The scent of antiseptic was sharp enough to cut through steel. It lingered like a haze in the cramped healing room, saturating every surface, thick and pungent, almost as if it could knock a man out cold. The sterile white walls reflected the overhead light, amplifying the stillness in the air.
A youth lay on the bed, unmoving. His upper body was wrapped in white bandages, a particularly thick one running across his forehead, hiding an old wound that still refused to fully close. His breathing was slow, calm, and steady. Peaceful, almost too peaceful for someone who had faced death only days ago.
From the adjacent bathroom, a squeaky faucet ran briefly before a door creaked open. An old man stepped out, whistling a crude tune with a dog-eared adult magazine tucked snugly under his armpit. His white coat, wrinkled and stained, hung loosely from his thin frame. He dried his hands without much effort and shuffled toward a rickety stool near the bed.
Sitting down, he opened the magazine with a grin that was anything but professional. His eyes darted between pages like a man starved, occasionally chuckling or sighing dramatically at the photos. It would have been grotesque if it wasn't so pathetically routine.
A loud vroom echoed outside as a car screeched to a stop in front of the small building. The old man didn't flinch. He merely turned the page and whistled louder.
The door creaked open a few moments later. A breeze carried in the subtle scent of lilies as a woman stepped inside, arms laden with groceries. She wore a modest white skirt and a soft blue blouse that complimented her long, ocean-colored hair. Mei's expression softened the moment her eyes landed on the bed. Her composure faltered for just a second.
She walked to a cupboard mounted on the wall and began arranging the groceries, deliberately avoiding even a glance at the old man, who huffed.
"No greetings again, huh? Kids these days, no manners. Not even a simple 'good morning,'" he grumbled without looking up. "Disrespectful brats…"
With a simple flare of cursed energy, the temperature in the room dropped. The old man froze mid-page. A bead of sweat rolled down his wrinkled temple. He shut the magazine with a hateful glare and mumbled, "Tch… no need to get violent."
"Well?" Mei asked, her voice quiet but stern. Her gaze returned to the youth on the bed. "How is he?"
The old man sighed, leaning back on the stool as he scratched his beard.
"Vitals are stable. Brain activity, muscle function, all returned to normal," he said, folding his arms. "But as we feared, the cursed energy pathways are shredded beyond repair. I'm afraid he's… crippled. He'll never use Jujutsu again."
Silence filled the room. Mei's shoulders quivered slightly. Her breath caught in her throat, and her vision blurred. Tears threatened to spill, but she bit her lip and blinked them back. She exhaled, long and shaky, as her fingers clenched into fists.
Then came a hoarse whisper that cut through the quiet like a blade. "No wonder I can't feel my cursed energy…" The old man jerked up, startled, and Mei's eyes widened. They both turned to the bed in shock.
Sasuke was sitting up, his back pressed against the bed's headboard, scratching the back of his unruly black hair and yawning.
He blinked blearily at the two of them before his eyes landed on the old man. His lip curled in disgust.
"You again?" he muttered, and then turned to Mei with a small smile. "You were crying, weren't you?"
"Ungrateful little brat!" the old man snapped, his face turning red. "You wouldn't even be breathing without my help!"
Without looking, Mei reached into her bag and tossed a bundle of cash onto the floor. Then another. And another.
The old man's tirade came to an abrupt halt. His eyes sparkled greedily as he scrambled to collect the cash, using the bottom of his shirt to scoop it up like a makeshift sack. Mei's voice turned cold.
"Get out." The old man hesitated, then tucked the magazine into his shirt, nodded with a grumble, and waddled out without another word.
Silence returned. Sasuke chuckled softly and rubbed his temples. "Is it hot in here or is it just me?"
Mei ignored the joke. She walked to his side and sat down quietly beside him. Her eyes were steady now, but her heart still trembled.
"Are you alright?" she asked softly.
Sasuke paused, then gave her a small smirk. "You're asking about my condition, right?" He rested his chin in his hand and shrugged. "I told you, didn't I? I've got everything under control. I can't afford to stay crippled when I've got interdimensional freaks to fight."
He looked away, flexing his fingers as if trying to convince himself he still had his strength.
Mei leaned in, wrapping her arms around him gently. Sasuke chuckled and embraced her back.
"Now that I think about it," he murmured flirtatiously in her ear, "I'm not totally alright. But maybe after a round or two… I might recover faster."
His hand trailed teasingly down the curve of her back. Mei shivered, a blush rising to her cheeks. She pushed him away, not harshly, but with enough firmness to get the message across.
"When you're fully healed," she said with a small smile, "we'll do whatever you want."
Sasuke groaned playfully and threw his legs off the bed. He was shirtless, only wearing a pair of loose pants. He stretched, cracking his back.
"What the hell happened to that bastard Toji, anyway?" he asked as he wandered into the hallway, grabbing a towel and slinging it over his shoulders.
Mei followed him into the kitchen and pulled open a cabinet, retrieving a bottle of wine.
"He left a few days ago," she said while pouring a glass. "After he was fully healed."
Sasuke raised a brow. "Why?"
She shrugged, sipping the wine with slow deliberation. "He was upset the old man couldn't regenerate his arm. He left a letter for you, though."
She handed Sasuke a sealed envelope from a drawer. He took it cautiously, dread creeping into his chest. He broke the seal and began to read.
---
Oi, you mad bastard.
Sorry I left so suddenly. Had to clear my head. You understand. But this is about my kid. Don't think I told you this before, his name's Megumi. I sold him to the Zen'in clan when he was a baby. Couldn't take care of myself, let alone a damn kid.
They paid a lot. I figured it was the best shot he had. I was probably wrong. He probably hates my guts now. So I'm leaving him to you. Try to make him forget about me.
And I'm still pissed about losing my arm. If I ever see that six-eyed bastard again, I'm shooting him in the damn face.
---
Sasuke lowered the letter, his jaw tense.
"Toji… you son of a—" He clenched his fists. "He expects me to do a better job than him?"
"What did he say?" Mei asked, curious.
Sasuke handed her the letter, and her eyes scanned it quickly. She chuckled.
"Hah! Wow. Classic Toji. Leaves a teenager to raise his son. And I thought my dad was a piece of work."
She sat on the couch and crossed her legs, sipping more wine.
"But think about it," she said after a pause. "If the Zen'in clan paid that much for the kid, he's got real talent. You think they're just going to let you walk in and take him without a fight?"
Sasuke leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "I killed Asahi Zen'in. Crushed Fugaku. And made Naobito piss himself," he said coldly. "I don't need their permission."
He sighed again, deep and tired. "Still… why me?"
Mei stared into her glass, then set it down and walked over. She sat on his lap, straddling him, and cupped his face gently.
"Maybe," she whispered, "for the first time in a long time, he found someone he could actually trust." Her words hung in the air as she leaned in and kissed him deeply.
Sasuke wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close.
"When you trust someone with everything," she whispered against his lips, "you can give them anything."
They kissed again, hungrier, more desperate and then fell into the couch, lost in each other.
Soon, soft gasps and muffled moans filled the apartment, as the night closed in outside.
A/N:Two more chapters to end the arc. I'm exhausted.