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The room smells like nothing. Megumi knows that this shouldn’t bother him. There are so many other things to be bothered about, but the lack of smell in the dusty space scratches at the back of his head like a persistent curse. He sits, as he sits every Saturday at dusk, on the floor of a dark temple tucked into the heart of the Gojo compound. The room is simple enough. Lacking some of the same lavish decorations found in other temples. There’s a silence to the place, a void of life. The room is simple and air is still and poised above Megumi is the body of Satoru. Caught in a gross simulation of life, hands outstretched, palms up like some benevolent god, held that way with formaldehyde and whatever they stuffed him with. His eyes are closed; there are rumors that his eyes were removed, buried somewhere deep and wrapped in seals. Living things even as the body and brain they were connected to are dead.
Megumi believes it. He also believes there is no way he will be able to get those back. It’s been an uphill and nasty fight to try and remove his late guardian’s body from its statuesque display. He’s fought Yuuta about it in screaming matches unbecoming of two clan heads. Yuuta claims he’s fighting just as hard, but Satoru’s being belongs to the clan, the soil of the compound, and the blood of the people. His power is thousands of years old, never his alone, and his body was impressive because it was so mortal. Yuuta is cutting through–sometimes literally–years of contracts and pacts and on and on and on. Megumi still hates him for letting this happen. For letting it happen for so many years. They aren’t teenagers anymore. Megumi is a man, sitting on the floor beneath Satoru’s scarred frame. A young man, but still grown.
Scentless incense, poised in a little pot, burns down and out. It was one of the few points of light in the room. Night creeps quickly along the floor, an old friend in the shadows that curl around him. Megumi gets to his feet, there’s dust on his knees. He reaches out to wipe a thin layer of it off of Satoru’s crisply pressed clothing. Heavy robes in dark colors. Vaguely, Megumi thinks they should have put him in blue or white. They seem so determined to make Satoru look alive in his death, but they shrouded him in darkness that pulls the pallor out of his skin an ashen gray. Megumi looks up at his face. Mouth a dull line, cobwebs in his white eyelashes.
It’s hot when he steps outside, especially for an aging dusk. A stale wind blows through somber sounding bamboo chimes. The garden and yard beyond the porch are all but abandoned. Yuji had come with him, as he does every week that Megumi can stomach checking up on Satoru. Where he is now is beyond Megumi. It’s not something that the other man can stand like Megumi. Their similar guilt creates two different beasts of burden. It's hard for him to look at Satoru’s suspended, rigid, rigor mortis stature and Yuji doesn’t hate Yuuta for failing the man, so he sits with him for tea as they discuss the mundane going ons that Megumi doesn’t have the patience for in this space.
“Murp.”
Megumi turns to the little sound coming up from the camellia beds. There’s a fat ball of white fur winding itself through the flowers. Dark pink petals catch in the cat's long hair and dirt clings to its belly. The animal pauses in its ambling and looks up at Megumi.
“Prrnup.”
“...that’s not funny,” Megumi says.
The cat has blue eyes. Large and shining, like the sky. Pupils expanding and contracting. The cat, uncaring for the distaste and horror that curls in Megumi, puts its front paws on the porch and struggles to heave itself up. Megumi takes a useless step back. The cat plasters itself to Megumi’s leg, seemingly recovered from its embarrassing climb, rubs white fur off onto his pants, twines between Megumi’s ankles, butts its head against his knee.
“Stop,” Megumi says. He steps over the cat, cutting it off mid merping, purring sound. “Go away.”
The cat does the opposite. It patters after Megumi’s hasty retreat, tail flicking at the very top. It rubs itself against his calf again, then hops up to stretch against his leg, pink paw pads splaying out, before it sinks claws into Megumi’s thigh. Hissing, Megumi reaches down and takes the claws out of his skin. They remain extended as the cat kneads the air, silky pads curling around Megumi’s thumb.
He drops the cat down onto all four paws.
“Stop.”
“Mrm.”
Megumi glares as the cat sits back and starts licking its own chest enthusiastically. The thing is still purring as it drags its bright pink tongue through its unruly white coat. Setting his jaw, Megumi pulls his phone out of his pocket. He texts an aggressive where are you????? to Yuji and puts distance between himself and the animal.
Or he tries.
