Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It is dark, stifling and they are not alone.

Where are they?

It is cramped, and they feel another fight for space against them, like greedy children clawing for a parent’s affections. This is my soul, mine!

It– She– He– They– claw back, kicking and squirming to dislodge the weight from them. They will not allow themselves to be suffocated so easily. Fine, don’t share, but make room!

What are they?

Who are they?

They feel a sensation like breaching the surface and gasp for air, knowing that they have won this battle. The other sulks, not attempting to pull them back down, but the threat is still present.

I throw my head back and inhale deeply. Free, free, I’m free–!

Something approaches, and some instinct within me orders my limbs to swing out and for my hand to strike. The monster (curse, that was a curse, how is it–?) bursts apart violently and spatters a tainted purple liquid across the ground. It comes apart so easily at the seams, it is incredible that only one of Sukuna’s fingers could grant such a pathetic creature such power. Satisfied that the threat has been dealt with, I turn my head sky-ward, and once again find myself breathless. I have never seen so clear a night.

“How glorious…” I find myself saying in a voice that is not my own. I know not to question it (I know what this is, I want to appreciate the calm before the storm) and instead spin in a slow circle to truly take in the wonders of modern rural Japan. “Stars so different from what I used to know, yet so familiar.” I fight back the laugh that threatens to erupt, a maniacal and menacing thing that does not do this body justice. Itadori Yuuji. Only he would wear such garish yellow.

I can taste the spike of fear from behind me (like copper on my tongue, I am tempted to chase after the taste but find my restraint; I do not want to scare the boy even more) and turn to find Fushiguro Megumi bleeding across the roof, attempting to take a battle stance. I raise a brow despite myself. He is capable, yes, but injured and in no state to fight a Curse like myself. (Sukuna Sukuna Sukuna–)

“Do not attempt to stand, little one, you are in no condition to battle.” I tell him, my steps soft as I approach. I pull my cursed energy inwards (not mine, like a blanket shared between dear friends) so he may cease his needless shivering and let me closer. “Do not be discouraged. You are still young yet, and needn’t have to worry about having to face a Curse so far from your Grade. You possess a useful technique, if utilised correctly, and will go far in life with more training.” I place a hand on Fushiguro’s head and feel the warmth of a campfire enjoyed with friends wash through me and into the teenager, sealing away his wounds. I drop to one knee beside him and ignore his flinching to wipe the blood from his face. “It is rather irresponsible for your Elders to send out one child to retrieve a Special Grade Cursed Object,” I click my tongue before sitting alongside the boy. “Truly, the standards have fallen since my time.”

Fushiguro opens his mouth to speak, but is cut off by my hand gripping my face and janking my head to the side. Or, rather, Itadori’s hand.

“Give me my body back!”

I blink in surprise. It is incredibly strange to have a voice be pulled from your throat with words that are not your own. “Of course, child, worry not. I was merely healing your friend. You may take control once more.”

And with that I am pulled beneath the waves once more, hands dragging back into the depths.

Ryoumen Sukuna is alive once more. Bound to a vessel who doesn’t know even the simplest of things about Jujutsu Society, but that does not matter. This body will be his, in the end, and his vessel’s idiocy will no longer be an obstacle.

What will be an obstacle is the creature that has joined him in his Domain.

He can feel it before it even rises from the bloody waters of his inner world, bound to his soul as it is. He resists the temptation to prod at the thread tying them together. It is intricate work, he must admit, but does not want to and so ignores it. He instead turns his attention to his Domain.

It is not the same as when Sukuna last saw it. There are still bones, no longer limited to human and oxen, and an intricately sculpted temple, but there are now paper lanterns and little origami animals. Sukuna recalls seeing children place such things before his throne as though it were an altar in his past lives. An attempt to soothe ruffled feathers from the intruder? He nearly scoffs at the notion. Offerings would not appease him nor would they tame his rage once the creature arrived to face him.

There were plants he recognises and plants he didn’t spread around, hanging from the temple walls or strung across the ribs above him. Something in his mind rings out that they were dangerous, and he once again resists the temptation to pluck one of the apples from the little tree that had sprouted by his throne. Most of the plants bore fruit, and a smile twitches across Sukuna’s face as he realises they must all be poisonous. A reflection of the little intelloper that dared tie their essence to his own. How sweet. He walks to the water’s edge and watches the flowers drift along serenely. Not lotuses, but their lethal counterpart; water lilies.

Beneath the bloody lake, Sukuna watches as a form appears and begins their float to the surface. They emerge from the waters gasping and clawing at their throat, and Sukuna takes in their form while they are distracted.

Wet hair hangs in front of their face, pale skin stained red. If you ignore the scars and blemishes, they had a complexion fit for royalty. They are wearing garments the likes of which he has never seen before. Loose, tied together with rope rather than sashes, with elegant embroidery. A golden hoop wraps around their neck like a collar, or perhaps a noose. Sukuna has met merchants and travellers from all over the continent, but has never come across clothes like these. From Europe, he surmises, or perhaps even further west. They are too pale to be from elsewhere.

A second set of arms emerge from underneath their robes to pry their hair from their face, and Sukuna stills as two pairs of blood red eyes stare into his own.

Their voice is reverent as they whisper,

“Sukuna.”

Chapter Text

All four of my newly acquired eyes widen once I realise who I am facing. Ryoumen Sukuna, the King of Curses, scourge of humanity, antagonist of Jujutsu Kaisen, in all of his Heian Era glory. He looks nothing like Itadori, both sets of arms and mouths present, a much broader stature and stronger features.

My face heats with the realisation that I said his name out loud when he bares his teeth in a smile. “Ah, so you know who I am. Pray tell, if you are aware of whose presence you are in–”

I drop into a dogeza before he can even finish speaking, body trembling. My nose is nearly touching the blood beneath me, and all four of my arms are spread out before me, once again submerged. But I do not protest. I remember acutely what this man did to those who did not treat him with adequate respect in the manga and anime. We seem to be stuck sharing a body for the foreseeable future; it will do me no good to antagonise him.

There is an amused laugh above me, and the water ripples as Sukuna steps forward. “That’s more like it. Now, worm, tell me how you are here, and why exactly I should let you live.”

I don’t straighten from where I am prostrated before him. My mouth tastes like iron when I speak. “My utmost apologies, Lord Sukuna, it was not my intention to intrude on your Domain. I am typically incapable of such feats.”

“Typically?” His tone is full of false lightness.

The lie comes to me easily. “Kenjaku,” I say, and feel the most powerful sorcerer in the world’s killing intent wash over me. My knees buckle beneath me, but I cannot allow myself to falter. I have to sell this. “I sought him out some years ago, with the intent of informing him that his experiments would go awry. I told him that he would face ruin, and be confined to a host to be a puppet for all eternity. He– he did not appreciate my presumptiveness, and bound me to one of your fingers with the claim that if I knew so much about his projects, I ought to prevent such events from happening.”

Sukuna’s voice rings out in a wordless snarl before he speaks once more. “Of course. Only he has the knowledge and audacity to perform such a feat.” A pause, then:

“Look at me.”

I raise my head and see that Sukuna is staring down at me with a strange look in his eyes. “You are blessed with foresight?” I cringe, and bite my lip. “Very limited, Sukuna-sama. I merely know the predestined pattern of events of a select group of people. You are included in that group, but my knowledge is patchy at best and ends with your defeat. If things do not play out in the way I am familiar with, I will be of no assistance.” His eyes narrow and I let my head drop and tremble silently. Hook and line. Now I just have to hope he takes the bait. The adrenaline makes me light headed and I try my best not to sway as Sukuna contemplates my words.

He kneels down in front of me, and forces my head up once more with a finger. He is grinning now, a look so feral that it sends more shivers down my smile than his killing intent did. “It seems we are at an impasse here. We both have something the other wants. You also wish to regain your body, correct?” I nod hesitantly. “Excellent. In return for your… assistance in the days coming, I will grant you the privilege of remaining in my Domain. What do you wish to become of the traitorous Kenjaku?”

The words spill from my mouth before I can think them.

“I want to tear him apart with my teeth.”

Sukuna smiles indulgently and pats me on the head. “Good. Your time for vengeance will come, intruder. I swear it.”

Sinker.

Chains rattle around us, and so mote it be.

This is all very strange for Itadori Yuuji, and he feels as though he is going to start spiralling any second now.

His grandfather died. Two of his classmates were attacked and severely injured by a monster. He ate a finger and is now apparently possessed. Now he is going to be executed once he eats the rest of them.

All of that happened last night, and Yuuji doesn’t know how he should be feeling. He couldn’t even bring out Sukuna at his new teacher’s request, even though he could hear voices that weren’t his own arguing. He didn’t like the look that Gojo-sensei and Fushiguro shared when he told them that. Not the arguing part, he doesn’t want to seem crazy.

