Archive of Our Own ^beta

This would be the perfect setting for a horror movie, Yuuji decided as he drove into town. From the dilapidated buildings to the way the locals stared at him as he traversed Main Street, it was purely unsettling. The weather was perfect too, gray and misty, the last leaves barely clinging to scraggly trees. It was the kind of place his friend Nobara would call the armpit of the nation, but Yuuji found it beautiful in its own way.

The crown jewel, though, and the reason he was here in the first place, sat at the top of the hill, glaring down on the rest of the town. Black Dog Manor. The building was an imposing presence, and lived up to its name, jet black against the sky, jagged and fierce-looking, the topmost parts of the roof obscured by mist. Just looking at it sent a chill down Yuuji’s spine, not one of fear, but one of excitement. 

Since starting his ghost-hunting channel on YouTube, Yuuji had been to his fair share of haunted spots. Graveyards, churches, hospitals, prisons…but houses were always his favorite. Even if he never got any decent footage, they always felt so intensely personal, like a window into the past that he could reach through and touch the souls of the departed to comfort them.

In Yuuji’s humble, inexperienced opinion, most spirits were just lonely, tied to the physical world by something that was missing in their past. There wasn’t much more to it. Even the ghost that haunted Black Dog Manor, who was rumored to be terrifying and violent, was probably lonely. Maybe Yuuji was foolish for thinking it, but some part of him truly believed that if he could reach out to this ghost, he could ease its suffering just a bit, perhaps calming its restless spirit. 

And if he ended up getting possessed or killed, well, he’d just tell Nobara to upload the footage anyway, and he could posthumously go viral.

Yuuji parked his car in the local university’s parking lot. The university was just as small and worn down as the rest of the town, a mere three buildings built of shabby gray stone. That should make it easy to pick up a helper for his adventure. College kids were always looking for an extra buck, and all they needed to do was carry his camera while he wandered around inside a spooky old building for an hour or two. Easy money.

When he pushed open the door to the dining hall, he was met with the same unsettling stares as he’d seen in town. Either strangers weren’t that common around here, or they all knew what he was here for. Maybe a mix of both.

There was no need for him to feel uncomfortable. These kids were all around his age. Act cool, act cool…

“Alright,” he said, trying to make it seem like he wasn’t put off at all by their incessant staring, “anyone wanna make a few dollars and do me a favor?”

The handful of students exchanged glances before looking back at him.

“What’s the favor?” one of them asked skeptically.

“Well, I’m a YouTuber, and I’m shooting a video nearby, so if one of you wanted to just carry my camera for a few hours, get some footage…”

The student frowned.

“Where are you shooting?”

Yuuji scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. 

“Black Dog Manor.”

Most of the students shook their heads, carefully avoiding Yuuji’s eyes. Fair enough. They’d probably heard more stories about the house than Yuuji had. Some of them might even have had first-hand experience with the allegedly terrifying spirit who haunted the grounds.

“Junpei, you like weird stuff like that,” one of the students said. “You go.”

“I like horror movies ,” another, supposedly Junpei, yelped, “not real life horror.”

“I’ll pay you $50 an hour,” Yuuji said desperately.

It was more than he reasonably could offer, but he needed someone to do the job.

Junpei sighed.

“Fine, I’ll do it,” he replied, “but if I die, I’m blaming you, um-?”

“Yuuji Itadori.”

“Yuuji Itadori, if you like ghosts so much, then I’ll be a wicked pain in your ass. I’m a bit of a scaredy cat.”

Yuuji shrugged.

“Just hold the camera still, don’t scream into the mic, and everything will be fine.”

_

“So what do you know about Black Dog Manor?” Yuuji asked, picking over his soggy french fries.

Junpei’s food looked much better. This town seemed to have a serious problem with outsiders, and it didn’t help that Yuuji’s pink hair and bright yellow sweatshirt made him stick out like a sore thumb among all the gray and brown in the landscape. 

Junpei shrugged, sipping on the soda Yuuji had bought for him. 

“It’s the kind of place most people only go on a dare,” he said. “No matter how skeptical you are, everyone in this town believes that there’s some kind of evil presence lurking in that house. From the outside, it looks creepy, but otherwise, unassuming. But once you step inside…I’ve heard it’s like stepping into a tornado. Things flying about and breaking, sounds coming from all sides of the room, that kind of thing. Some people claim to have heard voices screaming, either for them to leave, or just screaming in general. Other people say they’ve felt something touch them or push them. That’s all I know.”

Yuuji nodded slowly, taking a moment to process it all.

“Has anyone ever heard anything while not in the house?”

Junpei shook his head.

“If no one’s inside, it’s completely quiet. It’s really weird.”

So the ghost inside only reacts when disturbed…

“And what about its backstory? Anything you know about that.”

Yuuji was half-tempted to pick a fry from Junpei’s plate just to see if it really was because he was an outsider that he got shitty food, or if Junpei’s was just as shitty.

“It’s been abandoned for a while,” Junpei explained, “maybe for about a hundred years or so? Before that, there was a family that lived there, allegedly. I heard the dad murdered the mom, so the two kids were alone for a while. And then I’ve heard rumors that the brother went insane and killed the sister. They say he was possessed by the Devil. I don’t really know if any of that’s true, though. It’s all just word of mouth really.”

Yuuji frowned. To him, it all just sounded like a typical scary story passed between the mouths of kids, older siblings trying to scare their younger siblings, that type of thing. It sounded too far-fetched to be real. Of course, there was a possibility, but really…

“Anyway, I really would reconsider going there if I were you,” Junpei continued. “Some people have gotten seriously injured from going to that house. I mean, the spirit there is really violent. I’ve heard there was someone that died there once.”

Yuuji grinned good-naturedly.

“I’m not that worried,” he replied. “I’m like some kind of ghost whisperer.”

He wiggled his fingers like a kid telling a scary story at a campfire. Junpei looked skeptical.

“If you’re sure…y’know I’m only doing this because you’re paying so well.”

“I know, I know,” Yuuji sighed. “Look, if you get injured, I’ll up your hourly rate. But it’ll be fine. I’m sure it’ll be fun. Ghosts aren’t as scary as most people think, even the aggressive ones.”

-

Yuuji said good night to Junpei after setting up a meeting time for tomorrow morning, wandering back to his car. He’d booked a room in the upstairs of the pub, but before he settled in for the night, there was one more thing he wanted to do. 

It was his own weird tradition. He always brought someone with him to help him with the filming, but before that, he liked to stop by the site on his own. Usually, he left some kind of offering too, his way of paying his respects to the dead before he inevitably exploited them for views, and hopefully opening up the door for some kind of communication.

Okay, he didn’t actually get that many views. And he actually enjoyed doing this, with or without the camera. And he actually had respect for the dead and the places he visited, unlike a lot of other ghost-hunting YouTubers, who laughed their way through every sight they visited. Yuuji wasn’t like that. But the sentiment stood.

He parked the car at the base of the hill, having decided a while ago not to drive up. Not just because his car was old and might not make it, but also because he didn’t want to disturb the silence. It felt wrong, invasive even.

By the time he reached the top, he was already breathless, but what breath he did have was taken by his awe at such a beautiful sight. The house was prettier than he imagined, delicately carved, with a cracked stone fountain that must have been stunning in its prime, and a grand gate that had been nearly destroyed over the years in people’s attempts to access the abandoned property. It was heartbreaking to see such a beautiful property in disrepair like this. 

Yuuji narrowed his eyes, trying to read the faded plaque with the family’s name on it. Fushiguro .

As soon as he crossed onto the property, he felt a prickling on his neck like he was being watched. Compared to other locations, Yuuji could tell that this place definitely was haunted. But to Yuuji, the presence he was sensing didn’t seem evil, like everyone said, just sad, almost oppressively so.

He pressed onward, taking a few more steps onto the property and following the stone pathway that had long been covered with grass and moss. The view from here was beautiful. Yuuji wondered if the ghost sat up here and watched the sun rise and set over the hills every day, an eternity of beautiful skies, or if it got boring as time passed. 

Yuuji glanced back up at the house. For a moment, he thought he saw something flicker in the window, but maybe it was just his overactive imagination. Still, he felt like something was watching him, curious, not malicious. In all likelihood, the stories were just stories. Yuuji took a deep breath and walked up to the house.

The air was stale with anticipation as he pushed open the door.

Yuuji waited.

Nothing happened. There were no flying objects, no screams, no hands pulling at him. Just silence and a looming presence.

“Um…hi,” he said into the darkness of the entrance hall. “I’m Yuuji. Sorry to bother you, but…this is kinda lame when I think about it, but I wanted to bring you something.” 

He knelt on the ground and placed the token on the ground, a mere package of chips from the gas station, nothing special.

“I planned to pick up something better once I got here,” he continued, “but this town doesn’t have much going on. Not sure what it was like when you were around but…yeah. This will have to do.”

Yuuji had been in the house for a full two minutes with no signs of activity other than the feeling that he wasn’t alone, but as he straightened back up, he felt a warm breeze brush by him, a gentle, barely noticeable caress along his side. He frowned slightly. Nothing about this house felt evil. What was it that made everyone say that it was?

“Well, I’ll leave you for now,” he said. “Thank you for having me.”

He left through the front door, closing it carefully behind him. He made his way down the path, glancing back over his shoulder before he crossed through the gate. The door was open, despite the fact that he distinctly remembered closing it. The house almost looked as if it was trying to welcome him back in. Something about it made his chest constrict.

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” he promised.

As he walked back down the hill, the wind rustling through the trees almost sounded like soft cries.

Megumi wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do with this. No one had ever given him a gift before, at least not since Tsumiki died. He frowned at the odd parcel on the ground. He’d never seen anything like it before. The wrapping was shiny, but the texture was weirdly slippery. It wasn’t paper and it wasn’t fabric…he had no idea what it was.

He frowned at the label. Shrimp Chips. It was almost laughable, bringing a dead person something edible when their use for eating had long passed. If it weren’t for the guy’s earnestly kind demeanor, he would have thought it was some cruel joke.

Yuuji. His name was Yuuji.

Megumi was embarrassed to find himself so attached to him after only a few minutes, but every so often, he found himself closing his eyes trying to reimagine his face, or letting his name roll around in his mouth like a song he couldn’t stop singing. Yuuji, Yuuji, Yuuji…

This wasn’t like him. It wasn’t like him to let someone stand in his house uninterrupted, it wasn’t like him to follow them outside and hope they’d stay for just a bit longer to soothe the ache in his heart, it wasn’t like him to cry as they walked away because for once in over a hundred years, Megumi didn’t feel quite so alone.

Then again, he wasn’t like Megumi’s average visitor either. Yuuji didn’t come with holy water or a cross to send him back to where he came from (he was born in the bedroom upstairs). He didn’t come with a can of paint with some kind of spray tip to vandalize his house. He didn’t come with a bad attitude or an intent to provoke Megumi. He just came with his stupidly cute gift. 

Cute. The gift was cute. Yuuji was cute, too. Megumi was dead, but he had eyes. Yuuji had the kind of looks that probably had girls falling all over themselves, and their parents too. He seemed like the type of guy he would have urged Tsumiki to date back in the day, only to realize it was him who wanted Yuuji. Tsumiki would tease him for his stupid crush, even though he tried his best to hide that sort of thing from her, from everyone , as he ran down to meet Yuuji on the way to university while she waited-

And now Megumi had gone and made himself sad again, like he always did. He wasn’t like this when he was alive, always bottling things up and hiding them away deep in his stupid chest that ached and ached and ached. It was because of that that he didn’t know how to move on and Tsumiki did, and now he was cursed to loiter in this world all because he was too scared to tell Tsumiki he loved her, too scared to be the brother he should have been. He was a brat and he was distant, and now he was so consumed by guilt that it was eating him alive– or dead, as it may be. He was guilty and alone, and it was all he could do not to spiral into insanity, trapped in this house with nothing but his own thoughts to entertain him every day. Then again, everyone here already thought he was insane, or something along those lines. 

When Tsumiki first got sick, he thought it was just a cold that she would get over quickly, and she would be joining him on his trips into town again in the next few days. She never did. Instead, she grew sicker and sicker, until she was bedridden and Megumi was missing university to look after her.

It didn’t help. Tsumiki passed a few weeks later. Her funeral was well attended, despite not having any living family aside from Megumi. People loved Tsumiki. She was sweet and kind and everything good about this world, everything that Megumi wasn’t. When she died, she sucked the warmth from Megumi’s world, leaving him cold and utterly alone.

He got sick just after her funeral, the same symptoms setting in quickly, only there was no one left to look after him. He spent his last days in agony, alone, wasting away in his bed. He only hoped that his presence had been enough to soothe Tsumiki in her final moments, and that she didn’t have to suffer in the same way he did.

No one came looking for him for weeks after he’d passed. By the time they did, the stench in the room was so thick and the anger in Megumi’s stomach was so rotten that he’d had a fit when some people came in to check on him, throwing things around and screaming in anguish. It wasn’t his proudest moment.

He knew he wasn’t quite palatable, but did they have to leave him to rot for over a month?

