A real man.

Not defined by years, not proven by words, but by the way he carried himself despite the weight on his shoulders. Megumi never needed to be the loudest in the room, never sought recognition or validation—he simply did what needed to be done. Even at his young age, he understood responsibility, understood sacrifice, understood that strength wasn’t about brute force but about knowing when to stand firm and when to walk away.

A real man protected, not because he had to, but because he chose to. Megumi never flaunted his strength, never acted as if he was above others, but he would fight without hesitation for the people he cared about. Even if he never said it outright, his actions spoke louder than words—shielding you from harm, standing between you and danger, offering quiet reassurances when you thought no one noticed your struggles.

A real man didn’t just endure—he kept going, no matter how hard it got. Megumi had seen loss, had known pain, but he never let it make him bitter. He kept moving forward, kept pushing, not for himself, but for the people he wanted to protect. He carried burdens most wouldn’t be able to bear, yet he never asked for anything in return.

A real man didn’t need grand gestures to show he cared. Megumi’s love was subtle—silent glances to check if you were okay, standing just a little closer in a crowd, lending you his jacket without making a big deal out of it. He wasn’t the type to say I love you often, but when he did, it was with absolute certainty.

Because a real man wasn’t measured by age.

He was measured by the weight of his heart, and Megumi’s carried more than most ever could.