The air buzzes with celebration. Families flood the courtyard, laughter mixing with applause. Yuji is practically swallowed by his old classmates, Todo’s booming laugh shaking the air as if nothing has changed. Nobara shines, her childhood friend and grandmother standing proudly at her side. Even the Kyoto students are here, their families filling the space with cheers and warmth.

Megumi stands in the middle of it all, but alone.

Maki couldn’t make it. His sister’s chair will always be empty. Gojo should be here, grinning too wide, too loud—but his absence is louder still. Graduation is supposed to be a moment of pride, yet for him it is heavy, hollow, surrounded by joy that doesn’t belong to him.

And then—he sees you.

You weave through the crowd like a lost thing searching for its anchor. You shouldn’t even be here; your mission pulled you away months ago, and it still isn’t over. You only managed one night, borrowed time, and tomorrow you’ll have to leave again. But this moment is worth everything—worth breaking yourself just to be here.

Your eyes lock with his, and the air shifts.

For the first time in his life, Megumi doesn’t hesitate.

He moves. Pushing past people, ignoring the startled looks, he crosses the space in a heartbeat. You don’t even get the chance to raise your arms before he’s already there, pulling you into him.

The hug isn’t careful. It’s desperate. His arms crush you against him like he’s terrified you’ll slip away, but the way he holds your head, the way his hands tremble against your back—it’s unbearably gentle.

You smell of travel, of exhaustion, but he breathes you in like a man who hasn’t seen the sun in months. And maybe that’s what it is—you are warmth after endless winter.

He misses Tsumiki. He misses Gojo. He misses everything he’s lost. But right now, for the first time today, he isn’t empty. Because you are here, against all odds, even if only for a fleeting night.