He leaned back in his seat with a forlorn sigh. Gojo-sensei was sitting up front with a man he doesn’t remember the name of who is their driver. It was going to be a few hours until they made it to Tokyo, apparently. Yuuji would likely never see Sendai again, and so had stared out the window to commit it all to memory.

Now though, driving down unfamiliar roads through unfamiliar towns? Yuuji just felt tired.

His eyes drooped, and he let sleep consume him.

Yuuji opened his eyes and saw red for miles.

He struggled to his feet, and nearly fell right back onto his butt with a squeak when he realised what the red was. Blood. He had been lying in blood! “Ew ew ew ew ew!” he whined quietly, shaking himself like a wet dog before noticing that he wasn’t even wet. Was he dreaming?

A low snort shook him from his musings, and Yuuji whipped around. Then he gaped at the sight before him.

It looked like the shrine from back home, the one Grandpa used to take him to when he was a kid. It emerged from the blood and appeared to be built from bone. Plants twisted around the columns and sprouted in between the bones that formed a throne at the centre of it all. His attention was grabbed by the little paper crafts (he used to make those with Grandpa, why would there be some here?) before another round of snickering brought him back to the present. There were people here too.

One was perched on the throne, lounging while glaring down at him. His hair was the same colour as Yuuji’s. He was wearing a fancy kimono, and looked like royalty. Yuuji gulped.

The other person was the one that was laughing. She was sitting on the steps to the shrine, steaming cup set beside her. She was wearing a dark green robe of sorts. It didn’t look like anything Yuuji had seen in history class. Both of them had four arms and four eyes.

“Uh… I thought I was supposed to only have one person inside me?” Yuuji blurted out. The lady’s snickering devolved into outright giggles at that, and the man on the throne threw them an exasperated look before stepping down. “You are. But it seems like the universe has other plans. That one–” the man pointed at the lady, who just stuck her tongue out at him, “–is not supposed to be here. That is outside any of our control.” “Oh.” Yuuji blinked. “You’re Sukuna then?”

“The one and only!” The lady called over, seeming to have recovered from whatever had made her laugh so much. The man– Sukuna, apparently, just sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I preferred it when you were meek and respectful.” He shot back. “But if you’re Sukuna,” Yuuji interrupted, definitely not wanting to have to listen to another one of their arguments (especially now that he could understand what was being said), “then whose she?”

“She’s the cat’s mother. Besides, I’m not a she,” the lady – not a lady? – snapped, eyes suddenly narrowed. “I’m the poor soul who got dragged into this whole mess by your creator.”

Yuuji blinked. “My creator?” Sukuna sighed, he seemed to do that a lot, and gestured for him to follow. “There is a lot of explaining to do, brat. First, you should know what a vessel is. We are currently incorporeal; we have no bodies. Pieces of my soul are bound to my fingers. When you consume one, you gain a piece of my soul. Typically when this happens, the intruding soul overcomes the original and takes over the body. That is a host.” How’s a host different to a vessel? Yuuji thought, wrinkling his nose in thought as he sat with Sukuna on the steps. The person (?), seeing his confusion, let their frown soften into a smile. “Think of the host like a parasite, and the vessel as something more symbiotic.” Oh! A lightbulb went off in Yuuji’s brain. “I get it! I’m a vessel because I’m the one in control!” “Exactly,” Sukuna nodded, looking both surprised and pleased. “We are currently in my Domain. It is a manifestation of my soul within your body. As my soul becomes more intact, I will become more powerful.” “What about you?” Yuuji asked, turning to the person who was now sipping on their tea. “And what is your name?” he quickly tacked on, appalled that he hadn’t asked sooner. His grandfather would be ashamed. The person just shrugged, their eyes glazing over and voice gaining a touch of melancholy. “I don’t remember,” they admitted. “The Curse that tied me to Sukuna-sama’s soul didn’t have nearly as much tact as they did when they split his soul into twenty pieces. I have retained my personhood, but many of my memories from before are missing.” “I’m so sorry,” Yuuji whispered, but his concern was waved away. “It is hardly an issue, little one. Now, because this is Sukuna-sama’s Domain and soul, and I was just tacked on, I only have so much influence in how the place looks. The plants and origami are all mine,” they explained, preening at Sukuna’s annoyance. Did he not like the additions? Or was he more annoyed at the violation of privacy?

“Because of the slap-dash job done in keeping my soul intact–” ‘Slap-dash’? Was that an English word? Were they European? They didn’t sound it. “–I don’t have access to many of my Cursed Techniques.” They continued, tapping a pattern on their cup. “I can use Sukuna-sama’s, but I don’t have nearly as much finesse or power. As his soul is repaired, I may gain access to more of his as his power grows, or I may not. Who knows, it might even work in my favour and heal my own soul.” As they raised the cup to their mouth, Yuuji finally noticed the scars and tattoos.

He had seen the marks on his own face in the mirror, which Gojo-sensei said came from being Sukuna’s vessel, but hadn’t really believed it until seeing Sukuna himself. The person (Yuuji really needed to come up with something better to call them than that) bore the same tattoos as Sukuna, the black standing out starkly against their much paler skin. But it was the gold that caught Yuuji’s eye. Their arms were covered in them, kintsugi-like scars, that glinted in the light like real gold when their sleeves slipped down. He couldn’t see much else of their skin, not even their face (their eyes were unmissable, glowing red with that same restrained fury as Sukuna), but he’d bet his DVD collection of Human Earthworm that they were covered in them. Was that inappropriate to think about, especially with someone he now shared a body with?

“Gojo-sensei said that I’m going to be executed once I eat all of your fingers,” Yuuji told Sukuna, who only scoffed. “Do you have any plans to, I dunno, not let that happen?”

Kintsugi (was it rude to call them that?) cooed. “Aw, are you that worried about us?” They reached forwards and ruffled Yuuji’s hair, ignoring his squawking protests. “Don’t worry, little one. We intend on making it out of this alive, and you’re the key.”

Yuuji blanched. “How!? I don’t know how to do any of this stuff!” He exclaimed, gesturing wildly to the Domain around them.

“That’s where your creator comes in,” Sukuna leaned forward with a bloodthirsty grin, and Yuuji suddenly believed that this man was the cannibal of legend.

“Let us tell you, Itadori Yuuji, the story of your creation and the curse known as Kenjaku.”

Chapter Text

I settled myself at the foot of the shrine as my vessel and his new friends were carted off to their supposed deaths.

Kugisaki had fit right in with Fushiguro and Itadori’s dynamics, and it brought a smile to my face watching them bicker like the children many forgot they were. It was sweet, getting to see the in between moments, but it also gave me time to come up with a plan.

Lying thus far had been easy. Itadori was polite enough to not ask prying questions, and Sukuna was yet to care about my life as a human. But as the story progressed, I would need something solid. A foundation for my lies to come. They both believed I had known Kenjaku. I could probably bullshit my way around him not knowing me, but what about the rest? Did I even have my own Cursed Techniques, or was I just going to be stuck tethered to Sukuna forever?

A hand came down in a fist atop my skull and I yelped, nearly falling off the step. “I can hear you thinking, maggot, and it is distracting.” Sukuna reprimanded.

I huffed out a laugh. “Distracting you from what, this oh-so riveting conversation about shlock movies?” Even when I wasn’t paying attention to the outside world, I could hear everything Yuuji could, and I assumed Sukuna could too judging by the constipated expression he had worn the past few days. We could block him out, but it was boring in here.

“You are entrenched in thought, moreso than the days before.”

“Well, you aren’t wrong about that. Surely by now you have picked up on the energy of another of your fingers?” At Sukuna’s permissive nod, I continued, reassured in my ability to not piss off the King of Curses that much. “The Special Grade Cursed Womb the children are set to face is another Finger Bearer, and its Innate Domain blankets the building. I am debating whether or not it would be wise to ask Yuuji to let me take control to… experiment, for lack of a better word.”

“You wish to test out my Cursed Techniques?”

“Only if you’ll allow it, Sukuna-sama.”

The man went silent, and I was left silently vibrating in anxiety. It was presumptuous to hope that he would let me take control when he was yet to, but he seemed to like being told my honest thoughts and ideas. “If you prove to be boring or weak, I’m taking over,” Sukuna declared, which was as good as I was going to get.

“You are ever merciful, oh Disgraced One.”

I grinned as his secondary mouth huffed out what sounded suspiciously like a laugh. Yeah, I think I’m going to be fine.

Fushiguro and Yuuji’s argument is cut short when a voice rings out; “You need to evacuate the building.”

