Chapter 6: What We're Fighting For
Even when the scenery was crowded with noise, all he heard was silence. Thinking about what had just happened a few hours ago was a lot for him to process.
Megumi sat alone in the corner of the hospital cafeteria, a cup of untouched coffee in front of him. The buzz of quiet conversations and the hum of kitchen equipment barely registered as he stared down at the table, eyes fixed on a spot that his mind couldn't leave.
Images kept flashing through his head—the twisted form of Mother, the shattered whistle, the blood that had soaked Shirou's clothes as he told Megumi to run. His fingers clenched into fists, the shame twisting in his gut like a knife. He could still hear Shirou's voice, sharp and unyielding.
"Go!"
He should have argued harder. He should have stayed. Instead, he'd run, dragging the two terrified girls with him, leaving Shirou to face that monstrous creature alone. And even though the nurses had assured him that Shirou was recovering somewhere in this very hospital, the sight of him—ragged and injured, walking into that storm of Cursed Energy—was a memory that wouldn't fade.
Footsteps approached, a pair of white sneakers stopping just at his side.
"Hey, aren't you too young to be drinking coffee?" Satoru's familiar voice cut through his thoughts, casual yet with a pointed edge of reprimand. Megumi glanced up to find his teacher giving him a relaxed smile, though his eyes held a trace of concern. "And what's with that sulking look, huh?"
Megumi let out a sigh, looking away. "I'm not sulking."
"Really? Because this sure looks like it," Satoru teased, grabbing a seat across from him. He leaned back, one elbow propped casually on the table. "Look, you don't need to worry. Shirou's a little scraped up, but he's going to be fine. Stronger than he looks, that one."
Megumi clenched his jaw, fighting the wave of guilt that rose up. "He told me to go," he muttered, more to himself than to Satoru. "I should have fought harder, helped him…"
"Oh, so he fought against that Cursed Spirit alone, huh…" Satoru replied easily, picking up a plastic fork from the table and examining it with sudden interest. "I mean, it was a great call though. You made sure the other children got away safely, and he took care of the Cursed Spirit at the same time. That's quality teamwork."
Megumi's eyes dropped even more after hearing how he left Shirou all alone. "I should've stayed… After I got them to safety, I sent my Shikigami to come back and assist him. He ordered me to go. At first, I thought I did what he said so that we could bring the girls away… but the more I think about it…"
Satoru then took a look at Megumi, more specifically, his hands.
They were trembling, slightly, which would mean only one thing…
"You were scared, weren't you?" Satoru's expression softened slightly, a rare glint of seriousness in his eyes.
No matter how gifted and mature Megumi was, Satoru could still see that he was just a six-year-old kid who had just experienced a near-death experience and also the first time he had gone up against a Grade 1 Cursed Spirit… something that would've killed a normal Sorcerer easily.
"That thing… smells like death, and Shirou didn't even falter or be scared. He just kept on going…" Megumi said to Satoru while trying to make his hands stop trembling, balling them up into fists.
"Well, I could tell you that sometimes… leaving isn't the same as abandoning someone, Megumi. Shirou told you to go because he knew it was the best way to keep you—and those kids—safe. If you'd stayed, things could be a lot worse than what it is now, trust me."
Megumi swallowed, glancing down at his hands. "That's not what I want to hear."
"I know. Then let me tell you this then…" Satoru's voice was gentle but firm, a strange kind of calm in his usual carefree tone.
"You feel like shit now because you felt helpless and scared. You think that you should've done this and that but overall, you didn't do those things because… you're too weak."
Megumi's brow furrowed, and broke through his somber expression. "Then… what should I do?"
"Get stronger," Satoru replied, giving Megumi a pointed look. "This is the time where you see that you have to be strong so that not only you don't feel helpless, scared and weak anymore… but also so that you can keep up with us."
Megumi looked away, but he couldn't help the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. For some reason, Satoru had a way of breaking through the dark fog that clouded his mind, shedding light on perspectives he hadn't considered. He didn't like admitting it, but Satoru's words had made him feel a bit lighter.
Satoru leaned forward, his usual grin back in full force. "Now, enough of this depressing mood. I'm gonna check up on Shirou real quick and see what the fuss is all about…"
Megumi gave him an exasperated look. "Why? Is he still being treated."
"Haha, nothing of the sort," Satoru laughed, standing up and motioning for Megumi to see. "He's all done… but it looks like he's waiting on someone."
Megumi paused, glancing up.
"Looks like he got himself a new crush, but I could've sworn he had a girlfriend…"
With that, Satoru walked out of the cafeteria and down the quiet halls of the hospital, while Megumi was left all alone with his dark and unsweetened coffee, pondering on all of the things that Satoru said to him.
She used to never experience dreams, only nightmares.
Nightmares about her mother and father leaving her behind, while she was left all alone inside a huge castle with endless winter clouding her vision.
But then, she no longer had nightmares, for a new life had been given to her.
Illya's first sensation upon waking was pain. It wasn't sharp or unbearable, but a dull, all-encompassing ache that radiated through her small body.
She groaned softly, trying to move her limbs, but they felt heavy, like lead. The sterile smell of disinfectant tickled her nose, mingling with the faint scent of something metallic—blood, maybe?
Illya leaned back against the stiff hospital pillows, her crimson eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. Memories of her past life began to unfurl in her mind like a tattered scroll, vivid and unrelenting.
She remembered the icy corridors of the Einzbern Castle, where she had grown up, groomed for a purpose she had never chosen. Her creators had shaped her entire existence, crafting her as a homunculus destined to serve as the vessel for the Holy Grail. It wasn't childhood—there was no warmth, no laughter, no fleeting moments of joy. Her world had been a cold prison, both figuratively and literally.
The Fifth Holy Grail War had shattered the monotony of that existence. She remembered the summons, the battles, and the confrontation that led to her demise.
She remembered her faithful Servant, Berserker, fighting to protect her with all costs against that blonde intruder who had an unlimited supply of Noble Phantasms with him.
A battle between demigods, and Heracles didn't become the victor.
She remembered their final moments together, his pained apology as he brought an end to her physical existence. Despite everything, he had treated her like a person, not just a tool. That memory was bittersweet, a rare moment of warmth in a life otherwise defined by sacrifice and loss.
And then she had died. The end had been cold, like slipping into an endless winter, but it had also been a release. She had thought it was over, that her story had ended in that broken world.
Thus her life had ended… and then a new one began.
Illya found herself here, alive and burdened with memories that didn't belong in this new existence. She raised her hands, examining the small, childlike fingers that was tinier than the body she remembered.
And then she began to recall this new life.
This body wasn't her original form—it belonged to a child who had lived a different life, a life far removed from the Holy Grail Wars.
She was no longer a Homunculus, but a normal child with no such thing .
She had been born to a loving couple in a normal town. They weren't like the Einzberns—there had been no manipulation, no ulterior motives. They were ordinary people, with kind smiles and warm embraces.
They were not a family of Magi. She didn't even have the ramifications of the artificial Magic Circuits all over her body anymore. She was just nothing but a normal girl in a normal body.
Her father had been a German expatriate who worked in Japan, and so was her mother, also a gentle woman who loved tending to their garden. Illya could still see their faces in her mind, their expressions soft with love as they doted on her.
They had called her "Illya" too. But no longer was her name "Illyasviel von Einzbern."
For the first time, Illya had experienced what it meant to be a child. She had felt the simple joys of running through fields, the thrill of chasing butterflies, and the warmth of being tucked into bed with a kiss on her forehead.
The feeling of parental love was similar to what she had experienced with Mama and Kiritsugu, but her new 'Papa' and 'Mama' were normal and far different.
