The rhythm had settled in like a bruise, persistent and impossible to ignore.
One month. Four weeks. Thirty days of waking up at 7:30 AM to the sound of an alarm, of wearing a uniform, of sitting in classrooms where the air tasted of chalk dust and adolescent desperation.
Megumi moved through the days like a ghost haunting his own life. He attended his classes with the same flat expression that had become his trademark, answered when called upon with responses that were technically correct but emotionally vacant, and endured the training sessions with a half-heartedness that made Instructor Targh grind his teeth in frustration.
He didn't need to try. Not really. His body still remembered the movements from another life.
But more than the classes, more than the training, it was the people that drained him.
They wouldn't stop. It was as if his perfect score on that damned mock exam had torn down some invisible barrier, revealing him to the student body as something worthy of their attention. His communicator buzzed constantly—a relentless symphony of notifications that he had learned to tune out. Messages poured in at all hours:
"Hey Megumi! Want to study together after school?"
"I heard you're good at combat. Can you teach me that throw?"
"Are you free this weekend? There's a new café opening near the Citadel district."
He ignored them. All of them. Sometimes he blocked the numbers outright, watching with a satisfaction that bordered on petty as the little "blocked" icon appeared next to yet another name he couldn't be bothered to remember.
The girls were the worst, their enthusiasm was a physical force that made his skin crawl, their giggling whispers following him down hallways like the rustling of chains. They left gifts in his locker, notes tucked between the pages of his textbooks, and once, memorably, a bento box on his desk that he had unceremoniously dumped in the trash without opening it.
It wasn't that he hated them. Hate required energy, and Megumi had precious little of that to spare. It was simply that he didn't understand them. In his previous life, connections had been forged in blood and shared trauma—in the knowledge that any mission could be your last, that the person fighting beside you might be the only thing standing between you and death. Here, in this sterile environment where the greatest danger was a bad grade or a bruised ego, the friendships felt superficial. Fragile. Like glass sculptures that would shatter the moment real pressure was applied.
There was only one exception to his policy of absolute isolation, and that exception was currently leaning against the locker next to his, talking about something—Megumi wasn't sure what, exactly—that involved a lot of hand gestures and an alarming amount of dental exposure.
"—and then I told him, 'Look, if you're going to throw a roundhouse kick, you have to commit to it. None of this half-measure business.' You know what I mean? It's like—Megumi? Are you listening?"
Louis Beaumont. Golden Boy. The most popular student in Class 2-A. The one person who had somehow managed to bypass every defense Megumi had constructed with the persistence of a particularly stubborn cockroach.
"I'm listening," Megumi said, though he wasn't.
"You're not listening," Louis accused, but there was no heat in it. He adjusted his position, crossing his arms and regarding Megumi with those annoyingly perceptive blue eyes. "You know, most people would kill for my attention. I'm practically a celebrity."
"Then go find 'most people,'" Megumi suggested, closing his locker with a metallic clang. "I'm sure they'll appreciate the privilege."
"Nah," Louis said, falling into step beside him as they walked down the corridor. "They're boring. You, on the other hand—you're interesting. Plus, I need to figure out how you threw me. It keeps me up at night."
"You telegraphed your punch," Megumi said flatly. "You always telegraph your punch. Your right shoulder drops three centimeters before you commit. Anyone with eyes could see it coming."
Louis blinked, momentarily stunned into silence. Then he grinned, wider if possible. "Three centimeters? You measured it?"
"I observe," Megumi said, turning a corner. Louis followed, of course. He always followed. "It's what I do."
The truth was, Megumi should have blocked Louis's number weeks ago. He should have shut down every attempt at conversation, should have frozen him out with the same glacial indifference that had sent every other student packing. But he didn't. And the reason he didn't—the reason he tolerated this persistent, chattering presence—was sitting heavy in his chest like a stone.
It was the earnestness.
When Louis looked at him, there was no calculation in his eyes. No hidden agenda, no social maneuvering, no attempt to use Megumi's sudden popularity to elevate his own status. Louis was... genuine. In a way that reminded Megumi painfully, achingly, of a pink-haired idiot who had once burst into his life with all the subtlety of a wrecking ball and twice the destructive power.
Itadori Yuji.
Louis had the same energy. When Louis talked about getting stronger, about protecting people, about becoming an Awakened who could make a difference—Megumi heard echoes of a voice that had once told him, "You're not alone anymore."