All three of them frantically look around for the source of the noise, until Yuuji feels something strange on his face and looks down. There, on his cheek just below his eye, is a mouth. A mouth with a familiar voice. “Sukuna!” Yuuji exclaimed, triggering startled cries from his companions. It’s too soft a tone to truly be Sukuna, Yuuji knew, but he eagerly agreed to the charade once they had both caught him up on what was happening. “Tell the Fujiwara to call back his shikigami before it is killed, and get the two of them to the exit. I wish to face the Curse who bares my finger myself.”

“Ewwww,” Kugisaki groaned, backing away from Yuuji. “ That’s what Sukuna looks like? So gross.” Yuuji fought back a snigger as both of his body’s freeloaders made indignant sounds at that before Fushiguro chimed in.

“Why should we listen to you?” He barked out, eyes narrowed. Yuuji tilted his head so the side with the mouth could face him – it was only polite. “I healed you, little one, did I not?” Kintsugi asked, sickeningly sweet. “Consider letting me battle this Curse a debt repaid.” Fushiguro bit his lip, before sighing roughly. “Fine! But if you get Itadori killed–” “You’ll kill me yourself,” the Curse teased, then went silent. Yuuji felt the mouth close up and become smooth skin once more.

“Those lines under your eyes were mouths this whole time, Potato Head!?” Kugisaki yelled, shattering the silence. Yuuji squawked and waved his arms around frantically. “I didn’t know, they’ve never done that before!” Which was true; beyond that time during the drive to Tokyo, neither of them have spoken to him out-right. He could hear them talk to each other, but it was muffled and kinda like background noise. Kinda soothing too.

“It doesn’t matter, Itadori–” Fushiguro called, and Yuuji perked up. Like a puppy, Sukuna snickered, but Yuuji valiantly ignored the embodiment of all evil likening him to a dog to listen to his friend. “Are you sure you can control Sukuna if he gets loose?” “Of course!” Yuuji immediately replied, a little upset that Fushiguro is doubting him until the boy reluctantly nods. “Alright, Kugisaki and I will give you the signal once we’re out of the building, then you can let Sukuna engage. No unnecessary heroics.”

“If you get hurt you’re my pack mule for life!” Kugisaki yelled back at him as they took off sprinting, the white dog forming from the shadows and leading the way.

Yuuji smiled – he had such great friends – before turning on his heel and running down the opposite hallway, intent on finding the Special Grade and being able to bring that woman something to console her.

Sukuna’s grin widens as his vessel joins him in his Domain, arriving with a splash.

The brat sprints over to him, and Sukuna is struck with the realisation that someone that isn’t Uraume is happy to see him . “Has it started yet?” he yells, skidding to a halt at the foot of his throne, scattering bones into the water. Sukuna beckons the boy forwards, amused by how such a cowardly boy who preaches kindness and compassion can anticipate violence so. “You are just in time, brat.”

He sees through the eyes of the being that Itadori has taken to calling Kintsugi, and his grin broadens even further.

They are smiling as they weave around, dodging blows with ease. Sukuna had them pegged as a weakling, pallid and slender, with only an interesting mind that kept him from dying both from boredom and severing the connection between their souls.

But seeing them here, like this?

It might not be so bad.

They move like a dancer, not a hint of their prior gracelessness present, and throw their head to the sky as they laugh. “The joy of battle!” They declare, finally deciding to exchange blows with the newborn. “I can’t believe I have never allowed myself to feel like this before!” Sukuna wrinkles his nose as the Curse is harmed so easily with a mere kick – the modern sorcerers think he and this thing are on the same level? Don’t make him laugh – but his smile returns as the intruder launches themselves after the Cursed Womb, giggling all the way. He can sense the feral bloodlust, can almost taste it, and knows in that moment that he is not the only one to have been affected by the soul merge.

His vessel cheers, punching the air. Sukuna doesn’t know how he can see the battle until he realises that the brat’s eyes are closed. He is using their eyes as well, Sukuna notes. He had thought the boy pathetic and unimaginative, but if he continued on like this…

“Fuck it up!” Itadori yells, unaware that they cannot hear him in their current state. Blood is rushing in their ears, yet their mind is clear. Sukuna is intimately familiar with the adrenaline rushing through their veins. He begins to laugh himself as they start using his Cursed Techniques. Not on the Womb, no, but on the Domain itself. With a declaration of “spiderweb” , the world around them shatters and the two opponents fall through the floor. They land in the real world and immediately tackle the Finger Bearer to the ground with a “cleave”, slicing each limb off cleanly. The brat whoops in triumph beside him and they lean forward as one, eager to see what they would come up with next.

They drop into a crouch beside the still squirming Curse, face stretching unnaturally from their grin. “I’ve always wondered, as soon as I knew about you, why you have similar anatomy to humans.” They say conversationally, readying their hands in a familiar sign. “Given that you don’t need a digestive system, and all.”

Dismantle.

The Curse shrieks as it is split open, but not in half like Sukuna had expected. Instead, they reach their hands into the creature to examine their organs. They poke at the oesophagus and declare; “I have no idea why you even have all of this. At first I assumed it was because you are a Finger Bearer, but the Curse I faced when I awoke didn’t resemble a human in the slightest! Further testing is required.”

Dismantle.

“You have human skeletal structure, but no marrow. No wonder you’re so fragile, you’ve hollow bones!”

Cleave.

“Oh, feic anseo! Nerve endings and blood vessels! Does that mean you can feel pain?

Sukuna’s heart cannot beat. He has no body and therefore has no need for such trivial things as breathing or blood flow.

But as they use his Reverse Cursed Technique to heal the Cursed Womb, only to peel its skin off to poke at its musculature, Sukuna thinks he might feel it pulsing in his chest for the first time in centuries. He has never considered using his techniques in such manners, and his appreciation for their ingenuity won out against his indignation of someone else using them.

There is a gag next to him, and he turns to look at the brat. He is pale, and shaking. “They’re torturing it.”

Sukuna sighs, and turns away from the battle in annoyance. “We are Curses . Stop looking for reason and accept reality. It is in our nature.” “But you were human once-!” “Once,” he scoffs. “I have shed that skin long ago. Negativity is needed for enlightenment, brat, and I became the King of Curses. The power is impure, and to excel you must let yourself bathe in it. Don’t accept your humanity, push it away.”
He turns his attention away and back to the dissection. They have skinned the Cursed Womb, and are now unravelling its muscles. He doesn’t understand the terms anymore, but is eager to learn. They work with a steady hand he hasn’t seen in anyone but Uraume. They will get along, he thinks as they get back to their feet, finger in hand. “I’ve had my fun,” they declare, putting the finger in their pocket.

They point two fingers at the Cursed Womb and swing upwards.

“Rend.”

Sukuna and Itadori can only watch on in awe as the Curse’s very being is torn in two. They snatch it out of the air as the body melts away, and sallows its soul wholly.

The Domain around them shivers, changes once again, then settles. More flowers sprout from the bloodied waters, and Yuuji melts back into the waters.

Sukuna rests his chin in his hand as the intruder steps from the bloodied lake, teeth bared in greeting.

“How was your first foray into battle, maggot?”

Chapter Text

Yuuji still felt hollowed out as he made dinner that night. Once Fushiguro and Kugisaki realised that he could cook, he’d been put on food duty indefinitely. Normally he wouldn’t mind, but after what he’d seen…

His body was cold from the aftershocks of adrenaline, and he felt as though there was still purple blood under his nails.

A mouth opens on the right side of his face, but Yuuji valiantly ignores the strange pull and stretch of his skin to keep his focus on the tempura. “I apologise for what happened earlier, little one.” Kintsugi murmured, their voice barely loud enough to be heard over the oil bubbling. “I forget that not everyone has as easy a time around corpses as I.”

Yuuji exhaled through his nose as he poured the flour and water into the bowl, cracking open the bottle of carbonated water with one hand while he turned down the heat on the stove with the other. “I don’t want to talk about corpses while I cook,” he said, and Kintsugi quieted down. “Sorry.” He was just measuring out the potato starch onto a plate when he felt the other side of his face gain the feeling of plastic or rubber being stretched. “What are you cooking, brat?” Sukuna asked. Yuuji hummed out a surprised noise, before thinking better of it. Gojo-sensei had said Sukuna was a cannibal, and what little stories he himself had heard while in school spoke of the King of Curses as a glutton. It shouldn’t be all that shocking that he was interested in food. Did Sukuna cook?

“I’m making tempura batter right now,” he explained, setting down the measuring cup and crouching to reach into the shopping bag still on the floor. It had been difficult convincing Gojo-sensei to buy him the vodka, but after much insisting that this was the way his grandfather made it and that none of them would get drunk, he promised, the man relented. “I’m going to fry chicken, kabocha and eggplant. I made a dipping sauce earlier.” “You didn’t add egg.” Sukuna remarked suspiciously. “I like it crunchy,” Yuuji shrugged. He steadied his hand over the bowl as he poured the vodka. He knew he was probably supposed to measure it out, but Grandpa had always taught him to trust his instincts and stop when he felt there was enough.

