Work Text:
"And I'm sorry I left, but it was for the best
Though it never felt right
My little Versailles"
Megumi's slow return to consciousness was met with the familiar buzz of Infinity being pressed against his forehead. He heard a familiar voice curse under his breath, before Infinity was gone and was replaced by the cold touch of the back of some’s hand.
He grunted, as he instinctively went to smack the hand away, as his eyelids flickered open and his vision struggled to adjust to the sudden dim light of his bedroom.
“Aw, thank God he’s not dead!” A familiar voice breathed, sounding slightly relieved, before calling loudly, “Miki-chan, you can come in now, he's awake!”
Megumi blinked in the low light as almost immediately spotted a familiar pair of bright blue eyes peering down at him, from where Gojo had perched himself on the edge of his bed.
Gojo met his gaze and grinned at him,“Welcome to the world of the living, Gumi! It’s good to have you back.”
Megumi’s nose wrinkled in disgust, “You’re talking too loud.” he rasped, a bit confused as to why his voice sounded as horse as it did and why breathing through his nose had suddenly become an impossible task.
“Aw Gumi,” Gojo chuckled, ruffling his hair affectionately, “Contain your enthusiasm, you’re embarrassing yourself.”
Distantly the sounds of pounding feet on wood echoed down the hallway and a sudden bright light flooded the hallway as the door swung open. Megumi let out a hiss and retreated farther under the blankets.
“Megumi oh my gosh-” Tsumiki cried, seemingly unconcerned for the pain his eyes were currently suffering as she sprinted to the opposite side of the bed, “Are you feeling alright? Do you need anything?”
“No…” He wheezed, his voice feeling as if it had gone through some sort of shredder before being doused in freshly squeezed lemon juice. “What time is it?”
“Uh, like seven pm bud.” Gojo said, pulling back his sleeve to inspect his watch, “You’ve been asleep for like ten hours.”
Megumi blinked.
That was right. He vaguely remembered waking up earlier and feeling more like a corpse than a living person. He hadn’t really thought much of it and had simply continued through the motions of getting himself ready for school. That was until Tsumiki had taken one look at him and declared they were staying home for the day.
“I went back to sleep?” he asked, snuffling as he wiped at his nose with the back of his sleeve.
“Damn he really is out of it,” Gojo leaned forward and began waving four of his fingers in Megumi’s face, “Alright kid, how many fingers am I holding up?”
“Gojo-san,” Tsumiki said gently, with all of the patience of a saint, “That’s for concussions, not general drowsiness."
“He didn’t answer the question though!” Gojo exclaimed, waving his fingers around with somehow more gusto.
Megumi scowled, and attempted to bite at his finger half-heartedly as it passed within range. Gojo let out an exaggerated shriek as he threw his hand back, and Megumi took the moment of peace to hurry back under his covers.
Through the blanket, he felt Tsumiki tap his head expectantly, “You can’t go back to sleep yet,” she stressed, “You have to take some medicine.”
Megumi frowned, folding the blanket slightly over his head just enough so he could squint up at her, “We have medicine?” He couldn’t remember the last time he or Tsumiki had gone to the Pharmacy.
She nodded, “Gojo-san picked it up when he came over.”
“Oh.” He said.
“Here!” Gojo said expectantly, nudging a small spoon of a suspiciously orange liquid being shoved into his face, “Open up!”
Megumi scowled, “I can feed myself,” he snapped, snatching the spoon from the man, and doing precisely that. Immediately, he choked at the bile taste, and barely managed to swallow it properly without it permanently traumatizing his taste buds.
“What the hell was that?” he demanded, as he practically tore the glass of water Gojo offered him, “That was disgusting!”
“Language Gumi,” He chided, as if he hadn’t gotten into the habit of calling drivers that pissed him off the most foulest thing he could thing of and ignoring all of Ichici gentle sighs at his outbursts, especially since he was always the one driving and not actually Gojo himself.
“That should help with your cough and everything,” he pressed the back of his hand once more against his head and hummed, “Your fever is gone too.”
“I had a fever?” Megumi repeated.
He nodded, “Yeah got a pretty nasty one in your sleep, it eventually went down but only after poor Miki practically raided the place to find every blanket in the house.”
Tsumiki nodded solemnly, “I thought you were dying or something! I only knew for sure you weren’t because you kept shivering uncontrollably.”