It was his own fault that the rumors started. Megumi Fushiguro died because he was possessed by the Devil. That’s probably why Tsumiki died too, he dragged her down to Hell with him . It was stupid because Megumi wasn’t even the type to believe in that sort of thing and everyone knew it, at least at one point. He didn’t even believe in ghosts until he became one himself. He was a bit eccentric in his preference for science over spirituality, and that probably didn’t help the rumors that he’d turned his back on God. 

Over the years, his name was forgotten, and so was Tsumiki’s. To everyone who wandered into his house, he was just a boy who’d gone insane after being possessed by the Devil and heartlessly murdered his older sister, the older sister who’d taken care of him after their mom died and their dad abandoned them.

Well, Megumi didn’t mind living up to their expectations, he supposed. If they wanted him to be the Devil, he could be the Devil. It wasn’t hard. He was angry enough as it was that he was trapped here alone in this wretched house, and he was angry that people were always knocking on his door, bothering him even after he’d long departed. 

Yuuji seemed different. His presence was different, soft and gentle where others were rough and invasive. If he really was coming back tomorrow, then Megumi would look forward to it. 

-

As it turned out, Megumi shouldn’t have looked forward to Yuuji’s return. He wasn’t just a nice guy who wanted a poor, lonely spirit like Megumi to feel some comfort. He was another one of those annoying people with their weird equipment meant to draw out Megumi and make a spectacle of him.

He showed up a bit past noon with one of the local guys in tow, the one with the greasy hair that Megumi had chased off last fall after he came on a dare. The kid had nearly wet himself. Megumi was surprised to see him back. He thought he did a pretty good job scaring him off, not that it was a hard task to begin with.

When he spotted the equipment in Yuuji’s hands, he couldn’t stop the anger from boiling over before they even entered the house, causing the house to shake and settle into the foundation a bit more. Over the past century, Megumi had done a good job of honing his energy, training it to obey every fluctuation in emotion, expanding it beyond what his human physicality was capable of.

He took pride in the way the greasy-haired kid stiffened, stopping right before the gate.

“I thought you said you came last night,” Megumi heard him say. “You said you went in and it seemed fine.”

Megumi knew he was invisible, but he still felt like Yuuji was staring into his soul, straight up and into the same window Megumi was watching him from, blinking his eyes like he was so innocent, like he wasn’t trying to lure Megumi out for his own entertainment. And Megumi hated him for it, hated the way his eyes resembled a puppy’s, all wide and curious.

“It did seem fine,” Yuuji replied. “I don’t know what changed.”

You’re a liar , Megumi thought, that’s what changed .

“C’mon,” Yuuji continued, heading through the gate, seemingly unafraid. “Let’s go. Remember, I said I’d pay you more if something happened.”

Paying ? What was this, some kind of sick joke? No problem. Megumi would be waiting for them the moment they opened the door, like the good host Tsumiki raised him to be. 

The door swung open and Megumi waited, letting the anticipation build before he unleashed his rage on the two intruders. Yuuji stepped through first, shivering slightly.

“It’s definitely a different vibe in here now,” he murmured. “The presence I felt last night was pretty gentle, actually. I was a bit surprised.”

He crouched on the floor, noticing the bag of chips he’d left last night.

“Not a fan of the shrimp chips, huh?”

Megumi rolled his eyes. Of course not. He couldn’t even eat them. What had seemed last night like it could have been a kind gesture now seemed like a slap in the face. Megumi floated over so as to not let the floorboards creak and ruin the surprise. If he stomped on the package, he should be able to just-

Pop! Yuuji flinched as the bag exploded in front of his face.

“I see…”

He looked up, and it was Megumi’s turn to flinch. Yuuji couldn’t see him, and yet he sensed him, staring straight at him. It was starting to freak Megumi out, the way Yuuji could locate him so easily. He needed him out of his house. Now.

“Junpei, it’s fine to come in,” Yuuji called over his shoulder. “There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

Megumi would give them both something to be afraid of.

Junpei, the greasy kid, came in carrying something Megumi had come to know as a camera, with a long fluffy thing hanging off of it. He looked around tentatively.

“I heard a noise.”

Yuuji shrugged.

“Nothing to be scared of,” he replied, “but the spirit is in this room.”

Junpei didn’t seem fond of that idea. Megumi smirked to himself, floating by and letting his hand graze the kid’s arm. He jolted away in fear.

“I swear , something just touched me.”

Yuuji hummed in response.

“Interesting.”

Junpei rolled his eyes.

“Can you please take this seriously?”

“I am.”

Yuuji took out his first piece of equipment, and if Megumi’s stagnant blood was boiling before, it was steaming now. It was something he’d heard referred to as a spirit box. Not only was it a complete farce, but it made the most annoying sound Megumi had ever heard in his life, second only to the pastors that came here with their chants and holy water in an effort to cleanse this house of its non-existent demon.

Megumi was done playing around. It was time for him to get serious and get these idiots out of his house. 

He let his feet touch the ground behind Junpei, walking up behind him, careful to hit the creakiest floorboards on his way. He leaned in close to Junpei’s ear.

“Boo!”

Junpei screamed, jumping into the air.

“Seriously, Itadori, how long do we have to stay here?”

“$75 an hour.”

Junpei seemed reluctant, but he didn’t move towards the door. Megumi sighed and ran past him, slamming his entire weight into one of the bookcases in the hall and sending it crashing to the floor. Junpei whimpered, but Yuuji just reached into his bag, pulling out two more pieces of equipment that Megumi didn’t recognize.

“You got that, right?”

“Uh-huh.”

Concentrating his anger, Megumi slammed all of the doors in the house shut simultaneously. Yuuji held out one of the pieces of equipment in his direction. How did he know where Megumi was? Megumi grabbed the equipment and yanked it roughly from Yuuji’s hands, throwing it against the wall. It broke on impact, falling to the floor.

Yuuji’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, but Megumi didn’t stop there. He grabbed the second piece of equipment and smashed that two.

“Sorry, Itadori!” Junpei yelped, dropping the camera. “I’m leaving!”

Megumi wasn’t content with that. He grabbed the hood of Junpei’s sweatshirt and dragged him towards the front door. He kicked the door open and threw Junpei out onto the grass, slamming the door back closed behind him. He didn’t need to stick around to know that greasy-haired wretch was running back home like the coward he was.

Yuuji was frozen in the middle of the entrance hall, looking more upset that his equipment was gone than scared. If Megumi cared enough, he’d stop and let him leave now, but he didn’t care. He just wanted to be left alone. Was that too much to ask?

Megumi was quick to make work of his camera, throwing it against the wall repeatedly until it broke into pieces. Then, he snatched the stupid spirit box from Yuuji and broke that, finally cutting off that awful piercing sound. For good measure, he picked up some of the books that had fallen when he tipped over the bookcase and threw them in Yuuji’s general direction. He was careful not to hit him, for what reason, he didn’t know.

His rampage came to an end as his anger burnt out, staring at an unmoving Yuuji Itadori kneeling on his floor. He was different, but maybe not in the way Megumi thought.

Yuuji was a bit confused, or maybe a lot confused. When he’d stopped by last night, the spirit that lived in this house seemed to welcome him openly. Today, he’d been met with an entirely different energy, something more pointedly aggressive than he’d ever encountered before. And to top it all off, it had destroyed all of his equipment, effectively ending his career as a ghost hunter. It wasn’t like his channel was making enough money for him to buy all new equipment. If he wasn’t so thrown off, he might have been more sad, but that was all he could feel– confusion.

Was it all just a trick to get him to come back? To scare him more? But Yuuji wasn’t scared, he was just hurt, and maybe a bit betrayed.

Yuuji was jolted from his thoughts by a pair of hands dragging him to his feet, shoving him aggressively towards the door. Wind whipped against his face, screaming his ears, and Yuuji could just barely make out the words.

“I thought you were different! I thought you were nice! But I’m not a toy for your amusement!”

Yuuji’s heart twisted. This poor spirit. They must be so tired of being used as parts of dares or challenges, Halloween pranks, those kinds of things. No wonder they’d reacted to his arrival today so violently. To them, Yuuji seemed like another one of the masses of people using the spirit for their own entertainment.

“I’m sorry,” he yelped, struggling against the hands shoving him away. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you or invade your space. I’m sorry.”

And just like that, the screaming stopped and the hands released him. Yuuji fell to the floor, keeping his eyes trained downward.

“Your name is Fushiguro, right?”

Yuuji didn’t know why he expected a response, because one never came, but he could feel the presence, though, hovering right in front of him. Yuuji looked up, hoping he could maybe catch part of a glimpse like he was pretty sure he had last night. Nothing.

“You only like to talk when you’re angry, I guess.”

The spirit didn’t respond, but stayed put, right in front of Yuuji, as if it was waiting for Yuuji to do something, but Yuuji couldn’t figure out what it wanted. Did it want him to leave? No, if that was it, it would just throw him out on the lawn like it did to Junpei.

“Um…if you’re up for communicating, can you, like, tap on the wall or something?” he asked. “And if you’re not and you want me to leave, can you open the door?”

Yuuji held his breath as he waited, the air thick with anticipation. Finally, after a long pause, Yuuji heard a soft knock on the staircase beside him. He exhaled slowly.

“Two knocks for yes, one knocks for no?”

Two knocks rang out through the entrance hall. Yuuji could feel the air starting to shift, the tension drifting away, carried by a soft breeze of curiosity and maybe something else, something kinder, gentler.

“Your name is Fushiguro,” Yuuji repeated. “I read it on the gate.”

Two knocks.

“The stories about you aren’t true.”

Two knocks. Yuuji felt sick in the presence of this wretched, misunderstood spirit. He wanted nothing more to reach out and ease the century of pain Fushiguro was carrying.

“You don’t like when people come in here and bother you for their entertainment, and that’s why you lost your temper with me.”

Two knocks. Yuuji’s head dropped lower in shame.

“I’m sorry.”

A soft breeze brushed over Yuuji’s head, and if he strained his ears, he could hear a faint whisper of it’s okay, Yuuji , the voice of a young man, maybe around his own age. Something about it made Yuuji lean into the breeze.

“Do you…get lonely?”

The spirit knocked twice again. Yuuji frowned. 

“If I come back again tomorrow, without all that equipment…would you like that?”

Two knocks.

-

Walking away from Black Dog Manor felt like leaving a piece of his soul behind. The door hung open behind him, watching him walk away. Poor Fushiguro. He must have suffered plenty when he was alive to stick around like this, only to suffer in death too, with everyone spreading rumors about him and visiting him on dares. No one in town even seemed to remember his name, despite the fact that it was etched on the front gate that they passed through on their way to bother him.

When Yuuji made it back to his car and sat down, he felt like crying. Sure, he’d been to plenty of haunted sites and encountered plenty of ghosts, but he’d never met a spirit that radiated emotional energy this potent. All Yuuji could feel in that house was anger and despair, suffocating him in its strength. He took a few shaky breaths in and out, trying to calm himself down. The true horror of that house was not the torrent of rage that greeted him today, but the oppressive sadness that made him want to linger and let himself waste away in his efforts to keep the lonely ghost company.

Whatever. Yuuji didn’t mind wasting away a bit. He would go back tomorrow and stay with the spirit for a bit. Maybe he could learn a bit more about what happened to Fushiguro too.

Briefly, he’d entertained the possibility that it was all a trick to get him to hand his soul over, piece by piece, but he’d throw that idea out almost as quickly as it came to him. Yuuji liked to think of himself as someone who could pick up on others’ emotions easily. The suspicion of townies when an outsider walked into their corner store, the discomfort of students when he asked them to help him with his project, the pain and deep loneliness of the ghost who inhabited Black Dog Manor…if Yuuji could ease that pain, even just for a few days, he didn’t mind doing whatever it took to do so. This would probably be his last ghost-hunting trip for a while now that his equipment was busted anyway. He might as well make it count.

He started his car and backed away from the hill, having made up his mind. He’d extend his stay in the room above the pub by a few days, and he’d spend some time up there in the Manor. Maybe it’d be enough to bring Fushiguro some peace and help him pass on from this world and into the next.

-

When Yuuji entered the pub, every eye in the room gravitated towards him. He did his best to ignore them, walking up to the bar. The music in the background, the scattered chatter, all of it dulled into a silence.

“Can I extend my stay for another two days?” he asked.

“Sure,” the owner said. “It’s not like we get many other visitors here. Although I must say, we’re all pretty surprised. We thought for sure that you’d either died or skipped town.”

Yuuji frowned.

“Why?”

The owner shrugged.

“Well, Yoshino ran down from that hill screaming and crying about the spirit throwing things and grabbing him, so we all just assumed you got killed or you got scared and ran off.”

Yuuji laughed, sliding into an empty chair, and the pub owner slid him a beer, despite the fact that he didn’t ask for one and never showed his ID. He frowned slightly and opened it, taking a swig.

“It would take a lot more than that to scare me off, trust me.” he said. “Besides, I don’t think the spirit’s actually all that bad.”

A small crowd had gathered around Yuuji, and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. For people who had seemingly wanted him gone yesterday, they certainly seemed interested in what he had to say now.

“So what happened then?” one of them asked. “Is Yoshino just that big of a wuss?”

Yuuji shrugged, not exactly eager to shit talk the one person in this town who’d actually been willing to help him out.