So he tolerated it. The chatter. The persistence. The way Louis appeared at his locker, at his desk, outside the bathroom stall like some kind of golden-haired stalker.
"You're coming to lunch, right?" Louis asked, falling into step beside him as they headed toward the cafeteria. "I saved you a seat."
"I have a seat," Megumi said.
"Yeah, but now you have a better seat. Next to me. Which makes it the best seat in the house." Louis threw an arm around Megumi's shoulders, casual and familiar in a way that made Megumi stiffen. "Come on. Lighten up. It's lasagna day."
Megumi shrugged the arm off, but he didn't protest when Louis steered him toward the lunch line. He told himself it was because fighting would draw more attention. He told himself it was because he needed to eat. He told himself a lot of things, but the truth was simpler: for just a little while, the noise kept the silence at bay.
And the silence was the worst part.
It had been one month since the Winter Solstice. One month since Sunny's last message.
Megumi remembered the date with the clarity of trauma. December 21st. The longest night of the year. In his previous life, he wouldn't have cared about the date beyond its astronomical significance. But in this life, it meant something else entirely. It meant his brother's birthday. It meant the day Sunny had entered the Dream Realm.
The message had come through at 11:47 PM, just before the clock struck midnight and the Spell would claim him.
Sunny: Winter Solstice tomorrow. Don't wait up. Might be... a while.
Megumi had stared at the screen for ten minutes, his thumbs hovering over the keys. He had typed and deleted a dozen responses—warnings, prayers, desperate demands for Sunny to come back immediately. In the end, he had settled for something simple.
Megumi: Don't die.
Sunny: Planning on it. You focus on school. Don't get into trouble.
Megumi: Too late.
Sunny: ?
Megumi: Nothing. Good luck.
He had set the phone down and stared at the ceiling until dawn. And then... nothing. The next day had passed without a message. Then the next. Then the next.
One month of silence.
Megumi tried not to think about it. He threw himself into his studies with mechanical efficiency, solving equations and memorizing Nightmare Creature classifications until his head ached. He trained until his muscles burned. He slept—when he could sleep—with the communicator clutched in his hand like a talisman.
But the silence crept in. During the empty hours between classes. In the dead of night when the apartment was too quiet. When he opened the refrigerator and saw that they had real food now, and realized he hadn't touched half of it because eating it alone felt like a betrayal.
He needed to know. He couldn't stand not knowing.
So he had contacted Master Jet.
The conversation had been brief, awkward, and thoroughly humiliating in the way that only asking for help could be. He had sent the message at 6:00 AM, before his better judgment could wake up and stop him.
Megumi: This is Megumi. Sunny's brother.
The response had come two hours later.
Jet, M. Ascended: I remember you. The gloomy kid. How are you holding up?
Megumi: Fine. I need to ask something.
Jet, M. Ascended: Go ahead.
Megumi: Can I visit the Academy? To see Sunny?
The typing indicator had appeared, disappeared, and appeared again. When the message finally came, it was gentle in a way that made Megumi's chest tight.
Jet, M. Ascended: I'm sorry, kid. Only Awakened can enter the Academy grounds, except for members of the Great Clans. Government regulation. I can't bring you in even if I wanted to.
Megumi had stared at the screen, feeling the hope drain out of him like blood from a wound. He had been prepared for this, but the confirmation still landed like a physical blow.
Megumi: I understand. Thank you anyway.
He had set the phone down and prepared to endure another day of not knowing. But then, three minutes later, another message came.
Jet, M. Ascended: Wait. I'll check on him for you. I have some errands to run in the academy, so I'll stop by the Sleeper Center afterward. I'll message you what I find.
Megumi: ...Thank you.
Jet, M. Ascended: Don't mention it. Focus on your studies, kid.
That had been this morning. Now, sitting in the cafeteria picking at a plate of lasagna he didn't taste, Megumi checked his communicator for the thousandth time. Still nothing. Louis was talking about some movie he wanted to see, but the words were just white noise against the static of Megumi's anxiety.
His phone buzzed.
Megumi's hand moved so fast he nearly knocked over his water bottle. He fumbled with the screen, heart hammering against his ribs.
Jet, M. Ascended: He's fine. Still in the Dream Realm. No complications detected. His vitals are stable. He's doing better than most would expect. Don't worry, your brother's too stubborn to die.
