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It starts with insomnia.
Megumi's always been a light sleeper, so he doesn't think much of it at first. He always sleeps worse in summer anyway, thanks to the humidity and his human furnace of a husband; when he wakes up on a night in late June, sweaty and breathless, he just shoves Yuuji a little further away and goes back to sleep.
But then it happens again. And again. And again, over and over, until suddenly it's been weeks since Megumi last felt fully-rested and Yuuji's started anxiously peering at his face every morning. His eye bags are so dark they look like bruises, twin hollows in his face, and Yuuji starts not-so-gently insisting that he go to the doctor.
"It's the heat," Megumi says, idly stirring a cup of cold barley tea for himself. He and Yuuji are sitting at their kitchen table, late afternoon light streaming in through the window. "I always wake up easily."
"It's never been this bad, though," Yuuji says. His brow is creased with worry. He looks like that a lot these days. "Did you eat something bad?"
Megumi raises a brow. "You're asking if I ate something bad every day for two weeks straight?"
"Megumi," Yuuji says. There's a pleading tone to his voice, a sense of desperation, and Megumi bites the inside of his cheek.
The truth is, he knows it's not just the heat. There's something strange about it. Off. He can't describe it, but there's some kind of tension under his skin. A prickling at his nape, the same kind of feeling he gets when his body senses that something is wrong. He hasn't just been waking up a lot—he's been waking up in a cold sweat, his chest heaving like he's just run a marathon, his breath sharp in his throat. He keeps getting those half-dreams where he feels like he's falling and he jolts himself awake. It's definitely weird, and maybe he should go to the doctor, but...
He doesn't want there to be something wrong with him. If there's something wrong with him, then that means there's a possibility that it could get worse. And if it gets worse...
He's only sixty-six. What's Yuuji going to do if he leaves this early? When they first figured out that Yuuji wasn't aging, Megumi had promised himself that, for Yuuji's sake, he would live as long as he possibly could. Eighty, at least. A hundred if he was lucky. But...
Sixty-six is so much earlier than he thought.
He glances up at Yuuji for a moment. As always, he looks the same: his face frozen in his mid-twenties, his body still in its prime. Anyone on the street would mistake Yuuji for a healthy young man; to Megumi, though, his eyes give him away. Yuuji might not have the wrinkles or the crow's feet or the sunspots, but his eyes look every bit as old as he truly is.
Megumi can tell: this is really worrying him. Anything to do with Megumi's health worries him. So Megumi internally sighs, setting aside his own feelings, and reaches out to take Yuuji's hand from across the table.
"I'll go to the doctor if it gets worse," he says quietly. Yuuji relaxes, just the tiniest bit.
"Promise?" he asks.
"Promise," Megumi says, and prays with all his heart that he won't have to make good on it.
It gets worse.
"And that's it?" the doctor asks. She's new—'new' meaning that she's been at Jujutsu Tech for at least a few years, but Megumi had gotten so used to Shoko that it still feels jarring to see someone else in her place—and rather anxious-looking, with glasses that slip down her nose every few minutes. Megumi can't remember her name. "Just the insomnia and the night sweats?"
Megumi purses his lips, glancing at the door to make sure Yuuji isn't hovering outside. He'd told him to go take a hike, because he knew that hearing his symptoms would only make Yuuji worry even more, and he's glad he made that decision.
"Sometimes chest pain, too," he says, and the doctor's eyes widen a little. "But that only started recently."
"Chest pain?"
"Mhm. Here." Megumi presses two fingers to the bottom of his sternum. "It's sharp. Happens sometimes right after I wake up."
She does a few exams on him. Listens to his heart and his lungs, draws some of his blood for who-knows-what. She examines him with her cursed energy as well, poking and prodding with Reverse Cursed Technique to see if there's any hidden wounds that need healing.
She finds nothing.
No injuries, no illness, no curses that went flying under the radar. The only thing she notes is that his cursed energy seems to be fluctuating, which is something any sorcerer could've told him. Megumi leaves her office with no new information and an inexplicable growing sense that the ground is falling away beneath his feet. That sense of wrongness hasn't gone away—it's only gotten worse, an incessant tingling all along his skin.
He finds Yuuji waiting for him at the building entrance. Yuuji's tapping his foot anxiously against the floor, and when he hears Megumi's footsteps, he jerks his head up, eyes wide.
"What did the doctor—"
"Nothing," Megumi says, reaching out to take Yuuji's hand. His skin is warm and calloused; Megumi intertwines their fingers and tugs Yuuji along. "There's nothing wrong with me at all."
"You look like shit," Maki says.
"Thanks," Megumi deadpans, even as she scans him with clear genuine concern. He focuses his attention on the baby in her arms instead, cooing at him. Tsurugi's not even one yet, so he still has those cute chubby infant cheeks, and he scrunches up his face adorably when Megumi pokes him.
"No, seriously," Maki says, peering at him with a frown. "You really look like shit. Are you sick or something?"
"Who do you think I am?" Megumi mutters, glaring at her. "I wouldn't go near a baby if I was sick."
