Truthfully, Megumi thought that he would hate you. He didn’t have the patience and kindness needed to deal with a spoiled snot nosed clan kid. He respected Inumaki, sure. And he liked Maki despite her relationship to the Zen’in clan, which he decidedly does not like. And he wasn’t sure how much he really respected Gojo at this point.

The point of it is, he had met his fair share of stuck up clan sorcerers that think they’re better then everyone, and he was too easily irritated to work with one day-to-day.

But surprisingly enough, he didn’t hate you. You were quiet, polite, and had a relaxing atmosphere that he sometimes found himself drawn too. A stark and somewhat soothing contrast to the tornado of Itadori, Kugisaki, and Gojo.

You were strong too, he knew. You must’ve been if you were the one sent by your clan, but you have yet to actually spar with anyone besides basic hand to hand combat. He couldn’t help the urge to ask why. The urge to get to know you, something that he has never quite possessed before.

The streets of Tokyo were hot and crowded as the five walk from different stalls and venders. Megumi just wanted to go home. All of them just finished a mission and yet Gojo seemed to have an abundance of energy. Constantly trying to push his buttons or rile up Itadori into doing something stupid with him.

He watched quietly, before turning back to look at you. Quiet as ever, and yet you seemed almost at peace. He falls into step with you subconsciously, his eyes flickering from you back to the other three.