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Megumi sat stiffly in the too-small chair in Gakuganji’s office, arms crossed and face set in the kind of resting scowl that said I would rather be anywhere else, actually. The window was cracked open for ventilation—Gakuganji insisted on “fresh air”—but all it let in was the sharp bite of late autumn wind. It had been seven months since graduation. Seven months since they were officially licensed jujutsu sorcerers, fully responsible adults at the mature and wise age of eighteen—according to the elders, anyway.
Beside him, Yuuji Itadori sat with a kind of puppyish energy that was physically painful to witness. His winter jacket was slightly too big and rustled every time he shifted in his seat, which was constantly.
Gakuganji cleared his throat, clearly trying to maintain authority despite the fact that his scarf had somehow gotten stuck in his desk drawer. “This assignment is a Grade 1.”
Yuuji’s brows shot up. “Ooh, spicy.”
Megumi blinked slowly, nodding and wondering why they were sending BOTH Yuuji and him on a mission. It was rare that they got sent together on missions nowadays.
“Not because of the curse’s strength,” Gakuganji continued, ignoring him. “But due to its complexity. It’s an ancient curse. Manifested from suppressed hope—wishes unfulfilled. Coins tossed into fountains. Prayers made to stars. That desperation lingers, and it twisted into this.”
“A hope monster?” Yuuji asked.
“A dream-state curse,” Gakuganji said, a bit too gravely. “It traps sorcerers in a liminal space and forces them to experience a dream of deep, personal desire. Several weaker sorcerers were sent in. We had to forcibly pull them back.”
“Because they were stuck in their dreams?” Yuuji asked, leaning forward.
“Because they didn’t want to leave,” Gakuganji corrected.
Yuuji gave a low whistle, then turned to Megumi with wide eyes. “Ooh, wonder what your dream would be?”
Megumi blinked. “Peace and quiet.”
Yuuji gasped. “You are so boring.”
“Yours is probably food-related,” Megumi said flatly.
“Excuse you,” Yuuji said, pointing dramatically. “It would be food and hanging out with all my favorite people.”
“Ugh,” Megumi sighed exasperatedly.
Gakuganji cleared his throat again, louder this time. “You’ll be dealing with the curse in Akiyoshidō cave. There’s an old shrine near the entrance. It’s a tourist site, so the exorcism must be quick, discreet, and clean. And please remember: do not look into this curse’s eyes. That is how it attacks.”
Yuuji jumped to his feet. “Let’s go exorcise a cave troll!”
Megumi followed more slowly. “It’s not a troll.”
“Sounds like a troll.”
“It’s a curse.”
“Sounds like a cursed troll.”
Megumi sighed deeply and pulled his hood up as they stepped into the hallway, the cold immediately hitting them in the face.
Yuuji grinned, shoving his gloved hands into his pockets. “I still think you’re lying. Your dream’s probably like… sitting under a tree. With a cat. Reading a book.”
Megumi shrugged. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“It’s not! Just, you know, predictable.”
Megumi rolled his eyes. “Better than dreaming about a buffet with all your friends singing and holding hands.”
Yuuji pouted. “Don’t knock it till you try it.”
As they made their way toward the train station, Megumi walked a half step ahead—half to hide the faint blush on his face, and half to pretend he wasn’t already dreading what his dream might show. He definitely had to exorcise this curse before the dream started.
The bullet train hummed beneath them, a steady rhythm that made Megumi drowsy against the winter-gray landscape blurring past the windows. Tokyo had disappeared behind them hours ago, swallowed by suburbs, then farmland, then low rolling hills dotted with autumn trees. They were en route to Shin-Yamaguchi, four hours of travel in total, and it was quiet in the way long trips were—filled with the soft rustle of snack wrappers and half-finished conversations.
Yuuji sat beside him, legs stretched out shamelessly into Megumi’s space despite there being plenty of room. He was chewing on some weird regional konbu-flavored chips he picked up at the last station, and for some reason, that sound wasn’t bothering Megumi as much as it usually did.
In fact, it was sort of…endearing.
Ugh. Disgusting.
Megumi angled his head toward the window to hide the corner of his mouth twitching up.
"Hey," Yuuji said, voice muffled by food. "Did you know this prefecture has, like, five different types of pufferfish dishes?"
"You’re going to get poisoned."
"I'm going to thrive," Yuuji declared, pointing at him with a chip. "You, on the other hand, are going to order plain rice and shame the ancestors."
Megumi snorted. "It’s better than dying in a backwater izakaya because you thought tetrodotoxin sounded tasty."
"That was one time—"
"You’ve shouldn’t have eaten pufferfish."
"—and I would do it again."
Megumi shook his head, but he didn’t argue further. He liked this. The lull of the train. The ridiculous back-and-forth. Yuuji’s sleeve brushing his every time he shifted. He was warm like a space heater and smelled faintly of vending machine coffee and yuzu soap. He was always like this—bright, a little chaotic, full of life in the kind of way that made you want to sit closer without knowing why.
