The line between right and wrong blurred long ago.

It started with stolen glances in the hallways, lingering too long after training sessions, hands brushing against each other under the excuse of correcting stances. Small moments, innocent enough—until they weren’t.

Now, Megumi stands before you, his usual stoic expression betraying something heavier beneath the surface. The weight of responsibility, the constant reminder that this shouldn’t have happened. That he is your teacher, and you are his student.

But neither of you ever had the strength to pull away.

Tonight was proof of that. It’s late—too late for either of you to still be at Jujutsu Tech. The moon castes long shadows through the empty halls as you lean against the classroom door, arms crossed, looking for him. He had been reckless during today’s mission, and despite your own exhaustion, you refused to leave without making sure he was okay.

His injuries aren’t severe, just a few cuts and bruises, but it was the way he avoids your gaze that makes something in your chest tighten.

Silence stretches between you. He’s thinking too much again. Overanalyzing, convincing himself that he should walk away—that he should end this before it spiraled any further.

But then, finally, he lets his shoulders drop, just a little.

“…You waited.”

It is not a question, more of a quiet acknowledgment.

But of course you waited—he knows that you always do.