[ the threat that is not a threat but is also kind of a threat...does not do much for megumi in any way. "a week" is loose terms even with paper, and there wasn't a single sheet used in this case, not a tear-off scrawl, not a drop of ink. everything here is on some kind of honorless honor, integrity at its most primitive and yet organized too. in one life: an exorcist, in another a bird in a cage, still another: a boy who grows up almost normal with a father and a mother who love each other so much this time even death leaves them be for once. in this life: he doesn't know yet. β
sukuna's fingertips along his spine make him feel strangely anchored and disconnected all at once. satoru has pressed those same divisions; but it felt rather different. like comparing the sky to a fire. atmosphere not yet burning, and the forest already asunder.
he doesn't move, not even with the warmth of those words against his ear. even when he feels sukuna's fingers and palm beneath his shirt, he doesn't move. it is only at the mention of stripping that he tilts his head softly, glancing over. ]
I did not realize how much you meant, Sukuna-dono.
[ not entirely a lie.
not the truth either. ]
'Attitude' was not my intention.
[ actually entirely the truth.
the feeling of simply being so close to sukuna is reminiscent of gojou in that they both have an undeniable presence of power. a certain sense of: what they will to be done, will be done. 'agreement' is not the point. obedience is. megumi does understand, and, though he does not recognize this completely about himself, the truth is something in him aligns with this. and though it is not so much about bowing his head, there is something to be said for having a clearly feasible function, a goal and a way to achieve it, and someone else in one's life to account for. the bottom line for megumi has always been tsumiki, still in her coma that doctors warn she may never wake from. but a hospital bed does not pay for itself.
if megumi had ever toyed with the thought of getting out of his contract with satoru, once tsumiki fell, that was no longer an option.
from childhood, megumi has a few memories that stand out: one winter going somewhere so far the city's lights didn't reach. tsumiki gifted him a book of stars and satoru knew each one by heart like he'd been there when they were hung in the sky. sometimes megumi feels like he was, this far-away look that belongs to no one because he refuses to; and if you cannot belong to anyone else can you truly possess another? megumi does try to stay within the boundaries of non-fiction. his real life is almost fictitious enough.
take sukuna for example.
a week.
or longer.
he lowers his gaze to the floor.
if he were to close his eyes, the presence of sukuna would be that of an old temple, kept by one person, rarely seen with the reverence of centuries.
no subject
sukuna's fingertips along his spine make him feel strangely anchored and disconnected all at once. satoru has pressed those same divisions; but it felt rather different. like comparing the sky to a fire. atmosphere not yet burning, and the forest already asunder.
he doesn't move, not even with the warmth of those words against his ear. even when he feels sukuna's fingers and palm beneath his shirt, he doesn't move. it is only at the mention of stripping that he tilts his head softly, glancing over. ]
I did not realize how much you meant, Sukuna-dono.
[ not entirely a lie.
not the truth either. ]
'Attitude' was not my intention.
[ actually entirely the truth.
the feeling of simply being so close to sukuna is reminiscent of gojou in that they both have an undeniable presence of power. a certain sense of: what they will to be done, will be done. 'agreement' is not the point. obedience is. megumi does understand, and, though he does not recognize this completely about himself, the truth is something in him aligns with this. and though it is not so much about bowing his head, there is something to be said for having a clearly feasible function, a goal and a way to achieve it, and someone else in one's life to account for. the bottom line for megumi has always been tsumiki, still in her coma that doctors warn she may never wake from. but a hospital bed does not pay for itself.
if megumi had ever toyed with the thought of getting out of his contract with satoru, once tsumiki fell, that was no longer an option.
from childhood, megumi has a few memories that stand out: one winter going somewhere so far the city's lights didn't reach. tsumiki gifted him a book of stars and satoru knew each one by heart like he'd been there when they were hung in the sky. sometimes megumi feels like he was, this far-away look that belongs to no one because he refuses to; and if you cannot belong to anyone else can you truly possess another? megumi does try to stay within the boundaries of non-fiction. his real life is almost fictitious enough.
take sukuna for example.
a week.
or longer.
he lowers his gaze to the floor.
if he were to close his eyes, the presence of sukuna would be that of an old temple, kept by one person, rarely seen with the reverence of centuries.
but he keeps his eyes open.
for now. ]