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Coming back into his body isn’t what he hopelessly made it out to be all those months ago. It’s sudden and alarming and feels like taking steps again as an infant for the very first time. Everything around him is sharp and burning, like his very bones were tingling with familiarity yet screaming with pain.
He never thought Death would be this bitter.
A light isn’t the first thing Megumi sees, nor is it a warm embrace from his mother. No, the first thing he sees when he manages to wearily crack his eyes open is a mop of faded pink hair haloed in the evening's dying sun.
Strange, the thought comes out of nowhere, cutting through the fog in his brain. Death must be cruel to be dangling everything he's ever wanted right in his face, especially considering how their final moments together came to be.
Itadori looks like he’s seen better days -- new cuts and bruises lining the shape of his face and neck, blood smeared from where it looks like he absentmindedly rubbed at his wounds. His eyebrows are scrunched and his lips move like he’s saying something but Megumi can’t hear it, too far away in his body still to make out the words.
The look of concern deepens on the other boy's face, sending a jolt of shock through Megumi’s already aching bones. That’s a new look, his brain supplies with no control. It’s true though, Itadori’s hardened concentration is something Megumi has only seen a handful of times, typically washed-out with his steadfast demeanor, but in this moment, it seems…different.
Megumi’s eyes squint against the sun's last rays as Itadori turns his head to speak to someone behind him. The sound barely reaches his ears but he thinks he hears something along the lines of,
“-akes a while to readjust.”
He’s damn right about that one, his body still feels like it's on fire and his brain is functioning just enough to question if he's really dead or not. Which, on that point, there’s more people in this place? He tries to shake his head of that thought, face twisting in pain as he turns away from the sun.
“-ey, hey, Fushiguro?” Itadori says from his side, he feels the other boy's hands flit about around his body, but Megumi can’t see the expression on his face now that he’s turned away. It still feels like Death has decided to give him cruel and unusual punishment in the form of his worried classmate- friend? So he says the only thing that comes to mind, or, tries to at least.
“Nnnno,” Megumi grits out. His throat is a mess of blood and misuse, so the sound barely comes out as a croak.
Itadori must have still heard it anyway because he stills and replies, “Wh- No?”
The adorable confusion in his voice makes him sound extraordinarily real; Death really must have no boundaries.
“Nnnot r-real,” he clarifies with himself and fake-Itadori.
He hears what sounds like a half-laugh half-cough of disbelief before the other responds. “This is real, Fushiguro. You’re safe.”
Safe.
The word clangs around in his chest, aching to be true. He turns his head back towards Itadori, cracking his eyes open to get another look at him. Worry lines his features now and his hands hover unsurely over his chest, waiting for some kind of approval to examine, to feel.
Some part of him wants this so badly to be real, for him to be alive, safe. But another part of him, one that still feels like a caged animal, kicks and bleats at the unsurety. He tries and fails to curl in on himself, his limbs sluggishly moving out of sync with his mind.
“Fushiguro?” This time, Itadori’s voice sounds gentler, smaller.
He shakes his head, eyes slamming shut as he tries to steady his breathing. “Stop,” he musters up. “Please stop, t-this isn’t r-real.” His speech is better than it was a minute ago, but he pays no mind as hot tears curve around his cheekbones and burn a path to the ground.
A choking sound chases his tears as his chest caves open, leaving nothing but emptiness and grief as everything comes crashing into him. Shibuya, the culling games, his sister, being pushed out of control, Gojo, destruction, and death and so much death and-
He failed.
He failed Tsumiki.
He failed Gojo.
He failed Itadori.
His chest heaves with each sob and he finally manages to turn on to his side if only to retch up an already empty stomach as each memory floods back into him.
Maybe Death isn’t cruel, maybe Death is justice. Maybe this is the punishment he deserves for what he’s done, for what he failed to do.
He thinks Itadori is talking to him, but Megumi’s heaves drown out the sounds around him save for the voices in his own head, repeating his insufficiency over and over again.
“-gumi you’re okay, you’re safe. This is real. ” Itadori pleads from beside him, voice cracking.
His heart strains as he spits, letting his head hang. “Please,” he whispers.
Tentative hands wrap around his shoulders as he's lifted and moved away from the mess he made on the ground. His gaze doesn’t dare lift because if this is real like Itadori keeps saying, that means he's meant to face the disaster around him and the suffering he’s caused.
