Chapter Text
I was never really a fan of gravity. And apparently, gravity wasn’t a fan of me either, because it was going to smash me to the ground. But it was worth it.
You know, I had one simple rule that I followed: if an animal was in trouble, nothing else mattered—including me. It served the creatures well, but left me with more scars than a seasoned veteran and enough bandages to mummify an elephant. Did someone actually mummify an elephant? I didn’t have time to think about it at that moment, but maybe I would when I ended up in the hospital.
It all started on a lovely May afternoon. I was taking a stroll through the park, and everything looked peaceful in the golden hour—except for the stubborn calico cat perched on a tree branch. Why did cats always have to climb to places they were afraid to descend from later?
I did try the peaceful option first, but it only made her meow louder and more miserably. I didn’t have a choice. I had to activate my monkey mode. The problem was that I didn’t actually have one. But I had a lot of determination, and I thought that should be enough.
“Come on, little one,” I coaxed gently. My shoes kept slipping on the rough bark as I climbed higher. Maybe some people considered me a clown, but I wasn’t raised in a circus, and acrobatics weren’t my strong suit. I reached out, my fingers grazing the cat’s trembling scruff. “I’ve got you. Don’t be—”
And that’s when my beef with gravity became serious. My foot slipped, my center of gravity shifted, and suddenly, the beautiful sky was where the grass should have been.
Falling? Not my favorite part, but I didn’t scream. I was never the dramatic type. I was simply falling from the tree. What was the big deal? Instead, I did the only logical thing: I tucked the cat against my chest and curled my body around her like a protective shell. I closed my eyes and braced myself for the impact. I just hoped I wouldn’t become a permanent part of the paving. That would be awkward for everyone.
The impact came, but it wasn’t hard. Did I die so fast I didn’t even notice? I opened my eyes and saw a pair of arms hooked under my knees and around my back. I looked up.
I was met with the most exhausted gaze I had ever seen in my life.
The boy holding me looked about my age, with dark hair sticking out in messy spikes. His eyes were framed by lashes that were way too long for someone who looked like he hadn’t slept since the previous decade. Or maybe even since the Heian era.
“Are you an idiot?” he asked. His voice was deep, monotone, and carried the weight of a thousand sighs. But I didn’t sense any malice in it.
I didn’t move or try to hop down. I just looked at him, then down at the cat who was currently vibrating with terror in my arms. “I saved the cat,” I said, offering him a mischievous smile despite the fact that I was currently being carried bridal-style by a total stranger. “And you saved me. I’d call that a win-win, wouldn’t you?”
He didn’t smile back. If anything, he looked even more annoyed, but at least he didn’t drop me.
“You could have broken your neck,” he chastised.
“But I didn’t,” I countered, finally wiggling my legs so he would put me down. He complied, his movements careful and efficient. So he was the type who said one thing and did another, I noted to myself. “Do you usually spend your afternoons waiting under trees and catching people, or did I just hit the jackpot?”
He let out a huff—a short, sharp sound that was the closest thing to a laugh I suspected I’d get. “I was just passing through.”
“Well, I’m glad you were,” I said brightly. I looked at the cat, still clinging to my shirt with tiny claws, and then at my arm. I didn’t manage to avoid all the branches on my way down, and the wound started to get bloody. Not dangerous bloody, but messy bloody. “Could you… carry her? I don’t want to get blood on her fur. It’ll scare the people at the clinic if they think she’s the one injured,” I said as I carefully held the cat out toward him.
He looked at the tiny, shivering calico, then at my bleeding arm, and let out a long, heavy sigh. He was a man of many sighs. He didn’t complain, though. He reached out and took the cat with surprising gentleness, tucking her securely against his chest, right over his heart.
“I’m [Y/N],” I added, trying to wipe the excess blood with a tissue. “And since you’re already holding the patient, you might as well escort us to the vet. It’s just a few blocks away.”
He looked at me for a long moment, as if debating whether or not walking with me would lead to more trouble. Finally, he gave a small, resigned nod. “Fushiguro Megumi. Just stay away from any trees on the way there.”
“No promises,” I chirped, falling into step beside him.
