Archive of Our Own

What is the Ship of Dreams to a boy who dreams of never waking? 

Is it the ferry of the River Styx? Taking him from one side of life to the other?

Though, of course, this ship cannot be the ship of his dreams. No, this ship is unsinkable. 

It is a floating prison with no release date for its inmates, suspended in dreamlike animation, forcing him to continue towards something he would rather avoid. 

He is forced to keep floating through life, never being a part of it. Always apart from it. Just floating. Waiting. In stasis for anything that could change. To make him feel something as opposed to nothing. 

He takes long walks by himself late at night through bad parts of town. Doesn’t look twice when crossing the street into oncoming traffic. Leaves his doors unlocked. 

He is asleep, but awake. Treading water like a shark who has no choice but to keep moving if he wants to live. And even though he doesn’t, he is not allowed to stop. 

Someone else comes along. Uses him as a marionette. Ties string to his limbs and moves them for him. So he could not stop even if he wanted to. 

That’s maybe the only thing he wants is for it all to stop. He would give anything — truly anything — for it all to stop. Even if the price he has to pay is his very life. 

He's not sure how much it's worth anymore. 

Shouldn't the lives of those who want to live them be worth more than the lives of people who don't?

They must have some understanding of value — an exchange rate of some kind — if they tell you to prepare for the journey across the River Styx by packing a coin. Placing it over your eyes to be blinded by greed one last time. 

He could pack every coin. Coins and coins and coins — enough to drown the boat from the weight of it all. The weight of expectation. The weight of money. The weight of what’s to come. 

But of all the things that add value to the Ship of Dreams, floating with treasure, his life would not be one of them. 

It can add no value because he sees no value in it. 

Sometimes at night he stays awake. Listening in the darkness. Hoping that he will hear a whisper of something different. Something new. Something changing. 

Something has to change. 

Maybe it will be him.

April 1912.

The sun is hot and blinding as it glints off the Titanic’s hull. Megumi lifts his hand to shield his eyes from the glare, not caring to take in the ship before him. There’s only so many times one can see the next pinnacle of luxury before they all begin to look the same. 

Around him a throng of people ooh and ahh at the piece of metal in front of them. Postures artificially straight and smiles painted on.

“I thought this ship was supposed to be impressive,” Megumi mutters. 

“Dear, your tastes might be beyond champagne at this point.” Kamo chides in a way that can be read as congenial on the surface, but Megumi knows is at his expense. “Titanic is the greatest vessel the ocean has ever seen.”

“She’s no bigger than Lusitania,” Megumi challenges, “And definitely smaller than Carmania.”

His father glares at him, but does not say anything.

“Neither of those ships can match Titanic’s luxury though,” Kamo insists. 

The two of them could argue about nothing until the Earth stopped turning. A porter spares him from that fate for now, pulling Kamo’s attention to ask for clarification on which of the luggage should be taken to their stateroom and what of it won’t be needed until they reach New York and can go into the storage compartment below deck. 

Kamo of course cannot be bothered to speak to him, so Todo takes over on Kamo and Megumi’s behalf. Money is exchanged and verbal instructions on where their stateroom is are obtained. 

The gangway is lowered and at Kamo’s insistence, they are the first to walk along it and into the belly of the beast. Once inside, Todo takes over. Guiding Kamo, Megumi, Toji, and the handful of porters and maids tasked with bringing their luggage aboard through the First Class decks and towards their staterooms.

The smell of fresh paint on the walls and varnish on the floors consume his senses. He cannot take a step forward without being reminded of the fact that his feet are the first to trod this path. Dust has not had time to settle in any secret corner. Cracks in the walls bound to come with time will not form for years. 

When Todo opens the appropriate door, the interior is as unsurprising as the rest of the ship. Lavish and intricate in its finishes, but sterile and void of personality the way a hospital is. 

Megumi attempts to remedy this by hanging a painting from an artist he met the last time he was in France that will bring some much needed color to the room. It had been such a quick exchange, he’d forgotten the man’s first name. The scrawling of his family name – Picasso – in the corner was all Megumi had to identify it with. It’s a fascinating piece. The use of line and limited color while still managing to be brimming with emotion pulled Megumi’s attention from the moment he first laid eyes on it.

Before he can get within ten feet of the wall, Kamo has already snatched the frame from his hand and given it to the porter with instructions that its final resting place should be the ship’s incinerator. 

Megumi doesn’t say another word while they unpack, sequestering himself to the bedroom closet to avoid having to spend another moment in the same room as his fiance.

He’s about to unfasten the final suitcase when he hears the sound of heavy footsteps trodding to the door and their owner letting himself inside. Megumi doesn’t need to turn around to know that the voice he hears will be Toji’s.

“You could at least pretend to be pleasant company.”

Megumi doesn’t dignify him with the attention stopping his task would require. He keeps his focus on the clothes in front of him, gritting out his reply to the socks and undershirts he’s sorting through.

“Apologies if my natural resting face is unpleasant.”

“Don’t get smart with me.” The eye roll radiates off of the other man. Even without sight, Megumi knows it’s there. “Your only job while aboard this ship and for the rest of your life is to be a pleasant fiance to Noritoshi. The financial future of our family depends –”

Megumi turns on him. Crystalline eyes remind the one who gave them to him that a flame that burns blue is the strongest of them all.

“You don’t need to remind me. It’s not like I’m given the opportunity to forget with you bringing it up at every turn.”

“Which I would not have to do if you acted as though you understood we are on the brink of financial ruin.” 

A situation whose blame rested staunchly on Toji’s shoulders.

From his birth as Zenin Toji, he’d been handed the keys to an easy life on a silver platter. The best schools, the best estates, the best food – the best of everything money could buy. A love match with Megumi’s mother, of the Fushiguro family, not just a traditional arranged marriage with someone in a family of comparable standing should have cemented Toji’s status as the next head of the Zenin family.

But what did it matter? The first thing he did with money he did nothing to earn was lose it all on his own.

Megumi’s mother had passed not long after she’d given birth to him, leaving Toji alone with a newborn and millions to be wasted away at every casino and bar and brothel (legal or otherwise) that knew a payday when they saw one.

Places he, as a Zenin, should have known better than to become a familiar face at. The head of the family forbade him from keeping the Zenin name for himself or his new son, but was more than happy to pass off the name change to Fushiguro as a widowed man longing for a way to keep his beloved wife’s memory alive. 

Rumor had it that Toji still maintained the same level of wealth and status he had as a Zenin, but anyone who was actually part of the family knew that Toji and Megumi were coasting by on name alone.

Kamo was their ticket out of living a lie. His family’s wealth was as deeply established as the Zenin’s and Noritoshi was their heir apparent. His father was counting on Megumi’s future union with Kamo to return the wealth that he’d lost them all those years ago.

“Don’t speak to me as though this is my fault. If you hadn’t gambled away everything after Mom died –”

His words are cut off, the air forcibly ejected from his lungs as Toji uses his forearm to slam Megumi into the wall by his throat. He presses down hard into Megumi’s larynx, not letting him take in another full breath. 

“Don’t you dare take that tone with me again,” Toji grits out. 

Megumi’s body wants to go into overdrive. To panic. To fight for its survival. To break free. But if this is his last memory, at least he’d be able to say that he died as he lived. Under the pressure of his father. There could be some meaning in that. 

He’s not that lucky.

Toji releases him. The air comes flooding back into his body, the primal relief as unwelcome as the sensation of the cool air passing through his nostrils. 

“I’ll see you at dinner.”

The man slinks away without another word, pulling the sleeves of his suit down from where they’d gone awry earlier. God forbid he look improper.  

Alone again, the panic his body wanted him to feel earlier settles into restlessness. He needs some air.

There’s a private deck just off the sunroom that Megumi retreats to. It overlooks the entirety of the starboard side of the ship.

Peoplewatching has its comforts. Thousands of lives he can wish that he was living instead of his own. It’s hard to take an interest in any of them today. They’re all smiling so politely, moving as though choreographed for a play. It’s hollow, shallow, and all too familiar.

Over toward the bow of the ship, a man about his age with hair light enough to reflect the pink of the sunset draws his attention. He’s standing on the rails, looking over the edge into the ocean, smiling and laughing so brightly it carries all the way to Megumi. Like a symphony rising all the way to the last row of the mezzanine. 

He’s accompanied by a woman with short dark hair, likely his wife, who seems just as excited to be aboard as he does. They laugh and smile and scream with a genuine elation that Megumi thought only existed in fiction.

Did other people really have things to be happy about that made them feel this much? Could they be so overwhelmed with something good they couldn’t contain it – even knowing that other people were watching?

“Megumi, darling.”

Megumi rolls his eyes involuntarily at the sound of Kamo’s voice, but turns politely toward him regardless.

“Shall we head to dinner?”

Kamo extends an arm to him. The choice of taking it is an illusion. But who is the magician’s assistant to ruin the trick? So he plasters himself to Kamo’s side to descend the Grand Staircase into the First Class dining room and begins counting down the minutes until he can be alone again. 

The two of them are seated at a large table. Toji and Kamo on his left prattle on about some Kamo family estate Megumi is set to inherit as soon as he and Kamo are married. On his right Gakugangi and Geto discuss some White Star board meeting they’d both attended recently. None of them pay Megumi any mind. 

“Sir, have you had a chance to look over the menu?” 

A waiter appears by Megumi’s side. Before he can open his mouth to respond, Kamo is already speaking.

“We’ll both have the roast duckling with apple sauce. And why don’t you bring a bottle of the Bordeaux for the table.” He hands the menus back to the waiter. Only after the man has already moved on to the next table does Kamo turn to him and ask, “You like duckling, don’t you, dear?”

And even though Megumi thinks that a whole bird is far too much food for dinner and despises the texture of apples when they aren’t fresh off the tree and red wine gives him horrible hangovers, he tenses his jaw until his back molars grind into each other and doesn’t say a word. 

At the table next to him there is a young boy. He reaches to grab the bread on his plate, a child making to quell his hunger. Before he can complete the motion, a sharp hand jabs out, smacking it from his hand. It doesn’t make a sound. 

And neither does the boy as he sits there stone-faced. Reminded yet again that having everything you could ever need right at your fingertips means nothing when those around you ensure that life is sustained only by their decree. 

Course after course is placed in front of Megumi, but he’s lost his appetite, pushing the food around on his plate until enough time has passed that a waiter will take it from him. A lump forms in his throat that he can’t swallow down no matter how hard he tries. 

This – this was Megumi’s world. 

It was talks of things that didn’t matter; that the people talking didn't even care about themselves. They only memorized the script to make others see them as important. Repeated ad nauseam to the same people at the same parties – a pattern as guaranteed as a broken record tracing the same flaw for eternity. 

It was money and status and pride above all else. Even the hunger of a child. 

It was cruelty and violence in all its forms. Merciless words and vindictive rumors and backhanded compliments and heartless theft and conniving plots all orchestrated with the arch of a brow.

And he hated it. 

He hated himself for being part of it. For knowing how to play the part as well as he did. For the sinking certainty that if nothing changed then this would be the rest of his life. 

Everything he could do in this life he’d already done. What is a life with no newness? No spontaneity? No surprise?

He has seen every corner of this Earth and there is no one and nothing Megumi loves on it. 

After dinner he breaks off, tears already streaming down his cheeks. Running and running until his lungs are on the brink of collapse. Overworked from being racked with sobs and still forced to carry him as far as he could run. 

There’s only so far he could go on a ship — in this prison. Completely and utterly trapped, just as he always was. 

There was never any way out. Why was there never any way out?

Well, there was always one way …

The thought should feel traitorous, but it’s the first true comfort he’s known in weeks. In months. In years. 

He puts a hand on the rail. The metal is cool. Soothing. That must mean something. The other hand joins it. The feeling spreads. 

A foot on one of the lower bars. He feels the breeze dance across his cheeks. He’s never known peace like this. 

Boldness overtakes him, swinging the other leg up and over the top rung. The rest of his body follows, the backs of his legs pressed into the outside of the railing. 

He lets his arms go straight, feeling the delicious space between his back and the railing. A harbinger of the ease that awaits him below. 

All he has to do now is just let go. 

Let go of his future. Let go of any lingering responsibility he feels toward self preservation. 

Let go, let go, let go, let —

“What are you doing?” 

He doesn’t recognize the voice that cuts through his thoughts. 

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Megumi spits the question over his shoulder, not deigning to look back at the stranger. 

“Hmm, sightseeing?”

“ What ?”

Is he insane? This stranger was going to pick now to walk in on him and he had the audacity to be telling jokes? Who did this man think he was?

Megumi twists his head around to get a better look.

And if this is the last face he ever sees, at least it’s a handsome one. 

Big brown eyes cradled by dimples on either side. Windswept pink hair, no doubt from being outside stargazing. A strong jaw offset by an easy smile. 

And … somehow familiar. He can’t quite place why though.

“Is that not what’s happening?” His head tilts like a confused puppy. It almost makes Megumi pity the stranger, as if he isn’t the one hanging off the stern of the ship. “Personally, I don’t see much sense in trying to go sightseeing at night, but to each their own. Anything you’ve got your eye out for though will probably be easier to see in the morning, so why don’t we just –” 

The man tries to move closer, but Megumi cuts him off with a shout.

“Stay away from me!”

“Take it easy.” The man puts his hands up in placation. “Everything’s gonna be alright.”

“Do I look alright?” Megumi snaps. 

“With all due respect, I don’t know you. This could be par for the course for you. Even if it is, who am I to judge?”

“What?”

Each time this man opens his mouth, the sentence never goes where Megumi’s expecting – he’s hard to predict.

“I don’t know what you’ve been through.” His voice is slow and easy. “But it must be something pretty serious to have you even thinking this way.” 

There’s no history between the two of them, but every fiber of Megumi’s being knows that this man is being honest. The man doesn’t lift his foot from the ground, sliding towards Megumi more than stepping. 

“Don’t come any closer. I’ll do it.” 

“You’re not gonna jump.” The stranger smirks, his certainty rattling now that it’s in direct opposition to Megumi’s plan. 

“And what makes you say that?”

The man shrugs, “You would’ve done it already.” 

Megumi feels his eyes go wide. He sputters to say something – anything – in response to his insolence, but he’s still talking.

“Besides, you seem like a decent guy. I don’t think you’d want to curse me with knowing I saw someone jump off the edge of the ship and couldn’t save ‘em.” 

Oh.

It’s a consideration he hadn’t needed a few moments ago. Before this man decided to come along and get himself involved. 

When it was just Megumi, this thought had been relief. Been comfort. Been true rest after a lifetime of fitful sleep.

But now there was someone else.

Could he really do that? Could he really curse this man in a way that he might never come back the same from?

Kindness like his was so rare. To reach out to a stranger like he had instead of turning a blind eye to the suffering of another person. To see it for what it was.

“So do you think that – just this once – you could give living another try? For me?” The man’s eyes are wide and waiting. Truly waiting for Megumi to make a choice.

The question echoes in his mind without end – a shout into a cave that becomes a whisper.

Megumi has nothing to live for. This life has made him cruel and unkind and not himself.

But was he cruel enough to curse another person like that? What kind of person is he? What kind of person does he want to be? Does he even want to be a person?

“Come on. Take my hand.”

Maybe not forever. But right now – just this once – he’s willing to kick the decision down the line. To try living just this one night for someone else.

Megumi takes the hand in front of him and allows the stranger to steady him as he climbs up and over the railing. He has one foot on either side of the metal when he loses his footing. For a moment, it feels like gravity might topple him towards the ocean, but the stranger’s grip is strong and true, yanking with all the force he has to keep Megumi on this side of life.

The man must be considerably stronger than he looks because he sends both of them toward the ground. Megumi takes the brunt of the fall, hitting the deck first as the stranger lands on top of him. 

This close, there is a museum’s worth of things to notice. There are faint freckles littered across his cheeks that definitely come from time spent basking in the sun. The flecks of honey and gold dancing across his irises. The blush pink of his hair that Megumi knows must be a perfect match to the color dusting his own cheeks right now. The pinch in his brow as he asks, “You alright?”

“Fine,” Megumi swallows. “You?”

Trying to catch his breath reveals to Megumi that this man is attempting to do the same, their stomachs and chests pressed firmly into each other. Their legs tangled and disorganized. The proper thing would be to move, but Megumi can’t bring himself to care about what’s proper right now.

Why go back to the cold side of the moon he knew before when the sun was peeking out the sides with the promise of an eclipse?

“I like the view.” 

The man’s eyes go molten, an active volcano oozing suggestion in the lava flow. There’s nowhere for Megumi to hide the fact that the man’s boldness makes his cheeks flush all the same, so he’s forced to face it head on.

“You know,” the stranger continues, “you never told me your name. Mine’s —” 

A startled yelp erupts from the man’s mouth. Megumi’s eyes readjust to see a man he knows all too well thread his fingers through soft pink locks and yank the stranger to standing by his hair. 

“Who the hell are you to think you can lay a hand on my fiance?” Kamo snarls, not loosening his grip on the stranger’s scalp, even as he writhes in pain.

Megumi scrambles to his feet, arms extended in front of him. “Kamo, please.” 

Kamo ignores him entirely, turning to address Todo instead. “Call the Master-At-Arms at once. This pathetic piece of slime deserves to be thrown off the back of ship for what he —” 

“That’s enough, Kamo.”

“It is enough when I say that it is.”

Logic isn’t going to work on Kamo when he’s like this. He needs to change tactics. Catch him off guard. 

“Dearest.” 

The pet name feels like bile on his tongue, but he swallows it. “It’s alright. Truly. I was leaning over the edge to take a closer look at the, uhm … the propellers and I slipped. And this man pulled me back. If he hadn’t been here I fear the worst may have …”

They say every lie is based on a kernel of truth and that’s what’s at the crux of this one. If it hadn’t been for this man — this stranger — going out of his way to do a kind thing for someone he owed nothing to, Megumi would be in a very different situation now. 

“The propellers,” Kamo sighs in exaggerated relief, “Naturally. Well, it seems that you’ve had quite the evening, so let’s get you back to the room.”

Kamo takes him by the shoulders, forcing him back towards their suite. When Megumi attempts to look over his shoulder for one final glance at his savior, Todo is blocking his sightline.

“Perhaps,” the bodyguard intercedes, “something for the young man?”

Kamo releases Megumi to procure his wallet. “Oh, right. A ten should be sufficient?”

“Is that all my life is worth to you?”

Megumi knew his life wasn’t worth much. It’s one thing for that to be a thought inside his own head, but for it to fall so easily from his fiance’s lips is another matter entirely. His eyes are flint, ready for any spark that spells a fight. 

“Poor Megumi isn’t happy.” Kamo meets his gaze and takes a moment to consider his options. Something villainous settles over his demeanor as he turns to the stranger. “Perhaps our good samaritan here could join us for dinner tomorrow?” 

“Sure. I’ll be there.”

“There. Everyone's happy now, yes?”

Without waiting to hear if this answer is genuinely satisfying to Megumi, Kamo is already guiding him back toward their room. He chuckles to himself, thinking about the free entertainment he’s secured for tomorrow evening, watching as this man undoubtedly makes a fool of himself in First Class.

The hallways blur and fade into themselves, any pattern or internal logic elusive to Megumi’s wandering mind. Kamo deposits him unceremoniously in the dressing room, giving him space to prepare for bed. Taking off his clothes is a somber vigil as he reflects on what would have been the last thing he ever wore if that man hadn’t interceded. 

Who was he? Involving himself in Megumi’s heartache when he could have just as easily pretended he never saw it. Chalked the whole thing up to a stranger indulging in too many libations and been on his way. 

Instead he chose to face it head on. Not looking away. Not backing down. 

Megumi plays on repeat the way the bitter night’s cold dissipated instantly the second the man’s warm body was on top of his. What the weight of him felt like. The experience of being pressed so firmly to another person and not wincing away from the contact. Of wanting to lean in. Of wanting —

The door creaks behind him. Megumi looks up through the mirror in front of him at the vanity to see Kamo entering the room. His shoulders inch closer to his ears, the muscles in his back straining and bracing for what’s to come. 

Kamo’s hands are clasped behind his back, the posture oddly formal for just the two of them. What’s he hiding? 

Each step Kamo takes closer is another moment Megumi has to fight down the urge to run as far away as he’s able.

“I know things between us haven’t always been tender. Nothing like the love your father and late mother shared.”

It’s disorientingly honest. Sentimental. Makes sense that the only time he’s willing to show this side of himself is when they’re alone.

“I was going to wait to give you this when we docked in New York. But I figured this might be an apt occasion to remind you of the way my heart beats for you.”

The secret hidden behind Kamo’s back is one no longer as he places around Megumi’s throat a necklace. The weight of it startles him, his muscles not anticipating the engagement necessary to prevent his head from spilling over as it’s fastened. 

It’s not until he feels Kamo fasten the clasp that he looks at himself in the mirror again.

“Oh … Kamo … it’s …”

Currently sitting around his neck is a blue diamond the size of a baseball. It’s carved into the shape of a heart, the candlelight catching and twinking like aurora. The chain itself is not really a chain, but a string of pure white diamonds, matching the halo around the necklace’s main stone. 