The relief that flooded through Megumi was so intense it felt like pain. His vision blurred for a moment, and he had to blink rapidly to clear it. He stared at the message—He's fine, he's fine, he's fine—reading it over and over until the words stopped making sense.
"Whoa, hey," Louis's voice cut through the haze. "You okay? You look like you're about to cry."
"I'm not crying," Megumi said, his voice rougher than intended. He looked down at his lasagna, suddenly hungry for the first time in weeks. "I'm fine."
"Sure, sure," Louis said, though he sounded doubtful. "Good news?"
"My brother," Megumi said quietly. "He's okay."
Louis was quiet for a moment. Then he reached across the table and squeezed Megumi's shoulder—quick, firm, and unexpectedly comforting. "That's great, man. Really. I know you've been worried."
Megumi nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He picked up his fork and took a bite of lasagna. It was cold, but it tasted like salvation.
----
"Alright, class," Teacher Jasmine announced, her voice cutting through the murmur of the classroom like a knife through silk. "Settle down. We have a new unit to discuss, and I expect your full attention."
Megumi looked up from his notebook, where he had been sketching the outline of a shikigami he would never summon again. Teacher Jasmine stood at the front of the room, her dark hair pulled back in a severe bun that matched her severe expression. She was young for a teacher, perhaps in her early thirties.
"As you know," she began, pacing slowly across the front of the room, "the Nightmare Spell is not merely a curse or a disease. It is a transformation. A crucible that separates the wheat from the chaff, the strong from the weak. But more importantly, it is a responsibility."
She tapped the whiteboard, and an image appeared—a map of the world, dotted with red markers that pulsed like open wounds.
"These are the Gates," she said. "Locations where the Dream Realm bleeds into our reality. Without the Awakened to close them, these Gates would release Nightmare Creatures into our cities. Into our homes. The impact of the Awakened on our world cannot be overstated. They are our shields, our swords, and sometimes—" her expression darkened, "—our sacrifices."
The classroom was silent now. Even the usual whispers and note-passing had stopped.
"To that end," Teacher Jasmine continued, "you will be completing a group project. A presentation on the impact of Awakened in the world. You will research their history, their contributions, and their failures. You will analyze the economic, social, and military implications of their existence. And you will present your findings to the class."
She picked up a tablet, scrolling through it with a manicured thumb. "You will work in groups of four. Ten groups total. I have already assigned the groups based on your academic performance and complementary skill sets. Do not complain to me about your assignments. I do not care."
Megumi felt a sinking sensation in his stomach. Group projects. Of course. Because his social life wasn't complicated enough already.
"Group One: Anderson, Chen, Park, and Williams. Group Two: Bruno, Hensen, Schmidt, and Jones..."
Louis perked up at his name, looking around the room with interest. Megumi tuned out, already resigned to whatever fresh hell awaited him.
"Group Six: Megumi, Beaumont, Rain, and Tanaka."
Megumi blinked. He looked up, certain he had misheard.
But no. Teacher Jasmine was looking directly at him, a glint in her eye that suggested she knew exactly what she had done. "Yes, Mr. Megumi. You and Miss Rain are in the same group. Along with Mr. Beaumont and Miss Tanaka."
Louis leaned over, grinning. "Well, well. Looks like we're going to be working together, Man".
Megumi didn't respond. He was too busy staring at the back of Rain's head, wondering if fate was laughing at him.
The lunch bell rang two hours later, and Louis immediately pounced.
"Group meeting!" he announced, grabbing Megumi's arm before he could escape. "Conference room by the library. Don't try to run, Fushiguro. I know all your hiding spots now."
"I don't have hiding spots," Megumi lied.
"Sure you don't. That's why I found you in the supply closet last Tuesday."
"That was one time."
"Twice. You also tried to hide in the maintenance stairwell on Thursday." Louis dragged him toward the library, waving his free hand to catch Rain's attention. "Rain! Miyu! Over here! Group Six assembly!"
Rain approached tentatively, her eyes darting between Megumi and Louis like a deer trying to decide which predator to flee from. Behind her came a small girl with a black bob cut and thick, round glasses that made her eyes look enormous. She looked like she would rather be literally anywhere else.
"Um, hi," Rain said, her voice soft. "I'm Rain. I guess we're in the same group?"
"I know who you are," Megumi said. Then, realizing how that sounded, he added, "We share a classroom."
"Right. Yes. Of course." Rain twisted a strand of hair around her finger. "This is Miyu. She's... she's also in our group."
