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The prosthesis gleams dully in the cold electric light — Toge moves his hand back and forth, trying to get the hang of it, and frowns; it seems like something was confusing him.
Well, apart from the absence of his left hand.
Megumi unconsciously mirrors his facial expression, watching a strange process: rough metal fingers clench slowly, obeying careful muscle contractions, and tightly, reluctantly unclench back. This type of prostheses recognizes only two commands — “grab” and “let go”. Feeling more helpless than ever, Megumi can only watch and angrily clench his own fists, until his nails dig into his palm’s soft skin.
A piece of metal merged with plastic, which Toge will use as his hand from now on, already became a source of his irrational hatred, although it certainly wasn’t responsible for all that happened. Megumi would have laughed at his own foolishness if he was in any condition to do so.
During the incident in Shibuya, they lost many people, but Toge, hurt by Sukuna’s domain expansion, got off with his left arm cut off above the elbow, a couple of superficial scratches and phantom pains. However, he held on steadfastly, did not complain at all — as if he could — and tried to re-learn to do anything and everything one-handed. Megumi visited him in the hospital as often as circumstances and strict visitation schedules allowed — and, despite all Toge's assurances, still thought that he didn’t do enough.
He notices how Ieiri-san, who was intently watching Toge's movements, makes a final note and gets to her feet.
“Well, so far everything is fine,” she declares evenly, closing the notebook, and Megumi unconsciously relaxes a little, giving some rest to his tense shoulders.
As if he could do anything to help here, really.
“I'll leave you for a minute,” Toge, who had been staring at his new prosthesis the whole time, looks first at him, then at Ieiri-san, and nods.
As soon as the door slams shut, he gets up from the bed, now leaning on both hands; from a dozen articles he read online, Megumi remembered that the sensations from the first contacts of the prosthesis with the scarred tissue of the stump can be hardly be described as pleasant, but Toge, as always, doesn't make a single sound, getting off the bed and adjusting the hospital gown on his shoulders. The blue fabric only empathized the unhealtiness of his complexion, and Megumi barely suppressed the urge to jump up from his seat to assist him in his short trip to the sofa.
They are sorcerers, and Toge, even a slightly haggard Toge who has lost his arm, is still strong — and therefore will not appreciate attempts to help, even if he wouldn’t say a word against it.
Toge easily settles down on the cushions to his left side (he used to almost always stay on the right, and the realization forms a heavy lump in Megumi's throat), wordlessly wrapping his good hand’s fingers around his. Megumi immediately squeezes his hand back — firmly, soaking up the warmth from his clammy fingers and trying to share his own.
“Are you okay?” he clears his throat (his first words in what feels like days, but is more likely to be mere hours) and smiles poorly, nervously, craning his neck to look into purple eyes: Toge, who has habitually placed his bony chin on Megumi’s shoulder, nods again, affirmatively.
“Salmon,” there’s a faint smile in his voice, which isn’t visible behind the mask, but is noticeable by his slightly narrowed eyes; he also sees a follow-up question splashing in them, and, naturally, there’s no need to ask it out loud for Megumi to understand.
“Yeah, me too,” — warm fingers soothingly (why does Toge calm him down in this situation?) stroke the back of his hand, and, finally feeling more relaxed than before, Megumi somehow starts to believe in his own words.
Toge tentatively wraps his left hand around his waist, enclosing him in a lopsided kind of hug — somewhat startled out of his trance, Megumi looks down at him again.
Glistening in the pale electric light, Toge's eyes whisper: I'm sorry I can't hug you as tightly as before.
Megumi moves on impulse, wrapping his hands around him in a split second as he turns around to face him and almost doesn't notice how awkwardly the metal arm slides down his back — and croaks, nuzzling his nose into Toge’s frozen shoulder: “I don't feel the difference.”