She was no longer a Homunculus with a purpose, or a doll that was experimented, or a tool to be used in a war.
She was just a normal little girl, and after experiencing this newfound normal life, she had finally found happiness…
But happiness, as she had learned, was fleeting.
Her family moved to a new house, a two-story home inside a gated community with that quiet and relaxing scenery of suburban life.
It had been the worst decision she had ever seen in this life.
The memory of that night was sharper than any blade. She had been playing in the garden, the sun dipping below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. Her parents had been inside, laughing as they prepared dinner. It had been perfect.
Until it wasn't.
The air had grown cold, unnaturally so. Shadows began to lengthen, twisting and coiling like living things. Illya had felt a chill crawl up her spine as the first flicker of dread settled in her chest.
And then it had appeared.
The creature—Mother, it had called itself—emerged from the darkness, its form a grotesque amalgamation of limbs and faces. Its many eyes had glowed with malice, and its voice had been a haunting chorus of whispers and screams.
Her parents had rushed outside at the sound of her screams. Her father had tried to protect her, standing between her and the abomination, but he had been no match. Illya's mother had held her close, shielding her with trembling arms as the creature tore through their home.
"Run, Illya!" her mother had screamed, shoving her toward the woods. "Go!"
But she hadn't been able to move. She had stood there, frozen in terror, as her parents were torn apart before her eyes. Their blood had stained the earth, the warm, vibrant colors of her life replaced with the cold, dark hues of death.
After that her happiness was gone.
How long was it she had been in captive? How long was she forced to be living with many girls her age only to be abused and being played 'make-believe' by a monster?
It felt like an eternity.
'I knew it was too good to be true…'
Illya's breath hitched as the memory overwhelmed her, her small hands clutching the blanket tightly.
Illya took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions swirling within her. She didn't have all the answers, not yet. But one thing was clear: she wasn't alone.
And maybe, just maybe, she would find a way to hold onto the fleeting happiness she had lost so many times before.
A soft knock at the door pulled her from her spiraling thoughts. The door creaked open, and a nurse peeked her head inside.
"You're awake," the nurse said with a warm smile. "How are you feeling, sweetheart?"
Illya blinked, unsure how to respond. "I'm… fine," she said softly, her voice hoarse from disuse.
"Good, good," the nurse said, stepping inside and checking the machines by her bed. "You're a lucky girl, you know that? When they brought you in, you were in pretty rough shape."
"Who brought me here?" Illya asked, her voice stronger now.
The nurse paused, tilting her head as if trying to recall. "Don't worry about the details. Many have searched for you and the others. For now, please just try to get better"
The nurse felt a pang of sadness and sympathy for the small child in front of her. Her family was gone, she had been gone and lost for probably a year or more, and was just rescued.
This little girl had no one… except for that small boy that was waiting in front of the room.
The nurse only knew small details, such as a group of volunteers searched for the missing and lost girls of "Furoda Hills". She thought it had been a lost cause, but a miracle happened and they found them.
The little boy with white hair, who was waiting for hours outside of this room, was said to be one of the volunteers as well.
'How cute…' the nurse thought, while also thinking about the one that found this small, cute, and doll-like German little girl was a boy around her age as well.
Meanwhile, Illya had a different train of thought than the nurse who was checking up on her.
Her crimson eyes closed, and she let out a slow, shaky breath. She didn't have the answers, not yet. But if there was one thing she was certain of, it was this:
She wasn't going to let this second chance slip through her fingers. Whether it was fate, a cruel twist of destiny, or something else entirely, she was here now. Alive.
The rain outside continued to fall, but Illya's heart felt… different.
'This time, I'll live. For myself. For you. For us.'
Illya.
Her name had been a whisper on his lips the moment he'd uncovered her frail, broken body beneath the wreckage. The familiarity had hit him like a blow to the chest, a tidal wave of memories he'd thought he had buried long ago.
Back when he was Shirou Emiya, just an ordinary boy trying to save everyone, Illya had been many things to him—a complicated mix of adversary, sister, and ultimately, someone he had failed. She had been a victim of the cruel machinations of the Holy Grail War, caught in a destiny she hadn't chosen.
He remembered her smile, bittersweet and fleeting, as she had let go of her burdens at the end of the Fifth Holy Grail War. He'd never forgotten her crimson eyes, filled with sadness and longing, or the way she had whispered her last words, wishing for a life that could have been.
And then, as Heroic Spirit Emiya, the memories had persisted, but with a distance. He had been a Counter Guardian, removed from personal attachments, his existence dedicated to pruning timelines of catastrophe. Yet even in that cold, mechanical role, fragments of Illya's face had appeared in his dreams, a haunting reminder of the life he'd lived and the people he'd left behind.
But now, here she was, alive and tangible.
When he'd found her, crumpled under the weight of debris and fear, his heart had nearly stopped. Her fragile body had been marred with cuts and bruises, her clothes torn and soaked with dirt and blood. Her silver hair, a trademark of her lineage, had been matted and dull.
And yet, it was her voice that had gutted him.
"Please… help me…"
That small, broken plea had stripped away any detachment he might have clung to. The child before him wasn't the Illya he had known—she was someone new, someone who had been through unspeakable horrors in a world that didn't care.
The memory of her whispering the word "Berserker" in her unconscious state only deepened the ache. Did she remember? Had echoes of her past bled into this life as they had for him?
Killing "Mother" had been a battle unlike any he'd faced before in his newfound life. The twisted amalgamation of cursed energy, grief, and malice had been a walking nightmare, and he'd poured everything into his small and short body into defeating her.
But as he'd stood there in the aftermath, panting and bloodied, staring at the dissipating remains of the cursed spirit, it hadn't felt like victory.
His gaze had shifted to the girl he had saved, and the only thing he could feel was a heavy, suffocating sense of failure.
He sat in the stiff plastic chair outside Illya's hospital room, his fingers laced together, his head bowed slightly as if in prayer.
The quiet hum of the hospital machinery and the distant chatter of nurses provided a strange sort of backdrop to his thoughts. It was in moments like these, in the stillness, that his mind drifted to the weight of everything that had brought him here.
The memory of carrying Illya through the dark forest was still fresh. She had been light as a feather, her breathing shallow and ragged. Every step he'd taken had been laced with a desperate determination to get her to safety.
The hospital staff had rushed to him the moment he'd staggered through the doors, the sight of a bloodied, battered boy carrying a barely conscious child shocking them into action.
Since then, he had spent every moment waiting outside her room, not knowing what he needed to do after.
Now, as he sat there, staring at the cold linoleum floor, Shirou's thoughts spiraled deeper.
He couldn't help but compare the girl in that hospital bed to the Illya of his past life. Both had been robbed of their innocence, forced to endure suffering they didn't deserve. But this time, he had been there to save her—something he hadn't managed before.
The sound of footsteps broke him out of his reverie. He looked up to see Satoru Gojo striding down the hallway, his usual casual grin in place. His blindfolded eyes somehow seemed to radiate confidence, as if nothing in the world could touch him.
"Well, well, look who's still sitting here like a statue," Satoru said, his tone light but laced with curiosity. "You know, staring at the wall isn't going to make her wake up any faster."
He gave him a dry look but didn't respond.
Satoru leaned against the wall beside him, crossing his arms. "You've been here all this time, haven't you?"
"Yeah," he muttered, his voice low.
Satoru tilted his head, his grin fading slightly. "You really went all out back there, didn't you? Taking down that cursed spirit alone… Not bad for a kid."
The grip on his knees tightened. "It wasn't enough."