“Isn’t it exquisite? Sixty carats of pure blue diamond. They call it Le Coeur de la Mer.”

“The Heart of the Ocean.” 

His voice is a whisper as he parrots the translation, still unable to comprehend the masterpiece touching his skin right now.

“I see all that time in France did you some good.”

Kamo’s jibe can’t phase him, too lost in his own reflection. Through the mirror, he looks back and back and back into the candlelight flickering through the blue diamond. 

An old wives tale he read in school comes to mind. People who claimed to be able to tell the future by looking at candlelight in a mirror until they found either a coffin or a man. He thinks of trying now to figure out what his future will hold. But the cuts of the diamond twist the candlelight more than intended, a menagerie of a thousand coffins swimming about inside the deep blue of the stone.

“This is the kind of wealth I can offer you. The kind of life only I can provide. You understand that don’t you?”

The anchor weight of the necklace drops to Megumi’s gut.

He’d known this gift hadn’t been a kindness, rather a collar. A reminder.

“Of course.” 

“Excellent.” Kamo kisses his cheek and unfastens the necklace, no doubt going to return it to the safe.

Still though, Megumi can’t get the vision of the coffins out of his head. 

What would his own funeral have been like if that man hadn’t been there? There wouldn’t have been a body to bury or ashes to spread. Would anyone have even come? Does he know anyone that he wished would have?

When giving his eulogy, what would his life have been reduced to? He hadn’t accomplished anything in his nineteen years on Earth because he didn’t do anything. Things happened to him – happened around him – but he didn’t do anything to change them. How could he?

Weariness overtakes him and forces him to bed, even though he knows sleep will not come. Megumi rolls over on his side. Half asleep, Kamo wraps an arm around his waist. Uses it as a perch to pull himself closer — engulfing Megumi in the heat of his body.

It’s not the heat of a summer’s day or a roaring fire on a winter’s night, but a fireplace poker fresh out of the embers forced down his throat. The smoke of the fire clouds his lungs, his vision, his thoughts. 

It’s a heat he can’t outrun. Flaking, peeling, molting skin he wishes to be able to shed like the snake this world makes him.

Tossing and turning all night does nothing to quell it. A fit of restless dreams does nothing to quell it. Trying to conjure the sea of coffins again does nothing to quell it. 

The haze doesn’t lift even as he feels the fresh sea breeze across his cheeks the next morning as Captain Gojo Satoru leads some acquaintances of Kamo’s on a private tour of the Titanic.

Kamo woke him before the sun this morning in anticipation of the grand walkthrough of the ship he’d arranged. So certain Titanic would be a thing worth noting in history. Megumi was certain that six months from now, everyone on this tour will have forgotten Titanic’s name and replaced it with whatever new pinnacle of luxury they’re all going to show their wealth off on next. 

Gojo is talking animatedly with Geto Suguru, the lead designer of Titanic, as they explain to Nanami Kento, a recent addition to their little circle as he only recently came into his wealth, why some bearing on the ship was designed the way it was.

Toji lingers with Gakugangi Yoshinobu, owner of White Star Line, toward the rear, the two of them whispering while looking at everything around them down the bridge of their noses.

The tour is not entirely a waste, even if it was Kamo’s idea.

Hearing Geto speak about the thought that went into making Titanic – into making her unsinkable – gives Megumi pause. Forces him to buy into the reverence that the others clearly feel for the pieces of iron they’re standing on more than he wants to.

At one point, Geto and Gakugangi get into an argument about the ship’s speed. The White Star Line is greedy for any additional headlines that can elevate Titanic past the godhood she currently possesses. Which, to Gakugangi, apparently means forcing the ship to not drop below maximum speed until they reach New York – by his calculations – a full day early.

Geto, the eternal voice of reason Megumi is learning, reminds him that the ship will still arrive early even if they hold off on opening the final few boilers. The Captain is on his side as well, offering his decades of expertise that tell him to not run the ship at full speed the whole voyage as a boon to Gakugangi to save his company from potentially straining this new marvel and forcing it off the line for repairs prematurely.

It ends with Geto conceding to allow Gojo to order his crew to open the last four boilers with a grimace he makes no effort to conceal. And a reminder to Megumi that logic means nothing to men with coins over their eyes keeping them from seeing it.

Gojo is doing his best to cheer Geto up, teasing and pestering until the man finally smiles again which makes him smile in turn. By the time they reach the boat deck, the weight of the ordeal is forgotten, Geto sounding much more himself as he explains to Megumi the placement of the lifeboats. 

Megumi has always been good with numbers. And the ones Geto has given aren’t adding up.

“Geto,” he interrupts, “how many souls did you say were on board?”

“Well, between passengers and crew, twenty-two hundred.” 

Twenty-two hundred. 

“That’s what I thought…” he trails off.

“Is something wrong?”

“Based on the amount of lifeboats I’ve seen and the amount of people you said each one holds, there’s only enough room for a little over a thousand. Are there more lifeboats hidden below deck?”

Geto sighs heavily. A somber look overtakes his face, like paint spreading across a watercolor portrait. 

“Your math is correct. Believe me, I’m very familiar with the equation. I tried to explain it to Gakuganji on several occasions, but he and the rest of the Board of White Star Line thought the extra lifeboats made the deck look too cluttered. So I was overruled.” 

Did their greed truly know no bounds? Aesthetics valued higher than basic safety protocols. That’s less than half the people on this ship who would be able to evacuate in the event of a crisis. 

Even if sinking wasn’t a concern with how well Geto had constructed the hull, there were countless other things that could go wrong on a ship. A kitchen fire, an outbreak of disease, a murderer on the loose – any number of things that could warrant the evacuation of the ship while it still functioned soundly.

Would it be only women and children, with all the men left behind? Megumi looks around him, surrounded by nothing but other men. No, he bets when it comes down to it, they’d encourage the stewards to seat the lifeboats based on class in order to ensure they each had higher chances of being on one. 

“There’s no need to worry though. I’ve built you a good ship, Megumi. She’ll make it to New York in one piece.” He smiles warmly with a comfort so genuine, Megumi almost doesn’t recognize it for the truth that it is. The answer you seek spoken in a language you can’t comprehend. 

“Right,” Megumi nods. 

Geto claps him gently on the shoulder then keeps walking to catch up with Gojo. 

Kamo takes their whole assemblage to lunch. The conversation is dull and dry and easily forgotten. 

Each time the door opens and a new person enters the Dining Room, Megumi catches himself hoping for a moment that the stranger has come early to save him from this world once more. The hope buoys him through this meal and onto the First Class decks where he can look over the water and hope in peace, without having to pretend to be interested in things he couldn’t care less about.

This enigma of a man he’s spoken to for no more than five minutes in his whole life has captivated his consciousness in a way Megumi has never felt before. Even his name is a mystery to Megumi.

A mystery his soul craves all the answers to. One he wants to understand with the authority of a scholar and the curiosity of a novice and the reverence of a monk.

What would it be like if Megumi could speak to him again? Could reach out a hand to him now? 

In this moment of solitude, he allows himself to dream in the daylight. To pretend that when he turns his palm up, he can feel the stranger taking it.

It’s silly. It’s irrational. It’s –

“Hey there, stranger.” 

No longer a figment of his imagination. 

There are fingers interlaced with his. Fingers he’s felt before as they pulled him off the edge and back to life. 

He looks to his right and the stranger from his daydream is standing right beside him. Holding his hand. He’s even more beautiful in the daylight. The sun caressing his softness like a halo made just for the angel by his side.

Megumi is breathless. Completely and utterly dumbfounded.

“How did you get up here?” 

“I walked?”

Megumi cocks a brow at him, recalling his propensity toward answering the version of the question he wants to, not the one Megumi actually asked.

“You know what I mean.” 

“Well, handsome.” 

It rolls off his tongue so easily, but it doesn’t stop the tips of Megumi’s ears from reddening or his throat from running dry. Is he like this with every man he comes across? Or is this a special boldness Megumi is the only recipient of?

Neither of them had let go of the other’s hand. Maybe that meant something?

“At the end of the day, the only thing separating you high rollers from the rest of us peasants in Third Class is a couple of doors. And not very well guarded doors, I might add.”

He bumps his shoulder into Megumi’s and laughs. Nothing so contained as a chuckle, but true laughter that shakes his belly and crinkles his eyelids. Megumi can’t match him, only offering a polite nod in return.

His laughter subsides, but the man is still staring at him. It’s not quite expectant. Maybe curious? 

“I never did get your name though. Mine’s Itadori Yuuji, in case you were wondering.” He extends the hand that isn’t holding Megumi’s to be shaken. 

“Fushiguro Megumi.” 

He takes Yuuji’s hand, squeezes it once and shakes it twice. Limbs tangled and intertwined on another deck of this ship. The warmth of Yuuji’s grip makes him want his hands everywhere. Makes him want things he knows he can’t have. 

Megumi musters all of his willpower to let go of Yuuji’s hands, straightening his shirt and jacket. 

“Well, thank you again for your actions yesterday evening, Itadori —”

“Come on. You don’t have to be so proper with me, Megumi .”

His given name linger’s in Yuuji’s mouth, each syllable being savored. It’s a degree of familiarity that bristles him from people he’s known for years but wishes he didn’t. 

When it’s Yuuji, he doesn’t mind so much.

He can’t believe he doesn’t mind so much actually. Because he should. This is the second time he’s speaking to this man.  

“I’m not interested.” Megumi crosses his arms over his chest.

It’s unconvincing to his own ears, and to Yuuji’s it seems because he doesn’t let him off the hook. Not allowing Megumi to break his gaze. 

“Why? You scared?” Yuuji goades. 

“I’m not scared of you,” Megumi retorts.

“I didn't say you were.”

Yuuji matches him instantly. Not backing down from the challenge he’s set forth. Megumi finds himself wanting to meet it. Not wanting to be left behind by this man. 

“Yuuji.” And there is not a flush creeping up the back of Megumi’s neck right now. Absolutely not. “You are by far the most stubborn, insolent, persistent person I’ve ever met.”

Yuuji tsks his tongue. “Is that any way to talk about the man who saved your life?”

There’s a degree of lightness in the question. Megumi knows he’s being teased. It’s not that he minds. Especially because he can tell Yuuji holds no malice in it. 

But this was the first time anyone else had brought it up since it happened. Kamo and Toji certainly weren’t going to mention it. And it was well above the station of someone like Todo. It should be above Yuuji’s. But things like status didn’t seem to matter much to him. 

People seem to be important to Yuuji not because of what they can offer him. Rather there is something innate in being a human that makes each person worth his time. Worth his curiosity.

“I should … I did want to thank you for that.” Megumi’s voice comes out hoarse, but Yuuji’s rapt attention makes it easier to keep going. “For how you acted. In saving me and then with the others. It’s not like I know anything about actual suffering, you must think I’m so –”

“Now hold on a second.”

Yuuji interrupts him, putting a hand on both of Megumi’s shoulders as he turns him to face Yuuji fully. It’s instant. Disorientating. Intoxicating. 

“That’s not what I think. No one does what you thought about doing if they don’t really mean it. So ever since I saw you last night I’ve been…” Yuuji’s eyes turn glassy. “Well I’ve been trying to imagine what could have happened to make you feel like that was your only way out.” 

Who is Megumi to be the recipient of such care? Such tenderness? Such gentleness? He does not deserve it – has done nothing to earn it.

And yet Yuuji is real . The feeling of both of his hands gripping Megumi’s shoulders grounding him in the present. 

Letting him know that even if nothing about this feels real, it is real. 

“It’s … I – the world I’m from is so meaningless.” Megumi doesn’t know what makes the words start, but Yuuji is hanging onto each one. “They want me to spend the rest of my life stuck doing the same pointless things with the same pointless people. It sounds so small when I say it outloud. It’s hard to explain.”

“You don’t have to prove anything to me. I believe you.”

He says it so simply. With a conviction that makes Megumi more sure of himself than he has in weeks.

“That man from last night, he said he was your fiance?”

“Yes.” Megumi answers plainly. “Why do you ask?”

Yuuji bites the inside of his cheek as he thinks.

“You said that you felt stuck because your life has already been decided for you. But maybe if you don’t marry him, you’ll feel unstuck.”

“I wish it were that simple,” Megumi sighs, staring out across the ocean.

“Who says it isn’t?”

Megumi sucks a breath in through his teeth, not daring to tear his eyes from the sea. Afraid his willpower won’t be enough to prevent himself from doing something drastic if he looks over and Yuuji is telling the truth.

Sunlight dances across the water. Catching and lilting and twirling as the ship’s forward motion carves a new path forward.

What would it be like for Megumi to take a new path forward? If he did, would Yuuji really want to walk it with him?

Had he been telling the truth?

At his side, Megumi hears the telltale sound of graphite on paper. He glances over and Yuuji has produced a small sketchbook from a coat pocket and is sketching a family on one of the lower decks. A young girl toddling back and forth between two men Megumi assumes are her fathers. It fills his heart with a longing he doesn’t quite understand. Looking toward Yuuji only makes the feeling grow.

He tries to get a better look at Yuuji’s work, the lines and figures hidden by his drawing hand. Curiosity overtakes him, snatching the book from Yuuji’s hands and beginning to thumb through.

“These are … really excellent.”

“You think?”

Megumi nods, lips slightly parted. Yuuji’s work is mesmerizing – even in what is clearly just his sketchbook. A place to practice technique and be messy.

Even his imperfection contains multitudes.

There are whole words in the scenes he’s captured. Constellations of friends at a dinner table together. Hands pointing towards something in the distance. Bodies en route to somewhere unknown. 

Megumi flips the page again and is met with a nude portrait of a man, lying supine with some ocean or lake in the background. The model is captured with such an intimate tenderness. Megumi feels his stomach drop.

“Is this your – uhm …”

“Oh, no! No, no, no – nothing like that.” Yuuji is quick to correct the assumption and Megumi feels like he can breathe again. “He’s just someone I met last time I was in Paris.” 

“You’re from Paris?”

“Not originally, no. Just somewhere I was spending time recently. That’s where all the great artists are right now.” He wears his heart on his sleeve and the joy it holds is palpable. “Got to practice with a bunch of them too. Renoir, Matisse —”

“You painted with Matisse?”

Megumi had more than a few of Matisse’s recent works. Kamo despised them, but Megumi found them fascinating. The use of color, the composition, the sense of exploration – he could stare at them for hours and not get bored once.

And the way Yuuji’s eyes sparkle just a little bit brighter at the mention of the artist’s name, Megumi can tell that he does too. 

“Sketched more than anything else.” Yuuji takes the sketchbook, making certain their fingers graze as he flips it to some of the earlier pages. “These ones here.” 

Megumi takes in the work in front of him. There’s clearly some of Matisse’s influence, but the style is undeniably Yuuji’s.

“You have a gift,” Megumi breathes, his voice transfixed.

Yuuji’s smile is blinding.

“Thank you. Means a lot coming from someone as worldly as you.” He knocks their shoulders together again. The small bids for physical contact not going unnoticed by Megumi.

“I wouldn’t consider myself worldly.”

“Oh, come on,” Yuuji encourages. “Don’t sell yourself short. I’m sure you’ve got stories from all over. Seen things the rest of us could only ever dream about.” 

“My life isn’t all that interesting,” he deflects. 

“I think you’re pretty interesting, Megumi.” His voice is honey dripping straight off the comb.

Megumi scoffs. “You just think I’m pretty.”

“Can you blame me? I’ve got eyes.”

And oh is Yuuji using those eyes. Taking in Megumi’s whole face. Finding purchase on his cheeks, his lips, his chin, his throat, the bridge of his nose. He settles on Megumi’s eyes, full and overwhelmed by all that he’s capable of wanting.

If Megumi were a different man, maybe he’d be able to do something about it.

“But fine,” Yuuji relents, changing the subject. “If you don’t have any good stories right now – which I don’t think is entirely true, but whatever – what kind of stories would you like to have?”

“Huh?”

“Yeah. If you could go anywhere, be anyone, do anything, what would you do?”

No one’s ever asked him that before.

His life affords him so many options, but never a chance to take them. 

But if this is the Ship of Dreams, maybe Megumi is allowed to dream too. Just for a little while.

“Well, I’ve always wanted to be a writer.”

He worries it might be a silly dream, but Yuuji nods in rapt attention. It helps propel Megumi forward toward this imaginary future. 

“To research how birds migrate or how bears hibernate by living in a forest for months and put it all in a book. Or maybe an artist – going and painting places not on any map. Or maybe I’ll run off and join the circus.” He punctuates the thought with a small chuckle.

“That one’s not as fun as you’d think,” Yuuji warns. “Nobara and I spent four months working on Coney Island – I painted caricatures and she danced in one of the shows. At first it was everything you’d expect, meeting lots of new people, sneaking off to ride the rollercoasters at night, messing with tourists. But then one night, we’d had a little too much to drink and ran into a horde of clowns right after a rough show.”

He almost can’t continue, overcome with a fit of laughter. 

“We had nightmares for weeks . Eventually we decided that enough was enough and we moved on.”

“Where’d the two of you go from there?”

“We’d had our fill of New York so we took a train all the way out to Wisconsin. Halley’s Comet was gonna be extra visible out there since there weren’t any big cities and we decided we wanted to see it so we went. It was one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.”

Yuuji gets quiet, lost in a memory. Megumi watches him, almost able to experience the moment himself watching it play across Yuuji’s face. 

“You’ve lived so many exciting stories, Yuuji. I’m jealous. I wish I could be like you.”

“You can though.”

Yuuji is nodding and smiling with a gravity that could pull anything into his orbit. He sounds so genuine, Megumi almost believes him.

“We’ll do it together. We’ll get off in New York and spend the day in Coney Island. I’ll take you on all the rollercoasters and we’ll drink cheap beer. I’ll even paint your portrait for you. Your hair’d take up half of it though,” Yuuji teases.

He reaches out for Megumi’s hair, taking some of the dark strands between his fingers. Megumi leans into Yuuji’s touch before he realizes he’s done it.

“Ok. Sure,” he responds flatly.

“You don’t sound convinced. Do you need more convincing?” he asks, his tone dripping with possibility at all the shapes convincing could take.

Megumi rolls his eyes, not taking the bait.

“Oh, please. It’s not like it’ll actually happen. It’s still nice to imagine though.”

“No, I’m serious, Megumi.” Yuuji is almost indignant as he intertwines his fingers with Megumi’s. “Come on, we’ll start right now.”

“What?”

Without any preamble, Yuuji begins guiding him toward a less crowded spot on the railing. His grip is firm enough to not lose him as they make their way through the crowd, but never searing. Every few paces he looks back to ensure that Megumi is still there. Megumi can’t tell if it’s a trick of the light or if Yuuji’s eyes really do get brighter once he re-confirms that Megumi is ok.

Once he finds an acceptable spot, he straightens the way a professor would.

“Lesson number one for how to survive a day at the circus. Spitting.”

Megumi’s brow furrows. “What does spitting have to do with the circus?”

“Because standing on the pier and spitting on the tourists down below is hours of fun.”

Yuuji rears back and launches a sizable loogie off the edge of the ship.

“Now you try.”

Megumi does his best to recreate what he just saw Yuuji do, leaning back as far as his balance will let him before forcing all the spit in his mouth out. It doesn’t work quite like he’s expecting and saliva dribbles out of the corners of his mouth.

“That was pathetic.” Yuuji laughs. He’s teasing but it doesn’t feel pointed or mean. “Try this.” 

Yuuji readjusts his posture slightly. His hands move over Megumi’s body with an authority that makes it hard to focus. 

“You really gotta hawk it back.” Yuuji screws up his face and makes a sound that sounds like a cat hissing. Megumi tries to mimic him, making a noise he’s certain no human person should be capable of. 

Behind him, a small cough sends a shiver down Megumi’s spine.

“Father.” Megumi straightens, spinning around to face the man he already knows is behind him. “You remember Itadori Yuuji.”

No words pass through Toji’s lips, but his opinion is unmistakable in the single glance he spares Yuuji before grimacing and continuing on his way. The temperature is several degrees colder in his wake.

“Sorry about him, he’s –”

The sound of the Dinner Horn interrupts him, taking the moment with it. Everyone on the decks around them begins to move with a collective purpose. One Megumi knows he can’t ignore.

“Well, I should go get dressed for dinner.”

“Why? I think you look dashing.”

The praise kisses Megumi’s cheeks like the sun. He does his best to brush it off.

“Please, this is nowhere near formal enough for dinner.”

Yuuji’s face contorts, a small “Oh” the only utterance of whatever realization he’s come to.

“What?”

“Oh, nothing. It’s just this is the most formal thing I own. We do things a little differently down in Third Class so I …”

Megumi has an idea. An ill advised idea. A truly reckless, asinine, stupid –

“Come on.” 

He can’t help himself.

“What?” Yuuji’s nose wrinkles in confusion. Megumi wants to trace the line it makes across his face.

“You heard me,” he orders.

Megumi takes Yuuji by the hand and starts walking before he can change his mind. Leading him down several hallways until he finds the door to his and Kamo’s suite.

