A/N: 10k words
Posted late with hardly any grammar checks. I'll just check embedded comments when I wake up which parts I need to fix.
The past 60 chapters are only called the prologue because it's before the main story of Arknights , if anybody is still confused. Can finally focus on the positive development of Megumi now that the prologue is done.
Expect some flashbacks that give context for what happened back in the countries Megumi visited, by focusing on the important details, they're usually written whenever I feel the motivation to write them.
Once again, it's best if you read this on Ao3 or Wattpad for better formatting and stuff.
An oppressive air lingered in the room filled with multiple bodies with pasts of their own. Whether they have done atrocious actions or worked to craft a better world with their hands, there was a distinct smell in the air that anybody with half a nose could smell—iron. There was a tinge of iron that wafted, providing toward one of their senses to take in and compute in their brain. Despite this, not a single soul pointed out such a scent despite what stories it may reveal, for all of them were guilty of possessing the pungent smell.
Tables uniformed in a circular curvature were all across the area, with each of them dressed in golden and red symbols of dragon patterns. There were so many in fact, that they spanned across the area with their journey. It was to the point where nobody could find themselves staring at anything new if they were to tear their gaze away. All there was, were just the dragons, ornamental, and purposeful—only in the eyes of the designers who placed them, of course.
For the many representatives of Lungmen except for a scant few, they held pride in such a rich display of tradition and wealth jam packed into one single display of provocative images. To the other representatives coming from lands far away and close by, they honestly could not care much to delve upon the matter or have their attention turned toward it. Either apathy to such presentations were ailing them, or haughty bias of their own artistry completely overpowered any appreciation that could be held toward the dragon patterns.
The people of Ursus sat with a cold demeanor, their elbows on the desk and fingers interlocked. Their gaze was fixated on a holographic screen displayed at the center front of the room, which also drew in everybody else's attention. After a long and heated debate about whoever's involvement, testimonies being thrown about, and everything in between—a single spoken piece from Lungmen had been the diffuser to the sparking tension that was ever growing.
Proof.
They could provide proof in the form of recorded footage that Higashi was not likely involved in whatever had occurred in Ursus. It was a coin flip, really, however they interpreted the footage as purely out of the hands of Wei Yenwu as he motioned for the recording to be displayed on screen. While doing so, his gaze darted discreetly across the room and met Islam Witte's own—one of the diplomatic speakers for Ursus—the two sharing just about the same sentiment.
If anything went wrong, a second Bloodpeak Campaign may occur, and neither of them wanted just a hassle to plague the world anymore. In fact, it was far more than a hassle, it would be a disaster surpassing the destruction that even Catastrophes could cause. The bloodied clash of modern armaments have always been far more concise in the slaughter it caused than natural disasters.
That was what made the idea so terrifying.
It didn't help that half of Ursus' other diplomatic speakers, mainly speaking for the aristocracy and as the aristocracy, sounded like they were attempting to light up a fuse and ignite problems for both themselves and whoever they wished to target in the aftermath of the explosion. A frustrating thing to put out, really. Especially if it had been lit up for far too long, presenting a grim prospect for what was to come, and even showing the state of the country.
With the Higashi diplomats having been rightfully confused about the entire situation and almost looking like floundering carp being pushed away by ocean waves, Wei Yenwu had decided to fully preside over the diplomatic meeting in their place after their multiple blunders. He would have expected them to be more knowledgeable on the matter, but that merely accentuated what he already knew of the situation.
"So, Chief Executive of Lungmen, the series of footage taken via the media and placed all across Lungmen's intranet is of "strange" and "unnatural" animals running amok and wreaking havoc?" Islam Witte said, taking the initiative so that the other diplomats representing the Ursus aristocracy wouldn't have the chance to make uneducated assumptions. "Indeed, they do bear a resemblance toward the serpent that had appeared in Chernobog's walls."
"That's exactly so," Wei Yenwu held his pipe steady while speaking, "by all means—if Higashi were attempting to to incite war with Ursus by sending one of their Shinto beasts to provoke on of their countries and target their military channels, why would they also attempt to incite Lungmen? The dots don't connect."
"A valid point to be made," Islam nodded with an agreeing tone, but kept it measured so nothing would be wrongfully assumed by the Ursus nobles, "Yan and Higashi have shared good relations with one another—it would not make sense for beasts to also be sent out in Lungmen."
"Yes, thank you," a Higashinese woman from one of her seats spoke up with a long winded sigh. The stress that came with being constantly questioned about the country's involvement in the eight-headed serpent when they had nothing to do with it had been... absolutely frustrating. "Somebody from Ursus with a working brain..." she made sure the last part could not be heard when she mumbled to herself in the lowest tone possible.
It was then somebody else spoke up, "Witte, I believe you're overlooking a fact in these claims."
All heads turned toward him.
"Viscount Kerque," Islam Witte interlocked his fingers together and resisted heaving a long sigh just as the Higashinese had done before, "what is it that you wish to speak of this time?" His tone was almost passive-aggressive, but he held enough self control in order not
"The motives are the same," Viscount Kerque continued, "terror. Both the beasts invoked terror to the masses by their sheer presence alone. For the "Shadow Tiger" as it has been named, it had caused minimal amounts of property damage before the rest of the story became diluted through rumors. All other recordings after it hadn't been able to catch it, other than the fact that it was apparently on the back of the Chimera Bird during the incident."
"What are you suggesting?" Wei Yenwu raised an eyebrow.
"What else? That they match each other to an uncanny degree." Kerque spread his arms out as if it were the most obvious thing ever, "the Chimera Bird flies in the air and makes its presence known, and the eight-headed serpent lingers in the sky to make its presence known, two colossal figures. This is a clear pattern between the two, and I assume it must be from a summoner's doing, the scale doesn't matter at this moment." He took in a short breath before continuing, "what else could it be other than a cover-up from Higashi? Might I even add that Lungmen and Yan could be under suspicion for their involvement with this facet of information, too?"
"Now, what are you—" a Higashinese representative was about to open his mouth to retort, but was stopped when Wei Yenwu cut to the chase.
"If that were the case, then you are suggesting Lungmen's recorded incidents were all staged," the Chief Executive of Lungmen stated.