Megumi watched his reflection in the window instead. It was easier than looking at him directly. Yuuji had leaned back in his seat now, gazing at the ceiling with that soft, vacant expression he got when he wasn’t thinking about anything at all. Megumi had a sudden, stupid thought.
It would be lonely without you.
Yuuji had said that once—earnestly, after dragging Megumi out of his mental state while being possessed by Sukuna. Yuuji had been smiling like it was just a joke. It hadn’t felt like a joke. Not to Megumi.
He turned back to the view, face blank but heart very much not.
They switched trains at Shin-Yamaguchi, grabbing warm nikuman from a stall near the platform. Yuuji shoved an entire bun into his mouth and tried to ask something with his cheeks full, which was horrifying to witness.
"You’re a grown man now," Megumi deadpanned. "Act like one."
Yuuji swallowed dramatically. “I’m a fun man. There’s a difference.”
Megumi pretended to sigh but handed him a can of hot cocoa from the vending machine anyway.
“Thanks,” Yuuji grinned, already cracking it open and sipping. “You’re always looking out for me.”
Megumi shrugged, suddenly hyperaware of his own hands. “You’d die without supervision.”
“Maybe,” Yuuji said lightly, leaning against the train railing as they waited. “But it’d be a lot more boring without you.”
Megumi didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. Yuuji grinned anyway.
The second leg of their trip was quieter. Just a 40-minute ride to the little town near Akiyoshidō cave, and then a short walk to the shrine. They’d been warned the area would be half-deserted this time of year—off-season for tourists, too cold for field trips—but Megumi didn’t mind. It meant fewer people to worry about, and fewer excuses to keep looking over at the boy beside him who was still sipping cocoa and pointing out oddly-shaped clouds through the window.
He said one looked like a dog.
Megumi said it looked like a shoe.
They argued for ten minutes, and Megumi savored all of it.
They arrived at the cave just past noon, the clouds overhead thick and unmoving, like wet cotton pressed against the sky. The entrance to Akiyoshidō yawned wide and dark, the ancient limestone walls slick with condensation. It didn’t feel like a tourist attraction today. It felt like a warning.
The moment they crossed the threshold, Megumi felt it—the hum. Low and deep in his gut, like standing next to a speaker that only played dread. The cursed energy poured out in slow, heavy waves, almost invisible but thick as smoke. Next to him, Yuuji stumbled slightly, one hand clutching his side.
"Whoa," Yuuji muttered, coughing hard. “This thing feels like it’s sitting on my lungs.”
Megumi narrowed his eyes. “It’s suppressing your flow. Keep it cycling.”
Yuuji nodded, forcing a breath through his nose. “Yeah. I’m trying. It’s just... heavy. Like an elephant sitting on my chest.”
"Your metaphors are getting worse."
"That’s because I’m dying, Fushiguro."
"You’re not dying," Megumi muttered, stepping ahead.
They walked deeper, their footsteps echoing off the cavern walls. Artificial lights flickered overhead—installed for tourists, but now buzzing strangely, as if struggling to keep up. The deeper they got, the colder it became. Not physically—spiritually. It felt like they were walking into something old and patient.
“Do you see it?” Megumi asked quietly, eyes scanning the natural offshoots of the cave, the strange shadows cast by overhead lights.
Yuuji shook his head, wiping sweat from his forehead. “No shrine. Just rocks. Rocks and my impending curse-induced asthma.”
Megumi ignored that. He turned toward a narrow offshoot path, barely wide enough for one person. Not meant for tourists. Certainly not meant for them.
Then he saw it. Just the edge of it. The faded vermillion curve of a torii gate tucked behind a curtain of jagged stone. Not a shrine on display—one hidden, swallowed by time and cave sediment.
He nudged Yuuji with his elbow.
“There.”
Yuuji squinted. “Creepy as hell. That’s gotta be it.”
“Be careful,” Megumi warned, voice low now. “Don’t look into its eyes.”
“Noted.” Yuuji rubbed his face, clearly exhausted. “If it has eyes, I’m looking at its knees.”
They trudged toward the shrine together, each step feeling heavier, like the cave didn’t want them there. Like the air itself was thickening, reluctant to let them through.
Megumi glanced sideways. Yuuji was pale despite his usually tan skin, jaw tight, shoulders broad and tense. Big brown eyes as wide as ever, soft looking lips, button nose, still moving, still pushing forward.
It hit Megumi again, quietly, in the kind of way it always did when he wasn’t ready—how much he admired him. How much he—
No.
Focus.
He looked forward again. The torii was closer now. The cursed energy was getting worse. It vibrated against his bones like a tuning fork struck just slightly off-key.
They didn’t even make it to the torii before the curse emerged.
It didn’t crawl or lurch. It unfolded, as if it had always been part of the cave wall—bones shaped like stalactites, limbs made of dripping shadow. Its body was long and hunched, the texture of old stone and rotting moss. Its head was wrong, too tall, stretched like clay—and its face...