It’s unlikely Kamo will be in right now – never needing to change for dinner because he never leaves home in anything less than formal dress – but Megumi pokes his head in first just to make sure. The only life inside is a roaring fire heating the room.

He leads Yuuji in, watching his eyes take in all the splendor that’s in front of him. Watching Yuuji experience something beautiful makes Megumi see the beauty in it a little more himself.

There are more suits in the closet than Megumi could hope to wear during the duration of this voyage. He takes the time to find one in particular that had been custom made for him in Italy. Double checks to make sure it has his initials embroidered onto the inside of the jacket sleeve like he recalled. Then brings it out for Yuuji.

“It might be a tight fit,” Megumi offers, making his way back to the living room and handing the suit to Yuuji. “You’re bigger than me.”

“Is this your way of calling me strong?” 

“Just try it.”

Yuuji obeys easily, slowly unbuttoning his shirt in the middle of the living room. 

Temptation like this has not been seen since Eve in the Garden. His body is warm with the exertion of keeping his muscles in place. Megumi wants to reach out, to touch, to –

“I’m going to go get dressed.” 

He runs away and hides in the closet, breathing heavily once the door is closed behind him. His heart is beating out of his chest – threatening to leap from his throat and bare every secret desire to Yuuji.

The machinations of dressing for dinner do nothing to quell his blush – thoughts of Yuuji on the other side of the door vibrating through him. There’s nothing else for him to do. No other task he can hide behind. So he places a hand on the doorknob turns it slowly –

The sight of Yuuji standing before him sucks the air from his lungs.

Neither of them say anything for a moment. Each committing the other to memory.

“Wow,” Yuuji breathes. There are new constellations waiting to be named in the stars in Yuuji’s eyes when he looks at Megumi. “You – you’re so beautiful.”

His body forgets any half baked progress he’d made in pulling himself together — cheeks crimson and engaged in lifting his lips toward smiling. 

“You don’t clean up half bad yourself.” 

It’s a poor recreation of Yuuji’s truth, but it’s all he can force past his throat and into the charged air between them. Honesty and freedom are old friends to Yuuji but strangers to Megumi, just being introduced for the first time by the man in front of him. 

“Megumi, if I didn’t know better I’d say that almost sounds like a compliment.” Yuuji’s voice is low and lilting. He moves in, encroaching on Megumi’s space. For the first time, his personal space feels too empty when he’s the only one in it. 

“Come on.” Megumi deflects. “Dinner waits for no one.”

Yuuji puts an arm out for Megumi to take. More than anything else in his whole life Megumi wants. 

Wants to reach out. Wants to touch. Wants to accept. Wants it all with Yuuji specifically. 

Training overtakes desire. Megumi rolls his eyes and begins his journey to the dining room. He doesn’t need to look to know that Yuuji is right behind him. 

Standard sconces are replaced with glittering chandeliers as they descend the staircase and make their way toward the dining room proper. People mill about, exchanging soft whispers about whatever gossip could have possibly transpired since lunch. 

Megumi watches Yuuji take it all in — the intricacies of the molding, the abundance of silverware and china, the fashion of the elite. All the money and finery in the world pales in comparison to the smile of the man at his side. 

At a distance, Megumi sees their group, and with a sinking feeling in his gut, he makes his way toward them. 

“Kamo, I’m sure you remember Itadori Yuuji.”

Kamo nods politely toward Yuuji before his mind catches up and remembers who he’s seeing and why. 

“Surprised to see you here Itadori.” He inspects Yuuji with a fine tooth comb. His eyes linger on the sleeve of Yuuji’s suit jacket. 

“Nice suit,” he grits out, shooting the words like a poison arrow, lodging true and hitting Megumi right between his ribs. 

He noticed. 

Gojo and Geto float in on air, ushering their whole assemblage into the dining room proper. Kamo had arranged for their reserved table to seat twice as many tonight, making them a full dozen. No doubt an attempt to gather an audience for the entertainment he had planned for the evening – hushed laughter and loaded glances at Yuuji’s expense.

But Yuuji could be rather charming when he put his mind to it. 

Megumi takes his mandated chair next to Kamo. Yuuji goes to take the seat on Megumi’s other side, but Todo directs Yuuji to a chair on the opposite side of the table. Placing him between Nanami and Gojo. The spot Megumi had hoped would be Yuuji’s is filled by Geto instead.

Champagne is poured. Pleasantries are exchanged. Hors d’oeuvres are paraded in.

“Kamo.” Nanami interrupts, glancing at the newcomer beside him. “Who’s our guest this evening?”

“Ah. This is Itadori Yuuji. He was of some assistance to my fiance yesterday evening so he’s joining us from Third Class.”

A dozen waiters set plates of oysters in front of each member of their party in perfect unison.

“You’ve seen oysters before, haven’t you Itadori?” His condescension is as backhanded as it is subtle – already he’s gawking wide-eyed to Toji and Gakugangi and anyone else whose eye he can catch. 

Yuuji doesn’t back down. 

“Yes sir, I stayed with a fisherman for a couple months to save up for a ticket to Ireland a few years back. If you’ve ever spent time in Connecticut, there’s a chance I might’ve caught some of the oysters you fine folks enjoyed.”

It’s good natured, yet still aware of his place. And genuine. Utterly genuine. It elicits a polite laugh from those around him. 

“And is Ireland your permanent home now?” Nanami asks. 

“I don’t tend to stay in one place for too long.” Yuuji smiles in a way that brings out the dimples near his eyes. “There’s too much of the world to see to ever settle down forever.”

“And your parents approve of this … lifestyle?” 

This time it’s Toji that interjects. Condescension just as backhanded as Kamo’s but far more subtle. A lifetime’s worth of practice on display.

“Well, sir, I never knew my parents. I was raised by my grandfather. He was the best of men. Told me stories of the world outside our hometown and all the things we’d go and do and see one day.”

There’s a catch in his voice, but he pauses sort of a full break. Megumi watches him put the pieces back together before continuing. 

“But he got too sick before he ever got the chance. After his funeral, I struck out on my own. It’s not always easy, but I’ve learned so much about myself and the world around me. I wake up everyday knowing that one thing I can do to make him proud is try to make each one count.”

To make each one count.

Is that where the magic lies? The secret in the grimoire of the sorcerer?

Life had taught Megumi how to count down. Counting down the hours until he could leave a party. Counting down the weeks until he was forced to marry Kamo. Counting down the years until it was all over.

But to count on . To count towards something. 

Was there a world in that?

“I’m certain your grandfather would be proud of you, Itadori.” Nanami offers gently. A warmth in his eye Megumi has never seen thaw out of him. 

Yuuji’s warmth demands the same of others. 

“I agree.” 

Megumi is the moon – a mere reflection of the light of the sun that is Itadori Yuuji. He raises his glass in a toast. He doesn’t need to wait long before the rest of the table follows suit.

“To making it count.”

To making it count.

A simple repetition. A silent benediction.

Everyone clinks their glasses politely together. Megumi’s eyes never leave Yuuji’s. 

They stay like that. Indelibly connected for the rest of the meal. 

Yuuji is magnanimous. Magnetic. Magnificent. Like melted butter into dough, he folds into everything. Everyone is enamored with him because how could they not be? 

No matter what story he’s telling or who’s trying to pull his attention away, Yuuji is always there to catch his eye. To nod diligently at the few things Megumi says aloud to the table. To smile in secret at the whispers just for him. 

“Gentlemen, care to join me for cigars and brandy?”

The other men at the table all nod and praise Kamo for his brilliance, as if this isn’t how they’ve spent every evening aboard Titanic. 

Kamo turns to Yuuji. “Itadori, I suppose you’re able to come if you wish.”

They both know he doesn’t mean it, it’s simply the courteous thing to say. 

“The offer is generous, Kamo. Truly. But I wouldn’t want to wear out my welcome. I should be headed back to third class.”

“Well, if you insist.” 

Kamo turns his attention to Megumi. He fights the urge to visibly squirm away from Kamo’s hand on his shoulder. “Megumi, darling. Will you be joining us?”

“I’m not much for cigars or brandy. Both give me a migraine. I think I’ll retire for the evening.”

Megumi stands. 

“Alright dear.” Kamo presses a quick kiss to Megumi’s lips. He blinks hard, as if this too isn’t part of the routine they’ve settled into. “Well, don’t wait up. I’ll see you in the morning.” 

“Goodnight.”

As soon as Kamo’s back is to them, Yuuji is by his side. Megumi guides them back to the grand staircase, trudging and meandering because he knows as soon as they cross this threshold Yuuji has to leave again. 

They make it to the bottom of the stairs. To the second landing. The grandfather clock built into the wall where a single set of stairs diverges into two ticks in his ear. Reminding him of all the seconds counting down until Yuuji is out of reach again.

“So, I suppose you’ll be headed back now.”

“I suppose so.”

“Do you have to?”

For a moment, it looks like Yuuji might relent. That he might stay. That Megumi won’t have to spend another evening feeling completely and utterly alone.

The moment passes.

“It’s alright. I know where I’m meant to be.”

You’re meant to be with me.

Yuuji takes Megumi’s hand in his, brings it to his lips, and presses a kiss into the top. 

It’s instant, the way his breath hitches and body forgets where they are. The way his mind feels like it’s entered a dream. The way the skin on his hand tingles and buzzes from the way it feels to have Yuuji’s lips on him. The way his heart pleads and begs and beats in his chest – demanding him to do anything to keep Yuuji by his side. 

When he finally collects himself, Yuuji is gone. Megumi pretends it doesn’t sting. They didn’t even get to say goodbye. He shoves his hands into his pockets, almost losing his grip on the thing he’s clutching in the –  

There’s something in his hand.

There wasn’t something in his hand a moment ago. Not before Yuuji …

Prying eyes are everywhere. Megumi doesn’t need sight to know that Toji is nearby as the rest of the men are gathering themselves to spend the rest of the evening consulting each other on shallow matters through a haze of cigar smoke. He can’t look at whatever Yuuji gave him here.

So he pretends as though nothing happened. Projects the story he wants other people to believe. Walks leisurely out of the main door and tucks himself into the first alcove he can find. Solitude and hope his only allies as he looks at what Yuuji handed him for the first time.

It’s a note. A small crumpled piece of paper. 

Megumi holds it close to his face, taking in the words scrawled across it in a handwriting that is undeniably Yuuji’s.

Wanna go to a real party? Meet me outside your door.

For a second time he is running through the halls of the Titanic. But this time he is running toward something. Toward someone.

Out of breath and red faced, he makes it to the door of his room. Yuuji is already there waiting, leaning against the doorframe. He turns at Megumi’s approach, blundering and loud like an elephant. Megumi should be embarrassed about his lack of tact, but he can’t think of anything except the smiling face of the man in front of him.

“There you are.”

Megumi feels the muscles in his face contort in a way they haven’t in a long time. 

He’s smiling. 

Megumi takes Yuuji’s hand without hesitation and lets himself be led down, down, down the stairs and into what looks to be a large dining hall. That may have been the room’s intended function at one time, but pub or dance hall feels like a more appropriate name for what the room has been transformed into. 

As soon as they cross the threshold, a woman with short brown hair shoves a pint of beer in each of their hands. It sloshes over the side of the glass a little bit, getting his hand sticky. Megumi can’t bring himself to mind. 

“Hey!” A woman calls to Yuuji, inserting herself at his side. “Finally got sent back down to all the steerage.” 

“Ah, you know I couldn’t stay away for long,” Yuuji teases back. Whoever this woman is, they're clearly close. Megumi fights down the urge to wrap an arm around Yuuji’s waist and pull him into his side.

“Nobara, this is Fushiguro Megumi. Megumi this is —”

“Kugisaki Nobara.” She extends her hand. Megumi mirrors the gesture and shakes. “I’m Yuuji’s best friend and fellow stowaway.” 

“Maybe don’t shout that part.” Yuuji shushes, shooting a protective glance around the rest of the room. The music and conversation is so lively, Megumi is convinced even the people next to them couldn’t have heard.

Kugisaki gives Megumi a once over. “So you’re the smoke show he can’t stop talking about?”

Megumi is powerless to stop his jaw from going slack or his cheeks from going rosy. He forces himself to look at Yuuji – to gauge his reaction to his friend’s omission. But he isn’t backing down. He’s proud and confident and Megumi takes a large sip of his beer.

“Come on, I’ll show you around,” Yuuji says. 

He takes Megumi’s hand – not to grab his wrist or yank him forward. No, Yuuji is gentle and good and wants Megumi by his side. So he laces their fingers together and walks them around to different tables at a pace that Megumi sets.

There isn’t a single soul in this room that Yuuji hasn’t already met. They each have such fascinating stories and Yuuji knows all of them by heart. The sisters who used the money from their parents' deaths to pay for these tickets to start a new life in America. The couple who is just married and sailing on Titanic for their honeymoon. The student who is taking a year to travel before beginning medical school in the fall.

Megumi wonders how he could possibly have come to know each of these people so well so fast. All of the people Megumi knew on board he’d known for years. They all attended the same parties and galas and dinners. The details of why they were gathered didn’t matter - he was always stuck in the same room with the same people.

It had been mere minutes between Yuuji finding out he’d be on board this ship and when Titanic set sail. Yet he knew these near strangers more than Megumi knew about most of the people they’d had dinner with that evening.

But this was simply the way Yuuji moved through the world. People and their stories and the experiences they could share – these things all mattered to him. 

Life didn’t pass Yuuji by. The artist that he was, he painted on air. Creating something beautiful in the world around him with his careful words and kind heart.

Around the third or fourth pint, the beer starts to get to Megumi’s head, making him wobbly on his feet. Yuuji threads an arm around his waist, holding him steadily. He smells of salt air and sweat and Megumi is powerless to avoid being swept up by the tides and drawn out to sea.

“Hey! Loverboys! Over here!”

It’s Kugisaki. She has a small table in the back corner cleared just for them. His body is already leading him there before he realizes he’s in motion again. Held and guided and kept from falling by Yuuji’s hand on his hip.

Tonight at dinner he’d been incredible – even though he’d been putting on airs to appease the people in Megumi’s world. He’s even more electrifying when he’s allowed to just be himself.

He and Kugisaki laugh and joke and jest with the authority only years of friendship can provide. Fits of giggles and escapades half remembered and funnier in the retelling. Megumi is truly content to listen to them talk and laugh with them.

Even though he doesn’t say much, he’s always included. Yuuji catching his eye. Kugisaki adding context to help him understand better.

At one point, Megumi is telling them about an artist he met last time he was in Italy. His voice doesn’t carry over the noise like theirs do so Yuuji wraps a hand around one of the legs of Megumi’s chair and uses it to pull him closer. He might as well be sitting in the other man’s lap, but Yuuji isn’t fazed in the slightest. Just sitting dutifully, waiting to hang on to Megumi’s every word. 

Kugisaki rolls her eyes. Megumi takes a big sip of his beer.

The rest of the story fades into the background, Megumi’s attention monopolized by being the center of Yuuji’s. 

He’s used to being in crowded rooms. Used to feeling alone in them. But to look to your side while the world around you keeps on turning and see someone else staring back at you. It makes his stomach twist and tongue tie and throat dry.

He reaches for his beer to quench his thirst, but his hand finds empty air where he’d set his glass down. It startles him, balance stuttering slightly at the unexpected outcome of his action. 

Yuuji giggles and juts his chin across the room. 

Over at the bar, Kugisaki is leaning over the counter, whispering conspiratorially with the barmaid. There are three pint glasses next to her, long forgotten as the two women flirt.

“This always happens,” Yuuji says with a small snort. “She’s always abandoning me to go off and flirt with whatever pretty girl she sees.”

“You’re one to talk,” Megumi challenges.

“I don’t know what you mean.” He crosses his arms over his chest, feigning pride. “I don’t flirt with just anyone. And I certainly haven’t been flirting with any women.”

“Have you been flirting with me?”

“You’re just now realizing that?”

The music shifts and recognition sweeps through the crowd. It must be known to Yuuji as well because the song drives him to his feet, pulling Megumi up alongside him. Sweaty bodies consume his periphery as Yuuji leads him to the center of the dance floor.

“I’ve never danced this before,” Megumi protests. He’d much rather watch Yuuji dance than risk embarrassing himself.

There’s a jolt down Megumi’s spine as Yuuji presses his lips to the shell of his ear. “I couldn’t care less. I just need you close.”

A hand on Megumi’s lower back presses his body flush with Yuuji’s. Their joined hands a compass, pointing toward wherever Yuuji leads. 

It’s a faster dance than anything Megumi is used to. Strings and drums drive the crowd forward like an engine. It’s all Megumi can do to match pace with the people around him. Any hope of extrapolating the next steps forgotten instantly as his brain busies itself with the far more important task of committing to memory what it’s like to be in Yuuji’s arms.

To laugh and smile and dance a breath away from life itself. 

There are those that consider faith a mystery, but Megumi is held in the arms of the answer. God is not a mythic being sitting on a cloud deciding the way the world works. It is the man in front of him, who can take a ghost on the edge of actualization and bring him back to life. 

Megumi is creation in the arms of its creator. It doesn’t shrink him or swallow him whole though. He grows to match it. Letting his laughter take up space, his arms flail wildly. 

Yuuji spins him and dips him and galivants with him around the room. To onlookers it might seem clumsy or amateurish, but to live in it – to experience it – is to know that truth is laced in each action. Megumi cannot lie to Yuuji here and he would never dream of being false with him.

He deserves more than that.

In seconds, in minutes, in hours, time passes. 

Not a moment of it goes by where they aren’t connected in some way. An arm. A hand. A glance. Gravity itself. All of it pulls them closer into each other.

The hallways are becoming more familiar now, even in the low light. Megumi leans heavily into Yuuji’s side, stumbling and tripping over his own feet, but never falling.

He recognizes the door Yuuji stops them in front of, but wishes he didn’t. 

This whole day had been about kicking further down the road the reality that he would eventually have to say goodbye to Yuuji tonight. But the longer he had him by his side, the less he wanted to let him go.

For a while the two of them are cradled in silence and bated breath. A shared knowledge that any word spoken is just a preamble to goodbye. Neither of them want to be the one to start. 

But Megumi will always be the first to break his own heart.  

“This is my stop.”

“Megumi.” 

In all directions as far as his eyes can see, there is only Yuuji.

Yuuji’s face a breath away from his. Yuuji’s pupils blown wide. Yuuji’s hand coming to rest on the doorframe above his head. Yuuji’s bicep just barely grazing Megumi’s cheek.

“I like it when you say my name.”

It’s the kind of confession one can only get away with under the cover of night and alcohol loosened lips, but that doesn’t make it any less true. 

Yuuji leans in slowly, whispers in his ear, “Megumi .” 

He can feel Yuuji’s voice in his whole body. Goosebumps prickling his skin, begging to be nullified by a warmth only Yuuji can give him. “Say it again.”

“ Megumi .” Yuuji grabs his waist with his free hand. Megumi hopes – knows – it’s hard enough to leave a bruise. A single look at Yuuji’s face confirms he’s hoping he leaves a mark too.

It would be so easy to bring Yuuji inside and let him check for himself. To let him see and mark and claim every inch of Megumi. 

Megumi’s hand is covering the door handle before he remembers Kamo is inside. Leaving him caught between the impossibility of doing something and the impossibility of doing nothing. 

Anyone could walk by – could see them – right now. But his desperation for Yuuji is so much louder. He’s willing to take him right here if it means getting to have him at all.

Yuuji’s voice pulls him back to the present – almost pouting as he asks, “Don’t I get a turn?” 

“ Yuuji .” 

He buries the word into Yuuji’s neck, sealing it with a kiss. Megumi feels Yuuji’s pulse quicken under his lips. Wants to feel it again. Again. Again. Yuuji’s soft sighs and stifled moans drawing Megumi back in for more. To feel his lips on Yuuji’s neck again. Again. Again.

“Kiss me,” Megumi pants, breaking his ministrations to look Yuuji in his amber, half lidded eyes.

Yuuji takes a finger and traces down Megumi’s neck, down his arm, down all the way to his wrist. He takes Megumi’s hand in his and kisses the top of it like he had earlier tonight.

“Ask me again when you’re sober.”

Yuuji puts a hand low on his back, a soft gasp passing Megumi’s lips at the contact. He opens the door for Megumi and lets him inside.

A whispered goodnight is all the warning Megumi has before the door is gently closed behind him and he’s alone again.

Except he doesn’t feel alone. 

How could he?

Not when he undresses to put his pajamas on and there on his hip is the outline of Yuuji’s fingertips bruised into his flesh. Not when Yuuji’s scent lingers on the collar of his shirt. Not when he can hum the song he danced with Yuuji to mere hours – minutes – seconds ago. Not when his lips can recall so easily what it was like to be pressed to the column of Yuuji’s neck.

A bold smile never leaves his lips as he collapses into bed because Yuuji is in everything and everything reminds him of Yuuji.

Kamo rolls over in his sleep to wrap an arm around Megumi’s waist. He’s still tipsy enough to convince himself that it’s Yuuji pressed up against him so he does. And for the first time in his life he leans into his fiance’s touch as he drifts off to sleep. 