The thought sends another wave of uneasiness through his body, causing him to sway. His shoulder bumps into something sturdy, preventing him from falling back to the ground. The something sturdy moves up and down, and it takes him a moment to realize that it must be Itadori he’s leaning on. If he had a semblance of self-respect left, he might have pushed him away with a scoff, but he welcomes the stability and repetitive movement of his breaths.
“You’re safe, it’s going to be okay, Megumi. I got you.” Itadori keeps repeating those words over and over again as he holds him, letting Megumi calm his breathing. What feels like hours later, his eyes dry and he finally looks up and out at the debris surrounding them. His breath catches at the sickening amount of blood everywhere and his mind starts to slip again-
“Hey, focus on me, Gumi,” Itadori says as he gently guides his eyes back to his face, mere inches from his own. The nickname is familiar in a way that it sparks a lingering playful anger in his stomach and by the look in his eyes, that was the exact reaction Itadori was hoping it’d cause.
“S’not my name,” he frowns and reassesses the scars and gashes on the other boy’s face.
“Yeah I know,” Itadori says with a small smile and a shrug. “I figured you’d remind me anyway. Though really, it is easier rolling off the tongue.” He makes a quick thinking face which causes Megumi to muster up a snort. This makes the other’s face light up, but in doing so, Megumi gets full access to the bruises painting his skin hues of green and blue.
“I’m sorry,” Megumi whispers. This takes Itadori aback, a quick change from the familiar lightheartedness a second ago.
“What?” The confusion is clear, from the way his eyebrows scrunch together and the slight tilt of his head. Distantly, Megumi remembers comparing him to a puppy once before when he made that same face.
He takes a deep breath to settle himself, body finally falling into place. “I’m sorry, Itadori. For everything. I’m sorry for dragging you into this that day I met you, for forcing you to help me with Tsumiki, for hurting you throughout it all.” He can’t bear to meet Itadori’s eyes and opts to stare at a fixed point beside his head. “But mostly I’m sorry for not being strong enough to push him out.”
Tears start to form again at his confession but he holds his composure.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you from him.”
It’s a whisper but Megumi hears it because of their proximity and he whips his head to finally meet Itadori’s eyes. His own tears are mirrored in the other’s eyes as Itadori shakes his head.
“You have nothing to apologize for. Nothing, Megumi,” he says with so much conviction that Megumi almost believes it. He begins shaking his own head but Itadori cups his face with both of his hands and holds him steady.
“ I mean it. I understand what you’re going through more than anyone else, and I know that if our positions were swapped, you would be telling me the same things.” He thinks for a moment before adding, “And maybe even kicking my ass for thinking otherwise.” A laugh rumbles its way up Itadori’s chest and Megumi feels each movement.
His tears threaten to fall over as he stares at this boy. He examines every inch of his face, familiar lines and curves confirming what he realized minutes ago, he’s alive. They made it out -- they’re both safe.
His eyes flutter close for a moment. “What do we do now?”
Itadori hums which prompts him to open his eyes and meet brown one’s.
“We take it day by day,” he ends up with. “And we take each step together.”
A noise escapes from Megumi’s throat and Itadori continues on. “And if that means we leave the jujutsu world, we leave. We owe it to ourselves to heal.”
There’s no trace of a lie in both Itadori’s eyes and words, lifting a weight from Megumi’s chest. And he’s right. They’ve both given themselves and more to this world and been spat back out with shattered pieces.
He nods in Itadori’s hands and the other boy nods in return, confirming their decision.
“We’re going to be okay,” Itadori reassures him, resting his forehead against his own. Megumi stares at his eyes and sees that statement reflected back at him.
They will be okay.
They will be okay.
He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding as the last of the light echoes from the horizon, leaving the stars their only companion.
They stay out there, breathing in each other’s solace until even the stars tire of their presence and the crisp of the dawn air calls out to them, urging them to finally rise from the wreckage. And when they do, they do it with acceptance and a hope that one day, this will be a similar echo to the light that faded on them the previous day.
Megumi looks over at the boy next to him and he knows. He knows they’re going to survive this, he knows they’ll share in each other’s pain and memories for years to come, but he also knows he wouldn’t want to do it with anyone else.
He’s ready for what’s next, so long as Itadori is right there beside him.