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He sees nothing but silhouettes, hears nothing but a gentle voice that’s always, always interrupted by a maniacal laugh. Megumi feels the rain gently smatter against the skin on his face, drip down onto the ground on which he still stands. It always takes every ounce of strength within him to not fall to his knees, to not surrender to that damned king of curses. It doesn’t happen every night, but it happens often enough for Megumi to sometimes fear falling asleep.
Megumi will never forgive himself for what happened that night. He remembers how they’d been warned to turn back if the situation got too tough for them to handle—and they never did. He remembers seeing Itadori—no, Sukuna bare his long nails, and without a shred of hesitation pierce Itadori’s chest to pull out his heart. Holding ‘him’ hostage.
‘I can live without this thing, but the brat can’t.’
It’s been almost two weeks since then, but Megumi still remembers the voice so vividly, can still see the scene unfold before his eyes as if it happened just hours ago. Sometimes in his dreams, he relives the moment Yuuji swapped with Sukuna one last time, and he hears Yuuji tell him to live a long life before Yuuji dies.
And then it happens again.
Again.
And again.
Each and every time, Megumi is as powerless as he was that night when Yuuji Itadori died because the king of curses ripped his heart out of his chest. Yuuji is dead, and he isn’t coming back. What sucks about that reality is that they even don’t know that this for sure killed Sukuna Ryoumen—after all, Sukuna could live without the heart while Yuuji couldn’t. The king of curses would live on while Yuuji stays dead.
“Why bother saving this brat? He’s not worth that much.”
Not to you, but to me he is.
Whenever Megumi has this dream, or nightmare, he tries his damn hardest to respond to Sukuna, but he’s never able to. Just like back then. Megumi opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. Nothing. Nothing. Noth—
“Fushiguro! Hey, Fushiguro! Jesus, if there’d been more students around here, you’d scare the entire fucking building.”
Megumi wakes with a jolt and a gasp, and his heart beats so hard he hears the thrumming loudly in his ears. When he comes to, he’s covered in a cold sweat, and Nobara is sitting on top of him with her stern but concerned gaze fixated on him. He lets his eyes adjust to the brightness of his room, and breathes slowly a few times to try and regulate his heartbeat back to normal.
He’s so tired. So, so tired of this happening over and over again. Will it ever stop? Megumi doubts it. He’s seen people die before, but… Yuuji’s death was different. Yuuji wasn’t supposed to die then, not for a while longer. Gojou had made sure that Yuuji wasn’t to be executed until he wasn’t useful anymore, and he was still useful when he died that night, because they’d only just gotten started on hunting down Sukuna’s fingers. They’d only just gotten started, and Yuuji had died way too soon.
“Nightmares again, huh?”
Megumi looks back at Nobara, who for some reason still sits on top of him. Megumi, however, doesn’t make a move to try and get her to climb off.
“Why are you here?”
Nobara rolls her eyes, scoffing. “I thought I made that obvious when I barged into your room, no? You were screaming in your sleep again, Fushiguro.”
Again. Nobara has probably, sadly, gotten used to it at this point. How does she handle it so well while Megumi is like this as often as he is? While he’s on the verge of completely losing it, Nobara seems… fine. No, maybe not entirely—Megumi thinks of how Nobara had told him that she definitely wasn’t upset about Yuuji’s death, but her quivering lower lip had betrayed her, not to mention how she’d cursed under her breath sitting right next to Megumi.
“Sorry,” Megumi mutters. “What time is it?”
“Just past eight. At least I got some sleep before you decided on throwing a tantrum in here.”
Megumi huffs. “I didn’t throw a tantrum, Kugisaki, I just—”
“Hey.”
He blinks a few times in confusion, only slightly miffed by the fact that Nobara had cut him off. “Yeah.”
Nobara doesn’t immediately respond. Her gaze shifts elsewhere, to the wall, perhaps, and she still doesn’t move from where she sits on top of Megumi without a shred of shame or maybe even a thought to it.
“When he told you to ‘live a long life’… what’d he look like?”
“What?”
“Don’t make me repeat myself.”
Megumi rubs the last traces of sleep out of his eyes. When he moves to sit up in bed, Nobara lets him, but she still doesn’t get off. “He was smiling. You know… like he always was.”
Nobara huffs, and her lower lip quivers again, like it had the day after Yuuji died, when she had lied about the impact Yuuji’s death had on her. Megumi doesn’t really care that Nobara lied to him—they weren’t that close then.
“He really did smile a lot, huh.”