They couldn’t see the eyes directly. But even from the corner of his vision, Megumi caught a glimpse: dozens of them, twitching, blinking out of sync. A mosaic of eyes across its face, like someone had cracked a mirror and filled each shard with staring pupils.
"Don’t look up," Megumi hissed.
"Wasn’t planning on it!" Yuuji barked, already ducking low and moving fast.
They launched into motion. Megumi summoned his shikigami—frogs and wolves, shadows darting through the cave like blades—and Yuuji surged forward with brutal speed, landing blow after blow to the curse’s ribs and legs. But the thing didn’t flinch. Its body absorbed every hit like sludge, reforming, reshaping.
They fought without eye contact, only glancing at its knees, its feet, the shifting blur of cursed energy around its base. But it wasn’t enough.
They were losing.
Yuuji’s breathing turned ragged. One of the shikigami shattered into smoke with a sharp yelp. The curse was adapting. Learning.
“I’ll charge it,” Megumi shouted over the roar of the cursed energy. “I’ll get its attention. You—”
“No!” Yuuji snapped, eyes wide with panic. “That’ll take you out—!”
But Megumi was already moving. He reached into the floor, shadows pooling beneath his hands like ink. It was sloppy, desperate work—not a perfect opening, but wide enough.
“Get in!” he shouted. “Now!”
Yuuji dove for it. Megumi followed, the cold of the shadowspace licking at his legs.
But before he could sink fully in, the curse lunged.
A massive hand, gnarled and soaked with spiritual rot, closed around Megumi’s torso and lifted.
Megumi choked on a gasp as the air left his lungs. His legs kicked, shadow swirling around him like a whirlpool—but he was too far out. He felt the pressure—fingers digging into his ribs—and then—
“Fushiguro!” Yuuji yelled.
The curse forced Megumi’s head up. His eyes locked, for one horrifying second, with one of the dozens staring back.
And the world shattered.
Yuuji leapt up and punched the curse across the face, one fist square into a weeping, blinking eye. The creature screeched—but it was too late. As Yuuji’s knuckles connected, his gaze accidentally caught another eye—just a flicker of it—
And he was gone, too.
The cave dissolved into white.
The air, the light, the curse—it all fell away.
And then there was nothing.
A blank, endless hum.
Megumi stirred.
His body sank into something impossibly soft. A quilted bed. Clean sheets. Sunlight spilled through half-closed blinds in golden stripes. Somewhere outside, a rooster crowed. Ducks quacked. A cow lowed like this was a Studio Ghibli movie.
Megumi groaned, face scrunching against the pillow. His body was warm. Heavy. Relaxed. Which made no sense—hadn’t they just been fighting for their lives?
Where was he?
He didn’t have long to wonder. A pair of arms wrapped around his waist from behind, drawing him into a firm, warm chest. Lips pressed gently to the back of his neck.
“Good morning, Megumi-san,” said a voice. Familiar. Fond. Smiling.
Megumi went rigid. His heart stopped.
That voice.
That warmth.
That smell. Vanilla and summer grass and everything that made him feel like an idiot.
He shot upright with a panicked breath.
Yuuji blinked up at him from the pillows, all sleepy eyes and confusion. Except—there were no scars. No faint scowl of tension. He looked slightly older. Softer. Completely unbothered.
“Megumi-san?” Yuuji asked. “What’s wrong?”
Megumi scrambled backward on the bed. “The cave,” he gasped. “We were in the cave. There was a curse—covered in eyes—and it grabbed me and—you—”
Yuuji sat up, brows pinching with concern. “You had a bad dream,” he said gently. “That’s all. Remember? We quit that life.”
Megumi stared at him, dumbfounded.
“What are you talking about?” he whispered.
Yuuji reached out and ran a calming hand along Megumi’s back. “We’ve been here for months, Megumi. You, me, and our girls. We’re safe. You don’t have to fight anymore.”
Megumi blinked.
Girls?
Yuuji leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his lips.
Megumi froze.
His breath caught in his throat. Every cell in his body screamed that this was wrong—he knew this was wrong—but then Yuuji’s hands slid up his back, warm and grounding, and Megumi—
He kissed back.
Eagerly. Desperately. Like a starving man biting into a meal.
He curled his fingers in Yuuji’s shirt and leaned in, letting himself drown for just a second. Yuuji’s scent was the same. His touch was real. Megumi’s heart ached from how badly he wanted to believe this.
Then—a baby’s cry cut through the moment.
Another followed. Louder.
Yuuji pulled away with a groan and a soft smile. “I’ve got them. Can you start breakfast?”
Megumi, dazed, nodded like an idiot. “Yeah. Sure. Eggs. Or something.”
Yuuji ruffled his hair, kissed his temple, and left the room.
Megumi sat frozen in bed for a moment, face flushed and fingers still curled around a handful of sheets.
Okay. Okay. This was absolutely a dream. But it felt good. Too good. Like he could let himself pretend for just a while.