Off the porch he thinks the cat has grown bored of him, caught in its enthusiastic grooming, but it comes trotting after him as he crosses the sand garden. Megumi pauses once to turn around and throw his arms up at the creature. It jumps, scampers back, arches its back at Megumi… then it’s loping after him not five seconds later.
“Meg–oh. Who’s that?”
Yuji is in front of the Head House standing with Yuuta. Megumi grimaces, and refuses to meet Yuuta’s eyes. The stitches are right above his brows. Yuji comes to him, then passes him to kneel in the sand, making raspberry sounds at the cat. It chirps at him and trots over, bumping its head against Yuji’s knee. Yuji grins as he lets the cat purr and rub itself all over his clothing. He gathers the fat thing in his arms, heaves it up making cutesy sounds. The cat lets itself be held, kneading its own stomach, head turned up against Yuji’s chest so it's smiling up at him.
“Are you okay?” Yuji asks Megumi, bouncing the cat like it is a human baby.
Megumi glowers at him. “Fine. Put the cat down.”
“Awh, but it–” Yuji pauses to lift and turn the cat. “He is so fluffy and cute.”
Yuuta approaches now, his face placid and his movements careful. He’s infuriatingly good at not provoking Megumi. Nearly gentle, like he thinks Megumi is made of glass. Or more accurately, and this gets under Megumi’s skin the most, he steps around Megumi like he’s walking on eggshells. Like they aren’t peers and Megumi isn’t worth the fight.
“We should go,” Megumi says once more to Yuji who is well and truly enamored with the damn cat.
“Megumi I–”
“I don’t want to speak to you, Okkotsu. Not until you deal with that.”
Megumi throws a gesture towards the temple he just came from. The cat, pawing at Yuji’s chin, rolls itself around in his arms and jumps onto the ground. He tangles himself back between Megumi’s legs, stretches again. Claws in Megumi’s upper thigh.
“Mreow.”
“Fucking–stop doing that!” Megumi hisses in pain and in an attempt to get the damn creature to extract itself from him.
“Mreow!”
“Uh,” Yuji says, “I think he wants you to pick him up.”
“No,” Megumi mutters. He pulls the cat’s claws out of his pants. Again. And sets the thing on all four paws. Again. “I want to go home.”
His voice breaks on home. Megumi looks away from Yuuta’s flinching brow and Yuji’s softening face. Yuuta scoops the cat off the ground, holds him with one arm, letting paws dangle. He nods to them as Yuji takes Megumi’s elbow and they set off towards the front gate.
Megumi doesn’t think about the cat. For a few reasons, but mostly because there is no reason for him to think about the cat. He goes about his existence, mundane and full of politics as it is. Weekdays are brimming with clan business and fighting with ancient powers for Satoru’s body and burial rights. A series of letters are delivered to him–letters when he has a damn laptop on his desk–that decline his appeal for the release of Satoru’s remains. Again. They come up with more creative excuses for every denial. This time it’s that Satoru has been classed as an artifact and to remove him from the temple would be grave robbery and could get Megumi imprisoned. Megumi rips up the stupid thing and feeds it into the over-worked paper shredder poised over the trashcan. He pulls out a fresh piece of parchment and pulls up a new email. This he types out first, unwilling to deal with ink.
Dear to whoever it concerns, dear assholes, dear monsters, dear degenerates. The cursor walks itself backwards.
To whom it may concern the High Council Gojo,
I received your letter, your denial of my request has been recorded. Please explain to me who classified Satoru Gojo’s corpse as an artifact. Under which historical or present laws protect it as such? Furthermore, how is the temple he is kept in considered a grave and not a showcase? Please be in anticipation of my next appeal.
Zen’in Clan Head, Megumi Fushiguro
Megumi hits send. Leans back and covers his face. He’s good at this. Unfortunately. Disgustingly. Political life suits him. He’s cut and dry enough to do what needs to be done. He can sit through meetings and understands sorcerer history enough–too much, Satoru told him so much– that he can exploit ancient loopholes in long lasting laws. Yuji told him he should go to law school. Megumi responded that Yuji should stop letting his students give him concussions.
He’s still in a form of defeat when Nobara comes slamming into his office.
“You’re coming to get drinks with me and Yuji,” she declares, pointing a manicured nail at him.
“I’m busy.”
“You don’t look busy.”
Nobara invites herself to lean against the edge of Megumi’s desk. She runs her finger over the top of his laptop, makes an exaggerated pouty face at Megumi when he moves it away from her.
“Busy or sad?”