"Of course, hardly any property damage, and all they've done was linger in the sky or their whereabouts become a mystery for all of those inauspicious beasts in those recordings you've shown." Kerque kept adding more fuel to the fire, making the other representatives on the side of Ursus start mumbling amongst themselves.
Islam Witte continued rapping his fingers against each other while closing his eyes. The matter rested on Wei Yenwu right now, whether they could subvert a disaster in the making or not.
"A faulty line of reasoning," the Lung's voice cut through the room like a trained blade, severing all conversations and mumblings between the people residing. Truly, Viscount Kerque's suggestion had been the most ridiculous he had ever seen.
"Can you disprove this, Chief Executive of Lungmen?" Kerque lifted his palm facing upwards in the motion toward Wei, as if telling him to "go ahead."
"I do," the words came out clear and concisely, "Lin Yushia." He motioned for the pink-haired Zalak seated not too far away from him, "play that video on the hologram." A few more chatters were heard from the audience as Wei continued onwards to take another dose of his pipe in silence. His expression... looked as if he were lecturing a bunch of children.
Lin heeded his commands and brought a wireless device while standing up, and pointed it toward the deactivated hologram at the center of the room. All it took was a single click and the piece of technology did its work. Once she came to sit back down as the holographic screen played, she gave a discreet glance to her left to stare at a peculiar person who had attended the diplomatic meeting.
Ch'en Hui-chieh.
She hadn't spoken a word, even if it looked like she really wished to. From what Lin understood, maybe it was because she didn't wish to interrupt her uncle and cause a disaster as a result. For whatever reason, Wei Yenwu had excluded the name of "Fushiguro Megumi" ever since he had stepped foot in the room. Or maybe it was the deadpan stare the Chief Executive had given Ch'en when she "invited" herself into the meeting.
Overall, it was almost problematic.
Viscount Kerque raised an eyebrow, but kept silent to see what would unfold. If he could poke holes at what occurred in the video, then it would be perfect to incite both Lungmen and Higashi, and bring upon a great reason to unite the people of Ursus under one banner to face a "greater" threat and return their country back to its glory days. Where their flag fluttered high in the sky under the watchful gaze of the sun, which would guide the nation every move once more.
The video played.
The first sights that immediately caught everybody's eyes was the pale beast that stood at a great height, and its macabre visage which seemed dressed with nothing but scorn. When it clenched its fist, a blade crudely attached to its wrist sprung out.
Whenever it struck, entire skyscrapers would fall beneath its strikes.
Whenever it screamed, the shockwave would shatter glass for as far as the eye could see.
Whenever it moved, every single step left itself as nothing but an afterimage that the recording could barely keep track of.
In fact, the recording was taken from drones that were supposed to be utilized for support, but every single one of them had been torn apart through stray debris or from the shockwaves produced from the monstrous being.
Every single step, every single movement—it carried weight with it. An indescribable power that drew the eyes of all the diplomats present in the room, and put themselves at the edge of the seat.
That was until it lifted a skyscraper with casual ease, defying the laws of gravity as it swung it like a bat.
Now that was the most baffling scene of them all.
"As you can see," Wei's voice rumbled across the room once again, not as a blade this time, but as a blunt hammer, "the destruction spread across Lungmen due to one of these beasts that bear a resemblance to all others is nothing to scoff at." He didn't wish to show this video as it revealed the weakened state of the city after such a disastrous event, but it was much better than causing problems that could be argued to be far worse.
"Did you see that—?"
"Lifting a skyscraper—!"
"That's not how that's supposed to work—"
"Where did it come from—?"
Voices continued to become louder as both the Higashinese and Ursine diplomats turned to people of their own respective parties and discussed the absurd scene they had witnessed. Not a single condolence was given to Lungmen.
Viscount Kerque stood there as the room started to divert to a different topic, but the fact still remained that he had been disproven. Heavily so. He could feel the gaze of Islam Witte turn toward him for the briefest of moments, which only served to irritate him, 'the lapdog of that incompetent emperor, huh?' His anger started to reach a boiling point, but he made sure not to let it show.
He had been disproved, and he couldn't take control of the crowd now that they've seen such a staggering piece of footage. Even for himself, Kerque could only lament that Ursus did not possess a soldier or weapon that could lift skyscrapers and toss it around as if it were a bat. Not only that, but the pale beast seemed to possess some sort of supersonic regeneration that negated any damage it had taken.
Truly, what a lamentable day.
For Ch'en, she continued to stare across the room with a frown. The more she thought of the video, the more she found it strange how her uncle hadn't included those black cloaked men and even secretly blackened them out from scenes that should have had them in view. It just... didn't bode well with her. Neither did the fact that the name of Fushiguro Megumi had never once been mentioned, or the fact that they had been summoned by an individual was never brought up by Wei Yenwu.
With the chatters reaching its loudest today, all the Head Superintendent of the L.G.D. could do was clench her fist from under her desk. Ch'en had only spoken a few of her lines before she had been cut off by Wei Yenwu, in the guise of him further elaborating on what she had to say whenever she came to a short pause.
It was as if... he didn't wish for her to speak on the matter.
It never bode well with her.
Two years later...
Megumi awoke in a dark room. His body touched the ground which he had decided to rest on. Not even a tinge of discomfort overcame him as he slept without a blanket or a mattress to let his body rest on.
There was a soft light which came from the window to the side, but it hadn't reached him. There wasn't much which his eyes looked toward, it just went wherever he decided to haphazardly turn it.
A yawn left his lips, as the black-haired man sat upwards. His body didn't feel dirty, but it would be better to shower and change outfits than keep himself in his current state.
He lethargically moved across the vast room and made it to the bathroom. Turning on the lights and stepping in, he glanced at the mirror first thing.
Megumi saw his face.
He didn't like it, it looked like he was a rotten man who would prey on women's skirts.
So, a small application of Reverse Cursed Technique, and his strange appearance would be gone with.
Turning toward the shower and taking steps toward it, he took off his clothes, entered it, and then turned the water on.
It was a cold shower, but it didn't bother him.
The dim lights of the crackling ceiling mixed in with the drops of water as he let it move across his body.
His eyes continued to keep them fixated from wherever his pivoted body was looking at. The empty wall, as white as the material landscape of his dreams, showing itself as a boundless and bare substance which he could find no purpose in. A sense of kinship he found himself when staring at it, but devolving himself to a useless object made for mindless viewing was never a good idea.