Satoru raised an eyebrow, his tone unusually serious. "You know as well as I do that blaming yourself won't change anything. That thing was a Grade 1 spirit, nasty enough to give even seasoned sorcerers a run for their money. The fact that you not only survived but managed to rescue her? That's impressive."
"Impressive doesn't mean anything to the people who died."
For a moment, the hallway was silent, the weight of his little brother's words hanging in the air.
Satoru eventually broke the silence, his voice softer this time. "Most of them don't make it back. The fact that this girl is alive at all? It's a miracle."
The two fell into a comfortable silence, and Satoru found himself glancing at the door to Illya's room again… this time, he removed his sunglasses.
"She's tough, you know," Satoru said, as if reading his thoughts. "I can tell. She'll pull through."
"What makes you say that?" he asked his 'big brother' while thinking about why Satoru was looking at her with intent.
"Shirou, you're asking like you don't know who I am! I can see everything, you know this!" Satoru gleefully proclaimed. "I think she's woken up now. Why don't you go inside and meet your rescued princess? She might fall head over heels for you, y'know?"
"I'm not waiting here so that I can see her. I just want to see if there's a family member that can pick her up as the rest of the girls that we found had some relatives or family members that was glad of the news," he said to Satoru while thinking about what would happen to Illya after being rescued.
"She's a little tricky, this one…" Satoru said. "Her parents were German expatriates. I talked with the authorities and such and they said they would contact Social Services first and also the German Embassy, see if she has any living relatives. But like I said, I think she'll be fine."
After hearing what Satoru said, his heart felt a bit at ease with knowing that Illya would be treated right.
"Should we go inside together? Perhaps, you'll need someone to chaperone, hehe," Satoru teased his little brother while ruffling his hair. "Don't you already have a girlfriend? You're starting off a little young to be a player here, you little snot."
One thing to know about this situation was that Shirou Gojo was really, really not in the mood for his big brother's antics.
He then swatted off Satoru's hand from his head, and then started to stand up from his sitting position.
"Enough of this. I just wanted to know her situation after she's treated. Now that we know she'll be fine, we don't need to meet her at all," his voice was stern and low, not reflecting the age of his body at all.
"Well, suit yourself. Come on, let's meet Megumi at the cafeteria," Satoru said to Shirou, who was starting to walk ahead of him.
With his little brother walking ahead of him, Satoru looked back at the room that they didn't enter, his Six Eyes were scanning it like a hawk, focusing with intent.
With that done, Satoru put on his sunglasses back, smirking a little in the process.
He knew for certain, that this situation wouldn't be the last time they saw her… because he kept looking at her… or to be more exact, her Cursed Energy level.
'Damn, her potential rivals that of Megumi's…'
The moon hung low in the sky, its silver light spilling over the quiet grounds of the Gojo compound as he walked through the gates alone.
Satoru had left him, citing the need to report back to Jujutsu High headquarters about the mission. Shirou hadn't protested—there was nothing he could do to speed up Illya's recovery, and if he stayed outside her room much longer, he'd only stew in his own guilt and frustration.
He needed to focus.
The compound was quiet as always, though its vast size gave it an eeriness that he couldn't quite ignore. It was a haven for Satoru's clan, but it was also a place with history—generations of sorcerers had trained here, fought here, and left their marks on its grounds. Shirou's footsteps echoed faintly as he passed the main house and moved toward the training hall, his mind already shifting to what lay ahead.
The last event had sharpened something inside him.
For a long time, he'd resisted the idea of fully dedicating himself to being a sorcerer. It wasn't because he lacked the ability—if anything, his natural aptitude and his Counter Guardian experience gave him an edge that even seasoned sorcerers envied. But the life of a sorcerer wasn't one he'd wanted to embrace. He had lived through lifetimes of combat, sacrifice, and regret.
When he had been Shirou Emiya, he had chased the ideal of being a hero, of saving everyone. When he became Heroic Spirit Emiya, that ideal had been stripped away, replaced with the grim reality of compromise and cold calculations.
But now, in this body, in this life, something had shifted.
The memory of Illya's small, battered form under the rubble haunted him. Her whispered cries for help, the broken look in her eyes—it was more than he could bear.
He had saved her this time. But what about the others? How many more children had suffered under the weight of curses, victims of forces they didn't understand and couldn't fight?
He couldn't save everyone. He had learned that lesson the hard way. But this time, he must save them... if not, someone like Illya would not even have a life at all.
That thought carried him as he entered the dungeon beneath the training hall, and he could feel the faint hum of cursed energy pulsing through the corridors ahead.
His smaller, younger body wasn't ideal for combat yet, but he was determined to push its limits. If he wanted to protect Illya, Megumi, and anyone else who needed him, he had to get stronger.
The first cursed spirit appeared as soon as he stepped into the corridor.
It was a low-level curse, its amorphous form writhing as it lunged at him. Shirou didn't hesitate. With a flick of his wrist, he activated his projection magecraft, and Kanshou and Bakuya materialized in his hands.
The twin swords felt familiar, like extensions of himself. He moved fluidly, dodging the curse's attack and slicing through its form in one clean motion. The spirit let out a shriek before dissolving into nothingness, leaving behind only the faint residue of cursed energy.
"That was too easy," he muttered, his voice echoing in the empty corridor.
He pressed on.
A humanoid curse with elongated limbs and glowing red eyes emerged from the shadows, its movements jerky and unnatural. It let out a guttural roar, lunging at him with claws extended.
Ducking under its swipe, countering with a precise slash from Kanshou. The curse screeched, its arm severed at the elbow, but it didn't retreat. Instead, it grew more ferocious, its attacks faster and more erratic.
He gritted his teeth, focusing on his breathing. He reinforced his body with magic, feeling the surge of energy strengthen his muscles and sharpen his reflexes. With a burst of speed, he closed the distance between them, driving Bakuya into the curse's chest.
The spirit let out one final, agonized wail before disintegrating.
He leaned against the wall for a moment, catching his breath.
He could feel the strain on his body, the toll of constant combat. His smaller frame wasn't as resilient as he was used to, and the repeated use of projection and reinforcement magecraft was starting to wear on him.
He summoned Black Keys, the ethereal blades hovering around him like a protective barrier. The keys shot out in rapid succession, piercing through the curses and pinning them to the walls.
But for every curse he defeated, another seemed to emerge from the shadows.
"This is what I wanted," he muttered to himself, gripping his swords tightly. "If I don't…"
He fought on, his movements a blend of calculated precision and raw instinct. Each swing of his blades, each burst of magical energy, was a step closer to honing his skills, to becoming the fighter he needed to be.
Sweat dripped down his face, mingling with the blood from a shallow cut on his forehead. His breathing was ragged, his limbs heavy.
And yet, when the final cursed spirit appeared—a towering, grotesque beast with multiple heads and a serpentine body—he didn't falter.
The fight was brutal. The curse was relentless, its attacks coming from all directions. Shirou relied on every ounce of his training, every memory of battles fought and won.
He reinforced his blades, pouring as much energy as he could muster into them. With a roar, he launched himself at the creature, slicing through its heads one by one until it collapsed in a heap of dissolving darkness.
The journey back to the surface was slow, every step a reminder of the strain he had put on himself. By the time he reached the compound's main hall, the first light of dawn was creeping over the horizon.
He collapsed onto the tatami mat, staring up at the wooden beams above him.
"I have to do this," he whispered to himself. "I have too..."
He thought about Illya and how that it was better for him not to meet her at all. It was better for her to continue her life as a normal and mundane girl without worrying about these types of matter.
Matters of Cursed Spirits, of Sorcerers, and of him… they should never creep into her life ever again, he thought.
