This may be a triggering chapter if you suffer from family related trauma, especially a poor relationship with your mother. I did not time this to come out around a holiday season, I intended to write this chapter for quite a while. The weight of reality has insisted upon making this my outlet. And for anyone whom this may resonate with,
**you deserved so much more than what you got.***
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It's okay, you tell yourself as your feet pound the pavement of the sidewalk. You can do this. It's just for a few hours. Nanami holds the door open for you, the pressing weight of dread growing exponentially when you see people inside turn to see who's coming in. It's your Aunt Tami who greets you.
"Well, look who finally decided to join us!"
Dejectedly you turn to Nanami.
"Are you sure you don't wanna kill me instead? We can do a double funeral."
He doesn't laugh at your weak joke, but gives a motion for you to go inside, following behind. Your aunt bustles up to hug you like she's an old friend. She's definitely one of those things.
"It's been too long! You look... good surprisingly," She appraises you from head to toe. She always had a way with words like that. You aren't feeling particularly good natured today, however.
"You too. It's good to see you gave up the girdle life. Letting it all hang out these days, aren't you?"
She gapes at you in horror, struggling to come up with a retort. Then she turns her attention to your escort.
"And who's this? Who have you brought with you?"
Thankfully, true to his word, he makes his own introduction, though he only gives her the barest minimum of details. He must sense her intentions.
"Greetings. My name is Kento Nanami. Teacher at Jujutsu Technical University. Pleased to make your acquaintance."
"Ahh, your teacher? Well that's not something new for you is it?" She gives a sly look your way. You can tell she's already twisting this into a more devious storyline suitable for repeating later. Like you give a shit.
"You bet. His dick is still wet from the parking lot. Why don't you run along and go tell everyone now?"
She chokes audibly now, mortified that you'd speak to her in such a way, but you make your way past her to the guest book table in the lobby. Nanami is close at your heels.
"Are you out of your mind?" He sounds only slightly flustered, trying to keep his voice down. "Now she's going to tell everyone that we're... we're-" He can't form the words himself, it's almost cute.
"Yeah, well she'd have done that anyway. It would have been the same if I rode up on a horse." You pick up the ballpoint pen from the desktop to sign the book, frowning at it. There's a drawer that's unlocked. You find a fat tipped black felt marker. Perfect. You sign and let the marker clatter rudely after capping it. Nanami looks over your shoulder, it's apparent that his trust in you is rapidly declining. You don't find yourself particularly caring. He glares in shock but doesn't say a word when he reads that you've signed your name as "Dick Wunderlich."
The room isn't exactly quiet, there's a constant murmur of your distant relatives. Distant here meaning in the way that they kept their distance from you. You already recognized a few cousins, and two of your uncles with their families. No one approaches you, but a few cast dubious glances your way. The glances are of course followed by whispers. Damn, didn't you miss this?
"Here's a memorial card," Nanami offers you a narrow slip of paper. It has your mother's photo on it with a description of her life. Your lip curls in disgust.
"No thanks..." You refuse it at first, then an idea for later hits you. It's not laminated paper or finished cardstock. It might be fun to roll a joint with it with Itadori tonight.
"Actually, you can take one for me. Just fold it and keep it in your pocket."
"Why don't you take it?" He asks in a puzzled tone.
"Because I'm already carrying the stupid flowers so I'm not touching it," You explain, your own voice rising slightly.
Threatening to make a scene in an attempt to get what you want isn't something you enjoy doing, but his composure can't last long against your attitude. Not in a crowded room like this where he didn't want to attract unwanted attention on himself. He has to play along for now and folds the memoir in half, tucking it into the breast pocket of his jacket. The mild stir from your outburst attracts someone else's attention though.
"Umm, excuse me? But are you..." A quiet voice behind you and a light touch on your elbow makes you turn around. There's a young girl with long, light brown hair in a black dress. She looks very familiar.
"Oh my gosh! It is you!" She throws her arms around you, hugging and shaking you with excitement. When she pulls away still laughing, she stops short when she sees you still look confused.
"You... don't recognize me? Well, I guess you did move out when I was still like five, right? I only remember the one picture I had of you growing up... I hope you've been okay?"
You're frozen in place, watching the memories roll back in slow motion until you finally see her the way she used to look. She's gotten taller, but her dad was tall too. She didn't get her height from your mom. She did have her eyes though.
