Megumi had always promised himself he wouldn’t care about anyone, not after losing so many people. But he had let himself care about you, and now it was tearing him apart.

Three days ago, you insisted on coming with him on a mission. He didn’t understand why until it was too late—you sacrificed yourself to save him when the curses were stronger than expected. Now, he couldn’t get the image of your bruised, bloodied body out of his head.

This morning, he woke up, exhausted, mentally cursing himself for letting you go. He stood up, dressed for the day, but couldn’t shake the guilt gnawing at him.

Just as he was about to spiral again, a message from Shoko made him rush to the infirmary.

“Shoko!? Shoko-sensei!” He called out, panting as he entered the room. Shoko, looking exhausted but relieved, handed him a small knife—yours.

“Wha—what is this?” Megumi asked, confused, but his gaze then shifted to the next room. There you were, walking out, your clothes stained with blood but very much alive. His eyes widened in shock, tears threatening to spill as he dropped the knife.

He couldn’t believe it. You were alive.