He can’t quite tell if he’s still dreaming when his eyes flutter open again. Sunlight splashing across his face, refusing to be ignored. Kamo isn’t there with him, so maybe it is a dream. 

Any hope of waking up anywhere other than real life is crushed when Kamo is already waiting for him on the veranda for breakfast. He makes no motion to acknowledge Megumi’s presence. Just continues flipping through the paper. 

“Surprised to see you this morning, darling.”

“Oh? Why?”

Megumi does his best to remain casual – noncommittal. 

It wasn’t like Kamo to pick a fight. Baiting him for argument’s sake had a penchant for ruining everyone’s day and as such he didn’t push Megumi like this often. What could be worth doing it now?

“Well, rumor has it you spent last night passing yourself around Third Class like a common whore so I assumed you’d still be mingling with the rats.”

Kamo’s eyes never leave the paper – his voice never raising or faltering. Megumi knows better than to take that as a sign to let his guard down. Still water could be more dangerous than moving water.

Still water hid things. Still water could sneak up on you. Still water keeps secrets.

How could Kamo have found out? He wouldn’t have gone looking for Megumi himself. Not when he could be speaking with the other men. Then again, Megumi had gotten back after Kamo last night. So maybe he had gone himself. Maybe he’d sent Todo.

Whatever the method, the end result was the same. Kamo knew. 

He knew about where Megumi had been last night, which meant he knew about Yuuji, which meant -

“Cat got your tongue?”

He flicks the paper down, letting Megumi see his gaze for the first time. It’s white hot. Branding. Foreboding.

Megumi summons all his courage. Straightens in his chair. Meets Kamo’s gaze head on. Hides his trembling hands. Does everything he can to project a confidence he does not feel.

“I don’t see why my actions are any of your concern.”

“Of course you don’t.”

All pretence of civility is lost.

Fire erupts from Kamo’s throat like a dragon. A shout that spells the end of days.

There’s no longer a table separating Megumi from Kamo. It’s been flung across the veranda. China is flying. Broken glass crescendos all around him. The sound of solid wood slamming into tile floors deafening. 

Kamo leaves no time to recover. To hide. A searing hand crosses his cheek, the strike propelled by righteous anger. Strong hands grab Megumi by the collar and throw him to the ground. 

Megumi tries to shrink – to back away. His path is cluttered in all directions by hazardous detritus. He tries anyway – broken plates and mangled silverware digging into his palms. Feet catching on splintered wood as he tries to crawl away. He’s too close to the wall. He can’t escape.

At a pace that rivals glaciers, Kamo kneels down beside him. Megumi is caught between every instinct in his body telling him to run and his brain reminding him that fleeing is death. His breath comes short and labored. 

“Unlike you, I have a reputation that means something.” 

The words come out thin - the pulled string of a bow preparing to strike its prey true. 

“And I will not allow anyone or anything to tarnish a family name worth passing on. You’d do well to remember that, Kamo Megumi.” 

A particularly large shard of glass catches Kamo’s eye. He takes it between two fingers. Twirls it around.

Then brings it down hard on Megumi’s left ring finger.

And if there was ever a moment to scream this is it. 

His whole hand feels like it’s on fire – hot blood oozing and seeping everywhere. His pulse beats fervently – each thrum geysering more blood from the wound. The heat is electric. Piercing him like a lightning strike.

But he can’t bring the sound to pass his lips. Cannot force his body to release a noise louder than his own breath. 

“Funny thing.”

Megumi winces as Kamo pulls the glass shard from his hand, clutching instinctively around the wound. Pressing into it to stop the bleeding. Kamo doesn’t notice – too fixated on watching Megumi’s blood drip down from the shard he’d just plunged into him.

“I had Todo check the passenger manifest. There’s no record of an Itadori Yuuji purchasing a ticket for Titanic.”

He waits for Megumi to look up at him. Ensuring the last thing his prey sees before the arrow lands true is the eyes of the man who released the string of the bow. 

“Which means no one will know Titanic is one stowaway short if he doesn’t make it to New York.”

Kamo stands, departing the room like a ghost. Leaving in his wake a cold front and a terrified skeptic that can no longer deny the spectre of death in their presence.

Megumi shrinks into himself, ignoring the tears that fall and mix with the blood on his hands as he stands. Walking with no destination in mind, only a need to be anywhere but here right now.

He’d been so stupid to forget that this is the world he was from. That it would not release him from its grasp so easily. To think that his own happiness was worth the suffering of others. That it was even possible.

Selfishness was fine for others. Their greed rewarded even. But when Megumi tried to carve something out for himself it led him here. An altar prepared for sacrifice. A knife with a grip molded to Megumi’s hand. 

Megumi could lose Yuuji or the world could. 

And in a way, Kamo was forcing him to be selfish again. 

Because what was the world if Itadori Yuuji was not the best, brightest thing in it? He could not doom everyone else to that fate. His actions would not cost Yuuji his life. 

So he would do what he always did. He would play his part. He would acquiesce. He would fall in line.

Has it always hurt this much though? Has it always left him this hollow? This broken?

It’s hard to remember anything outside of Kamo’s voice in his ear. Loud and vengeful and thrumming.

If he doesn’t make it to New York. If he doesn’t make it to New York. If he doesn’t make it to New York. If he doesn’t make it to New York. He doesn’t make it to New York. He doesn’t make it to New York. He doesn’t make it –

Everything around him goes dark. A door opens and closes. Someone’s touching him. He tries to squirm away. Desperate to know who dares to grab him like this.

Then his eyes begin to adjust to the low light of the small room he’s in and Yuuji is in front of him. His big amber eyes and parted lips and breathless smile.

Yuuji. 

“Yuuji, what are you doing? People will see.”

“That didn’t seem to bother you last night.”

Yuuji tries to fall back into the same rapport they’d shared yesterday. Just yesterday things had been so simple. Easy flirting and whispered desires and electrifying closeness. 

But today is a new day. 

“Something happened,” Yuuji declares. 

He goes to take Megumi’s hand without looking. Megumi sucks in a sharp breath, wincing around his poorly bandaged ring finger. His own pain is there, reflected across Yuuji’s face – horrified that something he did twisted that sound from Megumi’s mouth.

Then he takes a closer look. Sees why Megumi is in pain.

“Who did this to you?”

He is a knight of old, ready and waiting to slay the dragon. Youthful and vibrant and so determined to succeed that failure never registers as an option. But not every story has a happy ending. Sometimes the hero doesn’t win. 

There’s a difference between a sad story and a tragedy – a cautionary tale and a fable of the end of days. It’s better to close the book now then risk reading to the end and finding out the hero doesn’t make it home in this one. 

“I think it’s best if you go. If we … don’t see each other anymore.”

“You don’t mean that,” he shakes his head. Yuuji sounds as certain as Megumi has ever heard him, but there’s something new – almost frantic – a hair's breadth away from making itself known. Megumi hates that he’s the reason Yuuji looks like that right now.

“Yes I do.” 

He has all the conviction of a fairweather friend and all the tells of a liar. He can’t bring himself to tear his eyes from the floor. He bites the inside of his cheek. Shifts his weight between his two legs.

“Then look me in the eyes and say it again.”

Leave it to Yuuji to find a way to surprise Megumi, even now.

The shock brings him to Yuuji’s gaze, amber and expectant. Eyes that speak to a devotion Megumi could never deserve – a trust he could never earn. 

All he has to do is say those words one more time. To look Yuuji in the eyes while he breaks both of their hearts.

But Megumi is exactly like the men who raised him.

He is selfish. He is greedy. He is stubborn. 

The words that would keep Yuuji safe never come.

He’s not sure if the want to be held or the want to hold is stronger, but all at once he is wrapped in Yuuji’s arms. Held close and tight as Yuuji rubs small circles into his back.

“I hate what these people do to you, Megumi.” His voice is so small and fragile as he whispers into Megumi’s hair. As if a single misplaced breath could push him over the edge and shatter him.

“But you don’t understand what they’re capable of doing to you, Yuuji.” He pulls apart enough to be able to look Yuuji in the eyes. Once he finds his voice again, it’s smaller than he’d like. “You have to let me go.”

“No.”

“Yuuji, please,” he begs. 

“ No .”

His anger is loud, but it doesn’t send Megumi cowering in fear because he’s angry too. Angry at the world for showing him true goodness just to snatch it back. Angry at himself for letting it. Angry that Yuuji feels the need to shrink his emotions lest he scare Megumi off. 

He sees Yuuji’s glass face shatter and reorder into a stained glass mosaic. Broken pieces of the original coming together to commemorate the man in front of him who will not let Megumi’s last memory of him be twinged with fear if he really does walk away. 

“If you want me to leave you’ll have to do it yourself. I can’t make that choice. I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here.”

He takes Megumi’s hand and places it over his heart. 

“I know that I don’t deserve you. That I can’t offer you even half of what he can. I … I just can’t help myself when it comes to you, Megumi. You make me impulsive and rash — even more than I usually am.” He laughs slightly and it makes Megumi want to cry. 

“I care about you. And I know you care about me too.”

It’s simple. Certain. A truth they both recognize. 

It cannot stop what is to come. 

Megumi’s breath hitches as the only words he can force out pass his lips. 

“I’m sorry.”

Yuuji is reaching for him. Grasping and searching and pleading, but Megumi cannot let him stay. He has to let go.

Let go of hope. Let go of happiness. Let go of goodness. Let go of truth. Let go of a future he could be proud of. Let go of a life worth living. Let go of a person worth living for. 

Let go, let go, let go, let —

A wall of flesh stops Megumi in his tracks as he runs into Geto. 

Neither expect the other. Megumi can’t quite place how he ended up on this deck of the ship, mind and memory consumed like a snake eating its tail. 

“Did something happen, Megumi?” Geto asks cautiously. 

“Nothing happened,” Megumi grits. 

“Alright.” He elongates each syllable. “Let's say I believe you.” Geto cocks an eyebrow at Megumi. He cannot fight the insinuation so he says nothing. “Care to tell me about all the things that didn’t happen?”

The poets of old could write epics of all the things Megumi hadn’t done, but wished he could have. All the things he left behind. Sonnets and couplets and verses of all the ways he hadn’t done enough.

Megumi’s voice is shaky when he finally finds it. “I didn’t leave behind a man who truly cares for me. More than anyone ever has. I didn’t lie about why I couldn’t see him anymore. And I definitely didn’t tell him how I really felt.”

It’s a fraction of everything he didn’t do but wishes he had. It lingers in the air, floating and unmoored. And once again Megumi is left waiting, but this time he doesn’t know for what. 

“That’s a lot of things left undone,” he says simply. “Do you think you’ll ever get around to any of it?” 

“Maybe one day,” Megumi sighs.

Geto places a hand on his shoulder. “I hope that you do.”

It seems like he truly means it as he smiles and leaves Megumi on his own. Alone and pondering all that his inaction would cost him.

The kind of life he and Yuuji could lead together. The kind of life Yuuji promised him. A life colored with passion and fulfilled hopes. New adventures and places and people meant to be experienced with the other at their side. 

For once it was a promise made that didn’t carry with it the expectation of future apologies. Of disappointment and loneliness after being forgotten yet again.

In this life he is considered. In this life he is awake. In this life he just is . 

And in this moment where it’s only beginning to sink in that he cannot have it, Megumi is forced to admit how much he was looking forward to it.

He was looking forward to it.

The breath that carries the thought past his heart and into his throat catches. Electrifying and grounding – like a lightning rod reaching out to catch a bolt that could have spelled complete and utter destruction and turning it into something new. 

That thing. That far off mystery – that impossibility – that Yuuji had talked about. Of a life that demanded to be lived so fully that each moment counted.

He’d felt that.

Just a glimmer. But that was all it took to know he wanted more. 

The things that Yuuji talked about were out there for him. They were real and alive and waiting for him. If he didn’t have the courage on his own, he could borrow some of Yuuji’s for now. Practice with someone else’s until his mind and spirit and soul knew how to make their own by heart.

It wouldn’t be without danger. His world would throw everything it had at him to get him to stay. Threats and money and violence and people who were very determined to keep Megumi trapped in it. 

But he had to try. 

For Yuuji he can try.

For himself he can try. 

Again he finds himself running through the halls of Titanic. Again he finds himself running toward something. Toward someone.

Again and again and again he plunges forward into a new future. 

The bow of the ship is quiet and golden when he finds Yuuji there, looking out over the horizon. Megumi wants to watch the way the sun glints across Yuuji so he lets himself. Allows himself to be the artist for once, capturing form and colors and details as they are permanently etched into the sketchbook of his memory.

He is so beautiful. 

The moment the distance between them is unbearable, Megumi makes to sever it. Drawing closer until he’s near enough to tell him.

“You were right.”

Yuuji turns at the sound of Megumi’s voice. Disbelief and desire are palpable in his eyes. Megumi keeps talking. “I didn’t mean it,” he soothes. “I’m sorry."

“Come here.” Yuuji extends a hand. Megumi obeys, encroaching on Yuuji’s space like he owns it. 

“Close your eyes.”

There is no reason to doubt him so he does. He whispers, “Trust me,” and Megumi does. Allows himself to be guided and maneuvered by Yuuji’s deft hands. 

A hand on the outside of his knee encourages him to step onto the bottom rung of the railing. A mirrored press on the other leg sends it to match its counterpart. His balance begins to waver, but he trusts Yuuji will be there to catch him. And he is, the press of Yuuji’s chest into Megumi’s back letting him know that he will not fall. 

Yuuji traces a path along Megumi’s arms, lifting and guiding them to be outstretched on either side. There’s space between his ribs that he’s never felt before. Once Megumi’s arms are in place, Yuuji places a steadying hand on his waist. It makes his stomach dip and turn as Yuuji’s fingers find familiar purchase there once more.

The breeze as Titanic cuts a path through the sea caresses Megumi’s cheeks. Bringing with it the smell of salt air and goosebumps from the coolness of the wind or the warmth of Yuuji or the cell deep need to feel as much as he possibly can right now. His other senses heighten with the loss of his sight. Waiting for Yuuji to tell him –

“Open your eyes.”

And Megumi does.

There’s only the ocean all around him. As far as his eyes can see. Forever and ever and ever. Waves and sun lilting and curling into one another. Light catches on the water in a way he’ll spend the rest of his life chasing, this place his church and these glimmers the windows of the cathedral.

“I’m flying,” he breathes.

Yuuji laughs mirthfully. Plays alongside him. Guides Megumi’s arms slightly like a plane carving a sinuous path through the atmosphere. Their fingers trace and interlace.

He hums a song into Megumi’s ear. The one they’d danced to together just last night. 

Megumi tilts his head toward the music, letting his cheek graze the curve of Yuuji’s nose. A gesture so subtle it tickles like a breeze. 

It’s not enough.

He leans in, letting the full weight of his head rest on Yuuji’s. Burrowing and searching for more. 

Yuuji takes their joined hands and brings them to rest over Megumi’s belly. Arms wrapped snugly around his waist.

They share a look and Megumi can only think of everything else he wants to share with Yuuji. His deepest secrets, his every whim, his family name, his whole future. His eyes flick down to Yuuji’s lips before coming home to his gaze once more. 

Fire of Prometheus. A thing fought and died for. But now a thing Megumi will live for, waiting for him just ahead in the eyes of the man holding him. He will have the rest of his life to kiss Yuuji, but he only gets to do it for the first time this once. 

He wills himself to commit to memory the way they fit together. Forces himself to memorize how warm his body is. How still he’s gone. How Yuuji is reaching back for him. 

Megumi moves forward into life itself. 

No kiss has ever felt like this. He didn’t realize that a kiss could hold anything other than obligation. Each previous one he’d had before was predicated on a lack. 

Kissing Yuuji is a full action. It’s transcendent. Brimming with affection and desire and tenderness and care.

How lucky is he that he gets to do this forever? To feel these soft lips beneath his and trace the dimples under Yuuji’s eyes with his thumbs for the rest of his days? To be an old man warm in his bed held in these very arms?

“That was worth the wait,” Yuuji breathes. Megumi can feel each one as it starts in his lungs and passes through his lips.

“I don’t want to wait anymore.”

Certainty is his driving force as he steps down from the railing, accepting Yuuji’s chivalrous hand and using it to guide him away from the bow of the ships and toward the First Class decks.

Megumi is champagne – sparkling and bubbling and spilling over. Laughter bursting forth at nothing and everything. 

Through familiar hallways and prying eyes he can’t bring himself to care about, Megumi guides Yuuji back into his suite. He knows Kamo well enough to know that their rooms will be empty for the next several hours as he’ll be preoccupied with his nightly routine of brandy and cigars.

He welcomes Yuuji back into his space, shucking his jacket and tossing it onto one of the lounge chairs. 

This room holds so many bad memories and things he can’t wait to leave behind. Being here with Yuuji makes this place not seem so awful though.

He wants to remember, wants to preserve, wants to …

“Yuuji, could I convince you to sketch a portrait?”

“You’re pretty convincing, it shouldn’t be too hard for you to persuade me,” he flirts. “What’s the subject?”

“Me.”

“Oh?”

Megumi turns and goes to the safe, unlocking it in a series of fluid turns of his wrist. The safe door opens. Waiting for him inside is a plush velvet box. Megumi takes it from its resting place and brings it out into the parlor.

“Specifically, me wearing this.” He opens the box to show Yuuji the Heart of the Ocean. The luxury and splendor of the necklace takes Yuuji’s breath from him as he stares slack-jawed at the masterpiece in front of him.

Selfish as ever, Megumi wants that look for himself.

“ Only this.”

Words fail Yuuji as Megumi consumes his full attention – a silent nod all the response he can muster. It makes Megumi smile.

Yuuji sets up a chair and small table in the parlor. Lays out his sketchbook and pencils. He’s meticulous, rearranging and straightening his supplies. After his seventh time reordering the same eraser, Megumi puts a hand over Yuuji’s.

“Eyes on me.”

Yuuji nods obediently, looking up at Megumi as he begins to undress. 

He sets an agonizingly slow pace. Untying his shoes. Removing his socks. Unbuttoning his dress shirt. Folding it. Unclasping his belt. Rolling it into a tight circle. Unfastening his pants. Placing them off to the side. Placing a thumb under the waistband of his underwear and pulling.

Yuuji’s eyes never leave Megumi’s. His grip on the arm of the chair turns his knuckles white, a visible display of the genuine effort it’s taking for him to hold himself back right now.

There will be time for that later. They have so much time. 

Megumi should feel vulnerable or shy, but he can’t find it in himself. All there is is confidence and desire.

“How do you want to pose?” Yuuji asks, voice raspy and strained.

“You’re the artist. Why don’t you tell me?”

To tease. To play. To flirt unabashedly. 

What joys are these when shared with someone your heart sings for?

“Right. Why don’t you lay down on that bed — uhm couch?” 

He does as he’s asked. Lays across the couch. He’s not quite sure what to do with his hands though.

“And then move your hand like this.” Yuuji gestures for him to keep his right hand closer to his cheek. Megumi copies the positioning. “Perfect. Stay there.”

Yuuji takes his pencil to paper and begins sketching. His eyes roam and rove and Megumi relishes each glance. The blush starts subtly before overtaking Yuuji’s whole face. Beginning in the tips of his ears before cascading down to his cheeks and onto his neck and what little of his chest isn’t hidden underneath his shirt.

Visible, tangible proof that his body is powerless to suppress how much he wants Megumi. 

As if he can sense his thoughts, Yuuji brings his sketchbook to cover most of his face – to hide his blush – and that simply won’t do. 

“I don’t think that’s very fair,” Megumi taunts. “You can see so much of me but I can hardly see any of you.”

Yuuji flicks his gaze over the clipboard, but still doesn’t lower it. “If you want to see more of me, all you have to do is ask, baby.”

Baby.

The affection flutters through him. Keeps away the cold of night’s descent. Megumi wants to make him say it again and again and again. 

The moment of distraction is all Yuuji needs to finish his sketch. He sets down his pencil and takes in the work of his creation. Megumi dresses once more then goes to join him.

“Let me see.”

Yuuji turns the sketchbook to him. And Megumi is …

He’s overcome. There’s no other word for it. There’s such a life captured in the fibers of the paper. A soul and vibrance that Megumi didn’t know was there. 

Is this how Yuuji sees him? 

“It’s perfect.”

“No, you’re perfect Megumi.”

And he means it. His words carry an honesty that is indelibly Yuuji. Megumi leans in and kisses him. He’s still getting used to the fact that he’s allowed to do this. That when he reaches out, Yuuji is already there, reaching back. 

He loses himself in the moment. In the way Yuuji’s fingers feel threaded through his hair. In the way Yuuji’s waist feels as he threads an arm around it to pull him closer. In the way his breath hitches when —

“Mr. Fushiguro?” A voice that is undeniably Todo’s calls. “Are you in here?”

Megumi is already in motion before Todo finishes calling his name. Grabbing Yuuji by the wrist and guiding him out the back door. Everything else is forgotten behind them as Megumi closes the door as quietly as his adrenaline-riled body will let him. 