Megumi frowned down at the piles of neatly folded blankets he’s sure had eventually all been pried off of him in his sleep, and he supposes that was probably part of the reason his skin felt as sweaty as it did.
“Thanks,” He muttered, stifling a yawn.
Tsumiki instantly brightened, “Sure!” she said, “Anything else you need.”
He paused for a moment, still blinking slightly and rubbing his eyes. “Dunno,” he muttered, “Water would be nice.”
Gojo hopped off the bed and gave him a little mock salute, “On it.” he declared, and bounded back down the hallway.
Tsumiki pulled herself onto the bed so she was curled up next to him shoulder to shoulder, and let out a small sigh as she flopped her face directly onto his pillow.
He let out a groan as he frantically attempted to push her away, to little success due to his overwhelming drowsiness, “You’re going to get sick too!” he complained, when she stubbornly refused to move.
“It’s fine,” she sighed, shifting so she could properly face him, “I’ll just wash my hands and face later. Besides, you get sick way more often than I do.”
Megumi rolled his eyes, “That’s gonna change real fast when you start breathing in all of my sick germs!”
“Quit worrying, you're the one dying, not me.” she complained as she flicked him in the center of his forehead. It barely even hurt but he still wrinkled his nose due to the principle of the matter.
Megumi was pretty sure all he had to do was sneeze once in her presence, and his sister would be convinced he had some kind of incurable cancer but he was much too tired to comment.
“I’m not dying.” he grumbled, “Just a cold or something.”
“Or something!” she grumbled, but sat up and stretched, “Well anyway, I better start getting my stuff together. I figured you can take the bedroom and let you stink up the place while I’ll stay on the couch in the living room.”
Megumi frowned, automatically sitting up, “I can stay in the living room,” he insisted.
“No you won’t.” she argued, in the deliberate way she always did when she had already made a decision and was simply informing Megumi of it without waiting for his input.
"At least I might be able to sleep through the night, I’ve gotten pretty sick of your snoring.”
She let out an offended gasp, “Wha- I don’t snore!” she complained with a pout. The expression resembled Gojo’s dramatic sulk so expertly Megumi couldn’t help but snort.
“Uh… you definitely do.”
“No I don’t!”
He raised an eyebrow, “How would you know you’re not snoring if you're the one asleep?” he asked.
Her mouth opened and shut a few times, as she desperately tried to come up with some sort of defense for herself.
At that exact moment Gojo stepped back inside the room, holding a glass of water in a wine glass (where he got one of those Megumi did not know, neither he nor Tsumiki drank) with the most outrageous looking straw Megumi had ever seen jutting out of it, “What are the two of you yapping about?” he asked cheerfully, hanging the glass towards him,
Tsumiki whirled around, giving her best pleading face, “Gojo-san I don’t snore do I?” she demanded, like it was the most important thing in the world, “Megumi kept saying I do, but I don’t believe him.”
Gojo blinked down at her for a moment, before letting his sunglasses slip down the bridge of the nose so the two of them could make proper eyecontact, “I’m real sorry Miki-” he began, like he was informing her of dire news.
Tsumiki let out a defeated sigh as she slumped forward, and Megumi couldn’t help but chuckle as he watched the slow acceptance of this fact wash over her.
“Shut up, Megs.” she complained, pinching his cheek as he let out a squawk and attempted to bat her away. “I bet one day when you’re old and rotting away in some nursing home, you’ll find that you actually missed me and my snores.”
“I doubt it,” he shot back, before he reached over and poked at her ribs. The sudden attack caused her to shriek and release his face.
Gojo chuckled and leaned against the railing, “Yeah Gumi, I would watch it if I were you.” he warned, “Plus you do, like, way more embarrassing things then Miki does.”
Megumi raised an eyebrow as he took a sip from the offensive looking straw, “Like what?”
“Uh…” he paused thoughtfully for a moment, then grinned like he had just discovered some fatal move to completely shatter Megumi’s self-esteem, “You ask for books more than cool action figures, which makes you a total nerd. So yeah I’d say that’s pretty embarrassing.”
Megumi rolled his eyes, unimpressed, "At least I can read.”
“Oi!”
Before he knew it his cup had already empty itself, and Tsumiki practically tore it from his grasp and sprinted back down the hall to fill it back up.
As Megumi flopped back against his pillows and his covers back up to his chin. He closed his eyes before he remembered the fact that Gojo was in fact still in the room.
