[But when Gojo led you through twist after twist, turn after turn, and finally stopped at the destination, you froze.]
[This wasn't some grim morgue. It wasn't a secret compound buried in the upper echelons of jujutsu society. It was a run-down civilian apartment complex, borderline derelict, with an air of quiet abandonment clinging to every surface.]
[Beside a park slide streaked with rust, half-hidden in the shadow of an eave, stood a small boy.]
[He couldn't have been more than a few years old. His clothes were old and slightly too big for his frame, and his hair was a wild black explosion, sticking out in every direction like a sea urchin.]
[He watched you approach with the eyes of a stray cat. Guarded. Far too old for his face.]
[The instant you saw him clearly...]
["Hss..."]
[You sucked in a sharp breath. Your pupils contracted, and your feet locked mid-step before you could stop them.]
[The resemblance was staggering. The brow, the set of the eyes, the quiet hostility in every line of his expression. This boy was a carbon copy of the Sorcerer Killer who had nearly wiped both of you off the face of the earth. Toji Fushiguro, shrunk down and staring back at you.]
[Gojo stopped walking and tilted his head just slightly. He'd caught the micro-shift in your expression, and the look he gave you said so you see it too.]
[Then, in a tone so breezy it could have been a comment about the weather, he laid bare the identity that was carved into both your memories like a scar.]
["You noticed, huh? Yeah. This little brat is the biological son of the bastard who almost killed us both."]
[Because Gojo had framed the child as an "inheritance," you'd completely forgotten about the child Toji Fushiguro had entrusted to him.]
[Gojo strolled up to Megumi Fushiguro, hands stuffed in his pockets, swaying with that boneless ease of his.]
["You're little Megumi Fushiguro, right?"]
[Megumi looked up at him. Wary. Unimpressed.]
["Who are you people, anyway? And what's with that face you're making?"]
[Gojo dropped the unconscious sneer he hadn't realized he was wearing and cut straight to the point.]
["Nothing. Just thinking how you really are cut from the same mold. Your father came from a prestigious jujutsu clan called Zenin. Turned out he was a bigger delinquent than even I could pull off. Ran away from home and had you."]
["You can see curses, which means you've got Cursed Energy. Be honest. You've already noticed your own Cursed Technique, haven't you?"]
["The Zenin Clan loves nothing more than studying techniques. Most of their kids awaken theirs between four and six. Right now is the perfect window to sell you to them. You, Megumi, are the ace in the hole your old man prepared against the Zenin Clan."]
["Makes you angry, right? Well, your dad was actually killed by m..."]
[Before Gojo could finish confessing to the murder of Megumi's father, a young voice cut him off.]
["Not really. I have zero interest in knowing where that guy is or what he's doing. Haven't seen him in years. I don't even remember his face anymore." The boy's tone was flat, clinical. "But from what you just said, I think I get the picture."]
["Tsumiki's mom stopped coming home a while ago too. That means neither of us is useful anymore. The two of them probably ran off somewhere to enjoy themselves."]
[You stared at the boy called Megumi Fushiguro, watching him dissect the brutal reality of his own abandonment without a flicker of emotion, and you couldn't begin to imagine what kind of environment had forged a child into this.]
[One thing was clear. He was another casualty dragged under by this twisted world.]
[And now he stood face to face with the man who had killed his father, about to have his fate decided for him. "Twisted" was the only word that fit.]
[Gojo, too, had been caught off guard by the boy's composure. The flippancy drained out of him. He straightened.]
["You're... really a first-grader?"]
["Anyway. Whenever you want to know about your father, come ask me. His story's worth hearing, at least. But let's get to the point. What do you want to do? Move in with the Zenin Clan?"]
[Megumi didn't spare a thought for himself. His question went straight to Gojo.]
["What happens to Tsumiki? If I go there, will Tsumiki be happy? That's all I care about."]
[For a child abandoned so young, surviving on nothing but the company of a stepsister he shared no blood with, the calculus was simple. As long as she was safe, it didn't matter where he ended up or who he was sold to.]
[You glanced up toward a second-floor window nearby, where a girl was leaning out, calling Megumi's name.]
[That had to be the Tsumiki he kept mentioning. But you couldn't sense a trace of Cursed Energy from her.]
["I can say with certainty..."]
[Gojo was about to answer Megumi's question, but you beat him to it.]
["Nothing good. Forget happiness. In that den of vipers, she'd be worse off than she is now."]
[Something from the deepest layers of your first simulation must have surfaced, because the words came out before you could stop them, raw and serious.]
["Oh? You know your stuff, Haya..." Gojo turned, ready to rib you, and the quip died on his tongue.]