"Then why do you—"
"Haven't been sleeping well." Tsurugi waves a fat little hand in the air, and Megumi holds out a finger for him to grab. The kid's grip is surprisingly strong. "Seriously, Maki. That's it."
Maki is still eyeing him suspiciously, but she lets it go. The two of them fuss quietly over Tsurugi for a moment; on the other side of the room, Yuuji's chatting with Mifuyu. She's not really showing yet, but her hands rest protectively on her stomach, making it clear nevertheless. On her left is Iori, as stiff and stone-faced as ever, and on her right is Yuuta, who's beaming harder than anyone else in the room.
"Do they have a name yet?" Megumi asks. Maki follows his gaze and snorts.
"Yep," she says. "Yuuki for a boy, Yuuka for a girl."
Megumi raises his brows. "Same—?"
"Same kanji."
Megumi can't help but huff out a halfhearted laugh. Of course. Leave it to Iori to name both of his children after his parents. Megumi feels a little bad for him, especially considering the way he turned out; he'd been such a starry-eyed kid, convinced that his parents were the coolest people in the world and that he would follow in their footsteps, just to never live up to his own expectations. He's been growing more and more distant with each passing year, falling deeper into his obsession with strength. It's a little concerning, but it's not Megumi's place to speak on it, so he keeps his mouth shut. He's sure Maki already knows, anyway.
He watches Yuuji wave at Mifuyu's belly like the baby inside will see it. A knot forms in his throat—he knows that Yuuji's always wanted children. Megumi's a bit more on the fence about it, but in another life, they might have worked something out.
In this life, though, the thought of children went out the window the second it became clear that Yuuji wasn't aging. This is the closest they can get.
"Let's hope for an easy pregnancy," Megumi murmurs, feeling an ache take hold in his chest the longer he watches Yuuji. Maki snorts.
"Take care of yourself first, and then we'll talk," she says. "Seriously, get some sleep."
Megumi rolls his eyes and doesn't answer. Absently, he notes that the ache in his chest is growing worse; he tugs his finger free from Tsurugi so he can rub his hand against his sternum, and he pays it no more mind.
In retrospect, Megumi should've figured it out earlier. The signs were there, after all. His cursed energy control is sloppy, embarrassingly so. He's been finding it harder and harder to pull things out of his shadow. But the most obvious sign—that one that really hammers in the fact that something is wrong—comes in August.
He's lucky that it's not a real mission. Well—it is, technically, but Megumi doesn't consider it dangerous enough to really be a mission. He's just doing maintenance, patching up the borders and taking care of any cursed spirits that escape Tokyo. He's really getting too old for this, but his shikigami can cover far more ground than any individual sorcerer, so he might as well help out while he still can.
He doesn't sense the curse until it's already upon him.
That in itself is enough to raise a few alarms. It's a good thing that Megumi already had Kon out, because if not for Kon tackling the curse, Megumi would've been mauled. He whips his head around, gaping, as Kon and the curse go crashing to the ground in a blur of claws and teeth.
How did he not sense it? How did he not sense it? It's not like it's a particularly advanced curse. It's not smart enough to hide its presence, so it's oozing cursed energy. Megumi should've been able to realise it was there long before it managed to get close enough to actually endanger him. As Kon wrestles with it, Megumi stares at the curse's ugly, snarling mouth and feels his heart sink.
It's possible that his faltering cursed energy control is messing with his ability to sense cursed energy, too. That—that's not good. That's the opposite of good. The curse is big, too, almost thrice the size of Kon; it should've been easy to sense. Megumi swallows and shakes himself out of it, then puts his hands together to summon Koso. For a curse as big as this, he'd prefer to let a tiger fight it instead of a dog, no matter how powerful Kon is.
Except—nothing happens.
Megumi blinks. He checks his hands and finds them in the correct position. Of course they are—Megumi tamed Koso almost fifty years ago. It's muscle memory by now, so there shouldn't be any issues with his hand sign. There's no light source to nullify his technique, either; the shadow he's casting is perfect. He furrows his brow, gathers his cursed energy, and barks, "Koso!"
Still nothing. Megumi doesn't feel even the faintest tug on his cursed energy. A bead of sweat rolls down the nape of his neck, and a heavy uneasiness settles in his chest. In front of him, Kon manages to pin the curse down and rip out its throat.
It trots over to him proudly as the curse dissolves, but Megumi can't focus on anything but his own hands. He checks, double-checks, triple-checks—but he's still making the right sign, and he's still casting a clear shadow. He puts all his cursed energy behind the summons, but Koso still doesn't appear.
"Koso?" he calls, his voice echoing in the ruins of Tokyo. His voice wavers a little, giving away the growing panic that's taking hold of him. For a second, he feels very young again—it's the same swooping sense of dread that he felt when he was fifteen and he turned around to see his white dog's head embedded in a concrete wall. "Koso?"
No matter how many times he calls, he never gets an answer.