He dragged himself to the kitchen, heart still thudding. As he opened cabinets and looked for a pan, one thought echoed in his mind—
Where’s the real Yuuji?
And how the hell was he going to get them out of this?
Yuuji came down the stairs balancing one daughter in each arm. “We’ve got two grumpy ladies this morning,” he said with a soft chuckle.
Megumi turned around from the stove just in time to see Yuuji kiss the top of one girl’s head before settling her gently into a high chair, then doing the same for the other. The babies cooed and kicked their feet, one of them babbling nonsense, the other fixated on gnawing her sleeve.
Megumi’s brain felt like it was wrapped in cotton. What is happening.
He numbly set the plates and cups on the table, moving automatically. Yuuji sat beside one daughter and picked up a tiny spoon, coaxing her into trying mashed sweet potatoes. “C’mon, you liked this yesterday,” he whispered, playfully. “Don’t lie to me now.”
Megumi sat across from him and did the same with the other child. Her little hands gripped the tray, eyes blinking slowly at him, and when she finally opened her mouth and accepted a spoonful, Megumi let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.
The dining room was sun-warmed and cozy. It smelled like food and baby wipes and home. He felt—dazed. Unmoored. Like someone had pulled his spirit out of his body and dropped it into the fantasy of someone else's life.
Then he saw it.
A wedding photo. Hung beside the calendar.
Yuuji’s hair was slightly longer. Megumi wore a black suit and tie. They were standing on a hill with cherry blossoms behind them, fingers intertwined, grinning like idiots.
Megumi’s blood went cold.
“...When did that happen?” he asked, voice thin.
Yuuji looked up from feeding the baby and blinked at him. “What? The wedding? Earlier this year. Right after we graduated.” He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Then we adopted the girls. You don’t remember?”
Megumi hesitated. His throat felt tight. “Right,” he said. He forced a smile. “I remember now.”
So this was it. This was his dream. Yuuji, and the kids, and the soft light of a morning he never had to wake up dreading.
Megumi looked down at his daughter, her cheeks covered in food, her eyelids fluttering sleepily. A deep dread crept into his chest. This life wasn’t real. It wouldn’t ever be real.
And yet—he wanted it. So badly it hurt.
“You okay, Megumi-san?” Yuuji’s voice pulled him back.
Megumi blinked, caught in the open, and said—almost shyly—“Yeah. I’m okay.”
Yuuji nodded, but he still looked a little worried.
The girls finished their meal, fussed a bit, then went still in their chairs. Yuuji picked them up one by one and changed their diapers with calm, practiced motions. He hummed a little under his breath as he worked.
By the time he returned, both babies were asleep on his shoulders. He put them down gently in their cribs.
“Want to come with me to check on the animals?” he asked, adjusting one of the babies with his free hand.
Megumi swallowed his emotions and nodded. Outside, the world was green and golden. Wait... wasn't it just gray and freezing?
The air was thick with a dreamscape summer warmth. Chickens clucked and waddled between their feet. The cow lowed lazily as Megumi ran his hand over her soft hide. He scratched behind the ears of a dozing horse, who nuzzled his shoulder in return. Ducks waddled by in a chaotic line, honking at nothing in particular.
Yuuji laughed as one of them bit his pant leg. “This one always starts trouble.”
Megumi turned, and Yuuji was watching him. Like Megumi was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
There was no teasing in it. No smugness. Just... warmth. Admiration. Love.
Megumi’s chest felt like it was going to crack open. He looked away, cheeks burning, and focused on petting the cow again. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this happy. That scared him more than anything.
They finished the chores in a haze of gentle laughter and quiet touches. Yuuji brushed hay off Megumi’s shoulder at one point and grinned like he wanted to kiss him again, but didn’t.
When they reached the fence at the end of the pasture, Yuuji leaned in. “I’m gonna check on the kids,” he said softly. “You want to stay with the animals for a bit?”
Megumi nodded. “Yeah. Just a little longer.”
Yuuji kissed his cheek—so natural, so easy—and walked away with a wave. As soon as he was out of sight, Megumi dropped the act. His face tightened. His spine straightened. He turned and scanned the barn, the pasture, the treeline.
There has to be a way out.
Even if he didn’t want to go. Especially because he didn’t.
Megumi stepped into the barn, eyes adjusting to the dim light streaming through the slats in the wood. Dust hung in the air like mist, catching in the sunbeams. The scent of hay and animals filled his lungs. His boots thudded softly against the wooden floor as he moved between empty stalls and feed bins.
Think. If this was a dream born from a curse, there had to be a leak in the illusion. Something imperfect. Something cursed.
He reached out with the thinnest thread of what little cursed energy he could muster without alarming any possible being in this dream—if any of it even worked here—and felt…
A pulse.
So faint it could’ve been missed. Just a whisper of familiar energy, not like his own. Not like the warm, sugary presence of this dream-Yuuji, either.
This one was real.
He turned, following it toward the far corner of the barn, past a stack of hay bales. Nestled between the boards of the back wall, half-covered in dust, was something small and bright red.