“Oh my god,” Megumi rasps. “It’s a Wednesday afternoon.”
“And I need a drink,” Nobara says. “I think you need one too.”
He relents. Of course he relents. Getting drunk is a pleasure that Megumi willingly indulges in. Let the liquor numb the ache in the middle of his chest for one night. Liquor and Yuji, the best balms for Megumi’s residual aches. Megumi lets Nobara loop their arms together as they walk out of the Head House to her expensive car. Everything about Nobara is expensive. She smells like designer perfume, wears rare jewelry and designer clothing. The heels she has on match her eye patch and the dark red lip she’s sporting.
“Yuji called shotgun,” she tells Megumi as she pulls open the driver side door and slides in.
“What are we? Children?” Megumi scoffs. “Yuji isn’t here, he didn’t call shit.”
Still, he crawls into the back. Nobara grins at him in the rearview mirror as she puts the car in gear and peels out of the gate.
“So,” Megumi says when they’re cruising at a normal speed. “How goes work?”
The croons of something poppy and new undertones the smooth sound of the car. Nobara changes lanes smoothly and shrugs.
“Fine as it can go. Infestations are rarer now but I think that curses are just bigger.”
“Powerful?”
“Eh. Not really. Just bigger, like they take longer to form.”
Megumi fiddles with the zipper on his jacket. Satoru’s jacket. Black and tailored for Satoru’s body. It fits a little odd around Megumi.
“That’s good though, right?”
“I think so. Makes missions a little boring, but I think it’s a step in the right direction.”
She looks through the rearview mirror again. “Whatever balance existed before Satoru and Sukuna is slowly reforming. That’s Maki’s working theory at least.”
Megumi nods silently. “How is Maki?”
Maki doesn’t come to the compound ever. She offered Megumi a strange blessing when he took up being head and then told him if he ever invited her back she’d flay him. So he hasn’t seen his cousin but in passing for a few years. She prefers to keep on the move. She takes Yuji’s kids out on missions, teams up with Nobara’s task force or ventures out alone. Maybe that says something to how little Megumi gets out and about. He moves mainly between the clan compounds and the tech.
Nobara’s eye sparkles. “You want the details?”
“No, Jesus. How is her health, not your love life.”
“Oh she is very healthy.”
“Nobara.”
“You asked! I’m going to talk up my amazing sex life when I can.”
Megumi rubs his brow. “That’s my cousin.”
Nobara barks a laugh but waves him away. She turns onto a busier road, the one that leads out of the city and from there to the campus. Megumi settles back, perches his elbow on the door. He hasn’t been to the tech in a non-official capacity in awhile. He doesn’t…like campus. Megumi can admit that to himself now. He was never the most fond of the place to begin with, but without Satoru it's droll and depressing. Who knew that Megumi would miss the way Satoru's over enthusiasm and annoying tendency towards cheer would fill a space. Yuji does bring life to campus, but that’s rarely enough to make Megumi spend unnecessary time there.
Yuji bounds up from the field to meet them when they get to campus. He’s shirtless and sunburnt, sweat along his hairline and grass stains on his knees. He grabs Megumi into a sweltering hug, presses a hurried kiss across the top of his cheek before he’s turning to Nobara. She doesn’t allow him to touch her but they still crow at each other loudly.
“Let me shower and change and we can get going!” Yuji calls as he runs towards the old dorm buildings.
“Yeesh,” Nobara says, “where does he get that energy?”
“The sun,” Megumi mutters.
Some of the other teachers come up from the field not long after, discussing the sparring they’d been doing. They all have that slightly disheveled annoyed look of someone who got beaten time after time by Yuji as he spouted encouragement. A few greet Megumi, more greet Nobara. At one time every sorcerer at the school knew who Megumi was. They knew him as Satoru’s kid. Asked where his silly dad was when they weren’t together, talked harmless shit about Satoru within earshot. Most of those people are dead now, and Megumi is no one but the Zen’in clan head.
Freshly showered and dressed in casual clothing, Yuji attaches himself to Megumi. Their palms kiss as they walk together towards Nobara’s car. Megumi focusses on that as Nobara and Yuji talk about something that happened near Nagasaki a few weeks back. He tunes it out for the most part, letting the familiar smell of Yuji’s generic shampoo and sharp aftershave take Megumi some place nice and quiet. He hates that Yuji happily slides into shotgun while Megumi crawls into the back.
