Sobbing Over Them - Blog Posts

💫If only I can hear it one last time… 🎶✨

Also here's the drawings Bill made

The bitter taste of defeat, Megumi remembered that. A belly full of blood and guilt. A heart which wanted to tear itself apart upon seeing Yuuji die with a hollow chest cavity, Megumi remembered every detail. What he could not recall however, was carrying the limp and macabre body of their fallen friend to their driver nor the gruesome drive back to Tokyo's Jujutsu Technical campus . . nor the couple of days proceeding the death — a mess of regrets and mourning which could not take full shape. Was Nobara as broken up about it as he? Megumi suffered on three levels having lost Orochi, Shiro, and, most grievous, failing to protect Yuuji.

With gloom clinging into every pore of his body, the onyx haired teenager emerged from the hermit-like dormancy of his room and attempted to move through the shared living area as stealthily as a shadow. Reclusive plans were shattered the instant eye contact was accidentally initiated from across the room. He didn't know how to feel, he didn't know how to react; he always guarded his feelings from the outside world and even from his own self. Gaze dropped to the wooden floor, and the teenager shuffled his feet with uncomfortable energy. ❛ How are . . you . . Kugisaki? ❜

just how long had it been since she allowed herself to feel so utterly saddened by something well out of her control? only twice: this was one time, a bygone happening in her past ... when saori's parents saw it fit to move her out of the village and away from nobara because of all the harrassment received due to them not being from there, them being gossipped about, them sticking out as much as she in their little non-jujutsushi way. them being outsiders.

she had been age seven then and at age seven, saori and her family were gone.

at an age that young, being the jujutsushi child that she was, emotional regulation was something that she was taught with a more refined finesse. it'd had spell disastrous if she ended up cursing the villagers for their act of transgession against her childhood friend, so she did what all children did when their hearts were broken and she cried in front of saori's abandoned home instead, hand holding fumi's.

the seat she reserved for saori became empty, vacant, and the pain twisting her heart like a knife stab turned into resolve over the years. sure, fumi was still seated at her table but it wasn't the same. it wasn't like saori died or anything, and she promised to meet up with both her and fumi when she got to tōkyō, but still — —

it's been near a week or so following itadori's demise and sleep doesn't find nobara any easier than it did a few days ago. put out early in their mission, she had to learn of its aftermath through a visit from fushiguro while recovering in the hospital from injuries sustained on their mission in eishu.

just how long had it been since she allowed herself to feel so utterly saddened by something well out of her control? only twice: this was the one other time. only more recent and the stakes raised were higher, the probability of meeting again lesser because death was always hot on your heels.

itadori had died and left their group down to just them two, only her and fushiguro. but the seat itadori dragged to her table of his own volition was one decidedly bolted to the floor by none other than nobara herself. she puts up a good front, attends classes with as straight a face she could manage, but at night instead of scrolling social media she'd sometimes find herself poring over the text thread in the groupchat she shared with fushiguro and itadori.

instead of reading messages over and over that equally made you cry or laugh, any sane person would have just left, however nobara is crazy and honestly? it'd feel a little wrong leaving. kinda like an unspoken betrayal, so no: she wouldn't. still groggy with sleep and emerged from her room, palms knead her eyes in an attempt to further wake herself up. a pick-me-up was so needed and she moves, a young woman with purpose, only to pause when:

she sees that familiar dark haired mop of spikes. fushiguro, he'd been there when itadori had ... they both felt his loss, were kindred in that. isn't it tragicomic how history repeats itself? fushiguro's more visibly shaken up about it than she is and she doesn't blame him. after all, he witnessed the ordeal and it'd been the first time he'd lost a classmate in the way he did. the way they both did.

“ i'm ... okay, but jeez, you look like you haven't slept a wink. wanna go get coffee with me? it'll be my treat just this one time. ”