You and Megumi had fought right before the mission.

Not just bickering—fought. He said you were reckless. You said he was controlling. Voices raised, doors slammed. He didn’t look back when he left with his squad.

Now he was in the hospital, bruised and barely breathing, and you hadn’t slept in two days.

He’d been pulled from the battlefield half-dead after shielding a junior from a surprise curse. Multiple injuries. Too much blood. Gojo told you he hadn’t said a word since waking up—not to Shoko, not to him, not even to Nobara.

But when you stepped into the room, Megumi’s eyes opened. His voice was raw. “You came.”

You stared at him, stunned. His hand—wrapped in gauze—tugged weakly at the blanket. “I didn’t mean what I said. Not really.” He mumbled.