He turned downwards.
A scar was crossed from his right shoulder to the left side of his hip.
His lips thinned, as he turned back upwards.
Perhaps it was better to look at the wall.
Tired.
He was really tired.
That was the only thing he felt even when stepping out of the shower.
Chernobog.
He would have never expected to find himself back at this city with what he had done, especially since it was also a part of Ursus. However, due to the fact that it was a heavily populated urban city, and the other fact that the Jujutsu Sorcerer had stopped caring ages ago, his stay in such a place hadn't bothered him at all. It was somewhat of a hilarious idea, but the fact that he was in his worst enemy's territory when he could have been anywhere else was something that hadn't escaped him.
Thankfully, he had a method of keeping himself secret, which could only be seen through by an Emperor's Blade or an extremely competent person. The former knew him better than anybody else, and most likely had kept his identity under wraps—a closely guarded secret. So unless they revealed themselves in the city or knew that he was somehow in their own confines, especially with their rather limited numbers, then he could rest easy despite being in a place such as this.
Megumi continued to walk with a soft gait across the streets. A black shadow obscured his figure and turned his form into a blur of scribbled monotone colors, leaving him unseeable to the citizens walking by. After persistent training in regards to using it in everyday life and while he sat alone in his abandoned apartment, it had become as natural as breathing for him. Routing Reverse Cursed Technique to his brain also helped to make sure his brain didn't fry, that was the only difficult part. Maintaining the application of cloaking himself was honestly much easier than he thought.
Maybe it was because he utilized close to zero Cursed Energy. Although it was a mundane technique that didn't do well against higher level opponents, it still served its use for what the Jujutsu Sorcerer wished to use it for anyways. To make sure he wasn't spotted by the crowd of listless 9-to-5 workers whomightknow who he was. Although there were no wanted posters of his face anywhere on the intranet or through newspapers, it was still better to be safe than sorry. Also... he just didn't feel like being close to these people.
It wasn't healthy, but he had been viewing them as aliens. For Fushiguro Megumi, living in a completely different world was much more difficult than he imagined. With all the expectations and relentless training routines he had written down in his mental notebook, he didn't have much time on the clock to interact with the residents of the world. More accurately, to connect to them. Only when he had finished his journey all across Terra did he truly realize this piece, with how... utterly selfish he had been.
Then again, Megumi didn't feel guilty now. Perhaps back then, he did, but everything just felt... it was hard to describe, really. He felt clearer, especially afterthatday he couldn't forget.
A small ache happened across his chest, making him stop in his steps. His hands smoothly moved up to palm his chest as he stepped to the side to make sure he wouldn't bump into the tidal wave of human bodies moving without rest. Once he did, the chatter of the outside world became a deaf stream of tinnitus to him while Megumi took in a few deep breaths in order to let the phantom pain subside.
It was like a specter that clung to him. A selfish act of his that he had wholly indulged to see the world by himself, with no voice by his side. The pain was at its worst at the beginning, and it didn't help that his Cursed Energy Reserves had taken a huge hit during that time—not letting him completely heal the wound.
When he pulled at the collar of his shirt and glanced down, he saw it. The jagged gash that went across his chest had become nothing but a tale in his memories, but it still burned itself against his chest, leaving a mark which served as a stark reminder to him. To not lose his humanity, to not fall lower than what he had become back then, and to not let the influence of an accursed ghost such as Ryomen Sukuna continue to cling to his soul.
'Sorry Laurentina,'he apologized to the Aegir for the millionth time since then,'this is better for the both of us.'
Ah, really.
He felt all the burdens lift from his shoulders once he could truly say he wasn't dragging anybody down. If she kept staying with him, then she would become labelled as an enemy of a nation, not just himself, and neither would she be able to serve the purpose that she wanted to.
Perhaps, that strange connection he had with her would make the departure much more bearable for her. The last part of the battle was hard to recall for him, but deep down, Fushiguro Megumi could tell that it had been euphoric for the two. No thoughts were needed, and only a stare into each of their eyes was the only thing that was needed. An understanding. That was it. How beautiful it was.
.
.
.
.
.
'...Ha~ what am I thinking?'
Megumi turned away from the scar and walked back into the stream of people walking through, mixing in perfectly with them after.
There was no need to lie to himself.
The one time he had taken a truly selfish action, he had regretted it, in spite of the relief and clarity it had brought him after.
At the very least, the discomfort he felt from it had calmed down from the raging storm it was before.
He just hoped it was the same for Laurentina.
Two years. It should have been enough.
But the fact remained that he could have handled the situation better.
It was best if he got the day over with quickly.
Megumi approached a large multi-story building that looked like it had seen better days. It was an abandoned apartment structure which had been in the worst state of disrepair he had seen when arriving. By dumping a large portion of his time working on this dumpster of a place, while also in secret, he was able to make it somewhere suitable to live in. Staying in any rented places would be too risky, as his paranoia would dictate for himself.
His somewhat sunken eyes took in the still rotten exterior, but knew that everything would look a thousand times better when taking a step inside. As he continued to make his way through the door, he felt a familiar presence close by the entrance. When his steps halted in order to register who they were, his eyes slightly widened when he sawherblue hair.
"Mostima?" Megumi called out with his mouth almost agape, but he was able to keep it hinged as he bore a perplexed expression.
A woman who stood by the apartment's door with two staves hung over her back and rested at her hips turned toward him. She bore blue hair as he remembered, and had black crystalline horns atop her head, and a hood pulled over to cover it. She also possessed a dim halo and a devil's tail at the back.
Mostima responded, "hey, been a while?" She asked with a small wave. Her casual expression was always something that the black-haired man found off-putting, but he kept it to himself as he was already used to her demeanor.
"Did the Pope send you?" Megumi asked.
"Yup, wanted to check out on your condition with what happened back in Laterano," Mostima replied without a moment's breath.
"...Why is he so interested in me?" He asked, remembering what he had done in Laterano.
"Beats me," she replied, "I was just sent here to make sure you're doing alright. That was the deal you had with him, correct?"
"That's correct..." The Jujutsu Sorcerer let out a small grunt of affirmation. "If you want to keep talking about this matter," he glanced around to make sure that nobody was close by—even if his other senses were already telling him that—"then let's take it inside."