“I’ve never had tempura before,” Kintsugi mused. “Is it good?” “You haven’t!?” Yuuji exclaimed, nearly spilling vodka across the counter. How could someone go their whole life with having tempura in this day and age? Kintsugi laughed, and Yuuji could feel the rumbling in his own chest. “It is not a common food where I’m from, little one. It does smell pretty good, though.”

Yuuji’s spine straightened as he capped the bottle, getting ready to begin mixing the batter. “That just means you’ll have to try some today!” He insisted, much to his body’s other occupants’ amusement. “You have high standards to meet.” Sukuna informed him, while Kintsugi just laughed again. They were a giggly sort of person, apparently. “Not on my end, at least. I couldn’t cook to save my life! I wasn’t too bad at baking though,” they added, and Yuuji lit up. “Oh! That means you can give me ideas for dessert!”

“I’d be happy to, kid.”

The rest of dinner preparation goes off without a hitch, which leads to Yuuji and his freeloaders rummaging through the cupboards for ingredients as the fried foods cool on the cooling rack. Well, just Yuuji; Sukuna and Kintsugi are debating the pros and cons of savoury desserts. Personally, he doesn’t have a preference, but it is funny to listen to them argue so seriously about it.

“Not everyone wishes to have their teeth rot in their mouth.”

“I get that, but at what point does it stop being a dessert?”

“Do not get philosophical about food.”

“You of all people should be philosophical about food!”

The argument is cut short when a voice asks; “What the fuck.”

Yuuji only knows one person who can dead-pan like that.

He slowly turned around and is faced with Fushiguro Megumi, in all his resting bitch face glory. “Um. It’s not what it looks like?”

“Oh really? Cause it looks to me like there are TWO people possessing you, Itadori!” Kugisaki yelled, marching right up to him from the doorway behind Fushiguro to grab him by the collar and shake him relentlessly. Both Curses laughed uproariously, and Kugisaki’s angry tirade grinds to a halt at the sound.

“I think we’ll leave this to you, kid.” Kintsugi snickered, mouth smoothing back into skin. “Don’t leave the food out for too long, brat,” Sukuna added before joining the former in his mind.

The kitchen was so silent you could hear a pin drop.

Then:

“WHY IN THE UNHOLY FUCK ARE THERE TWO CURSED SPIRITS LIVING IN YOUR BODY ITADORI YUUJI!?”

Chapter Text

I laid on my back in the bloody lake of Sukuna’s Domain. It was surprisingly peaceful if I closed my eyes to ignore the ribcage that was the ceiling. I had expected the red water to cling like blood, even if I knew it wouldn’t stain. Yet it remained the correct viscosity. How strange.

Heh. I had only been here for a few days and that was what I called strange? You’d expect a mental breakdown or two at this stage.

Not that I hadn’t been on the verge of one when I realised who I was sharing a soul with.

Ryoumen Sukuna was an enigma.

To fans, to haters, to the other characters in his world, perhaps even to his own creator. A natural disaster, a walking calamity, who lived by his own creed and only valued strength. Entertained by those who attempted to reach him, disgusted by those who attempted to bring him to their level. Cannibal, warrior, poet, sorcerer, scholar, king, Curse. God given flesh.

The Divine Equalizer, Destroyer and Devourer. Lived as a human, died as a god, reborn as a Cursed Spirit. He rejected his humanity and retains only the smallest of compassion, if you can even call his last respectful words to Jogo compassionate. He gives advice by his own ideals, and those ideals will ultimately fail him.

Sukuna has always captivated me. I’d never seen another character like him done so well. Gojo Satoru is one thing, reshaping the system yet remaining a tool, but Sukuna abandoned that cycle. The constant rebirth and renewal of Curses and the abuse of Jujutsu society. He just… rises above it all.

I couldn’t help but admire that when I was alive. I was jealous, almost, of how easily he allowed himself indulgence because in his eyes it wasn’t an allowance or indulgence; it was simply what he was owed as the Strongest. The Pinnacle of Sorcery itself.

But it also hurt to look at him and know that he would die with regrets, never taking Itadori’s hand and never quite being understood. He claims to not need it, that he lives only for himself and his whims and that once you try to surpass others you stop improving, but he chooses to walk alongside Uraume at the end of it all with the comment that maybe things will be different next time.

Those who are weak deserve to be so because they do not attempt to improve their circumstance, only whine or accept their fate. Or their job as a cog. That is why he was intrigued by Maki, that is why he loathes Yuuji, that is why he is keeping me alive. He hates not the weak, but those who fail to strive for success. Being the strongest allows him to live life to the fullest, in ways those around him cannot.

At least, that is what I think. It would be rude to shove my perception of his ideals and personhood on him without asking for his own view of things.

It also wouldn’t do to convince him to think my way. Everyone who follows similar ideals to Sukuna gets rewarded in this world, Fushiguro’s Domain Expansion being the most prominent. He understands the fundamentals of what it means to be a Jujutsu Sorcerer.

But not a human.

I let my eyes drift closed, and exhaled deeply.

I myself am not human anymore either. The two of us skirt that divide, the one that Kenjaku, Choso and Mahito seem so eager to distort. But the difference between us is that I accepted my humanity as a part of me, and kept moving forwards regardless. Embracing my new existence as a Curse but not forgetting my roots. Sukuna refuses to recognise it as still a part of him, seeing it only as a weakness to be cut away and discarded.

That is why he will die. Be it by my hand or Itadori’s, he will die if he continues down this path.

I probably will also, given that our souls are bound, likely for eternity if we can’t figure out how we ended up like this.

I still vividly remember my first death.

I quickly sat up.

It definitely wasn’t a good idea to reminisce on such things while lying in a body of water.

Chapter Text

Yuuji hummed as he got dressed, eager for another day of training even if it left him bruised. Maki-senpai’s regime was no joke, but his reaction time was already improving. He couldn’t quite dodge her, but Panda-senpai (how cool was that, one of his senpais was a panda!!) said that not even Okkutsu-senpai can dodge her.

He felt the mouths form on either side of his face and smiled to himself. Sukuna and Kintsugi were in a similar good mood now that he was properly training. “What is wrong with your body, brat?” Sukuna questioned. Yuuji blinked. “Gods above, you can’t just ask people that, Sukuna-sama!” Kintsugi snapped, voice suddenly heated. “What do you mean?” Yuuji asked, looking down at himself then checking the mirror. Looked the same as usual. He’d even reapplied his tape last night after his shower.

“It is wrong,” Sukuna protested. “It is not the same as your manifestation in my Domain.” Kintsugi groaned, an exasperated noise like they’ve explained this before. “Neither is mine, and I’d bet Uraume is in a similar boat!”

Yuuji didn’t get a chance to ask who Uraume was before Sukuna was making an understanding noise. “So you’re like us, brat.” “I’m sorry, what is even happening?” Yuuji asked, head getting caught in his t-shirt. He struggled for a few moments before his head popped out and he could straighten it up.

“Sukuna-sama’s finally realised that you are binding,” Kintsugi sighed, and Yuuji paused buttoning his uniform jacket. “Wait, how do you know what that is?”

Kintsugi just laughed, that familiar low rumble in his chest. Their laugh was different from their giggles. Their giggles were higher pitched, and sounded like they escaped against their will. But their laugh came from the chest, the same way Yuuji tried to speak. “How old do you think I am, kid? Genuinely.”

Uhhhhhh… “I dunno, you’re wearing clothes I’ve never seen before.” “Traditional clothing in my culture. It hasn’t been worn for centuries. But I’m pretty sure I’m the same age as your teacher. He’s nearly thirty, yes?” “Wait, you died recently!?” Yuuji yelled as he stumbled through putting on his shoes. Maybe a bit too loud, considering Megumi was in the next room, but who could blame him? “Mhm. I was still a student myself.” “You’re only a newborn. It is no wonder you have such a poor hold on your Cursed Energy.” Kintsugi stuck out their tongue at that and jeez, that felt so gross, maybe Nobara had a point about this. “I wasn’t a sorcerer when I was alive, give me a break!” “We’re getting off track! How do you know what binding is, Kintsugi-sama?”

They were silent for a long while, long enough for Yuuji to tie both of his shoes. Did I say something wrong? He wondered. Then Kintsugi spoke up. “Are you actually this dense.” It wasn’t a question. Yuuji squawked as Sukuna snickered. “Wha– Hey! That is uncalled for!” “What part of ‘you are like us’ is confusing you?” Sukuna mocked. “You modern folk likely have some new word for it, but it was common in my time. I myself shaped my body to its peak form, while Uraume cared not for such fickle things as the limits of the body.”

“WAIT WAIT WAIT–” He shrieked as the two of them snickered and melted away. “YOU’RE BOTH TRANS!?”