“I can see why Junpei was scared,” he replied, “and he did get physically thrown from the house. But other than that, it was just a lot of normal poltergeist activity. Throwing things, slamming doors, tipping furniture, those kinds of things.”

Another one of the townies shuddered.

“Sounds evil. And you weren’t scared?”

Yuuji shook his head.

“Like I said, I don’t think the spirit’s all that bad,” he said, “and definitely not evil. I think it’s just really lonely. Maybe something happened in its past, or maybe it was something more recent. That’s why I’m staying a few more days, to see if I can figure out what happened. My point is, I don’t think there’s anything to be scared of.”

-

Before going to bed, Yuuji pulled out his laptop. He’d put university on pause while he tried to pursue his YouTube career, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t access the library databases. As long as he kept his university email, and said he’d return eventually (which now that his equipment was broken and his career was on pause, he might as well return next semester), he could continue to use the databases for his…personal research purposes.

Yuuji pulled up the newspaper browser, filtered by the town, then searched up Fushiguro . If anything he’d heard was true, then all of the most recent articles would be about what happened to that spirit, regardless of how long ago it happened, theoretically.

Old Fushiguro Residence Falling Into Disrepair, No Plans Of Demolition

Another Failed Exorcism At Black Dog Manor, The Fushiguro Devil Continues Its Rampage

Satanists In Town? Megumi Fushiguro Sacrificing His Sister To The Devil? The Shocking Truth

Megumi. Meaning blessing. The spirit’s name was Megumi. It was an ironic name to have, considering the accusations surrounding him, Yuuji decided, flipping through the articles and gathering information about him. To be named blessing while the entire world called him a curse sounded like some sick joke from the universe.

Yuuji scanned the article quickly, trying to catch all the major details, despite the fuzzy text and outdated language. In their investigation of the disappearance of Megumi Fushiguro, police officers visited the Fushiguro family home, only to be met with a torrent of what could only be described as demonic energy. Officer Tanaka reported objects flying and what sounded like screaming, and his partner, Officer Yamashita mentioned a foul odor in the house. 

Yuuji skipped a few lines, trying to wade through a recounting of the haunting that nearly matched what he’d experienced earlier today with Junpei. After visits from several of the local religious leaders, a consensus among village officials has been reached. It is likely that after engaging in Devil worship, Megumi Fushiguro brought in a curse upon his family, and his poor sister Tsumiki fell victim to it. While Fushiguro is nowhere to be found, it is certain that something evil lives in that house now.

Spanish Flu Reaches Home: The Tragic Death Of Tsumiki Fushiguro

Yuuji’s heart sank as the pieces fell into place. Megumi Fushiguro’s sister, Tsumiki, had died from the Spanish Flu in the spring of 1918. Shortly after, Fushiguro had disappeared from the public eye, and when anyone thought to look for him, they were met with his angry spirit. Unable to truly defend himself, Fushiguro had taken the blame for the death, labeled a heretic and a devil worshiper, rather than anyone looking into the nature of his disappearance. 

If Yuuji had to guess, Fushiguro died from the flu, too, and his unburied remains were in the house. Yuuji felt sick. Unable to take it anymore, he slammed his laptop shut. Out of any ghost he’d read up on, Megumi Fushiguro was by far the saddest. Really, he should hear what happened from the spirit himself before he passed judgment, but if even a third of what Yuuji had gathered about Fushiguro was true, it was no wonder he grew violent when approached. Yuuji would be angry too.

Sighing, Yuuji began packing his very minimal bag for his next day at Black Dog Manor, now even more determined to find out the truth behind the house, and offer the ghost that lived there some comfort, a temporary reprieve from his aching. 

Beyond his current equipment being destroyed, the way Megumi Fushiguro reacted to Yuuji’s intrusion, agreeing that he didn’t like to be bothered for others’ amusement, made Yuuji never want to touch ghost-hunting equipment or even upload another video again. The guilt was nauseating. He should just log into his account right now and delete everything he’d ever posted. 

He never thought of it as something that could disturb the souls of the dead, but he wasn’t sure why. It made perfect sense. Yuuji wouldn’t like someone sticking a camera in his face without permission either. He wondered how many other ghosts had been upset with him, but had lacked the century of pure misery that Fushiguro had endured, and therefore, the power to destroy Yuuji’s equipment, maybe even Yuuji himself. 

That was it. Yuuji was done. It wasn’t like he had tons of die-hard fans that would riot if he took his videos down. The closest he had to that was his older brother, Choso, who commented a smiley face and a thumbs up on each video. Yuuji knew his scaredy cat of an older brother was only playing them in the background with the sound turned down, but it was the thought that counted.

After deleting the last video, Yuuji felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. It didn’t undo any of the damage he’d done, but at least he felt better, less like an asshole for using poor departed souls for views.

Yuuji glanced up as rain began to tap against the window panes. Black Dog Manor was barely visible in the distance. He wondered what Fushiguro was doing right now. Did ghosts sleep? Or did they just wander their cages day and night until they could finally find some way to the other side?

Megumi loved the rain. In over a hundred years, he had yet to grow bored of the way it sounded as it drummed on the rooftop. Despite his best efforts, some parts of the roof had given way, and he had to put buckets beneath them to prevent the rot from spreading, which was tedious, but otherwise, it was nice. A little touch of peace. 

Sometimes he felt a bit ridiculous, still tending to the house after all this time, but, in a way, he still lived here, and Tsumiki raised him well. Maybe he could improve his hosting skills, but his guests could also improve their visiting skills. Nonetheless, Megumi could keep a clean house, doing his best to keep it from falling into disrepair.

The only thing sadder than haunting the same decrepit house for a century was haunting the ground it used to stand on.

Yuuji Itadori was probably never coming back, Megumi decided, methodically placing the books back on the shelf he’d tipped over. Sure, he’d promised to return tomorrow, but after Megumi had destroyed his things and screamed in his face, he’d probably keep running until he reached the edge of town and returned to wherever he came from. Megumi wouldn’t blame him. He’d been more than scary, he’d been a complete asshole. It wasn’t Yuuji ’s fault, that the people in this town were horrible.

Megumi walked by the room he dared not go in, settling in the window seat upstairs to look out at the town he was cursed to be born in. He wished it didn’t make him feel so sad to think about Itadori never returning. It was nice to feel seen for once, and Itadori was a splash of color in Megumi’s gray world, both literally, with his soft pink hair and vibrant shirts, and figuratively, with his willingness to speak to Megumi like he was human.

And he’d be lying if he said he didn’t think Yuuji was kind of cute. Or very cute. He hated it. He hated his stupid heart for skipping a non-existent beat the first time he felt respected in a century. He hated his mind for fixating on a living human, when it would never work out. There was no way for it to work out, or at least no ways that Megumi was willing to entertain. To put it bluntly, Yuuji was too full of life to die just to spend his existence with Megumi. 

It was a stupid thought anyway. Was Megumi just that lonely after all these years? When he was alive, he never minded being alone. He could spend all his time cooped up in his room, only leaving to go to university or eat with Tsumiki, and never feel lonely. 

Really, he preferred it to spending time with anyone from around here. Megumi wasn’t deaf. He heard the hushed whispers behind his back as he walked down the street. Heathen was a common one. Out in the real world, science was gaining popularity over religion, but not in these parts. Megumi was an anomaly.

Freak was another common one. Megumi was just glad to not be called a pansy or a fairy . He did a good job protecting his secret, simply by virtue of the fact that everyone avoided him. More people tried to talk to him in death than they ever did in life.

In any case, Megumi was sure he’d be left to bask in his solitude once more. Yuuji did seem like one of those odd, truly good people, the same as Tsumiki, but even so, people had their limits, and Megumi had surely pushed him past his, if Yuuji had any sense of self-preservation.

The view was good from up here. Megumi could see all two streets that made up the town. In over a century, it hadn’t gotten any less pathetic. If it weren’t for Tsumiki, Megumi would have left the second he graduated high school and found a university far away from here, maybe in Kyoto, but he couldn’t let her be alone, not until she was six feet under ground. 

In the end, Megumi was the one who ended up alone for eternity. It was a sacrifice he chose to make. He wished he could say he regretted it after all this time, but he couldn’t bring himself to. Tsumiki sacrificed everything for him. It was the least he could do.

Technically, they weren’t even siblings. 

Megumi’s dad was, for all intents and purposes, a louse. He inherited their house and their fortune from his family, and he pissed most of it away drinking and gambling after Megumi’s mother died. Megumi got used to seeing a different woman in the house every week, the kinds of women that most people would turn their noses up at, though he didn’t really see a problem.

Then one day, he came home with Tsumiki and her mother. For a moment, Megumi deluded himself into thinking he had a shot at a normal family, but those were the thoughts of a naive child. Soon, his father vanished, and Tsumiki’s mother left soon after, once she realized Megumi’s father wouldn’t be able to support her in the way he promised.

That left Megumi and Tsumiki, two scared little kids in a big house. They made it work.

Everyone loved Tsumiki, and Megumi didn’t blame them. She was sweet and polite. She played games with the village kids. She was beautiful and always wore a bright smile. She was everything Megumi couldn’t bring himself to be. He was jaded and reclusive after meeting the sting of abandonment. But Megumi loved Tsumiki too, and he would have done anything to ensure her happiness, even if he was a bit gruff with her sometimes.

Megumi would give anything for one more second with her, just to apologize for being a pain and shoving her away. That was the thing he most regretted, the thing he could never forgive himself for. In all likelihood, that was probably the reason Megumi was still trapped here, between the world of the living and the world of the dead. It was just cruel. Maybe if he’d allowed himself to move on, he would have had half a chance of finding Tsumiki and apologizing.

He found himself wondering sometimes how she felt about this, if she knew he was trapped here, if she was wondering why he never came to visit her in the afterlife. It made his heart ache. After everything he’d done to make sure Tsumiki wasn’t alone, it had all backfired on him. He was alone, and she was alone too.

It was times like this where Megumi wished he could sleep and take his mind off of things for a bit. A century of brooding was enough to make anyone angry. But the best he could do was wait for daybreak and hope that Yuuji would indeed return to drive away the darkness

-

For once, Megumi’s hours of hoping paid off.

He felt the air shift as soon as Yuuji walked through the gate, like the sun peeking through the clouds. Megumi hated the skip in his non-existent heartbeat, but he still ran down the stairs to greet Yuuji. Maybe he was being a bit overenthusiastic, but after so many years, it felt good to feel cared about, at least in some capacity. Yuuji heard he got lonely, and he made an effort to come back. What more could Megumi want? 

He opened the door before Yuuji could reach it, watching as his face lifted in surprise. The rain had cleared the clouds away, and now the sun shone brightly, the light catching in Yuuji’s eyes, showing off the golden parts of his irises, and Megumi was doomed.

“Hi, Fushiguro,” Yuuji greeted, stepping inside. “Did you miss me?”

It would be completely pathetic if Megumi knocked twice right now, but he couldn’t bring himself to lie and knock once. Instead, he opted to do nothing, closing the door behind Yuuji and standing awkwardly by it, as if Yuuji could see him.

“Guess not, huh?” Yuuji continued good-naturedly. “I don’t blame you. I’d get sick and tired of people traipsing through my house if I were you.”

If Megumi were smart, he’d just talk to Yuuji normally, maybe even show himself. But if Megumi were smart, he wouldn’t have developed a crush on a living human just because he fed him a scrap of kindness.

He knocked twice, hoping Yuuji would understand the nuance. Yes, it was true that he didn’t like people traipsing through his house uninvited. No, Yuuji was not one of those people. After only a few moments around him, Megumi’s loneliness was melting like snow on a spring day.

Megumi followed Yuuji deeper into the house, still toying with the idea of just showing himself.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I looked you up,” Yuuji said. “I read some newspaper articles about this house. You’re Megumi, right? Not Tsumiki?”

Megumi knocked twice on the wall. If Yuuji was digging around in the newspaper, he definitely had heard the rumors that Megumi had done some kind of satanic ritual and sacrificed his sister to the devil, and Megumi knew Yuuji had seen his wrath. 

And yet he still came back. 

Either he was stupid, he had a death wish, or he just didn’t believe the rumors.

Yuuji sat down on the ground, pulling out an object Megumi had seen about a thousand times, both in life, and in death. A Ouija board. 

“I bet I can guess what you’re thinking,” Yuuji said. “You’re probably thinking that these aren’t real, and that I’m stupid for pulling one out. And trust me, I know they don’t work. But I was thinking, if you’re not up for talking, you can push the planchette around the board and spell things out for me.”

As much as he wanted to talk to Yuuji, Megumi wasn’t about to stoop so low. Ouija boards were dumb, not to mention how tedious it would be to drag the chip from character to character as he tried to convey the complexity of his thoughts to Yuuji.

“Are you comfortable with me asking questions about how you died?”

Megumi knocked once. Maybe later. He wasn’t in the mood right now, having worked his way into such a frenzy last night that the house was practically shuddering with his energy. He didn’t think he could hold it in, and he didn’t want to scare Yuuji away. 

“Okay,” Yuuji replied, “we don’t have to talk about it then. We can talk about whatever. Let’s see…”

Yuuji frowned cutely, trying to come up with a good question.

“When were you born?”

