand in greeting. With his blindfold firmly in place and an inscrutable smile fixed on his lips, it’s impossible to tell what he’s thinking.
He sticks his hands in his pockets as he hops over the low fence, striding forward. “Eri-chan went home.” He says, simply.
“Home?” Nobara parrots, blankly. “Wait, like, back to the future?”
Yuuji snickers as she says this.
“Not the movie!” Nobara retorts. “Ugh! You know what I mean!”
“I do.” Gojo assures her. “And yes, you’re right. She went back to where she came from.”
Megumi and Maki both look towards him curiously. “How’d you manage that so quickly?” Maki asks, sounding begrudgingly impressed.
“Oh, it had nothing to do with me at all!” He replies in a cheery voice, clapping his hands. “Turns out the situation managed to resolve itself without me! Isn’t that nice for a change?”
“Oh, yes,” Panda agrees, genially. “I was worried it would be the prelude to something disastrous like last year! Well, that’s good for Eri-chan. I’m sure she’s happy to be home.”
“Yeah, you’re right.” Yuuji concedes, although he still looks a bit glum. “Still, I really wanted to ask her a bunch of questions! Say, sensei, did you get to hear anything about the future? Oh! Did she say anything about Fushiguro? Is he married? Does he have a girlfriend?”
“Nevermind Fushiguro! What about me!” Nobara cries foul. “He better not have gotten married before me!”
Gojo laughs, spreading his hands out in front of him as he placates them. “I’m afraid she didn’t tell me anything of the sort! She didn’t say much about the future at all, in fact, which is probably for the best.”
She told me enough, and yet— it doesn’t feel like enough. It’s never going to be enough.
“Awh. It kinda feels like we barely got to meet her at all!” Yuuji complains.
“Have some patience, Itadori.” Megumi sighs. “You’ll meet her— in the future.”
Then he pauses suddenly, as if just realizing that he’s said this to the kid with an execution date hanging over his head. But Yuuji only sends his friend a blinding, pleased grin. “That’s true, Fushiguro! It’s something for me to look forward to, for sure. Isn’t that right, sensei?”
Gojo smiles. With his blindfold on, it looks as real as any other one.
“Who can really say what the future will bring, Yuuji-kun,” he replies, but the tone is all wrong. It’s not upbeat and mysterious at all, too hollow to be anything but wistful and full of regret. The students all turn to him, Megumi’s eyes sharp as ever as he tries to scrutinize him from beneath his blindfold.
Well. That won’t do it all. He fakes a dramatic sigh, holding his hands across his heart. “There’s really no telling what can happen! In fact, we might be meeting Eri much sooner than we thought! I might already be pregnant with her right now!”
“Sensei?!” Yuuji gasps, springing upright.
Nobara knuckles her classmate back onto the ground. “Sensei, don’t say things like that, this kid is dense enough to believe you!”
Gojo laughs uproariously. “Sorry, Nobara-chan! Yuuji-kun just makes it so easy sometimes.”
And it’s much easier to tease his gullible student than think about the reality that awaits him at home, and the reality that isn’t going to be awaiting him in the future. He supposes he’ll just have to donate all the clothes and toys they’d gotten at Disneyland yesterday— he’s never going to need them again.
What if I destroyed the whole world?
She never talked about time— just worlds. They all were the ones who jumped to that conclusion. But now, wherever Izuku and Eri came from, he’s fairly certain it wasn’t the future. Some alternate dimension’s future, most likely, but certainly not their own.
“Gojo,” Megumi’s voice pulls him from his thoughts. He sounds oddly serious, staring at him with a flat expression. “I’m hungry.”
Gojo tilts his head. “Okay? You want me to order something for you guys?”
“No, take me to lunch. I want somen.”
“Ehh?!” Both Nobara and Yuuji protest this immediately.
“What about ramen?” Yuuji whines.
“No!” Nobara cuts him off. “I only want udon!”
Megumi watches him with a heavy gaze, unyielding in the face of his classmate’s protests.
Oh, so it’s like that, huh?
Gojo bites back a smile. This brat… he can never just outright say he’s worried and he cares, can he? Well, that suits Gojo just fine. He’s no good at feelings either. “Sure, somen it is.” He agrees, obligingly, to Yuuji and Nobara’s dismay.
Predictably they decide to eat out with their upperclassmen instead, leaving Megumi alone with Gojo, just as this moody little brat intended.
“You don’t really think we’ll ever see her again, do you,” Megumi says, as they walk off campus together.
“Time travel is theoretically possible,” he says instead of answering, head tilted up to the sky. “... But not likely, in this instance.”
Not after what he saw of Izuku’s technique. He couldn’t tell you exactly how he did it, but that was definitely space he was summarily ripping apart, and time was only a small facet of that.
“Pretty sure she was from a different world entirely,” he adds, after a beat. “So my bet is some kind of parallel, alternate timeline.”
“World?” Megumi repeats, frowning. “Wait, why does that mean it has to be an alternate timeline, then? Couldn’t she just be an alien? If curses exist, why can’t aliens?”
Gojo opens his mouth to respond, then shuts it with a snap.
Huh.
Well, who the hell knows. He’s out here contemplating alternate universes— why the hell couldn’t she be a time-traveling alien instead? She even had a cute little Urusei Yatsura horn to prove the theory.
He chuckles. “Who knows, really? Maybe you’re right.” Then he turns a mischievous look Megumi’s way. “Say— you wanna make a bet on it?”
Megumi gives him a narrow-eyed glare. He looks like he’s about to refuse, but something stays his tongue. He rolls his shoulders, and gives it uncharacteristically genuine thought, considering how he usually flat out rejects all of Gojo’s attempts at mischief.
“Fine,” he says at length, to Gojo’s utter delight. He has a small, sly smirk on his face as he adds; “If I win, you have to wear a fake belly and convince Itadori you’re about to go into labor.”
Gojo is almost too stunned to reply. Then he howls in laughter. Poor Yuuji. He’s probably been fooled by this kid’s sulky face and thinks he’s just the silent and brooding type, when Megumi is, in fact, a total troll beneath that gloomy exterior.
“You’ve got a deal!” Gojo bumps their shoulders together, grinning widely. “Hmm… now what should I make you do if I win? Having you steal Nobara’s skirt and wear it for a week would be pretty funny, but I’ve already done that…”
Megumi squawks in protest, but doesn’t shy away from the contact.
Maybe he should learn a thing or two from his students, and have a little bit of optimism for once. He really doesn’t know enough about Eri’s situation to guess what really happened, but why does that automatically mean he has to jump to the worst conclusion? Maybe they’ll meet again in the future. Maybe it’s okay to hope for that, and to look forward to the day they meet again.
He said it himself, after all— who can really say what the future will bring?