"Agreed," Mostima nodded and stepped to the side, "been quite a bit, hasn't it?" She watched as Megumi made his way to the entrance.
"It has," a few unpleasant memories came back to him in regards to Laterano, but he let them go.
The two made their ways up the creaking staircases composed of metal that had endured its entire length of fulfilling its purpose. With each step, they continued to ascend further in silence, before the host had found his room, placed his hands on the knob, and turned it open. In front of him, was his place of stay presented in all of its...
...Unglory.
"Wow, this place is... sort of a dump," Mostima stared at the interior and spoke as nicely as she could, watching as there was nothing in the room aside from a bathroom and a living room, "don't you even have a mattress to sleep on?" She walked to the door leading to the bathroom. Surprisingly, it looked squeaky clean.
"I clean the apartment," Megumi replied neutrally, not even feeling offended, "I'm confident it's cleaner than most."
"Itdoeslook cleaner than most," she let out a sound of agreement while still looking around, "but really—get something more lively. There's not even a couch or a TV." The woman then stood at the center of the room and spread her arms out, as if taking in its vast emptiness.
"Maybe. I'll consider it," Megumi would not.
"How long have you been living like this?"
"A few months or so."
"How miserable," Mostima looked at him weirdly.
"At least I keep myself hygienic," Megumi didn't like her stare.
"Alright," Mostima shrugged, "can't argue with that, huh? If you like living with... er, eccentricity, then I'm not one to judge." She joked.
The black-haired man let her leave her words at that, before changing the subject, "what do you think of Chernobog?"
"Not much. Just like any other city. You?" Mostima had been to the city a few times to deliver things for MARTHE, so she was familiar with it.
"I guess I could say the same. Though, comparatively, it's more awful compared to some better places I've been to." Megumi compared his time back in Laterano, Leithanien, and even Lungmen to Ursus. Suffice to say, the treatment of the Infected was much worse than any other place, and he was already knowledgeable of what happened in the north, barring what happens in the confines of cities such as Chernobog.
"You're all doom and gloom," Mostima pointed out, "though, I guess it has alleviated ever since that day." She still remembered the unnatural feeling he gave off back in Laterano, as if vengeful spirits were clinging onto his skin and further accentuating the rage that seemed to be etched deeper underneath.
"That's the past."
"Mhm."
The both of them stopped talking as they arrived a brief respite from whatever was happening in the world. For the Jujutsu Sorcerer close by the window, he reminisced of the many journeys and paths he had undertaken back in the past. Floundering around like a fish, watching as his scales peeled and regrew into something different—something incomprehensibly different—and then all the troubles that came with it. But... that was how it was supposed to be, right? The past. There was nothing that should ail him from events long since passed. Too bad that it was easier said than done.
For Mostima, she had already scanned practically every aspect of the room. From the very thin layer of dust that only appeared at the corners of the room to the... consistent boringness of its interior design, she believed to have grasped the black-haired man's situation much better. Here she thought he would be a harder person to understand. Really, anybody walking around like they were carrying a tornado full of turmoils wouldn't betoohard to understand in terms of what was happening with them, it was just that understandingwhythey were in such a state was the hardest part.
"Can I ask you a strange question?" He suddenly spoke up.
"Hm?" Mostima turned to look at him, "uh... well, fire away." She wondered how strange it would be. Better than doing nothing.
"I was brought into this world without my own say in the matter," Megumi said. "Would you say that's unfortunate?"
"...You could say the same for everybody else?" Mostima countered nonchalantly. It wasn't that weird, "well, practically everybody doesn't have a say in the matter. Quite unfortunate, but I guess that's just how things are."
"Just how things are, huh?" He placed his hands in his pockets while staring out the window. All he found himself gazing at was the alleyway hidden behind, "I guess a positive upbringing won't have anybody dissatisfied with their life, if they're brought into one." Unfortunately, he wasn't somebody who could experience such a thing when arriving in Terra.
"Brought into a life from birth or brought into a life as in an occupation?" Mostima humored him with a question, "you never specified which one."
"Anything," Megumi responded.
"Anything?" The blue-haired woman was slightly amused.
"Yes, the term "life" is very broad," Megumi thinned his lips while thinking back to his many experiences, "being born could be considered life. How you live could be considered a life, the definition encompasses a lot of aspects." A positive upbringing into them also counted.
"Well, since we're talking about lives now," Mostima continued to walk around the room, seemingly finding the interior to be a curious sight, "I can't say much about my own. If that's what you've been looking for."
"Just wanted an opinion," Megumi glanced down at his palm, "you're a Fallen Sankta, after all."
"Touchy subject for some, you know?" She raised an eyebrow toward his direction while continuing with her pace.
"I know that," Megumi clenched his palm into a soft fist, before letting it disperse and fall back to his side, "it doesn't really matter if I get a response from you." He'll find an answer to his gripes on his own, eventually. No matter how long it would take.
"Eh, whatever," Mostima shrugged while walking up to him, "it doesn't really matter much to me anyways. I guess it just happened, and I moved on from it."
"...I see," Megumi nodded slowly.
"It's pretty obvious that you don't really enjoy your life," the Fallen Sankta walked to his side while taking her own opportunity to see what he had found so interesting, "really, who lives in a dingy apartment like this? You have the funds, you bought all those things back in Laterano without a care of how much you were spending."
"Guess my living conditions weren't subtle at all," Megumi dryly responded. "But—that part—how did you remember that?" It had been a year or more since he had arrived in Laterano and... well, the results were not pretty to say the least.
"Touchy subject for yourself?" It was the same message as one of her previous lines, this time directed at the black-haired man, and more teasingly.
"Not anymore," Megumi honestly said, "I guess I just don't like how Terra is."
"Ever looked at the positives?"
"Hard to do that with all the other negatives."
It really was hard to look at the positives when this world seemed to be crafted delicately by a hand that wished to maximize suffering for its inhabitants. The amount of racism and discrimination he had seen from its residents was... appalling. He had taken his previous world completely for granted, and that realization only served to make his experience here so much more agonizing and slow.
"Really? Well, I guess different experiences and expectations for us," Mostima hummed, "can't say I really understand you well, so I can't give you any solid advice. Sorry," she didn't sound sorry at all.