He blinked over at the Six-Eye-User in question and found him happily typing away on his flipphone still perched on the edge of his bed.
“Don’t you have to go save the world or something?” Megumi asked, “You’ll get in trouble with that Yaga guy again if you waste any more time here then you’re supposed to.”
Gojo tilted his head to the side slightly, his smile curling at the edges as if he had said something particularly ridiculous, “Waste time?” he echoed, sounding a bit mystified, “I don’t think it’s wasting time for me to take a break to make sure my poor kid doesn’t freeze to death from his fever. What kind of parent do you take me for?”
The usual comment of, ‘your not my dad asshole’, sat on his tongue but he couldn’t find the energy to fight him about it.
He blamed his fever.
Instead he frowned up at the man, “But aren’t people going to need your help though? You can’t spend all of your time here.”
Gojo huffed, “Everyone can stand to take a break from my wonderful presence for a bit. Right now the person who needs my help is you, right?” he paused thoughtfully for a moment, “Mostly because I'm pretty sure Miki would have my head if I just ditched you in your hour of weakness, and I really don’t want to see that girl angry. I don’t think I would be able to recover from the horror she would unleash on me.”
Megumi couldn’t help but smile, safe under the shelter of his blankets, “You wouldn’t,” he agreed, but seriously, “I can handle things myself. Don’t feel responsible or some crap just because I’m sick.”
Gojo huffed indignantly, “Silly Gumi,” he said, his voice oddly soft, “I’m the strongest remember? Nobody can make me do anything I don’t feel like doing.”
Megumi struggled to swallow through the sudden lump in his throat.His fingers buried themselves deeper into the covers like he could bury them into the fabric if he tried hard enough.
Sometimes Megumi truly did despise Satoru Gojo. The man was obnoxious, spoke way too loudly for no reason and always seemed to walk into a room like everyone was already applauding for him. But if he was entirely honest with himself, Megumi found himself missing the irritating man more often than not.
Because Gojo was safe. Gojo was constant. Gojo always came back. So of course Megumi wanted him to stay.
And that was the horrifying part. Most of the things that Megumi wanted in life were ripped away from him anyway.
If he would have been more sound of mind, if he hadn’t been sick and pretty sure drugged on whatever mysterious substance Gojo had given him earlier but somehow he found himself muttering, “You promise?”
“Sure do!” He chirped happily, as if this was already an accepted truth between the two of them. As if this conversation hadn’t just taken the weight of the world off Megumi’s shoulders.
He hesitated, before carefully slipping his hand from underneath the blanket, and offering his pinky towards the man, “Swear it then,” he demanded, “Make it official.”
He heard Gojo laugh, but felt the familiar feeling of a finger being wrapped around his own all the same.
Megumi paused for a moment, allowing the moment to wash over him and fully sink in. The Six Eyes Wielder, Satoru Gojo, had just confirmed that every visit to the Fushiguro house he had taken had been of his own volition. The sorcerer who was the closest thing to a God the jiujitsu society had, chose to spend his time taking care of some orphaned kid and his sister living in the middle of nowhere.
“Do you want this documented as well as well or is that good enough for you?” Gojo teased, snapping him out of his thoughts.
Megumi groaned, quickly retracting his finger to swat blindly in Gojo’s direction, “I’m trying to sleep, you’re distracting me.”
He chuckled, “Yeah yeah, alright. I’ll let you sleep.” he stood and the bed jostled slightly with his absence, “I’ll be in the other room with Miki if you need me!”
“Do whatever you want,” he grumbled from underneath the covers, trying his absolute hardest to sound like he was indifferent to the whole situation, “I don’t care.”
…
Megumi had to reluctantly admit that the Gojo Clan had definitely outdone themselves with the burial sight they had given Satoru.
There’s nothing grand or loud about it. Not to properly represent the person who the grave allegedly belongs to. The pristine slab of stone somehow managed to strip him entirely of his humanity and personality that he had when he was alive; it made Megumi sad for reasons he couldn’t quite verbalize.
To the surprise of apparently everyone but Megumi, the Gojo Clan had actually sent a representative to inform Megumi directly that he was not allowed to attend under any circumstances. Okkotsu had practically begged his forgiveness on behalf of his clan and had promised to use his authority to change the Elders minds, despite Megumi’s insistence not to. The Clan was already having issues without him taking over as head of the clan, he didn’t need them to be having more reasons to distrust Okkotsu. Especially not on his account.