The Zen'in clan's old records are useless. The Gojo and Kamo clan records are too. Megumi flips through every old book and digitized record he can find on the Ten Shadows technique, but there's no accounts of any prior users losing a shikigami the way he did. He's tried, over and over, to summon Koso, but it really is just gone. It hasn't even been passed on to the other shikigami like it would be if it was killed—it's just disappeared completely, like Megumi never had it at all.
It's terrifying.
The thought of being able to just suddenly lose his shikigami, with no explanation and no way to get them back, is enough to make Megumi's blood run cold. And it's not just his shikigami, either—it's his ability to control his technique as a whole. His cursed energy fluctuates wildly. He finds himself either outputting too much or too little, when just months before he was able to control it without even thinking. Cursed energy control is one of the most basic skills a sorcerer can hone, and Megumi mastered it decades ago, so why is he suddenly losing it all now?
Yuuji panics about it even more than Megumi does. He doesn't say it, but Megumi knows that his biggest fear is that this is all just a symptom of something else. He insists on making Megumi get checked out, both by Jujutsu Tech's doctor and by a normal civilian clinic to make sure that he doesn't have some kind of terminal illness that's sapping his strength. He gets every single one of their friends to observe Megumi's cursed energy, but none of them can find anything wrong with it aside from Megumi's suddenly-worsening control. At night, he clutches Megumi like he's afraid he'll slip away. He starts spending almost all of his time with Megumi, retreating from the outside world in favour of being at Megumi's side at all times.
Then, in September, Megumi loses Kangyu too.
Just like Koso, it happens without warning. He calls for it and it doesn't come. His shadow doesn't stir when he makes the hand sign. Every other shikigami appears when Megumi summons them, but Kangyu is just...gone. Megumi stares at his own hands and gets the creeping sense that, months ago, when he started waking up in a cold sweat, it was his body's way of trying to warn him.
A month later, Madoka disappears too, and Megumi starts to connect the dots.
At first, he doesn't dare to share his thoughts. His friends are all already frightened enough. They're scrambling for answers, Yuuji most of all, but none of them have been able to come up with an explanation. He's not cursed, and he's not sick, and he's not injured. There is no precedent for what's happening to him, no known explanation in the jujutsu world; Yuuji spends weeks reading every record he can find and comes up empty.
But Megumi has a theory.
His shikigami are disappearing. They're not dying—they're disappearing. The fact that their abilities haven't bled into Megumi's other shikigami is proof that they haven't been destroyed. So, logically, they must exist somewhere else—and if they're not in Megumi's shadow, then it stands to reason that they must be in somebody else's.
In other words, someone else is about to be born with the Ten Shadows technique.
He goes back to the Zen'in records, just to check, and...well. It's looking more and more likely that he might be correct, because there have never been two users of the Ten Shadows at the same time. For an inherited technique, that's as good as confirmation that it can only have one wielder. There have also never been two Ten Shadows users born so close to each other—there's usually a good few generations in between, so that explains why no one's ever experienced what Megumi's going through now. It makes sense. It makes too much sense.
At first, Megumi keeps his mouth shut. He observes. He withdraws from any missions, because his cursed energy is getting too unpredictable; he's starting to lose his ability to use other people's shadows, too, which is a huge blow to his arsenal. He simply experiments by himself, monitoring the slow loss of his technique and his shikigami, until he comes to the conclusion that he's probably right. After that, it takes him another week to work up the courage to admit that he has to tell people.
Yuuji, predictably, doesn't take it well.
Megumi tells him as they sit at the kitchen table, because he's heard that it's easier to hear bad news when you're in a familiar environment. Yuuji just stares at him for a moment, his face frozen. His eyes are wide, and Megumi can't tell if he looks hopeful or terrified.
Then, finally, Yuuji moves. He swallows, his throat bobbing, then takes an audible breath.
"You're serious?' he says softly.
"I'm serious," Megumi says back.
"So—you're not sick?" Yuuji leans over the table, a desperate look on his face. He grabs Megumi's hand and squeezes. "Or poisoned?"
"No."
"You're not dying?"
Megumi presses his lips together and says nothing.
Yuuji understands, of course. He understands immediately. Megumi can tell from the way his entire body seems to crumple, that brief flash of relief curling up and dying. His fingers dig into Megumi's skin, a silent plea for Megumi to stay right where he is.
The fact of the matter is that Megumi simply doesn't know if he's dying. He can't promise Yuuji that he's not, nor can he bring himself to tell Yuuji that he is. He turns his hand so his palm is facing the ceiling, intertwining his fingers with Yuuji's.
"Megumi," Yuuji says, his voice breaking. If they weren't already sitting, Megumi thinks Yuuji might've gotten on his knees by now to beg. "Are you—do you think you're going to...?"
Megumi swallows. "I don't know," he says honestly, and Yuuji bows over the table and weeps.
He loses Datto in November. It's not the worst loss in the world, but Yuuji had loved playing with those rabbits. Megumi wishes there was some way of predicting the loss before it happened, because if he knew, he would've summoned them to let Yuuji cuddle them one last time.
