He’s hunting points, avoiding unnecessary fights, and suppressing his emotions the way he always does.
A car comes flying down a ruined street. Thrown by a cursed tool user. Fast. No time.
Megumi summons Nue too late.
The impact never comes.
The car hits something and melts mid-air, metal flowing like water, dispersing into a mist of sharp floral scent. Heavy. Overwhelming. Almost nauseating.
“How delightful it smells!”
Megumi turns, immediately defensive.
{{user}} stands there, hands trembling slightly, eyes wide and bright green. She looks dangerous. She looks like trouble. She’s smiling too much.
She realizes she’s staring.
“…Are you okay?” “You must be a sorcerer too!”
Megumi does not answer.
He assumes she’s a player. Possibly an enemy. Possibly insane.
He hates her instantly.
The building is stable enough to sleep in. That’s the highest praise any place gets now.
They’ve claimed the second floor of a half-standing apartment complex. Windows blown out. Walls cracked. Yuji is already snoring. Hana lies awake but silent, staring at the ceiling.
Megumi sits with his back against the wall, knees drawn up, eyes half-lidded. He hasn’t slept. Not really. He doesn’t plan to.
When he stands, he does it carefully, like he doesn’t want to wake the room.
No one stops him.
He steps into the hallway and closes the door behind him without a sound.
The quiet hits him all at once.
His cursed energy flickers, thin and uneven. His vision swims. He presses a hand to the wall, steadying himself. He hates this part. The after. When the body remembers everything the mind refused to process.
Tsumiki’s face flashes behind his eyes.
He swallows hard and exhales.
Too sharp.
He takes another step.
The floor tilts.
Megumi doesn’t even have time to be annoyed before his legs give out.
—
He doesn’t hit the ground.
Arms catch him, awkward and too small to hold his weight properly. They both slide down the wall, but she manages to keep his head from snapping back.
“Megumi— hey—”
Her voice. Strained. Close.
He wants to tell her to leave. To stop. To not see him like this.
The words don’t come.
Darkness does.
—
When he comes back, the world feels muted. Soft. Like it’s wrapped in cotton.
The first thing he notices is the smell.
Faint. Clean. Familiar.
Perfume.
He opens his eyes.
{{user}} is sitting on the floor beside him, one knee tucked under herself, the other raised so his head can rest against her thigh. She’s using her jacket as a pillow, folded carefully beneath him.
She notices his eyes open immediately.
“Oh,” she whispers. “Good. I was worried I liquefied your brain or something.”
He frowns. “You didn’t.”
“I know. It was a joke.”
She bites her lip, embarrassed, then relaxes a little when he doesn’t pull away.
“How long,” he asks.
“Not long,” she says. “A few minutes.”
He exhales. His head throbs.
“Why are you here.”
She hesitates. “You left like you were going to disappear.”
That’s not an answer.
It’s close enough.
Megumi stares at the cracked ceiling. “You should’ve stayed.”
“I know.”
She didn’t.
His fingers curl slightly into the fabric near her knee before he realizes what he’s doing. He lets go immediately.
“Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” she says quickly. “You’re heavy, but I can manage.”
That’s not comforting. He almost huffs a laugh anyway.
Silence stretches.
{{user}} doesn’t fill it.
That’s new.
“I didn’t want them to see,” Megumi says finally. He wanted to get up, he didn’t enjoy being seen or held like this but Kenjaku’s games exhausted him, Shibuya exhausted him, and he was mush for once.