Illya had been given a second chance in life, a second chance to find a warm and small share of happiness, but then a Cursed Spirit had taken it from her.
A promise kept into his mind that he would keep her safe… and also keeping a distance from her life.
With that promise etched into his heart, he let himself drift into an uneasy sleep, knowing that this was only the beginning of the path he had chosen.
The diner was alive with noise—clinking plates, the murmur of conversation, and the occasional laughter of children enjoying their meals. Satoru Gojo sat at a corner booth, his sunglasses perched lazily on his nose as he stirred a milkshake with his straw. He glanced at the clock on the wall, noting that it was five minutes past the time they'd agreed to meet.
"Still as punctual as ever," he muttered with a smirk.
Before he could finish his thought, the door chimed as it swung open, and a boy with snowy white hair stepped inside.
At 12 years old, Shirou had grown taller, his features sharper but still boyish. He carried himself with a quiet confidence, his movements precise and deliberate. Yet, despite his serious demeanor, he still had an aura of youthfulness due to his age that Satoru couldn't help but notice.
"There he is," Satoru called, waving him over with a grin. "The little prodigy himself. Took you long enough."
Shirou approached the table, his expression unreadable as he slid into the seat across from Satoru. "You told me to meet you here. I didn't realize we were on a timer."
"Relax, kiddo," Satoru said, pushing a menu toward him. "Order whatever you want. My treat."
Shirou glanced at the menu but didn't immediately pick it up. "You said you had something important to talk about."
Satoru leaned back, resting his arm on the booth's backrest. "I do, but first, let's eat. You've been training nonstop for years. Bet you're starving."
As they waited for their food, Satoru studied his younger brother, letting his mind wander back to the past four years.
After the mission to save the missing children, Shirou had thrown himself into training with a single-minded determination that even Satoru found impressive—and concerning. The boy's dedication to honing his skills as a sorcerer bordered on obsession, and while his growth was undeniable, it came at a cost.
Satoru had watched Shirou push his body and mind to their limits, often going without rest or relaxation. He was meticulous in his training, his eyes always fixed on the goal of becoming stronger, better, faster.
But somewhere along the way, Satoru realized, Shirou had missed out on something essential: his childhood.
The boy who sat before him now was skilled beyond his years, capable of facing curses that even seasoned sorcerers struggled with. But he was also too serious, too focused, and too burdened for someone his age.
Satoru couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt. He'd seen the same drive in himself when he was younger, the same relentless pursuit of strength. But he'd had moments of levity, a chance to be a kid, even if only for brief periods.
Shirou, on the other hand, had never given himself that chance.
Their food arrived, snapping Satoru out of his thoughts. He watched as Shirou methodically picked up his fork and began eating, his movements efficient and precise, as though even this mundane task was part of his training.
"You know," Satoru began, leaning forward, "you're working way too hard."
Shirou raised an eyebrow, not pausing in his eating. "That's rich, coming from you."
"Touché," Satoru said with a laugh. "But seriously, you're 12. You should be out there, causing trouble, pulling pranks, and doing whatever kids your age do these days. Not spending every waking moment fighting curses and training in the dungeon."
Shirou set his fork down, his gaze steady. "You're the one who said I needed to be strong if I wanted to keep up with you. I'm just following through."
Satoru sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah, I did say that. But there's a balance, Shirou. You're not just a sorcerer. You're a kid. You deserve to have a life outside of this crazy world."
Shirou's expression didn't change, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—doubt, maybe, or uncertainty.
"What are you getting at?" he asked.
"I'm saying it's time for a change," Satoru replied. "You're going to start middle school."
Shirou blinked, clearly taken aback. "Middle school?"
"Yep," Satoru said, popping the 'p.' "You're going to live with Megumi and Tsumiki for a while. Go to school, make friends, do normal kid stuff. You can still train with Megumi."
Shirou frowned, his brow furrowing in confusion. "You can't be serious. I have responsibilities. There's no time for—"
"Stop," Satoru interrupted, holding up a hand. "You've been carrying those 'responsibilities' on your shoulders for far too long. Trust me, the world won't end if you take a step back. Besides, Megumi could use some company. He's been complaining about how boring his life is without a sparring partner."
Shirou hesitated, his hands resting on the table. "This doesn't make sense. Why now?"
"Why not?" Satoru said, his tone softer now, "Hey, I never went to middle school. Always got tutors and such and that was boring as shit. Besides, rather than paying for babysitters or someone to check up on Megumi and Tsumiki, why not just make you live there instead, right? And you kinda need friends your age.
Shirou's lips twitched as though he wanted to argue, but he stayed silent.
Satoru leaned back, crossing his arms. "Look, I'm not saying you have to give up be lazy or something. But taking a break, living a normal life for a bit—that's not a bad thing. It'll give you a fresh perspective. Maybe even make you stronger in the long run."
Shirou stared at his plate for a moment, his expression had a look of disdain. Finally, he looked up, meeting Satoru's gaze. "Is it for me or so that you can decrease your budget looking out for Megumi and Tsumiki"
Satoru smiled, his usual cockiness tempered by genuine warmth. "Hey that's why they said "Two birds, one stone." And don't worry, I'll check up on you three from time to time."
There was a long pause as Shirou considered his words.
"I can't say no to this, can I?"
Satoru grinned, clapping his hands together. "That's the spirit! Trust me, you're going to thank me for this someday. Now after this, start packing your things, alright?"
As they finished their meal and left the diner, Satoru couldn't help but feel a sense of relief.
"Why should I thank you for kicking me out of the house?" his little brother talked with sass, not intending to play around Satoru's tune.
"Hey, it's better for you to start learning about living independently as well. I mean, we have servants and all the likes in the house. I don't want you to grow up to be a spoiled brat y'know?"
Shirou's path was still uncertain, but at least now, he'd have the chance to explore something beyond the weight of his responsibilities. And who knew? Maybe he'd find that being a kid wasn't so bad after all.
As they parted ways, Satoru watched his little brother walk off, a faint smile playing on his lips.
"You've got a bright future ahead of you, kid," he murmured to himself. "I just hope you don't forget to enjoy the ride."
Chapter 7: Days of Our Lives
Days like this were not hard to go through.
It all just felt like a routine that she was comfortable with, whether she was home or whether she was at school.
The bell rang, signaling the end of another school day. Students at Saitama Urami East Junior High began to shuffle out of their classrooms, chattering excitedly about plans for the evening or the weekend ahead.
Tsumiki Fushiguro, now a senior and one of the school's most admired students, sat at her desk, her chin resting lightly on her hand as she gazed out the window.
The sunlight streamed in through the glass, casting warm golden patterns on the classroom floor. Outside, the school grounds buzzed with life—students playing sports, others walking home in small groups.
It was a familiar scene, one she had watched countless times over the years. But today, her mind felt adrift.
She sighed softly, brushing a lock of her dark hair behind her ear. The view from her window was the same as always, but her thoughts were somewhere far away.
How long had it been since she found this life to be comfortable to begin with?
Her mind drifted toward her childhood, where she had been abandoned by her mother and her step-father from such an early age that she barely even remembered their faces.
Being left all alone with nothing but her step-brother.
Yet, she had never truly felt melancholy about her state of being. Tsumiki had always been cheerful, always found ways to look on the bright side, even when the world seemed unkind. She wasn't alone, not really. She had Megumi. Her younger stepbrother had been her rock, even back then, though he didn't quite understand it.
The memories of that time were fragmented—small hands clutching Megumi's as they stood together on the threshold of an uncertain future.
The two of them were a team. They leaned on each other, helped each other. It was that bond that had carried them through those tough early years, even as they started elementary school and faced the small cruelties and challenges that came with it.