"It's a girl," Yuuji tells him one night. They're bundled under their blankets together, because the chilly autumn air is getting to Megumi more than it usually does. Yuuji's arms are wrapped around him, his hand stroking absent-minded patterns over Megumi's back. "They're naming her Yuuka."
Megumi hums. Neither he or Yuuji say the obvious part out loud. Yuuji, Megumi knows, is too afraid to speak it, in case saying it aloud makes it come true. Megumi, however, just doesn't feel the need to say what they all suspect.
So that's his successor, then. Okkotsu Yuuka.
It's still just a theory, of course. Megumi won't know for sure until Yuuka is born, but he's almost certain that he's right. Megumi's health conditions, his slipping grasp on his cursed energy, the loss of his shikigami...all of it started around the same time as Mifuyu's pregnancy, and it's only gotten worse since then.
If his rapidly declining health really is because a new Ten Shadows user is about to be born, then it has to be Yuuka. There are only two branches of the Zen'in clan left in the entire world: Megumi and Maki. Megumi has no children, and Maki only has Iori. There are no other Zen'ins left who could possibly have children with the Ten Shadows technique. It's either Yuuka, or Megumi is slowly losing himself to something else entirely.
He hopes it's Yuuka. He'd feel better about it that way. At least, if this is killing him, then his death would mean something—he would be dying to sustain the life of someone else.
The only thing is...
Yuuji's hand is a warm brand on his back, a reminder of all that Megumi might be leaving behind. Megumi swallows, holds Yuuji tighter, and tries to will himself to sleep.
By December, Megumi's figured out that he's dying.
For a while there, he'd held out hope that losing his technique wouldn't mean losing his life. He'd be okay with living as a non-sorcerer for the rest of his life. He could train Yuuka. He could read books in his spare time. He could live a quiet life with Yuuji, and die when they were both expecting it.
At this point, though, it's undeniable.
His body is slowly breaking down. He gets winded so easily now, always stopping to wheeze for breath when he walks too far or too fast. His muscles are slowly losing definition. He's losing weight, and he's growing tired; it's funny that this whole thing started with insomnia, because these days he finds himself sleeping more and more. And he remembers, now, that when Kenjaku made the Culling Game, failure to participate hadn't been punished with death. It had been punished with removal of the cursed technique. Kenjaku hadn't needed to mention death because it was already a given.
So. He's dying.
Mifuyu is due in March, so as long as Yuuka doesn't come early, Megumi still has a few months left. At this point, it's all but confirmed that she's going to be born with his technique. When Megumi finally told Maki about it, her face had gone completely still.
He knows she feels responsible. Yuuta, too, but Maki's the one with Zen'in blood, so she's the one who passed this down. It's not her fault, though. It's not anyone's fault—how could it be? Megumi can't bring himself to be angry when this was outside anyone's control.
Yuuji, though. Yuuji can.
Well, maybe angry isn't the right word, but he's taking it a lot harder than Megumi is. He's—sensitive, to this kind of thing. To the idea of loss. Ever since they found out he wouldn't age, Yuuji's been living in dread of the day Megumi leaves him, and to have it happen so early and with such little warning...
Over the last few decades, Megumi's watched Yuuji change. It's slow and subtle, and Yuuji is still Yuuji, but the knowledge that he won't be able to fulfill his grandfather's last wish has taken its toll on him. Megumi doubts there's anyone more ill-suited to immortality than Yuuji—he needs people. He needs to care and to be cared for. He loves hard, and so he takes loss even harder; it's cruel, really. If there was anything Megumi could do to swap their positions, he would do it in a heartbeat. If there was a curse he could take on, a potion he could drink, a finger he could eat—Megumi would do it without thinking.
But they're here now, and Megumi has three months left at best, and Yuuji comes home one night with a look on his face that Megumi's never seen before. He practically storms over to the couch where Megumi is sitting, throwing himself down beside him and immediately dropping his head on Megumi's shoulder. He does it with so much force that Megumi actually grunts.
"What the hell?" he mutters, craning his neck to get a good look at Yuuji's face. Yuuji has his eyes squeezed shut, his brow scrunched together like he's a little kid trying to shield his eyes from a horror movie. "Yuuji?"
A muscle tenses in Yuuji's jaw. Megumi brushes his hair back from his forehead, and Yuuji's eyelids flicker like he's trying to hold back tears. Something's wrong, Megumi thinks, his heart slowly sinking. He closes the book he was reading and sets it aside, then shifts so he can try and accommodate Yuuji better.
"Yuuji—"
"Iori's happy about it."
...Oh. That explains the tension in Yuuji's shoulders, then.
"When you say happy about it," Megumi starts, "what do you—"
"I mean he's happy you're fucking dying, Megumi, what else could I—" Yuuji cuts himself, exhaling through his nose and slumping further into Megumi's side. He turns his head so that his nose digs into the side of Megumi's neck.
"I'm sorry," he says, his voice muffled by Megumi's shoulder. Megumi can feel his voice vibrating through his bones. "Obviously he's not happy you're dying. But he's happy that Yuuka's going to get the Ten Shadows, so..."