December 22, 1898. Megumi didn’t move, really not wanting to bother with the Ouija board. Yuuji looked mildly disappointed, but continued. 

“Okay, um…did you live here for your whole life?”

That, Megumi could answer, knocking twice on the wall behind him.

“Did you like it?”

One knock. If Yuuji was staying in town, then he would definitely understand. Nothing had changed. This town, in a weird way, was stuck in time, just like Megumi himself.

“Fair enough,” Yuuji said. “I mean, those articles I read didn’t really have a lot of nice things to say about you, so I can see why you wouldn’t like it here. I’m not sure I like it here either. I feel like I’m some kind of circus sideshow when I drive through town.”

Yuuji stared down at the Ouija board.

“You don’t like this thing, huh?”

Megumi knocked once, and Yuuji sighed. Megumi felt a bit bad, watching Yuuji pack the board away, his shoulders and head dropped in defeat.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “I sorta figured you wouldn’t, given the way you treated my other stuff. Thank you for not breaking this one, though.”

Okay. Now Megumi just felt horrible. Was every single item that Yuuji brought an annoying piece of junk that didn’t do any of the things it said it did? Yes, but that wasn’t Yuuji’s fault. He was doing his best to communicate. Megumi was the one being difficult.

As Yuuji was beginning to stand up, Megumi got an idea. Quickly, before Yuuji could decide to leave and never come back for real, Megumi crossed the room and knocked one of the books from the bookshelf in the hallway onto the ground. He held his breath, hoping Yuuji would get the message.

Yuuji glanced up at the noise in the hallway, noticing the shift in energy in the room. He perked up slightly. Maybe Fushiguro wanted to talk to him after all. He was beginning to feel a bit dejected using the Ouija board.

“Fushiguro?” he called out.

Two knocks came in response, also in the hallway. Was Yuuji supposed to follow him? Tentatively, he tiptoed out into the hallway, looking around until he spotted the book on the floor, leading deeper into the house. Further down the hall, he heard another thunk of something falling.

“Am I supposed to follow you?”

Two knocks. Yuuji started walking down the hallway, marveling at the bookcases on both sides of him. They stretched nearly to the ceiling, and every square inch was crammed with books. Most were in Japanese, but there were some in English too, which surprised him. This town seemed so focused inward on itself that Yuuji would have assumed most people here didn’t know much English beyond, hello and, no English, only Japanese in case a stray American tourist wandered through.

“Do you like to read? Have you read most of these?”

The two knocks echoed from the end of the hallway, where light streamed in through a doorway.

“Was that a yes to both?”

Two knocks.

Yuuji stopped in front of the doorway. He could feel the energy radiating from in front of him, more on the neutral side compared to yesterday, but beneath that, a deep sadness lingered, pushing into Yuuji’s chest and making him ache.

A soft breeze brushed across his face, and the energy shifted, the air growing lighter as Fushiguro moved away from him. If Yuuji focused, he could almost see the ripple in the sunlight as Fushiguro crossed in front of the window.

He peered around the room, wondering why Fushiguro brought him here. There were more bookcases in here, and a few chairs in the corners, but the centerpiece of the room was a grand piano. It looked to be covered in layers of dust, like Fushiguro hadn’t touched it since he died.

A singular key pressed down, and the sound that came out was horribly out of tune, but Yuuji understood. He walked over to the piano, still trying to figure out what Fushiguro wanted.

He stopped in front of the instrument, and his questions were answered as some of the dust lifted, like someone had dragged a finger through it. Right. Fushiguro wanted to write something to him. Yuuji waited patiently, watching Fushiguro’s finger trace characters into the dust. His handwriting was pretty, Yuuji decided, like old calligraphy.

I apologize for destroying your equipment. Fushiguro’s language was a bit dated, and definitely overly formal, but it was still comprehensible.

Yuuji shook his head.

“It’s fine,” he said. “If anything, you kinda…helped. I never really thought about the effect I had on the spirits I interacted with before meeting you. Thank you for showing me I was wrong to be so invasive.”

Yuuji bowed his head apologetically.

He felt a soft brush on his shoulder, and he lifted his head to see more writing on the top of the piano. It’s okay, Yuuji. I’m just a bit of a grump.

Yuuji couldn’t help cracking a smile.

“Well, you’re pretty nice, once you stop being so grumpy,” he replied. “Hey, you don’t play this anymore? I think you could really scare people off if you did.”

Not mine. My sister’s .

Yuuji shrugged.

“Even better, if you ask me. You can just hit random keys, and it’ll definitely do the trick. Like this.”

Yuuji pressed a few random keys in a random rhythm, the off-key notes jarring despite the fact that he anticipated them.

The breeze that brushed past his face sounded a bit like laughter, and Yuuji’s heart lifted a bit.

Fushiguro traced through the dust again. Yuuji frowned when he realized he was starting to run out of space. What would they do to communicate when Fushiguro couldn’t squeeze any more characters onto the top of the piano?

Come tomorrow?

Fushiguro’s sentences had deliberately gotten shorter, more casual, like he was trying to save space in the remaining dust. 

Yuuji nodded.

“Yeah, I can come again. As many times as you want me to.”

Thank you.

“It’s the least I can do,” Yuuji replied. “I mean, the whole reason I started doing this, ghost-hunting, that is, is because I didn’t want anyone to be alone. So if I can help you feel less alone, even just for a bit, I’m glad.”

Why?

Yuuji chewed on his lower lip thoughtfully.

“I already know a lot about you,” he said, “so I guess it’s only fair that I tell you about me. I guess you could say I’ve been lonely for most of my life. My dad died and my mom abandoned me before I can remember, so I was raised by grandpa. He tried his best, but…he wasn’t like me. He was very gruff and detached, where I was very sensitive, so I felt isolated in a weird way. I didn’t get along with a lot of the kids in school either, which didn’t help. And then my grandpa died, and I was truly all alone for a while. I made one friend in university, but otherwise..”

Sorry.

Yuuji laughed.

“It’s okay. I’m sorry for oversharing like this. My troubles are nothing compared to yours anyway. But anyway, I guess since I’m so well acquainted with loneliness and death, that’s why it’s so important to me to reach out to spirits in hopes of comforting them. In reality, I don’t think ghosts are all that scary. Most of you are just lonely. But I guess I never thought that my methods were too invasive. I feel bad now.”

He hung his head in shame, noticing the dust on the piano stirring out of the corner of his eye. He glanced up to read what Fushiguro had written.

You’re a really kind person, Yuuji.

It was the last thing he could write, no space left in the dust for anything else. A bubble of emotion swelled in Yuuji’s chest. Out of all the things Fushiguro could have chosen to share with him as his last words, he chose to compliment him. It shouldn’t have made Yuuji so emotional, but he felt his eyes stinging anyway.

“Thanks,” he said quietly, unable to stop the tear sliding down his cheek. “I’m sorry for everything that’s happened to you, Fushiguro. You’ve had a hard time.” 

Yuuji hesitated, unsure if he should ask his next question. 

“You don’t have to answer,” he mumbled, “but your body is still here, right?”

The two knocks that followed shattered the last ounce of composure he’d been clinging to. His chest ached with the weight of his tears, pouring down his cheeks in waterfalls. Poor Fushiguro. He deserved better. He deserved the peace of being laid to rest.

No wonder the entire town thought Fushiguro was evil. He was angry, and rightfully so. He’d been left up here, forgotten, rotting by himself until he completely decomposed. It was enough to make Yuuji feel sick, his stomach turning itself inside out.

He felt so pathetic.

“I’m sorry,” he gasped. “I’m sorry for crying when it’s got nothing to do with me, it’s just…so sad.”

Yuuji shuddered as the air around him shifted, a gentle sigh in his ear. It’s okay. Don’t cry.

“I’m sorry,” Yuuji repeated. “Fushiguro, you deserve better.”

A soft breeze brushed over Yuuji’s back, comforting. It’s okay.

Yuuji sniffed pathetically, scrubbing at his eyes to clear the tears away. Fushiguro had to comfort Yuuji over his own death. How embarrassing. It wasn’t like Yuuji was there when it happened. It wasn’t like he had any right to grieve. When his grandfather died, the thing that pissed him off the most was all the people who barely knew him pretending like they cared, like they were truly mourning too. Now, Yuuji was doing the same thing, and he hated himself for it.

“Sorry for bringing the mood down.” He tried to laugh it off. “I promise I’m not usually like this. I’m kinda the mood-maker type.”

He flashed his best, most convincing smile.

“Next time, I won’t break down crying,” he said. “Promise. Although, we should find some other way to communicate, now that there’s no space to write on the piano.” 

“I’ll talk.”

Yuuji tried not to let his jaw hit the floor. He’d never had a spirit actually speak to him. Moreover, Fushiguro didn’t seem all that into contact with living beings. Regardless, he’d take it as a win.

“Okay,” Yuuji replied. “If you’re sure.”

“I am.”

Megumi’s voice was low and smooth, like whiskey poured over ice.

Yuuji grinned.

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow then.”

He moved for the door, hearing footsteps follow behind him.

“December 22nd.” 

Yuuji paused.

“Huh?” he asked. “What’s December 22nd?”

“The day I was born,” Fushiguro said. “It’s December 22nd, 1898.”

“Oh.” Yuuji smiled. “That’s good to know. Goodbye, Fushiguro. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

-

Yuuji didn’t want to let the crushing sadness weigh him down, but he couldn’t help it. Sliding into the driver’s seat of his car, he rested his forehead against the steering wheel as he let himself unravel and process his thoughts from the day, the leather sticking to his forehead.

It wasn’t just that Fushiguro had the most heartbreaking story that Yuuji had ever come across. No, to Yuuji, it all felt personal, reaching deep into his chest and rearranging his organs with a piercing sharpness. It didn’t help that Fushiguro’s aura was overwhelming, centuries of bottled up emotion spilling over and filling Black Dog Manor. When he was angry, Yuuji’s hair stood on end. When he was sad, Yuuji felt like he could cough blood. When he was gentle, Yuuji felt like a cat basking in the sunlight.

There was also the matter of Fushiguro’s burial, or lack thereof. Yuuji wanted to sob again just from the thought. He wondered just how much was left of him. A few bones? Or nothing at all? How had Fushiguro managed to exist there during those first few months when the stench of decay hung thick in the air? How, in those months, had no one attempted to brave Fushiguro’s rage in an attempt to put his body to rest? 

When Yuuji’s grandfather had died, preparing for his funeral had been the most peace Yuuji had found throughout the whole ordeal. It was sad, of course, but there was a sense of finality about it, a sense of closure. His grandfather had been in pain for years, but now, he could rest. At least that was how Yuuji had thought of it in an attempt to make himself feel better. 

But Fushiguro was never afforded that luxury.

Yuuji sat up, taking one last glance up at the house looming in the sky before turning the key in the ignition and backing away from the hill. The gnawing ache in his chest subsided as he drove away, as if Fushiguro’s energy had still reached him even off the property. In its place, a strengthening resolve grew. Yuuji would do anything he could to bring a sense of closure to Fushiguro’s soul.

-

The most horrifying part of this town was not Fushiguro and Black Dog Manor, but in the invasive stares and hushed whispers that followed Yuuji everywhere he went. It made his skin crawl, but he tried to ignore it, brushing past a group of curious townies on his way into the gas station.

“The card reader at pump three is broken,” he told the attendant stiffly. “I’d like to pay in here.”

He passed his card over, glancing over his shoulder at the sound of the door opening again. The crowd that was outside had filed in, not-so-subtly poking around the snack aisle in their creepy attempt to stalk Yuuji. He repressed a shudder, turning back to accept his card from the cashier.

“Thanks.”

He headed for the door, not missing the way the group of townies followed him outside.

Yuuji didn’t want to start anything. He really didn’t want to start anything. He hadn’t gotten in a fight since middle school, and he wasn’t eager to get into one now.

“Hey, Pinky!” one of them called out. “Are you a Satanist, or just stupid?”

Yuuji turned on his heel, a bitter anger building in his throat.

“What the fuck does that mean?”

The tallest one shrugged.

“Just that you keep spending all that time in that freaky house. Gotta be something wrong with you.”

Yuuji folded his arms over his chest.

“And why’s that?”

“Because whatever’s in that house is pure evil. You’re messing with something demonic.”

Yuuji’s jaw clenched involuntarily, the muscles in his face twitching in irritation.

 “It’s not,” he said flatly. “The spirit is just misunderstood. If you just took the time-”

The townies burst out laughing.

“Misunderstood? That thing has been terrorizing this town for centuries.”

Yuuji’s fists hung loosely by his sides.

“I know the spirit in that house is kind,” he replied. “If you don’t believe me, that’s fine, but leave that house alone, and leave me alone too.”

When Tsumiki had a crush on one of the local boys, Megumi had made fun of her for it. He chastised her willingness to fold and cater to his wants. He scoffed when she came home giggling about something or other he’d said. He’d called it a waste of time when she’d baked a loaf of bread for him and his mother.

Frankly, Megumi knew better than to waste his time on that sort of thing. He’d found some of the local boys cute before, but it was…different. For one, none of them would have deigned to talk to him, even in a casual context, romantic feelings set aside. And for another, Megumi was fully aware that his feelings were less than acceptable, not just in this regressive town, but in the world at large. Just because Tsumiki gave him a knowing look and an easy smile when his eyes lingered for a moment too long on someone, didn’t mean everyone would react that way. He would be lucky if the villagers burned him at the stake if they found out.

