[ it must come as no surprise when megumi's focus flickers to satoru for a second who inclines his head none too subtle, not wanting to be, wanting sukuna to know megumi goes to him because gojou satoru has indeed directly allowed him to do so. likewise it comes perhaps as no to little surprise when megumi stays silent, letting gojou answer: "would you believe, on the street?" what satoru does not say: that the child he picked up was the epitome of a bristling black kitten and that the megumi who stands here tonight is still that odd sort of feline finessed and hardened in his own right by the articulation of a world that requires his fluency.
in another time, megumi would have as soon been an untouchable courtesan and satoru has told him as much through jokes, and once, as a warning of what he could have become even now -- this modern ugly beautiful world of those who control and those who are controlled, whether they know it or not.
megumi goes to sukuna with steps not delicate yet somehow distinct, and the absolute purposefulness with which he stops just shy of easy reach is...well, not so much of a risk. he by no means is testing sukuna; it is more that he thinks this is good enough and knows already if it is not, he will be made informed s such. this is simply how the unwritten dynamics of such a meeting tend to go; he has been to enough that went actually south to know this is nowhere near that. satoru does want him to be liked, to be admired, and to be let in; it seems to be working; so? good enough. yet neither megumi nor satoru are blind; how much of this is sukuna also allowing them in return, they cannot say, but it is at least understood: no one here is as oblivious as they allow the cards to sometimes say.
it is not, however, megumi thinks, his fault if sukuna lets him in tonight or a month from now to his detriment. and maybe some of megumi's father yet exists in him whether he knows or remembers him or not: the sense that he can do something despite most odds saying otherwise. of course for fushiguro toji it ended in an early death.
for megumi?
he can't quite imagine a future, if he's honest.
it isn't as sad as it should be.
on the street satoru says and megumi thinks wryly: in an alley more like.
stray.
a soft inhale brings again sukuna's scent of sandalwood and something else almost more like fire. the taste is not unpleasant. and megumi's eyes end up focusing on the ink around sukuna's nearest bared wrist. he wonders if they mean anything or nothing; he wonders if it hurt; he wonders if anything hurts this man who is almost myth inside and outside of the city of gangs and people who pretend it is otherwise. ]
no subject
in another time, megumi would have as soon been an untouchable courtesan and satoru has told him as much through jokes, and once, as a warning of what he could have become even now -- this modern ugly beautiful world of those who control and those who are controlled, whether they know it or not.
megumi goes to sukuna with steps not delicate yet somehow distinct, and the absolute purposefulness with which he stops just shy of easy reach is...well, not so much of a risk. he by no means is testing sukuna; it is more that he thinks this is good enough and knows already if it is not, he will be made informed s such. this is simply how the unwritten dynamics of such a meeting tend to go; he has been to enough that went actually south to know this is nowhere near that. satoru does want him to be liked, to be admired, and to be let in; it seems to be working; so? good enough. yet neither megumi nor satoru are blind; how much of this is sukuna also allowing them in return, they cannot say, but it is at least understood: no one here is as oblivious as they allow the cards to sometimes say.
it is not, however, megumi thinks, his fault if sukuna lets him in tonight or a month from now to his detriment. and maybe some of megumi's father yet exists in him whether he knows or remembers him or not: the sense that he can do something despite most odds saying otherwise. of course for fushiguro toji it ended in an early death.
for megumi?
he can't quite imagine a future, if he's honest.
it isn't as sad as it should be.
on the street satoru says and megumi thinks wryly: in an alley more like.
stray.
a soft inhale brings again sukuna's scent of sandalwood and something else almost more like fire. the taste is not unpleasant. and megumi's eyes end up focusing on the ink around sukuna's nearest bared wrist. he wonders if they mean anything or nothing; he wonders if it hurt; he wonders if anything hurts this man who is almost myth inside and outside of the city of gangs and people who pretend it is otherwise. ]