They attempt to walk as calmly as they’re able. Two men arm in arm making their way down the hallway. 

Yuuji couldn’t be subtle if he tried though and chances a glance over his shoulder. The odds are not in their favor, Todo catching them sneaking away and breaking into an all out sprint toward them. 

“Run!” Yuuji shouts and Megumi does.

Their hands stay intertwined as their legs move as fast as they can, Megumi’s lungs already aching from the exertion. They push other passengers aside, leaving a trail of confused and jostled people in their wake. Hoping that the flurry of confusion acts as a smokescreen for them to disappear behind. 

Yuuji leads them to a back stairwell and down toward Third Class. Endless blind turns and labyrinthine hallways. Megumi wants to stop to rest but Todo’s lumbering footsteps behind him tell him that they can’t afford to halt yet. 

No matter where Yuuji leads them, Todo is hot on their trail. Making quick work of guessing the path they’ll take — no doubt having studied the ship’s passageways before getting on board. Winding hallways and false turns no match for sheer determination. 

Yuuji knows these routes better than either of them though – having spent most of his time aboard roaming this part of the ship. He takes a switchback toward what appears to be a dead end, but when quick pressure is applied to the center of the wall panel, it yields. Revealing a secret hideaway for them to take refuge. Yuuji pushes him through the opening first, following only once he knows that Megumi is safely inside. 

When his eyes adjust to the near darkness, he realizes they must be in some sort of crew passage. Modest finishes and plain iron, but decidedly intentional. 

It clearly wasn’t designed for multiple people to loiter though. Yuuji’s chest is pressed firmly into his. Warm breaths mingle as they both pant from the exertion.

Todo’s footsteps echo loudly on the other side of the wall. Megumi wills them both into stillness. Praying to any eavesdropping deity to let Todo pass. To let Megumi have this one thing. He’ll never need to ask for anything ever again if they can make it out of this trap.

A heavy sigh preludes the sound of footsteps getting quieter with each passing one.

Once they’re certain Todo is safely out of earshot, they relax into each other. Tension evaporating as they just hold each other in this place.

“He’s persistent,” Yuuji chuckles. 

“That’s one word to describe him,” Megumi quips.

He starts to walk away, but Yuuji reaches for his wrist and uses it to pull Megumi back into his chest. Swallowing his startled breath between his own lips as he kisses him. 

Hazy and unsteady on his feet, Megumi follows Yuuji deeper and deeper into the labyrinth. One hallway leads to another, eventually opening into a massive storage compartment. Boxes and trunks and crates are stacked on pallets in every direction, continuing on as far as the eye can see. 

A pristine Renault is tucked off in one corner. Yuuji dashes off in its direction. 

“I’ve never seen a car this nice before!”

Yuuji tries to be a gentleman and open the passenger side door for him, but Megumi will have no such thing. Instead, he walks around to the driver’s side and lets himself in. Taking a seat behind the wheel and waiting expectantly for Yuuji to sit beside him. Posturing and pretending to chauffeur the other man around.

“Where to, sir?” Megumi asks politely. 

“To the stars,” Yuuji breathes.

Megumi nods and steers as though he’s guiding them there. The steering wheel turns easily in his hand. It doesn’t take more than a single finger to guide it through a rotation. Megumi traces the polished wood, letting it slide across the pad of his index finger.

The unmistakable sound of a swallow next to him draws his gaze towards Yuuji, blushing and staring at Megumi’s hands with a single, unabashed focus.

“What else can you do with those?” 

His voice is ragged and low already and Megumi knows that his will be the same when he asks, “Wanna find out?” 

Megumi doesn’t know which is faster – the speed at which Yuuji looks up at him or the speed at which he’s pulling them both into the back seat. 

The whimpers coming from Yuuji are desperate and immediate as Megumi’s lips find his again and again and again. 

Nothing they share is tentative. Megumi straddling a thigh on either side of Yuuji’s hips. Letting the weight of his body press them closer together. Tongue sliding across the seam of Yuuji’s mouth and being coaxed deeper in. 

Yuuji’s hands find his waist, his thighs, the crest between. Fingers digging and bruising into his flesh – the indelible mark he’s left on Megumi’s heart blooming onto his skin in shades of green and blue.

A wonton sigh passes Yuuji’s lips and it’s all Megumi can do to now swallow him whole. Desire consumes him. The want to give Yuuji everything – to be everything to him – the only thing that matters in the universe right now.

Could it always be like this? Could touch be a thing leaned into instead of shied away from? Could another person feel like coming home to himself?

Megumi places a steadying hand on Yuuji’s chest and is devastated to feel cool linen instead of warm skin. “I want to see more of you.”

Yuuji frantically unbuttons his shirt, desperate to give Megumi everything he wants. 

Want and need share a single purpose as he sees Yuuji’s chest, laving and kissing all of him that he can reach. Yuuji’s body arches underneath him and Megumi is powerless to stop himself from mirroring the motion.

He’s always been powerless when it comes to Yuuji. From the first moment Yuuji came barreling full force into his life – there when no one else was, in a way no one else could be – Megumi had been powerless to stop himself from falling.

Into his orbit. Into his arms. Into … something more than affection.

But then again, it’s never felt like falling, has it? Yuuji has always been there to catch him when he stumbles. To pull him back when he’s on the edge of something he can’t return from. 

The heat between them mixes with the cold air and fogs the car windows. 

Megumi feels a bead of sweat begin to drip down his neck. Almost as soon as he does, he feels Yuuji’s tongue on the spot. He’s attentive like that. He’s aware of Megumi. A strangled sigh passes Megumi’s lips as the hot, wet muscle traces the path of his sweat.

Yuuji’s hips buck in response, jolting Megumi forward. Hand hitting then sliding down the fogged up window as he continues to cant his hips into Yuuji’s. Together they find a steady rhythm, arousal obvious and utterly tempting.

He gives into temptation, threading a hand between them. Pressing into the bulge in Yuuji’s pants. The other man sucks in a breath through his teeth.

“Megumi – I …” His eyes are brimming with desire. With want to ask for more, but trepidation about being too much.

As if Megumi would ever ask Yuuji to be less than he is.

“Go on,” Megumi encourages, “Use your words, baby.”

He continues to work Yuuji over with his hand. Relishing the soft moans as he fights hard to stay focused on the conversation they’re supposed to be having.

“I promise I’m thinking about it too.”

Yuuji surges forward, engulfing him in a messy kiss. Panting and desperate. 

Telling Megumi what he needs and keeping his lips on him seems to be an impossible choice for Yuuji. 

“Megumi, I –” He pulls him in for another kiss. “– just want –” He pulls him in for another kiss. “– fuck you’re so perfect –” He pulls him in for another kiss. “Your mouth –” He pulls him in for another kiss. “– need your mouth.” He pulls him in for another kiss.  

It’s all the direction Megumi needs, settling back on his haunches to unbutton Yuuji’s pants. Pulling everything down in a series of jerky motions.

They share one final glance – breath held and eyes wide. Yuuji nods once and it’s all the permission Megumi needs.

He takes Yuuji into his mouth. The weight of him on his tongue is addictive. He tries to broaden his senses – to commit everything to memory. 

The way he tastes. The way Yuuji’s hands feel threaded through his hair, guiding but never insistent. The way his eyes flutter closed in time with Megumi’s ministrations. The way he sounds as Megumi takes him deeper and deeper down his throat.

Yuuji chants his name like a prayer from above. “You feel so good, Megumi. Ohh Megumi your mouth – it’s – I, aaahh. Megumi, please. Ffff – ohh I need you Megumi. Need you so much, Megumi. Please, please, Megumi I’m –”

The unmistakable sound of a door opening freezes them in place. Whispers carry from the far side of the storage compartment. Near the same door they entered from.

Megumi adjusts them enough to chance a glance out the window. Lantern light reflecting through the space is enough to tell him that they are not alone.

There are no words – just frantic and insistent pointing as they re-dress. Megumi finishes first, silently opening the back door of the car, making sure Yuuji is by his side before closing it behind them.

Yuuji takes over. Leading them out the far door and into another staff staircase. With distance on their side, they take off at a sprint. Bounding up the stairs two at a time until they find the door that lets them out on the main deck.

Adrenaline turns into laughter turns into a lingering kiss. Megumi’s hand wrapped around Yuuji’s waist. Yuuji’s hands cradling his cheeks.

“Yuuji.” 

The sun has long since set, but Megumi couldn’t dream of feeling cold. Not when beside him is Yuuji – radiant and warm and far brighter than anything their solar system’s star has to offer. 

If the sun is also a star, then perhaps for another galaxy their sun was as guiding as Polaris. But in this one, more grounding and guiding than any North Star is Itadori Yuuji, showing him a new path forward.

One he can’t wait to take.

“When the ship docks, I’m getting off with you.” 

This was the future he wanted to create. The first steps of its existence willed into existence by Megumi alone.

But there to meet him halfway is Yuuji. A smile overtakes his face. Megawatt and gleaming and Megumi cannot believe it’s just for him.

“Am I dreaming?” Yuuji asks.

“I’m wide awake,” Megumi answers. 

He pulls him in close and kisses him. 

A sound like screaming hellfire rings through the air. The ground beneath his feet trembles and stutters. Blood thrums in his ears as his pulse skyrockets, breath shaking.

The thought of what could have possibly made that sound is answered immediately by the iceberg looming off the starboard side of the ship.

Yuuji pulls him away from the edge as a massive chunk is shaved off the side of the iceberg, landing with a thick thud on the deck. Small pieces splinter off in all directions. 

They share a look. Catch their breath. 

“That didn’t sound good.”

Around them on the ship, other passengers begin to take stock. Ensuring their friends and loved ones are unharmed. Looking to their fellow travelers to see if anyone has answers. Largely, they seem unphased. Most opting to continue on whatever mission brought them to the outer decks at this hour. A few reaching out to touch the iceberg with their hands or kick around the parts that fell onto the deck like a soccer ball. 

There are no new sounds. No screams of chaos. Even as he and Yuuji venture toward the other side of the deck. 

He begins to think the whole thing might have been a figment of his imagination. The only real thing the way that Yuuji’s hand feels intertwined with his.

He should have known it was all too good to be true. 

Moving past him in a flurry is a small swarm with Geto at its center.

“Wake Satoru, now. Higuruma, Kuskabe, and all the other Lieutenants too. And Gakuganji for good measure. We’ll need to –”

“Geto,” Megumi interrupts.

“Megumi.”

His voice is thin and strained. A feral animal trapped in a cage as the one who laid it closes in. It leaves Megumi uncertain in its wake.

“We saw the ship hit the iceberg. But we’ll be alright. Won’t we?”

And he hopes they will. He hopes in a way he has never hoped before. 

Geto steps away from his party, pulling Yuuji and Megumi into a conspiratorial whisper off to one side.

“I do not want a panic. But you must understand the situation we’ve found ourselves in.” It takes him a moment to find his voice, not able to look either of them in the eye as he measures out his next words. “The ship will sink. In a matter of hours, everything you see now will be underwater.”

This … this can’t be.

Unsinkable.

That was the promise he’d been made. One repeated so many times he had no choice but to believe that it was true. 

But all promises were made to be broken in the end. 

“Do you remember what I told you, Megumi? About the lifeboats?” 

There are twenty-two hundred souls aboard but not enough lifeboats by half. 

Cold air floods Megumi’s eyes as they widen at the memory. 

Half of the people on this boat had already seen their last sunset. Had already eaten their last supper. Had already shared their last kiss. 

Mere days ago Megumi would not have minded being one of them. 

But he is not the man that he was before.

Yuuji has shown him a different path and he will be there to see where it leads.

They’ll start boarding the lifeboats soon and when they do, it is imperative that Yuuji and Megumi are ready and waiting. Poised to take the first chance they have to survive this night together. 

The others will rest on their laurels — believing what they have been told. That this ship is unsinkable. They’re naive and stupid to believe they have more time than they do. 

Megumi will not be like them. 

The realization settles into the space between his ribs. Forcing him to stand tall enough to shield Yuuji from any harm that could befall him on this night. They will survive this night together if it is the last thing they do. 

There is nothing else to be said, so Geto nods once and returns to his delegation. 

With all the gravitas he can muster, Megumi turns to the man at his side. “Yuuji, listen to me. We need to —“

Megumi winces as a firm hand digs into the meat of his shoulder. 

“Just the two people I’ve been looking for. You’ll be coming with me now.”

Todo. 

He’d been an arrogant fool to believe they could be seen in public together without consequence. That Kamo would allow him to go without a fight. 

Megumi’s eyes find Yuuji’s but it cannot change the conclusion they’ve both come to. Todo is bigger than both of them put together and has them locked in a vice grip. They cannot escape this. They have no choice but to follow as Todo leads them back to Kamo and Megumi’s suite.

Toji, Kamo, and the Master-at-Arms, with a few of his men, are already assembled and waiting when they are brought inside. Escorted like prisoners on trial awaiting sentencing.

“There you are, darling,” Kamo sighs.

He leans in and kisses Megumi. The action leaves him reeling and blinking hard in surprise. Trying to squirm away but Todo’s tight clutch forces him to the spot.

To his side, he can feel Yuuji trying to break free as Kamo puts a hand to Megumi’s cheek and caresses him there.

“We were so worried about you.”

If he was a stranger, Megumi might mistake Kamo’s tone as genuine concern. But he’s not so naive to fall for it. There are dangerous machinations at work here.

“Search him.” Kamo juts his chin toward Yuuji and the Master-at-Arms’ men move on him like hunting dogs given the all clear to slaughter the rabbit. 

Yuuji tries to back away on instinct, but Todo’s iron grip holds true. “What?”

“Kamo, you can’t be serious.” Megumi baulks, “What’s all this about?”

“I’m quite serious. Something has been taken from me this evening and I intend to see it returned.”

Megumi straightens. He is certainly not returning here willingly if that’s what Kamo is implying. 

“Is this the item, sir?” One of the Master-at-Arms’ men asks as he pulls from Yuuji’s pocket …

The Heart of the Ocean.

All the air is sucked out of the room. 

Bile pools in Megumi’s cheeks. Scanning Yuuji’s face for any sign of deception.

“Yes, it certainly is.”

That’s all the invitation the Master-at-Arms needs to begin restraining Yuuji. Taking his hands behind his back and handcuffing him.

“This is bullshit! I didn’t take it!” His voice gets more frantic – more hurried – with each word. “Don’t believe them, Megumi. You know I didn’t do it!”

Yuuji’s eyes are wide – pouring his heart out to Megumi. Begging him to speak, to stop this, to do something. 

And Megumi tries. He wills words to come, air to fill his lungs, courage to be with him now. 

He is not blind to the reality of the situation. That necklace is worth millions. A life changing amount for anyone – especially for someone with nothing to lose. Yuuji would never want for another thing if he had that necklace.

Maybe he had taken it for them? A way for them to start a life together once they got off this boat. But then why hadn’t he mentioned it earlier?

Was he planning to keep it for himself? Had all they shared been some sort of elaborate scheme to swindle him out of the single most valuable item on this ship?

These thoughts and so many more flood his consciousness, each one fighting to be the one that makes it out first.

And he tries to force himself to speak – encourage language past the desert of his throat. Lure it forward with any promise of the future he wants.

But the past is an anchor and old habits die hard.

In the end, it doesn’t matter that he can’t bring himself to say anything.

The Master-at-Arms is already putting Yuuji in handcuffs. The door between them is already slammed closed. Yuuji is already gone.

There is only himself, his father, and his fiance in a room far colder than it was a moment ago. The other two men say nothing, lying in wait for whatever Megumi has to say for himself. 

“I was with him the whole time.” He starts slowly, still in disbelief over all that has transpired. “He couldn’t have.”

“Were you?” Kamo asks calmly. Far too calmly for Megumi to let his guard down. “Even while you were putting your clothes back on?”

He knows.

Somehow he always knows. Always finds out. 

There is fear and shock in his eyes as the next thing filling Megumi’s vision is Kamo’s hand coming down to backhand him. 

He has no time to move – to dodge – all he can do is take it. The force of the slap sending him to the floor. His face is red and raw from the impact – blood rushing to the spot and thrumming through his disoriented skull. Pounding and screaming at him to do something. Anything.

But the past is an anchor and old habits die hard.

Megumi looks to his father – who is just like him and does not say anything. 

“Slut.” 

Kamo spits, the glob of saliva landing solidly on Megumi’s cheek.

He is debased and humiliated but still cannot speak. Kamo towers over him, crumpled on the floor. Weighing his options. He rears back a foot, aimed squarely for Megumi’s stomach –

The door opens.

“Pardon me sirs,” a voice he does not recognize interrupts. “But the Captain has ordered all passengers to put on their life belts and make their way to the boat deck.”

“Can’t you see we’re in the middle of something?” Kamo grits. 

“My apologies, sir, but these are the Captain’s orders.” 

He is undeterred by whatever scene he has walked into and hands each man a life belt. Kamo snatches one and tucks it under his arm before turning back to Megumi.

“We are far from finished here.” 

Kamo looks expectantly at the steward, waiting to be shown where to go. The man sends a concerned glance Megumi’s way, but ultimately chooses self preservation and leads Kamo toward the upper decks.

Wordlessly, Toji follows. Not bothering to spare a glance for the son who has found yet another way to disappoint him.

For the first time, he is truly alone in this space. Consumed by the silence.

Tears fall or don’t. Time passes or doesn’t. 

The sound of wood creaking catches his ear. At first he thinks it’s the ship, but Todo is standing in the doorway.

“Kamo sent me to ensure that you made it to the boat deck. We wouldn’t want you to get over excited looking at the propellers again.”

It is a cruel joke at Megumi’s expense, but one he should have predicted. 

Todo manhandles him to standing easily. Walls and lights and strangers pass him by. Unhurried and unfazed by the bizarre change in routine they’re all facing.

Don’t they know? Can’t they understand?

This ship will sink. There is nothing anyone can do to save them from their fate. The floors under their feet are raked and uneven – changing elevation as Megumi is marched toward a certain death of a different kind.

Music catches his ear. A song he’s heard at weddings before. Were the White Star Line higher ups truly so malevolent that they would let these musicians die so that the First Class passengers had music to drown by?

The same quartet had been at dinner each and every night, playing music to underscore his isolation. Megumi didn’t know any of their names.  

Chaos has not overtaken order quite yet. First Class passengers Megumi recognizes in passing form up in polite lines, waiting to be ushered into lifeboats. Some exist off to the sides, a respectful distance from the lifeboats as hoards of stewards and porters relight cigars and refill snifters with brandy.

Todo drags him to the front of the line and deposits him at Kamo’s side. The sudden proximity has Megumi shrinking away from him – stopped by the wall of flesh that is Todo Aoi.

Snide glances are sent their way at Megumi’s outburst.

“There you are darling, we were so worried about you.”

The same words as earlier. They send a shiver down his spine. Blooming into a full scale tremble as the night air cuts through his dress shirt. 

“Here, you must be freezing.”

Kamo removes his jacket and wraps it around Megumi in a pantomime of affection. Projecting the story he wants the people around him to whisper at dinner tomorrow night.

If they make it to tomorrow night. 

The lifeboat before him is nearly full. A single seat remaining next to Toji.

“Go on dear, I’ll be on the next one. You go with your father.”

Safety and life exist right in front of him. A seat on this lifeboat a promise of seeing tomorrow.

But all he can think about is Yuuji.

He doesn’t want to watch the sun rise another day if he can’t look to his side and see the light reflected off Yuuji’s cheeks. Highlighting the freckles dusting the bridge of his nose.

He doesn’t want to live another day surrounded by people who cannot see him when seated next to him at dinner. People whose lives are motivated by greed and control.

This world is precious and full of so much more than he imagined. There is meaning in everything for those who have the eyes to see it and Itadori Yuuji has shown him where to look.

There is nothing left for him here. His future lies elsewhere.

“Megumi, now ,” Toji hisses. 

“No.”

He will not bid farewell to people he will not miss. Megumi hears the boat begin to lower behind him, but his path is forward. Toward a love he can not bear to lose. 

A hand digging hard into the meat of his bicep attempts to pull him back, but he will not let it.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Kamo snarls. “To him? He’s nothing.”

“No Kamo, you are.”

Megumi hawks back and sends a glob of saliva flying directly into Kamo’s eye. It’s enough of a disorientation for his grip to loosen and Megumi to wriggle out of his grasp. Taking off at a breakneck speed back down to the lower decks. 

His destination eludes him, the only thing propelling him forward is the knowledge that he cannot leave Yuuji behind. He has to find him, has to – 

For the second time in so many hours, he slams directly into Geto.

Geto.

“Geto. Quickly. Where would the Master-at-Arms take someone who was under arrest?”

His eyes soften. “Megumi, now is not the time. You need to –”

“No! I need to find Yuuji.” 

Geto sees that he will not accept an alternative and relents. “Take the elevator down to the bottom. Then two rights. Then the second left. He should be in there.”

“Got it.”

“Hurry, Megumi.”

It’s all the encouragement he needs to take off sprinting toward the elevators. Throwing himself into the first one he sees.