He loved his home, but he didn't love Terra. That was his problem, and Fushiguro Megumi had become well aware of such a fact. How he could find anything to "love" or enjoy in this world was... thin. Friends? Goodness, it felt like he was talking to an alien every time he faced somebody and had a conversation with them. Neither did it help that his history in Terra wasn't particularly a model somebody should follow, lest they wished to find themselves withsomethingrelentlessly on their trail.
Mostima continued again while Megumi was lost in his thoughts, "but really—I'm starting to think you put that all on yourself."
"Hm?" He turned toward the blue-haired woman, watching as her tail listlessly swung a few times in the air, "what do you mean by putting that all on myself?"
"Your troubles, that seems like something that's messing with you," she elaborated.
"I can't deny that." It was as plain as day, so he really couldn't.
"And where do these troubles stem from? Yourself, you keep getting into all these situations that screw you one way or another. I'm starting to think you're a danger magnet," Mostima crossed her arms while leaning against the wall, eyes trailing elsewhere to busy herself. "What did you do today? I'm curious."
"...I killed a crime boss in Chernobog."
Mostima let out an amused huff, turning toward him with an all-knowing look in her eyes, "couldn't help it?"
"He was a scumbag."
"That's fair, I guess," Mostima decided to let the matter go, "but this is what I'm talking about. You always get yourself into trouble, and here I thought you just dropped the bag when it came to Laterano."
"Don't remind me..."
Mostima reminded him, "Fiammetta... she really, really wants to put a bullet up your butt." Aside from Federico, Lemuen, and some other people, that Liberi was the only person that she knew who held malice against the black-haired man. Even if it were... let's say, complicated for the aforementioned woman? If anything, it was humorous for the Fallen Sankta.
"I already knew that by the time I left, but she's still stuck on that...?" Megumi could feel his lips turning downwards into a frown.
"She takes things very personally, especially with what you did. Can't really blame her, honestly, you sounded like such a villain when you communicated back with her." Mostima noted.
"...Is she here with you?" The Jujutsu Sorcerer tried.
"Would you believe me if I said no?" The Fallen Sankta asked.
"Not at all." He felt his frown deepening.
"Well, at least clear some things up with her," Mostima suggested.
"Not when she shoves a gun down my throat." He remembered that time, much to his chagrin.
"Can't deny that," she gave up rather quickly in regards to convincing him, "did you know? Fiammetta asked for me to drag you out so she could confront you."
"...So that's what the suggestion was for in regards to "clearing up" things?"
"My bad," she glanced away with a faux guilty expression, "I guess I could just tell her I tried. Don't worry, I'm not going to rat out your location to her. Unless, of course, you'd want me to do that."
"No way," Megumi did not want to deal with a viciously enraged bird. Especially not one that had access to a firearm.
"Oh—and before I go," Mostima was just about to stop leaning against the wall and head off, but she snapped her fingers as if she remembered something. "Lemuen wanted to apologize for nearly blasting your head off with her sniper, she didn't know you were the one who healed her." She reached into her jacket and surprisingly... pulled out a bouquet of flowers. "To make things up, you know?"
"It's fine," Megumi really didn't care about something like that, even a 50. Cal bullet back at home couldn't damage a half-assed Jujutsu Sorcerer, "things happen. I won't blame her for something she feels guilty about." His thoughts were brought back to the cold look in the pink-haired woman's eyes—who despite sitting on a wheelchair and had recently come back from her coma thanks to RCT—looked far more threatening than both Fiammetta and Mostima combined.
At least things had been cleared up, so he took the bouquet of flowers—an apology gift—without much of a hitch.
The Fallen Sankta gave one last message before leaving, "right. The Pope hopes to see you come back to Laterano on better terms, he's already told everybody else to leave your firearm alone. So you can rest well, he's an easygoing guy after all."
"...I'll keep that in mind."
Strangely enough, when confronted by the Pope, it was as if he understood his situation far better than anybody else. It was just... so strange? How should he put this? That he had been stared straight through under the gaze of the old sage? Yes, that was an accurate reflection on the experience he had back then. Still, he wasn't complaining.
"I'll see you next time then, Mostima," Megumi waved her off, "if you even want to do your job of watching over me sporadically."
"I don't mind," Mostima's voice faded away as she left by the door. "Oh! If you don't want any trouble, then may be don't get involved with the underworld, yeah?"
With an audible click that reverberated off of the white walls of the apartment, signalling that she had fully left.
Megumi let out a sigh.
Stop getting involved in the underworld?
When there were bad people scrounging around without any guillotine over their heads?
No.
He couldn't.
To be more accurate, he wouldn't.
At least, he enjoyed this. Deep within, he did.
A small twisted smile crept up on his lips as he remembered reading the news.
'Lower crime rate, huh? If I keep up at this place, they'll be kept in their place,' Megumi reiterated the fact in his brain while clenching his fist. Even if it was impossible to truly get rid of horrendous crimes from being committed by the underworld, at least he was able to do something—unlike Jujutsu Society where almost nothing mattered.
A hobby.
That was what he had been lacking ever since entering this world other than training and running after an unreachable goal.
Bad people... good people...
He couldn't award the latter, but he could definitely punish the former, until he found the purpose he had been told to seek long ago.
'Find my place.'
He needed to find that first. Instead of setting goals for what level of strength he would need to find, he would need to set a goal for finding a purpose.
That had found the lock, now all he had to do was find the key.
There was a room filled with the dampness of smoke, a desk at the center, and two chairs at opposite sides. A few pictures were strewn across the walls, significantly embroidered with linings of gold and silver, while the drywall looked to be decorated with some sort of shiny brown wooden sheen.
"So, Mikhail, you have a guy that can cure my Oripathy?" An Ursus man tapped his finger impatiently on his desk with an ashtray by his desk. He sat at the front with a stern gaze, and wore a formal black suit that was in the style of Ursus.
"Yes, I do," the other man said, "you can trust my word on that, Alexander." Mikhail was the same race as the other man, while also being dressed in similar attire. The only difference was that it possessed less extravagant patterns.
"That's ridiculous, curing Oripathy? Do you know how absurd you sound right now?" Alexander felt the sudden urge to grab another cigarette and smoke it, but reined himself in, "the disease that's been incurable since time started—can be cured?"