The girl with the glasses—Miyu—peered at Megumi over the rims of her spectacles. "You look like her," she whispered, then immediately turned bright red and hid behind her book. "Sorry! I didn't mean to be weird! I just—um—you have the same eyes. And nose. And—"
"It's fine," Megumi interrupted, before she could list his entire facial structure. "Let's just get this over with."
They found an empty table in the corner of the library. Louis immediately commandeered the chair at the head of the table, spreading his arms wide like a king addressing his court. "Alright, team! Let's strategize. We need to research the economic impact of Awakened resource extraction in the Dream Realm, the social stratification caused by Aspect hierarchy, and the military applications of—"
"How do you know all that?" Rain asked, surprised.
"I read the syllabus while Jasmine was talking," Louis said, tapping his temple. "Multitasking. You should try it."
"About the project," Megumi said, steering the conversation back on track. "We need to divide the work."
"Obviously," Louis agreed. "I can handle the military section. My dad's in the Awakened Bureau, so I have access to declassified reports. Well, partially declassified. Enough to make our presentation look good."
"I can do the social stratification part," Rain offered. "I... I've read a lot about the Legacy clans. For personal interest."
"I'll take the economic section," Megumi said. "It's just mathematics applied to resource distribution. I can handle that."
Three pairs of eyes turned to Miyu, who had been slowly inching her chair away from the table. She froze like a rabbit caught in headlights. "Oh! Um. I guess... I guess I can do the introduction and conclusion? And maybe compile the research? I'm good at organizing things. And I like reading. I read a lot. Maybe too much. My sister says I read too much. She says I should go outside more, but outside is where people are, and people are scary, and—"
"Miyu," Louis said gently, holding up a hand. "The research compilation would be perfect. You're a lifesaver."
Miyu visibly deflated with relief. "Okay. Yes. I can do that. Thank you."
"Now," Louis continued, "we need to decide where to work. My place is out—my dad's got the Awakened Bureau over for drinks every other night, and they get loud. Rain?"
Rain hesitated. "I... I could ask my parents? We have a computer in my room. But I'd need permission to have people over. And for dinner."
"Dinner?" Megumi asked, the word feeling dangerous in his mouth.
"Well, if you're coming over, you should stay for dinner," Rain said, as if this were obvious. "My mom always makes too much food anyway." she trailed off, her cheeks flushing. "Anyway. I can ask. Tonight. If that's okay?"
"Sounds like a plan!" Louis said, clapping his hands together. "Rain's house it is. Next week? Saturday? Gives us time to do preliminary research."
They all nodded. Megumi was already planning his escape route when Louis leaned forward, his eyes narrowing with sudden intensity.
"You know," he said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "has anyone else noticed that Megumi and Rain look exactly alike? Like, eerily alike? Same eyes, same hair color, same bone structure. If I didn't know better, I'd say you two were related."
The table fell silent. Rain's face went pale, then red, then pale again. Megumi felt his heart stutter in his chest.
"It's just a coincidence," he said quickly, his voice sharper than intended. "Lots of people have dark hair."
"And onyx eyes?" Louis pressed. "That specific shade? Come on, guys. It's uncanny."
"I think we should focus on the project," Megumi said, standing up abruptly. His chair scraped against the floor with a sound like a scream. "I'll research the economic data. Louis, you handle the military. Rain, ask your parents about Saturday. Miyu... keep reading."
He walked away before anyone could stop him, feeling Louis's confused gaze and Rain's bewildered stare burning holes in his back. His heart was hammering against his ribs, and he couldn't breathe properly.
Too close. Louis was getting too close to the truth.
He spent the rest of the day in a fog, going through the motions of class without really hearing the lectures. When the final bell rang, he escaped to the public transport station, grateful for the anonymity of the crowded train.
His communicator buzzed as he was stepping off at his stop.
Jet, M. Ascended: He's fine. Still in the Dream Realm. You shouldn't worry.
Megumi stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, causing a businessman to swerve around him with an annoyed huff. He didn't care. He read the message three times, then four, then five.
He's fine.
The weight that had been crushing his chest for a month suddenly lifted. Megumi exhaled, long and shaky, and realized his hands were trembling. He leaned against a lamppost, staring up at the gray sky, and allowed himself—just for a moment—to feel relief.
Sunny was alive. Sunny was okay.
