OMGMGMGMGMG I LOVED SFM PART 5 OF REVERSAL OF THE HEART😭😭😭😭 i’ve been waiting for days for this part 😭 you’re so good at writing!! i can feel all the emotions from your writing !!! cant wait for part 6 (if there’s gonna be one) 😭😭!!!
PAIRING;; Toji Fushiguro/Reader
TAGS/WARNINGS;; heavy angst, tears, hurt/comfort, Megumi's shenanigans kickstarting the chapter yey, author actively enjoys writing about Toji suffering and then saying that he doesn’t deserve it
@m00dycr4nkybitc (tsym for being so patient !!)
@brumous11
NOTES;; ANON ILYSM THANK YOU, sorry this took time to update while writing my mind was in a dilemma like: this man is one of your favorite characters why are you making him suffer so much :D
PART ONE
PART TWO
PART THREE
PART FOUR
PART FIVE
“I’m a shit dad.”
“That’s not true.”
He tries to scowl, but it’s difficult while blinking away tears.
“Maybe he’s happy. He’s a smart kid. Probably went to the nearest orphanage. He’s probably having dinner with a new family as we speak.”
“Maybe Tsumiki’s going to be next. She’ll realize that her brother’s right, and she’s leave too.”
“And then you’ll go. Because when the kids are gone there’s nothing to stay for, only a piece-of-shit husband who cannot look after his family.”
“Toji.” He finally looks at you. He does not meet your eyes. His eyes are bloodshot. He’s been awake all night, wandering seemingly aimlessly on the streets, hoping to find his son in the next alleyway.
Tsumiki is the first one to realize.
When she wakes up in the morning to go for school, she passes her brother’s bedroom, yawning. It is a day like any other, however, she is happy with the weekend around the corner. When she passes her parent’s bedroom, she quietly stops, peeking in to see her father curled up against…
It felt slightly weird, calling her Mom, but she was really sweet and kind to her. She saw how her dad’s head was tucked under her arm; their bodies angled towards each other. He always had a weird habit of sleeping spread eagled, comically struggling to be the little spoon with his legs sprawling out of the blanket, while the only thing she could see was the messy locks of hair peeking out of the other side of the blanket. She remembered once when he had fallen asleep next to her and had rolled over to his side, almost crushing her immediately.
The memory made Tsumiki smile wistfully. Her father had never been the same ever since Mom had passed on, but she could slowly start to see bits and pieces of him slowly coming back together, as he began to adjust himself to his new life.
She did remember her mother’s face, but not as clearly. Y/N had slowly begun to take on that role; and the longer she spent time with her, the more at ease she felt. They were both young when Mom had passed, when Megumi was 2 and she was 4. It had been 3 years since then, one year since she had a new mom.
The feeling was familiar, and when she came, she realized how much her skin craved hugs, the bedtime stories, the songs which her new mom hummed as she went about through the day, working on her laptop, and stopping in between to either finish her chores, or to take a break. Tsumiki loved how every time she saw her, she would turn to her and smile softly, her expression warm and open.
Dad was…distant. Only a little though. It did not upset Tsumiki. She tried to understand; she had her mother for 4 years before she passed, and her father had spent 10. 10 years was a long time to spend with somebody, and then lose them.
She didn’t feel the need to forgive her father; she did not think that he had done anything wrong. She wished that he spent more time with them instead of having to disappear every once in a while, for work. The longest he had gone was for two weeks.
Because of this, Y/N Mom usually took her to school. Sometimes Dad would come with her, and she would see them waiting for her. Over time, the distance between them seemed to become smaller. At first, she would see her sitting on the benches lined up nearby, while her father stood a few feet away, smoking contentedly. Her dad always smelled of cigarettes, and when she ran out past the gates, he would pick her up and squeeze her into a tight hug, the tired look in his eyes leaving him for a few moments.
Now, he had begun to stop. Taking out a cigarette, hesitating, then settling for lacing his hands through Mom’s hand instead, while she hummed softly.
Dad’s home today. She’s happy. Both of them would be waiting for her when school is over, and maybe if he was not tired, she could watch TV with him.
Skipping slightly, making sure not to wake up either of them, she goes downstairs. Today is colder than usual, and she pulls on a sweater before she does. Mom would wake up soon. She glanced up at the clock.
Mom would be awake in half an hour. She was not too sure about Dad. Maybe she could say goodbye before leaving.