"Yes."
"Riciulous, just plain ridiculous," Alexander repeated himself while sighing, "come on. Who fooled you, I thought you grew out of this mess."
"I'm not lying," the other man crossed his arms with a huff, "I saw what I saw, and the results have already proven so."
"Excuse me?" Alexander wished not to bolster his hopes on his developing Oripathy, something that he had kept hidden since he had contracted it, and only to a few trusted people could he reveal the information. "Mikhail, I trust you, I really do. But... just where the hell is this information coming from?"
"I was treated," Mikhail said, before reaching his hands to the briefcase by his side, "I could show you the results. Just take a look," his hand moved to the locks of the item after picking it up and placing it on his lap. With a few inputs of code on the antique password system, it clicked open without any resistance, and on its own. "I have in here the files of my BOCD, both from last year and now." He tossed a piece of white paper on the desk, while Alexander pressed down on it to stop its momentum, and flipped it around to take a look at it, "you already know that they're not at normal levels—but to the point where I haven't gotten Oripathy yet. Or any problems, to be more precise."
"...Yes, yes, I already know that, just as you said." Alexander scrunched his brows, memories from back then flooding back to him when they had a private doctor take a look at their conditions, hired through unsavory means. After all, they needed somebody who could keep quiet, "and... the next one will be today's results? The most recent one...?" He made a prediction.
Mikhail smiled, "have a look," he tossed another one on the desk, the paper possessing less momentum than the previous one. "These are from yesterday when I got checked up at the doctor, amazing, isn't it?" His tone became more expectant, as if it were a golden piece of information he was revealing,because it was.
"I... what?" Alexander couldn't believe his eyes as he switched his gaze between the two papers, "this is fromourprivate doctor, right? He didn't get bribed to pull anything against us?" A sense of paranoia overcame him, the same one that had kept him alive and running in the underworld alive for so long.
A race that he would see to its completion, as the one at first place.
"Not at all, the person who gave me the cure... or applied the cure most likely doesn't even know who he is. Our doctor is off on the other side of Chernobog, after all. Seems too elaborate for it to be a fully planned trick, because I checked up with a second doctor too." Mikhail picked up a third piece of paper, and threw it on the desk too.
"A second doctor?" The other Ursus man received it with continuously widening eyes. This time, he leaned forward and placed a hand over his mouth while planting his shoulder against the desk—to keep his head propped up.
"I'm not Infected, not even before I got the "cure" that stranger gave me, so it won't be a problem if some other person knows my previous BOCD," Mikhail shrugged. "Anyways, it all but confirms it. Whatever miracle Arts he used worked, and unless he somehow bribed every single doctor in Chernobog, then I don't see how this stuff can be falsified."
"Arts...?" Alexander's voice drew out in disbelief, "a damn miracle alright. They weren't lying in those schools when they said it could come in all different forms." His gaze turned back to the papers, as if expecting the numbers to change at any moment.
"But curing Oripathy is definitely still an outlier," Mikhail added, "we could use him. As a tool, just dangle a prize in front of him, and we could get something real useful for ourselves." A suggestion was given at the end, while he leaned back on his chair.
"Nobody else knows, right?" Alexander asked.
"None." Mikhail confirmed.
"Good, keep it low," he nodded satisfactorily, "just give him a reason to work for us, I'm willing to pay a fortune for him. Hey... actually, why did he even cure you in the first place? Just felt like it?" He needed to clear up a piece of anxiety that had been clinging on himself like a parasite.
"I dressed well—just like you always told me to—and he walked up straight to me looking to make some money." Mikhail spread his arms and showed his suit with a larger smile.
'But to reveal a gold mine of an Arts ability like that...?'Alexander scrunched his brows, his palm continued to press over his mouth, and tapped his index finger against his cheek.' Maybe he was that desperate for money? Yeah, that seems like it.'He pushed away the anxiety felt in his chest as he opened his mouth to talk, "alright, where is he?" Infected... becoming an Infected even in the criminal underworld left a big impact. Most people would start seeing him as weak and vulnerable to attacks due to Oripathy, and he couldn't have something like that happening. That wasn't even including the shortened lifespan he was on borrowed time with.
Besides, what could possibly go wrong?
Everything went wrong.
It was all too sudden, especially when Mikhail already said he had invited the person who could "cure" him into where they would be meeting up. Obviously, it was at a hidden spot and they brought some guards with them just in case, but...
"Really, why are you looking so shocked? Haven't you done worse than this?"
Alexander looked upwards at the pile of mangled bodies, with some black-haired sea urchin maniac sitting on top of them.
"This brings me back to junior high, ever went there? Oh who am I kidding, you probably grew up as a dreg in the slums. You seem stupid enough to fall for that cure bait that I haphazardly made... so it speaks for itself. "
Whatever words he was spouting didn't reach his ears. Right now, the Ursus man was searching in his mind for any opportunities to make it out alive. His men no longer mattered, as even Mikhail of all people—despite his immense luck—had joined the pile in front of him. If the bastard in front of him kept running his mouth, then...
"I don't get it. Is it your upbringing that you decide to act this way? Or do you just want to gain something out of it?"
He continued to ignore the frustrated ramblings of the monster, before he saw an open door on the other side of the room. It was open, that meant if he could distract the man in front of him, perhaps by throwing a dagger at him and then booking it with his Arts activated, then—
"Either way, I won't turn you into a Cursed Spirit, and I hope you find a better life when you reincarnate. If that exists."
—He would live!
...If he wasn't seeing the lower half of his body right now.
The man sitting on the pile watched as Alexander split in two, before letting out a frustrated sigh, "this will come to bite me back later..."
Well, at least he re-lived his junior high days.
What a strange feeling.
AAA
Megumi stared at his phone. When connected to the intranet of Chernobog, then he could find all the rumors and information he needed of what had happened recently. Whether it be lowered or rising crime rates, or news channels on the lastest occurrences, then he could always check his phone to see the results.
He sat on top of a lone building while scrolling through anything he could find. The little crime ring that he had found and cleared out was encountered just as any other—act like some unsuspecting fish out of water in the slums and hope he just so happens to run into somebody who had a connection to them. It was a risk and honestly a shot in the dark, but spotting at the corner of his somebody who looked like they were powerful for the first time in those areas already sent alarm bells ringing in his head.
