Chapter Text
Someone has peeled him off the ground and he’s moving at a rushed pace, wheels scraping against concrete, voices shouting in a flurry around him.
He curls in on himself as everyone reaches for another piece of him. Everything is blurry and it’s easier to let it collapse into darkness
—
There’s beeping. Screeching, obnoxious beeping. It’s complemented by wooshing medicinal air and the pungent scent of rubbing alcohol. His nose burns.
—
His eyelids are unimaginably heavy as he gets the vague urge to blink. He tightens every muscle in his face, but feels little actual movement.
“...gumi… ?” He hears somewhere in the distance. His ears are consumed by sharp ringing and a pounding heartbeat. It’s loud. It hurts.
—
“...eyes… Megumi… ope… your ey…” Someone demands. There’s hands on him, pulling on him, trying to yank him out of his blissfully agonizing slumber… He’s too tired.
—
He chokes on something as he inhales sharply. His already poor sense of balance tips maddeningly as he’s rotated ninety degrees, all his weight now on his bruised left side. His shoulder pops.
He groans as he spits out a mouthful of bilious and metallic fluid. It splatters against whatever plastic receptacle is forced under his chin.
—
“...ease wake up… Megumi… we need you…egumi…” There’s pleading upon pleading. A thumb runs back and forth over his knuckles soothingly, but whoever’s hand it is feels all too much like a far more sinister clawed paw.
—
He snaps into awareness suddenly, but he can’t control his movements. He makes a pained noise. He doesn’t know if he’s crying out for help or warning everyone to get away.
“Megumi, calm down.” He hadn’t realized he was shaking, bordering on thrashing in place. “I’m going to give you something to help you calm down, don’t fight it, just try to rest.” The instruction is smoky and soft.
There’s a stabbing pain in his arm, then a cooling pressure that brings staticky exhaustion along with it. He’s fading again.
“He’s waking up!” Joy in a shout. “Mrs. Ieiri, he’s waking up again, come back.”
“It’s doctor,” Shoko says flatly. Her heels click against the floor. “I’ve told you that more than once, Yuji.”
“Sorry,” Yuji replies quickly. “He’s moving again though!”
“Let go of him,” Shoko instructs. Yuji’s hand is on Megumi’s shoulder, squeezing excitedly. He removes it immediately. “Megumi, you with us?” The volume of her words increases gently as she crouches to his level. He’s laying down somewhere soft; a bed presumably.
“Hm…” He groans quietly. He can’t do much else.
Shoko’s cold fingers peel his eyes open the rest of the way. Everything is overly bright, especially when she shines a pen light directly into each pupil.
Megumi flinches, but he’s too fatigued to fight back. It’s been that way for a while.
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Yuji intones frantically before looking over his shoulder and shouting: “Kugisaki, he’s waking up! For real this time!”
“You said that last time,” Nobara’s quick to reenter though. She’s wearing something casual, a sweatshirt and sneakers. It’s still stylish, but unusual. “He’s not freaking out again, is he?” If Megumi had the energy to, he'd be embarrassed, humiliated through and through.
“How you feeling, pal?” Yuji turns back to Megumi, a wide grin across his face.
“You need to give him a few minutes,” Shoko pushes Yuji back a couple of feet. “Are you in any pain?”
“I…” Megumi tries to take stock of his body. There’s several IVs in him he realizes, one on the back of each hand and another in the crook of his right elbow. He’s got an O2 mask on, forcing air into his lungs. There are a number of wires all over his chest, presumably to monitor his heart and other vital organs. There’s some other miscellaneous tubes too, all beneath a soft robe tied neatly, yet loosely, around his waist.
“Sorry, that’s a stupid question,” Shoko shakes her head. Everything aches, but how could it not? “What’s the last thing you remember?”
“I… I don’t…” It hits him like a freight train. He tries to sit up with the realization, but he’s too weak to get far, and Shoko’s holding him down gently a moment later.
“Calm down, don’t move too much,” She says, her composure stinging like salt in the wound.
“I… I killed him… I killed all those people…” Megumi rasps. The words sting like blades in his throat. “I can’t… I’m…” His breath is already erratic. He’s gasping like a fish out of water. He clutches his chest helplessly.
“You didn’t,” Nobara’s next to Shoko now.
“You didn’t hurt anyone,” Shoko tells him sternly. “It’s not your fault.”
“Why am I alive…” He blubbers. “You were supposed to… to get rid of… I… I killed-”
“Breathe, Fushiguro,” He can’t tell which one of them says it. Megumi drags his sore knees to his chest and hides his face in them like he’s the one who needs to protect himself. Everything spins. It’s all melting together again. He’s going to pass out. He’s going to-
“Gojo-sensei is alive,” Yuji blurts out.
Silence. Icy silence.
