[ megumi watches yuuji fall backwards in slow motion. cut out this small square space in this room, and they could still be back in Tokyo—another afternoon-turned-evening with yuuji in the jujutsu technical high’s dormitory. his next-door neighbor, sprawled on his stomach and reading manga on megumi’s bed.

like a big dog.

the gravity of the situation isn’t lost on megumi, but it’s undercut by that prevailing sense of familiarity again. a month of absence, like those weeks following his first official faceoff with sukuna.

megumi, still perched on the bedside stool, doesn’t protest yuuji’s hijacking of his space. ]

That’s the official line they’ve given us. [ whether or not it’s true? still up in the air.

and, well. there’s a beat here, as if megumi is thinking about something—when isn’t he, though—and the following breath of silence is an obvious tell that he’s decided that, whatever he’s been thinking about, he won’t say. fushiguro megumi, a terrible liar.

(“he’ll probably come here of his own accord.”) ]

According to the ones who brought us here, it’s supposed to be for our ‘own good’—who knows. [ his shoulder hike up, just slightly. a half-shrug. ] If we can find our way back to our world before we have to play their game, that’s the ideal.