The rest was perfect. Fooling them wasn't part of the earlier plan, but he really wanted to instill a false sense of security in those people. Human trafficking and selling drugs to children, he remembered those headlines when scrolling through the news. Megumi couldn't allow anything like that to happen, so a small piece of action wasn't too much of a bother.
Especially since... he had nothing else to do.
He set his phone to the side while staring at the afternoon sky.
Plans, he needed a plan. He had already explored a majority of Terra, and he had already developed himself to a point where he was somewhat satisfied. Two years spent clearing his mind after all of the chaos he had caused in other countries and reigning in Ryomen Sukuna's influence had shownsomeof its results...
...But it felt like something was missing. That was because something was missing, he just hadn't been able to put his finger quite on what it was yet. Awareness of it was also already present, a goal.
Did Gojo Satoru have a goal? Of course he did. To raise a younger generation to surpass him and change Jujutsu Society as a whole. The more he had grown up and thought about the other man's dream, the more the black-haired man had started to appreciate it. For somebody as immensely powerful as himself, Gojo hadn't been one to become a tyrant, dictator, or somebody who stooped as low as Ryomen Sukuna when it came to moral views. An objective was present in the white-haired man's life, and it had brought him a long way.
That was what Megumi would like to believe.
As it stood, he had only been pursuing strength without a clear understanding of what he had wished to do with it. Protect himself? That was already a guarantee that came with it... but everything else, the meals he would enjoy with his friends, and the many other hobbies that he could indulge himself in weren't there.
Even if he could imagine Itadori Yuji or Kugisaki Nobara sitting beside him, he had already decided that they were just fleeting memories in his mind at this point. Megumi would cherish and treasure everything that he had in his previous world close to his heart—even if he had become a Clown of Fate—and move on.
'A goal.'
He whispered the concept in his mind, before his head lazily turned to his left. There was a vast city in front of him, and the bustling liveliness that evoked a sense of unrest inside of him never did strike a chord in his heart. However, when he turned his head to the right to gaze at the decrepit lands from where his perimetral apartment was, the Jujutsu Sorcerer's eyes were laid upon a scene which truly did send a chilling feeling throughout his body.
The slums. He lived close to it.
'Oripathy, Infected, and suffering.'
That was all he could call off the top of his head when gazing at the scene and understanding the concept of the slums. He had only experienced living in poverty for a short while in Lungmen, and overall bad living conditions for the time that came after it. However, he had clarity in his own strength and potential that he would be able to break those chains off of his body and achieve a future which hadn't held himself down.
'I want... to do something.'
...So when pushing himself up back on both of his legs, he did.
"—BREAKING NEWS: A SIX-EYED DEER ROAMING THE SLUMS WHICH HAS BEEN CURING ORIPATHY? FACT? OR FAKE?"
Megumi stared at his phone with deadpan eyes while sitting at the center of his apartment room. There were many questions that sprung up in his head, such as how during the first week of keeping his actions as discreet as possible and keeping Round Deer cloaked while he followed it in his shadows—along with dispelling it if any cameras were close by—hadn't worked.
'What am I thinking? Of course it wouldn't work in keeping it a secret,'Megumi thinned his lips as he continued to watch the news channel,'No... they even have a recording of it, but how?! I would have expected word of mouth, but...'He felt a shiver go up his spine as he shook his head. Although this might have put a wrench in his plans, it didn't mean that his overall goal had become impeded.
'How can I... cure Oripathy without painting a disastrous political marker on my back?'Megumi closed his eyes and placed his hands over his face. He remembered it, the bright smiles of the children that had a future he didn't, and an enjoyment of life that he could never achieve with where he was at.'Round Deer already does the job for me if I dissociate it with me, but what if the people of Ursus associate it with the eight-headed serpent instead?'Even if the subject of Totality had become less relevant as the calendar continued to be checked off, it still existed.
Conspiracy theorists and connections could still be made and blown out of proportion. There was also the fact that stricter military discipline could be instilled if the government sees the appearance of Round Deer to bear a connection to Yamata-no-Orochi. If that was so, then he would need to hide himself better and pray that he wouldn't run into anybody who could see through his disguise.
Still though, the footage of Round Deer was in terrible quality, it looked to be more falsified than truthful. The only people that they interviewed would probably not hold much credibility in the eyes of skeptics, so that much came as a relief to Megumi. He needed to moderate his actions more.
If only he could develop some sort of cure that would be easily distributed, that he could teach to other people, and that he could do without making himself the focal point for attention. Too bad Megumi was no doctor, and neither did he hold any experience in creating vaccines, cures, or even handling the medical business. His future life was practically destined to be one of a Jujutsu Sorcerer.
'I'm thinking a lot on this matter, but not enough.'At the very least, the idea was interesting enough for him to entertain. Not only that, but there was also a sense of satisfaction that came from it, even if it was small,'there's that underground Azazel Clinic I've been visiting recently, but it's only limited to a few people. Even then, I can't fully cure the patients if I don't want myself to be found out...'
Speaking of the Azazel Clinic... he still needed to pay it a visit. That seemed like a good plan to reorganize his thoughts on the entire matter, and hopefully come to a conclusion on what he should do next.
"Hellagur," Megumi raised his hand for a wave toward the Hippogryph in front of him, and gave him a respectful bow.
"Please, there's no need to be so formal," Hellagur waved his hand in the air, "I should be thanking you. Your actions have helped Azazel Clinic to an insurmountable degree, I believe that is enough cause worthy of praise yourself."
"...Oh, thank you," Megumi exited his bow, and coughed into his fist to get the feeling of embarrassment away. "It's just that I was taught to be respectful to the elderly," it had become a habit—but not a bad habit in his opinion.
"Ah, a common teaching in Higashi, I presume?" Hellagur asked, but he already knew.
"Yes," Megumi turned around after to stare at the rest of the hospital's interior, "how many Infected do we have today?"
"Three."
"Three?" Megumi blinked a few times to get the bout of confusion that overcame him, "that little?" Even if his tone kept itself measured, the disbelief that came out couldn't be hidden.