He didn’t understand Tsumiki until now, a century too late.

Yuuji Itadori was something else. He was either a saint or stupid, maybe both. And Megumi loved him for it. That made him the stupid one, folding over something as simple as a mere act of kindness, or several in succession.

Well, he had always liked kind people.

How foolish was it of him to decide, after all these years alone, to let someone in, all over a bag of shrimp chips that he couldn’t even eat? A living someone, no less. Megumi was always careful with his heart. Why was he going soft now?

Despite the fact that it would never work out, Yuuji seemed like the type of person who could be trusted. It would hurt, but it wouldn’t be on purpose, and that was the most that Megumi could ask for at this point. 

Megumi tucked the last of the books from the trail he’d made for Yuuji on the shelf, straightening up with a sigh, determination setting into his chest. If Yuuji was going to keep coming back, if Yuuji wanted to put in the futile effort to comfort Megumi, then the least Megumi could do was show himself. It wasn’t something he’d done in a while, or ever really. He only let himself be visible when he knew no one was around, clinging to some strange sense of humanity. But if he should be seen by anyone, it should be Yuuji. He was the one person who deserved it.

Megumi climbed up the stairs, willingly consuming the energy, walked past that wretched room, and curled up in the window seat in Tsumiki’s old room. When they were kids, he used to be jealous of it, sometimes sitting there without his sister’s permission to read until she chased him out. Now, he’d do anything to be chased out by her again.

Megumi stared off into the distance. Another storm was building out in the distance, darker and heavier-looking than the last one. Megumi should take the initiative to set the buckets out now, just so he wouldn’t have to deal with it later, but instead, he let himself relax a bit longer.

Yuuji didn’t seem like the type of person who would enjoy the rain. In fact, he was the antithesis of it, warm and bright, rivaling the sun itself in his radiance. Megumi almost felt bad for talking to him, for sticking his dirty hands on him and smearing them around, darkening his glowing demeanor. Yuuji seemed sadder now, and it was all Megumi’s fault. And yet Megumi didn’t feel guilty in the way he should. For Yuuji, there would be many other people who could bring light into his world, but for Megumi, there was only Yuuji.

-

Megumi must have zoned out for a bit, something that tended to happen often now that he’d been around for over a century and had already read all the books in the house, because a loud crack jolted him back into his body, so to speak. For a moment, he thought it was a clap of thunder, the start of the storm that had been looming in the distance. He held still, waiting for the next burst of electricity to light up the sky, only it never came. 

Megumi strained his ears, picking up on a slight scuffling and the sound of laughter below him told him otherwise, followed by another bang! Yuuji? No, Yuuji would never be so disrespectful. Yuuji was kind and gentle. He treaded lightly on the delicate floorboards and called out softly for Megumi. Yuuji was everything these people could never be. Once again, his space had been invaded by people who wanted nothing more than to provoke him. 

For a moment, he considered waiting it out. He had something at stake now. If he lost his temper, he stood to lose Yuuji too.

The crack of a stair splintering under a too-heavy footstep told him he had much more to lose than that – this house, the last remaining piece of him, the last remaining piece of Tsumiki . Anger churned in Megumi’s gut, spilling out over the sides of his soul and shaking the whole house with a force he didn’t know he was capable of. He heard one of the last remaining windows shatter, he heard books tumbling to the ground. How dare they? How dare they treat him like some kind of side show, some kind of zoo animal? He was just a human as they were, wasn’t he?

Megumi ran down the stairs, letting his feet fall heavily against the creakiest parts. The laughter had melted into yelps of terror, striking Megumi with a strong sense of pride. They didn’t respect him, but they feared him, and at this point, he would take what he could get.

“I thought that guy said the ghost was nice,” one of them yelped.

Another one was folded on his knees, his hands clasped, lips mumbling some kind of prayer.

Megumi began picking up the books and hurling them at the invaders, aiming for their faces, for their stomachs, for anywhere that would hurt them as much as they hurt him.

“Well, that idiot was wrong,” the tallest one grumbled. “Clearly the Devil is in this house, and in his mind too.”

Megumi threw a particularly thick book at him, hitting him squarely in the nose, causing a bit of blood to trickle down. They had bothered Yuuji, and now they were speaking ill of him, and somehow, that angered Megumi most of all, the fact that they would project their ignorant, backwards viewpoints onto someone so kind and genuine.

Two of them ran for the door, and Megumi let them escape freely, but the last one, the one praying as if it would save him, as if there was a God, remained. Megumi grabbed him by the collar, dragging him roughly across the floor.

“Lord, almighty, merciful and omnipotent God,” he yelped, “Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, drive out from me all influence of evil spirits. Father-”

Megumi lifted him from the ground, holding him so his feet dangled uselessly in the air.

“There is no God,” he said. “There are no demons. There is no good, no evil. There are only those who hurt, and those who get hurt. Think about which one you are.”

Megumi dropped him on the porch, watching as he squirmed to get away.

“I’ve told you all enough times to stay away from my house,” he shouted, loud enough for all of them to hear.

He slammed the door behind him, his hands shaking as he sank to the ground. He’d really done it now. He’d lost his temper again and hurt someone, and they were going to run back to the town and tell everyone. Eventually, the news would spread, and Yuuji would hear what he’d done, and he’d never come back, leaving Megumi all alone once more.

Maybe it was for the best. He didn’t deserve someone like Yuuji in his life anyway. No, that wasn’t it. Yuuji didn’t deserve someone like Megumi in his life. For one, he deserved someone alive , and that was something Megumi could never give him. And for another, Yuuji deserved someone kind, some gentle, someone as warm as him, and Megumi could never give him those things either. Megumi was cruel and violent and angry, and his blood had run cold long before he died.

Megumi sank further into the ground, curling into a ball and folding in on himself. In all his life and all his death, he had only known two emotions– anger and loneliness. They ebbed and flowed over the years, pushing and pulling at each other, but as he grew older, the anger pulled ahead, temporarily drowning out the loneliness in its roar. He fought with kids after school, he talked back to teachers, but worst of all, he pushed Tsumiki away. He snapped at her more than spoke kindly, and that was his biggest regret. Tsumiki was like Yuuji, full of warmth and goodness, and Megumi had tried to stomp the flames out, afraid that he would catch fire himself, though for what reason, he wasn’t really sure.

After Tsumiki passed, the loneliness consumed Megumi whole, but he didn’t expect it to last so long. The sickness seized him quickly, his first symptoms hitting on the morning of her funeral. He saw it coming. The rest of the village could mock him to Hell and back for his interest in science, but he knew what was happening to Tsumiki, and he knew that if he spent all his time caring for her, it would happen to him too, eventually. And he wasn’t about to let Tsumiki die alone and in pain, not like he did.

A new kind of rage burned in him now, one born from anguish rather than anger. The truth was, Megumi ached. He’d ached for a long time now, longer than he’d like to admit. Before he died, before Tsumiki died, before he realized that he was truly alone in the world, Megumi ached. He ached as a child when his dad would leave him home alone for days, sometimes weeks. He ached as a baby when there was no mother to hold him. Megumi was born aching, he died aching, and he would continue to ache until the end of time.

But when Yuuji was around, Megumi didn’t ache quite as much. Yuuji was like salve on a burn. He was the hot spring that eased Megumi’s painful, weary soul. 

And Megumi had wasted that opportunity. He shouldn’t lost his temper like that. If he had just stayed quiet, they would have gotten bored and left eventually. But Megumi was a pot ready to boil over, a pressure cooker ready to explode. He was inherently volatile. 

Before the Devil-worshiper accusations, the townspeople used to say he was his father’s son, angry and violent and not to be messed with. Megumi wished he didn’t see what they meant, but by the time he was twenty, when he looked in the mirror all he could see reflected back at him was the old photograph of his father, callous and discomforting.

The mirror had shattered long ago.

Megumi couldn’t stop the pained cries from escaping him, the wind picking them up and carrying them away from him, cruelly refusing to let him bury himself in his own suffering like he deserved. His hollow chest ached with the force of them, and his eyes burned. Why? Why was he trapped here? Why did the universe insist on torturing him like this?

Megumi didn’t move when he heard the door swing open, the floorboards creaking under the weight of footsteps. He didn’t bother to make himself invisible, only making himself smaller, huddling on the floor, a trembling mess, a pathetic excuse for a soul. After his scene…he wasn’t sure how long ago, he was sure he could anticipate what was coming next.

When Megumi put his full effort into sending the local kids away, it always ended the same, with one of the town religious leaders coming to banish his tortured soul to hell, always to no avail. Megumi couldn’t move on if he tried. Often, it was the priest, but sometimes it was the shaman. It just depended on who he’d pissed off that time. 

Megumi closed his eyes, waiting for the chanted prayers to start, too tired to bother fighting back against the intrusion. He’d had enough. If there was a God, if there was an afterlife, he’d be happy to be sent on.

The prayers never came. Instead, the footsteps stopped next to him, the old floorboard creaking with a shifted weight, and a sudden warmth washed over him.

“Fushiguro?” Yuuji’s voice came tentatively.

Megumi hadn’t been touched in a long time. He didn’t remember it feeling this good.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I shouldn’t have said anything, but they cornered me…and I have a feeling they would have come up anyway.”

Megumi’s trembling was slowing, the ache in his chest dissolving under Yuuji’s touch. Yuuji came back. Yuuji came back for him.

Yuuji should’ve anticipated something like this. From the second those townies got on their bikes and pedaled away, he was hit with a sinking feeling in his stomach. He knew exactly where they were going. And it made his blood boil and his stomach turn.

How hard was it to just treat Fushiguro and his house with respect? The house wasn’t a playground, and Fushiguro wasn’t a circus performer. He was a real person with real feelings. It wasn’t hard to understand.

So Yuuji waited a few minutes, downing a flat Coke and some stale chips that he’d left in the car after his road trip, before following them up to Black Dog Manor. He parked at the base of the hill, carefully situating himself to be hidden in the bushes. He could hear the tumult from there, the house rattling and the townies screaming. He heard something shatter. Vaguely, he thought he heard something falling. 

Worst of all, he could feel it. He could feel Fushiguro’s hurt, his rage. It made Yuuji clench his jaw, fists closing so tightly that his dull, chewed nails broke the skin, a sharp sting and blood blooming on his palm. He wanted to go up there himself and drag those assholes out by the scruffs of their necks and toss them on the lawn with an impassioned fuck you !

He didn’t move. Not yet. Fushiguro deserved to take his rage out on the townies far more than Yuuji did. Really, Yuuji had no skin in the game, but this was the town that had tortured Fushiguro for over a century. He deserved to show those bastards how he really felt.

Yuuji heard Fushiguro’s wail of frustration from the bottom of the hill. 

“I’ve told you all enough times to stay away from my house!”

Beneath the rage, beneath the frustration, there was a persistent ache.

Moments later, the gaggle of townies flew down the hill on their bicycles. When he squinted through the darkness and the leaves that kept his beat-up Jeep hidden, he swore he saw blood dripping from one of their noses. Good.

Yuuji wasn’t an advocate for violence, unless it was necessary. It was a far cry from his childhood self, the middle school version of him who would beat people up just because he could. But if there was one thing he still believed in, it was self-defense. Fushiguro deserved to hurt them in the way they had hurt him. He deserved to make them suffer.

Yuuji gasped at the sudden, suffocating despair that washed over him, like the air had been sucked out of his car, creating a vacuum of suffering. A soft sob echoed through the air, then another, and another, drifting through the wind and wrapping Yuuji in its lamentation. 

Fushiguro…

Yuuji scrambled from his car, running up the hill. The air was heavier up here, thick with pain and anguish. It dug its claws into his lungs and pulled, shredding them to bits, until he could almost taste the blood in his mouth.

Yuuji took a deep breath in, the deepest one he could summon with his chest in shambles like this, and pressed forward, walking through the broken gate and onto the property.

If Fushiguro could sense his presence he made no move to make that known. The absolute misery radiating from the house was enough to choke Yuuji. He fought through it, climbing up the front stairs and pushing the door open. 

It gave way easily, and as it swung back, the reveal shattered what parts of Yuuji’s heart had previously been untouched. 

Books strewn across the entrance hall. Shattered glass on the floor, a few drips of blood too. And in the center of it all, the washed out image of a young man, around Yuuji’s age, curled into a ball on the ground, his face obscured by long, slender fingers and a mop of jet black hair. Soft sobs filled the room, tugging at Yuuji’s heartstrings. As he stepped closer, the man curled in on himself, as if Yuuji would hurt him.

Yuuji crouched on the ground, setting a hand on the huddled mass. He was solid, which Yuuji hadn’t expected, but ice cold. His trembling slowed under Yuuji’s touch.

“Fushiguro?” Yuuji asked tentatively. 

All he got in response was a soft whimper, which could’ve just been the continuation of a sob, nothing more. Yuuji ran his thumb over Fushiguro’s shoulder in an attempt at comforting the spirit.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything, but they cornered me…and I have a feeling they would’ve come up anyway.”