He went home. He ate dinner—actually ate it, rather than pushing it around his plate. He slept without dreaming, or at least without remembering his dreams.
The next morning, Rain approached him at his locker.
"My parents said yes," she announced. "Saturday. Three o'clock. And they... they want you all to stay for dinner. If you want?"
Megumi looked at her. At his sister. The girl who had grown up with a family while he had grown up with Sunny. The girl who didn't know he existed, who had been spared the poverty and the pain of the outskirts.
He should say no. He should keep his distance, maintain the barrier between their lives. It was safer that way. For both of them.
But Yuji's words echoed in his mind—"You're not alone anymore"—and Megumi found himself nodding.
"Fine," he said. "Saturday."
Rain's smile was like sunlight breaking through clouds. "Great! I'll text you the address."
She ran off before he could respond, leaving Megumi standing alone by his locker, feeling like the world had just shifted beneath his feet.
One week later, Megumi stood outside a house that was too nice, in a neighborhood that was too clean, wearing clothes that were too casual for the wealth on display. He had chosen a white t-shirt and a black hoodie, paired with black trousers that weren't part of his school uniform. His school bag was slung across his back, heavy with research notes and the weight of his anxiety.
The house was a two-story structure with a small garden out front, surrounded by a low fence that seemed more decorative than functional. The windows were clean. The paint was fresh. It was the kind of house that existed in a different dimension from the rusted metal shed where Megumi had spent his childhood.
"Megumi!"
He turned to see Louis jogging up the street, dressed in a button-down shirt and slacks that probably cost more than Megumi's monthly food allowance. The blonde boy was waving enthusiastically, his hair catching the afternoon light like a halo.
"You're early," Megumi observed as Louis reached him.
"Couldn't wait," Louis said, adjusting his collar. "I've been curious about Rain's place. She never talks about her family. Very mysterious."
"She's not mysterious," Megumi said. "She's private. There's a difference."
"Sure, sure." Louis clapped him on the shoulder. "Ready to meet the parents?"
"No."
"Great! Let's go."
They approached the door together. Megumi's hand was halfway to the doorbell when the door suddenly swung open, revealing a young boy with messy brown hair and a suspicious expression. He couldn't have been older than eight, but he carried himself with the swagger of a much larger creature.
"Who are you?" the boy demanded, squinting up at them.
"We're here for Rain," Louis said, his smile turning on like a high-wattage bulb. "Group project. You must be the little brother?"
"I'm Luca," the boy said, puffing out his chest. "And I'm going to be the strongest Awakened ever! Stronger than anyone!"
"Impressive goal," Megumi said quietly.
Luca turned his squint on Megumi, and something in his expression shifted. Recognition flickered in his eyes. "You look like Sis," he said, blunt as a hammer. "Same face. Weird."
Megumi's blood turned to ice.
"Luca! Who is it?" Rain's voice came from somewhere inside the house, accompanied by the sound of running footsteps. A moment later, she appeared in the doorway, her hair tied back in a messy ponytail and an apron wrapped around her waist. "Oh! You're here! Early! I mean, not early, but—come in! Please!"
She ushered them inside with frantic gestures, shooting Luca a look that could have curdled milk. "Don't mind him. He's going through a phase. Luca, go find Dante. And stop interrogating my guests!"
"But he looks like—"
"I said go!"
Luca scampered off with a final suspicious glance at Megumi. Rain turned to them, her face flushed with embarrassment.
"I'm so sorry. He's... energetic. Come on, my room is upstairs. Miyu's already here."
They followed her up a staircase lined with family photos—Rain at various ages, always smiling, always surrounded by people who loved her. Megumi looked away.
Rain's room was exactly what he expected from a fourteen-year-old girl who had grown up with money and security. It was painted in soft blues, with a large bed covered in white linens, a desk with a high-end computer setup, and bookshelves overflowing with novels and textbooks. Miyu was already there, sitting cross-legged on the floor with her laptop open, her bobbed hair swaying as she typed furiously.
"I brought snacks!" Rain announced, setting down a tray of cookies and juice boxes. "And Mom said dinner will be ready at seven. So we have four hours to work. Is that enough?"
"Plenty," Louis said, already commandeering the desk chair. "Alright, team. Let's make some magic."