[Anger.. Genuine.. visible anger. An emotion he almost never saw on your face.]
["What's wrong, Hayase?"]
["Nothing."]
[The word was hollow, and everyone present knew it. Gojo didn't push.]
[But when he turned back to Megumi, another furious face greeted him. Smaller, younger, just as fierce.]
[The sight pulled a laugh out of him despite everything. He murmured under his breath.]
["What is this... you two even look alike when you're angry."]
[Still grinning, Gojo reached out and ruffled Megumi's bristling hair, like smoothing the fur of an offended kitten.]
["OK. I know your answer. Leave the rest to me. I'll cover everything."]
[Once Megumi had Gojo's explicit guarantee that all expenses would be handled, he let out a small sigh and grudgingly accepted the arrangement offered by this bizarre white-haired stranger who'd dropped out of the sky.]
[Then, the instant the tension began to ease...]
["But here's the thing."]
[Gojo's tone pivoted on a dime. With practiced ease, he seized the back of your collar and shoved you, completely unprepared, directly in front of Megumi.]
["The guy who's going to look after your daily life and teach you how to use jujutsu? It's this one right here!"]
[He jabbed a finger at you, shameless as ever.]
["Huh?"]
[You stood there, blank. You looked at Megumi, who wore the exact same stunned expression looking back, then whipped around to demand what the hell Gojo thought he was doing.]
[Confronted with your outrage, Gojo spread his hands wide and delivered his perfectly prepared cover story with zero remorse.]
["I'm busy!"]
[He pointed at his own nose, voice loud with theatrical indignation.]
["I'm officially the strongest individual alive right now! The higher-ups dump every suicide mission on my plate! I don't even have time to stand in line for dessert anymore. You think I can babysit?"]
[Then, with a flourish that belonged on a stage, he swung his finger toward you and addressed Megumi.]
["Besides, he's the perfect teacher! This guy's technique can perfectly replicate anyone else's abilities! He can copy your technique directly and teach you hands-on. He's basically a custom-built nanny... I mean, a custom-built mentor!"]
[Little Megumi looked between the two of you with the withering gaze of a child watching two idiots perform. Gojo, bouncing off the walls. You, wearing an expression that defied description.]
[With ice-cold precision, the boy delivered his verdict: "Do you people always decide other people's lives this casually?"]
[Your instinct was to argue. You'd intended to be involved, yes, but not like this. Not shouldering the entire responsibility Gojo was supposed to carry. Toji's dying request hadn't been made to you.]
[But when you turned, ready to refuse in no uncertain terms, your eyes met Gojo's.]
[And you stopped.]
[In that single second, with a clarity that cut through everything, you read the words he hadn't spoken.]
[He was afraid. Suguru was already gone. He was terrified that you would follow the same path, that you'd let the weight of some abstract "greater good" and the crushing guilt drive you into a dead end, the same way it had driven Geto. That you'd march toward self-destruction and never look back.]
[He was afraid you'd sink into that obsession and never surface.]
[This was Gojo's way. Chaotic, absurd, forceful. He'd barged into your life and dropped Megumi Fushiguro into your arms not just to save the boy.]
[He was saving you.]
[He wanted to anchor you to this world with something real. A life brimming with potential. A living, breathing person who needed protection. Something that would tether you here when nothing else could.]
["...Hayase."]
[Gojo broke the silence. The grin was gone. What replaced it was a tone so rare you could count its appearances on one hand. Rough with something that sounded like scolding, yet impossibly gentle underneath.]
["Stop spending every waking hour studying that godawful Cursed Spirit Manipulation."]
[The sentence hit your chest like a sledgehammer, and the shell you'd built, the one labeled pride, cracked down the middle.]
[You said nothing for a long time. When the silence finally broke, it was with a sigh so deep it seemed to empty you.]
[You gave up the fight. Your knees bent, and you lowered yourself slowly into a crouch until your eyes were level with the guarded face of little Megumi Fushiguro.]
[You didn't use Gojo's careless tone. Instead, you looked into the boy's eyes with a weight that felt like a vow. An oath you would never break.]
["I have to be upfront with you. I'm a mess. Bad personality, head full of dangerous ideas. I'll probably never be much of a father."]
[You reached out. He flinched away, but you rested your hand on his shoulder anyway.]
["But I promise you this. I'll do everything I can to make sure that in this twisted world, you at least have the power to choose your own life."]
[Little Megumi stared at you. He was too young to grasp the full weight behind those words, but something in him, some instinct deeper than language, told him you weren't lying.]
[Watching the scene unfold, the man who stood above all others, the strongest, lifted his chin. And for the first time in what felt like an age, a smile touched his lips. A real one. Quiet, easy, and unburdened.]