He trails off, but Megumi hears the implicit end of his sentence: so what's the difference? Yuuka being born with the Ten Shadows is synonymous with Megumi's death. No wonder Yuuji had come through the door with a face like that.
"It's only natural," Megumi murmurs, in an attempt to make things seem a little better. What a reversal—Yuuji's the one spiralling, and Megumi's the one trying to get him to see the bright side. "It's not a crime for him to be excited about it. It's a—"
"No, that's not—he did it on purpose, Megumi," Yuuji says, and the rest of Megumi's words falter on the tip of his tongue. "Okkotsu-senpai told me. Iori wanted a kid with a strong technique. That's why they're having Yuuka so soon, because Tsurugi wasn't enough."
...Alright, so it's hard to find the bright side of something like that. In all honesty, Megumi's not surprised. He'd known that Iori's obsession would be his downfall one day, and he'd known there was something a little off when Mifuyu announced her second pregnancy so quickly. Beside him, Yuuji is shaking—with rage or with grief, Megumi doesn't know.
"I don't get it," Yuuji says, his voice ragged. "I just—why does it matter? Why does he—why did he have to—"
He breaks off into a sound that's halfway to a sob, burying his face even further in Megumi's shoulder. Megumi can feel the telltale damp warmth of his tears, can feel the way Yuuji's shoulders tremble. Oh, his Yuuji; always so emotional, always wearing his heart on his sleeve. Megumi can tell that this is tearing him apart. He's angry, deep down. He blames Iori, and he hates himself for it.
Megumi understands it, of course. In a roundabout way, Iori is to blame. If it wasn't for his obsession with strength, he and Mifuyu wouldn't have had a second child so quickly. Even if Yuuka was always destined to have the Ten Shadows, Megumi could've had at least another year. Or, if Iori had been satisfied with his first child and never had Yuuka at all, Megumi could've lived out the rest of his natural life. To Yuuji, those years would've been worth more than gold, and knowing that Iori did this for something as petty as strength is enough to make anyone see red.
None of that matters now, though. Megumi will be dead soon, and there's nothing to be done about it. He turns his head, presses his lips to Yuuji's hair, and prays that, once he's gone, Yuuji will find it in himself to forgive.
Bansho disappears a few days after his birthday. It leaves Megumi with just three of his shikigami: Kon, Nue, and Gama. It's fitting, somehow; they were the first three that he tamed, and they'll be the last three that he loses.
Megumi lets them out more often now. He has no reason to conserve his cursed energy, since it's not like he'll be using it. It's a little strange to just have them out without making them do anything, but he discovers that Nue likes to perch close to the window so that it can warm itself in the sun. Gama takes a liking to the laundry sink and refuses to move when Megumi tells it to, so Yuuji has carry it out like a huge frog-shaped stone. Kon, as always, follows Megumi around like a loyal dog.
It's nice, in a way. If Megumi hadn't been dying, he might've never seen his shikigami like this.
"Yuuji, come help me with the camera."
"The camera?" Yuuji steps into the living room, frowning. His hair is wet from a shower, his towel slung over his shoulders. "What're you doing?"
"I'm making a video for Yuuka," Megumi says, and out of the corner of his eye, he sees Yuuji go still. "A bunch of videos, actually. The Zen'in records are basically useless for actual training, so it'll be better for her to learn from me."
"Oh," Yuuji says, the word stiff and stilted. Megumi turns to look at him fully and finds him rigid, his face pale and his eyes far-away.
He gets like this whenever Megumi brings up his death. It's January now; they only have two months left. That's around eight weeks. It's not a lot of time, but Yuuji is still half in denial. He doesn't like talking about it. He doesn't like thinking about it. He doesn't like having to acknowledge it at all, even though it's impossible to ignore. Megumi barely goes outside now; he gets too tired too quickly, and he's more sensitive to temperature, so it's just easier for him to rest at home. The signs of his impending death are there, but Yuuji refuses to look at them.
Megumi's worried about him. The closer they get to Megumi's death, the more withdrawn Yuuji gets from everyone except him. He knew that Yuuji was already growing tired of jujutsu society and how heavily they rely on him, as an essentially-immortal sorcerer who rivals Gojo and Sukuna in strength, but these days it seems like Yuuji's truly stopped caring about everything outside Megumi. It's obsessive, almost, and Megumi doesn't want to think about what will happen to Yuuji when he dies.
Yuuji will still have Nobara. He'll still have almost everyone, in fact. But Megumi's not stupid—he knows that, with each passing year, Yuuji's relationship to everyone else grows more and more strained. It's inevitable, when it comes to someone like Yuuji; he can't bear to see the rest of them growing old while he stays young. It had strained their relationship, too, until Megumi told Yuuji that if he continued to mourn him while he was still alive, he'd punch him so hard that even Wasuke would feel it. And now...
"Yuuji," Megumi prompts gently. Yuuji blinks, shaking himself out of whatever trance he'd gone into. "The camera?"
"Oh—yeah." Yuuji clears his throat, moving to where Megumi's propped up the camera. The lens, cursed so that it can record cursed techniques, flashes an unnatural purple-blue. "Uh. Where do you want it?"