The operator inside seems startled, but does his best to maintain a facade of politeness. “Sorry, sir, the elevators are closed for –”

The rest of his sentence is inconsequential and cannot keep him from Yuuji. Megumi takes the man by the collar and yanks him out of the elevator and back into the hallway. Onlookers gawk as he closes the elevator door himself and takes it to the bottom floor. All the while repeating like a prayer Geto’s instructions. 

Bottom floor. Two rights. Second left. Bottom floor. Two rights. Second left. Bottom floor. Two rights. Second left. Bottom floor. Two rights. Second –

Ice cold water flooding the elevator compartment up to his shins jolts him from his thoughts.

Thousands of small needles stabbing into his flesh. It sucks the air out of his lungs in a shrill scream. Self preservation demands he ride the elevator back to the top. That he leave this place and never return. Never feel pain like this again.

Movement calls to him instead. A voice in his head telling him that so long as he’s moving, he can’t be cold.

He opens the door and begins trudging through shallow water.

Geto’s instructions never leave him. He takes the first right. Then the second. Follows that corridor for a while. Sees the first left. Skips it. Sees the second. Takes it.

As he rounds the corner he starts shouting. Screaming Yuuji’s name with all the force he can muster.

If he’s lucky Yuuji will hear him. If he’s lucky Yuuji is still alright. If he’s lucky Yuuji will shout back. If he’s lucky –

“Megumi!”

Yuuji.

He’s close now, just a few rooms down. Megumi wades through until he finds the one Yuuji is shouting his name from.

He bursts through the door to find Yuuji handcuffed around a pipe in the corner of the room. He’s standing on a wooden bench, trying to avoid the water now beginning to splash onto Megumi’s thighs as he makes his way toward Yuuji.

Each step is a fresh bolt of shock through his body. He didn’t know cold could feel like this – a burning numbness sending stabbing pain to every nerve ending on a constant, inescapable loop.

All of it fades away the second he wraps his arms around Yuuji. Pulling him close and kissing him.

“You’re here.” Yuuji exhales, reaching back as best as he can. It’s a little awkward, but Megumi relishes the feeling of Yuuji’s hands on his cheeks. “Megumi.” He pulls him into another kiss. “You’re really here.”

“I couldn’t leave you behind.” His voice catches, regret threatening to burst forth. “I’m so sorry Yuuji. I am so, so –”

“You’re here now. That’s what matters.”

He wants to protest. To demand that Yuuji deserves a full apology. To spell out all the ways that he hadn’t been enough and all the ways he would be better in the future.

But there will be time for that later. Right now survival matters more than repentance.

“See if you can find the key. Maybe in one of those drawers over there.”

Megumi nods, trudging dutifully through the water and toward the desk at the far side of the room. Papers and folders and pencils litter each drawer, but nothing with a metallic gleam that could spell Yuuji’s freedom.

“I don’t see one.”

“There must be something we can do.” The optimism is telltale Yuuji, but it’s hiding a desperation Megumi hasn’t heard before.

“I’ll go see if there’s anyone down here still who can help. I’ll be right back.” 

Leaving Yuuji again is unbearable, but it must be done. 

“I’ll be here.” Yuuji jests, raising his cuffed hands slightly. If they were anywhere but here it might have made Megumi smile. That feels so far away right now.

He goes back into the hallway. The overhead lights flicker and hum – plunging him into stuttered darkness – before settling to their regular glow. 

The path to his left looks to be less flooded, so Megumi takes it. It’s easier to run now, water only coming up to his ankles, so he uses it to his advantage. Sprinting through the halls, shouting for anyone who is still here.

Maybe if he’s lucky there will be a member of the White Star Line staff nearby. Someone who has the key to Yuuji’s freedom.

He will not sacrifice speed for memory. Taking great care to sear each turn he takes into his mind. He will not lose Yuuji through his own negligence.

Brain brimming with directions and throat sore from yelling, Megumi pauses to catch his breath. 

There is no one else down here. Iron creaking and water dripping the only response to his calls. 

No one else is coming to save them. Pretending otherwise is turning into a waste of time. He needs to think. Needs to come up with something. Needs to –

Encased in a glass box on the wall beside him is a fire axe. 

His brain is still working out what the hell he’d even do with an axe when his body starts to move to obtain it. He slams his elbow hard into the glass. It shatters easily. Before he has a chance to second guess himself, Megumi takes the axe up and begins retracing his steps back towards Yuuji.

The water is further down the hall than he remembers once he makes it back to Yuuji. He forgoes taking a moment to prepare himself for the cold in favor of wading right in and immediately regrets it. Wincing and shivering as the water begins to seep back over his shins.

It’s even worse in the room Yuuji is trapped in. The water is almost up to Megumi’s waist. It was only just past his knees a few minutes ago. Everything is moving too fast. They have to catch up.

“This was all I could find,” Megumi offers, holding up the axe. 

They both know it’s not ideal, but Yuuji’s easy acceptance is too innately woven into who he is for it to be lost in a crisis, “It’ll have to do then.” 

Yuuji spreads his hands as wide apart as the handcuffs will let him. A thick metal chain connects his two wrists, about half a foot in length. 

“Just bring the axe down hard right in the middle,” Yuuji insists.

Knowing the request is coming and actually hearing it are two different things. Doubt seeps into his fingers, his chest, his gut. He’s nowhere near proficient with an axe – let alone capable of this much precision with one. There’s almost no room for error. Missing by a few inches on either side will spell a wound that they have no hope of getting a doctor to look at right now. And that’s if Megumi only inflicts a wound that can be healed with proper treatment. If he misses by more than a little bit …

How is he supposed to do this?

“Hey.” Yuuji’s words bring him back to the present. “I trust you, Megumi. You won’t hurt me.” He places a gentle kiss on Megumi’s brow. 

Megumi does not deserve the trust Yuuji places in him. The confidence he has that just by being himself Megumi can accomplish anything. 

Believing in himself might not feel possible right now. He’s terrified of doing the wrong thing or making a mistake. Megumi does not believe in himself, but he does believe in Yuuji. Knows that Yuuji would never lie to him. And Yuuji believes in him. So maybe that’s enough for right now. 

His focus narrows to the center of the chain of the handcuffs. He imagines bringing the axe down squarely on that spot. Imagines a future where he does this. Where he gets them both out of his room alive.

He takes a deep breath. Raises the axe over his head –

And with a metallic thwink the handcuffs split right down the middle.

It doesn’t feel real until Yuuji’s arms are wrapped tightly around his middle. Lifting him into a proper hug. Burying his face in Megumi’s shoulder.

The ground beneath them trembles, a low bellow coming from somewhere deep in the ship. Megumi sees that the room’s porthole – which should be above water – is fully submerged. 

They’re running out of time.

“Come on,” Megumi orders. “We need to head up to the boat deck.”

He offers Yuuji a hand to help him down from the bench. His grip becomes bone crushing as he feels the temperature of the water for the first time.

“ Shit this is fucking cold.” 

Megumi bites back the urge to soothe. Diverting all his energy to leading them back the way he came. Back to the surface. Back toward life.

The elevator had already started flooding when Megumi took it down. If the rate that the rest of this deck has been flooding is any indication, there’s likely too much water seeping into the wiring for it to be in working order still. But there should be a staircase next to it that they can …

As they turn the corner, Megumi feels his heart drop to his stomach as sheets of water pour down the stairs he’d planned on taking back up. The most direct path back to the boat deck snatched from under him. 

He’s not familiar with this part of the ship, since it’s mostly crew decks and passages. If he was somewhere else, maybe he’d be able to get them out. Maybe —

“Not that way. Come on.”

Yuuji’s voice, insistent and sure, cuts through the noise in his head. Guiding him away from the water back down the hallway he came from. 

He moves with such certainty, Megumi can’t tell if he genuinely knows where they’re going or is simply making his best guess about how to get them out of here. 

Turn after winding turn, they find a staircase marked “Crew Only” and take it without hesitation. They work together to parse through the minimal directions posted on the wall — hoping desperately that their general knowledge of the ship’s layout and best guesses at what the signage means will lead them out. 

They take the option that leads them up whenever they can. Resorting to seeing which path seems most level or dry and following it as far as it leads. 

Yuuji’s grip never falters, leading him forward with the fervor of a man possessed. Looking back every few meters to make sure that Megumi is still there by his side. 

The hallway reaches a dead end, but there’s the unmistakable sound of a small crowd on the other side. Before Megumi has a chance to realize what he’s doing, Yuuji has already launched his entire body into the wall. The first attempt bows the wood almost to the brink of snapping. The second sends him toppling through to the other side of the wall, nearly knocking over a woman who looks almost like —

“Nobara!”

“Yuuji?”

Her brows pinch in confusion — almost like she’s seeing a character from a dream — until she realizes that her mind isn’t playing tricks on her. 

Yuuji pulls her into a tight hug, resting his cheek on the top of her head. She melts into him. Real, genuine relief in this moment of crisis and confusion doing more to calm her than any platitude of safety. 

On all sides, there are families and friends and strangers whispering together in small clumps. Megumi tries his best to listen in to what they’re saying but it’s impossible to prick the hum of a single bee from within the cacophony of a swarm. 

It doesn’t take a beekeeper to recognize that the hive is upset though. Furtive glances look further down the hall toward something Megumi can’t quite make out. Loud voices and frantic swatting clouding the way. 

Eventually, Yuuji breaks the hug. There will be time for a full fond reunion later. 

“What’s happening?” Yuuji asks.

“They locked the gates and won’t let us up. Said they don’t wanna risk us making a run on the boats while they’re still loading first class passengers into the lifeboats.” 

Indignance flashes across Yuuji’s face. “That’s bullshit!”

“You’re telling me.”

“Come on.” Megumi interjects. “We can’t just stand around and wait for them to change their minds. There has to be another way out.”

The three of them nod in somber agreement, somehow deciding without words that Megumi should be the one to lead them out. Their trust is instant and whole – a far cry from the scraps of agency he’s grown accustomed to fighting tooth and nail for. 

The passenger areas of the ship are far more known to him than the crew areas he and Yuuji just came from. Their logic is simpler, designed to be grasped quickly by people traveling from all over the globe aboard Titanic. 

His time with Geto lingers in the corners of his memory. Conversations shared about his approach to designing the ship. All the ways he tried to consider the passengers aboard when piecing it together. 

Megumi tries desperately to recall any turn of phrase he’s forgotten. Any small wisdom that could help him guide Yuuji and Kugisaki to safety. 

But the time for thinking is gone. The present is a thing of action. So he marches on. 

There aren’t as many people around now. The last straggler they passed was three or four hallways back. It makes the creaking and groaning of the ship around them harder to ignore.

Light catches up ahead in a way that cuts through the monotony of repeated catacombs. At first he thinks it’s a trick — some consequence of the electricity on board flickering in and out. Or maybe some piece of debris blocking the path down the hall. Casting a shadow Megumi hasn’t seen before. 

His instincts are proven correct — albeit not in the way that he expected — when they come upon a small set of stairs that lead to a metal lattice gate covering the entirety of the doorway, pulled closed and sealed with a padlock. 

“Damnit!” Yuuji curses. 

This door is their way out. The only good option they’ve found in a sea full of lesser evils. If they can make it through this door up to the Second Class decks, Megumi is certain they’ll be able to find a way out to the boat deck from there. 

But they have nothing to pick the lock with. No battering ram to force the gate open. No way to —

Muffled trudging up ahead turns into undeniable footsteps as a man wearing a White Star Line uniform walks past on the other side of the gate. 

All at once, it seems that Kugisaki is anywhere but here. Her shoulders back and head held high – a slightly exaggerated swing of her hips as she walks toward the gate. 

“Hey there sailor, wanna know a secret?” 

Her voice is low and lilting as she gazes up toward the crew member through batted lashes. 

It stops the man in his tracks. She curls a finger, gesturing him toward her. Megumi’s pretty sure he sees the man’s jaw go slack as he is powerless to disobey the siren’s call.

“I thought she was a lesbian?” Megumi whispers under his breath, as to not break the spell Kugisaki has cast.

“Just watch,” Yuuji mutters back. 

Everything shifts the second the man is within arm's reach of Kugisaki. 

She punches both hands through a gap in the gate and finds purchase on the man’s collar. Using it to yank him forward until his face is pressed firmly into the metal.

“Listen here you little shit,” she growls. “I know you have a key to this gate and you will give it to me right this second or so help me God the last thing you see will be me ripping nails out of this wall and shoving them through your eye sockets.”

She leaves no room for argument – existing beyond threatening, because something is only a threat if you don’t follow through. And Megumi does not have a single doubt about Kugisaki’s willingness to follow through on her words if this man does not do what she says.

The man comes to a similar conclusion. Frantically reaching into a pocket and producing a ring of keys. His trembling hands find Kugisaki’s as she releases her grip enough to take hold of the keys. Their ticket to freedom safely secured, the man is now of no interest to Kugisaki – a boone he uses to sprint as far away from their trio as possible.

It takes her a couple of tries to find the correct key, but before long, Kugisaki is unlocking the gate and pulling it to one side. 

“No sweat,” she retorts coyly, holding the door open for the two of them. 

Yuuji smiles brightly and follows through with an exaggerated bow. “What would I be without you?” 

She chuckles slightly, “Dead probably,” before falling in step behind them. 

Yuuji laughs too, but Megumi cannot find it in himself to do the same. Even in jest the idea of losing Yuuji is more than he can stomach. Yuuji notices this, nothing of Megumi ever escaping his attentive eye. He threads their fingers together with a whispered, “It’s ok.”

Megumi squeezes once. Yuuji squeezes back.

It’s all the time they can spare before the three of them are racing at breakneck speed up towards the boat deck. 

These decks are largely unfamiliar to Megumi, but he is able to see that the destruction has started to reach them all the same. 

Walls that were freshly painted for this voyage have begun to crack. Paint chipping and wood bowing from moisture. The carpet under their feet squelches with every step – water splashing onto their ankles as they continue forward.

Forward. Toward safety. Toward a future that includes all three of them. 

The decks begin to look familiar to Megumi. Paths he’s certain he’s traced before. Posted signage confirms his instinct that they’re on the First Class decks – putting the boat deck at long last back within their grasp.

Night air pierces all the way to his bone as he throws open a door to the outer deck. The coat Kamo gave him earlier only doing so much to stop the bitter chill.

He quickly takes stock of what’s transpired since he was last here. 

The angle of the ship is harder to ignore now. His calves forced to work overtime to keep his balance. The waterline is closer than it was before. Any remaining lifeboats likely won’t need even half the amount of time they did previously before being able to detach and row to safety.

He thinks to find a boat being lowered to check his assumption, but …

“They’re all gone.” Yuuji says, in time with his own thoughts.

Megumi takes a step forward. He’s more familiar with this portion of the ship than either of his companions. They need him now more than ever to get into the lifeboats.

“Excuse me,” he interjects to a passing steward. “Are there any boats left?”

“Yes, sir. There are a few on the other side. I’ll take you to –”

They don’t give the man a chance to finish his offer – already racing around to the other side of the deck. Pushing and shoving whoever they need to in order to make it to their destination. 

It’s not the same mad dash as before, still needing to reserve a portion of their attention for any last boats. Any last chance at survival. Any –

“Any last women and children?”

It brings all of them to a halt. They turn toward the man loading a lifeboat just ahead.

“Go,” Yuuji insists. “Megumi and I will keep looking. We’ll see you on the other side.”

His confidence is easy as always. Blind optimism that of course, of course, everything will work out just fine. It’s a sentiment that Megumi does not see reflected back in Kugisaki’s narrowed eyes and pursed lips.

Kugisaki’s spirit is tenacious, all fire and fervent passion. An active participant in her own life if Megumi has ever seen one. She will not allow a decision of this magnitude to be made for her. Though Megumi suspects there is not a future in which Yuuji lets her pass up this chance at safety. 

A fight with Yuuji is one that she will always pick, the two of them having long since earned that degree of familiarity. She hadn’t been there when they heard from Geto just what’s to come. Spared from the true weight of their fate. 

But then she looks at Megumi. And something in his gaze seals the certainty of their demise. 

His honesty is not like Yuuji’s. It doesn’t carry with it the promise of goodness he will see made true. A symphony of light, floating and lilting on air. 

No, Megumi’s honesty is a single note. Low and foreboding. A simple distress signal played loud for all to hear.

If she does not get on this lifeboat, she will die. 

He watches the truth of it settle over her. A pillar candle with an automated snuffer that has run out of time.

“Alright.”

She nods once before pulling Yuuji into a tight hug. Her face remains brave until right at the end – Yuuji brings a hand to cradle the back of her head and Megumi watches as tears burst forth. Fear and dread becoming tangible as the fate of her best friend is about to be fully out of her hands.

Megumi will not pretend to know Nobara well. So he’s not quite certain why he does it. 

But he reaches out, careful to avoid grazing Yuuji’s shoulder or hair as he does, and gently wipes the tears from her eyes. 

Water, the source of life, has turned against them this night. Seeping and corroding and dragging this ship under, one cabin at a time. Anything resembling fire, it’s natural opposite, consumed and altered until it is no longer itself. 

 It has indelibly marred their fates. Forcing them to adapt into versions of themselves who must now make impossible choice after impossible choice. 

Megumi will not let the water falling across her cheeks be another thing to snuff out the spitfire that is Kugisaki Nobara.

She takes this small kindness for what it is. Nodding solemnly at Megumi as she pulls apart from Yuuji. And when she does, Yuuji does not have to see her cry. Megumi suspects it means more to her than it does to him.

Before anyone else can answer the steward’s call, Kugisaki claims the seat for herself. They watch as the lifeboat is lowered and lowered and lowered until Kugisaki’s safety is secured. 

There’s no time for any more hesitation as Yuuji and Megumi continue further down the boat deck. Yuuji’s hand is intertwined with his once again. It’s somehow still warm, despite everything. A reminder of how simple things were mere hours ago. Of everything that awaits the two of them when they survive this.

They pass empty shipboard after empty shipboard. Each one a reminder that they’re running out of options.

Yuuji looks over his shoulder every few steps to ensure Megumi is still following behind him. He hasn’t dropped Megumi’s hand since he took it earlier, but still feels the need to double check anyway. Tonight has shown them that even the most certain of things are not sacred. Those too can be lost.

Nearly hidden behind the curve of a wall that bends toward the bow of the ship is a lifeboat about to be lowered down. 

A lifeboat with a single remaining seat.

“Get on.”

Megumi’s head snaps toward Yuuji in shock. He still hasn’t fully processed what’s in front of them. It’s all happening too fast.   

“What?” 

“Megumi, please.” His voice is low and insistent. Trying to avoid an argument at a time like this.

“No,” he pleads. “I’m not getting on without you.”

But how could Megumi not fight at a time like this? When else is he to fight? The time he was so certain he had feels like it’s slipping through his fingers and Megumi has always been a sore loser.

“Megumi, listen.”

He commands Megumi’s whole focus. Voice never raised, eternally gentle, even as he spells out why they cannot go together.

“We aren’t gonna be able to guarantee two seats on the same boat – it’s more important that we take what we can. There are still other boats being lowered. I can get on one of those. Everything’s gonna be alright.” 

Everything’s gonna be alright.

The words wash over him like the balm of Gilead. Soothing and healing every broken part of him.

Yuuji would never – could never – has never lied to him. He has seen a future Megumi could never imagine, but one he knows is out there waiting for him. If Yuuji says that everything will be alright … maybe it will be?

Seconds ago he was certain the answer was to fight. To hold on to the version of their escape he’d been promised. The one that included keeping the cold away by latching onto the sun beside him.

Is now the time to make a new decision? To adapt and overcome and follow logic even though his heart is pounding against his eyelids – threatening to burst forth if he does not let it through?

But the past is an anchor and old habits die hard.

Megumi does not say anything. Merely nods his head and allows himself to be guided into the final seat on this lifeboat.

Yuuji pulls him into a kiss that tastes too much like goodbye.

Goodbye.

The word catches in Megumi’s throat. Bitter and acrid and tinged with salt. He can’t say it. Cannot say anything. Can only sit and watch as the lifeboat begins to lower.

In all directions as far as his eyes can see, there is only Yuuji.

Yuuji’s face getting so far away from his. Yuuji’s pupils needle thin. Yuuji’s hand coming to rest on the railing out in front of him. Yuuji’s bicep just barely grazing the rope lowering the boat and taking Megumi far away from him.

This will save Megumi from dying. He is in the lifeboat. He will make it through the night. He will survive. 

Yet his heart is still so loud. Still threatening to burst forth from behind his eyelids. It’s spreading now. Pulsing through his throat, his chest, his fingertips. Settling heavily at the bottom of his gut, threatening to spill everything he’s holding in it now.

Holding in. Holding out. Holding back. Holding on. Holding the key to his childhood home in his hand, but turning the latch to find that a thick layer of dust has settled over sheet covered furniture while he’s been away. 

But then he looks closer and finds the footprints of a toddler and handprints of a teenager imprinted in the dust and realizes it must have looked like this all along. In being away, only now can he see it for what it was the whole time. 