Nobara had been shocked when he had inevitably told her, and Maki she had looked like she had wanted to annihilate a second Sorcerer Clan, but Megumi honestly found he didn’t care as much as apparently everyone thought he would.
Despite ultimately knowing very little about Gojo clan in general, it was clear Satoru had been essential to their entire status and public image as one of major sorcerer clans, so it hadn’t surprised him that the person who had taken that away from them was someone the Gojo Clan would be wary of for the most part.
So Megumi had seen no reason to argue against it. He didn’t want to give them another thing to resent him for. He hadn't really been all that eager to watch the face of the man who practically raised him be locked inside a casket and buried under six feet of dirt knowing he was the reason he was there anyway.
Letting out a sigh, Megumi plopped himself in the dirt in front of the grave and propped up the flowers he had against the stone. He convinced himself that he had only gotten them because they happened to be on sale on the walk over, but he hadn’t complained or put up a fuss when Shoko had taken the route that just so happened to walk by the small flower shop a few blocks away.
He figured a bouquet of Camellia’s was somewhat appropriate. He vaguely remembers a bush of small rose-like flowers that had used to sit outside on the porch of his and Tsumiki’s old house. He remembers how it had died so quickly since Tsumiki’s mom left, since she had been the only one to really care about it. The only reason Megumi can even remember it to this day is because one of the first things Gojo had done when he had practically invited himself into their lives was dig out the abandoned dead plants and replace them with a fresh bush.
‘Why did you do that?’ Megumi asked him once had finished, blinking down at where he had flopped face first onto their couch as Tsumiki had frantically offered them every beverage they had in the house (half a gallon of milk and filtered water from the refrigerator) as a thanks.
‘Just thought it would liven up the place is all,’ he had replied, his tongue sticking out as began frantically trying to claw out the dirt from behind his nails.
Behind him he heard Shoko let out a long sigh, jarring him out of his thoughts. He turned around just as she came to stand next to him. Her hair had been pulled into a bun on the back of her head and she had wrapped herself up in one of her oversized jackets that seemed to practically swallow her whole.
“Feels unreal, honestly.” She admitted aloud, practically tossing the small bag of mochi she had also bought on the walk over in the general direction of the grave, watching it bounce off the stone and roll next to Megumi’s flowers, “I was the one who verified the death and passed the corpse over to the Clan once Okkotsu was finished with it, but it still so strange to wrap my head around.”
“Didn’t you go to the service?” he asked, frowning at her slightly, “Thought it was supposed to be an open casket or something.”
Shoko shrugged, rummaging through her pockets for a moment, “Eh, not really. Too many traditions and shit I didn’t feel like involving myself in.” She pulled out her cigarette pack, picking one out and letting it settle in the corner of her mouth while she fished in her other pocket for a lighter, “Besides, been to too many of them already. He’d get it.”
“He’d be pissed you were smoking at his gravesite.”
“Yeah well,” Shoko muttered absentmindedly, as she began fiddling with her light as she attempted to light the flame of the end of her cigarette, “He should send a sign or something then, if he cares so goddamn much.”
At that exact moment a particularly strong wind whipped through the field and just as her cigarette caught flame the wind sucked it out.
Megumi couldn’t help but bark out a laugh at Shoko’s disgruntled expressions as she cursed Saturo under her breath, despite reluctantly stuffing the cigarettes back into her pocket.
“I know there was a ton of drama and whatever regarding the funeral, but they still let you go to the Will reading at least, didn’t they?” She asked.
“They did,” he agreed.
He still couldn’t wrap his brain around the fact that Satoru Gojo of all people had written a will.
“Get anything cool out of it?” she asked, like they were talking about exchanging prizes from a carnival instead of the belongings of a dead man.
He let out a half-hearted chuckle that sounded more like a breathy exhale than anything else, “Guess I did forget to tell you that,” he murmured. When Shoko frowned at him expectantly he let out a sigh, “Apparently he left me with half of the entire Gojo family inheritance.”
This time it was Shoko’s turn to let out a surprised laugh, as she hunched forward and hugged her ribs as she struggled to breathe, “You’re kidding.” she cackled, though she didn’t seem terribly surprised.
Megumi shrugged, “I tried to pass it off to Okkotsu, but he insisted that if it was Gojo’s wish then he wasn’t going to do anything about it. He seemed to be the one in the Clan to think so, since almost all of the Elders were genuinely about to throw hands for a second.” He couldn't help but chuckle at the vicious sight, “I’ve never seen so many old guys be that pissed before.”