"I'm really glad you came," Your sister says again, looking very near tears this time. "I have to... um, get the music started. I'm in charge of the music. See you?" She pats your arm and excuses herself. There's a loud sniffle when she's out of sight.
You sense Nanami at your side again, he must've been hanging back when he saw a family member approaching.
"Exactly how long has it been since you've been around your family?" He asks.
You don't reply at first as you amble into a side room with no one else inside. You leave the light off, plopping into a squeaky leather chair, making a point not to look in the direction of the people outside. You twist the stems of your roses together into a braid absently.
"Ten years. Or twelve. Something like that. When I dropped out of school we had a huge fight. Mom never really forgave me for wasting the opportunity I had. Or their money either."
"I see. One of those types of families." He doesn't sit in the chair next to you, but remains standing, conveniently blocking the view through doorway and into the other room. You briefly wonder if he did this intentionally.
"Why are you here if you clearly don't want to be?"
You spin yourself in the chair in a slow circle, kicking your feet to repeat the motion. Your mom used to have an office with a chair like this.
"What was I supposed to say? 'No thanks. I actually hate my mom'?"
"Well it would have saved me gas money," He quirks an eyebrow at you, indicating he's not being serious.
There's an odd relief when he doesn't chastise you for what you've said. Anyone else would most likely shame you, saying you're supposed to love your mom no matter what. An easy thing to say when their own mother is probably loving and thoughtful. Not the type to forget their kid at church or the mall or school.
"A lot must have changed in a decade," He says evenly.
"Yeah," You agree. "I... didn't know my own sister."
"She looked excited to see you."
"That's because she was five when I left home. She's never really met me." You face away from Nanami on purpose.
"I used to hate her. When I lived at home, I mean. Our folks didn't plan on a fourth kid, and when my mom told everyone she was pregnant I remember thinking that she looked so defeated. Plus, she was sick the whole time, from gout to heartburn, and we all had to hear about it as teenagers. And of course we had to help with the new baby too. They considered it the best birth control."
"I can't imagine it not helping in that fashion," He comments, again remaining neutral.
"Yeah, I mean, obviously I didn't start a family. I saw my brothers out there, too. They didn't look like they had kids with them. I hated having a baby sister. She was loud and annoying and gross, like all babies are."
"Plenty of people feel that way. I'll bet you outgrew that immature resentment, too."
He was right about that.
You didn't face him yet. Not for what else you wanted to say. You're not sure why you're dumping all this baggage onto a stranger. Maybe it's his neutrality, or the way he's still blocking the doorway almost protectively from your family brood.
"A few years after I moved out, I came across a bunch of old books I had read as a kid. I loved reading. My mom had told me that my sister did too. So I boxed them up and mailed them to her as a gift."
"She must have loved that," You swear you can hear the smile in his voice.
"She never got them. My mother, OUR mother intercepted the mail to see what I'd sent. Then she returned them to me. All of them."
"What was her reasoning for that?"
"She said... she didn't want her turning out like me. And she thought that the books I read made me the way I am."
"What do you mean 'the way you are?'"
You gesture flippantly toward thr other room. "Just...not like them. It's always been like this. Like everyone knows something about me that I don't. I've always been kept at a distance. So I just stayed tucked away in my room out of everyone's way. Nice and convenient, the way they wanted. Even after I moved out, I wouldn't bother them for anything, no matter how badly I needed it. It was easier than reminding them I existed. The last thing my mom and I talked about was a family reunion. She wanted me to drive her to the airport. I wasn't even fucking invited."
Nanami says nothing, he just listens. Who's to know if he cares about your pitiful problems or your rancid family. There's a sound of piano music starting, signaling the beginning of the memorial.
"Well...Shall we face the music?" You ask. "Let's see if they actually lipsticked this pig."
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There's not many people, but you still choose a seat in the very back row. Far enough away so Nanami only can hear any necessary commentary you may need to make. A man you're positive isn't related to you takes to the podium at the front of the room. Right behind mom's casket.
You hadn't thought she would have been the casket type. It's weird to see. Weirder still that it's white. She hated white. It stains too easily.
The speaker introduces himself, beginning his speech on the life of a woman he may or may not have known, but you can't stop staring at the garish casket. There are only two bouquets of flowers, both are lilies. Which she didn't even like. Always said they smelled like cat piss.