They go someplace cheap and hidden in the neon shadow alleys of Roppongi. Nobara pays to have her car parked overnight so she can, in her words, get wasted to the point she doesn’t remember where she parked the vehicle. Megumi pays. They’re all well off, even if Yuji could care less about money. Satoru’s fortune had been protected beyond the clan in a sick act of protection that didn’t extend to his physical body. The weird irony, joke, metaphor, whatever it is, is not lost on Megumi. He pays for plates of fatty food and an endless stream of alcohol.
By the third hour Megumi has to piss so badly it hurts, and is drunk enough that he’s attached himself to Yuji like a child, clinging to the hem of his shirt. Yuji gets happy when he’s drunk, happier, and it takes him a while to truly get drunk, so he handles speaking with any wait staff that come by or with people that stumble into their table. He has a strong arm wrapped around Megumi’s shoulders, scratching his fingers into the hair at the back of Megumi’s neck. Eventually Megumi curls up onto the bench and fully against Yuji’s side, eyes cast blurry across the room. It's late so the place is thriving. The sound of laughter bounces around the inside of Megumi’s skull. It's too warm for the dry nights. He’s so miserable.
“Megumi,” Yuji’s voice cuts through the static coating Megumi’s brain. “Megumi, why are you crying?”
Nobara is leaning across their little table, concern creasing her drunk flush face. Yuji’s thumbs swipe tears off of Megumi’s face. He couldn't feel them, didn’t even know he was crying. Megumi sucks in a breath.
“I have to pee.”
Yuji helps him to the bathroom and when they get back they call it quits for the night. Night is morning when they step into the thriving street clinging to each other as they sway towards a less crowded place to call an uber. Megumi is held up between his friends, head tilted forward, watching his feet. From behind a trashcan he catches sight of something bright white. Megumi makes an aborted sound, his clumsy feet tripping over themselves as he comes to a stop.
“What is–hey Megumi!”
Megumi pushes himself out of Yuji’s grip, stumbles towards the trashcan and yanks it away from the wall. The cat, white, big eyed, looks up at him.
“Prunmp.”
Megumi leans heavily on the stinking can. A scrap container for some restaurant. The cat has part of something in its mouth. Something gross and rotten and Megumi is reaching towards the thing before his mind can stop him. He rips the gross thing from the animal’s mouth, watches the cat jump and catches claws across his wrist.
“Stop eating garbage!” Megumi warbles, shaking the first full of foul whatever it was at the animal. “For fu–ucks sake.”
The cat is not impressed. It hisses at him, bats at him with extended claws. Megumi throws the trash behind him. He sticks his finger in the cat’s face.
“S’bad for you.”
“Megumi.” Yuji puts a hand on Megumi’s shoulder, tugging him away. He sounds like he’s trying not to laugh. “What has gotten–ah you’re bleeding. Nobara do you have any first aid?”
They get Megumi sitting against the wall. Nobara cleans the cuts with spray germ-x that smells like cotton candy. She does it to spite him, but the cuts don’t really hurt. Nobara smacks a couple of black bandaids on him. Megumi watches the cat. It has come out of its hiding place to observe him right back. It licks a paw, extending its little toes until the pale webbing beneath is visible under the copious fur.
“What are the odds that’s the same cat?” Yuji asks.
He’s moved his body between Megumi and the can, crouching while making little kissy noises at the animal. The cat trots over, rubs its head against Yuji’s knuckles. Yuji pets its ears down so its face is pulled back with. The points of little canines appear under furry lips.
“Huh,” Yuji hums, after several seconds of running his hands through white fluff. “This is the same cat.”
“What are you talking about?” Nobara asks. She steps back from the cat when it turns its blue gaze on her. “No, shoo. I’m wearing black, get your mangy self back.”
“He’s not mangy,” Megumi mumbles.
“Me and Megumi saw this cat at the Gojo compound a few weeks ago.”
The cat has started to approach Megumi again. He lets the creature rub itself along his side, making little chirping sounds. White fur blurs into a fuzzy puddle against the dirty ground. The cat pauses, turns his face up to blink at Megumi.
“He looks like Satoru,” Nobara laughs.
The name snaps in Megumi’s ears. Blurs and hums, comes apart at the seams.
“Mrew,” says the cat.