Guilt churned in Yuuji’s stomach. It wasn’t his fault, and yet it felt like it was. He might as well have been the one who hurt Fushiguro, the reason he was huddled here like this. Yuuji’s head dropped to his chest.

“I really am sorry, Fushiguro.”

“It’s okay.”

The voice that answered him was thin and fragile, broken from screaming and sobbing. Fushiguro slowly began to unfurl, not fully, keeping his face covered, but it was enough for Yuuji to sigh in relief.

“It’s not your fault,” Fushiguro continued. “Like you said, they would’ve come on their own. And they’ve been doing it long before you came around.”

Yuuji frowned.

“I know. But still-”

“Don’t blame yourself, Yuuji.” Fushiguro sighed. “I’m glad you’re here.”

There was a hesitancy to his voice that had Yuuji’s chest tightening.

“Did you think I wouldn’t be? Did you think I would leave?”

A pause.

Fushiguro nodded.

“Well, I wouldn’t,” Yuuji said resolutely. “After all, the second time we met, you destroyed tens of thousands of yen of my stuff. And I’m still here.”

Fushiguro uncovered his face, sitting up quickly and letting Yuuji’s hand fall from his shoulder, a serious expression on his face. Yuuji found himself doing a double-take at his eyes, a deep forest color, surrounded by long, dark eyelashes that stood out against his icy pale skin.

“Tens of thousands of yen is a lot of money, Yuuji,” he said, frowning. “That’s as much as this house.”

Yuuji had to laugh, and Fushiguro’s face twisted into a mix of confusion and frustration.

“Why are you laughing?” he asked. “And how can you still come around here when I’ve cost you so much?” Fushiguro shook his head. “I don’t know how you can be so kind to me. I don’t deserve that, certainly not after what I did.”

“Ten thousand yen is worth much less these days, compared to when you were alive,” Yuuji explained. “Your house is probably worth…millions now, or something like that. I’m not really an inflation expert.”

Fushiguro frowned.

“Oh…still, I shouldn’t have done what I did.”

Shame was written all over his face. Yuuji reached over, patting his shoulder good-naturedly. Fushiguro looked down at his hand, seemingly bewildered by Yuuji’s touch.

“It’s okay,” Yuuji replied. “I’m not that upset about it, really, so you don’t have to feel all guilty about it.”

Fushiguro met his eyes, and Yuuji’s heart jumped into his throat at his piercing gaze.

“If you promise not to feel guilty about what happened tonight,” he said, “then I’ll promise not to feel guilty about wasting your money.”

“Deal.”

A silence fell between them and Yuuji shifted awkwardly on the floor. He wasn’t sure what to make of the situation. He wasn’t sure what to make of Fushiguro . To put it bluntly, he wasn’t really expecting the ghost to be so…pretty. Yuuji had found boys good-looking before, but Fushiguro was the first one he’d be willing to describe as beautiful, all clean, sharp angles, and high-contrasting features. Yuuji couldn’t resist stealing glances at him out of the corner of his eye. He had to remind himself that a) Fushiguro was dead, and b) he was from a different time where being gay wasn’t as acceptable. He shouldn’t be getting ahead of himself.

Fushiguro sighed.

“What a mess…I guess I should start tidying up.”

But he didn’t move from Yuuji’s side. It was as if he wanted to linger there for as long as possible, soaking up Yuuji’s company like a sponge.

“It’s interesting that you clean up after your…hauntings,” Yuuji commented. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Fushiguro shrugged passively.

“If I’m going to be stuck here forever, I at least want to be stuck in a nice house,” he said, “although I’m not doing a very good job of maintaining it right now.”

He stuck out his hand, catching a few drops of rain that dripped through the ceiling, staring at his now damp palm thoughtfully.

“Look at the state of things,” he murmured. “Soon, this house will give way to the elements, rotting away into nothing, and I’ll still be here.”

Yuuji frowned. If it wasn’t sad enough that Fushiguro was so young when he died, that his body was left here to decay, that he’d been here alone for so long…the thought of him sitting sadly up on this hill with nothing left but himself to call his own…

Then again, with the way these townies acted, he could barely call his house his own anyway.

“On some level, I do feel partially responsible for that,” Fushiguro continued. “After all, I was the one who broke most of the windows. I’ve caused cracks in the walls and the floors. It was me who never took care of this house. And yet…”

Yuuji shook his head. 

“Time passes, Fushiguro. It’s not your fault.”

Fushiguro glanced at him, his expression melting into something unreadable.

“You can call me Megumi…if you want. I know you know that’s my name.”

“Okay…Megumi.”

The ghost gave a small smile, staring down at the floor. Something about it annoyingly had Yuuji flushing to the tips of his ears. 

“No one’s called me that since my sister died,” he admitted. “Not that I wanted them to, but…it’s nice to feel like myself for a moment, and not some satanic entity.”

A stabbing sensation tore through Yuuji’s chest. 

“Well, you’re not anywhere near as scary as everyone says,” he replied, “just misunderstood. Deep down, you’re a friendly ghost. Like Casper.”

Fushig- Megumi gave him a blank look.

“Like what?”

“Casper the Friendly Ghost…oh, I guess it would have been after your time…” Yuuji trailed off.

“Must be. So? What is it?”

“It’s a movie,” Yuuji explained. “Like a picture, but it moves-”

“I know what a movie is, Yuuji,” Megumi interjected. “It’s that thing you were going to make about me, right? They were around when I was alive, you know. I just never got to see one.”

Yuuji frowned thoughtfully.

“I guess, yeah,” he said. “I mean, it was a YouTube video, but the difference isn’t really important. Anyway, Casper the Friendly Ghost is this character, and they made a movie about him. I watched it when I was a kid, but I don’t remember much…all I remember is at the end, the alive girl and the ghost boy kiss. I think I thought it was weird back then, but now…”

Yuuji threw a sidelong glance at Megumi, finding that the ghost was already watching him, his eyes trained intently on Yuuji’s blushing face, more specifically, his…no, Yuuji was probably just imagining things.

“Now?” Megumi pressed, his voice a mere murmur.

“I guess it’s kinda…romantic,” Yuuji squeezed out, his voice cracking at the end.

“I see.”

The air was so thick that Yuuji could barely breathe, an indescribable emotion pouring off of Megumi and filling the room like fog. Finally, Megumi glanced away, breaking the weird tension that had built between them. 

“I think I’d like to watch this movie,” he said. “I’ve never seen a movie before, and this one sounds pretty interesting. Personal reasons.”

Yuuji flushed, grateful for the dim lighting hiding how red his face probably was.

“I could make that happen,” he said. “We could probably watch it on my phone. It’d be kind of small, so we’d have to sit close, but-”

“I don’t mind,” Megumi replied. “Sitting close, I mean.”

Yuuji wasn’t sure what to make of that, his heart beating out of control in his cage of a chest. Megumi wanted to sit next to him.

“Okay…give me a minute to find it, and we can watch it together.”

Yuuji’s hands trembled as he searched through his phone, scrolling past porn popups and single mothers near him to find a high quality version of the movie. 

“It’s so interesting that you can just find movies on that thing,” Megumi said, gesturing to the iPhone in Yuuji’s hand. “Do you have to pay to watch them, or is it free?”

“It’s free if you know where to look.”

Megumi raised an eyebrow curiously.

“Didn’t take you for the delinquent type,” he replied, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Yuuji shrugged, leaning back against the wall as he waited for the movie to load. 

“Everyone does this these days. It’s not really a big deal. But back in middle school, I used to get in fights and stuff, so it"s not like I"ve ever been a saint.”

Megumi gave a small huff of laughter. 

“Well, I used to beat people up, too, so I guess I can’t say much regardless. But anyway, I suppose that makes sense. Piracy like that has always been a thing, even with Elizabethan plays. You know, back in the day, someone would go to a play and copy down the lines and stage direction in shorthand, and then they’d reprint it and sell it.”

Yuuji grinned.

“You’re so smart, Megumi,” he praised, unable to stop himself. “I bet you’ve read every book in here at least twice.”

“Well, I’ve been here for over a century,” the ghost pointed out. “What else am I supposed to do. Although, I will say, I’m starting to get bored.”

“I can bring you some new books, if that’s something you’d like,” Yuuji offered.

He held his breath as he waited for Megumi’s answer.

“That’d be great, Yuuji. Thanks.”

Yuuji couldn’t help noticing the fond look in Megumi’s eyes, a soft smile growing over his face.

“Let’s watch this movie,” he said, looking away in embarrassment.

Yuuji didn’t even mind the cold as Megumi settled into his side to watch with him.

A ghost and a human kissing. That was something Megumi never thought about. Why would he, when every human he came across was a horrible person? It was a stupid idea anyway. Would Yuuji even want to kiss Megumi? And if he did, where would that leave them?

The only thought that came to Megumi’s mind was pain . Kissing would leave them both writhing in pain. Ultimately, Megumi was bound to this house, and he was bound to being twenty years old. Yuuji had neither of those limitations. Megumi could kiss Yuuji, and he would be wrecked for eternity, whereas Yuuji could kiss Megumi and move on as if nothing even happened. It was hardly even worth considering.

And yet…

That stupid movie. Curse that stupid movie.

Was it better to love briefly and painfully than to never love at all? In the past, Megumi might have said it was better to never love at all. Now, he wasn’t so sure. In any case, kissing or not kissing Yuuji wasn’t going to save Megumi from loving him, stupidly, foolishly. It was his mere presence that had Megumi spinning out of control, his heart racing at every exchanged glance, every word that fell from his mouth, every small movement against his side as they watched that cursed movie.

Megumi was gone. He was a hopeless case.

In which case, there was no point in holding up the floodgates. He would kiss Yuuji, if Yuuji would have him.

No one had called Megumi by his given name since Tsumiki. Half of them didn’t even know his family name, despite the fact that it was etched on the front gate. But Megumi knew for certain that his name never sounded so sweet as when it fell from Yuuji’s lips, floating melodically through the air and landing on Megumi’s yearning ears. He wanted to hear Yuuji say his name over and over, like a prayer, like a song he couldn’t get out of his head. 

But Megumi held his breath. It was bold of him to assume that Yuuji would even be willing to kiss him. It was bold of him to assume that Yuuji matched his feelings even by a sliver. 

After all, Yuuji was the bright spot in Megumi’s life, but there was simply no way for him to be the bright spot in Yuuji’s life. Even if Yuuji was happy to be around him, in reality, Megumi was a shadow on the world, a pool of despair and grief and rage spreading outwards and flooding his house with turmoil. It couldn’t be easy for Yuuji to keep returning. But he did. And Megumi was so grateful for that.

-

The sun was high in the sky by the time Yuuji returned, and for a moment, Megumi worried that all those stolen glances he’d caught meant nothing, that Yuuji was gone for good this time, but when he mounted the crest of the hill, Megumi sighed in relief. It was pathetic, really, the way he waited for Yuuji every day like a dog, but he couldn’t stop himself. The mere thought of Yuuji not coming was enough for him to melt into a puddle of sorrow so deep he thought he might drown, if there were air left in his lungs to suffocate out.

Yuuji was carrying a bag today, and what looked to be a heavy one too, his muscled arms taught with the strain, pulling against his shirt. Megumi swallowed the dryness in his mouth.

“Do you need help?” he asked, stepping outside to meet him.

Yuuji greeted him with a good-natured grin that had his heart flipping in his stomach.

“Nah, I’m good. Almost there anyway.”

“Okay,” Megumi relented, trying not to stare at Yuuji’s calves flexing as he made the last few steps up the hill. “What is this, by the way?”

“Books!”

Yuuji held out the bag so Megumi could glance inside. No wonder it was so heavy. It was crammed full to the brim, the seams of Yuuji’s bag starting to come apart from the strain.

“I figured you might appreciate some new reading material,” Yuuji said bashfully. “What do you think?”

Megumi surveyed the spines poking out, a lightness building in his chest. He didn’t recognize a single title.

“It’s great, Yuuji,” he murmured. “Did you buy these?”

Yuuji nodded.

“Not a single title from before 1918! I wanted to make sure you hadn’t read them before.”

Megumi could have grabbed him and kissed him right then, but he held back. Instead, he took in Yuuji’s face, noting the bags under his eyes, a clear demarcation of fatigue. Was Megumi wearing him down? Or was he just a light sleeper? He wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer to that.

If Megumi didn’t know any better, he would have thought Yuuji matched his feelings, just from the way he looked at him, all intensity and thinly veiled curiosity. But Megumi did know better. Yuuji was just a kind person. It was the first thing Megumi had recognized about him. How could he interpret that in any other way? Wishful thinking, he supposed.

Yuuji tipped his head to the side, remarkably resembling a curious puppy.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Nothing,” Megumi replied, shaking his head. “I was just thinking about how kind you are. You kind of remind me of my sister, in that way.” He stared awkwardly down at the bag in Yuuji’s hand. “Thank you for everything. I haven’t felt this content in a long time.”

“Good.”

There was a thickness to Yuuji’s voice that wasn’t there before, his words heavy with unspoken emotions. Megumi wanted to pull them apart and spread them on the ground in front of him, read into the intricacies of every word that fell from Yuuji’s full, pink lips. 

“Um, can I take these inside?” Yuuji asked. “Sorry…they’re just a bit heavy.”