"Thank you," Hellagur gave a soft smile while placing a hand on the black-haired man's shoulder. "The people you've helped with your Arts
...It was a strange feeling. He had only encountered the underground clinic for the Infected and saw the state that the people—mainly children—were in when he had first roamed Chernobog aimlessly upon his arrival. Just staring at their decrepit state, people who could have had a future ahead of themselves while the unruly who resort to crime continued to live their life unabashedly, had always left him with a bitter taste in his mouth.
So, for this old man who cared for the Infected children, men, women, and the elderly, he just couldn't help but offer himself as a volunteer helper. He hadn't asked for any money for his actions, and when he applied the designated treatment to the patients, Megumi would let a small flow of Positive Energy in order to alleviate the symptoms of Oripathy. It was still a secret that he wished to keep, but staring at the old man in front of him...
"...You already know?" Megumi asked.
"It is revolutionary, and it would have many heads of the insatiable in their greed turn toward you." In response to his question, Hellagur gave him a grave nod, "but all that matters to me is that the children can walk on two legs and see another day for themselves. Without the threat of Oripathy eating at their everyday life, so, thank you once more; Fushiguro Megumi. I will take this secret with me to the grave."
Megumi could only stare at his stern eyes with a newfound appreciation. For a moment, it felt like the pits of his Innate Domain had been lit up with a different light, when staring at the aged eyes filled with... compassion. "The children, how old are most of them?" He had never found out what specific age most of them were when he had attended to them, but the energy they gave off despite being Infected reminded him of the other kids back in elementary.
"Eight to twelve, around there," Hellagur closed his eyes and said, as if it were a practiced piece of information that had been instilled deep within the crevices of his own mind.
"That young," Megumi honestly wasn't surprised, "how cruel." He had wanted to fully cure them, to get rid of their Oripathy, but... fear overtook him whenever he started cycling Reverse Cursed Technique, that the secret would come out and that he would need to be on the run once again. His veil around himself be damned, if any competent fighter were to walk the streets of Ursus and spot him, while also being aware of his involvement with killing two Emperor's Blades, then his secure life would be doomedagain.
"Yet you are the ones to bring them out of such cruelty. Please, live as you wish to, and if this is your desire—then this old man can only look upon it with appreciation. The younger generation has a chance to flourish because of you." Hellagur gave Megumi one more pat on the shoulder before letting his hand go.
The black-haired man nodded slowly, "the younger generation..." he remembered a certain white-haired man "...hah~sorry, I just remembered somebody," a long and awkward pause had occurred with a lapse of his mind, so he apologized.
"There's no need to be sorry," Hellagur let out a hum of affirmation, "just keep doing as you are, Megumi. It is ablessingto have you here."
Megumi blinked a few times, "ah... right, you're well versed in Higashi culture," he let out an uncharacteristic chuckle, but with how stoically he usually presented himself as—it might have come out as weird.
"There's no need to be embarrassed," Hellagur gave the black-haired man a reassuring smile, "your name fits you well—a blessing indeed."
Megumi could feel a small smile making itself on his lips.
He didn't know how Gojo Satoru felt when saving children's youth.
Hell, even Megumi owed it to him for saving his and his sister's youth.
But this feeling, if that was what he felt, then maybe...
...Healing wasn't such a bad option.
Was this his life now?
Megumi stared at the small futon that he had bought himself, or rather, a mattress that best resembled a futon. He turned his gaze away from it as he stared out of the window of the discreet apartment that he was staying in in order to stare off into the night sky of Chernobog. The Kaiserinnenfest, Laterano, Columbia, and hell... even Siracusa, he remembered visiting all those places in the past two years.
Although some of them held memories that he didn't wish to bring out from the pits of hellfire, it was incomparable in experience to all the struggles he had to endure in Ursus and the vengeful curse he brought upon Kazimierz. Though, the same could not be said for Columbia and Siracusa, seeing how a certainexperimentin the former country had nearly made him snap completely.
'Tch, I should have brought the entirety of Rhine Lab down,'a stray thought came to him as he continued to stare at the twinkling stars up above the blackened heights of the sky, but let it completely vanish.'No, what's done is done, Saria wouldn't want me to do that, and I wouldn't want to set a bad example for Ifrit... and Olivia...'Megumi could feel his lips further thinning.'Muelsyse? I don't know anymore.'
He still had to thank Saria for turning all the attention to her and keeping Round Deer's Reverse Cursed Technique a secret. Whenever they met again... he didn't know where she had gone off to when they parted ways. The disillusioned look in her eyes was a weighty experience to bear, like the world around her had changed for the worst.
Aside from that, there was nothing else that needed to be said about Siracusa. He merely went there to "even the score" he had with them. Nothing more, nothing less. Megumi was confident his identity during that time would be obscured or kept a secret with the measures he had taken to keep his face hidden away.
The sounds of the city had vanished. No longer were they tainting his ears with the mass produced sound of thumping and screeching tires, and no longer could he hear their incessant sounds when closing his eyes and letting the cold wind of the outside caress his face. In solitude, he felt peace, where he needn't struggle to climb up an daunting mountain or feel as if he was lacking in anything. A simple life was something he had struggled strenuously to achieve, and even then, he wasn't satisfied with it.
The goal was missing.
Although...'not now. I have a goal.'He remembered the faces of the children as the Oripathy crystals faded from their skin, and the amazed look on the people he had treated as the path toward a better future had been opened for them. No matter how much he attempted to keep himself as an unfeeling stone statue, Fushiguro Megumi had to admit that he adored looking at it.
With a sober mind, and a goal in hand...
...Perhaps, maybe, he could find his place in this world, just as Patriot had said.
Two years.
How lovely it had been, to alleviate himself from the pain that he felt—even if it was superficial at some points.
Megumi found himself sleeping soundly that night, with not a single cloud obscuring the skies of Chernobog.
It was a fast day, but he wouldn't have it any other way.
A/N: Hopefully the change isn't too jarring, but we've entered a two year time-skip where he visited the Kaiserinnenfest, Columbia, Laterano, and Siracusa. Even then, he's still not in the best state of mind in the end—just that he's changed for the better by a decent amount.
I wanted to write those countries, but 630k words is already stretching the prologue hella thin. Better get on with the main story and leave the three other countries and the Kaiserinnenfest to be mentioned in dialogue or put in brief flashbacks.