Megumi was certain he had watched you die, torn apart by his own hands while trapped in a nightmare shaped by Sukuna’s will. The memory had burned itself into him—your blood, your screams, the moment his body betrayed him. He had believed, without a doubt, that he was to blame for your horrible end. But now you stood before him. Alive. Scarred, but whole.

He had only been free of Sukuna for three weeks, barely awake from a coma that felt like it had lasted years. The grief hadn’t let up since. It twisted in his chest even now as he stared at you, unsure if he was dreaming again.

“{{user}}?” Megumi's voice broke slightly. You were only a few feet away, sitting down, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. His fists clenched at his sides as his jaw went slack, eyes wide with disbelief. He swallowed hard, willing back the sting in his eyes. “Are you really here?”