Yuuji couldn’t help the pout as he walked to the training grounds. He’d tried to get both of the freeloaders to spill, but no dice. He couldn’t believe that both of the people possessing his body were like him. Like, what were the odds?

Did Sukuna give himself the four arms and eyes too, or are those because he is a Curse? Yuuji contemplated, tugging off his uniform jacket as he neared the training grounds. He’d get too warm fighting in it. He learnt that the hard way last week. No, that can’t be right, Kintsugi has them too. It’s definitely a Sukuna-Curse-thing. But why hasn’t Kintsugi changed their form, if they used to bind in their past life? Is it because they’re newborn? Do they just… not know how? Are they still picturing themself how they used to look, like a subconscious thing, or is it a true reflection of how they looked before, like how Sukuna actually changed his body? This is really confusing.

His thought process was stalled when the hilt of Maki’s sword knocked him upside the head. He yelped and spun around to face the scowling girl. “Why does everyone hit me on the head? It’s almost like you all want me to be stupider than I already am!”

Maki just rolled her eyes. “Don’t be a crybaby, kouhai. Go do your warm-ups, then we can get started.”

Yuuji offered her a salute, only half joking.

“Yes Maki-senpai!”

Chapter Text

“The other school is visiting a month from now?” I asked, raising my head from where I was struggling to fold a straight line. Why was there origami in the Domain if I couldn’t even do origami for the life of me?

“An opportunity to scout out the competition,” Sukuna observed. “Not much competition. Only one of the Kyoto students deserves recognition, maybe a second.” I scoffed, poking my tongue out in concentration as I pressed the four corners into the centre. I spun the square then began folding the corners in on itself again. “Are they a threat?” Yuuji asked, leaning over my shoulder to watch me work. “Hm. The Grade 1 is a third year, but after an initial bout of sparring you’ll find common ground. He’ll even come to consider you a brother. The other…” I paused my explanation to rotate the square and fold in the corners for a third time.

Sukuna caught on to my line of thought. “The other Zen’in twin.” “Maki-senpai has a twin?” Yuuji exclaimed, looking up from where I had flipped the paper over and begun to fold the corners into the centre but on the opposite side. “Her name is Mai. Twins are bad luck, and when Maki did not have any Cursed Energy, they did not train her. Her sister, while being taught in the ways of jujutsu, was mistreated in a different manner. The current head of the Zen’in Clan is a misogynistic piece of shit. Despite his adoration of the previous Heavenly Restriction user, he does not even consider your senpai as a contender.”

“Heavenly Restriction?” Sukuna whispered, all four eyes going wide. “Does she achieve it?” “She does,” I said with a smile. I crinkled each corner then folded the flap inside out. I bent down the little corners within each fold and flipped it over as I continued. “And she will achieve her goal of destroying the clan, but loses her sister in the process.” Yuuji leaned away from my shoulder to cover his mouth with his hand. “That’s awful.” “She won’t reach her truest potential without her sister’s death,” I admitted. “I doubt she really wants to, beyond fulfilling her sister’s dying wish and her life-long goal.”

I unfolded the bottom flaps of the paper and bent them upwards. It was a bit wobbly looking, with wonky corners, but it was my first success. “They don’t get along, and that is why she is a threat. To you, specifically. You can’t dodge bullets like Maki can.” “Maki-senpai can dodge bullets!?” Yuuji shrieked, shocked out of his horror. “Yep. And they are all fired by her sister.” In my mind, that wasn’t too shocking. Siblings will sibling, after all. But both men gave me a strange look at my nonchalance. “What? Siblings do that all the time. I’m pretty sure I had one before, and that we regularly tried to kill each other.” There’s a memory in the back of my mind, of pushing someone shorter than me on a swing, but I ignored it for now. It wasn’t time for a crisis over my own memories of my life before melting away. Yuuji needed to be prepared for what’s to come.

“The lesser of a set of twins and a measly Grade 1,” Sukuna mused, drumming a pattern on his thigh. He leaned back against one of the shrine’s columns, crossing his upper pair of arms. “Is that all Kyoto has to offer?” “Eh.” I made an uncertain gesture with my hand. “There are other students, but they aren’t worth mentioning beyond the fact that one of them is working with Kenjaku and another makes a Binding Vow to never swing a katana again. In my opinion, she would be better off with a metal bat than a sword. Miwa has a mean swing.” “You… just weren’t going to mention that one of them is working with Kenjaku?” Sukuna sighed, exasperated. “Nah. Not important right now.”

“How is that not important?” Yuuji questioned.

“Well, if I told you too much, you’d try to take matters into your own hands, and you’re hardly the person to go to when things need to be handled with finesse. That’s also why I won’t tell you who it is.”

Yuuji pouted. “I get it, but I don’t like it.”

“You’re not supposed to.” I pressed the origami into his hand. “Now, you have training to get to. Don’t be late.” “Wha–?” Sukuna poked Yuuji on the forehead and tipped him back into the lake. He dissolved beneath the red waters. “That’s always weird to watch,” I mused, cocking my head to the side. Sukuna hummed in agreement, nonchalantly leaning towards me and wrapping a lower arm around me. I raised an eyebrow with a confused smile. What was he doing?

“You were still a student before your death and becoming a Cursed Spirit, you said. What was it you were studying?” “Oh. Um. I was a biology student, and assisted lecturers in dissections for beginner classes. That’s what you are asking, isn’t it? About what I did to the Cursed Womb.” Sukuna hummed; a low, rumbling noise that shook my bones. “You showed impeccable control. I haven’t seen such finesse and understanding of the body since Kenjaku himself.” I flushed, turning my head away. “Nothing too difficult. I’ve done more complicated vivisections.” “On still living creatures?” Sukuna pressed. “During a battle, with Techniques you’ve never used before?” His second stomach grumbled out a laugh that made me even redder. “I thought Kenjaku to have done you a disservice in puppeteering your demise and loss of your own body, but now?” He smiled so wide his secondary eyes had to squint. “Oh, I cannot wait to see what you become with my Techniques at your fingertips. Perhaps, in time, when I finally gain a true host, we shall see what your own Techniques blossom into.” I wiggled awkwardly in his hold, embarrassed beyond belief. “I shall simply have to meet your expectations, then, Sukuna-sama.”

He tucked me close, and his body radiated warmth. Not the way humans did; a way that couldn’t be replicated, but the roaring heat of standing next to a bonfire. “Uraume would like you,” he declared, as though his word was law and simply him stating it made it true. I smiled despite myself. “I look forward to meeting them.”

“They reincarnate?” “Mhm. They go out in an incredible battle against one of Gojo’s Third Years. Not by losing, but on their own terms upon realising you yourself have been defeated. You both reincarnate into a new life together.”

Sukuna was silent for some time, and during that time I produced another piece of paper from whatever manifestation of my mind this place was tied to. I had begun an origami bird, and was half way through the steps I remembered when he spoke again. “How do I die, then?”

I shook my head. “Self-fulfilling prophecies. I don’t want to risk it, Sukuna-sama. I will do what I can to prevent it, but it is best if you don’t think about it.”

“Why are you so intent on my survival?”

I blinked up at the Curse. “Beyond my soul being bound to your’s?”

“Before Kenjaku tied us to one another. You sought him out to warn him. Why?”
I shrugged. “I don’t like him and don’t agree with his methods. It wasn’t so much a warning as it was a… Experiment. I wanted to see what he’d do next. Didn’t expect any of this,” I gestured to the Domain around us, “but hey, now I have motivation to see him fail. And your survival was because I had a vested interest in both your and Yuuji’s situation. Kenjaku considers Yuuji a failure despite his ability to keep you contained. He’s ‘boring’, apparently. Kenjaku caused his family so much harm and he just… walked away!” I ground my teeth. “I want to see him succeed to spite him, and for you to regain a body to kick the shit out of him.” I paused, then added; “And I’ll admit, I’m fond of the kid.”

Sukuna chuckled, pulling me closer. “I can see your reasoning. I myself am intrigued to see how the brat will grow. And…” He looked away. “I am reminded of someone.”

I gaped despite myself. Fans had theorised about Sukuna and Uraume’s relationship since their introduction. Some turned to the mythology that had inspired Gege, others to the history of the people mentioned in jujutsu history. Consort, concubine, cook.

But here and now, with that comparison to Itadori Yuuji, and what I knew of how they met…

They were his child.

Yuuji wakes up on the couch in the dorms with an origami lotus in hand.

Chapter Text

A low voice rang out startlingly clear throughout the Domain, declaring that they would need to utilise maximum effort.

I sat up with a speed that made my spine audibly crack. I would know that voice anywhere. A grin threatened to split my face in two. Nanami Kento. How could the time have flown so? The month was already up? Yuuji was going to meet Junpei tomorrow!