Megumi crouched, brushing it off.
A small plastic capsule. Cracked open.
Inside was a well-worn, chibi-sized Gachapon figure of Anpanman. It had a chip on one eye and a smudge of dirt on its face.
Megumi stared at it, heart lurching.
He remembered this.
Back during a random mission in Osaka, Yuuji had dragged them into a corner store for drinks and snacks. He’d dropped a few coins into a vending machine on a whim and cheered when he got this one. “Look, it’s like fate!” he’d grinned, holding it out. “He’s a hero, and he has a red bean bun for a head. It’s perfect.”
Yuuji had kept it on his nightstand for months. Said it helped him sleep. But how could this object be in the dream? Yuuji would never have brought this with him on an assignment.
Megumi clutched the toy in his fist.
The world around him shivered.
The light cracked.
Reality wavered like heat haze, and the soft sounds of ducks and cows were drowned by a low, humming static.
He stood up fast, breath catching in his throat—
—and then everything snapped to black.
When Megumi opened his eyes, he was no longer in the barn.
He was standing in the middle of a sun-drenched soccer field.
The grass was freshly cut, warm under his bare feet. A gentle breeze carried the smells of charcoal smoke and grilled meat. Nearby, park barbecue grills sizzled, smoke curling into the sky. There were picnic tables scattered across the lawn, some covered in red-checkered cloths, others crowded with paper plates and soda cans. People laughed. Someone was blasting music from a portable speaker—something upbeat and nostalgic.
Megumi blinked.
There was Gojo, wearing sunglasses and flipping something on the grill with dramatic flair. Tsumiki sat beside Nanami at one of the tables, arguing over who got the last rice ball. Yuuta and Maki were laughing over a plate of yakisoba, Inumaki held up a peace sign with a hot dog sticking out of his mouth, and even Nobara was there, yelling at Panda for drinking the last of the ramune.
They were eating grilled corn, onigiri, skewered chicken, watermelon slices, and something that looked like burnt mochi.
Everyone who was gone. Everyone they’d lost.
Alive. Happy. Whole.
Megumi froze, heart in his throat.
This wasn’t his dream.
This was Yuuji’s.
His gaze darted, scanning the crowd. Panic bubbling in his chest.
He spotted him. Yuuji.
But not the real one. No scar. No guilt in his eyes. This Yuuji looked rested, easy in his skin, chatting as he passed a soda can to Gojo and called out cheerfully:
“Megumi-san! Over here! Try the yakisoba! Nanami-san made it!”
Megumi flinched.
Megumi-san. Yuuji hadn’t called him that ever. He sounded polite. Distant. Wrong.
Megumi’s stomach turned.
He backed up a step, breath short. If he was here—in Yuuji’s dream—that meant…
Yuuji must be in mine.
Megumi closed his eyes, the realization hitting him like a punch to the gut.
Yuuji was in the farm. With the dream-version of himself. With their fake daughters. In that bed.
He wanted to scream. Yuuji couldn’t know about Megumi’s feelings toward him, this would ruin their friendship and make Yuuji uncomfortable and-
No. No no no no—
His hands clenched at his sides. He could feel the cursed energy of this place now. Soft. Thick like honey. Meant to lull, not frighten. This dream was designed to hold Yuuji down, to soothe him into staying forever.
He opened his eyes again. Everyone was still smiling. Still eating. Still alive.
And for a single, selfish second, Megumi felt the sharp ache of wanting to stay, too.
Megumi sat down slowly at the picnic table, blinking through the sunlight.
Tsumiki looked up from her plate and beamed. “There you are,” she said, like nothing had ever gone wrong, like she hadn’t died. “You hungry?”
Gojo, seated across from her, gave him a lazy grin over the top of his sunglasses. “I saved you a skewer. Nanami said if I took one more he'd slap my hand.”
Megumi swallowed hard, the warmth of the scene washing over him. For a moment, he couldn’t speak. His mouth opened, but the words caught in his throat.
“You okay, Megumi?” Tsumiki asked gently, her voice as soothing as he remembered.
He looked at her—really looked. Her soft smile, the way her hair was braided, her delicate hands holding a napkin with mochi on it. And Gojo too, leaning on one arm like he had all the time in the world.
“I missed you,” Megumi whispered.
Tsumiki tilted her head. “I missed you too.”
“I… I’m sorry,” he said. “For not being strong enough. For letting everything happen the way it did. For—” his voice cracked. “For not saving you.”
A breeze rustled the leaves overhead. Gojo leaned back with a small smile. “There’s nothing to be sorry for, kid.”
“You did your best,” Tsumiki said, her hand reaching across the table to squeeze his. “You always did.”
Megumi's eyes stung. “It wasn’t enough.”
“It never feels like it is,” Gojo murmured. “But we’re not here to blame you, Megumi. We love you.”
That did it.