"It's fine as long as you can see my body."
Yuuji peers at the screen and adjusts the position a little. As he fiddles with it, Megumi looks down at the notes he'd prepared for himself. Lesson plans, in a way.
It's been surprisingly easy to make his peace with death. Megumi suspects it's because he knows Yuuka will be able to live because of it. He's already made all of his post-death plans. He's written his will—everything's getting left to Yuuji, obviously, aside from a few sentimental things that he'll give to Nobara. He's decided that he'll die here, in the comfort of his own home. The only thing left is this.
If Megumi's going to die before he can ever meet his successor, then he might as well try to make things easier for her than they were for him. He wasn't lying when he said the clan records were basically useless—they have information on each shikigami and their abilities, but aside from that, they're no help at all. There's a whole bunch of things that Megumi had been forced to figure out himself: shadows as a form of storage and transportation, the ability to apply his shikigami's abilities to himself, using other people's shadows instead of just his own...
The point is, he might as well leave a record for Yuuka so she doesn't have to fumble her way through it like he did. Everything's a little easier if you have a teacher to show you first, and Megumi's not going to be around to demonstrate in person, so a video will have to do.
The only issue is that, by now, Megumi's only down to Nue and Kon. He lost Gama about a week ago, so he won't be able to show Yuuka much when it comes to the actual shikigami. Thankfully, the shikigami are the simplest part of the technique, so he's hoping she'll be fine. Megumi scans the lessons he'd written down, making note of the parts that he might have to explain a bit more thoroughly.
The camera makes a shutter sound, cutting through the silence of the living room. Megumi glances up and finds Yuuji standing behind it, looking at him with an expression that makes it seem like he's about five seconds away from bursting into tears. They stare at each other for a moment, and then Yuuji clears his throat.
"Sorry," he says, his voice rough. "I just...wanted to take a photo."
His hands are trembling where they rest on either side of the camera. Megumi's heart twists, and he sets his notes aside and opens his arms.
"Come—" he says, and he doesn't get to finish saying here before Yuuji's already practically climbing on top of him, wrapping his arms around Megumi and squeezing. Gently, of course; if Yuuji squeezes too hard, in the state Megumi's in now, it could do some actual damage. Megumi huffs out a fond laugh, running his hands through the back of Yuuji's hair and drawing him in closer. It feels like Yuuji is trying to get Megumi to assimilate into him, to fuse them into a single being so that they never have to be apart.
"You idiot," Megumi sighs, his breath ruffling Yuuji's hair. "You don't have to sneak photos of me, you know. You can just take them."
Yuuji nods, his chin digging into Megumi's shoulder, and neither of them say why, exactly, Yuuji wants to take photos in the first place. Over Yuuji's shoulder, Megumi catches a glimpse of a blinking red dot on the camera, indicating that it's recording. Yuuji must have started the video without realising. That's fine—Megumi gets the feeling that this is a moment Yuuji won't mind having a copy of.
Megumi closes his eyes and pulls Yuuji in impossibly closer, trying his best to memorise every tiny detail of this. The soft mop of Yuuji's hair between his fingers, the sun-clean laundry smell of his shirt, the warmth and the pressure of his arms. This, he thinks, is what he'll miss.
He'll record Yuuka's videos later. For now, Yuuji takes priority.
He loses Nue in the first days of February. He stands on the back porch, Kon by his side, and does the handsign so many times his fingers start to ache. His joints are not, after all, what they used to be; the cold gets to him now, makes it way into his bones and stays.
After half an hour of scanning the sky for a shikigami that never appears, he accepts that it won't work.
Kon leans further into his side, supporting him as his legs shake with the strain of standing. Its body is a familiar weight, and one that Megumi will miss sorely. He reaches down to rest a hand on its head.
"Just you and me, then," he murmurs. "You're gonna stay with me 'till the end, huh?"
Kon turns its head and licks his hand. Megumi takes that as a yes.
By March, he's in a wheelchair.
He can still walk if he needs to, but his legs tremble. His muscles ache. It's better for everyone—him, Kon, Yuuji—if he stays seated most of the time.
Mifuyu's due date is the twenty-fifth. Megumi prays that it's accurate. He wants to make it to Yuuji's birthday, at the very least; even if it's impossible to see any change, he wants to watch Yuuji get older by another year.
He spends most of his time on the porch now. He prefers to breathe fresh air, and there's enough space for Kon to sit down by his side and rest its massive snout in his lap. These days, he spends all of his cursed energy on keeping it manifested. Unlike Megumi, Kon hasn't suffered any decline in its health, but it still chooses to sit by him instead of wandering around the house. Yuuji sticks to him just as much, only ever leaving the house for groceries. It's...nice, Megumi supposes, to sit at home with his husband and his dog, but it also gets boring pretty quickly.
So: he asks Yuuji to take him to the park.
"The park?" Yuuji repeats, adjusting Megumi's blanket. Even though it's spring now, Megumi still gets cold easily. "Why?"
"I just want to."
