In his dreams, Megumi is always carrying a body. It’s not always the same body. Sometimes it’s his mother. Sometimes his sister. Sometimes Gojo, although that was before he knew losing him didn’t necessarily mean he would have a body to carry.
These days, it’s mostly Itadori. Since he met him, actually. In his dreams, Megumi carries Itadori’s body up a hill. One arm under his knees, one under his armpits. Careful in his steps not to move his head, which rests heavily on Megumi’s chest.
Sometimes he has a gap on his chest, an ugly thing with bloody edges. Sometimes the faded markings of Sukuna are still on his face. Sometimes he looks at peace, as if he just fell asleep in Megumi's arms.
Every time, Megumi fails. The body gets impossibly heavy, or Megumi feels impossibly weak. Either way, he falls to his knees before reaching the top of the hill every time, apologizes to an unresponsive Itadori in a hushed whisper. And wakes up. And does it again.
Because Megumi always picks Itadori up, always knows how fruitless it will be and does it anyway. He can’t bear to see his body lying broken and so lonely, gets overcome with this unexplainable certainty that maybe the top of the hill will be a better place to rest. Even if it kills him too. Sometimes, Megumi hopes it will.
That night, though, Megumi has a different dream. When he falls asleep and finds himself in the product of his unconscious mind, he is weightless. The night before his life changes, Fushiguro Megumi dreams he is nothing but a body. He sees himself being carried, sees it from above as if he’s not the dreamer or the subject of the dream, just a passing spectator.
In this dream, Itadori carries Megumi’s body. He makes it to the top of the hill, because he’s Itadori Yuji and there is nothing he can’t do when he puts his mind to it. And when Megumi has a chance to see his own face, he’s barely surprised at the markings on it. Sukuna’s brand, stark against his skin.
Itadori cries for a little while, and Megumi’s heart hurts for this, and for this only. Not for the body. Not for himself, or whatever he became. It’s the first dream he can remember where he made it to the top of the hill.
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