Megumi lifts his head slowly. He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. He can’t move.
Shoko exhales heavily. “Well, okay-”
“We were going to wait until you were fully lucid to talk about that,” Nobara cuts her off sharply. She glares at Yuji.
“I’m sorry,” Yuji falters. “He deserves to know. He was panicking-”
“Hey-” Shoko tries to break the tension before a true fight emerges.
“What if some of Sukuna is still in there-”
“It’s not, that’s not possible, I-”
“Probably, but you could’ve at least let us confirm-”
“HEY,” Shoko steps between the two of them. She grabs each one by a shoulder, pushing them apart. “Stop it.”
“But-”
“Give him a break, he just woke up,” It’s scary when she’s mad. “Sukuna is dead. That is your friend and only your friend. Let him breathe for a moment-”
“I need to see him,” Megumi chokes out before he knows what he’s saying. “Please.”
Shoko sighs as she turns back to him. She lets go of his friends, then smoothes over the peeling tape on one of his IVs as she speaks, sitting on the edge of his bed. “I’d like to wait until you’re a little more stable and feeling yourself until we move you around, but I won’t stop you if you feel up to it now.”
“I… I don’t…” It hurts, down to the very core of each bone- “But I… I need to see him…”
“Yeah,” Her expression says she expected that response. “Yuji,” He stands at a soldier’s attention. He almost looks like he’s about to salute. “Go get me a wheelchair.”
“Yes, m’am!” He dashes off.
Nobara takes a seat on the uncomfortable little stool Yuji must have been sitting on for god knows how long. She watches as Shoko methodically disconnects each lead from the monitor on the wall. She silences it with the power-off button as it rings in a panic, thinking Megumi has flatlined.
“Was I… out for a while…?” Megumi asks hoarsely.
“Four days,” Shoko replies. She disconnects him from the saline drip hanging above. The other two IVs are already capped. One was probably for medications, and the other for blood or as a backup.
“Oh…” Megumi whispers as the oxygen mask is removed.
“Take a deep breath,” Shoko instructs. He does as he’s told. He doesn’t feel like he really deserves the air though. “That feel okay?”
Megumi nods. It’s okay enough.
“Tell me if you feel short of breath at all,” She narrows her gaze at him, but he’s saved as Yuji returns proudly with a wheelchair. “And keep that on,” Shoko clips a portable pulse oximeter onto his index finger. “Okay?”
“Okay.”
“Need some help?” Yuji offers kindly, holding out a hand. Megumi nods. He lets him and Shoko support him as he uncoordinately swings his legs off the bed and wobbles to his feet. A throb radiates up his spine as he sits down heavily. He tries not to let it show on his face.
The trek down the hall is arduous. Megumi leans forward dizzily, trying to cope with the motion sickness. Nobara’s sneakers squeal. Shoko asks if he needs a break. He shakes his head as mildly as he can. Yuji pats him on the back. Megumi can’t see his face, but the look of concern can be felt in his touch, and it makes Megumi unbearably guilty.
“You okay?” Yuji murmurs as they come to a stop before a door left open a crack. Megumi doesn’t reply. Shoko takes a breath behind him before pushing him inside.
“Hey, kid,” That voice is unmistakable. “Miss me?” It’s weak and gravelly, but it’s his.
The air is sucked out of Megumi’s lungs as he looks up. His eyes go wide.
Gojo’s sitting up in bed, wearing loose pajamas and square summer sunglasses. He’s got the same monitor and IV set up as Megumi did, only with a nasal cannula instead of a mask for O2. His chest rises and falls heavily like he’s exhausted. He’s got dark circles and a fading scar across his forehead that matches Yuta’s, who’s sitting at his bedside.
“Kelp,” Inumaki’s here too, leaning against the wall. He waves.
Megumi’s vision tunnels as if he’s looking through a fisheye lens. His lips are numb and dry. He must be hyperventilating. He wouldn’t know though. He’s not sure he’s still in his body.
“Fushiguro?” Yuji hovers over his shoulder. Megumi smacks him away at the wrist.
“Okay, everyone out,” Shoko decides, waving away all nonessential personnel.
Megumi blinks and he’s standing, stumbling pitifully toward Gojo. His vision clouds over. His knees give out.
Someone catches him. Megumi recognizes the “hey, careful.” It’s Yuta, presumably trying to leave but getting caught up in his mess by force. He’s always dragging everyone down with him…
“I… I…” His stomach flips. Gojo’s concerned countenance is front and center. He’s staring right at him, so worried. His brows knit together. The blueness of his irises shines through tinted lenses. It’s nauseating.
Megumi claps his shaking hand over his mouth, but he can’t contain an emotional dry heave.
“Okay, okay,” Yuta strong-arms him several feet over to a trashcan in the corner of the room. “It’s alright,” He says softly, rubbing up and down his back in a slow, steady motion.