Yuuji searches his face for a moment, then swallows. "Okay," he says, and leans in to kiss Megumi's forehead. "We'll go when there's good weather."
So, a few days after Megumi's request, they go to the park. There's one not too far away from their house. Yuuji pushes Megumi all the way there, careful to avoid any cracks in the pavement. Kon, unseen by the general public, follows along behind them. Megumi folds his hands in his lap and tilts his head to catch the sun, and he tries not to think about how, to anyone watching, it probably looks like Yuuji's taking care of his elderly father.
When they get to the park, Megumi directs Yuuji to take him to an open patch of grass. Yuuji quirks a brow, but complies. He parks the wheelchair in a sunny spot without Megumi having to ask, and Kon trots up beside them, wagging its tail idly. It comes around to nose at Megumi's folded hands, and Megumi looks up at Yuuji.
"Could you get me a stick?"
Yuuji tilts his head. "A stick?"
"Mhm. I want to play fetch."
"Play...?" Yuuji's brows rise even higher, his eyes darting between Megumi and Kon. A wry smile pulls at the corner of his mouth. "What happened to they're shikigami, Yuuji, not pets?"
Megumi shrugs. "Kon will have a lot of time to be a shikigami after this," he says, and Yuuji's smile falters a little. "For now, he can be a pet."
For a moment, Yuuji doesn't speak. Then: "Okay," he says, his voice slightly wobbly. "I'll go get you a stick."
Megumi watches him walk further into the park, the familiar shape of his back disappearing among the trees, and he feels his throat go tight.
He thinks he's going to die soon.
Well, no. He knows he's going to die soon. Mifuyu's due date is barely two weeks away. But this is different. Megumi can't explain why, but he's getting the sense that his body is slowing to a halt. Not today or tomorrow, but...within the next week, maybe. That seems right.
As for his technique, it's lost almost all function. There's nothing left of it for him to lose; he can't do anything with it aside from summoning Kon. It's like he's right back where he started, just him and the only shikigami that he's never had to fight.
He looks down at Kon now. It's laying on his lap, staring up at him with big puppy eyes, and Megumi sighs and reaches out to pet it. It's stuck with him from birth to death, and now it has to pass on. Yuuka, after all, will be given the dogs from the moment she's born; they can no longer stay with Megumi.
"You'll be the first to meet her," he murmurs, running his hands through Kon's thick fur. "So be nice to her, okay? Take care of her."
Kon lets out a low whimper, pushing its head further into his palm. Such a big baby. Megumi squishes its face between his hands.
"You'll be fine," he tells it. "You've done this a bunch of times."
Kon's nose twitches. It stares up at Megumi, almost pleading, before the sound of grass crunching underfoot announces Yuuji's return. Megumi gives Kon one last scratch between the ears before turning to look at Yuuji.
"Here," Yuuji says, holding out a suitably-sized stick. Megumi takes it and finds it surprisingly light. "Unless you want me to...?"
"No, I can throw it," Megumi says, hefting the stick between his hands. He reels his arm back, watching as Kon immediately snaps to attention, and hurls the stick with all his might.
...It doesn't go very far. Kon bounds after it and reaches it in about two seconds before circling back. Megumi grimaces.
"Maybe you should throw the next one," he mutters, and Yuuji lets out a laugh. It soothes something in Megumi's soul. It's been a while since he last heard Yuuji laugh. If he could bottle the sound, he would. Yuuji bends down to receive Kon, who practically tackles him, and they spend a few minutes roughhousing on the grass before Yuuji finally yanks the stick out from Kon's mouth and throws it so far away it practically becomes a twinkle in the distance. Kon takes off like a rocket after it.
Megumi leans back in his chair. "Don't you think that was overkill?"
"Nah, Kon can handle it."
Sure enough, Kon comes sprinting back just a few minutes later. Yuuji laughs again, which makes Megumi feel like his heart is floating, and throws it even harder. As Kon runs after it, Yuuji sits down on the grass next to Megumi, resting his head against Megumi's thigh.
They repeat the cycle in comfortable silence. Kon comes back, Yuuji throws the stick further, and they wait for Kon to return. It's nice. Peaceful.
It takes five rounds of fetch for Megumi to realise that Yuuji's crying.
He only figures it out because, when Kon comes back, it slows its step as it reaches Yuuji. It lets out a whine, dropping the stick at Yuuji's feet and leaning in to lick at his face. Yuuji pushes it away, letting out a choked breath, which is enough for Megumi to lean forwards in alarm.
"Yuuji—?"
Yuuji flinches and turns away from him, but the damage is already done. Megumi can see the tear tracks running down his cheeks, can see the redness of his eyes. Kon whimpers, nudging at Yuuji's face; Yuuji fumbles around for the stick, then picks it up and flings it far away.
"Go, Kon," Yuuji says, his voice breaking. "Go. Fetch."
Kon looks helplessly at Megumi. Megumi nods, shooing it away, and waits for it to run off before he reaches down to grab Yuuji's arm and yank him towards him.