Megumi is lucky. He still has a year before he had to start school. He had cried when he was sent to kindergarten, sobbing as he held onto his father’s hip, as he was led away by one of the caretakers. It had lasted around a month and a half before his father had given up; her brother sniffling in relief as he desperately clung to him. Sometimes she would see annoyance briefly flash across his face as he held Megumi in his arms, irritated at how the boy insisted on being difficult.
Tsumiki knows how it frustrated Dad; how Megumi took up much of his time, so she becomes quieter. She does not nag or complain when he’s busy. She does not feel jealous when Dad caves in to her brother’s tantrums. Maybe some siblings just needed more time to grow up. She smiles when he weakly pats her hand, cradling a sleeping Megumi to his chest.
“I’m sorry, ‘miki.” He says, and she pretends to not know what he is talking about. Not that it works; adults see through everything.
Her chain of thoughts is interrupted when her mom pats her head as she walks past her.
“Good morning, sweetie.” She says and Tsumiki blushes.
“Morning.” She says, feeling shy.
“I’ll make some pancakes for breakfast, is that alright?” Tsumiki’s eyes light up when she nods. “If there’s anything you like to eat, tell me, okay?”
“Okay!” She pauses. “Should I wake Megumi up?”
“That would be really helpful. Thank you.” Mom seemed to sense how her brother loved being coddled, and angled her attention and care towards her. She did not have to, Tsumiki understood; but it still felt nice when her parents did. Little things which kept her happy for the rest of the day.
She is still smiling to herself when she opens the door to his room, walking towards the messed up pillow fort which he insisted on building every single night. She calls out his name, and when she does not hear a reply, she pulls at the blankets, giggling; knowing fully well that he would be annoyed by the sudden stream of sunlight hitting his eyes, probably one of the small cushions thrown at her for good measure, with no real intention of hurting her, of course.
“WAKE UP!” She yells, pulling with all her might. To her surprise, there is no resistance, and she falls backwards, sitting hard on the floor. She barely registers the pain before seeing that the bed was empty.
Tsumiki blinks slowly, then walks over to the bed, patting it to make sure. She feels oddly calm for a few moments, thinking, maybe this won’t be so bad.
Then panic seizes her, and she bolts into the bedroom upstairs, crying.
When you set up the plates, the dining room is empty, and you hear muffled sobbing and shuffling sounds. You immediately make your way up the stairs, and barge into the room that you both share. You find Tsumiki sobbing, curled up in bed, clinging onto one of the pillows.
“What happened, Tsumiki?” You asked, shocked. You have never seen Tsumiki this upset before.
“Megumi’s gone.” She wept.
At that moment Toji re-enters the room. His entire form looks disheveled, shaken-up and his eyes are wild with fear. He opens his mouth to speak, then closes it, unable to form words. Something cold creeps up behind you and you immediately shoved it downwards. Not now, not like this.
“This is my fault.” He says. His pupils have become pinpoints; his gaze unfocused.
“No.” you say, swallowing. “We…we need to go to the police. Toji-TOJI!” You shriek as he bolts out the door, rasping for breath. You don’t know whether you should stay with Tsumiki, or go after him. You had no idea where he was going. As you pass by the rooms, you see that almost everything has been hurriedly shoved to the corners, every possible corner of the house laid bare in a desperate attempt to look for him.
“He must have gone to the Zenins,” He whispers when you find him, looking at you for some kind of assurance; then immediately snatches his phone from the table. His fingers are trembling when he punches in the numbers. His hands fidget, trying to find something to grab onto; before grabbing one of the cushions, nails digging into it while you hold his wrist. You hear the click and his cousin’s voice immediately rings through from the other side of the line.
“What is it?” Thankfully he does not seem in the mood for any snide remarks.
“Did Megumi come over to the Estate?” Toji hisses. “Listen, one of you better not have fucking locked him up, or else I swear to god I’ll kill you-“
“What the hell are you talking ‘bout? Isn’t the kid like you? No Cursed Energy, nothing. What would we do with him?”
“…” Of course Toji has not told them anything.
“Well it’s sad that you think it’s one of us, dear cousin,” Naoya drawls. “Don’t you have enough enemies from the shit that you do? No offense, Toji, but keep the clan out of it.” As if he even wanted to.
“So if I go up to your house and search every goddamn room I’m not going to find him.”
Naoya laughs, “What the hell am I going to do with a toddler? Can’t believe your kid ran away, probably good riddance if he really is that difficult.” You had not talked directly to Naoya except for short, one-word greetings and acknowledgements, and you are glad.