His breath hitched and he looked down fast, swiping furiously at his eyes. “Sorry,” he mumbled again, more to himself this time. “God. I didn’t mean to—”
“You’re allowed to cry, Megumi,” Tsumiki said, her voice light. “You’re human.”
He let himself sit there a little longer, surrounded by the warmth and love he’d lost. Then, slowly, he exhaled.
Okay. No more stalling.
He stood, clearing his throat. “I have to go,” he said.
Tsumiki nodded, like she understood. “We’ll be here,” she said.
Gojo gave him a casual salute. “And make sure you get the courage to ask Yuuji out!”
Megumi blinked. “You knew?”
Gojo winked. “Please. I’m your teacher, I’m not oblivious.”
Megumi flushed and turned away. “You’re the worst.”
He made his way toward the field’s edge, trying to focus. Something brought me here. There has to be a way back.
Then he saw it.
Lying in the grass, half-tucked beneath a blanket from the picnic—Yuuji’s old school ID. The one he kept in his wallet even after transferring. Beat up, water-damaged, edges peeling. But the name was there. Itadori Yuuji.
Megumi took a cautious step forward. These objects couldn’t be real—they had to be manifestations, symbols left behind by their connected minds. If that was true, then returning to his own dream would pull Yuuji back into this space with him. And maybe, just maybe, he could finally drag that idiot out of his deepest, most embarrassing fantasy—being married to him.
As soon as his fingers closed around the card, the entire dreamscape rippled.
The sun blinked out. The laughter faded.
Then darkness.
And then—
Warmth. Sheets. The smell of vanilla and morning dew.
He was back.
Back in the farmhouse bedroom, the weight of a ring on his finger, the sound of someone humming in the other room, faint little giggles from their daughters.
Back in the dream where he was married to Yuuji.
Megumi sat up slowly in bed, rubbing his eyes. “Okay,” he whispered. “Time to find you, Yuuji.”
He slipped out from under the covers and padded toward the living room, heart pounding.
Megumi’s breath was slow, steady. He could hear the soft static of the TV, the peaceful breathing of their sleeping daughters, and as he sat down on the couch, the steady heartbeat of the man beside him.
Dream Yuuji. Not real. Not really.
The warmth of Yuuji’s arm around his shoulder felt real. Too real. That was the danger. This dream was sticky like honey. It was everything he wanted—and that was exactly why he had to get out.
His head rested against Yuuji’s shoulder, but his mind raced.
The objects... They are bridges to our minds. Which means…
They were already connected, somehow. The curse hadn’t just made them dream; it had tangled, possibly accidentally, their consciousness. That’s why he and Yuuji kept pulling each other into their own dreams. So the key wasn’t to escape alone. It was to sync up—to meet in the middle.
But how?
Every time one of them switched, the other switched too. One always moved forward, and the other got dragged along.
Like a pendulum, Megumi thought. Back and forth. Never meeting. Unless... we jumped together.
He needed to find a way to communicate that to the real Yuuji. But dream Yuuji had no idea what was happening—he was just a figment.
He looked out the window, still leaning on dream Yuuji’s shoulder. It was warm and bright outside, the sky wide and open with a few perfect clouds drifting lazily above the trees. Just like it had looked in Yuuji’s dream.
Then it hit him.
The clouds.
The last dumb thing they’d argued about before getting cursed was during the train ride home—Yuuji had pointed at a cloud and said it looked like a dog. Megumi, deadpan, had said it looked like a shoe. They’d spent the entire ride teasing each other about it. If Yuuji saw that in the sky again—right now, in his dream—he might try and switch with him at the same time. It was a longshot, but maybe…
He slowly sat up from the couch.
“I’ll be right back,” he murmured.
But as he reached the door, dream Yuuji caught his wrist.
“You’re leaving?” he asked softly, brows drawn together. His voice was low so as not to wake the sleeping girls nearby. “Now?”
Megumi blinked, startled. “Just going to the barn,” he said quickly—too quickly.
Dream Yuuji looked at him for a long moment, eyes warm and sad. Then he said, “If you leave… I’ll miss you. I hope—” he hesitated, glancing at the twins— “I hope you can make this real someday.”
Megumi’s throat tightened. He opened his mouth to say something—anything—but dream Yuuji had already turned away, crouching to tuck the girls in more snugly.
It’s not him, Megumi reminded himself, heart pounding. Just a figment. My subconscious trying to help.
Still, it felt like leaving something precious behind.
He slipped out the door and broke into a run.
At the edge of the dream’s landscape, he stopped in an open field. Blue skies stretched above. A few wispy cirrus clouds drifted lazily.
He pressed his palms to the ground and channeled cursed energy into his shadow.
Think like Gojo, he told himself grimly. Think outside the box.
He focused on the physics of it: If he could create a localized zone of low pressure above him—just enough to destabilize the thermals—he could encourage condensation and cloud growth. He pictured it in detail: warm air rising, expanding, cooling, and reaching dew point.