And then… everything changed.
She remembered the first time she had met Satoru Gojo and his little brother, Shirou. They had entered their lives like a whirlwind, bringing with them a sense of chaos and wonder that neither she nor Megumi had been prepared for.
That day, Satoru had smiled and said something that changed the trajectory of their lives:
"Don't worry! From now on, I'm here to take care of you. Both of you."
Tsumiki's lips curved into a faint smile as she thought of Satoru. Despite his carefree attitude and endless teasing, he had been a pillar of strength and stability for them.
He'd been the one to provide anything they needed, from food, caretaker, and even pocket and lunch money for Tsumiki and Megumi to enjoy.
And then there was Shirou.
Shirou had been different from Satoru in every way. Where Satoru was loud and confident, Shirou was quiet and intense. At first, she hadn't known what to make of him.
He had been an enigma, someone who seemed much older than his years, as though he carried the weight of lifetimes on his small shoulders.
He reminded her of Megumi in that way. Both of them seemed determined to shoulder the burdens of the world, leaving little room for their own happiness.
But that was why she was here, was it not?
Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching.
"Tsumiki!" a cheerful voice called.
She turned to see her friend Fujinuma approaching, her bag slung over one shoulder and a bright smile on her face.
"You've been staring out that window for ages," Fujinuma teased, plopping down in the seat next to Tsumiki. "What's so fascinating out there?"
"Nothing, really," Tsumiki said with a small laugh. "Just lost in thought."
Fujinuma raised an eyebrow. "Lost in thought? That doesn't sound like you. What is it that you're truly looking, huh? I wonder…"
Fujinuma looked out the same window that Tsumiki had been staring as well, intending to find out what it was that her friend was kept looking on.
She looked down to see some sophomore students gathering around the football field, playing a friendly match of football together.
It was just a normal scene of a bunch of middle-schoolers playing and having a fun time together. Fujinuma thought that the scene she was looking on was nothing out of the ordinary.
But then, she looked at the one who was playing as the goalie.
His white hair was a stark contrast to the other guys that were playing, where they were sporting either dark or some with brown hair, his tanned skin also was slightly darker than most, and his height was significantly taller, sporting a couple inches more than the rest who were playing.
Fujinuma, being the socially aware person that she was, knew who this was, and also knew why Tsumiki was staring so much out the window.
The mystery was finally resolved, as the one that Tsumiki had her eyes on was none other than one of the most popular boys in this school; Shirou Gojo.
"Ahhhh, I see. So that's why~. Shirou is always such a looker, I don't think you're the only who's checking him out right now, hueheuheuhe~" Fujinuma teased her friend who was still just looking at the football game that was being played below.
Tsumiki's cheeks flushed at Fujinuma's teasing remark, but she quickly tried to wave it off, her voice calm despite the slight pink tint creeping across her face.
"It's not like that," Tsumiki said, her gaze lingering on the game below. "I was just… watching."
Fujinuma's grin widened as she leaned closer, resting her chin on her hand. "Uh-huh, just watching. Sure, sure. You know, you've got that dreamy look people only get when they're crushing on someone. So, spill it! How long has this been going on?"
Tsumiki sighed, turning to face her friend. "It's not like that," she insisted, though her voice softened as she added, "Shirou's like family to me. That's all."
Fujinuma raised an eyebrow, skeptical but curious. "Family, huh? You two don't exactly look related."
"It's hard to describe it… Shirou's family is like a… distant relative? Family friend? Something like that." Tsumiki admitted, folding her arms.
Satoru explained it to her in a really vague and roundabout way about how the Gojo family and the family of Megumi's father being related in some way.
"But we've lived together for years now. He and Megumi both."
Indeed, it was a surprising turn-around of events a couple of years back. Shirou just appeared in front of their duplex with his belongings and Satoru just proclaimed that his little brother would go to the same school and lived with them as well.
A surprising event, to be sure, but a welcome one for her.
Fujinuma blinked, surprised. "Wait, Shirou's living with you guys as well?! I thought it was just you and Megumi!"
"You never asked," Tsumiki replied with a small shrug, a faint smile tugging at her lips.
"Well, now I'm asking! What's it like living with Shirou as well? Most of girls always have their own theories that Shirou is this mysterious boy whose family is like rich mafia or something! I mean, Shirou's so… intense, and Megumi's, well, Megumi. Isn't it, like, total chaos?"
Tsumiki chuckled softly, her gaze drifting back to the window. "It's not as chaotic as you'd think. Shirou's actually really responsible. He's quiet most of the time, but when he's around, he makes you feel… safe. He's always looking out for us, even if he doesn't say much about it."
Fujinuma nodded slowly, intrigued. "I can see that. He's got that protective older brother vibe, even though he's a year younger than us. Does he clash with Megumi at home and you being the one who separates them?"
"No, nothing like that…" Tsumiki corrected gently. "They're always close... always go out together as well."
She smiled fondly as she thought of him. "Megumi's… stubborn. He likes to act like he doesn't care about anything, but he does. Deep down, he cares a lot—about me, about Shirou, even about Satoru."
Fujinuma tilted her head. "Who's Satoru, by the way?"
Tsumiki nodded. "Shirou's older brother, Satoru Gojo. He's the reason Shirou came into our life in the first place. He took us in when things were…" She paused, choosing her words carefully. "When things weren't great. He gave us a lot. That's why Shirou's staying with us as well."
Fujinuma leaned back in her chair, a thoughtful expression on her face. "Wow. That's… a lot to process. I had no idea your life was so complicated. You always seem so put together, like nothing could faze you."
Tsumiki smiled faintly. "I've had a lot of practice. But honestly, having them around makes it easier. Shirou and Megumi might be stubborn and a little rough around the edges, but they're my family. I wouldn't trade them for anything."
Fujinuma's grin returned as she nudged Tsumiki playfully. "Okay, but back to Shirou. You're telling me you've lived with him for years and haven't developed even the tiniest little crush? Not even once?"
A crush on Shirou Gojo? Someone who was very mature for his age and had such rugged good looks? Someone who had been living with her for years and treated her nicely and made her feel comfortable?
Tsumiki laughed, shaking her head. "No, Fujinuma. Like I said, he's family… nothing more."
"Isn't it hard to be the eldest female in the house with two little brothers?" Fujinuma asked softly, her gaze returning to the window. "You have to do a lot of things, like do most of the chores, and cook for them, and…"
"Actually, Shirou is the one who cooks most of the time."
That statement made Fujinuma almost fell from her place of sitting as the feeling of being surprised and shocked came all of a sudden.
"He cooks too?! The hottest, tallest, most athletic, and probably most eligible bachelor in this entire school, cooks as well?!" Fujinuma asked Tsumiki while being so loud, other students in the class started to look toward them.
Tsumiki had always prided herself when it came to her cooking skills. She started to be comfortable around the kitchen at such an early age, as she needed to be the one to made food not only for herself, but also for her little brother as well but then came Shirou.
The moment he first started to move in with the Fushiguros, Shirou made sure that the kitchen was his most comfortable place to be inside their small place of living.
When she first tried the food that he made, Tsumiki felt like it was the first time she had ever tasted food… and that made her small pride in her small heart torn to pieces.
Even Megumi was always looking forward to his cooking more than hers… that made her pride broke even more.
'I swear, I'd been the one to cook for him since we were kids. Never had Megumi look forward to my dish like the way he looks forward to his…' Tsumiki thought while being annoyed a little with this small piece of information.
"Yes… but I help too, of course…" Tsumiki replied Fujinuma's question while also being a little shy and feeling mixed emotion surrounding the issue… because my god, she couldn't deny that she always looked forward when Shirou cooked for them.
