Chapter Text
Takahashi dodges another gaping hole in the sidewalk, nearly dropping the urn in her hands. The streets around Shinjuku had been littered with them for the past month, a reminder of the sheer destruction that had occurred out of nowhere and decimated the entire area, and only two months after the same thing occurred in Shibuya.
The news called it a tragedy of unknown origin. Conspiracy forums online pointed fingers at foreign states and even Japan’s own government, claiming it was some kind of cleansing, or worse, the beginning of a third world war.
The general consensus seemed to be that something powerful had appeared, killing hundreds of unassuming civilians on two separate holidays and destroying entire blocks before vanishing overnight without any answers.
Takahashi saw it as the worst thing to happen to her since…well, ever.
Yuki’s voice looped in her mind, over and over. The two of them, standing outside the elementary school after a long day of helping kindergarteners with macaroni art and typing their shoelaces. Yuki’s insistence that “Dressing up would be so much fun”, and “A little partying on a Friday never hurt anyone, really!”
Her refusing, because Shibuya was way too far from her apartment and going out was honestly the last thing she wanted to do after the week she had. Their final, halfhearted farewell with the promise to spend time with each other the week after.
The funeral, with a mere half dozen people in attendance, and the last of her belongings and remains entrusted with Takahashi. Her absence for the past three months, going through the motions and forgetting to celebrate the new year. Seeing winter begin to thaw, and realizing she would have to fulfill Yuki’s wish sooner or later and pulling herself out of bed despite everything because if nothing else she had to see this through.
Her phone buzzed, alerting her to take a right down a rather dingy alleyway. Normally she would avoid taking unnecessary shortcuts, but today it would have to do. Ducking to avoid a stray pipe that had embedded itself into the wall of the narrow opening she continued down the road, the sunlight just barely visible as she walked.
Something whispers to her, attempting to cling onto her back. The darkness between stray trash bags seems far too deep, as if threatening to swallow her whole if she dared step on it just like the gaping craters on the main street.
Takahashi has long accepted the odd movements in the corner of her eye, and the creatures she passes by at night that seem to be more than just a stray cat or dog. More recently, the nightmares and sinking feeling that one of those creatures has decided to come home with her have been taken in stride as well.
Her therapist tells her it’s grief. Takahashi thinks it may be something worse.
She’s nearly out of the alley when something grabs her by the leg and pulls. Takahashi lets out a shout as she falls backwards, clinging desperately onto the bright yellow urn even as her phone goes flying and her vision blurs. She turns, expecting a mugger or some other criminal only to be greeted by an ugly mass of limbs with one, bloodshot eye in the center.
Her breath catches in her throat, fight or flight kicking in as she flails helplessly, the beast picking her up as if she weighed nothing and slowly unhinging its jaw. Takahashi nearly vomits as a tongue the color of tar reaches upwards to touch her with a life of its own, even more eyes popping out of the appendage to stare at her.
It starts to lower her in slowly, as if savoring her terrified sobs and the despair written all over her face. She pleads helplessly, a garbled stream of words leaving her mouth that she could barely even register.
A tooth, or perhaps a fang brushes against her leg and her life flashes before her eyes. Takahashi thinks of her mother, waiting for her to visit. Of her students, lining up on Monday morning to yet another substitute teacher. Hell, even the waitress at her favorite restaurant.
The only regret she has, Takahashi thinks, is that she won’t be able to fulfill her best friend’s wish. She shuts her eyes tightly, determined not to witness her own demise.
A series of barks ring out, and her eyes immediately spring open again, her head swivelling back to the path she had just taken just in time to catch sight of two black and white dogs with a familiar sigil on their foreheads.
A mess of spiky black hair runs after them, his face obscured by the high collar of his uniform and it clicks into place, a memory surfacing.
The dogs. Her very own student from what feels like an eternity ago. The rotating cast of strange guardians and even stranger events. One sister and a concerning lack of parents or knowledge of what happened to them.
Before she knows it, she’s lying on cold concrete rather than dangling in the air. Megumi Fushiguro stares down at her, the same look of recognition on his face. He’s taller, a little more lean without the baby fat and with small scars around his eyes that look more intentional than accidental.
The rest of her train of thought is derailed as the situation truly sets in. Swallowing down the bile in her throat and trying to compose herself as best as possible (which she fails to do, sue her), Takahashi has only one question.
“What the hell just happened?”
-
They end up in a cafe nearby, the sounds of jazz and conversation around them failing to alleviate the awkward tension between the two. Takahashi’s phone, broken beyond repair, sits uselessly in her jacket pocket. Megumi sits across from her, both hands clenched in his lap.