Megumi sniffs back the emotion that scorches the back of his throat suddenly. He reaches down for the cat, gathers him into his arms, against his chest. Megumi doesn’t know what he is, omen, or fate, or ghost. Whatever the cat is, he’s solid and purring against Megumi’s throat, bunching his pants in flexing paws. Yuji crouches next to Megumi, slings an arm around his shoulders. Nobara does too, despite the dirty street, and she runs her fingers against the cat’s fluffy belly. Megumi tucks his head over the cat, letting him butt his damp nose against Megumi’s chin.
He’s not sure what happens between the alley and his bed with Yuji, but when he wakes up the next day, hungover and too hot against Yuji; he feels something in him settle.
Two days later Megumi is sitting in his office when Yuuta comes in. Megumi jolts where he’s sitting, ink spilling down the page in a black river.
“What are you doing here?”
“We need to talk,” Yuuta says, “like adults.”
Megumi starts to scowl.
“Like adults who have both lost someone we love and want the best for him.”
Megumi clenches his jaw but motions for the chair on the other side of his desk. Yuuta smiles stiffly at him like he’s afraid a smile will break whatever truce Megumi is allowing. Yuuta settles in the chair and pulls a fat folder out of his bag. He takes out a few papers, hands them to Megumi.
“You got permission to remove him?” Megumi asks as he reads over the documents.
“Not quite. I wrote up a proposal that if voted for by a majority will allow us to remove him.”
Megumi drops the papers, rubs his eyes. “So you’re done nothing.”
“Megumi.”
“If all it took were a bunch of people agreeing to let his body get cremated it would have happened years ago.”
“Yes,” Yuuta says, “but I didn’t have this proposal. It’s backed up by ancient law. There are no loopholes.”
“There are always loopholes,” Megumi mutters.
“Not this time, but I’m going to need us to stop acting like enemies.”
“It’s the Zen’in Gojo way,” Megumi drawls.
Yuuta quirks a brow at him. “Well you’re a Fushiguro and I’m an Okkotsu.”
Megumi looks back down at the papers, rereads the proposal. There’s a section at the end for a series of signatures. There’s four spaces for Megumi, his advisor, and the two ancient representatives that have been acting as a blockage between Megumi and the Gojos. He replaces his fountain pen with a simple ballpoint in dark Zen’in green, signs his name cleanly across the bottom. He folds the pages back over.
“When are you presenting this?” Megumi asks. He hands the documents back.
“At the next joint meeting,” Yuuta says. The papers go back into his bag and silence descends around them.
Megumi clears his throat. “That white cat, is he around the compound a lot?”
“Comes and goes,” Yuuta says. “I don’t think he belongs to anyone.”
“He was in Tokyo two days ago. We ran into him in Roppongi.”
Yuuta tilts his head. The faint lines of the stitching catch the last rays of the sunlight pressing themselves beyond Megumi’s eclipsed blinds. Megumi looks away from them, down to Yuuta’s dark eyes.
“That’s strange. Are you sure it was the same cat?”
“Yuji thinks it was,” Megumi says. “But we were all pretty drunk.”
“Ah,” Yuuta smiles. “You seemed disturbed by it at the compound.”
“I was disturbed by my late guardian’s body,” Megumi says, dryly.
Humming, Yuuta gets to his feet. “We’ll fix this.”
Megumi isn’t sure he believes him, but he offers a nod before Yuuta steps back out into the hall.
Tsumiki’s ashes sit on a little shrine in a little room at the back of the Head House. Megumi had built a small shrine enclosed in a dark cabinet. He visits her often, sleeps occasionally on the floor in front of her picture. This room is fragrant. There is a constant burn of incense, the windows are cracked over the tall flowering hydrangea, and when the weather turns rainy it turns the room into something like a forest. The shrine is a pretty thing, covered in flowers and candles and photos. Tsumiki’s urn is simple and white. Megumi kneels.
There is something unnatural about this too. Another reminder of how displaced they are–Megumi and Tsumiki and Toji and Satoru–even after death. Death clings to them, has claimed all but one, and yet none of the dead three have found a proper death. There is no Fushiguro family tomb, no mother or grandparents to share Tsumiki’s honor, so her urn has sat in this room for a long time, too long, there is nothing proper about it. Megumi lights the candles, the stubby incense, and leans back.
He used to sit here in silence, thinking about silence. All the things he never said. So now he tries to talk. Stilted, awkward conversation. He tells his dead sister about Yuuta, and Satoru, and how he thinks about breaking up with Yuji every day because he is so good and Megumi will never be. He thinks about it as he thinks about how lucky he is, how held and how loved.