A fist bonked me solidly on the top of the head. I yelped and pouted as I rubbed the rapidly forming bump, Sukuna glowering at me. “Quit your squirming, maggot.” I giggled despite myself. “Sorry, sorry, it’s just that I recognise that man, and it means Yuuji is going to meet someone, and then we’ll get to meet someone else–”

“By Enma,” Sukuna groaned, dragging a hand down his face, “speak clearly in my presence or do not speak at all.” I smiled at the exasperation in his voice. It drew forth memories of loud voices and small hands and crowded rooms.

“His name is Nanami. One of Gojo’s kohais. Quit being a Jujutsu Sorcerer while still in school after the death of the only other student in his year. Got a soul-sucking desk job, realised it sucked, went back to doing sorcery. Him being here means that he and Yuuji are investigating a Curse that is malforming the bodies of humans. Tomorrow, Yuuji is going to meet the unwilling and unaware human accomplice of said Curse. Their meeting is going to condemn that boy and his mother to a painful death.” “And you’re excited about this?” Sukuna snorted, eyebrow raised. “Very!” I chirped and received an amused chuckle in return. “Because the Curse has very strange opinions on how souls work and I need to tear him a new one to teach him otherwise.” “And here I thought you respected alternate opinions,” he crooned. “But when else am I going to get a chance to beat the shit out of someone who can completely repair their body? Besides, it will all be arranged by Kenjaku for Yuuji to make a binding vow with you, so it is best we play along. For now. I don’t intend on letting Mahito contort the soul of Yuuji’s friend.” “An unaware accomplice,” Sukuna hummed, putting his now ignored book into his lap to tuck his chin into his hand.

“A sorcerer?”

“Untrained,” I confirmed.

“Hmm. What of their technique?”

“Shikigami. He only has a poison jellyfish at the moment, but it’s not too shabby.”

“If he proves to be capable enough, then he may walk alongside our vessel.”

“How generous of you.”

“Shut.”

“Shutting.”

Yuuji, don’t let him touch either of you!

The boy, accustomed to such instructions from both people in his mind, grabs Yoshino-kun and drops to the floor, ducking out of the way of the blue-haired humanoid Curse’s outstretched hand. It will bend the soul and break the mind, Sukuna warns. Get the weakling out and let me face it. The maggot also wishes to have words with it. Yuuji can imagine the baring of teeth and the narrowing of eyes at that statement, but ignores it in favour of pushing Yoshino towards the stairs. “Go!” He yells. “One of my teachers is on the way, find him and tell him where I am!” The other teen hesitates only for a moment before nodding and sprinting away, stumbling as he takes the stairs two at a time.

“What an honour,” the Curse coos, nonchalantly trotting forwards. Mahito, Kintsugi whispers, a note of apprehension in their voice. They are afraid of the patchwork twink? Yes! They hiss back as Mahito’s smirk gets wider. I’m afraid of what he is capable of. He cannot harm any of us, but the feats he can accomplish despite being a newborn and his skewed understanding of the nature of souls… “I assume by your distraction this means I’ve caught the attention of Lord Sukuna?”

Adrenaline that is not his own rushes through his veins. His heart is pumping faster and harder in his chest. Foreign memories flood his mind for what seems like an age but he knows last only a brief moment. What would have happened if Yuuji had been a little slower, if Yoshino had hesitated a little more, if they had fought for a little longer. Yuuji sends a wave of appreciation and affection to Kintsugi before launching himself towards the Curse. Mahito would have killed his friend in a truly painful way. No matter how human he looked, he was a Curse. And like Sukuna had told him, they cannot feel emotion the same way humans do. There is no point holding him to the morality of humans. Yuuji cannot kill Mahito the same way Mahito could Yoshino, but he can certainly hurt him.

Mahito loses his smile when, after Yuuji’s fist connects, his nose begins to bleed. I’ll let you two handle this, Kintsugi murmurs as they leave the forefront of his mind. It’s best they don’t know about me just yet. More for me, Sukuna purrs, and Yuuji instinctively cringes at the tone. His brain flashes back to that weird not-flirting between Gojo-sensei and Nanamin before Mahito’s arms become blades. Yuuji ducks under a swing and tries to kick his legs out from under him. Mahito’s legs contort and bend like rubber when it connects, and Yuuji’s stomach rolls at the sight. The Curse’s body stretches like taffy to try and impale his eye out. He rolls to the side and grabs the window sill. It’s only Sukuna’s reprimands that make him raise his arms to protect his face from the glass as he jumps out the window. He lands with a roll, the way Inumaki-senpai taught him.

Mahito quickly follows, glass haloing him in the rapidly darkening school yard as he lands like a cartoon. His legs compress beneath him like springs, which launch him towards Yuuji. Jump. He springboards off of Mahito’s shoulders, squeaking as the Curse’s blade hands nearly slice his nose clean off. You lack flexibility, Sukuna grumbles. “Not helping!” Yuuji hisses through his teeth, stumbling backwards.

Mahito is relentless, swinging his arms and grinning all the while. Yuuji catches his arm on the next swing and judo-flips him over his shoulder. He keeps his momentum going by letting go and kicking him before he hits the ground. The Curse goes flying into a wall, concrete crumbling. Yuuji stalks forwards. The edges of his vision are bleeding red. A voice that is not his own gleefully informs him that it is bloodlust . Yuuji does not like hurting people.

But Mahito is not a person.

Sukuna laughs, and it grates on his ears. They watch in unison as Mahito slumps to the ground. They do not stop their approach. Mahito’s hair is stained red and his fingers twitch. But once Yuuji is within range, he surges forward and grips the teen’s ankle.

Darkness. Then a rush of red light. Red, red, red–

Mahito stands amidst the flowers in the lake of blood, eyes wide. Countless stare back.

HOW DARE YOU .

INTRUDING ON THE LAND OF A KING .

IGNORANT NEWBORN.

INSIGNIFICANT FUCK.

YOU STAND IN OUR DOMAIN AND NOT EVEN DEIGN TO SHOW RESPECT TO YOUR BETTERS? The voices bellow.

Mahito begins to tremble. There is something wrong with Sukuna’s soul. He does not sit alone atop his throne of bones.

Eight eyes stare down at him.

Four mouths grin.

His knees drop from under him.

PATHETIC. EXCEPTIONS CANNOT BE MADE AND YOU SHALL NOT BE SPARED, INSOLENT CREATURE, BUT KNOW THAT THIS IS A MERCY.

SHOULD YOU TRESPASS AGAIN, YOUR DEATH WILL NEITHER BE SWIFT NOR PAINLESS.

Mahito’s very being is torn asunder.

He begins to scream .

Chapter Text

Yuuji watched, in morbid fascination, as Mahito abruptly let go of his ankle and began to writhe. His mouth was open in a soundless scream and his eyes had rolled back into his skull.

The stitches seemingly holding the Curse together unravelled, peeling the skin away with them. Yuuji swallowed back bile as tan skin tore away to reveal white sinew and pink muscle. Mahito curled into a fetal position, hands twitching and clawing at the ground. Yuuji could see what tendons clenched and pulled to cause the movements. When Mahito raised his head, Yuuji had to look away. He only caught a glint of bone, melting issue and streaks of blue but it was enough to paint a gruesome picture.

And the noises.

Oh gods, the noises.

By the time Nanami arrived, Mahito had begun to gurgle, sounding almost as though his flesh was bubbling. Yuuji had his back to the Curse, crouching down with a hand clamped over his mouth. Kintsugi was whispering apologies when Nanami dropped down next to him. “Are you alright, Itadori-kun?” He asked. Yuuji shook his head, tears stinging his eyes. He swallowed back another wave of vomit before answering; “His stitches came undone.” Melting like putty in a child’s hands. Gods, what did they do to him!? Yuuji wanted Mahito to suffer, but not like– not like…

Nanami made a strange noise, like a dog-toy being stepped on, and Yuuji looked up to see putty-Mahito oozing into a drain. Retreating back into the sewers, Sukuna grumbled. Coward. Yuuji was almost grateful that the Curse had ran. Now he wouldn’t have to look at it ever again. “Are you hurt anywhere?” Nanami asked, placing his hands on Yuuji’s shoulders like he intended to pat him down for injuries. He shook his head, throat stinging and mouth dry. “Bruises from jumping out the window, and there might be glass in my hair, but that’s all.” “That’s all!?” Nanami exclaimed, louder than Yuuji had ever heard him speak before. “And what do you mean you jumped out a window?” Yuuji shrugged; his teacher’s hands still firmly gripping his shoulders. “The brat has punched through concrete,” a familiar voice scoffed, and Nanami flinched. “A drop from a three story window is not even going to put a dent in him.” Nanami’s eyes narrowed behind his weird glasses. “Sukuna.” “The one and only,” Kintsugi mocked and Yuuji stifled a sudden snort, ducking his head to hide his grin as he combed through his hair to dislodge the glass shards. “Gojo expected you to be more… talkative.” “The brat annoys me, and frankly it is a waste of my time to engage with anyone less than a Special Grade. Especially by your modern standards. A disgrace to the term.” Kintsugi did a strangely good Sukuna impression. They sounded just as imperial and bored as the real deal. “I do not fit your standards, then?” “Hm. Your Technique needs refinement, but you are boring, 7 to 3. Not creative, not particularly clever, you lack the finesse and edge that would elevate you to Special Grade. You aren’t worth my time.” Then the Curse went quiet, Yuuji’s skin smoothing back down and the extra eye and mouth sealing back up.

