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Megumi slowly takes Sukuna's hand and clasps it. While Sukuna is still staring at the part of himself that refused to do his bidding.
“It's okay.” Megumi says, retrieving the whisk and placing it in the sink. “I think you just tried to do too much at once.”
Sukuna is still frowning. Cursing the impracticality of his new body and lamenting the loss of the old one. Until Megumi draws little circles on those calloused palms and the tension in his body releases. As if Megumi had stolen it away.
Megumi smiles softly. “How about I do the batter and you cook them. You're better with the stove than me.” Sukuna turns to face those considering eyes.
“Okay.”
He watches with rapt attention as Megumi moves around the kitchen like a dancer. Lingering on Megumi's feet, his legs, the way he flicks a rubber spatula like a knife. When Sukuna takes over one set of eyes stay on the pancakes, the other on Megumi sitting at the table reading a murder mystery novel. Deft fingers turning the page every now and again.
The pancakes are fluffy inside, crispy outside and not too sweet. The kitchen filled with the smell of butter and blueberry. Sukuna breathes a sigh, brows furrowing slightly. He should have been able to do this himself-
Megumi takes his hands and squeezes, staring at him. “Stop that.”
Sukuna huffs a laugh. He is so different now. Nobody could touch him and live to tell about it, before. But Megumi was here. Defying that past existence with an unwavering gaze. If it were anyone else their cowardice would doom them.
Sukuna grins slowly, then squeezes back. If there was more to all this, perplexing or not, he'd take it.