Down on the field, the game was still ongoing. Shirou, still in goal, caught the ball that was being shot toward his goal with practiced ease, his expression calm and focused. The other players cheered, patting him on the back as they dispersed and started playing again.
Tsumiki watched him for a moment longer, and then all of a sudden, she stood up from her place of sitting, surprising Fujinuma in the process.
"Hey, where are you going all of a sudden?" Fujinuma asked her friend, who was going toward the exit of their classroom.
"Going downstairs, I have… things I need to talk about…" Tsumiki replied while not looking back as her head was still looking forward toward the classroom's exit.
Fujinuma was dumbfounded a little, and then she looked out the window to see what Tsumiki had been reacting toward all of a sudden.
It was still the same scenery; a bunch of guys playing a friendly match of football after school was over… but then she looked at the one side of the goal, or to be more precise, a bunch of girls that started to gather there just to watch someone playing the goalie…
"Ohhh, so that's why… hey, Tsumiki, wait for me! I wanna see Shirou play from up close too!"
Days like this were a bit hard to go through.
For someone who was just an ordinary person, it just looked like a routine that a normal teenager would enjoy.
But for him, someone who basically had gone through life twice, or maybe a couple times more, it felt like something that he could not really describe.
He was now fourteen-years old and enrolled at Saitama East Urami Junior High as a sophomore middle-schooler, a stark contrast to what his previous life had been. Not when he had been living as Shirou Emiya, but back when he had become Counter Guardian Emiya.
He had been a safeguard for humanity, a calamity for some, but a necessary evil for most. As a lapdog for Humanity's Collective Will to survive, an agent for anything that it deemed necessary, and overall, a hellish experience for someone who just wished to save as many people as possible.
He had gone to hell, and now… he was playing football with middle-schoolers… as a goalie.
How did it come to this point, you might ask?
Well, it all started when his overall obnoxious big brother kicked him out of the house and made him live with two orphans… with one of their parents' death was because of his big brother's doing.
If someone had looked at such predicament, they would have called child services, or perhaps just felt sorry and empathy for whatever shenanigans Satoru had come up with.
But in actuality, he could find solace and peace with living with the Fushiguros more than living inside the Gojo compound with the rest of the branch members of 'his family'.
Many were against Satoru's decision to make him live here, as they had just started to see his 'growth' and 'potential', something that they thought to be a miracle due to his 'meager' Cursed Energy level.
But their worries and objections were not heard by Satoru, or to be more precise, no one dared to question Satoru's judgment as he had solidified himself to be the family head for not only being the strongest in the Gojo Family, but of all sorcerers.
Should he have been grateful for Satoru though? Not really.
In his mind, Satoru probably just wanted him to experience a normal life and be independent instead of being a spoiled kid living in a huge mansion with many servants… even though Satoru had been one, perhaps still was.
Where was he again? Oh right, playing a game of football with his classmates.
The game was mostly played around the center of the field, and him being the goalie made him just standing in front of the goal to watch over it from being scored.
He stood at the goalpost, his arms crossed loosely as he kept an eye on the game. The midfielders were busy scrambling for possession, and the ball rarely ventured near his area. He didn't mind. It gave him time to think—not that thinking brought him any comfort these days.
The sound of footsteps crunching on the gravel behind him pulled his attention away from the game.
"You're not here to play, are you?" Shirou called out, his voice carrying easily over the distance.
He didn't glance back to see Tsumiki approaching the edge of the field, her schoolbag slung over one shoulder. Her usual calm and warm expression was tinged with something contemplative.
Tsumiki smiled, shaking her head. "Not today. I just thought I'd come by and talk. Can I stand here, or am I breaking some sacred goalie rule?"
"You shouldn't stand there. Sometimes a loose ball comes along and can hit your face," he reacted a bit dry but chuckled softly. "Besides, we don't want the Student Council President to have her face being hit by a ball now, do we?"
Even with that warning she stepped closer, settling near the goalpost but out of the players' way.
"Don't worry, I'll be quick," Tsumiki replied. "And in a few months, I'm not gonna be the Student Council President anymore, so you don't have to worry about it."
"Whatever you say, President," he made sure to leave that mark behind for her to hear, as she was always annoyed when he called her that, but he found it a bit fun to tease her on it.
For a moment, neither of them spoke, the sounds of shouting and laughter from the field filling the air.
"You're getting popular," Tsumiki said after a moment, her eyes flicking toward the small group of girls gathered near the sidelines, all clearly watching the one who was playing the goalie.
He followed her gaze and shrugged. "It's nothing. They're probably just curious about the guy with white hair. Stands out, I guess."
Tsumiki hummed in acknowledgment, though her tone was teasing. "That, or they want to see the most eligible bachelor in our school playing football for once as he rarely plays any sport or even goes to any extracurricular clubs."
"They basically forced me to play as they were a man short… I think that was just an excuse because someone from the football club once saw me playing as the goalkeeper for gym class and I excelled at it," he explained and then arched an eyebrow at her. "But I'm surprised you thought of me like that."
"Like what?" she rose her eyebrow at him while brought forth her question.
"The most eligible bachelor in school."
Tsumiki was shocked; her cheeks flushed and then laughed, a soft, melodic sound that always seemed to make things lighter. "It's what the girls like Fujinuma nominated you to be, I just happen to be the one informing you of it."
"I think Megumi fits that title better, don't you think?" he let out a small sigh while still just standing, not having any action from the game whatsoever.
"I guess, the males living with me are really too popular for their own good," she replied while sporting her usual smile.
Tsumiki's smile then faltered, and she glanced down at the ground for a moment before looking back at him. "I've been thinking about the future. About what's next."
"For you?" he asked, leaning back slightly against the goalpost.
Tsumiki nodded. "Yeah. This is my last year here, you know? After this, it's high school. I have figured out where I'm going."
"The school you talked about once?" Shirou said, his tone matter-of-fact. "I thought it wouldn't accept admissions if you were not enrolled in their middle school."
"I thought so as well, but turns out they accept special admissions for those that are high-achieving and has a stellar experience in junior high." Tsumiki gave him a small smile, but there was a hint of uncertainty in her eyes.
"Stellar experience, huh…" he repeated, his brow furrowing slightly. "Well, you being the Student Council President certainly fit that, but are there other requirements?
"The usual; Straight A grades, achievements, and I need to submit an essay about my background and aspirations," Tsumiki said, her voice did not gain a touch of determination. "That last one is a bit hard, considering I'm an orphan with a 20-something year-old as a legal guardian. Doesn't exactly sound like a model student coming from a prestigious or highly-achieving family, does it?"
That part could be hard for one to hear, Tsumiki Fushiguro had truly been a model student all throughout her life in junior high, but her background of being an orphan living with her step-brother and their legal guardian was overall, not exactly a stellar adult as well.
He remembered the time when Satoru picked up their rapport cards.
"As their big brother and the backbone of the family, it's been very hard finding time to raise them while working multiple jobs at once. Rest assured, though! They really are good kids and all of their needs are provided by little-old me~"
He remembered that Satoru kept repeating that line three times to three different homeroom teachers, making it sound like they were barely making it through… even though it was the polar opposite.
"It's one of the best and most prestigious schools in Tokyo, so their requirements can be hard to be met," he said, while no longer thinking about his big brother's absurdity. "But perhaps, with your background and all, it can be an inspiring experience that you can write about and touch the ones who read it. But why are you so fixated to go there?"