Using his Ten Shadows Technique, he summoned a swirling veil of shadow above the field. It gathered, compressed, and began to pull—siphoning heat and moisture upward like a reverse drain. The air pressure dropped subtly, and wind picked up across the field. Within seconds, a ripple of cumulus clouds began forming right where he needed them—thick and heavy enough to reflect shape and shadow.
Then, he summoned Divine Dog.
He raised one hand, palm up, and called a concentrated beam of cursed energy—just bright enough to act like a spotlight—against the dog’s form. The dog stood, still and poised, between the light and the clouds.
A shadow cast upward.
A perfect silhouette of that stupid cloud they had argued about: dog, shoe, or maybe both. Round head, floppy ear, a thick sole-like back leg. Dumb, unmissable.
Megumi stared up at it, heart racing.
Come on, Yuuji. Please.
And then—just under the edge of the cloud—he saw it: a glint. Another anchor. Another object real Yuuji must’ve manifested through the bridge.
A J-pop keychain that Toudou must have gifted him. It was scratched up and missing its plastic ring, but it was real.
Megumi picked it up. Closed his eyes. And jumped.
They didn’t land in Megumi’s dream.
Or Yuuji’s.
They landed in a place that felt like nothing.
White. Endless. Cold, but not temperature-wise—emotionally cold. Like a waiting room that had never known warmth. A liminal space between dreams, between choices. Neither real nor fake.
Megumi sat up first, wincing. He studied Yuujii's face carefully and was relieved that his scars were back. This was the real Yuuji. HIS Yuuji. “You good?”
Yuuji groaned as he blinked around. “Yeah. Yeah, I think so. Where are we?”
Before Megumi could answer, the air shifted. A shape began to coalesce in front of them—like a person made of fog. No features, just a vague, shimmering outline. The curse.
It didn’t speak at first. It simply felt. It radiated longing and temptation like heat. A promise.
Then came the voice—soft, smooth, coaxing. “You’ve seen what I can offer you.”
Megumi tensed, stepping slightly in front of Yuuji without thinking. “We’re not interested.”
“You could be happy,” the curse said. “Both of you. No more pain. No more loss. Just the people you love, alive. Safe. Smiling. Forever.”
Yuuji stood too. His fists clenched. “Yeah, that’s the problem. It’s not real.”
The figure tilted its head. “Does it matter? Your minds made it real. You laughed. You cried. You held each other. Why leave that behind?”
“Because,” Megumi said sharply, “we’re not cowards.”
The curse paused. “Very well,” it said, voice cooling like ice over fire. “Then you choose suffering.”
“No,” Yuuji said. “We choose each other. In real time. In real pain.”
The curse let out a low, almost mournful hum.
And then it attacked.
The fog-like body condensed mid-air into something more solid, black and writhing—like ink frozen in time. Tendrils of curse energy slashed toward them, cracking the white void like glass under pressure.
Megumi reacted first, clapping his hands together. Shadows exploded beneath his feet.
“Rabbit Escape!” he barked.
A dozen black shikigami scattered in every direction, sprinting and zig-zagging, their tiny forms exploding into distracting bursts of cursed energy as the curse struck at them reflexively.
Yuuji didn’t hesitate—he bolted forward while the curse was distracted, fist cocked back, cursed energy glowing bright along his knuckles.
“Divergent Fist!” he shouted, and slammed it into the curse’s core.
The delay effect hit like a sledgehammer. The first hit staggered it. The second—just milliseconds behind—sent the creature skidding back across the formless white ground, leaving cracks of shadow in its wake.
“Nice,” Megumi muttered, landing beside Yuuji.
The curse rose again, limbs writhing and reforming. “You fight well... for ones who grieve so deeply.”
“Shut the hell up!” Yuuji barked, and launched again.
The curse reformed into something spindly and spider-like. It had arms now—long and jagged, made of distorted human faces and hands, like nightmares stitched together. One arm slammed into the ground, causing a ripple of energy to knock both sorcerers back.
Megumi rolled with it, skidding low. He bit his lip—no Mahoraga, no back-up. Just his mind. His technique.
He formed the hand seals mid-slide. “Max Elephant!”
The giant shikigami dropped from the sky with a crash like thunder, stomping one of the curse’s arms beneath its bulk. Water erupted from its trunk, splashing the fog with force enough to drown a lesser curse.
But this one didn’t drown. It screamed. Then split into two.
“Watch it!” Megumi called.
“Got it!”
Yuuji ducked under one of the new arms and leapt, aiming a flurry of rapid punches to its face. He ducked, pivoted, landed a knee to its gut—but it morphed mid-hit, flattening like mist and reforming behind him.
“Itadori—!”
The curse reached for Yuuji’s head—
“Itadori, go high—I’ll cover the base!”
“On it!”
Yuuji leapt again, bounding off the shoulders of the curse, flipping in midair, then dropping down like a meteor. “BLACK FLASH—!”
Time bent.
Cursed energy perfectly aligned with his physical hit.
The space ripped with the impact. The curse shrieked, limbs shattering under the pressure, its core buckling.