“I don’t even know where to begin,” he blurts, seemingly apologetic. “I didn’t even think–Gojo said the situation at the elementary school was taken care of, should’ve known he cut corners.”
Takahashi stirs the mug of coffee in front of her, using the same tone she takes with her students when she wants to make it clear that ‘you aren’t in trouble, but the situation is serious and you better tell the truth or God help me’. “You can start with whatever that thing in the alley was.”
“Well, when people have negative emotions…”
-
Takahashi feels like her head is going to implode. Her coffee has gone cold, but she has yet to take a single sip.
“You mean to tell me, the reason for those strange events last year, and all those people who died…was curses?”
Megumi nods, his expression completely serious. If this is all an elaborate prank, he’s doing a very good job of keeping a straight face. “Yeah. One much stronger than the one you saw earlier. I won’t go into any further detail, but…that’s the gist of it.”
Takahashi is silent for a moment, her gaze drifting to the urn next to her, still thankfully intact.
Yuki’s death. All of those people. Shibuya crossing.
All because of a force that nobody could have predicted, her included. All an afterthought apparently, a mere side effect of the world of shamans and curses and everything she had no desire to participate in but had come for her anyways.
A part of her is angry. Angry that Yuki had been taken by monsters that didn’t even register her as anything other than entertainment. Angry at this entirely new world of jujutsu sorcerers for allowing Megumi, still too young to even drive, to put his life on the line every other week, all for the sake of a country that didn’t even know they existed.
She thinks back to her own classes. To the highschoolers that she encounters sometimes, carefree and thinking of where to go after school instead of training to use a cursed technique in order to avoid certain death.
Another part mourns for the lives lost, for Yuki who never got to finish her bucket list and Megumi who probably didn’t even have the freedom to come up with one at all. For all the other nameless sorcerers, each one sentenced to an early grave the second their techniques manifested.
How many curses had Megumi exorcized himself? How many had Gojo, or Shoko and Nanami for that matter?
How many friends had they lost in the process?
She stares at her old student’s face, covered in scars.
Takahashi doesn’t know much about jujutsu even after Megumi has laid out the basics, but she knows the look in his eyes all too well, the same one she sees in kids who have known nothing but tragedy their whole lives and have grown numb to the feeling of loss and pain. She knows it from her own reflection, staring back at her as the days without Yuki had crawled by.
Acceptance. Acceptance and resignation.
Megumi continues, explaining just a little more. “Gojo probably forgot to make sure you weren’t seeing any of the curses, otherwise the school should have sent someone to make sure nothing latched onto you. I apologize on his behalf.”
The strange things she would see. The grotesque noises she was told were hallucinations. Her heart stutters, and she takes a deep breath as if trying to calm herself. “I see. I think…I think I understand it now.”
-
Megumi had insisted on escorting her to her destination after.
“It was my fault you lost your phone anyways,” he told her, “And besides, I’m long overdue a visit there anyways.”
“If you’re sure,” Takahashi agreed, albeit reluctantly. They set off at a steady pace, Megumi clearly knowing the route better than her as he went down a series of twists and turns. The storefronts blur together, a mix of shuttered windows and signs reading ‘closed’ in big, bold letters, all yet to recover from the damages they sustained. A few remained open, instantly drawing her attention.
Takahashi’s eyes catch on a small flower shop, assorted bouquets set outside for passersby to gawk at. Megumi notices immediately, stopping in his tracks to take a look as well.
Takahashi smiles. “Do you mind if I take a look?”
“Of course not,” Megumi nods, reaching for a few spare bills in his pocket, “I might get some as well. It's a bit rude to show up empty handed, and if I know anything about the people I’m visiting they would definitely bring it up.”
She can’t help but laugh at that, the sound almost foreign to her after so long. It shocks her a little, how easily it comes. Her laughter still feels bitter, and perhaps it always will, but it’s real nonetheless and Takahashi knows Yuki would be proud.
Takahashi can hear her giggling, eyes upturned as she holds her hand. “See, was that so hard? Me being a little occupied doesn’t mean I expect you to be a killjoy in my absence, ‘kay!?”
They browse the plants together, the plastic around each stem crinkling as Takahashi picks each one up to inspect. She wasn’t the best with them, but Yuki always enjoyed the brightly colored blooms and being around her all the time meant she recognized at least a few of the species.
Roses. Lilies. Hydrangeas. Each one finds a place in her arms. Options are limited due to the season, but a few eye-catching flowers still remain.
Megumi is standing as still as a statue in front of the carnations. Takahashi moves to stand next to him, admiring the pale pinks and whites. “What are you getting?”