The next four hours passed in a blur of research, typing, and occasional bickering. Louis was surprisingly focused when he wanted to be, his usual chatter reduced to a steady stream of facts and figures about Awakened military operations. Miyu, once she got over her initial shyness, proved to be an excellent researcher, pulling up obscure academic papers with the efficiency of a professional archivist. Rain handled the organizational structure, creating outlines and transitions that made their disparate sections flow together.
Megumi worked on the economic models, his fingers flying across the keyboard as he translated complex resource distribution algorithms into something approaching understandable. It was easy, in a way. Just numbers. Just logic. No emotions, no hidden meanings, no dangerous revelations.
But every so often, he would catch Rain looking at him. Studying him. Her eyes would linger on his face, searching for something, and then she would blush and look away when he caught her.
"Done," Louis announced at 6:45 PM, stretching his arms above his head with a satisfied groan. "We are officially the most prepared group in Class 2-A. Teacher Jasmine is going to weep with joy."
"It's good," Miyu agreed, her voice barely above a whisper. "I added the citations. And the bibliography. And a glossary of terms for the technical sections."
"Perfect," Rain said, saving the final version to three different backup drives with the paranoia of someone who had lost work before. "We just need to practice the presentation. But that can wait until next week."
A knock at the door interrupted them. "Girls? Boys?" A woman's voice—warm, maternal, familiar in a way that made Megumi's chest ache. "Dinner's ready. Come on down."
They packed up their things and followed Rain downstairs. The dining room was cozy—smaller than Megumi expected, given the size of the house, but filled with warmth. A long table dominated the space, already laden with dishes that smelled like heaven. Roast chicken. Mashed potatoes. Steamed vegetables. Bread still warm from the oven.
It was too much. Too normal. Too painfully domestic.
"Welcome, welcome!" Rain's mother—Nina, Megumi remembered from the introduction—emerged from the kitchen with a platter of gravy. She was a pretty woman in her early forties, with Rain's eyes and a smile that crinkled the corners of her face. "You must be Louis and Megumi. Rain has told me so much about you."
"Only good things, I hope," Louis said, his charm turned up to maximum.
"She said you were very... persistent," Nina said diplomatically. Her eyes fell on Megumi, and for a moment, those eyes lingered.
"Mom?" Rain asked, concerned.
"It's nothing," Nina said quickly, recovering her smile. But her gaze kept returning to Megumi, searching his face with an intensity that made him want to squirm. "You just... you look very familiar, dear. Has anyone ever told you that?"
"I get that a lot," Megumi said quietly.
"Well, sit, sit! We don't stand on ceremony here. Joshua! Boys! Dinner!"
The thunder of small feet preceded Luca and another boy—Dante, Megumi assumed—who looked to be around seven. They were followed by a tall man with graying hair and broad shoulders.
"Joshua, this is Louis and Megumi," Nina said. "Rain's study partners."
"Welcome," Joshua said, his voice deep and warm. He shook Louis's hand firmly, then turned to Megumi. "Well. I'll be damned."
"Dad," Rain said, her voice tight with warning.
"Just making an observation," Joshua said, raising his hands in surrender. He didn't look away from Megumi, though. "Son, has anyone ever mentioned you look like you could be related to my daughter?"
The room went silent. Megumi felt every eye turn to him, felt the weight of the secret pressing down on his chest like a physical force.
"It's a coincidence," he said, his voice steady despite the turmoil inside. "Common facial structure in this region. Genetic drift."
"Right," Joshua said slowly. "Of course."
They sat down to eat. The table was crowded—eight people around a table meant for six—but nobody seemed to mind. Luca and Dante squeezed together on one side, chattering excitedly about some video game, while Megumi found himself between Louis and Rain, directly across from Nina.
"So," Nina said, serving Megumi a portion of chicken that could have fed three people, "tell us about yourselves. Louis, your father works in the Awakened Bureau, yes?"
"Yes, ma'am," Louis said, accepting his own plate with a grateful smile. "He's an awakened. Handles resource allocation for the Citadels. Very boring stuff, really. Lots of spreadsheets."
"And your mother?"
"Housewife. But she used to be a teacher. She keeps threatening to go back to work, but Dad likes having her home." Louis's smile faltered slightly. "I'm an only child, so... you know. Lots of pressure to be perfect."
"We're not perfect," Dante said loudly. "Luca eats his boogers."
"I do not!"
"Boys," Joshua said, his voice carrying the authority of a parent who had done this a thousand times. "Table manners. Miyu, dear, how is your family?"
