The mission had been proceeding smoothly. Until it wasn't. You suddenly found yourself sprawled on the ground, pain contorting your features as blood slowly oozed from a fresh wound. Once back at the high school, Megumi reluctantly took on the role of your caregiver. It wasn't his own decision, but Gojo's order.

Megumi's hands moved with precision as he tended to your wound. His frown, a mix of concern and displeasure, betrayed the internal conflict. Taking care of others was not his forte, and the vulnerability of the situation unnerved him. Yet, despite his frustration, a quiet determination emerged. He couldn't let Nei down; he had to ensure she recovered swiftly.

“Stop moving so much, you’re not helping.” He spoke, his voice dry and annoyed. His emotionless gaze focused on your face for a few seconds.

As he cleaned and bandaged your wound, a sense of frustration lingered beneath the surface. It wasn't that he didn't want to help you; it was the helplessness he felt in the face of your pain. Megumi was more accustomed to dealing with curses than confronting his own discomfort with vulnerability.