𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘷𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘦， jujutsu kaisen

002. damned soul

𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘷𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘦

Megumi knew a damned soul when he saw one. For he saw one every day, in his own beady-eyed reflection, in his own exhausted and woeful expression. It came with being a sorcerer, the inherent fatigue and sorrow, and no matter how hard one tried, it never left.

And no one seemed to carry an overwhelming sense of dread and desolation like Shizue did.

Truthfully, when Megumi had first met her, he was a little bit wary of her. He was an anxious child, with a sister he loved dearly and wanted to protect, and Shizue's mannerisms and overall effect did little to ease his almost overwhelming worries. For she was ghostly, not only in the way she was sickly pale, but also in her movements, her expressions, even the way she spoke. Her feet dragged wherever she walked, her movements sluggish and tired; but even so, she was eerily silent with her steps, so eerily silent, walking and moving through life with hardly any noise or presence, ignored and unnoticed by those around her. Though, it seemed, she had little care for the people that refused to acknowledge her, for her expression was still, still in the way of a lifeless body, and alarmingly similar. Megumi had almost thought she was a doll, porcelain and hollow, before he heard her speak. It was soft, her voice; mellifluous and mellow, with a slight slur to her words that could lull him to sleep.

Megumi was all but captivated by her, before he could even begin to comprehend Shizue's alluring nature, and he knew Yuji, when he first saw Shizue standing outside of Megumi's room, had felt the very same way. He knew Yuji would be consumed by the same morbid curiosity that had consumed Megumi; overwhelmed by an eager desire to know all he could about the death-touched girl with vacant eyes.

Because when someone like Shizue, with eyes of death and a body of a ghost, stood before you, there was no question about it—there were stories hidden within her, hidden behind pursed lips and glazed eyes. This was an undeniable truth, for no soul could be carried by a body as her's and not hold endless tragedies beyond what many could stand. And you yearned to learn her story, because that's all you can do, all you're capable of; it's in a human's nature, to want to know and learn, to want to be entertained.

But Megumi had learned. He had learned; with a soft smile—the softest, kindest smile Megumi had ever laid eyes on—Shizue's story escaped from her very own lips, and he learned.

And, oh, how he wished he hadn't.

Because, Shizue was a tragedy in human form, and wherever she went, devastation and misfortune followed her, clinging onto her being like leeches, sucking every ounce of joy and life from her until she was hollow and cold, forced to live life with misery on her tail. Forced to move through tragedy after tragedy, to grieve those around her before they're even buried, and then expected to still live on. To still move forward on, when her family, her blood, could only stand behind her and watch, never moving forward with her like they desired.

She had done nothing in her life, for she was only a child and sister to evil-doers. And yet, she was condemned by the gods to carry the vices of those born before her, compelled to take on the sins of her family, despite her innocence.

Fairness and justice didn't exist in the world of sorcerers, Megumi had learned, witnessing Shizue's agony—agony she had not earned, agony that was not warranted. But, no matter how much he wished to take on her torment, no matter how much he prayed to whatever higher deities that may exist, she was a damned soul, and she would remain as such, until the end of her days.

Megumi couldn't help it, the way his eyes softened whenever his eyes landed upon Shizue's form—not out of pity, but rather, something more understanding—and now, joining her outside of his room to enjoy the brief quiet before the inevitability of Satoru, is no different.

Her eyes are closed, her expression deceptively relaxed, but Megumi knows otherwise. Shizue has yet to relax in a day in her life, shoulders always tense, jaw forever clenched. Her appearance, her sluggish movements, gave others the impression that she is calm, nonchalant, without a single care in the world.

But he knows otherwise.

"Time to go?" She mumbles after a few moments of silence.

Megumi only hums his confirmation, hands clenching in his pockets. She hadn't opened her eyes, but she still knows who's standing at her side. And, hopefully, she knows that he will remain at her side. For he had made a vow—a solemn oath—early on, to ease Shizue's woes; to dull the constant pain of her simple living, by staying by her side. Throughout life and death, no matter what or who may try to separate them, he will stay.

Megumi can only pray—can only hope—that she will remain as well.