“Right,” Megumi said awkwardly, stepping to the side to allow Yuuji in the front door, “of course.”

Yuuji gave a grunt as he hoisted the bag up the first stair, then the second stair, and Megumi couldn’t keep his eyes off him. How sick and twisted was the universe, sending him the perfect boy a century too late? It had to be some kind of cruel joke of fate. If he was just born a century later…if Yuuji was just born a century earlier.

Yuuji looked up with a bashful smile.

“Coming?”

Megumi nodded wordlessly, following him inside. Yuuji sat down on the floor and began taking the books out, spreading them out across the floor.

“To be honest, I’m not really into reading,” he continued, “so I can’t tell you which ones are good or not. I just looked for ones that were popular. Sometimes those aren’t that good anyway. Like this one.” He held up a book with pink flowers on the cover and a foreign author’s name on it. “It’s pretty popular online, but I’ve heard it actually sucks. Maybe it’d be an interesting read for you anyway.”

Megumi shrugged.

“I’m willing to read anything at this point,” he admitted. “I even read the Bible, and I don’t really believe in all that stuff.”

Yuuji looked surprised.

“Really? Even now that you’re…y’know..?”

“Dead?” Megumi answered flatly. “No. I still don’t believe in it. I don’t think I ever will.”

“Interesting. Well, in any case…”

Megumi managed a soft smile, the muscles on his face trembling with the effort, atrophied from lack of use. Yuuji visibly melted at the sight, causing Megumi’s still heart to stir in his chest. For the first time since dying, Megumi felt almost completely at peace. 

Yuuji inhaled sharply, his hand extending out towards Megumi.

“What is it?”

Yuuji set a hand on Megumi’s arm, frowning slightly as their skin met, burning Megumi from the contact. But Megumi would be happy to go up in flames if it meant feeling Yuuji’s touch in its fullest. 

“For a moment— I don’t know. Maybe it was a trick of the light.”

“Just tell me, Yuuji,” Megumi said, growing frustrated with the lack of explanation.

Yuuji’s brows were knit tightly together. Megumi wanted to smooth the creases out tenderly with his thumb.

“For a moment…it seemed like you were disappearing. Or maybe more like dissolving. I don’t know, you just looked very translucent, like I could reach straight through you if I wanted to. But by the time I touched you, it changed. It was weird.”

Oh…oh! That was new. Maybe being with Yuuji was guiding Megumi towards some weird form of closure, guiding him slowly but surely to the other side, where he could be at peace, and maybe even see Tsumiki. 

“I see.”

Megumi’s skin still burned where Yuuji had touched him, his skin buzzing like he’d been stuck his finger in one of the rudimentary circuits they worked with at the local university. Combined with the way Yuuji was looking at him…

“What were you like when you were alive?” Yuuji wondered aloud. “Were you the same? Different?” He paused. “Sorry. That’s probably kinda weird of me to ask. You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to.”

Megumi shifted across the floor slightly, until his knee was pressing into Yuuji’s, letting his warmth spread through his whole body, leaving that same buzzing sensation in its wake.

“I think I was the same,” he replied thoughtfully. “Closed off. Didn’t leave the house much. Not very friendly. Interested in academia. That sort of thing. Nothing about that really changed once I died. I can’t leave the house, I don’t typically want to see anyone, most of what I do is read these old books…it’s just more of the same. It’s relaxing, knowing there’s one aspect of the world that I can always rely on— myself. At the same time, sometimes I miss being part of the world. I wish I’d gotten to see more things…go places…maybe…make a friend?”

He threw a casual glance in Yuuji’s direction, trying to get a read on his expression. Yuuji frowned, deepening the bags near his eyes.

“You didn’t have a lot of friends, then?”

Megumi shook his head. 

“In addition to being a bit reclusive, I think I stood out as a bit odd,” Megumi said calmly, sure his voice would give way to feeble tremors soon. “While everyone in town was focused on religion and spirituality, I became interested in science. So even if I wanted to be friends with someone, no one really wanted to be friends with me.”

Yuuji pressed his knee further into Megumi’s.

“I would have been friends with you,” Yuuji said confidently, “whether you wanted me to be or not.”

Megumi nearly laughed. 

“I don’t think so,” he replied. “You would have been the one that everyone loved. You wouldn’t have wanted to hang out with me.”

“Yes, I would have,” Yuuji insisted, his expression touchingly earnest. “Besides, the people here hate me. They would’ve hated me back then, too. We could’ve bonded over being hated.”

Megumi poked at a concerningly soft part of the floorboard beneath him. He couldn’t not tell Yuuji. It would feel like lying. Maybe it was better if he knew anyway, and then he could leave Megumi behind. Rip the bandaid off.

“You wouldn’t have wanted to be friends with me,” Megumi barely managed to choke out, “because I’m a homosexual. I like boys, Yuuji. Romantically.”

Megumi squeezed his eyes shut. He’d never directly told anyone that before, not even Tsumiki. She just seemed to know of her own intuition. He waited for Yuuji’s reaction, waited for some kind of door slamming as he left, some harsh words, or maybe an insult. 

Yuuji laughed, but it didn’t sound malicious.

“That’s no big deal, Megumi,” he said, sounding completely casual. “I mean, I’m bisexual myself, so there’s no reason for me to be upset about something like that. Although, I can see why you might be worried. It wasn’t so acceptable back in your day.”

Megumi cracked one eye open, surveying the man.

“You’re a bicycle?”

“Bisexual,” Yuuji repeated. “I like both guys and girls?”

“Oh.”

It sounded reasonable enough. That just wasn’t the type of thing that was discussed back in Megumi’s day. They would have just been called queer or a pansy . If someone was into both boys and girls, they should either keep it to themselves, or resign themselves to a life of just being a homosexual.

“Y’know, it’s a shame our lives didn’t line up,” Yuuji continued, “because you’re kinda my type when it comes to guys.”

If Megumi’s blood was pumping, it’d be rushing straight to his cheeks. 

“Your type?” he echoed.

Yuuji nodded.

“I like tall girls with a nice ass, mostly, but for guys, I kinda like the cold and mysterious vibe.”

Megumi wasn’t quite sure what to make of that, other than the fact that it meant that Yuuji was, or could be, attracted to him. Megumi stared down at the floor, clearing his throat awkwardly.

“You’re…my type, too.”

He’d always enjoyed the boys who were like puppies, friendly and so eager that he could practically see their non-existent tails wagging.

He glanced up out of the corner of his eyes to see Yuuji smiling, but trying his best to hide it, and it warmed his soul to the core. This was dangerous. It could only end with both of them getting crushed, but on some level, Megumi didn’t care. He couldn’t bring himself too. He should soak up the sun while he had the chance, he thought.

Yuuji cleared his throat awkwardly.

“In any case,” he said, “we would have both been hated. So we could have been hated together. And then you wouldn’t have been alone anymore.”

Megumi’s heart twisted. Yuuji was so sweet, too sweet. 

“What about your parents?” Yuuji continued. “The article I read didn’t say anything about them. Did they die a while before you?”

Megumi scoffed.

“My mom died when I was a baby,” he replied, “but my dad…I wish he died. Then I could use all this anger to bury him six feet deep. It would be worth something at least. But no. He abandoned me. Tsumiki’s mom abandoned us, too, so it was just us for a while. That was back when I was about five. And then it was just me.”

“Megumi…”

“It’s fine,” Megumi insisted. “It’s been years. I’m really not that upset anym–”

Megumi’s voice cut off at the feeling of something warm and solid pressing into him. 

Yuuji. 

His arms were wrapped tentatively around Megumi’s shoulders, his chin tucked into the crook of Megumi’s neck. He smelled good, like sandalwood and grass and something that Megumi could only describe as Yuuji-smell. His warmth spread outward from the places where he touched Megumi, sending a pleasant buzz throughout Megumi’s body. Megumi could feel the firm, toned muscles he’d admired as Yuuji walked up the hill flexing beneath the fabric of his T-shirt. For a moment, Megumi almost felt like he was alive.

Megumi wasn’t sure what to do. Even Tsumiki rarely hugged him, having long realized that Megumi hated to be touched. But for whatever reason, he didn’t feel uncomfortable in Yuuji’s embrace. He just wanted more.

Megumi hesitantly returned Yuuji’s embrace, his grip tightening subconsciously, clawing at Yuuji desperately as if he was begging him to stay with him for as long as possible, rotting away in this cursed house with Megumi. Some dark and deeply selfish part of Megumi really, truly wanted Yuuji to rot with him just so he didn’t have to be alone anymore.

Megumi let go.

Yuuji wasn’t blind. He could see the bags forming beneath his eyes within the first day of meeting the ghost that haunted Black Dog Manor, weighted down by exhaustion and emotion. He could see the sorrow etched into his face, so deep that it didn’t fade even when he gave his brightest smile. He could see the lifelessness lurking beneath the surface of his eyes, growing deeper with each passing day.

He also wasn’t dumb. He knew spending so much time with such a powerful spirit would drain him, would hurt him like nothing else. He knew why he felt tears prickling at the back of his eyes at the smallest of disturbances. He knew why he spent hours staring at the ceiling trying to fall asleep. He knew why he could hardly bring himself to eat when he returned from a day spent with Megumi, his stomach twisted in knots so tight that by the time he found the strength to unwind them, it was time to go back.

To put it simply, Megumi was draining everything from him, most likely inadvertently, but he still couldn’t stop returning to that house. He didn’t want to stop. He’d happily let Megumi drink every drop of life from his soul until Yuuji was parched and crumbling. He’d suffered so much, both while he was alive and after he died. The least Yuuji could do was provide him some comfort.

So it was no surprise to him when Junpei confronted him in the pub after a long day of reading books with Megumi.

“Dude,” Junpei said, sliding into the seat next to him, “you look terrible.”

Yuuji stared into the bottom of his half-empty beer.

“Thanks.”

“I mean it. Are you getting any sleep?”

Yuuji shrugged.

“I’m getting enough.”

Truthfully, he was exhausted, but he wasn’t about to let that be known. It wasn’t anything to be worried about anyway.

Junpei gratefully accepted a beer of his own from the pub owner, shaking his head in disbelief.

“I think you’re spending too much time at that house,” he said. “Whether the spirit is friendly or not, it"s sucking the life out of you.”

Yuuji frowned, irritation starting to burn in the back of his throat.

“It’s not like it’s your business,” he snapped. “And there’s nothing to be worried about. I want to do this.”

“Why, though?”

“He’s lonely,” Yuuji replied. “He needs the company. And if I can make him a little less lonely for a week, if I can bring him a little bit of comfort, then I will, regardless of what happens to me.”

There was also the untouched matter of his budding affection for the spirit, the need to be close to him all the time, the need to do everything for him, but those feelings would remain untouched. Yuuji would take them to his grave if he had to. 

Earlier, for a moment, he thought Megumi might have returned his feelings, but he’d dismissed that thought. Megumi was dead and Yuuji was alive, and there was only one way to change that, one that he didn’t think Megumi would accept, at least not willingly. And when it came down to it, Yuuji didn’t know if he could accept it either. Nobara would be sad. Todo would be sad. Choso would be absolutely wrecked. Maybe even Sukuna would be sad. 

Yuuji chewed his lip anxiously, tasting blood in his mouth. 

“Itadori?” Junpei asked. “You in there?”

It would never work. No matter how much Yuuji cared for Megumi, no matter how much he enjoyed being with Megumi, no matter how much he wanted to soothe Megumi’s loneliness…

“I know,” he said. “I know it’s a problem, okay? I think…” Yuuji sighed. “I think tomorrow might have to be the last day I go to that house.”

-

Yuuji stared at the object in the back of his car for far too long, his stomach churning itself into a nauseating sea of emotion. It had to be done, he reminded himself. No matter how much it would hurt, for both Megumi and himself, it had to be done. The pain wouldn’t be that bad, probably, a sharp burst that faded into sweet closure, ideally.

Yuuji closed the door and headed for the hill. Before all that, he just wanted to spend some quality time with Megumi. Maybe they could read some books. Maybe they could watch another movie. Or maybe they could bare their souls again, and Yuuji could carry some of Megumi’s burden, even if it was just for a moment. 

When he reached the top of the hill, Megumi was already waiting for him, sitting on the front step of Black Dog Manor, leaving the door wide open behind him. It was another damp day, and the house stood out in the landscape, jet black against the pale gray sky. Megumi perked up as he saw Yuuji approaching, and Yuuji felt his heart lift in delight with it.

Megumi’s emotions were just so strong. Even in the moments that he tried to bury them underneath a stony face and impassive demeanor, they whipped through the air like a hurricane, catching Yuuji in their torrents and throwing him around as if he were a paper doll.

“Hi,” Yuuji greeted, feeling shy under Megumi’s intense gaze.

Would it be bad to say that he missed the spirit?

“Hey,” Megumi replied, “I’m…happy to see you.”

Yuuji grinned, relieved that Megumi felt the same way.

“I’m happy to see you too.”

“I have something to show you.”

Yuuji followed Megumi into the house and into a room he’d never been in before, though that wasn’t saying much, because mostly, they spent time in the same three rooms. Most of the house was unexplored, as far as Yuuji was concerned, especially the upstairs, where Yuuji had no doubt that…

The dining room was stately, as expected for a nice house like this, with a hand carved western-style table and dark floor-to-ceiling wood paneling. 