Megumi shrugs, picking up three bundles of the carnations; two in white, and one in pink. “These, I guess.”
“Here,” Takahashi says, reaching out one of her hands, “I’ll pay for them. Don’t worry about it.”
She doesn’t bother asking who they’re for. They were people important to her student, and that’s all she needed to know.
When she finishes with her own flowers, the bouquet is nearly the size of her head. The cashier barely even blinks when she pays for everything, going right back to sleep as soon as they leave. Takahashi hands Megumi his bouquets, readjusting her grip on her own, and they continue their walk in silence.
-
The cemetery is different from what Takahashi expected. Her entire life she had assumed they were dreary places, where the sadness was palpable and the sky turned grey as you walked through the graves.
This one, however, was something you could easily mistake for a park if not for the headstones lining the path and dotting the hills. Despite how large the space was, it was mostly empty aside from the passing visitor or groundskeeper.
Takahashi took a deep breath, and the lingering smell of incense immediately hit her. A quick survey of her surroundings and most of the graves were dotted with incense sticks as well as flowers, some still burning. “We should’ve brought a couple of those too,” she mumbled, thinking out loud. “That’s what people do, right?”
Megumi fishes around in his pocket for a bit, his steps never faltering. Eventually, he pulls out a packet of brand new jasmine scented sticks, as well as a tiny censer with a packet of sand and a lighter. Takahashi decides not to think too hard about how he managed to fit everything inside when it looked barely big enough for more than the sand alone. Or when he managed to get them in the first place.
“Here,” he says, tearing open the packet and holding out a few of the incense sticks as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “I bought some earlier. We can share.”
“Are you sure?” Takahashi asks nervously, “I wouldn’t want to use them if you need them.”
“There’s a lot to go around.”
Takahashi takes them from his hands. They’re rough and calloused, so unlike the smooth skin she remembers from his younger years under her care.
“Thanks.”
-
They eventually end up next to a small pond, devoid of fish but covered with water lilies that make up for it.
“I don’t mean to be rude, but why visit the cemetery when your friend is…well…” his gaze drifts to the urn in her hands, and Takahashi instantly understands what he’s getting at.
“Oh!” Takahashi stared at him in surprise, not expecting the question. “Well, it’s just a request from her. Don’t worry too much about it.”
Yuki had asked her both in person and in her will, an afterthought after she had realized how expensive a cemetery plot was.
“Yo, Takahashi, even if I’m too broke for a grave I still wanna end up in a cemetary, ‘kay?”
Takahashi had given her a look, swallowing the school cafeteria food still in her mouth before replying with a deadpan stare. “I’m not becoming a grave digger for you, sorry.”
“Not what I meant!” Yuki scowled, smacking her on the shoulder.
Takahashi put up her hands in surrender, allowing her friend to shake her from side to side. “Well what else am I supposed to think!?”
“I meant to sprinkle my ashes into the grass or something inside the cemetery, duh! That way I can still be in one without having to pay a single cent!”
“Is there even a point then? There’s literally no difference between the cemetery and your parent’s house or somethi-”
“There is! Now are you in or not?”
Takahashi sighed, taking another bite of her lunch. “I guess if it's for you, I will.”
Now, she stared at the water in front of her, knuckles turning white as she gripped the urn.
It had sat in her room for ages, haunting her with Yuki’s last wish, for the fact that even after her friend had left her with clear instructions Takahashi still couldn’t bring herself to do it.
With a trembling hand, she reached up to take off the lid, revealing a mere handful of ashes. Megumi raised an eyebrow, but didn’t interrupt.
Takahashi stared down at what remained of Yuki, before fixing her gaze on the water and finally saying goodbye.
The surface of the pond rippled, glittering with what could be mistaken as fine dust as the last few ashes began to sink.
Takahashi held out the incense sticks, taking in Megumi’s shock and the way his jaw tightened as if he was holding back from saying something.
“Could I borrow that lighter?”
-
Megumi had stood with her in silence for a little while, both of them watching the smoke waft from the tip of the incense stick as it slowly burnt out. He had broken the silence first, his voice even.
“Why did you do that?”
“Because,” Takahashi smiled, “It was time to let go. Holding on to these regrets helps nobody. Besides…”
She thinks of Yuki’s proud smile, how she’d insist Takahashi take care of herself and invite her to unwind whenever possible. Of her constant reminders to ‘drink more water!’ and ‘focus on getting some sleep!’. The way her nose would scrunch up in distaste when parents yelled at her friend.
“She would have wanted me to keep being happy. To move on. Letting go is the best thing I could do for both of us.”
Megumi said nothing, and the silence took over them once more.