Why did no one else know these things, but you? Your sister organized everything, why would she pick these colors and flowers mother hated? You stand in your seat for no reason other than to see what mom is wearing in the casket. It's a dark green velvet dress.
Of fucking course she gets buried in that dress. It's her favorite. She never wore it once when you were growing up, always saying she had to lose more weight to look her best in it. But there had been an enormous fight when she came home from work early one day to find that you had put it on, and were gazing at yourself in her mirror thinking you were home alone. You'd never heard the end of that one. There was a laundry list of things more important to her than you, and some of those things were literal laundry.
You seat yourself back down with Nanami regarding you to make sure all is well. You shake your head, indicating nothing is wrong. But as the funeral director continues, you find yourself feeling more and more sick to your stomach. Your chest is hurting too. You take a long steadying breath through your nose. Nanami fishes a folded handkerchief from his lapel and offers it to you. You accept it even though you're not sure if you are actually about to cry. It feels more like a panic attack. Or a stroke maybe? You sniff the air to make sure you don't smell copper or burnt toast. No, all good. This must just be what emotions come from seeing Mommy Dearest in a box. The director continues his speech.
"A devoted wife, beloved by her church. A mother of three, and a dedicated nurse..."
"What... What did he say?" You turn to Nanami, positive you've misheard in your state of shock.
"Uh...'mother of three," He confirms.
But three would be-
You glance at the first row of seats up ahead, seeing your sister sitting between your two brothers. One, two, three.
And you. Sitting in the back row with a man you've only met today, but otherwise alone.
"I... have to go to the bathroom," You mutter and shuffle past your perplexed escort. He tolerantly pulls back his shoes, letting you step by. The door to the lobby slams loudly behind you.
It's then that you notice the photo that someone had displayed for the service. A blown up old family portrait your childhood church had taken for their directory featuring members and their immediate family. It's been cropped as well, you notice. Except for a single phantom hand one might overlook resting on your mother's shoulder, you'd been cut out completely.
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There's not many places to go since it's a one story building. So you take the stairwell to the roof. Tears are stinging your eyes at last, but you hold back your loudest sobs until you hear the door click shut behind you and feel the cool breeze of evening. Then you let it out, collapsing on your knees and hiding your face in folded arms. You drop the roses Itadori had given you, no longer caring what happens to them.
emphThis is so stupid. They didn't even want me here! And I don't want to be here! Why did I come?/emph
The pressure has finally gotten to you. The accumulating dread of what you might see coming face to face with your family after so long had manifested itself just as you'd expected. You were nothing more than a ghost to them. A fleeting slip of memory that haunted few, maybe even less than that.
You wipe your eyes on your uniform sleeve, leaving a streak of makeup behind on the dark blue fabric.
"Fuck..." There goes all of Nobara's hard work. You had looked so good too. Now your face is a running mess muddied with running concealer.
You audibly gasp when an enormous pitch black shadow swoops across the expanse of the rooftop. What the hell was that?! Leaping to your feet, you're nearly ready to call for Ryomen's assistance, but catch yourself when you recognize the bird silhouette overhead.
Nue. It's Megumi's shikigami. Your friend drops easily to the roof when his beast dematerializes in midair, bending his knees on impact and flipping his hair back out of his face for the most dramatic entrance you've ever witnessed
"Fushiguro!" You can't help how surprised you sound. It's not everyday a boy falls from the sky.
"Hey," He says breezily. "I thought... I thought you might need some back up."
You're stunned for a moment, staring at him with your mouth hanging open. He really flew all this way just for you?
Fushiguro takes in your current state apprehensively. It's obvious you've been crying. You can't lie to him anymore.
"You okay?"
You sniffle hard, wiping your eyes with the handkerchief Nanami had given you. More of your makeup wipes away.
"I didn't even want to come. I don't care about any of these assholes. And they obviously don't care about me either."
He nods. Again, not someone who seems like he's going to berate you for speaking ill of your family.
"Sometimes," He starts, "Family is more harm than good. Not everyone will understand that though."
You nod in agreement.
"There's a reason I cut everyone off. No one here supports who I am, or even knows the real me. They have this idea in their heads of who I should be-"
"And you've never once lived up to that expectation?"