"Megumi will be in Tokyo when he graduates, and you too, right? You're both planning to attend that… exclusive vocational school that you and Satoru talk about. If I go to Tokyo, I want to be close and we all can still see each other…"
He blinked, caught off guard by the honesty in her words. For a moment, he didn't know what to say.
"I mean," Tsumiki added quickly, her cheeks coloring slightly, "it's not the only reason. Tokyo has some of the best schools, and it's a chance to experience something new. But… I want to make you proud… all of you! Yeah. That's part of it."
He let out a breath, his expression softening. "Tsumiki, you don't have to make decisions based on us."
For years, he and Satoru had been guarding a secret about Megumi being a Sorcerer, about the world of Jujutsu as well, as Megumi was very adamant that he did not want Tsumiki to know or be a part of it.
He and Megumi had been training with Satoru for years as well, not telling her that they were fighting Cursed Spirits and training their abilities to her, just saying it to be a 'man-trip' or something.
Tsumiki didn't question it, as she was happy that all of them were in her life to begin with. But deep down, she knew they were hiding something from her… and it made her feel left out.
"I can be a little greedy, right? I want to go to the best school while also being near Megumi and you," Tsumiki tilted her head, a thoughtful smile tugging at her lips. "And what if what I want is to stay close to the people who matter to me?"
Before he could respond, the ball came hurtling fast. It was a powerful shot from afar, but because of said distance, it wasn't going toward the goal, but toward Tsumiki instead.
Instinct took over, and he lunged to catch it in such a fast and instant manner that anyone watching didn't have time to react, his left hand closing around it with ease.
The players cheered, and one of them called out, "Nice save, Gojo!"
The girls who had been watching him play was a little bored and downright jealous that all Shirou Gojo, arguably the most popular boy in school, was doing was just standing and talking to Tsumiki Fushiguro, who was arguably the most popular girl in school as well.
Shirou Gojo was always the topic for the girls to talk about. As someone whose facial features were unique and head-turning like his white hair and tanned skin, with also physical features such as his height being taller than most, and also his very defined abdominal muscles that they were able to sneak a peek in during gym class, of course, he was popular.
But Tsumiki Fushiguro, being someone who was called 'naturally beautiful' with her being quite tall, developed physical features, and sporting a cute face while also being a model student and the student council president, was equally as popular for the populace of this junior high.
For them to be spending time together not only was being opinionated to be 'perfect for each other' or 'dream couple', but also a target of jealousy for most as well. And now, in this football game, with Shirou saved Tsumiki from a loose ball that was about to strike her, made the crowd a bit wild.
Some shouted "Kyaaaaa!" others had a different reaction such as, "Damn it! It just had to be him/her!" the rest just shouted other kinds of words that were not audible.
He tossed the ball back into play, turning his attention back to Tsumiki. "I warned you it was dangerous for you to be standing there."
"Right… you did," she nodded, agreeing with his statement while still being a little shocked with what had just happened.
Her face was more than flushed, her heart was beating loudly, and her eyes were looking at him more intently as her line of thought after being shocked by the loose ball was how fine he looked with his hair down due to playing this game for awhile.
He studied her for a moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, he said, "That means you should step aside now, and not just stand there looking like an idiot."
"That's quite rude of you, Shirou," Tsumiki pouted, her bearing was growing and no longer was she just standing in a dumbfounded way. "Thank you, by the way…"
He didn't reply, but just hummed along after Tsumiki thanked him.
The game continued behind them, but he hardly noticed. For a moment, the weight of his complicated past and uncertain future seemed to fade, replaced by the simple, grounding presence of the present.
As Tsumiki was about to go away from the goal post, someone shouted something that made the game stopped midway.
"Yo, guys! Megumi is beating the crap out of people, again!"
That made both him and Tsumiki to sigh and release a heavy breath in the exact same manner and in the exact same time.
"We should check that out, don't we?" Tsumiki asked.
"Whatever you say, President…"
Days like this were really hard to go through.
It wasn't like it was one of those days that made you not want to go up, or one of those days where there was so much going on.
Not because they were particularly challenging or taxing—far from it. But because days like this meant dealing with people who didn't know when to back off.
People who didn't know how to leave others alone. People who thought they could push others around just because they were bigger or had numbers on their side.
The field was quiet now, save for the faint groans of the defeated gang of bullies sprawled across the ground.
Megumi Fushiguro sat casually on top of one of the unconscious boys, his expression neutral as he rested his chin on his hand. He looked as though he were bored rather than having just taken out an entire group of would-be tough guys.
Megumi sighed, closing his eyes briefly. It wasn't like he went looking for fights. In fact, he avoided them… sometimes.
But most of the times, idiots insisted on crossing lines they shouldn't. And when that happened, well… he wasn't the type to just stand by and let it happen.
"Do you guys know the basic rule you have to follow to get along with strangers?" he started his monolgue, not even glancing at the unconscious bodies around him. His uniform was spotless, not a scratch or speck of dirt on it, as though he'd just stepped out of class.
One of the boys groaned, trying feebly to get up. Megumi's sharp eyes flicked toward him, and the boy immediately slumped back down, deciding it wasn't worth the effort.
Megumi sighed again, this time louder. "I don't."
"'I will not kill you, so please don't kill me either.' You can replace "Kill" with whatever you want," Megumi continued with an unreadable expression.
"Basically, you draw a line so that you're able to respect one another's dignity. Through this process, both parties can make this 'rule' a reality," no one was listening to him as he continued his point, as they were below him in a state of pain.
"Breaking it, or being arrogant enough that you don't need it…" he then started to stand, not sitting on the back of his opponents anymore. "…must have felt really pleasant."
"So, I'll kill you if you do that in front of me again."
Megumi didn't look backward while saying it, not even caring anymore if they had even listened to his way of thinking.
"What did we… ever do to you?" one of the guys that Megumi beat up asked him, while he just kept on walking.
He wasn't proud of what he'd done, but he wasn't exactly ashamed either. These guys had been harassing some younger students—first with words, then shoving them around. Megumi had stepped in to tell them to stop. They hadn't taken him seriously, and, well… things had escalated.
"Think for yourself," he answered while kept looking forward as a faculty member was coming to the scene of chaos. "That, or go die."
Of course, Megumi got reprimanded for beating these wannabe thugs and bullies by the faculty member, but he didn't care one bit.
After some talking, Megumi walked out of it with no punishments whatsoever, as it was a ridiculous scene to even fathom; a single sophomore beating half a dozen of seniors and their lackeys.
Megumi kept walking, entering the school building with no care whatsoever. He then passed three students; the ones that got hassled by the group of bullies a few moments before Megumi 'intervened'.
"To-to-to-today I'll definitely Ikezawa and the others that I'm not their errand boy!"
"Good luck, Aidashi!
"But I may become their next target after you, so don't luck out, Aidashi!"
Megumi passed them without acknowledging them or what he did or anything whatsoever, he just kept walking past them while his hands were on his pocket.
"Fuck you, you fatass! I've changed my mind, I'll tell them that this damn fatso is gonna replace me from now on!"
"You would sell out your own friend, Aidashi?!"
"Guys… aren't Ikezawa and his gang knocked out over there…?"
In the end, the ones he saved were not even worth the trouble to begin with. 'Idiots, all of them…' he thought as he walked away from them and from the crime scene he had created.
"Megumi!" Tsumiki's exasperated tone reached him first. Megumi groaned internally.
'Great. Just what I needed,' he thought while looking back at Tsumiki, who was standing with a scowl on her face and holding a small carton of milk.
Of course, being the obedient and loving brother that he was, Megumi replied back with the same manner of scowl on his face.
"Something that you want, Student Council President?" Megumi asked sarcastically while lacing his voice with a not-so friendly attitude.