"Yuuji, what—"
"I'm sorry," Yuuji rasps out, reaching up to swipe his palms across his face. "I know you wanted this to be a nice day, I—I'm sorry, fuck—"
"Sorry for what?" Megumi demands. He tugs at Yuuji again, making Yuuji fall back against his thigh. "Yuuji, please look at me."
For a long moment, Yuuji doesn't do anything. He doesn't move, doesn't speak; Megumi slowly releases his grip on his arm. Yuuji reaches up with one hand, resting it on the part of Megumi's thigh that comes just before his knee.
Then: "I don't think I can do it," Yuuji says. His voice sounds like someone crushed it inside their fist and left it small and shuddering. "I—Megumi, please, I can't do it. It's too early. I—I can't—"
"Yuuji," Megumi murmurs. Yuuji shakes his head, his hand clutching at Megumi's leg; Megumi can feel his fingers digging into his thigh. His tears are wetting Megumi's blanket.
"I can't—"
"Yuuji," Megumi says, cutting him off before he can spiral further. "Look at me."
Yuuji hiccups, but doesn't say anything else. His breaths are ragged; Megumi can hear each and every one of them tearing their way out through his throat. Then, ever so slowly, he shifts so that his head is turned in Megumi's direction. Gently, afraid to press too hard in case it breaks him, Megumi takes Yuuji's jaw in hand and tilts his head up.
Yuuji's face is red and wet with tears, but god, he's still beautiful. Megumi's husband, his lovely Yuuji, still young and fresh-faced thanks to whatever crazy cocktail of cursed objects is in his blood now. Megumi just studies him for a moment, committing every beloved line of his face to memory in case he ends up in an afterlife somewhere and needs a way to pass the time, and for a moment an aching thought cuts through him:
He wishes he could've gotten to see Yuuji grow old.
If he has one regret, it's that he's leaving Yuuji alone, but if he has two regrets then this is his second. He wishes he could've seen it—the slow development of wrinkles, the first grey hair, the evidence of a life well-lived. He wishes they could've looked in the mirror together to see two old men looking back.
But even if Megumi lived to a hundred, he probably still wouldn't see Yuuji looking a day over thirty. The two of them are cursed in opposite directions. Megumi strokes his thumb down the curve of Yuuji's cheek, feeling nothing but smooth, wrinkle-free skin under his fingertip, and he wishes they could've gotten more time. They had fifty years, but...
But it was only fifty years.
Megumi's made his peace with death, but that doesn't mean he wants to die. Here, in this moment, he wants to throw his arms around Yuuji and sob and throw a tantrum against the universe. It's not fair. I don't want to die. I want to live longer, and I want to live with him.
But that's the thing, isn't it? Life is never fair. Hasn't that been Megumi's philosophy from the start?
There's nothing Megumi can say to make their current situation better, so he doesn't bother trying. I don't think I can do it, Yuuji had said, but that doesn't change anything. It's not a matter of whether or not Yuuji can do it—he'll have to do it, no matter what. Megumi leans down, thunking his forehead against Yuuji's, and looks him right in the eyes.
"I'll see you again," he says, willing it into existence as the words leave his mouth. It's not something that he can truly promise, but...if reincarnation does exist, then he'll do everything in his power to make sure that his next life crosses paths with Yuuji again. And if Yuuji eventually dies, hundreds or thousands of years down the line, then maybe the two of them will meet again in different lives entirely and they'll get to start over. "So in the meantime, I want you to take care of yourself."
Yuuji's face crumples. "Megumi—"
"I'm serious." Megumi pinches his cheek and pulls a little. He needs to make sure Yuuji hears this. "I want you to sleep. I want you to drink water. I want you to eat well, and to exercise, and to do fun things in your spare time. Don't ruin yourself just because I'm gone."
"If you're gone, I'll already be ruined," Yuuji mumbles. Megumi has to shut his eyes for a moment, a jumble of emotions swelling up in his throat and cutting off his voice.
It's not fair.
"Promise me you'll take care of yourself," he says, because it's the only thing he can think to say. He opens his eyes again to see Yuuji looking at him like Megumi's just asked him to bring the moon down to earth.
"Yuuji," he says. Yuuji's shoulders slump.
"I promise," Yuuji says, sounding absolutely miserable about it. He swallows, and Megumi can feel the movement of his throat. "I love you."
Megumi exhales. At the very least, he knows Yuuji will do his best to keep that promise, so Megumi can worry a little less about him after this. He tilts Yuuji's chin up with a finger and leans in to meet him in a soft, chaste kiss.
"I love you too," he says against Yuuji's mouth. He can feel Yuuji's lips trembling with the effort of holding back another sob, so he kisses him again. And again. And again, until the trembling stops.
In the distance, he can hear Kon coming back with the stick.
"Hi, Yuuka-chan. I know you must be wondering who I am. My name is Fushiguro Megumi, and I was a friend of your grandparents'. I have the Ten Shadows technique, just like you, so I'm going to help show you how to use it.
First, we're going to try and summon your dogs. They'll be your first shikigami, and they'll stay with you your whole life. Now hold up your hands like this—see how they make a shadow puppet on the wall?—and repeat after me..."