“I’m surprised they let you leave alive,” she agreed, “What about the rest of it?"
“All of it belongs to Okkotsu-senapi now. With the instructions to use it for the Gojo clan in emergency situations. But since he’ll be the next clan head but while in his care it’s ultimately his to decide what dictates an emergency situation or not.” He shrugged, “The bastard always hated the Gojo family but he seemed to care enough about him to at least not to leave them in complete financial ruin.”
Shoko snorted, “I don’t think it was just a huge middle finger to the Gojo family, Megs.” she said, a strange, almost exasperated look on her face.
He turned to frown at her, “Huh?”
She rolled her eyes at him like he was the one who wasn’t making sense, “Pretty sure he just wanted to ensure you’d be taken care of after he was gone. I hear that's a pretty common occurrence between parents and their kids.”
Something thick coiled around his chest, and it took him a minute to find his voice again. “I guess,” he said quietly, prying a piece of grass from the ground beneath his shoe.
He almost mentioned the fact that Gojo had left Tsumiki a pretty sizable amount of money as well, but realized very quickly that if he spoke that particular thought aloud it would most definitely break him.
“Is it bad that I’m kind of pissed at him?” he asked quietly.
Shoko hummed thoughtfully for a moment. “No, I wouldn’t say so.” she replied, “Isn’t it supposed to be one of the stages of grief or whatever? If anything it means you're doing something right.”
Megumi’s shoulders relax almost instantly at her, and he can’t help but let out a tired sigh. He leans forward to massage his knuckles against the pulsing headache that threatens to break his skull and Shoko rocks back and forth on her heels behind him.
“I’m pissed too, if it’s any consolation."
He blinked, a little startled. “Wha- really?”
She let out a snort, “Yeah, of course. That idiot was supposed to outlive all of us, since the very beginning all of us had made peace with that. Now that he’s kicked it we’re all left to deal with having to adjust to picking up all of the slack he’s been carrying for so long.” She paused for a moment, glancing up at the sky, “Though I can’t stay too mad. He went out how he would have wanted to, and he’s back with the rest of our classmates and I think that’s all he really would have wanted. If anything I’m envious.”
Envious.
He had never thought of it that way.
Megumi hadn’t really thought of death too hard before Shinjiku. He knew the biological explanation of bodily-functions stop-working-so-you-do-too well enough. Probably at too young of an age now that he thinks about it.
Now that he thinks about it, he really hopes there's something better than just an endless void. He thinks peace in an afterlife sounds more pleasant than simply never existing at all.
Unfortunately that just makes him even more pissed somehow, because now Gojo was able to exist in a plane of reality where he was entirely unburdened by the ties of the living world. Now Gojo was finally free from the expectations Megumi had watched slowly drain him over the decade they had known each other. Now Gojo was free to simply be with the weight of a world that seems to see suffering as the normality and relief as the exception.
Gojo was able to find peace now.
Megumi was still stuck here.
“Does it ever get any easier?” he found himself asking, before the thought of speaking even managed to cross his mind.
She fixed him with a soft look for a moment, a look much too soft for someone like Shoko, before she let out a long drawn out sigh.
“You want me to answer the question you asked, or the question you meant to ask?”
Megumi frowned slightly, “Why are they two different ones?”
“Well, I guess to ask the question you asked, then the answer is yes. Eventually it will all get easier. Maybe not quickly, and certainly not soon, but eventually you’ll find that the pain starts to ache less and the weight of their memory doesn’t hurt as much. You won’t struggle to carry on nearly as much as you do now.”
“What about the other question?” He asked, slightly skeptical.
A bitter smile stretched across her gaunt face, “To your actual question is, no, the pain doesn’t ever go away. Sure the weight will eventually become more bearable, but that is not because the pain dulls, you simply learn to become more accustomed to it.” She pointed the end of her cigarette directly at him, and Megumi watched as the smoke trailed off into the air, “You will always miss them, that’s for sure not going away. Their loss will always follow you no matter how many good things happen to you after the fact and no matter how many rock bottoms you plunge into later down the road.”
Megumi’s jaw clenched. Despite feeling disappointed by the answer he received, he couldn’t honestly say he was terribly surprised by Shoko’s direct response.
He swallowed, “But what if I’m not strong enough? What if the grief keeps me from moving on? What if…” it was all a mistake? What if continuing to live resulted in nothing?