That place used to appeal to him. To make sense. But the draw isn’t there anymore. That’s not what he wants. Not when the best of men has seen in him something worth guiding fondly toward a shared last sunrise.

Toward. To be going toward something. That is the life he has found in this place.

And in this moment, there is nothing ahead of him. All the light in the world behind him as he leaves Yuuji standing alone at the edge.

The edge. The thing Yuuji pulled him back from mere days ago. The place where he had stopped Megumi from walking into death blindfolded. What is that death to him now?

No, death is this lifeboat. Death is a future without Yuuji. Death will not happen to him on Titanic as long as Yuuji is by his side.

Megumi takes a deep breath. Stands. And leaps toward life. 

In a single bound he is clinging to the side of Titanic. Armpits hooked over a railing several decks below where he started. 

Far above him, Yuuji’s unmistakable voice is calling out to him. Shouting, “Megumi! Megumi!” 

Megumi goes to him. Forces his legs to carry him forward and forward and forward. He doesn’t care that his lungs already hurt from breathing in frozen air or that exerting ice cold muscles feels like tendons breaking and shattering.

No, because waiting for him is Yuuji. Any pain is worth going through if Yuuji is there waiting for him on the other side. 

The corridor he’s been following opens into a large communal space in what Megumi assumes are the Second Class decks. He should still be able to get back to the boat deck from here if he can just figure out how. But figuring out takes time – time that he does not have anymore. Time he was foolish to think he ever had. Time –

“ Megumi.”

– stands still as Yuuji finds him in this place. As Yuuji steps out of memory and into his arms. 

“Megumi, Megumi.” Yuuji kisses him and Megumi is more certain than he ever has been of anything that coming back was the right choice. That he did the right thing.

Yuuji cradles Megumi’s face in both hands. Runs a thumb across his cheekbones. Megumi does the same, tracing the dimples under Yuuji’s eyes. 

“Why did you do that?” Yuuji sputters, mind and heart racing to catch up to the fact that this is real.

“I couldn’t lose you again. I just got you back.”

The simple truths in life are the sweetest and this one is tooth aching saccharine. Megumi will not lose. Not today. 

Metal creaks and groans under their feet, followed by the sound of moving water close behind. Both sounds are dwarfed in short order by the crying of a small child, a little girl, down what must be one of the nearby halls.

They turn to each other. The next words out of Yuuji’s mouth are, “We have to help her.”

It’s all the warning Megumi gets before Yuuji is leading him down the halls toward the sound of a small body racked with sobs.

There’s more water in this part of the ship than there was earlier. Before, it was only grazing his ankles as he ran. Now his calves sting and prick with every step as he trudges through the water.

There’s no logic to it though. Impossible to predict if the next hallway they turn down will be more or less flooded than the last. His clothes alternating between heavy with the weight of the water and paper thin as the air cuts right through them. 

And it’s always changing, the ever present sloshing from decks above or far below echoing down hallway after hallway. Their origin impossible to determine. Destruction is lurking on all sides and is not a question of if or when, but a steady march toward the inevitable.

They pass one section of wall where Megumi can see water dripping through the seams of  the iron welding. It’s only a matter of time until the pressure is too great and the whole thing bursts open, blocking the whole hallway from reuse.

They finally stumble upon the young girl, blessedly in a less flooded part of this area than they’d just come from. Taking the same way out isn’t an option, but they’ll find another. There’s always another way out.

Yuuji scoops her up and takes the girl into his arms as Megumi begins to chart a new path out of here. She’s terrified – and truly, how could she not be – but Yuuji does his best to soothe her. Gently telling her that everything will be alright. That they’re going to get her out of here. That they’re going to make sure she’s safe.

Time to weigh his options being a luxury he does not have, Megumi picks the path opposite of the one he and Yuuji took to get here. 

They make it one turn down their new path when aggressive yelling in a language Megumi doesn’t recognize stops them in their tracks. He does not need to understand the specifics to comprehend that this man before them is clearly the girl’s father. 

He snatches her from Yuuji’s arms, looking her over to make sure she’s alright. Alternating between comforting his daughter and screaming at Yuuji. The want to explain himself is written all over Yuuji’s face, but there is no time to parse through it all now. They take off their separate ways. Yuuji and Megumi down the unknown path, and the man and his daughter…

Understanding flashes through them both at the same time. Turning and racing to catch up, the whole time screaming, “Not that way – wait ! Turn around! Stop!”

He knows what’s coming before he sees it. The sound of a dam burst of water emerging through iron walls unmistakable. The leak he saw earlier is now a gorge – funneling gallons and gallons of water into the hallway. 

All he can do is watch as the girl and her father are swept away in the current and dragged deeper and deeper down into the belly of the ship. 

Yuuji lets out an anguished cry, but Megumi is already leading them away. Determined to not share the same fate as those two. There is no time to mourn, they have to run.

The path behind them fills with excess water. Each step taken keeping them away from it being their last. It never leaves his awareness – how close behind them the water is. It’s never allowed to, water clipping his heels and splashing up his legs and back.

The first path that leads them up and doesn’t keep them on the same level he takes without hesitation. A small staircase that leads to another metal lattice door. It’s different than the one from earlier though, blocking the path forward at a gnarled angle. It seems as though someone tried to pull it closed but jammed it into the closure instead.

Megumi tries to pull it open to no avail. Yuuji takes a turn next, wriggling and yanking, but it still won’t budge.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Yuuji groans, slamming a palm into the metal door yet again blocking their path. 

Unlike last time though, there’s no lock to be undone. Yuuji still has the keys from earlier, so if that were the case they’d be out of here already. No, instead they are met with a shear test of strength.

They don’t have time to waste on this. Every second they spend trying to get this door shoved open is a second they could be making it further away from the geyser burst they just barely outran and toward safety. Megumi thinks to go back down the stairs and search for another way out, but the water below is rising faster than he predicted. Already rising past the ceiling of the deck below and rapidly nearing their perch on top of the stairs. 

It’s a sobering reality - making the choice for them that they will stay here and solve this together.  They move and work in tandem as if they’ve done it their whole lives. Maybe they really have, Megumi’s life only beginning in earnest the moment Yuuji pulled him toward it. 

Megumi hooks his fingers through the lattice and begins to pull – Yuuji finding a grip on the mangled door handle and using it to push. Iron groaning and creaking but not budging. Water seeping through his shoes and into his socks — the icy cold shocking his system as a thousand individual needle pricks pierce his skin. 

This strategy is clearly not working as well as they’d like it to, so they try another. Yuuji slamming the full weight of his body into the already broken side he was pushing on earlier, no doubt hoping to take advantage of its lack of structural integrity. 

But Megumi cannot just stand by and do nothing. Not when the water is getting higher with each passing breath — nearly up to his hips. As it hits the outside of his diaphragm his breaths come in shakier. The prospect of moving his belly to take in as much oxygen as he truly needs hellish when that means exposing more skin to the stabbing cold water. 

He would rather shrink away from it. Would rather do what he can to protect his organs from the water. But sometimes self preservation isn’t taking the easy way out. Sometimes it’s hunkering down and doing the hard thing.

Megumi retakes his original position. Fingers threaded through the gate and knees bent. Engaging every muscle in his body to pull . The heat of the strain doing nothing to combat the cold.

Panic starts anew as the water rises to his armpits. The lights around them flicker and strain. Flashing them in and out of total darkness. His heart is pounding through his whole body — the pause between each beat shortening and shortening as their time continues to run out. 

Yuuji puts a foot up on the wall behind him and uses it to give him extra force, just enough to –

In a single sharp motion, the door is pushed to one side. Megumi doesn’t have time to move his fingers, grimacing as they’re crushed in the bars of the door. The pressure re-opening the cut Kamo gave him earlier today.

This wound is only a few hours old.

Walking is no longer an option, water levels leaving just enough room for their heads, so they’re forced to swim. Following the path of the hallways. Desperately trying to follow the path up.

But of course up means heading against the current. Forcing their way upstream. Taking hold of moldings on the wall and pipes on the ceiling to keep them from being dragged under. 

At irregular junctures there are particularly thick sections of ceiling pipes or low cut doorways that force them to fully submerge their heads under the water before coming out on the other side. 

Again and again they are dunked into the water and reemerge. Seeking Epiphany, but atonement for man’s hubris never comes. 

All they are left with is the original sin. Cold water that sucks breath from his lungs. The only reason he does not cry out with every passing second is because he simply does not have air to. 

More than once the electricity threatens to sputter out entirely. Flickering and straining and sometimes giving way to darkness. Each time is like the first. His heart sputters and looks for Yuuji but cannot find him. Nothing feels real until the lights come back and he knows that Yuuji is still there.

It is through sheer luck that they finally spot a way out. A staircase with water spilling down it, but at a pace that would actually allow them to walk – not swim – back up to the boat deck. 

Muscles aching and weak, Megumi begins climbing the stairs. His clothes cling to his skin, the weight of his fully waterlogged wool coat threatening to pull him back down with every step.

The second they’re fully out of the water, Yuuji takes Megumi’s left hand and tenderly assesses the damage. His ring finger is spilling fresh blood, but Megumi can still move and feel each digit, which is all he has time to care about right now. Yuuji places a gentle kiss over the spot. Megumi can tell that he wants to do more, but they can’t waste anymore time.

The stairwell spits them out in the far side of the First Class Dining Hall. They’re so close to the boat deck now – back to cabins Megumi knows intimately. They can make it back. They can –

“Geto?”

The man is so still at first Megumi assumes he’s a figment of his imagination or some forgotten relic, but his eyes do not deceive him. Standing in front of the still roaring fireplace is Geto Suguru. Frozen in time like a memory and clearly lost in one himself.

Megumi goes to the man, jostling his shoulder and shaking him from his reverie. “There’s still time. You have to at least try.”

Geto looks through Megumi before looking at him. Voice small and unsteady when he finds it. “I’m sorry, Megumi. I – I failed you. She wasn’t strong enough.”

It’s as though he is meeting Geto in some liminal space – a waiting room between death and life. But waiting is death. Here especially. Megumi knows it’s a matter of when, not if, the water will rise and fill this room. An eventuality driving toward them like a freight train. 

Yet Geto is suspended like a dust mite in the air, catching the light as it shines in from outside. Waiting for something to throw the window open and let all the stale air out. 

“We need to keep moving,” Yuuji adds in a low voice. And Yuuji is right of course. They need to leave this place immediately if they want any chance of survival.

Megumi looks to Geto and knows that he will not follow and feels his heart shatter. 

He doesn’t want to accept it. He wants to drag Geto up with him if that’s what it takes. Wants to take him kicking and screaming as far away from this place as he can. Wants to bargain and barter and beg – anything to take him from this certain death.

But that’s what Megumi wants. Not what Geto wants.

If Megumi is learning anything, it is that you have to choose to come back toward life yourself. 

Yuuji gave him a choice. He didn’t pull Megumi back over the railing whether he liked it or not. He extended a hand. And Megumi took it. He chose to go with Yuuji. To follow where he led. The path he has been shown is all things magical and fairytale come to fruition. He knows the good there is here – has seen and felt it with his own heart. Finding it was still his choice though. He will not deny that choice to another.

Megumi looks toward Geto. Attempts to commit his face to memory in what he knows will be their last meeting. 

“Promise you’ll try.”

“I promise, Megumi.”

They both know that it’s a lie. But it’s one of those things you say. Practiced pleasantries even at the end. Even now their world keeps them from being honest. 

Yuuji takes Megumi by the hand and begins to lead him away. The trip back to the boat deck is short. It couldn’t have been long since they were last here – half an hour at most – and yet the world they walk into couldn’t be more different than the one they left. 

The first thing he notices is the strain on his thighs – fighting to keep him upright against the sharp slant of the ground beneath his feet. Gravity is not on his side – threatening to yank him off balance and send him tumbling down toward the ever rising water.

There is still music playing, but it’s not the jovial wedding marches and soiree dances it was before. It’s a song Megumi has only heard once before as a small child when it was played at his Mother’s funeral. Nearer My God To Thee he’s fairly certain it’s called. 

The lifeboats are truly all gone now. There are no more stewards calling for any last women and children or orderly lines waiting to board. Only empty shipboards and a collective understanding of what that means for everyone left behind.

More a frantic mob than a group of passengers, there is shouting and screaming on all sides. People pushing and shoving – frightened of what’s to come. Megumi’s grip on Yuuji tightens to the point of cruelty, but Yuuji is clutching him just as much. Neither of them will let go. They will not lose each other this night. 

Yuuji turns back to him and says sternly, “We have to try to stay out of the water for as long as possible.”

There is agency in his voice. Confidence and certainty Megumi would struggle to emulate. Yuuji has not lived a lavish life. He has had to be innovative and scrappy and creative in order to be by Megumi’s side right now. If anyone knows what to do in a crisis it’s him. If anyone will make sure that they both survive this night it’s him.

Yuuji guides them forward, toward the stern of the ship. Turning back every few steps to make sure Megumi is still there. 

A small group of people cling to a priest reciting Last Rites. Megumi cannot tell whether their lack of desire to save themselves in this life – only to prepare themselves for the next – is an act of forethought or a waste of time. Either way, he grimaces. 

Every step hardfought – thighs demanding mercy from the incline and night air cutting through his soaked clothes – they make it to the stern of the ship. Yuuji positions Megumi so that his belly is flush with the railing then stands directly behind him, bracketing him in place with his arms.

He tries to catch his breath – to find any sort of comfort in Yuuji being right behind him. Maybe it will come if he tries harder.

Further down the throng of people clutching the rails, Megumi sees a few hook a leg over the edge and leap off the side of the ship into the water meters below. Just days ago Megumi had almost done the same thing. Almost leapt over the edge never to see another sunrise. What a different man he is now.

A mechanical brrrmmmph sends the entire night into total darkness as the electricity finally gives out. There are only stars. The moon herself turning a blind eye to all who will die tonight. 

Megumi can only see a few feet in any direction. There is just Yuuji and the railing they cling to and a sea of screaming. 

Some of it is words. Half remembered prayers and curses and exclamations. Most of it is just sound though. Unformed syllables with no language to dilute the fear in their hearts. 

Again, Megumi is put in a situation where he has every right to scream. To yell and call out and say anything. But still he says nothing.

If this is not enough, then what will be? What will finally be the thing that pushes him to say something?

Like a maw opening up from Hell, the sound and force of a shuttering explosion shake Titanic. It vibrates through his bones – rattling his teeth and ribs. Glass shatters and wooden planks snap. Metal grinds against itself, like trainwheels coming upon an unexpected turn and attempting to make it through.

Megumi looks behind him, pupils needle thin, and watches as Titanic splits in two. 

A gnarled mess of twisted metal and broken steel jut out at odd angles from what remains of the stern. The bow side of the ship is completely invisible as it is drawn further under the ocean – the force of the separation sending it like a torpedo into the bottom of the Atlantic.

Megumi’s heart is in his throat. There is screaming all around him – human and metallic. He can still feel Yuuji pressed behind him, so all is not lost. As long as they’re together Megumi can survive anything. 

The stern bobs like a cork. Fully vertical and all that remains of the Ship of Dreams.

For a moment, it seems as though they could stay like this forever. Could spend however long it takes for help to arrive clinging to the railing.

The moment passes.

The ship beneath them groans and trembles and begins to follow its other half down to the ocean floor.

Yuuji hurries to guide Megumi to the outside of the railing. Keeping him steady. Making sure he doesn’t lose his balance during the climb. Megumi does the same for him once he’s there. Extending a hand and ensuring that Yuuji gets to the other side with him. 

The familiarity of the gesture sends his mind careening back to just days ago. When clutching to this railing was a man who didn’t see a path forward. Who spent his whole life wishing for it to be over. Who loved nothing and hated everything.  

But then Megumi had seen –

“Yuuji,” Megumi turns over his shoulder to look back at the man who saved him. In every way that a person can be saved. “This is where we first met.” 

Yuuji kisses him greedily and Megumi lets him. A small glimmer of light and hope in this endless night.

The kiss is broken as they’re jolted forward. All Megumi can see below him is black water and an ever shrinking fraction of Titanic’s stern.

Yuuji presses his mouth into the shell of Megumi’s ear, not risking his words being lost in the cacophony. “No matter what happens, don’t let go of my hand. Take a big breath right before we hit the water and don’t stop kicking until you make it back to the surface again. Got it?”

“Got it,” Megumi nods. Yuuji kisses his cheek.

“We’re gonna make it. Trust me.”

“I trust you.”

Megumi forces himself to keep his eyes open as the water gets ever closer. Needing to time his final breath just right so that he gets as much air as possible before going under. He waits until he feels the sea mist across his face before taking one last deep breath.

It takes all his strength to not immediately forfeit it as arctic water stabs through him. A thousand pinpricks of pain on every cell of his body. There’s no escaping it like there had been before. No small part of him spared from the water’s clutches. He’d thought every part of himself had known pain, but this water has shown him how wrong he was. The kind of agony that wakes you in a cold sweat for years to come at the memory of it. 

The ship has its own gravity – threatening to pull him down with it. But Megumi remembers Yuuji’s words. He doesn’t let go of his hand and kicks as hard as he can. He doesn’t let go of his hand and kicks as hard as he can. He doesn’t let go –

Yuuji’s hand is ripped from his by the force of the current, leaving Megumi clutching empty air. It’s impossible to see where he was pulled. If it was toward the waterline or further below. Megumi is guided only by instinct — his body’s demand for air getting harder to deny. 

He’ll find Yuuji once he reaches the surface. He has to.

Kicking and kicking and kicking like never before, Megumi finally breaks through the water’s surface. Air floods his lungs — sharp and crisp. The soreness in his chest and nostrils and throat background noise compared to the relief of oxygen. 

It’s short lived. Immediately Megumi joins the screaming fray floating alongside him in the water. But unlike them, he is not calling for help — for some act of divine intervention to step in and save them. He is calling out for Yuuji. Desperate to find the stolen piece of himself amongst these other lost souls. 

Again and again he calls to Yuuji, praying that by some miracle —

A hand on top of his head forces him back under the water. A stranger kicking and thrashing next to him screams something Megumi can no longer hear. Water floods his mouth and nose. There is no moment of preparation like there was the last time he was fully submerged. 

Megumi kicks hard. Fighting to break free of his stranger’s hold. But he had the jump on him and a better angle to begin with and no matter how hard Megumi tries he can’t stop himself from being forced under. 

Each new plunge takes him by surprise – this man throwing his whole body weight on top of Megumi in an attempt to keep himself from drowning. Everything is so cold that it burns – his lungs the center of a forest fire spreading across his chest and up through his throat.  

His vision starts to lose focus around the edges — salt water stinging his eyes as he tries to desperately look around. Each time he manages to break the surface line of the water, he calls out for Yuuji, doing his best to cry for help when he can. 

The choice weighs on him — lungs not able to take anything in if they’re too busy forcing sound out. Each plunge is harder than the last. Harder to resist. 

From far above, Megumi can just make out a distorted, “Don’t touch him!”

Yuuji.

Megumi is freed from the man keeping him under the water, gasping air greedily as soon as he has some back. 

The first thing he sees is Yuuji as he shoves the man off Megumi. Tearing into him for daring to touch Megumi like that. The chivalry still manages to move him because even in a crisis, Yuuji cannot stop himself from protecting Megumi, but he knows they cannot stay here.

Yuuji knows it too, leading them out of the fray. He calls behind him to Megumi, “Keep swimming Megumi! Come on! You can do this! Just a little further!”

Megumi does his best to obey. Forcing his muscles to begin the arduous task of movement and following Yuuji away from the screaming, thrashing horde. 

He cannot risk another person trying to drown him. Being under the water like that again spells certain death. Megumi can already feel his teeth clacking and clattering against each other, strokes stuttered as he attempts to keep swimming. The tears that pricked the corners of his eyes as his body fought to keep him alive crystallize across his now frost nipped cheeks. 

“It’s so … cold,” Megumi stutters, teeth and tongue tripping over the words but trying to force them out anyway. 

“I know, baby. I know,” Yuuji calls, words catching in a similar way, “Look for something floating. Some debris. Something.”

All of the detritus around them is too small to be of any use. There is an abundance of broken chairs and splintered banisters and abandoned life belts and a wooden door ripped from its hinges and —

The door. 

Yuuji sees it too. Finally, a place for them to rest. It will still be miserable and painful, but at least they’ll be out of the water. They will hold each other close and wait for help to come and everything will be alright. 

One hand on the center of his back and the other steadying the floating door, Yuuji helps him onto it. The night air clings to him as much as his soaked clothes do, but at least he’s out of the water. Megumi does what he can to return the gesture, but Yuuji can’t get the balance right and Megumi can’t help the startled cry he lets out as he is yet again plunged into the water. 

They try several more times. Each attempt sends them back into the ocean. There’s always a moment right before the fall where it seems like they’ve figured it out. Where they look into each other’s eyes — filled with fresh relief — just to see the gaze reconfigured into frustration and pain. False hope yanked from underneath their feet again and again that they can both fit on this door. 

