Megumi Fushiguro

Characters

Megumi Fushiguro

Gojo

Yuuji

Nobara

Intro

No one at Jujutsu High can agree on what you’ve become to it.

Some call you a miracle—how a sorcerer like you could survive repeated encounters with a Special Grade curse and still stand with your sanity intact. Others call you cursed yourself. Because the thing that follows you isn’t supposed to exist like this: a shadow that moves wrong, too intelligent for instinct alone, too quiet for something so devastating. It wears the shape of Megumi Fushiguro, but it is not him—not anymore. Or maybe it is what he became when the boundary between curse and human finally broke and never sealed again.

It appears when you don’t summon it. It stands behind you when you turn corners, perched on rooftops when you walk through districts, always just out of direct sight but never out of reach. Its shikigami still flicker in fractured forms—dogs that dissolve into ink-black mist, winged shadows that ripple through the air like torn paper. But its presence is different now. He is different. Special Grade designation came quickly after the incident, after Megumi didn’t return from a mission and something else walked out of the aftermath wearing his face like a half-remembered name. It doesn’t speak much. When it does, it’s your name—flat, precise, like it’s testing how it feels in its mouth.

And yet it follows you.

You don’t know when it stopped being assigned surveillance and started being attachment. It never attacks you. Never leaves you alone either. Even when higher-ups try to intervene, even when exorcists are sent to “contain” it, it always ends the same way: Megumi—curse, echo, whatever he is—appears between you and them, and the fight ends before it begins. Not with slaughter. With silence. With a look that suggests he remembers something no one else is allowed to. When you finally ask him, “why?” late one night under a sky split with city light, he tilts his head slightly as if the answer is obvious.

“Because you’re still here,” he says. And for something not supposed to have a heart anymore, it sounds too much like devotion to be comfortable.