[ ryomen sukuna exists like a real-life myth. the way people describe him is not unlike how people also speak of gojou satoru β "he who unbalanced the floating world" β but if gojou is the cancelling of its secret gravity then perhaps sukuna is the millennia old earth, its core in its roots neither trees nor blooms but something molten despite its darkness, a night-sun. most people in this world grow up knowing those names and the implications that come chained to them as shadows to the bodies in any given light.
megumi spent six years of his life before that knowing became his own as well.
at gojou's place β well, one of them, β are the animal vestiges of that childhood. he wonders if sukuna would let him have kon, and then he wonders if it would be safe for his oldest friend; by the time the car pulls up, he has already decided not to ask.
standing outside, it is an old practice at this point to ignore the stares. when they go out, business or otherwise, megumi submits himself to gojou's hand and tries not to look too closely at why. if it has anything to do with the rare and strangely gentle contact, if it has anything to do with the look of approval he always receives after, if there are these worn down stones in the river of himself that still want to feel like they serve a purpose; these are their own kinds of gravity and they pool in constant insistence on the subconscious of fushiguro megumi like a black hole.
his heart is conversely an anchor; his morals both dynamic and yet rigid all at once; his actions: decided. debt. proof. worth.
sukuna reminds him of a predatory cat somehow and he wonders if that would be offensive to a man so feared people go out of their ways not to be noticed by him (without success; everyone knows that the rumor that sukuna 'sees everything' is not without basis.) once in the car, megumi both permits and slightly ignores the way there is nothing else to focus on. sukuna and gojou are alike in that way too.
the deft sweep of eyeliner accentuates the shape of megumi's eyes, surprisingly large, unexpectedly green, and always a strange balance of perceived calm and too much thought. he was once told if he kept over-thinking things he would go bald, and that not everything in life had an answer; at the time, he agreed. come to it, he still agrees now, but his perspective has shifted. not everything has an answer, yes; but that does not mean he can stop seeking the chance of it. there are only a handful of things β less β that megumi must do: ensure tsumiki is taken care of, do his best for kon and the rare existence in this city of nue β a bird of prey so large only the gojou 'estate' befits him, despite not being in the city and meaning megumi rarely sees it, repay gojou satoru whatever the cost.
this, tonight, this week, this month, however long, falls into the last.
lowering his gaze to his folded hands, megumi says nothing in reply at first, only after a moment saying, quietly, ]
It is temporary.
[ though his words are polite and mild, the point is sharp and clear. a slight tilt of megumi's head causes the lights outside to catch on his earrings, the facets of them so many and meticulous the sky of them almost seems ablaze. it is at polar contrast with megumi's eyes, still downcast and fanned by his lashes in a way that makes them shadowed and a bit strange though no less pretty. once, gojou told him he couldn't stand to look at him because he looked so much like his father, but that was when megumi was six and things change over nine years.
whether or not megumi ever finds out it was gojou who killed fushiguro toji is yet to be seen.
a soft breath brings into his lungs again the old fire sukuna somehow scents of, like a fire in a forest that's just after rain, deep in the mountains older than any human being, tinged with something that reminds megumi of temples and folklore. he concedes this, however silently: sukuna is as impressive in presence as the hearsay would lead one to believe. but that given, he is still human.
sometimes megumi is not certain he entirely understands what that means either though, and perhaps that says something as to his absence of fear. what he 'recognizes' in sukuna are the animal likenesses and less the human politics of a world such as the one he reigns over.
the way megumi bends his head causes even his bespoke suit to gape at the back of his neck ("megumi-chan eat this, you're wasting away on me." - "shut up please.") and it is little things that often speak most loudly of wealth: take for example, the smoothness of the skin there, everywhere on him in truth, the moon quality of him, the neatly groomed part of his hair that somehow seems unruly but styled, softer in-person than photos seem to convey, trimmed neatly at the nape as if to show off that part of him; and in a way, it is, not so much when he wears the suit as kimono but perhaps that is neither here nor there. suffice to say: gojou takes care of what he deems his.