Miyu, who had been trying to make herself invisible behind her glasses, jumped slightly. "Oh! Um. We own a bakery. In the commercial district. My parents, I mean. Not me. I just... eat the bread. And my sister is in college. Studying architecture. She's very smart. Much smarter than me. I'm just... here."
"You're very good at research," Rain said loyally.
"Thanks," Miyu whispered.
"And Megumi?" Nina's voice was gentle, but there was something sharp beneath it. Something watching. "What about your family?"
Megumi set down his fork. The room seemed to tilt slightly, the walls pressing in.
"My parents died when I was two," he said. The words were mechanical, rehearsed. He had said them a hundred times to a hundred different people. But here, in this house, with these people, they felt heavier. "I don't remember them. I have an older brother. Sunny. He... he recently passed his First Nightmare. He's in the Dream Realm now."
"An Awakened?" Joshua's interest sharpened. "At his age? That's impressive."
"He's sixteen," Megumi said. "He was infected a month ago. Survived the First Nightmare. Now he's... in the dream realm."
"Must be hard," Nina said softly. "Waiting. Not knowing."
Megumi met her eyes. There was understanding there. Empathy. The kind that came from knowing what it meant to worry about someone you loved.
"Yes," Megumi said quietly. "But he's strong. The strongest person I know."
The table fell silent. Then Dante laughed. "Cool!"
"What's his Aspect?" Luca demanded, leaning forward with the intensity of a child who lived and breathed Awakened lore. "Does he have a cool weapon? Can he shoot fire? My friend Kenji says his cousin can shoot fire from his eyes!"
"Luca, let the boy eat," Nina chided, but she was smiling.
"It's fine," Megumi said. And to his surprise, it was. Talking about Sunny here, in this warm room with this family—it didn't feel like a betrayal. It felt like... sharing. "I don't know all the details. He keeps things to himself. But I know he's special. He has to be. He's my brother."
"Family," Joshua said, raising his glass. "The strongest bond there is. To your brother, Megumi. May he return safely."
"To Sunny," Louis echoed, raising his juice box.
"To Sunny," Rain whispered, her eyes meeting Megumi's across the table.
They ate. They talked. The boys argued about which Awakened was the strongest. Nina asked about their project, offering suggestions that revealed a keen intelligence beneath her maternal warmth. Miyu slowly relaxed, even laughing once at something Louis said.
And Megumi... Megumi ate until he was full. He laughed—once, twice—at Luca's dramatic retelling of a playground battle. He accepted seconds when Nina insisted, and thirds when she wouldn't take no for an answer. He sat in the warmth and the noise and the chaos of a family dinner, and for the first time since Sunny had left, he didn't feel alone.
It was terrifying. It was wonderful.
It was too much, and not enough, all at once.
At nine o'clock, they finally left. Nina pressed leftovers into their hands. And Joshua shook their hands with genuine warmth. Luca made Megumi promise to bring Sunny to meet them someday, and Dante gave him a fist bump that was surprisingly professional.
Rain walked them to the door, saying goodbye to the new group of friends she made. She hesitated there, looking at Megumi with those eyes that were so like his own. "Thank you all for coming. It was nice having friends at home".
Megumi looked at her. At his sister. He thought of all the things he could say—all the truths he could tell, all the secrets he could spill.
He thought of telling her that they were twins. That they had been separated by fate.
But he didn't say any of it. Instead, he simply nodded.
"Thank us," he said, "when we get an A on the presentation."
Rain smiled, bright and beautiful and unaware. "We will. With you and Louis and Miyu... we can't lose."
"See you Monday, Megumi!" Louis called, already halfway down the walk. "Try not to miss me too much over the weekend!"
"Unlikely," Megumi replied, but his voice lacked its usual bite.
He walked home through streets that were suddenly less cold, carrying a bag of leftovers that smelled like home cooking and a heart that felt dangerously full. The communicator in his pocket buzzed once—a message from Jet, perhaps, or just a notification—but he didn't check it.
Tonight, he didn't need confirmation that Sunny was alive. Tonight, he could feel it. In the warmth of the meal, in the noise of the family, in the lingering presence of a sister who didn't know she had found her brother.
Tomorrow, the silence might return. Tomorrow, the worry would creep back in, and the loneliness, and the weight of secrets he couldn't share. But tonight...
Tonight, Megumi walked home under a sky full of stars, and for the first time in a month, he didn't feel like he was drowning.