As we walked, it surprised me that the silence between us wasn’t awkward. It was heavy, yes, but steady. I found myself stealing glances at him. He walked with a strange kind of grace, his eyes constantly scanning our surroundings. He was a mystery wrapped in a very grumpy exterior, and for some reason, I felt a sudden urge to see just how many sighs I could extract from him before our journey was over.
“So, Megumi,” I started, watching him flinch slightly at the use of his first name. “Since you’re so good at catching things, you’d be a natural at animal rescue.” I was always trying to recruit new people. “Ever thought about it? You’ve already got the ‘unimpressed with the world’ look down, which is great for dealing with difficult cats.”
“No,” he said, his gaze fixed straight ahead. “I have enough to deal with.”
“Spoken like a man with a very busy schedule,” I teased. “But you’re surprisingly strong. Do you lift weights, or is carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders just a full-body workout?”
He actually stopped for a second, giving me a look that was half-bewildered and half-impressed. “Do you ever stop talking?”
“Only when I’m eating or sleeping,” I said. “And even then, I’ve been told I mumble about animal facts. Did you know that cats can’t taste sweetness? It’s a tragic existence, really. Almost as tragic as your lack of a sense of humor.”
He didn’t respond, but I noticed the way he adjusted his hold, ensuring the cat was shielded from the wind. He was a ‘tough guy’ who was currently acting as a human heater for a tiny furball. I smiled to myself. That sight was actually even more adorable than the cat herself.
The walk to the shelter was mostly filled with my voice and Megumi’s heavy, rhythmic sighs. I was proud of myself for getting so many. I told him about the three-legged dog I’d helped last month and the pigeon that had lived in my kitchen for a week. He didn’t say much, but he didn’t run away either. He kept pace with me, his shoulders relaxed despite his guarded expression.
When we stepped into the small, brightly lit clinic in the shelter, the chime above the door announced our arrival.
“Oh, back again, [Y/N]?” the vet, Mrs. Sato, asked with a knowing smile. Then her eyes shifted to Megumi, who was still cradling the cat like a precious artifact. “And you brought a friend this time? What a handsome helper.”
“He’s my safety net,” I said, leaning against the counter. “And the cat’s heater. We’re a team.”
“We’re not.” Megumi looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole. “I was just passing by,” he muttered, carefully handing the calico over to the vet.
“He’s very modest,” I whispered to Mrs. Sato, who chuckled and handed me a first-aid kit.
“Clean that arm. You’re getting blood on my counter,” she chided playfully.
I took the kit and sat on the plastic bench in the waiting room. Trying to clean the back of my right arm with my left hand was as graceful as you’d expect, but I was doing my best. The abrupt sting made me hiss quietly through my teeth.
Suddenly, Megumi sat down next to me. He didn’t ask permission; he just took a fresh antiseptic wipe, grabbed my arm with a firm but surprisingly gentle grip, and began to dab at the scrape. He was meticulous, his brow furrowed in deep concentration as if cleaning a scratch was a high-stakes mission.
“You’re surprisingly good at this,” I noted, watching him. “Do you get into a lot of fights, or are you just naturally nurturing?”
“Fights,” he answered shortly, though his touch didn’t get any rougher. He finished cleaning my wounds and applied a long bandage, smoothing the edges down with his thumb.
“Thanks, Megumi.”
He stayed seated for a moment longer than necessary, staring at the bandage as if checking his own handiwork. Finally, he stood up, sliding the first-aid kit back onto the counter.
“Try to stay on the ground for the rest of the day,” he said, his voice flat but not unkind. “I’m not a permanent safety net.”
I stood up to face him, offering a small, knowing tilt of my head. “Maybe not. But you’re a really good one, you should consider it. I’ll see you around, Megumi.”
He gave me a final, unreadable look—a mix of exhaustion and something that I couldn’t decipher—before turning toward the door. “Unlikely,” he muttered, though he didn’t sound particularly convinced.
“Till next time!” I called out as the door swung shut.
I looked down at the neat, straight bandage on my arm. I still wasn’t a fan of gravity. But I didn't expect it to start pulling me this hard.