There’s a thump across the room. Megumi whips his head up to the window. Light blue hydrangea eat the window sill, and poised between two flowery heads is the cat. He steps off the ledge, landing on the floor lightly and patters over to Megumi. Megumi sits stupified as the cat sniffs at the cabinet, craning his head up to peer at the flames. When his curiosity is abated the cat comes to Megumi’s side. He sits down, curls his tail over his front feet.
“...Satoru?”
The cat licks his own chest, gnawing at the white fur that comes off on his tongue. Megumi reaches out, puts his hand between the cat’s ears.
“Satoru? Is that you?”
The cat pauses, looks at Megumi.
“Mrrr.”
Megumi sucks in a shuddering breath. “That’s ridiculous.”
But if Satoru were to reincarnate it would be into the body of a fat, fluffy cat that speaks more than any cat Megumi has ever known. He strokes his thumb down the bridge of the cat’s nose.
“Are you Satoru Gojo?”
“Mew. Mreow, mreow.”
The animal pops up on his hind legs as he wraps his front paws around Megumi’s wrist, turning his head more fully into the cup of Megumi’s palm. Megumi breathes out a bitter little laugh.
“I’m going crazy.”
“Prump,” says the cat.
Megumi cups the cat around the face. “I’m going crazy.”
“Mrew.”
The cat’s claws come out against the side of Megumi’s wrist. He lets go, lets the creature get all four paws on the ground.
“Can you…do you know what I’m saying?”
Pink tongue is back to attacking white fur. The cat cleans himself in enthusiastic and long drags of his tongue. His eyes are closed and his mouth is shaped like a smile.
“Satoru.”
The cat doesn’t pause.
“Gojo.”
Nothing.
“...dad.”
Gnawing on hair and then more licking.
Megumi draws his knees up, puts his forehead against hard caps and doesn’t cry. The desire to sob like a child, like an infant, burns hot in him, especially when he feels the cat climbing him, tucking itself comfortably in the little space made by Megumi’s arm. The cat purrs loudly in his ear.
The cat is not normal. This Megumi can understand, the creature was able to appear not just in Tokyo from Kyoto but also in the exact room where Megumi was. When Megumi has excavated himself from his arms the cat is happily asleep and Megumi bundles him up. He calls Yuji, and asks him to come get him. Shoko isn’t a vet, but she might be able to confirm or deny what Megumi is thinking about reincarnation. Yuji is delighted to see him, pressing a kiss to the side of Megumi’s mouth. He smells like the sun and the grass that grows down at the field. His hair is a little wind touselled and the car he came in is his own crappy thing. It smells a bit like old food inside, but Megumi climbs in with the cat waking in his arms, and sinks into the worn seats like he’s slipping into a hug. Yuji talks for most of the ride, laughing when the cat fights out of Megumi’s grip to stand with his front paws on the dash staring out the windshield.
Shoko examines the cat after taking him from Megumi’s arms with a burdened sigh. Megumi watches the cat’s reaction carefully. Just to see if he will wrinkle his face against the smell of cigarettes or chirp at Shoko like they’re long lost friends. He does chirp at Shoko, but is more enamoured with the morgue than with the woman carrying him to a bed.
“Megumi,” Shoko says after she’s examined the cat. “He’s fine, this is just a cat.”
“I–” Megumi swallows, he looks down at the floor. “Sorry. I thought he was maybe. Satoru.”
The air goes out of the morgue and then Yuji is making a quiet hurt sound. His palm slides against Megumi’s.
“Baby…” Yuji murmurs. “Sweetheart.”
“Stop,” Megumi whispers. His voice is being hijacked by emotion. “Stop.”
But Yuji has never stopped saving Megumi, has never stopped loving him larger than Megumi deserves. He pulls Megumi against him, tucks his face away into his shoulder. Megumi feels like he’s mourning again, and feels ridiculous for it. It’s a cat. A clueless little animal. White with blue eyes isn’t even that rare of a coloring for cats.
“I can see it,” Shoko says. She’s lifting the cat, who is mewling, to appraise him again. “White fur, Satoru eyes. He is friendly and loud. I don’t blame you kid. I’m sorry.”
“You shouldn’t be,” Megumi says. He pulled away from Yuji, wiped his wrist over his nose. “What were we going to do if it was Satoru?”