Of course, being the caring and loving sister that she was, Tsumiki scowled even more after hearing Megumi's question.
"I thought you said you wouldn't fight anymore," Tsumiki said to her brother in an assertive voice.
Her line of assertiveness certainly made Megumi scowled even more as well. All in all, both Fushiguro certainly had a bad mood at this time around.
"Don't act like you're my guardian," Megumi replied, lacing his voice with more animosity.
In his mind, Megumi had done what he'd done because he saw something that was one of the things that he hated the most; bad people.
Megumi hated 'bad people', they disgusted him to the very core; those with empty imagination and lack of sensitivity, acting like they were superior for it.
When he saw Ikezawa and his group of thugs just harassing other students that were weaker than them, Megumi couldn't control himself and let them had a taste of their own medicine.
But then, Tsumiki came to berate him for it. This was also classified as one of the things he hated the most as well; 'good people.'
For Megumi, 'good people' could forgive 'bad people' and act as if forgiving others was such a dignified thing to do. Basically, he couldn't stand it, and he couldn't stand them as well.
'Tsumiki is a typical good person.'
"You gross me out," Megumi summarized his disdain toward Tsumiki with those words and said it to her while turning his back against her, not wanting to argue even further.
All of a sudden something hard and wet hit him on the back of Megumi's scalp. It did not hurt him whatsoever, but he was certainly shocked.
"Ah, sorry…" the one who apologized was none other that Tsumiki, the culprit who had just thrown her small milk carton that was opened and was not empty. "I thought I finished it."
Megumi knew he had crossed the line a little by telling his sister that he 'grossed him out'. A reaction like this was understandable, but when he heard her apologizing, it just solidified his stance on his disdain with 'good people'
"What happened to the milk you just got from the vending machine?" Out of nowhere, a manly voice was heard coming from the corner and lo and behold, this guy appeared.
Megumi knew he wasn't just some guy, he'd heard this deep voice often from the duplex he'd been staying for most parts of his life.
His white hair, tanned skin, and a bit of sweat that he was mustering around his face… it was all too familiar.
'Great, and he appears as well,' Megumi thought while looking at the man appearing beside Tsumiki; Shirou Gojo, someone who he'd known for ages.
"Uhmm… it's there…" Tsumiki replied his question while stammering a bit and pointing at Megumi's wet head.
He looked at Megumi with his eyebrows a little, and Megumi only narrowed his eyes even further.
"If you want to punish your brother for fighting again, don't you think that's a little much?" he said.
"I thought there wasn't any milk anymore! I just wanted him to take his promises to me more seriously, and it just… ughhh." Tsumiki tried to defend herself.
Everything that he just said made Megumi scowled even further.
"'Punish'? 'Promises'? Stop acting like you're my parents. Both of you are acting like you're so mature and all, but in the end, it only makes me sick," Megumi voiced his disdain, looking at both of them with narrowed eyes and lacing his voice with more strain.
"You're the one who got into trouble, so of course we have to be the mature ones considering this isn't your first time, or second time, or third…" Shirou Gojo replied Megumi's disdain with his own sarcasm and lack of delicacy.
"And what would you have done in my place?" Megumi asked him straight on.
"I would have minded my own business, considering most of your fights are not because people are harassing you, but because you don't like how they act in front of you and trample on others… I'm guessing that today's circumstances were the same thing, were it not?"
It really grinded his gears to hear that he always guessed the right thing, and always acting all high and mighty from Megumi's point of viewing.
"You really are a hypocrite. Perhaps you should look in the mirror and see that you're the one who always meddle in someone else's affairs," Megumi walked toward him slowly while looking at him dead on.
"Ever since we were kids, ever since we went out the first time together, ever since you moved in with us…" Megumi elaborated further. "You think you always know the answer and tell us what to do, but clearly, you don't do it yourself."
Shirou Gojo had always been a weird one, ever since they were kids and even until up to this point in Megumi's eyes.
He was the top of the food chain on the kind of what kind of people that he hated; 'good people' that acted like they weren't. Someone who wasn't true to himself, someone who always told people to do the 'mature' thing while he did the 'right' thing; a hypocrite all through out.
Every time Megumi looked at the person who was named 'Shirou Gojo', it was like looking to the mirror and seeing someone like him, someone with conviction, but at the same time, someone who didn't want others to live out said convictions.
A mature man that felt like he'd lived more than him, had many experiences, acting like he was the oldest in the room, even though Shirou was the same age as him…
It made Megumi comfortable that he wasn't like the others, that he was trustworthy, wise, had a sound mind, and had all the answers, but at the same time, it made him sick looking at his stupid white-hair and his stupid tall visage.
Shirou looked at Megumi dead on as well, not breaking eye contact with him whatsoever.
"You're right… perhaps I should be like you and act like a brat acting out."
That made Megumi grinded his teeth and made a fist.
"Both of you stop it!"
It was a shout that deafened both of the males' ears, a cry of desperation, begging, and command all in once, coming from the only female there.
They both looked at Tsumiki who was basically on the verge of tears.
"We've known each other since we were little, we've both been living together for years… I don't want to see us fighting… I don't want this…" Tsumiki poured her heart out for Megumi and Shirou to hear.
It kind of made them feel a little guilty.
"…fine, whatever. Sorry, I guess." Megumi muttered those words softly, like it was out of reflex.
"No, the fault is on me. I just judged too quickly and told you things that you didn't want to hear," Shirou's voice was more direct and clear, making himself the bigger man and took all of the responsibilities.
It was a really turn around of events as they both just folded from their animosity, all clearly because of Tsumiki.
"Just… don't fight. If you both want to direct animosity, direct it towards me, not on each other," Tsumiki said while no longer being on the verge of tears, but her voice was still softer than them,
This… this was exactly why Megumi hated people like Tsumiki, who barely had any faults yet were willing to put the blame on herself and not on others.
"Tch… whatever," Megumi uttered those words while putting his hands on his pockets, walking away from them in the process.
Megumi had enough of this situation, just wanting to be at peace now and be done with it.
"Tsumiki!"
All of a sudden, a shrill and feminine voice was heard coming from the corner.
It was Tsumiki's friend, Fujinuma, who joined all there of them standing in the corridor.
"The hell are you two even doing?! Oh- Hey, Shirou! I thought you were playing football but when I got there, you and Tsumiki weren't there, teehee~" Fujinuma said with uncertain tone of voice, as it just went downward and upward at the same time.
"I was just done and we checked up on Megumi, that's all," Shirou answered, summarizing everything short and simple.
Megumi walked away from them, not intending to be in their vicinity any longer.
"Oh, hey Megumi, ciao!~" Fujinuma said to Megumi's visage, who was walking away, and then blew a kiss toward him.
Megumi did not have any reaction whatsoever and continued to walk away from them. They then started to converse while Megumi just listened to their voices coming from his back.
"By the way Tsumiki, are you going to take the test of courage or what?" Megumi heard Fujinuma asked his sister, but he just kept walking and not showing care on the matter.
"Don't want to, but I'm worried and considering the new Student Council members are going to attend, so I'll go," he heard Tsumiki answering her.
"What's this about a 'test of courage'?" he then heard Shirou as well.
"It's kind of like an old 'rite of passage' for new Student Council members and also a goodbye for those who are leaving. It depends whether we vote yes on the matter or not. Some years they—"
Megumi walked away even further from them. The topics they were discussing were not being heard any further.
He only just heard about the 'rite of passage' that Tsumiki was going to go to that night and had no care about it whatsoever.
All in all, it had been a day in his life that he thought would never be mentioned again.
Oh, how wrong he was.