“I did my best to get the dust off of these,” Megumi mumbled apologetically. “I’m afraid I didn’t do a good job.”

Yuuji stared down at the picture frames spread across the dining table.

“Is this your family?”

Megumi nodded.

“This is my mom,” Megumi said softly, picking up one of the picture frames. “Everyone in town used to say I looked like my dad, but Tsumiki said I looked like her. I like to think that Tsumiki was right, but I don’t know.”

Yuuji glanced down at the picture of a young woman, smiling softly in the sunlight. The picture was so grainy that Yuuji could barely make out her features, but she had Megumi’s fluffy hair and delicate, pointed nose.

“I see it,” he replied. “You definitely got your beauty from her.”

Megumi hummed, glancing away in embarrassment as he set the frame down and picked up a different one with a grimace.

“Then this one’s my dad.”

Yuuji saw a bit of the resemblance. It was in the eyes, but there was nothing more to it than that. Megumi’s dad was an angry man and it showed in his photograph, from the downward slope of his lips, to the wrinkle between his eyebrows. He was gruff where Megumi was soft and harsh where Megumi was delicate. 

“I think I have to agree with Tsumiki,” Yuuji said. “You don’t look much like him at all.”

Yuuji’s answer seemed to placate Megumi, because he set the frame down and picked up one more.

This one is Tsumiki. She gave up everything to raise me. I…” 

The air grew thick and Yuuji fought to inhale.

“I miss her,” Megumi said, his voice cracking under the pressure. “I took care of her until her last moments, and…it was so hard. It was so hard to keep going every day. And before she died, she told me to live a long and healthy life. But then I-”

Yuuji couldn’t help embracing Megumi again, the pressure and heaviness in the air growing unbearable. This time, Megumi hugged him back quickly, burying his face in Yuuji’s shoulder as the air began to lighten up.

“I feel so guilty,” Megumi whispered. “She only asked me to do one thing, and I couldn’t even do that.”

Yuuji’s hands traced up and down Megumi’s back, enjoying the way the ghost shivered beneath his touch, despite being frigid against Yuuji’s chest.

“It’s not your fault,” he reassured him. “You did your best.”

“I’d give anything to see her again,” Megumi admitted. “Anything.”

-

A few hours later, Yuuji and Megumi were curled up on the couch in the piano room, a book in Yuuji’s hand that he read aloud to the ghost. He stumbled over his words frequently, embarrassing himself, but according to Megumi, the more modern language was difficult for him to read, so Yuuji had no choice but to cut his losses and read on.

The ghost leaned against Yuuji, his head resting on his shoulder. They were so close that Yuuji nearly forgot how to breathe and became a ghost himself. Maybe he should have. It would be easier than everything that was to follow.

“Thank you,” Megumi murmured, as Yuuji finished a chapter, closing the book and setting it down in his lap. “You know, you don’t have to come here every day. You can go whenever you want. I feel like I’m keeping you hostage.”

Yuuji winced. He’d been hoping to push off this conversation for as long as possible.

“Well, I promise you’re not keeping me hostage. I’m happy to keep coming.”

“But I can tell it’s wearing you down, Yuuji,” Megumi replied. “Don’t kill yourself for someone who’s already dead.”

“So I should for people who are alive?” Yuuji joked.

Megumi huffed, irritated, but not putting his full weight into it.

“Okay,” he said, “don’t live for someone who’s already dead. Live for yourself. Live for the other people in your life who care about you. I’m sure there’s plenty. You’re such a kind and good person. The world would surely miss you if you died.”

Yuuji sighed.

“I guess I was meaning to talk to you about this,” Yuuji admitted, though he really didn’t want to. “I’ve been thinking…” He sighed again, heavier this time. “I’ve been thinking that today might have to be the last day that I come here. Megumi…I’m falling for you.”

Megumi sat up, taking the book from Yuuji’s hands and looking him straight in the eye. Yuuji felt like he was being suffocated, choking on and drowning in the rush of emotions pouring out of Megumi.

“Yuuji, to be honest, I started falling for you when you brought me those snacks as an offering,” Megumi murmured. “I’ve been falling ever since. But…I’ve been thinking about this a lot, especially after watching that movie with you. And as much as I want to be with you, I think it’s best if today is the last day you come too.”

Megumi caressed Yuuji’s face with an ice cold hand, his touch fond and reverent.

“You’re alive, and I’m dead,” he continued, “and like I said, the world would miss you if you died. It needs more people like you, Yuuji. And I can’t let you waste away here, in this stupid town, in this stupid house. Besides, I’m not alive and I never will be alive, so I can never be what you need.”

Yuuji’s eyes were starting to burn.

“And you can explore the world, while I’m trapped here…there are so many great people out there for you, but I’ll only get to experience this for eternity. I’d just chain you down, and I want you to be free, even if it hurts me. But that’s a pain I’m willing to endure, if it means that you get to live a happier life.”

Yuuji let out a choked cry, unable to stop himself. Tears were falling from his eyes faster than he could catch them or wash them away.

“Shhh,” Megumi whispered, caressing Yuuji’s face again, “don’t cry. It’s okay. I’ll be okay, and so will you.”

“It’s just sad,” Yuuji gulped, “leaving you behind.”

“I’ll be okay. I promise. I’ve been here for a good century. What’s a few more years?”

Yuuji’s sniffles were slowing, in time with the soft strokes of Megumi’s thumbs brushing his tears away.

“It"ll be a long time for me without you,” Yuuji whispered. “Before I go, can I do one more thing for you?”

-

Yuuji walked back down to his car and retrieved the object from his backseat. Clutching the shovel in his hand, he sighed. This was a lot harder than he expected it to be, but he didn’t know why he didn’t expect it to be the most painful thing he’d ever been through, more painful than any breakup, rivaling the pain he felt on the day his grandfather died. But if he had to leave Megumi behind, the least he could do was lay him to rest and try to bring him some closure.

When he brought it up, he half expected Megumi to say no, or lose his temper and send Yuuji flying out of the house. Instead, he just smiled.

“You’re such a kind person,” he’d said. “If that’s what you want to do, if that will make you happy, then by all means.”

Megumi was waiting for him by the door, like always.

“I don’t know how much of me there is left,” Megumi confessed, glancing at the shovel in Yuuji’s hand. “I haven’t gone in that room since…well, since it happened. For a while, it smelled wretched in there, but I still couldn’t bring myself to check. And then the smell stopped.”

“That makes sense,” Yuuji reasoned.  “I wouldn’t want to look at that either.”

Yuuji followed him inside, his feet and lungs heavy with dread as they climbed up the stairs. Was he ready for this? Was Megumi ready for this? From the fear and despair and anguish radiating off of him, Yuuji could only guess that he wasn’t.

They paused at the top of the stairs.

“That was Tsumiki’s room,” Megumi said, pointing into a room with the door wide open, “and this one’s mine.”

The door was shut firmly, the doorknob rusty from lack of use. With a shaking hand, Megumi reached for it, squeezing his eyes shut as he twisted and pushed.

Yuuji allowed the ghost to walk in first, a feeling like a thousand knives piercing his lungs setting in as he did. Megumi inhaled sharply, standing over the bed. Tentatively, Yuuji crossed the threshold of the room, meeting Megumi there in a few quick strides.

Yuuji’s throat closed so tightly, so quickly, that he nearly passed out from the lack of oxygen. The bed was empty, save a pile of dust that was oddly human shaped. That must-

“Well,” Megumi said, his voice tight, “this is me. Or it was me. Boy, it sure has been a long time.”

He gave a garbled laugh, picking up some of the dust and letting it fall through his fingers. 

“In the end, we’re all just dust.”

Yuuji let out a choked, pained sob, throwing his arms around Megumi. Megumi accepted it, to his surprise, holding Yuuji as he cried.

“I’m sorry,” Yuuji choked out. “I feel like I’m being so ridiculous. I mean, it’s not my body, and I didn’t even know you in that body. But it’s still so sad.”

Megumi hummed in response.

“I think it’s a normal reaction.”

Yuuji felt the back of his shirt growing damp with Megumi’s own tears.

“How can I leave you after all of this?” Yuuji asked. “How can I let you be alone? How-”

“You have to,” Megumi said urgently. “You have to leave me. You have to let me go. You have to live your own life, Yuuji.”

Yuuji’s ribs ached with the force of his cries.

“Megumi…I think I might love you.”

“I love you, too, Yuuji,” Megumi mumbled. “But you need to let me go.”

Yuuji drew back to get a glimpse of Megumi’s face, tear stained, but with an achingly tense smile pulling at his cheeks, putting his best face forward for Yuuji. His hands came to cup Yuuji’s face, brushing his tears away.

“I don’t want you to be lonely,” Yuuji said quietly.

“Oh, Yuuji,” Megumi sighed. “This past week has been the best week of not just my entire death, but my entire life, too. This moment means everything to me. You mean everything to me. But you have to trust me when I say I will be just fine. And you will too. Maybe not now, but eventually. You have a whole life ahead of you, Yuuji, and I hope it’s a long and beautiful one.”

Yuuji sniffed, drinking in the sight of Megumi Fushiguro, the not-so-evil ghost that terrorized this little town.

“Can I have just one thing before you go?” Megumi asked.

Yuuji nodded.

“Anything. Anything you want.”

“Kiss me?”

And Yuuji did. He kissed Megumi like he was taking his first breaths after a lifetime underwater. He kissed Megumi like an addict taking their first hit after weeks of staying sober. He kissed Megumi like it was everything he could ever need, because it was.

Megumi gasped against his lips, pulling Yuuji in closer by his waist, his hands clawing desperately at Yuuji’s back, as if he wanted their souls to meet in the middle and merge, so they could never be apart. He kissed Yuuji harder, deeper, feverish in his vigor, his tongue pressing urgently against Yuuji’s lips. Yuuji obliged, wanting to feel all of Megumi before it was too late.

Megumi’s grip was lessening on his back– no, that wasn’t it. Megumi’s presence was lessening in general, the weight of his tongue on Yuuji’s diminishing, the feeling crushing Yuuji’s chest in its talons letting up…

Yuuji pulled back, his eyes flying open to see a translucent Megumi, a forlorn smile on his face.

“I love you, Yuuji,” he said. “Thank you for showing me I’m not alone, that I don’t have to be alone.”

“Megumi– you’re–”

Megumi’s expression grew wistful.

“I’m going to see Tsumiki,” he replied. “I hope she’s still waiting for me.”

Yuuji could barely feel Megumi’s hand on his face as he brushed away tears Yuuji didn’t even know he’d been shedding, a cool breeze against his cheek.

“I love you,” Yuuji said tearfully. “I hope– I’m sure she’s waiting for you, Megumi.”

“Thank you for helping me move on,” Megumi continued, his voice a mere echo. “Goodbye, Yuuji.”

“Goodbye,” Yuuji called out.

But his voice fell upon nothing.

-

It took Yuuji a moment to finally leave the house. He sat on the stairs for…he didn’t know how long, trying to get his breathing to even out, trying to stop the tears from flowing, trying to keep his hands from shaking. For a moment, he debated never leaving, letting himself merge with the stairs and become part of the house itself. And when he finally stood up, it felt like he was moving through a dream, taking the stairs down carefully to avoid tumbling down them in his haze.

A small, aching part of him stayed behind, curled up on the bed with the dust. 

As he stepped outside, he gasped and more tears came to his eyes, but he blinked them away frantically. The clouds had cleared, revealing the most stunning sunset Yuuji had ever seen, the sky painted a cotton candy pink, dotted with stray clouds, fluffy and light in the atmosphere. The sun cast the entire valley in a golden hue.

Yuuji gave a tearful smile.

“Hi, Megumi.”

Maybe it was his imagination, but the sun seemed to shine a bit brighter.

Yuuji made himself comfortable on the ground, staring up at the beautiful sight. He lost track of time as he watched it, soft clouds drifting across the sky leisurely, filtering through an array of colors, dazzling pinks and oranges and golds, dashes of purple. Yuuji had never seen anything more beautiful in his life.

As the last rays of sunlight disappeared below the horizon, Yuuji stood up.

“Rest easy, Megumi. You deserve it.”

Yuuji threw one last glance over his shoulder at the house behind him, at the broken down stone fountain, at the grand gate with the plaque labeled Fushiguro , at the window where he first saw that shadowy figure looking at him. After a century of paranormal activity, Black Dog Manor seemed less ominous, and oddly still, oddly quiet, but the soft breeze that sounded of sobs still whistled through the trees and the crevices of the house. 

Yuuji reluctantly climbed in the car and turned on the ignition, an odd sense of satisfaction brewing beneath the ache in his chest as he remembered his grandfather’s final words to him. Yuuji, you’re a strong kid, so help others…save as many people as you can, even if it’s just one. Yuuji smiled to himself. He’d helped two people rest easy now, Megumi and his grandfather. He took that thought and clung to it like a lifeline, if only not to drown in the throws of his own heartbreak.

Megumi was at peace now. Everything else would be okay in time, but until then, a new ghost would haunt Black Dog Manor, the piece of Yuuji"s heart and mind that would linger until he took his last breaths.