All three of them consider the cat, hanging in Shoko’s hands, looking cheerful. Megumi didn’t even think cats could look that cheerful.
“We’d keep him,” Yuji says. “Take care of him. Make sure he can be happy and live long and die quietly in one of our laps when we’re all old and gray. And then he could go on to be something else.”
Like a bird, or a cloud, or water in a clean little stream. Or a flower tucked into the corner of a garden. Something else. Something good.
“We can still keep him,” Megumi says.
Shoko hands Megumi the cat. “Name him Six or Blue.”
“Six is cute,” Yuji says. He pulls the cat’s paws.
Six. Megumi sighs.
It's two in the morning when the cat wakes Megumi. Six sits on his chest, looking down at Megumi with a paw insistently prodding at the side of his mouth. Six has lived with them for almost three months and he has never done something so deliberate or insistent in the middle of the night. Megumi blinks at him. The silence from the usually vocal cat concerns him faster than he thinks is healthy. Six stands, turns on Megumi’s chest and hops off the bed. On silent paws he crosses the room to the door, looking over his shoulder waiting for Megumi to follow.
Slipping from bed, on silent feet Megumi follows. Six glows as he trots down the dark halls, checking once and awhile to make sure that Megumi is keeping pace. They get to the front door and Megumi slides it open when Six paws at the seam. The night is warm and still and quiet. The houses of the Zen’in cast dark shadows across a yard illuminated by a full moon. The cat steps off the porch, continues his quick trot and Megumi, as if possessed, follows him on bare feet and in thin sleep clothing. They cross the yard and then the grand garden a shadow and a streak of light. When they get to the front gate Megumi falters.
“Six, where are we going?”
Six hops up onto the gate, looking down at Megumi. “Mrrm.”
“Six.” Megumi reaches for the cat. “Six, where are you going?”
Six butts his head against Megumi’s knuckles, drags his sandpaper tongue across his fingers. But he’s leaving. Megumi can tell. He’s saying goodbye, following those patterns that everything and everyone that leaves follows. Megumi wants to grab Six by the scruff, drag him down, shake him. His life is good here. He has a bowl with his name on it, two meals a day and plentiful snacks. He lounges in his own little bed or across Megumi’s lap when Megumi is at his desk. He has a basket of toys and blankets and is smothered in love and affection by everyone in his life. But Six is leaving.
“Why?” Megumi whispers. “Where are you going?”
Six looks out into the night, out over the gate, up towards the starless, neon sky. He’s still smiling that smile of his, that smile that made Megumi think that he was Satoru. Now with twinkling eyes, and that smirk, Megumi feels that wonder blossom in him again and this time it unfolds completely into a flower, filling his chest with surety.
Six chirps at Megumi one last time and hops over the gate. He meanders off down the road. At the edge of the garden Yuji appears. He’s holding a phone, Megumi’s phone, raising it.
“Megumi! It’s Yuuta!”
They burn Satoru Gojo’s body on an afternoon that shines a bright and unblemished blue. Megumi took the body down that morning when he got to Kyoto, helped Yuuta remove the stand keeping Satoru upright, and brushed dust off the top of his head. Satoru is hard to carry, unnaturally stiff against Megumi, but he cradled him anyway, pressed his hand over Satoru’s eyes as they left the temple, so he never has to see it again. Yuuta pulls a small box from his pocket when he and Megumi are alone with the body to dress it for cremation. The little item hums and rattles. Yuuta opens it, revealing the glassy balls of Satoru’s eyes. Divine and swiveling on a damp satin pillow. Megumi takes the right and Yuuta takes the left and they tuck each one under its corresponding hand. Megumi cups Satoru’s face, leans their foreheads together, presses a kiss to his hairline like Satoru did to him, once the night Tsumiki was cursed and neither of them knew how to get up from it when Satoru failed to wake her.
Yuuta murmurs something, his hand on Satoru’s wrist.
It’s so strange how small a skeleton of a large man can seem fragmented down to tiny shards. How each little bone feels so light, charred and left in a bed of silky ash. Megumi gathers them quietly, places them in an urn he’s had for years. He has memories about each bone, each finger or splinter of spine. When he’s done Megumi joins his friends gathered outside the crematorium. Megumi smiles at them.
Yuji brings home a little kitten a month after Satoru was set free in death. She’s a tiny thing, barely a palm full with bulgy green eyes and brown fur. They name her Seven.