Eventually there’s no denying it. This door will not support both of them. It’s large enough that it should, but something in the balancing of it won’t let both of them rest together.

“We’ll have to take turns,” Yuuji decides, already helping Megumi back onto the door. Making the choice for them that he will take his turn in the water first.

Megumi sees the logic in it, but wishes he didn’t. His mind comprehends that it makes sense for him to take a turn on the door first – still not fully recovered from the earlier drowning. The lingering salt water stings his lungs and he is powerless to suppress the shivers wracking his body. 

But his heart cannot stand that he is the cause of any of Yuuji’s suffering. The other man hides it well, but his teeth are chattering and his shoulders are trembling as he puts his arms onto the wooden door. 

“Someone will come for us soon,” Yuuji encourages. “Another ship or the rest of the lifeboats. Just hang on a little longer Megumi.”

How in the face of all of this does he find it in him to be optimistic? To use what little spare energy he can muster to comfort and encourage Megumi through it?

There is no one else like him.

“I’m so grateful to have met you, Yuuji.” He tries to lean in to kiss him, but his body won’t cooperate.

Yuuji meets him halfway, seeing the gesture for what it is. Kissing Yuuji normally ignites a fire within him – warms him up from the inside out. This time, he can’t help but notice how cold the other man is. How cold they both are.

He tries not to think about it.

There is nothing out here but thought. Dancing on the surface line as arctic breeze comes out of nowhere and demands to be felt. Thoughts of salvation. Thoughts of endings. Thoughts of what comes next. Thoughts of what death smells like.  

What if they die here tonight?

He tries not to think about it.

People are still screaming – thoughts becoming sound. Voices pleading for the lifeboats to turn around. That there are still survivors. That there is still time to save the people in the water. To turn back and help.

What if help never comes?

He tries not to think about it.

His father is somewhere out here. Kamo too. No doubt both of them ended up on lifeboats. Even if it meant pushing someone else off. They will make it through this night. They will continue to live meaningless lives, but these people in the water – good people. People who have never hurt anyone and were on this ship to celebrate, to start anew, to see the world – those are the ones who will die tonight. When it should be them. 

What if Kamo succeeds in killing him and Yuuji afterall?

He tries not to think about it.

Megumi tries to shift his weight but finds he cannot. Ice crystals adorn his arms and chest and legs like an Immortelle. Perhaps his limbs would feel heavy if he tried to move them, but they no longer respond when he tries. Not even to shiver. The cold makes the stillness – the silence – more stark. Breath leaves his lips in thick white clouds. 

What if he and Yuuji freeze to death?

He tries not to think about it.

It’s quieter than it was. The water has joined his body in stillness. There is no more thrashing of people trying not to drown. There is no more screaming because there is no sound. No quiet prayers that they make it through the night. No labored breathing. No chattering teeth. 

He hasn’t heard anything from Yuuji in too long. 

He tries not to think about it.

He makes attempt after attempt to change his thoughts or stop them all together, but they continue to come. Path after path leads him back to thinking of Yuuji’s death. 

Hope is such a fickle thing. Mere hours ago he was overflowing with it. So certain that they would both make it through the night. So certain that beyond all of this is a life worth moving toward. It feels so far away now. That optimism he took for granted.

He knows death is real because he feels it in his body. His limbs are corpse cold – unmoving and stagnant. His heart rate is nearly nonexistent. It no longer thrums in his ears or bangs on his chest. For the first time he doesn’t want to die, but is so aware that he could. The human body can only handle so much and his has been pushed to the brink tonight. 

People prepare contingencies for death, right? They write wills and tell their loved ones if they want to be buried or cremated and make sure their affairs are in order.

Megumi doesn’t have any material possessions. Not anymore. He left all of that behind. All he cares about is Yuuji. Doing right by him. Honoring him. Cherishing him. Is there anything left unsaid or undone? 

He thinks back to the first time they met. To the stories they shared. To the future they dreamed up. To the feeling of being intertwined together. To the despair of losing him. To the boundless joy of getting him back. Cataloguing each moment. Looking for anything missing. What else is there?

Love.

Realization batters him with a club as he realizes he’s never told Yuuji that he loves him. It colors each moment, but has never been said explicitly – never laid bare. How could he die without Yuuji hearing him say those words? Without knowing how it feels to hear Yuuji say them back?

He must say something while he still can.

Megumi presses onto his forearms, tilting his body so that his chest and head is facing Yuuji. More than the strain in his muscles is the need to tell Yuuji that he loves him.

“Yuuji.” It catches in his throat, the cold making his words come out through a clenched jaw. “I don’t think I’ll get another chance to tell you. So I – I need you to know…” 

He waits until Yuuji’s eyes meet his and suddenly anything is possible. Suddenly he is anywhere but here – surrounded and carried and held in a ray of sunlight. 

“I love you.”

In actually saying it, Megumi can’t recall another time he’s said that out loud before. No one else he’s ever known has been worth the words. Even if he had tried to say them before, he understands that they would have lacked the meaning he finds in them now.

He didn’t know love until he met Yuuji. 

Such a small word contains such a fullness. There’s the way it makes him feel – the butterflies in his stomach and the undeniable gravity that draws him closer to Yuuji at every opportunity. There’s the things it makes him do – finding the courage to leave his world behind in search of a better one. There’s the things it makes him want – slow mornings and shared memories and stories of the two of them from their youth to their old age. 

The confession settles over Yuuji like snowfall – delicate and all encompassing. He smiles and it is bright and brilliant and Megumi could go snowblind from just looking at him.

But the snow is not tightly packed. It’s champagne powder. Yuuji falls right through – face reordering. Stricken. Smile morphing into staunch determination. 

“You can’t say your goodbyes. Not yet.” He shakes his head fervently.

If now is not the time for goodbye, then when is? No one is coming back for them. The nearest ship must be hours from them. The lifeboats show no signs of returning. They are not going to make it through this night. 

“If you die here Yuuji, I might as well be dead too.”

“Don’t you say that,” Yuuji snaps. Not with any malice – he would never be cruel to Megumi. No, he looks like he might cry.

“Your life is so precious Megumi. Promise me that you’ll make it count. Please . Live a long life. Go and do everything we talked about.”

Stubbornness overwhelms Megumi because that’s their life. Built and created and revered in Megumi’s mind because it is a thing that they would share together. He doesn’t want that future if Yuuji isn’t there to live it with him.

Yuuji inches closer, pulling himself up slightly on the door. He’s close enough now that his breath dances across Megumi’s cheeks. 

“You’re gonna die an old man, warm in your bed, surrounded by people who care about you. Not here. Not like this.”

He says it like he says everything, with a fierce certainty that by saying it aloud he will speak it into existence. That simply deciding something can be true – no matter how impossible – makes it so.

“I didn’t know it could be this cold,” Megumi stutters. “I … I don’t think I …”

Megumi has never been like him. Any future he envisioned for himself before Titanic was the same tired iteration of the same tired man doing the same tired routines until time or loneliness caught up to him first. 

If hope is a muscle, Megumi’s atrophied long ago. He barely understood how he was able to find it with Yuuji just days ago. When things were simple. When they were happy. When anything was possible. But things are different now. There is no foundation for the hope to be built on. How could he – 

“Listen to me, Megumi.”

Yuuji’s voice commands his full attention, as it always does. It always has. It always will. A power the other man has never once taken for granted, even now. Regarding him with such gentleness – such compassion – such love. Megumi listens with his whole heart. 

“I need you to promise me. Promise me that you will live. For as long as you’re able.” Tears prick the corners of Yuuji’s eyes – the middles going all glassy. The cold cracks his voice, but he pushes through. “No matter … how hard it gets. Or how dark it seems. Promise me that you will keep living. And never let go of that promise.” 

It’s phrased like a dying wish. Like a sick man seeking Viaticum and Megumi is bread and wine consecrated. 

And Megumi understands that it’s wrong to deny someone their dying wish. That it is cruel to refuse them, even if what they want simply cannot happen. That what he is supposed to do is smile and acquiesce even if he does not understand how he could possibly keep this promise.

He cannot refuse, but he cannot accept because that is not the future he wants. One where he keeps on living and Yuuji isn’t by his side for all of it. Whether it is life or death that comes for them next, Megumi wants to follow where Yuuji goes. Wants to face it together.

Now Yuuji wants Megumi to promise that he will put himself living a long life above living one with Yuuji? It’s absurd. He can’t … It’s …

Yuuji is still staring back at him. Waiting for a response. Even in Megumi’s delay, his certainty is unwavering. There is anticipation and muscles trembling from the cold and a soft smile reserved only for him, but no doubt anywhere in his handsome face. Yuuji would never ask the impossible of him, so there must be a way. There has to be a way.

Life must be more important somehow. 

If Yuuji sees the path forward, then Megumi must see the world as Yuuji does to find it. In all their conversations about living, Megumi has come to understand it as going forward. Moving towards something. 

It sounds so simple in those terms. Find something to go toward and do that until you have a new story to tell. A life lived is a patchwork quilt of stories stitched together like laughter at the sewer’s sides.

Simple, certainly. Easy on the other hand, far from it.

To say that he will go and seek out and continue forward is one thing. To actually do it – to not just let it be hollow words and broken promises – is much harder. Things get in the way. Things fall through. Life is rarely as simple as it is on paper in practice.

Megumi doesn’t want to lie to Yuuji. He has never – could never – would never lie to him and he will not start now. 

Is this a promise he can keep? 

Doing it will be hard. Full stop. But Yuuji is worth doing hard things for. 

He’s always been powerless when it comes to Yuuji. From the very first night they met. Any request Yuuji has of him, Megumi will find some way to see it done. No matter how hard it gets, this one is no exception.

Yuuji is worth doing hard things for. Yuuji is worth living for.

He can hold onto this. This he can keep sacred.

The words fall from his lips with a nod, “Never let go.”

“Never let go,” Yuuji echoes. “Promise me.”

“I promise.”

Yuuji kisses the top of Megumi’s hand. His lips are chapped and blue and Megumi knows it must be painful, but he does it anyway.

The stars shine so bright when there is nothing to obscure them. Each one its own sun. Each one part of telling the story of a constellation. Yuuji is like the stars in that way.

Celestial bodies whisper to him from on high. Sweetly singing of all that they have seen. Of battles won and wagers lost and lessons learned. They sing over one another. Stories and voices overlapping and enmeshing with each other. 

Orion sings the loudest. The ballad of a lover preserved by his paramore for all eternity. His song is just for Megumi. Calling to him. Pulling him closer. Chanting the safety and ease that comes after eternal rest. 

The stars will welcome him if he comes home to them. He will shine like gold forever. Warm and bright. 

Megumi feels warmth course through him just thinking about it. Cheeks flushed and rosy. His coat feels too hot. He didn’t think he could be warm again, but the stars – they speak of a fire that could turn even this ocean into ash. One where he becomes that fire. Where he finds the warmth he has craved for so long this cold and bitter night. 

Light from above, from his left, calling him –

Something is different. This star is not like the others. It’s hazier. Catching in the fog over the water. 

A sound cuts through the silence. Rowing. Oars. Shouting. A lone voice calling out for survivors. 

Megumi tilts his head to the left as much as he’s able. His suspicions are confirmed as a lifeboat begins rowing closer to them.

Finally.

At long last they can get into a boat. They will make it through the night. Everything will be alright. 

Megumi turns toward Yuuji, voice a whisper as he tells him, “Yuuji … Yuuji the boats are here.” 

Yuuji doesn’t stir. Doesn’t move at all actually. No sigh of relief. No teasing I told you so. No attempt to help him signal for the boats.

“They’re here – they’re … Yuuji …”

Megumi cups his cheeks. Shakes his shoulders. Squeezes his hands. None of it wakes him.

“No … Yuuji. No. ”

Again and again, Megumi tries to stir him from sleep. He pleads and begs and bargains with Yuuji, with God, with the world, with anyone who can hear him to please let this not be true. For this to be some sick and twisted nightmare that he can still wake up from. One last vindictive jab by this horrible night before the two of them see the sun rising in the morning. 

Nothing changes. 

There is only one conclusion. 

One that he cannot bear to name, but that does not make it any less true. A simple truth. But not an easy one.

And so the first hard thing that Megumi must do for Yuuji is accept that he is dead.

That he will never watch another winter bloom into spring or tell another joke or draw another portrait or dance to another song or celebrate another birthday or share another smile. That Megumi will never be able to do any of these things again without first thinking of Yuuji. 

In that case though – if all of these moments of life that Megumi now seeks each contain a piece of Yuuji at their core – then perhaps Yuuji is not gone as Megumi might think.

If Yuuji is life itself then even death cannot take him. Not forever. 

Life has not always ended when a pulse goes flat or breath is no longer drawn. The ancient Romans believed that if the lips of a dying man were kissed by his lover, his soul could be captured and preserved and continue living alongside the soul of the one who saved him.

In so many ways, Yuuji is the one that saved Megumi. Pulled his flesh back from the edge and taught his heart the shape of hope and made his mind somewhere he wasn’t scared to be.

For the first time, Megumi tastes what it’s like to be the savior.  

He presses one final kiss to Yuuji’s lips. Wills himself to commit to memory the way they fit together. Forces himself to ignore how cold his body is. How still he’s gone. How Yuuji isn’t reaching back for him. 

Megumi forces himself to capture in his mind the face of the man he loves. To find beauty in the once sunkissed skin, now palad and laden with ice crystals. To memorize the way the dimples by his eyes curved and the pink of his hair.

The lifeboat shrinks away in the distance. Heading off to gather up any other survivors in the area.

Megumi thinks about letting it go. He could stay here. His body has fought so hard – has given so much. The thought of doing more unappealing when doing nothing means that he could finally rest.

After all, the past is an anchor and old habits die hard.

But being with Yuuji has shown him that new paths are worth forging. That just because something has always been one way doesn’t mean change is impossible. That good things await him on the other side. 

More important than any of that though, Megumi will not let his last words to Yuuji be a lie.

So he makes a new choice. 

For so long, Megumi has said nothing, but now he is fighting to be heard. His voice is barely able to surpass a strained whisper – frozen all the way to his vocal chords – but he makes up for it by splashing feverishly in the water. One hand steadfast in its grip to Yuuji. The other pounding the water’s surface again and again. 

Before, when everyone was floundering and pleading for help it might have gone unnoticed. Now, it’s the only movement amongst the debris. Visible for meters in all directions.

Oars strike the water – echoing his call – and Megumi knows that the lifeboat is coming back to him. He will be true to his word. He will make it through this night. He will live.

The lifeboat is within sight – within grasp. 

Megumi’s first priority is getting Yuuji on board. He gingerly peels the other man’s arms from the wooden door. Ready to deliver him to the people on the lifeboat. He shifts his weight to pull Yuuji through the water and –

The door shifts underneath him. He can’t get his balance right in time. Body still not obeying him as well as it should. He stumbles. Losing his grip. Losing –

Yuuji.

For the first time in his life, Megumi screams.

It tears at his throat – raw and guttural. Tears burst forth, spilling down his face. His cheeks pinch and nose crinkles as he makes more room for the cries to pour from his throat – his chest – his heart.

Yuuji’s body sinks below the waterline. Sinking further and further away from him. It’s all – he – he can’t. This is wrong. All wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. 

I have to go back for h–

The thought is cut short by the hands of the other men on board the lifeboat as they yank him back on board. Dragging him away from Yuuji. Forcing him to sit by as they row away. 

Yuuji deserved a proper funeral. To be brought back to his hometown so he could be laid to rest near his grandfather. Now Megumi could not even do him this kindness.

There is nothing of Yuuji that remains. No photos or final momentos Megumi can hold close. Everyone he meets for the rest of his life will never know the brightest smile or the kindest soul the world has ever made. They will never be able to know Megumi fully because there is a part of him that lives in the bottom of the Atlantic.

No. Not lives. Yuuji only lives in memory now.

Megumi calls to mind Yuuji’s smile. The lilt of his laugh. The way Yuuji’s hand intertwined perfectly with his. The timbre of his voice. The amber of his eyes when they glinted in the sun. 

Just to make sure he can.

Megumi does not say anything else while on board the lifeboat. He doesn’t realize one of the other men must have wrapped a blanket around his shoulders until he goes to pull it tighter around himself. 

Time passes like a rolling mist, appearing and dissipating at odd junctures. It could be hours. It could be days. He can’t quite say.

The fog shifts, and from out of the center appears a ship with the name Carpathia painted on its side. 

Distantly, he is aware of cheering and shouting and waving for help. It’s hard to say if it’s coming from his lifeboat or one of the others. Megumi merely sits. 

And waits.

When it’s their time, Megumi boards the Carpathia. It’s smaller than the Titanic and carried her own passengers before coming to their aid. Everyone is brought to their boat deck. Blankets and coats are passed around to help fend off the cold.

Megumi learns that he is one of six survivors pulled out of the water when the boats went back. There must have been hundreds who went into the ocean that night. Each with loved ones to come home to and dreams yet to be discovered and favorite meals never to be shared again. Out of all of them … six.

The sun is beginning to rise. A new day and a new future coming with it.

Off the stern of the ship, the Statue of Liberty looms overhead. Welcoming another huddled mass, yearning to breathe free.

Megumi takes a deep breath.

For the first time, he truly is free. There is no father controlling his every move – no fiancė dictating that whatever choice he makes is the wrong one. 

He can go anywhere. Do anything. See everything. 

Some may call Lady Liberty too stoic, but to Megumi she is true to her name. A gate he passes through as he takes his first steps into a new life. He doesn’t know where that path will lead.

It’s frightening, not knowing where to go – having so many options at his fingertips now that his choices are no longer laid out and predetermined for him. Being able to do anything means that he can do anything. The paralysis of infinity makes it painfully obvious that it’s a freedom he’s ill equipped to manage.

Making choices for oneself requires knowing oneself. And Megumi realizes that he must have been rotten company to himself these past nineteen years because he does not know the first thing about himself. 

He didn’t much care to know who he was before Titanic. Before Yuuji. 

He’s excited to find out.

People alongside him take the statue in as well. A moment of joy in and amidst the tragedy they have all survived. Closest to him is a family with three children – the oldest sibling explaining to the younger two that this means they’re arriving in New York.

Megumi wonders if it’s their first time here. If they’re coming home from their travels or were just beginning some. Where their parents met. What they do for a living. 

Maybe he’ll ask them. 

Yuuji would have loved this.

“Excuse me, sir.”

Megumi turns toward the man now standing at his side with a clipboard and pen in hand.

“I’ve been instructed to gather names of all the survivors for the records. What name shall I put down?”

“Itadori.”

It’s instant. As reflexive as the name Fushiguro – as if Itadori is the name he’s had for the past nineteen years. Only this time his name doesn’t exist alongside bile pooling in his cheeks. There’s levity. Pride. 

He smiles. 

“Itadori Megumi.”

The man nods, notes the name, and continues on with his task.

Megumi turns his new name over in his head. Smile widening just so each time he tells himself that he is Itadori Megumi . A little piece of Yuuji contained in each repetition.

If Yuuji cannot be alive and here alongside him — if there are no momentos of him left. Then Megumi will be the part of Yuuji that lives. 

He will live . 

Now. 

I have known other love. But you are the only love I have ever had. 

A thing tangible and kept and worn.  A familiar quilt thrown over my shoulders to keep the nightmares away. 

The future used to be a nightmare. Any dream I had, one of a trapped puppet who would do anything to make it all stop. 

I thought dreams were frivolous and temporary and imaginary – a thing that could no longer exist once I opened my eyes upon waking.

But dreams are just as real as the rest of life because they are made of life — small bits of memory and hope coming together to point me in a direction I did not know how to follow when awake. 

Really, I think I wanted to change. To be different. To be better. 

I have new dreams now. 

Dreams that I have lived. 

The first place I went after the ship docked was Coney Island. I spent the whole day watching tourists and riding roller coasters and thinking of you. I couldn’t bear to have someone else paint my portrait though.

I took up writing. I visited the Galapagos and the Amazon and the Redwoods. Wrote book after book on animal habitats and migrations. I kept a journal just for me with the names of every person I met on my travels. I have not forgotten any of them.

I still talk to Nobara when I can. No matter how busy the rest of our lives are, we share a pilgrimage to your hometown each March. We share a drink and say hello to your grandfather and tell stories.

She has so many stories of your life. I wish that I had more.

Your past is so limited, but our future is infinite.

Late at night when I close my eyes, this place is at long last the Ship of Dreams. At long last I have you again.

Hours and hours of day go by and I know that when I fall asleep you will be there waiting for me. Telling me not to hurry up to meet you. That I am worth the wait. That you will see me when I’m ready.

I see you in everything. The warmth of a summer breeze. Unabashed laughter shared with loved ones. Strangers becoming fast friends. The first flowers of spring.

I have seen so much. I have created a life that I am proud of. The kind we talked about living together.

I would say it’s more than I deserved, but you would tell me I only deserve the best.

Tonight I fulfill one final promise. I am an old man, warm in my bed, surrounded by people who care about me.

I am ready now.

It’s time.

As I prepare to come home to you, I am certain of it. 

Something has changed. 

Maybe it was me.