“Fine.” Toji cuts the call before Naoya can reply. He stares right ahead, blankly.
“Fucking hell.” He mutters, then turns to you. “Wait right here.”
“What are you going to do? I’m-I’m filing a report at the station.”
“The police won’t do shit. I’m calling Shiu.” He mutters.
“He’s-” He stops. “I’ll tell you later.”
“Fine. I’m still reporting it.”
“It won’t make a difference.”
“It will make a difference to me.”
“Well, I’ve lived here for years and I’m telling you that it won’t change anything.”
“Why wouldn’t I know that?”
“Because-” You throw up your hands in the air in frustration. “Because this has never happened before!” It is only then when it really sinks in. You feel yourself getting light-headed, but you know that detaching yourself from the situation was the last thing that would help.
“Fucking kid.” He hisses, more to himself.
“Stop getting mad at him.” You snarl, angrily.
“I’ve raised him for years; I’ll get as angry as I fucking want.” He almost yells, and then storms off.
“Ma?” You turn around to see Tsumiki, her lip quivering as Toji walks past her. You see the time from the corner of your eye, she just missed her bus a few minutes ago.
“Sweetness-” You struggle slightly. “You need to go to school.”
“But Gumi-” Her eyes immediately fill with tears; of course she wants to help. But how can she possibly do that? Maybe she could tell you why Megumi decided to run away in the first place, but you could try to figure that out after he was brought home.
“Sweetness, he’ll be back soon.” You insist; it is surprising how easily the lie slips through your lips when you have no idea where he could be. “I just need you to wait a little.” Your patience was starting to run thin, and you knew that within a few hours either you or Toji would explode, and an ugly fight would ensue. You at least did not want her to see that.
When you return, Toji is slumped over on the side of the bed. He does not say anything, almost as if a single word would will the universe into collapsing. You can tell that from the way his chest heaves, he is trying to control his breathing in patterns and is failing to do so. The breaths he takes in are shuddering, and when he exhales, they become sharp, short, as if something has wound itself around his throat.
Toji cannot enter Megumi’s room for the first couple of hours. It is too painful, and guilt runs deep in his veins. He had accepted it by now; pain is his home, and those little moments with his family are just a kind of buffer, an illusion, straws which he grabbed at, hoping that he could have a better life than the kind he thought he deserved.
His son’s room is a mess; and he is the reason for it, wildly moving things around, wondering if this was some kind of sick joke, like some stupid game of hide and seek he had kept off for too long, and this was his punishment for it.
He remembers how he liked to keep everything tidy; a complete opposite of how he was— leaving things unfinished and unkept. He has ruined it, the last image of Megumi sitting in his room. He wonders what he might have been thinking, quietly making the bed which he did not intend to sleep on anymore, tiny feet slowly padding across the floor, leading outside.
He opens the closet; the clothes are neatly folded up; probably Y/N had helped Megumi hang up his coats too.
He would not have even noticed; everything was in place.
He picks up one of the jackets Megumi had folded up; he still remembered buying it last Christmas. It was a woolly coat, a muted shade of blue with a folded-up hood. He suddenly wishes that he could have known him more; he did not think he remembered even the kid’s favourite shows. The walls were laid bare, from him telling Megumi not to paint or draw over the walls. It felt more like an older person’s room, had it not been for the bookshelf filled with picture books.
He doesn’t think he had even properly entered Megumi’s room in a while, mostly peeking from the doorway, or calling the boy from downstairs. He wishes that he had, the room seemed so messy, so unlike his son, and he could have remembered then, where he was supposed to keep what, and put everything back in its place while he waited for his son to return.
The memory would begin to slip through his mind, like sand falling through his fingers.
He wishes that Megumi had been livelier—that he had not wished for an “easy” child who demanded little of him, did not protest when he could not buy him anything, did not nag when he could not take him someplace nice except for holidays. Maybe he had been like that—but he had stopped paying attention, instead struggling to hide him from the Zenins, hiding him from the dangers which came with the jobs he took up.
Perhaps he had forced him to grow up quickly; robbed the boy of his desires until the only thing he asked of him was to stay, spend more time with him.
He feels like throwing up. Forcing the bile back down his throat, staring back at the piles of clothes, not one thing out of place. His gaze returns to the coat, and the only image that appears in his head is that of Megumi, shivering and crying somewhere.
A/N: So like I was writing part seven, trying to make the plot flow naturally and stuff right? And then this happened:
Microsoft did me so dirtyyyy 💀💀💀💀💀💀💀
