Chapter Text
Gojo Satoru has had good days and bad days. For example, last Friday was a good day. After months of painstaking investigation he managed to single handedly dismantle the largest Omega trafficking ring in the Kanto region. Usually you would get rewarded after such a commendable deed- maybe receive a medal of honor or two, but unfortunately Nanami Kento had other ideas.
Gojo gawked at the Senior Commissioner, “You have got to be kidding me.”
Nanami tugged at the leopard spotted tie that Gojo always found extremely tacky. It was a tell-tale sign that the Senior Commissioner was having a long day.
“As much as I would hate to leave a living, breathing child in your incapable hands. The kid refuses to talk to anyone but you.”
The situation was laughable. Gojo Satoru, the most irresponsible bachelor in Shinjuku was a lot of things. He was a playboy, an influential trust fund baby, the most accomplished investigator that the National Public Safety Commission has ever seen. He was not, in fact, a good parental figure. He was the antithesis of a good role model, and some would even find a hard time labeling him as a good person.
“That’s ridiculous! Just bribe him with candy or something. He’s just a kid, I’m sure he’ll come around,” He throws his hands up in the air in frustration.
“It’s been a week and the kid has only spoken four words. He only says, I want Gojo Satoru . He’s even refusing to eat or have his wounds treated and the kid is already in bad shape,” Nanami’s voice is stern.
The Senior Commissioner was always known to be a serious man but whenever kids were involved he was overbearingly protective. This rigid yet caring demeanor absolutely made all the omega secretaries feral and Gojo couldn’t say he blamed them. That's why he starts to sweat nervously when he sees that glint in Nanami’s eye, “What’s so important about this kid anyways? Why do we need to get him to talk? Can’t we just send him to therapy or trauma camp and call it a day?”
“This kid is Zenin. Toji Zenin’s kid, in fact. The son-of-a-bitch you arrested last week,” Nanami rakes a hand through his hair, “This kid has been off the record all his life which makes it very likely that he was used in illicit dealings. He could have information that we could use. The Kanto region was not the only place that they operated in.”
“That kid is Toji-Fucking-Zenin’s son?” Gojo let out a low whistle, “And here I thought I was fucked up.”
“This is not a contest,” Nanami snapped.
Gojo raised his hands in defense, “Only joking. You know that’s how I cope.”
He quickly sobered, “So you’re saying we only scratched the surface with Toji? Did anyone get the bastard to talk yet?”
“No. I’m still not convinced he’s human,” Nanami said bitterly.
“You’re taking the kid in and you’re gonna get him to talk. That’s final,” Nanami shoves a bunch of files of hastily drawn up legal papers that allotted him custody of Toji’s kid.
“His name is Fushiguro Megumi. We think he’s around 14 years old and unpresented. That’s as much as we were able to get out of the medical exam. The rest is up to you.”
Panic starts to rise and Gojo throws in a last ditch effort to get out of whatever this was, “I’ll have you know, my grandfather-”
Nanami cut him off mid sentence, “Is the Minister of Defense, Member of the House of Representatives and the Prime Minister’s right hand. I don’t give a damn, Satoru.”
He sighed, “You saved him from that place didn’t you? Don’t you want to make sure he’s alright?”
Gojo was not afraid to get his hands dirty, but typically once the ordeal was over he was quick to wash his hands of whatever blood had gotten on him. He never dwelled too long on the aftermath, lest he be plagued with guilt unlike some people he knew. He was Gojo Satoru, he didn’t have time to deal with the many skeletons in his closet and he’d like to keep it that way. But Nanami’s imploring tone drags up the fresh memories of his last mission. It wasn’t something he wanted to remember, but he does.
He remembers the blood, the broken bodies, the stench of sex and fear. Gojo remembers finding the kid chained to the wall, beaten within an inch of his life.
Gojo Satoru visibly deflates in defeat, his world literally turned upside down with this unprecedented turn of events.
Nanami checked his watch, “It is now 5pm and I will not be working overtime today. Ichiji, bring in Fushijoru Megumi.”
Before Gojo has time to react, Ichiji opens the door to reveal the source of Gojo Satoru’s strife.
Gojo may have been the one to carry the kid out of that God forsaken place but it feels like he’s seeing him for the first time all over again.
Fragile and broken were the only words to describe the phantom that appeared before him. Megumi unfortunately shared his father’s face, but that’s where the similarities ended. The malnourishment and abuse he received all his life stunted his growth significantly, so much so that his appearance was more child-like than what the paperwork suggested. The secondhand clothes someone managed to find for him fit poorly on the boy and only accentuated his thin bony frame. Translucent skin was littered with bruises and cuts in various stages of healing. His right arm was wrapped up in a cast and there was a noticeable limp in his stride. Unlike his delicate appearance his eyes were fierce and unyielding.
“Fushiguro-Kun, this is Satoru Gojo. He will be taking care of you from now on,” Nanami patted the boy on the head, “Call me if he gives you any trouble.”
That last statement was directed at Megumi, as if Nanami already knew that Gojo would somehow screw things up.
Nanami shot Gojo a pointed look before exiting the office, leaving the two of them alone.
“Hello, Megumi chan,” Gojo smiles disarmingly.
A long stretch of silence followed as Megumi assessed the alpha, his expression carefully blank. Gojo curiously peeks over his sunglasses, cerulean eyes sweeping over the battered boy. He notes the tired bruises under Megumi’s eyes and wonders when he last slept. How long was he kept locked up in that dark room? He remembers pulling the half conscious boy into his arms, checking for his pulse and being surprised to find him still alive.
He felt a tug on the hem of his shirt and his eyes darted towards the small fingers desperately holding on to him, as if he might disappear at any moment. Megumi was no longer looking at him but had his eyes fixed to the floor instead and his chest aches at the sight. He doesn’t want to think about all the pain and suffering this kid has already experienced. He doesn’t want to acknowledge the fact that maybe this kid needed him. It was too much responsibility. He takes the numerous wounds and the scars hidden beneath them and finds that it’s too much to ignore. Gojo decides that maybe, just for a little while, he’ll try.
He released a heavy sigh before ruffling the kid’s hair, “Let’s go home.”