"Right."
"But what about your expectations of them? Did they meet any of those when you were vulnerable and reliant on them?" Fushiguro asks.
You shake your head.
"Of course not... They were lousy at keeping me safe. And nothing was ever-"
"Their fault?" He finishes.
You turn to him with only a little annoyance. "Why are you and I on the same wavelength?"
He still doesn't look at you.
"Because... I understand having a useless, toxic family. I lost my mom when I was little. Never knew my dad. Like, at all? My blood relatives are, let's say unapproachable. The closest thing I've ever had to a father figure... is Gojo."
Oh. That explained alot.
"Is he... still alive? Your real dad?" You ask tentatively.
"I'm not sure. I think so. A lot of people know him, I'm sure I'd have heard if someone or something got the best of him. But I don't imagine I'd feel anything about his death."
"Yeah... Hard to miss someone who was never there for you." You agree.
"I know how that feels..."
emphSo why are you crying?/emph You can't help but wonder.
"Do you wanna get out of here?" Fushiguro asks. You gesture hopelessly to the edge of the roof, guarded by thick concrete and a very steep drop.
"How can we do that? Besides, Nanami will come looking for me soon."
He meets your gaze with a wry smile.
"Just answer me. Do you want to leave? Yes or no?"
You sniffle again,
"Yes."
"Then let's go," He folds his hands over his chest, fingers spread.
"Nue," He chants. His shadow spreads out along the wall. His bird shikigami reforms and stretches its wings. It hops up onto his master's shoulders.
"You have to hold onto me, okay?"
Fushiguro pulls you in tightly. You squeeze your arms around his middle, trusting him to take you away from here. Anywhere else.
There's a gust from Nue's powerful wings, then the sensation of your feet leaving the ground causes you to squeal and clutch Megumi desperately tighter. He wraps both of his arms around your back securely.
"I've got you." He whispers as the rooftop shrinks away beneath you.
Something in the way he says it makes heat rise to your cheeks.
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Nue carries the two of you for only a short distance as he is mainly used to carrying one human at a time. Settling on what looks like an open field, the beast deposits you both softly on the grass before vanishing into a whisp of smoke.
"This is as far as we should probably venture. We can go for a walk or something until it's time to head back." Megumi offers.
"But what about Nanami? I don't want him thinking I've run away." Even though that's precisely what you did, you think with bitterness.
"I'm texting him right now. I'll tell him I'm the one who suggested we hang out somewhere close to avoid the service." He starts typing a message on his phone. "If he gets upset, I'll take the heat for it."
"You don't have to do that," You start to protest, but he puts a finger up to stop you.
"Today is a rough day. You deserve a break." He puts his phone away and gives you a gentle smile. "I'll bet you skipped eating today again, didn't you?"
Sheepishly you nod. Without Ryomen around to pester you about eating, it had slipped your mind. You spare a moment to wonder what he could be doing. Probably rifling through your most private memories at his amusement, no doubt.
"You really shouldn't skip meals so much. We can go get something together if you'd like?"
Fresh tears sting your eyes, threatening to spill over again. Fushiguro is so thoughtful, you find yourself nodding in agreement. "Thank you."
"Can I have that?" He points to the handkerchief you're holding. You let him take it, unsure what he wants.
Until he begins dabbing at your cheek carefully with the cloth. "Your face is a bit of a mess. Might as well get the rest of this stuff off. It's not hiding anything now."
You close your eyes, allowing him to remove the last of your makeup. He cradles your head with his other hand, his thumb catching the last of your tears. You sigh deeply, your breath finally sounding even and calm again.
"We should probably do something to conceal your markings though... Not that there's anything wrong with them, I just don't think you'd want anybody staring at you. How about a mask?" He hands you a plastic package with a plain black face mask inside. It's very subtle, and will conceal the markings on the sides of your cheeks, nose and chin. Your forehead and sleepy extra eyelids would be more of a challenge.
"Maybe behind your hair?" Megumi's fingertips slide through your hair, pulling a bit forward and arranging it to cover part of your face. You hold still as he touches you, peeking up from behind your mask. His eyes looked alot more blue than usual today.
As if suddenly aware and embarrassed by his doting actions, Fushiguro steps back, muttering, "There, you look good. Nobody should give you any weird looks. Lots of people wear masks."