-
Takahashi follows Megumi to his own graves next. They cut through the trees, Megumi helping her over the bushes as they move further from the wide paths and into smaller, more private clearings with beaten dirt roads winding through them.
The graves they stop at are brand new, the surrounding greenery not having completely taken over the fresh dirt yet. The names carved into the marble headstones are familiar, flowers already decorating each one and almost completely covering the picture frames at the base.
Nanami Kento. Satoru Gojo. And…Takahashi squints a little, trying to make out the kanji on the one furthest from her, and her heart sinks when she makes out the last name and long brown hair in the frame.
Tsumiki Fushiguro.
Megumi leaves a bouquet for each of them, before squatting in front of Gojo’s grave. A couple cigarette butts line the base, and he brushes them away carefully to put down the censer and light the remaining incense sticks. Takahashi thinks she has a pretty good idea of who left them there.
“Should’ve known she’d visit too,” Megumi huffs, picking up the cigarette remains to toss later. “Even if she says she’ll quit, the same thing happens every time.”
Takahashi watches him work, movements practiced as if he’s done the same thing a thousand times before.
She gets the urge to comfort him, then. Reach out her hand and set it on his shoulder and tell him that everything will be okay. Perhaps its compassion that moves her, or a lingering feeling of responsibility over the boy from his student days. Maybe a sense of companionship, because even if she couldn’t hope to understand the loss that comes with the life of a jujutsu sorcerer she too had felt grief strong enough to tear someone apart.
Regardless, she keeps her hands at her sides and bows her head in respect for the deceased. Megumi is already grown despite his age, seen more than most fully grown men. He doesn’t need the pity of someone he knew for a year, who knew nothing of the trials he had endured.
"Sensei," Megumi says, voice just barely above a whisper as he touches his forehead to the cold headstone, "I didn’t tell you this earlier in the cafe, but the truth is that all of these people...they all died because of a mistake I made. I wasn’t strong enough to help when they needed it the most. I failed when it was most important.”
Takahashi stares down at him, expression gentle. “Megumi, I may not know exactly what happened, but I do know you would never have hurt them on purpose. So whatever it is you think you did wrong, I can assure you that it wasn’t your fault.”
His fists clench, nails drawing blood in crescents from the force of it. “My classmates said the same thing, but even still, I can’t help but think that if I just did more then they wouldn’t be–” Megumi’s voice hitches, and he goes quiet, his sentence left unfinished. The boy leans further into Gojo’s gravestone, as if expecting him to return the embrace just as he always used to do.
“Do you remember what I said earlier?” Takahashi asks. Megumi looks up at her curiously, as if trying to predict her next words.
“You mean about your friend?”
She nods, prompting him to continue as if he was reciting something in class. “You said that you were letting her go. That it was what she would have wanted.” He pauses, seemingly realizing what she was getting at. “But– that’s different. You couldn’t have changed anything. So, what you were saying earlier about letting go...how could I ever do that? How can I forget everyone who laid down their lives for me?"
“It’s not about forgetting. I don’t think I’ll ever forget Yuki for as long as I live.” She lowers herself, sitting down and ignoring her knees’ complaints as she does so. “Like I said earlier, it’s just doing something that would make us both proud.”
The trees begin to rustle as a breeze passes through, carrying the stray leaves on the path along with it. Takahashi tucks her hair behind her hair, smoothing it out as she speaks. “I didn’t know Gojo that well. Or Nanami and your sister for that matter. But you did, so let me ask; do you really think they would be happy with you wallowing in regret like this?”
Megumi’s eyes widen just a fraction, and although it might just be her mind playing tricks on her she swears he gets just a little lighter. “No. No, they wouldn’t.”
-
They say their goodbyes at the entrance, splitting off in opposite directions. Megumi gives her a number to call in case of emergency (school-issued, not his own,) before informing her that someone would contact her soon to resolve any lingering curse related issues.
She isn’t naive enough to believe all of his issues would be resolved in a single conversation. Even if it had helped, the weight on his shoulders was far too great to mend in a single day. Still, she hopes it brought him even a small sense of peace.
Takahashi is a completely ordinary person, who just so happens to know a few extraordinary people. On Monday, she will return to her job after a long absence and greet her coworkers and students with a smile on her face. Megumi will return to fighting curses and saving the lives of people who don’t even know it. It’s unlikely they will ever cross paths again.
Still, she thinks, remembering the boisterous voice of a certain white haired teen compared to the monotone of his blonde classmate and the smell of booze and smokes on another. The dates on the headstones, each far too early and the cigarette remains left behind under each one. Perhaps she can stop by the cemetery again.
This time, with a few more bouquets and incense sticks.