Mouth no longer feeling like he was chewing on drywall, Yuuji asked; “Where’s Yoshino-kun? Is he okay?” Nanami nodded, and stood, reaching a hand to help the teen up. “He is currently with Ino-kun. You will both need a check-up from Ieiri-sensei, so it is best not to dawdle.”

He doesn’t sound ruffled by your words at all, Yuuji thought as he dutifully trotted behind Nanamin. Sorcerers should not be so easily disturbed by mere words, Sukuna said. Damn that cowardly Patchface, I was itching for freedom. Next time, Kintsugi soothed. This is not the last we’ll see of Mahito, I can assure you. Besides, I called dibs.

Then you backed out! Dibs rescinded.

Not how dibs works, Sukuna-sama.

I have been around for longer than you, that is how it works.

Yuuji bit his lip to stifle his laughter as the two Curses taking up residence in his head bickered all the way back to the car. No matter what eldritch bullshit they were both capable of, they’d been human once, and they certainly acted like it. Yuuji was glad for the reminder.

Yuuji does not recognise the entryway he’s standing in. There’s a shoe rack by the door filled with boots and trainers, framed photos on the walls and laughter echoing from another room. It’s a dream, he knows that much, but this isn’t his and his grandfather’s home. He toes off his shoes, just to be polite, before padding down the hall. He sends a quick apology to his gramps for not wearing slippers as a guest, but there are no spares and this is a dream, so he figures he can be forgiven just this once. The little hallway leads to an open-plan apartment, a small kitchenette connecting to a living room. European in design, he thinks, before registering that there are people here.

They look like college students, happy and laughing despite the books and notes spread haphazardly across the floor. There’s something playing on the TV in the background, but it’s too quiet for him to hear. They’re chatting away in a language that sounds foreign to his ears, but he recognises it as English from the few times he’s heard Kintsugi speak it.

Kintsugi.

Yuuji has to do a double take. There, sitting sideways across a couch with their legs draped over someone’s lap, is Kintsugi. But they’re not the Kintsugi that he knows. Their hair is tied back from their face and they’re laughing uproariously. They’re tired, yes, Yuuji can see their eyebags from here, but they are much healthier. Their skin isn’t pallid, there are no scars, they don’t look like a corpse anymore.

They’re alive.

He’s watching one of their memories.

With this new revelation, Yuuji reprises his surroundings. The books on the floor look like medical textbooks. That means these people are Not-Kintsugi’s college classmates! He pats himself on the back for figuring that one out.

Carefully stepping around the adults and papers on the floor, he approaches the bookshelves. The titles are all in English, but there are cacti and photos sitting there as well. He picks up the first one that catches his eye. Not-Kintsugi’s hair is shorter and they’re holding a piece of paper and beaming. Someone stands next to them, much shorter but nearly identical, and they are wearing a graduation cap. Yuuji has seen enough American movies to know that this is likely a photo of Not-Kintsugi’s college graduation. So they do have a younger sibling, Yuuji thought, and his heart panged. He was an only child, so he couldn’t really understand, but it must be awful to know that you did have a sibling but you can’t remember their face, much less their name.

They look happy. Yuuji puts the picture back.

He moves around the room, examining the photos and books left out. There is manga on the shelves, but Yuuji isn’t familiar with any of them. He’d have to ask later. Especially about the ones with the black cover and fancy writing. Not all the pictures have Not-Kintsugi in them, and Yuuji recognises some of the people as those in the study group. Do they live together?

He looks back at the group. Not-Kintsugi is gesturing wildly and talking animatedly, much to everyone’s amusement. Yuuji wonders how they could’ve ended up the sad, tired Curse that he shares a body with. They still smile, but it doesn’t always reach their eyes. Did this version of Kintsugi know what was going to happen to them yet, what was coming to pass? He doubted anyone would be able to laugh like that if they were planning on seeking out Kenjaku, like he’d been told Kintsugi had.

Yuuji wonders if their death was painful. He wonders if they remember it, or if it was just another thing about themselves that was lost forever.

Chapter Text

The maggot was only putting on a calm facade for the brat. Once he fell asleep and did not join them in their joint Domain, they let loose.

“DAMN IT!” They roared, bones rattling around them. It was almost as if the air itself trembled. “ MALLACHT MO CHAIT ORT, MAHITO! THE NEXT TIME I SEE THAT LITTLE FUCKER, IT’S ON SIGHT! I WILL TEAR HIM ASUNDER AND SPLAY THE GORE OF HIS PROFANE FORM ACROSS THE STARS!! HIS DEATH WILL NEITHER BE SWIFT NOR PAINLESS!!!”

Sukuna’s eyes widened at the sheer hate that flowed off the intruder in waves. Their vitriol smelled divine. He bet it tasted just as good as well.

Kintsugi panted, body shaking with exertion. “He’s going to tell Kenjaku.” Their voice was hoarse. “After such a humiliating defeat?” Sukuna mocked; still picking Patch-work’s blood out from under his nails. “I would be surprised if he didn’t exorcise himself out of shame alone.” But Kintsugi just shook their head. “No, no– you don’t understand, Kenjaku is going to know about us. He’ll know I wasn’t assimilated, he’ll know that we’re looking after Yuuji–”

“And he’ll know that we’ve told him.” Sukuna finished, horror creeping in. “Yes! Feck’s sake, I should have taken the chance and killed him then and there, he’s going to be a Special Grade by Samhain.”

“Samhain?”

“Shite, sorry, October 31st, the end of the harvest and beginning of winter.”

“Hm. That is still some time away. We have the rest of the summer to whip the brat and the other brats into shape.”

“Three days,” they corrected with a sigh, lowering themselves into the water. “Kenjaku is sending other Curses to the school event in three days.”

“Do they all survive?” “Well, yeah, but–” “Then what are you worried about?” Sukuna scoffed. Didn’t they have any trust in their shared vessel’s abilities? He was an idiotic brat, but he wasn’t completely useless. “Because this changes things!” They yelled, throwing up their hands in exasperation. “Mahito tells Kenjaku that something is up with your soul. He might not know what, but if he noticed enough details then Kenjaku is going to realise. When he realises that I’m here, he’ll most definitely change the attack plans, which means all of our planning was for nothing!” “You give Kenjaku too much credit,” Sukuna rebuffed.

“He orchestrated the fall of an entire branch of a bloodline.” Kintsugi retorted, dragging a tired hand down their face. “And specifically bred a new race of human-curse hybrids. And all of this.” They gestured to the Domain at large.

Ugh. They had a point, loathe as he was to admit it. Kenjaku had had this scrupulously planned for centuries. He wouldn’t take well to a former main player tossing out his carefully curated chess board.

“I should have eaten him when I had the chance,” he groused. Kintsugi snorted: an indelicate sound. “Prion disease. He would have screwed you over that way.” Sukuna paused his groaning to raise his head in interest. “Prion disease?” “Fatal disease that targets the prions – proteins in the brain that help it function – in your body and causes rapid cellular decay. It can be caused by number of things, but eating Kenjaku would count as contaminated meat, variant CJD.” “How so?” Sukuna asked, leaning forward on his throne. What an intriguing maggot, and what a world this was to have such information so readily available. He was going to have to keep this little scholar at his side when he gained a true form. Would they be satisfied as his sole royal concubine? They would be able to continue their research to their hearts’ desire.

Kintsugi continued happily despite the morbid topic, the clouds of gloom quickly parting. “The cerebrospinal fluid. It’s the clear liquid in the brain that cushions both it and the spine, and keeps the brain clean. It can transmit prion disease as well, although the risk is low. Knowing Kenjaku though, I wouldn’t risk it. He is a brain with teeth. Don’t put that anywhere near your body. Besides, prion disease is lethal and brains don’t look like they taste very good.” “You’d be surprised.” “I think I’ll pass,” they chuckled. Sukuna smiled despite himself. He enjoyed these conversations, more than he ever would have imagined himself doing so. “Why do you know all of this?” Kintsugi shrugged, which looked incredibly strange when they were lying on their back in the water. “Dunno. Just picked it up somewhere, I guess. Must have learnt it during a rabbit hole about the effects of cannibalism on the human body.”