Megumi felt his blood surge. “Chimera Shadow Garden.”
The entire floor—if it could be called a floor—turned black. Shadows flooded outward, blooming like ink in water. The curse twisted and flailed, trapped now, slowed. Megumi could feel its shape writhing inside his domain, held just long enough.
Yuuji ran forward, grabbed Megumi’s wrist. “Together.”
Megumi looked at him—and nodded.
They ran as one, cursed energy flaring bright, and struck the curse’s heart—Yuuji’s fist and Megumi’s shadow blade at once.
There was no scream.
Only light.
Blinding. Shattering. Clean.
Megumi gasped and sat up.
Stone. Dirt. Flickering torchlight. The cursed cave. Reality.
Yuuji was beside him, panting, blinking hard. He looked around, then let out a whooping breath of relief.
“Holy shit, we made it.”
Megumi just let himself fall back to the floor, arms splayed out. “Yeah.”
A pause. Then Yuuji rolled over onto his side, grinning a little.
“The cloud thing,” he said, nudging Megumi’s shoulder. “That was really smart.”
Megumi shrugged, brushing off invisible dust. “I’m just glad it worked.”
Yuuji sat up again. The quiet between them settled like ash—soft, but lingering.
“I saw your dream,” Megumi said suddenly, voice quiet. “The one with everyone. You really did have a nice day.”
Yuuji paused.
He didn’t smile. He didn’t joke.
“I saw yours too,” he said quietly.
Megumi froze.
That farm. The kids. The house. His face flushed hot as shame and panic swept through him like a wave crashing against rock. He opened his mouth to deflect, to lie, to brush it off—
“I had no idea you felt that way,” Yuuji said, quietly.
Megumi froze. “I—it’s nothing. I don’t even know why my dream was like that,” he rushed out, the words tangling in his mouth. “It was random. Maybe I was just—tired. It didn’t mean anything.”
Yuuji raised an eyebrow, tilting his head. “So you don’t have feelings for me?” His voice was teasing, but his eyes searched Megumi’s face seriously.
Megumi’s heart skipped. “Wha—Why would you—?” he stammered, completely thrown.
Yuuji smiled a little, but it was tinged with something softer. “I wasn’t joking, you know. That time. When I said it’d be lonely without you.” His voice was quiet now. “Back when you were... well, when Sukuna had you. I meant it.”
Megumi's whole face was burning now. He looked away, down at his feet, like they were the most fascinating thing in the world. “Do you… Do you have feelings for me too?”
Yuuji paused. Then he nodded.
Megumi’s breath caught. It felt like the wind had been knocked out of him, but in a good way. Slowly, he looked up, their eyes meeting, and something soft settled between them.
And then—hesitantly, awkwardly—they leaned forward at the same time and kissed.
It was gentle. Brief. Neither of them knew what they were doing, really—just a warm press of lips, full of nervous energy and adrenaline and something hopeful underneath it all.
When they pulled back, Yuuji rubbed the back of his neck, cheeks pink. “I gotta admit though,” he said, voice light, “when I got into your dream and saw that I was the real one and you were the dream version… I was kinda surprised you skipped the dating part and jumped right to marriage.”
Megumi made a strangled sound. “It was just a dream,” he snapped, mortified, face blazing.
Yuuji laughed, then leaned in to kiss him again—just once, on the cheek this time.
“It was a nice dream, though. Megumi-san.”
Megumi groaned, turned an even deeper shade of red, but—he couldn’t help it—he smiled.
They left the cave in silence, side by side, the air cool and clean in their lungs after so long trapped in the suffocating haze of dreamworlds and curses. Every part of them ached—muscles sore, cursed energy drained, hearts still pounding—but somehow, it felt lighter now. Like they'd left something behind in there. Or maybe found something instead.
The train back to Tokyo rumbled steadily beneath them, rocking gently as dusk settled outside the windows. Megumi sat by the window, head tipped back against the glass, the scenery blurring past in streaks of orange and blue.
Yuuji shifted beside him, then leaned his head on Megumi’s shoulder without asking. He let out a long, content sigh.
“We’re dating now, by the way,” he murmured, eyes closed.
Megumi huffed a soft laugh, lips quirking. “Okay.”
Just that. Okay.
Yuuji smiled, and Megumi let his head rest gently against Yuuji’s, watching the sky grow darker.
The rhythmic clatter of the train tracks faded into the background, just noise, as Megumi sat still and steady, warmth pooling in his chest. He thought of the dream again—not with longing, but with clarity. It had been peaceful, sure. Easy. But it hadn’t been real.
Being here with Yuuji, in a world full of hardship and scars and things they couldn’t always fix—that was something he could never give up. Not for comfort. Not for fantasy. Not even for a life without pain.
Because this—sitting on a half-empty train, shoulder to shoulder, hearts still racing from what they’d survived—was real. And being here, with Yuuji, was better than any dream he could ever imagine.
He closed his eyes, knowing he was exactly where he was meant to be.