and megumi, because he cannot help certain parts of himself, holds onto that fact. ]
no subject
megumi spent six years of his life before that knowing became his own as well.
at gojou's place β well, one of them, β are the animal vestiges of that childhood. he wonders if sukuna would let him have kon, and then he wonders if it would be safe for his oldest friend; by the time the car pulls up, he has already decided not to ask.
standing outside, it is an old practice at this point to ignore the stares. when they go out, business or otherwise, megumi submits himself to gojou's hand and tries not to look too closely at why. if it has anything to do with the rare and strangely gentle contact, if it has anything to do with the look of approval he always receives after, if there are these worn down stones in the river of himself that still want to feel like they serve a purpose; these are their own kinds of gravity and they pool in constant insistence on the subconscious of fushiguro megumi like a black hole.
his heart is conversely an anchor; his morals both dynamic and yet rigid all at once; his actions: decided. debt. proof. worth.
sukuna reminds him of a predatory cat somehow and he wonders if that would be offensive to a man so feared people go out of their ways not to be noticed by him (without success; everyone knows that the rumor that sukuna 'sees everything' is not without basis.) once in the car, megumi both permits and slightly ignores the way there is nothing else to focus on. sukuna and gojou are alike in that way too.
the deft sweep of eyeliner accentuates the shape of megumi's eyes, surprisingly large, unexpectedly green, and always a strange balance of perceived calm and too much thought. he was once told if he kept over-thinking things he would go bald, and that not everything in life had an answer; at the time, he agreed. come to it, he still agrees now, but his perspective has shifted. not everything has an answer, yes; but that does not mean he can stop seeking the chance of it. there are only a handful of things β less β that megumi must do: ensure tsumiki is taken care of, do his best for kon and the rare existence in this city of nue β a bird of prey so large only the gojou 'estate' befits him, despite not being in the city and meaning megumi rarely sees it, repay gojou satoru whatever the cost.
this, tonight, this week, this month, however long, falls into the last.
lowering his gaze to his folded hands, megumi says nothing in reply at first, only after a moment saying, quietly, ]
It is temporary.
[ though his words are polite and mild, the point is sharp and clear. a slight tilt of megumi's head causes the lights outside to catch on his earrings, the facets of them so many and meticulous the sky of them almost seems ablaze. it is at polar contrast with megumi's eyes, still downcast and fanned by his lashes in a way that makes them shadowed and a bit strange though no less pretty. once, gojou told him he couldn't stand to look at him because he looked so much like his father, but that was when megumi was six and things change over nine years.
whether or not megumi ever finds out it was gojou who killed fushiguro toji is yet to be seen.
a soft breath brings into his lungs again the old fire sukuna somehow scents of, like a fire in a forest that's just after rain, deep in the mountains older than any human being, tinged with something that reminds megumi of temples and folklore. he concedes this, however silently: sukuna is as impressive in presence as the hearsay would lead one to believe. but that given, he is still human.
sometimes megumi is not certain he entirely understands what that means either though, and perhaps that says something as to his absence of fear. what he 'recognizes' in sukuna are the animal likenesses and less the human politics of a world such as the one he reigns over.
the way megumi bends his head causes even his bespoke suit to gape at the back of his neck ("megumi-chan eat this, you're wasting away on me." - "shut up please.") and it is little things that often speak most loudly of wealth: take for example, the smoothness of the skin there, everywhere on him in truth, the moon quality of him, the neatly groomed part of his hair that somehow seems unruly but styled, softer in-person than photos seem to convey, trimmed neatly at the nape as if to show off that part of him; and in a way, it is, not so much when he wears the suit as kimono but perhaps that is neither here nor there. suffice to say: gojou takes care of what he deems his.
and megumi, because he cannot help certain parts of himself, holds onto that fact. ]