"Thank you. Again."
After walking only a few blocks in bashful silence, you find a noodle house. You don't feel very hungry, but spending time like this with Megumi is nice. You both opt to go inside.
There's alot of customers here since it's nearing dinnertime. You have to sit pressed thigh to thigh in a small two person booth since there are no other tables. A waitress doesn't come by to take your orders, but the cook yells from the back to ask what you want. Awkwardly shouting over the noise of the rush, you order two bowls of ramen.
The restaurant sounds of dishes clinking and cooks shouting orders reminds you of your old job. When your food is brought to your table, you arrange the toppings of your soup absently, not quite hungry still, but you do remove your mask for the time being.
"You said you used to eat at that diner with Gojo after missions, right? The place where worked?"
He looks up from his soup with what looks like embarassment, a small bit of noodle clinging to his chin. So cute.
He clears his throat,
"Yeah, that's right. I loved the katsu there."
"Katsu is the same everywhere," You argue. "It's chicken with breadcrumbs."
"Yeah well... I wanted to eat it there."
He looks back to his soup, face flushed from more than just the heat of the chili oil.
You stare quietly, not feeling the least bit shy about it anymore, even when his eyes flicker briefly back to yours, holding your gaze.
There's a jingle at the door behind you signaling a new customer walking in. Fushiguro's posture straightens and his expression turns serious. That could only mean it's someone he knows.
"Well, I hope you're almost done with this little side quest of yours?" Nanami's tone doesn't betray any blatant anger, but there is definitely an edge from his patience being tested to the limit today. You look up at him, feeling very ashamed for making him come collect you. Megumi speaks first so you don't have to defend your actions.
"I found them on the roof. They were overwhelmed by the service. I'm the one who suggested we leave to give them space to clear their head, just like I messaged you." He adds the last sentence in what sounds like a testament of his responsible intentions.
Nanami doesn't look so easily swayed, but does take in your dishevelled, smudged makeup. He crosses his arms.
"I've parked my car around front. We're leaving as soon as you've finished and returning to campus. Agreed?"
"Sure, okay." You slump in your seat. Some last day out this shaped up to be.
After Nanami exits to wait for the two of you in the car, you let your gaze drift back to Fushiguro. He has a slightly troubled look on his face and his jaw is set tight. He's probably going to face another reprimanding for your sake yet again. He keeps getting into trouble looking out for you like this. He's too kind for his own good. It's difficult to feel flattered with this guilt piling up.
"Um, hey, Megumi? I know you've already done a lot for me today, and I really appreciate you. But I need to ask for one more favor, please?"
"Anything," he smiles. "Name it."
You lean in closer, and make your request to him. He gives your shoulder a small squeeze of reassurance and promises he can make it happen.
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Nanami's car pulls to a stop once again parking in the lot of the funeral home. The memorial service should be over by now, meaning no people. The burial would be following a short reception, so there shouldn't be anyone with the casket before then. You had decided you wanted to see her one last time, and had Fushiguro help convince Nanami to let you go back inside alone.
"We'll be waiting here, okay? You sure you don't want one of us to go in with you?" Megumi offers again.
You shake your head.
"No... I think I should face this just me and... her. you know?" You bite your lip nervously, readjusting the mask Megumi had given you and shut the car door. Nanami had returned your flowers to you, having rescued them from the rooftop when he went looking for you earlier. There's a pinch of a thorn in your palm as you swing the entrance door open and step inside the dimly lit lobby.
The family portrait had been removed from the display stand, and the guestbook had already been replaced with a new empty one. There must be another service starting soon.
Inside the memorial hall, the man who gave your mother's eulogy is straightening up stacks of leftover programs left untaken by family members.
"Umm... excuse me?" You call softly, not wanting to alarm him suddenly.
"Yes? How may I help you?" He gives you a cheery smile, which is more offputting than welcoming. A happy funeral director is majorly creepy.
"Uhh... I was here before. Where is... the body from the last service?"
He gestures to a side door adjacent to him, "In that waiting room. The hearse will be around in about half an hour to take it to the burial plot. Needing to say final goodbyes?" His eyes soften. You can only nod, your throat beginning to constrict painfully.
"Go right ahead," He opens the door with a small creaking sound splitting the silence. "I'll give you privacy. There's plenty of other things I have to do before the next service."