“Well, that really depends.” She leaned forward, “You’re still here aren’t you?”
He nodded.
“And you’re sticking to that?” Her sullen eyes bore directly into his, “You’re not going to chicken out when it gets too hard?”
I’d be lonely without you, Fushiguro.
He swallowed, and firmly shook his head.
“Well there ya go,” she plopped the cigarette back into her mouth, and nodded along as if that was all there was to it, “Staying alive is already fighting half the battle, so you’ve got that covered.”
“But-”
“-and don’t worry so much about being strong enough,” she interrupted, rolling her eyes exasperatedly, “God, you sound just like Satoru. Just keep working on making it to the next day and everything else will straighten itself out.”
Her words sounded frustratingly simplistic, which only served to make Megumi more anxious.
She shrugged, “What’d you expect me to say, here kid have some magic drugs that will make all of your problems go away.”
He shot her a dry look, “I just want it to be worth it you know,” he finally admitted, “I want to know that I’m not just suffering for no reason. That if they died for me to live… that it was all for a purpose.”
“Well,” Shoko said slowly, “I guess only you can be the judge of what your own purpose will be. That’s not really something the universe can just decide for you, destiny isn’t written out like a script afterall.”
“Are you just saying that,” he asked, “Or is there some personal experience there?”
Shoko hummed thoughtfully for a moment, tilting her head to the side as she blew out a small stream of smoke in the opposite direction.
“Guess it’s changed a bit for me,” she admitted, “When I was younger it just seemed like I was here because that’s how it was always supposed to be, you know? I had Reverse Cursed Technique, which meant I could fix people up over and over again so obviously that was what I was meant to do for the rest of my life.”
She went quiet, and Megumi waited for her to continue. The two of them watched the smoke slowly dissipate into the air, as the familiar stench filled his senses once more.
“I guess I was never really in it to help people, as messed up as that sounds.” she sighed, “When you start moving from saving people from the brink of death to operating on corpses, everything gets a bit bleaker. Especially when the rest of your friends start dropping like flies without any warning.” She clicked her tongue, “I guess, I’ve just been the last one standing for so long I’ve just decided I might as well just commit to it now, you know? I’ve gotten used to doing so much damage control, I suppose that there’s no point in stopping now.”
Megumi couldn’t help but imagine a teenage Shoko, watching as they brought in student after student as she was forced to resurrect them over and over again. Imagine them bringing her Haibara's corpse and expecting her to be able to do something about it. Imagined her watching Geto leave them all behind for the last time after the death of his parents. Imagine her hearing the news of Nanami in Shibuya, knowing that they wouldn’t even have a proper body to bury. Imagined her watching as Megumi split Gojo-
“Besides,” she continued, interrupting his thoughts, “If I were to bite it now, then that means Utahime would be the last one of us left.” She dropped her cigarette to the floor, and stamped out the end of it with the front of her shoe. “She’s not built to handle that kind of thing, it would be too cruel of me to force her through something like that.” She chuckled to herself, though there was something a little broken to it.
Megumi stared at her for a moment.
He supposed the two of them were alike in the way. Neither of them were focused on creating a new system like Gojo, or saving people like Yuji. They were just in it to try and support the people they knew were actively working to do good, and that they had personal feelings towards.
“I guess we’re in the same boat then,” he said quietly.
As long as he could keep Yuji from being lonely, Megumi would live and as long as Utahime was still standing, Shoko would be waiting to inevitably carry on her legacy.
Shoko smiled, “Guess so.”
He hesitates for a second, reaching over to adjust the bouquet slowly so they lean a little straighter against Gojo’s grave “I’m glad you're still sticking around. However selfish that may be.” he sighs, “Gojo may have been the one who officially took me and Miki in, but you were there too. And that will always mean something to me.”
It takes him a moment to gather the courage to look back but when he finally did he found Shoko smiling down at him.
It was a bit startling to be honest, as she rarely ever did so and it was all wide eyed and full of teeth and just generally a bit unnerving to look at. But it was real and it was honest and it held so much unspoken meaning that it made Megumi want to do something ridiculous like hug her.
“You too,” she said softly, and he thinks he imagines the glassy look in her eyes over his own blurry vision, “I’m glad you're sticking around too.”
And when she reaches out her hand, he finds he doesn’t hesitate to take it and squeezes back just as tightly.