Megumi braces himself against the wall, although Yuta still holds up most of his weight. He retches violently. He can’t remember the last time he ate, so all that comes up is a small amount of concentrated acid. It burns.
“You stay,” Yuta’s hand leaves his spine for just a moment. He motions somewhere behind himself. “I’ve got him,” Gojo must have tried to get up to comfort him, when he’s probably in far worse shape than Megumi ever was… He truly is a leech.
Megumi vomits again. He can’t tell if the tears welling up are from his shame or just the sourness on his tongue. Probably a mix of both.
Gojo’s severed upper body flickers in his memory. It’s all too clear: the blood overflowing out his lips and pouring over his confused, terrified face that only had a split second to form before the life left it.
Megumi claws at his eyes as if that’s going to destroy the image. He convulses with a nauseous sob. He coughs up an excess of bitter saliva. It blends with the similarly clear stream running down his cheeks, and becomes a snotty, acrid, salty mess all over his chin. It drips into the plastic bag in the bin below with a disgusting crinkle.
“Hey, breathe-”
He shoves Yuta away suddenly as he spins around. He trips toward Gojo’s bed. His elbows land on the blankets, but his joints are painfully hyperextended as gravity pulls the rest of his body down into a position it’s not meant to be. His knees can’t quite meet the ground and it hurts.
It hurts, but he doesn’t care because he’s grasping at Gojo and he’s there. He’s actually there.
He bawls loudly as Yuta picks him up by the underarms and deposits him on the mattress as a teary puddle with his head on Gojo’s lap.
“I’m sorry,” He cries pathetically. Gojo’s large, warm hand rests on his shoulder. His thumb moves back and forth rhythmically.
“Don’t worry about it, kid,” He murmurs. “You can’t get rid of me that easily.”
“I don’t…” Megumi gasps between words. “I don’t want… to get rid of you…”
“I know,” Gojo plays with his hair. “I know, kiddo.”
“I… I saw you die…” He watched it happen and did nothing like a fucking idiot. “I killed you- I… This can’t be… I…”
“I’m here now,” Gojo says calmly. “Pretty roughed up, but-”
“I’m so sorry,” Megumi whines. He sounds like a child.
“Shh,” Gojo hushes him like he’s eight and throwing a tantrum again. “It’s okay.”
Megumi buries his face in Gojo’s abdomen, fingers wrapped tightly around bunches of fabric from his shirt. Wet splotches soak into the cotton as he cries. Gojo stays calm as ever, just consoling him carefully.
Megumi’s not sure how long they let him stay in that plaintive position, but eventually Shoko nudges him. He’s vaguely aware that she’s been standing in the doorway for a while, but time’s up, it seems. Maybe this was all a dream and she’s a kind of omen to take him back to the harsh, sickening reality where he’s a helpless kid below the poverty line with no one to keep him away from the clutches of institutionalized familial abuse…
“Megumi, hey,” Yuta shakes him too. He must have zoned out: failed to respond. He’s always failing…
He looks up for guidance slowly. Gojo nods toward Shoko.
“Hey, head towards me a little,” She directs. He listens passively, doing what he’s told but not fully aware of it, like someone else is using his body again… “Hm…” Her expression is flat as she swipes a thermometer across his forehead. She checks the pulse ox.
“He okay?” Gojo asks. He sounds so tired.
“Yeah, yeah,” Shoko unclicks the locking mechanism on the wheelchair and brings it over. “I’d just like to get him back on fluids and some oxygen,” She explains. “Vitals are starting to drop a little…”
“Do you have to take him?”
“I…” Clearly not a question Shoko wants to answer.
“It’s fine,” Megumi wipes his nose on the back of his hand. He’s gotten Gojo’s shirt dirty enough. “I… I’m tired anyway…” That’s true, but right now, he’d rather sleep on Gojo’s shoulder like a pitiful little child. He hates himself for it though, so he’ll leave. “Just… Yeah… I’ll go…”
“You sure-”
“Yeah, yeah,” Megumi forces himself to sit up all the way. Yuta offers his arm as support. He sheepishly takes it, fixing his gaze on the floor as he and Shoko help him stand. “Sorry…”
“It’s okay,” Yuta tells him quietly, carefully guiding him into the seat. “Don’t worry about it,” He gives him a small smile.
“I’ll bring you back soon, don’t worry,” Shoko flashes the light in his eyes again before he takes up the driver’s spot behind the wheelchair. “Can’t have you passing out though.”
“I… Okay…” Megumi bends at the waist, hiding as best he can in his own thighs. He can already see Yuji and Nobara in the hall. He can feel Gojo watching him with a sad, fretting appearance that would surely hurt if he looked at it. It smarts anyway though, all the way out the door and back to his room.