With that he leaves the chapel, leaving you and mom alone.
It's several minutes before you can force yourself to step into the room where her white casket lies, glowing stark in the dimness like a ghost. The lid is closed. Part of you nearly expects it to open on its own. Maybe Mom will sit up to criticize what you wore to her funeral. You could almost hear imagine the disgust in her voice. She'd say something like "Since when do you not wear black anymore?" Or "You didn't even dress formal!" You're positive she must want to say least say something about the brown shoes issues for your uniform instead of a more sensible and stylish black.
"Some program you've gotten yourself into," she'd say. "They can't even help you dress right either."
Now you're ready to open the lid. The handle is cold in your fingers. You almost hope it wouldn't open, but it does. Mom's still lying there inside in her favorite green velvet dress, hands neatly folded across her chest. She's not wearing any jewelry. Your sister must have her wedding rings. Glancing down, you see she's been dressed in sensible black shoes. She wouldnt be caught dead in brown. There is the smallest run in her stockings too. You look up at her face last.
Her brow, which was knit in life with constant frustrations and fatigue, laid nearly smooth. Whoever had done her makeup had chosen a natural shade for her lips and cheeks. She looked like herself. She really didn't though. Not lying peaceful like that. This isn't who you remember. Removing your mask, you put it in your pocket.
"Hi... Mom," Your words sound strange and out of place. "It's me. I bet... I bet you didn't think I'd come. But I did. In fact, a part of me has been looking forward to this for a long time. Even though it feels like you've already been dead for a long time.
"My hair is alot different now, my face too. I've tried alcohol, and I even smoke weed. I've had a lot of sex with different people. You'd be really pissed to hear any of this, I'm sure. Let's see, what else? Definitely did not go to church anymore after moving out. Oh! My current sort-of boyfriend- you might call him that, we do fuck a lot- is an ancient demon who killed millions of humans when he was at his most powerful thousands of years ago. But he likes me, isn't that amazing? He likes how I dress, my attitude, how I argue with him. It's like all of the things about me that you hated... he actually enjoys that the most. Fascinating stuff, Ma. You really should be here to see me."
Mom doesn't say anything.
"And I'm a lot stronger than when you threw me away years ago. I had to be, I didn't have a fucking mother. But you, you got to have your big happy family, didn't you? That's nice. That's really, really wholesome. The service was beautiful, except your favorite kids got you the wrong flowers and the wrong color box to bury you in. A nice boy I'm talking to, not the ancient Curse, a human I mean, he gave me these roses to give to you. Isn't that thoughtful? I've decided you're not getting them, but it's the thought that matters, right? You taught me that. Thinking of someone is what matters most. And praying for them. Much more important than calling or visiting someone in person. Let's talk to the man in the clouds about how to care for a human you fucking created."
Again, Mom says nothing.
"Well, if this is the attitude you're going to have I don't know why I bothered to come all the way here in the first place. You look fat in that dress by the way. You'd be very embarrassed to know you died without making it back to your high school weight like you always wanted. Or you could suck in your stomach like you were reminding me for years to do. Anything for a more attractive kid, right? So suck your fucking stomach in, Mom. The undertaker probably had to leave you unzipped in the back, didn't he? Well you didn't buy a nicer dress in thirty years afterall. You hated that you were changing and your body was too. Well some things come no matter what. Don't they? And you can't suck in your stomach while lying in a coffin."
You hold up the white roses, bundled by the satin ribbon, wrapped up and tied with such loving care by Itadori. They really are too nice for her. Staring at them and twisting the stems in your fingertips a spark begins to smolder in between.
"You made my life hell, you know that? You gave me so many demons I had to fight on my own that I had given up. But this new life of mine is going to be much different. You see, I'm not held back anymore by the fear of disappointing someone in life because you've made sure I can't attach myself to anyone. I don't care about losing my soul when I die. Someone is already taking excellent care of it. So you can rest in peace over me. Mommy Dearest."
There's a brilliant burst of flame from your fingertips and the flowers are engulfed. You drop them into the casket and shut the lid. Calmly, you put your mask back on, and stride out through the chapel doors.
When you return to the car, Nanami and Megumi look at you with expecting faces. "Well, how did it go?" Megumi inquires.
You buckle your seatbelt and settle in for the long ride. "It was... cathartic."