“Yeah.”
“And always put everyone else’s needs above his own.”
Megumi smiles a little. Tears that aren’t his own drip onto the blanket, and Nobara draws a trembling breath. He watches her clench her hands into fists, resting on Megumi’s stomach. Under normal circumstances, Megumi would be nervous to have Nobara’s hands around that region since she’s prone to violence even in situations where one can absolutely do without it. That isn’t to say that she’s inherently violent—Nobara is just strong. Very strong.
If Megumi could name one thing he admires Nobara for, it’s her strength, be it physical or emotional. Both, really. But she also has moments like these where she lets that façade fall, most likely not in front of just anyone, and people like Megumi can catch a glimpse of her humanity hidden underneath that tough exterior.
“He did,” Megumi says. His heart feels heavier all of a sudden, and it’s making it difficult to breathe normally. “That… selfish idiot.”
Two weeks. Two weeks is all it took for them to feel this much, feel too much, maybe. How was it only two weeks, when it felt so, so much longer?
Nobara smiles and makes an attempt at laughing, but it doesn’t quite happen the way she probably intends it to. Instead, she just exhales a trembling, empty husk of a laugh, her head drooping as she instead stares at her lap.
“I know this sounds dumb, but… I’m mad that I wasn’t there with you. When… you know. When it happened.”
“Hm.”
“I was uselessly passed out in the back of a fucking car, Fushiguro. But you were there.”
Megumi swallows hard. “I was there.”
Nobara takes a deep breath, exhaling it in a frustrated sigh. “I’m not as strong as you or him, but… I’m strong. You know? Maybe… maybe if I’d been there, then maybe we could’ve saved him.”
Oh, Nobara has no idea how many times Megumi has thought of countless ways for them to have saved Yuuji from dying that night. Maybe it’s desperation, Megumi doesn’t know. But something possessed him to uselessly think of something that can’t be done now, anyway, perhaps as a way to make himself feel better. There’s always going to be that ‘if only’ that’ll haunt him for the rest of his life, and maybe this is just his way of trying to come to terms with that.
If only they’d listened to Ijichi and retreated once it turned out they’d have to get into a fight.
If only Megumi and Yuuji hadn’t gotten into that fight that took their attention away from Nobara when she got swallowed up by the ground.
If only Megumi had been able to stop Yuuji from swallowing Sukuna’s finger that fateful day they met, preventing Sukuna from being resurrected using Yuuji’s body as his vessel.
If only—
“There’s no use in thinking that way now,” Megumi tells both himself and Nobara. “All we can do is honour his last wish and make sure we avenge him.”
“Yeah… yeah, you’re probably right,” Nobara concedes weakly.
Her clenched fists are trembling, and it’s all it takes for Megumi to lean forward and pull Nobara into his arms. He doesn’t know what he’s doing, really, but this feels like the right thing to do. In a way, Megumi thinks he needs this, as selfish as that sounds. Maybe Nobara doesn’t, but Megumi thinks she does at least as much as he needs it.
Nobara doesn’t pull away, doesn’t attempt to finally climb off Megumi where she’s been sitting with her legs on both sides of him on top of his bed. It doesn’t take long before Nobara returns the embrace, and the second she buries her face into Megumi’s shirt, Nobara lets herself cry.
Being a jujutsu sorcerer isn’t fun, it isn’t exciting, nor is it a profession one would brag about. Most people in the jujutsu world wish for a world without curses they have to exorcise, a world where they don’t have to rely on their techniques in order to save lives, be it their own or the lives of other people. Megumi envies those who can’t see curses, those who live in blissful ignorance of what truly goes on, what jujutsu sorcerers see and experience on a daily basis.
“Hey… Fushiguro,” Nobara says.
Megumi lifts his chin a little from where it’s been resting on top of Nobara’s head. “Yeah.”
“I lied before. You… you weren’t screaming. In your sleep, I mean.”
“Oh.”
Nobara sniffles. “Thanks.”
Megumi gently places his chin back atop of Nobara’s head. “Sure. And… likewise.”
Neither of them would ever dream of taking orders from someone their own age, but both Nobara and Megumi will honour Yuuji’s wish of living a long life to the best of their abilities. And even though Yuuji never explicitly stated this, both of his now former classmates will do their damn best to avenge Yuuji’s death, to make sure Yuuji didn’t die in vain.
Yuuji wanted his death to have a meaning, and Megumi knows that he and Nobara will make sure that becomes reality. If not today, if not tomorrow—then someday.