The sting upon knuckles did not subdue internal ache. He gave them a chance, a chance to satiate their own desire for dominance, and it only resulted with uniform slacks being ripped and rawness scraping his knees. That, too, did not quell a more profound ache. Had he thrown himself at the sadism and blood lust of thirty delinquents or even a special grade curse, Fushiguro Megumi knew brutality could not provide the salve for fractured emotions. He did not wish. He did not wish for anything.
If wishes had any probability of coming true or if any deities existed, then a child's dream to have his mother alive and his father at his side would have come true a long time ago. However, Megumi wis could have imagined the joy, albeit profoundly unhealthy, to be like the uncaring, psychotic sorcerers he had heard about. To be cruel, to be filled with malice . . to not care about anyone except one's self, it would be sweetly simple. Life was supposed to be cruel, wasn't it though? The life of a sorcerer above else. I can do this. I can do this. She'll — Tsumiki would wake up one day, otherwise the majority of his life's actions would have been for nothing.
There were no wishes in life neither regrets. Tall tales whispered in the dark when heart was shattering and shattering. Pieces he tried collecting with desperation until the tips of his fingers were grated, nearly touching bone, and layers of scarlet turned to ebony flakes. In lieu of any cure, Megumi sighed, tucking his knees beneath his chin. The smell of irritated flesh, gravel mingling with open skin, alerting his sense of smell; he did nothing about it. He wrapped his arms around his legs, and it was as close to a hug as he was about to get from anyone, including himself.
A month to the day passed since his sister fell into her mysterious coma, and a month was, truthfully, too long. If the greatest sorcerer in the modern age could neither explain nor help the slumbering girl, then what hope was there? An uncomfortable twisting in his guts warned him of what was to come. Megumi had never been a negative child, at least not in his perspective. He always considered himself a realist, and for those who were innately bright and positive, his opinions were always seen as dour and harsh.
It was fact in a world where people died . . and mothers and fathers died and disappeared. Megumi was not completely alone however. He was blessed that his ability which would, realistically, be his own demise provided him with company. Kuro and Shiro had been lifelines of sort when the pressures of existing continued to accumulate, yet he did not want to rub his melancholy unto his divine dogs. All of jujutsu society would have found it queer as shikigami were solely seen as tools even a means to an end. They were part of his soul, his friends, and his most trusted allies; he loved them.
Already he could hear them whining and pressing their wet noses against his face. He wanted it. He shouldn't rely on them too much. Megumi dropped his arms from around his legs and lightly patted the leaf littered ground. The boy had homework to do and school to attend early in the morning, but he didn't care if he made it back to the lonely apartment he and his sister shared before it got dark. Living in the heart of Tokyo ( rather the liver where toxins accumulated ), of all of his life, he hated the bustle and noise more and more each year.
The forest with wind moving through leaves, invertebrates moving through the soil, and mammals running about — it was the peace he dreamed of. He cocked his head to the side, lying cheek on the unscathed part of his knee, and watched as he drew idle circles into the dirt. Disregarding his poor artistic skills, he drew shapes of snakes and barking dogs under a full moon. Anything short of a frown adorning the teen's face was a positive. Neutrality nearly bathed in numbness carried him through the minutes and the hours until . . Eager the boy was as the sound of potential wildlife moving through the woods captured his entire attention. Gemstone eyes scanned past dense grass and trees with breath caught in his throat.