“You were researching this in a schooling environment?”

“Not originally. I was researching STEM cells – the things that repair wounds in the body – and how the STEM cells in axolotls could be used to repair severe spinal injuries in humans.”

“What’s an axolotl?” He asked and Kintsugi sat bolt upright with a gasp.

“Oh my gods you’ve never seen an axolotl before.”

Chapter Text

Yuuji stifled his laughter behind his hands as he scurried along behind the low wall. Kintsugi was snickering along with him, and even Sukuna was deeply smug. Something about blood games? Yuuji was just happy to play hide and seek like a little kid again.

"They're going to be aiming for you," Megumi announced when Yuuji flopped onto the grass beside him. "No 'hi' or 'hello'?" Yuuji whined, then registered what his friend had said. "Huh? What do you mean?"

"The Kyoto students will try to kill you," Panda-senpai explained from beneath the shade of the tree beside them. "Because I'm Sukuna's vessel?" Maki-senpai huffed in annoyance. "No, because of your radiant personality. Yes because you're his vessel!" "Idiot," Nobara snipped, flicking him in the forehead. Yuuji pouted and ducked away. "They're just allowed to kill me? But my execution was delayed!" "You think they'll care?" Maki-senpai asked, raising a thin eyebrow. Junpei trotted over with Toge-senpai, panting and wiping sweat from his forehead. "What are we talking about?" He asked, dropping down beside Yuuji. Junpei had flourished under Toge-senpai's training; lanky with pointy limbs and quick reflexes. He didn't have a lot of muscle but he was agile, which, according to Sukuna, was a good start to building a base to start working on his shikigami.

"How all the Kyoto students want to kill me," Yuuji dead-panned. Junpei blinked slowly, then nodded. "Um, yeah, I'm not going to question that. The other students want you dead and none of the teachers are going to do anything about it." "Shake," Toge-senpai agreed, sitting cross-legged. "Okay," Junpei nodded again, a strange look on his face. "What's the plan, then?"

Silence fell like the thump of snow slipping off a roof. Unexpected and a cold shock to the system. "What do you mean, Fish-bangs?" Nobara questioned. She'd sat up on her elbows to glare at Junpei as though he was the one arranging Yuuji's assassination. The teen shot Yuuji a confused look, mouthing 'Fish-bangs' in confusion. Yuuji shrugged back, whispering, "Go along with it." "Isn't it obvious?" Junpei asked to the group at large. "They want Yuuji-kun dead. This is a bad thing. We either stop them in the act or stop them from being able to try at all. So, which is it?"

"You're not as stupid as you look," Maki-senpai -- complimented? It wasn't all that clear. Junpei shot him another look, this one asking 'these are the people I'm supposed to be working with?' "Yuuji-kun is required to play. The aim is to exorcise more Curses than the other school, but we all know that isn't what Kyoto are going to be aiming for."

"So- what?" Yuuji drawled. "I have to play, but that's how they'd get me. There's safety in numbers, but that makes it easier to find us. What are our options?"

They argued about their options for maybe an hour until Yuuji's roommates got bored.

"Why don't you just hide?" Kintsugi yelled, exasperated. They sounded like they'd spent the past hour yelling at a terrible slasher movie in the cinema. It said a lot about the mental state of teenagers trained to kill that none of them batted an eye at the extra mouth on Yuuji's neck. Megumi offered the mouth a gummy worm, which it accepted happily. "Yuuji-kun wouldn't be allowed." "Only if the other students and teacher know he's there," they said around the gummy worm. Yuuji hummed in thought as Kintsugi chewed away on the sweet. Should he be letting Kintsugi and Sukuna taste more modern day Japanese snacks? Sukuna was old and Kintsugi was European. They'd probably never had dango before!

Panda-senpai put his chin in his paw. "They make a good point. If they don't think Yuuji-kun is here, they aren't going to be looking for him." "But where else would he be?" Megumi argued. "He just got back from a mission with Nanami-sensei, it's on record." "Wait!" Yuuji exclaimed, sitting bolt upright and startling Junpei. "It isn't! Or, I mean, I'm not! Because we weren't supposed to fight Mahito, so Nanamin didn't mention me. He said Ino-san helped instead!" He could see the moment when the light bulbs clicked on his friends' faces. "You've finally had a good idea, Yuuji-kun!" Nobara cheered, shaking him violently by the shoulders. Kintsugi choked on the last of the gummy worm as Junpei and Maki-senpai laughed at his misfortune. "So, that's it?" Megumi protested, disbelieving. "He just, doesn't show up? What are we going to say when Gojo asks where he is?"

“You want to prank the Kyoto students!” Gojo squealed, like Christmas had come early. “You truly are my students! Oh, I’m so proud.”

I grinned as Gojo continued to fawn over his students like a proud mother, to various degrees of disgust from the students in question. Sukuna chuckled lowly beside me. “This is going to be deeply enjoyable,” he remarked. “It is,” I agreed with a delighted laugh. “The Kyoto students are rather stupid. Utahime-san did her best, but honestly, her kids are not the brightest.”

“Even the ones you brought attention to?”

“Especially them.”

“It takes a certain kind of stupid to be a sorcerer. Behold, the finest example of such stupidity.” Sukuna gestured with a snort towards Gojo. Well, not really. Gojo Satoru was not in their Domain. I still didn’t really understand how we were simultaneously able to look at each other AND what Yuuji was seeing, but I assumed it was because of our second set of eyes. I tried not to think about it too much; it made my head hurt.

The students were still roping Gojo into their plan: pretend that Yuuji was a ghost story the third years spread to scare the younger years and that the teachers played along with as a warning to what happened to people who messed with cursed objects. Their justification for why the older students hadn’t heard about it before was because Yuuji was a ghost that clung to the place he died.

Ghosts, apparently, don’t exist. I call hearsay, but to each their own.

Their lynch pin in this scheme was Junpei, to fill the place of the third student vouch for his peers in saying that there was never another first year. Gojo had kept his enrollment a secret from whatever old coots were keeping an eye on the school with Nanami’s help in forging paperwork, much to Ijichi’s presumed dismay. Junpei’s mother was hospitalised after the attack, and Junpei had been pulled out of school to care for her. At least, that was the official reason. In reality, Junpei’s mother had an unlocked Technique of her own that Shoko was helping her train while she recovered, and Junpei had joined the first years. A wonderful cover story, if you asked me.

I watched on fondly as the students eagerly took on roles and assigned duties to one another. “The Kyoto students won’t know what hit them.”

Chapter Text

Sometimes, when emotions or tensions grow high, Yuuji almost feels... diluted. Like he's been cut open and had his organs rearranged. A jigsaw with no box and several pieces mixed in that don’t belong.

Like now, for instance.

As he sits in the shadows away from the prying eyes of the Kyoto students, eavesdropping, he gets the strangest feeling of deja-vu. Sensations and memories fill his head too fast for him too truly understand.

Hiding in empty classrooms--

Crouched under an awning out of sight--

Echoing laughter in dark rooms--

Stifled breathing--

Being hunted---

Either way, it freaks him out. Where Kintsugi and Sukuna had been eager to play this game of ghost earlier, now they seemed tense. Paranoid, even: like animals before a hurricane.

Are the Kyoto students that much of a threat to his safety, or is he just rubbing off on them? Is there something else they’re worried about?

Yuuji ducks out an open doorway and into an empty pavilion. No time to dwell on it, he supposes; he's got a game to win.

Sukuna curls his lip in distaste.

Every flare of Cursed Energy draws his attention and makes his fangs grind together. He hates waiting like this, counting down the minutes until the Veil is erected. The maggot’s paranoia is infectious.

The maggot in question paces back and forth, stirring the bloody waters around their calves. The flowers that had invaded with them brighten whenever they pass by, not withering like one might expect. The stench of pollen fills the air, overpowering his Domain’s usual rot. He knows it is a bad idea but is drawn all the same to the fruit that grows along the columns of his shrine, picking a star shaped fruit from by his throne. It stings his tongue and stains his fingers yellow. They are too busy to reprimand him for consuming poison.

The interloper had grinned when he brought it up and identified each fruit as he pointed it out. The white flowered plants at the base of the steps are called cicuta, which cause painful spasms of the body until the body’s lungs fail, causing death. Earlier, they had braided those very flowers into a crown before placing it on his head. The sapling that curls around the maggot’s favoured spot to sit apparently known as ‘the little apple of death’. Even the perfume of the tree is lethal. He does not know why they insist on sitting beside it, but he swears the plant grows with each switch they and the vessel perform. Soon, they claim, it will be mature enough to grow fruit. Sukuna can’t help but wonder how the apples will taste.

The only plant he actually recognises himself is the othalanga. It grows in a small tree hidden by the temple’s shadow, and more than once Sukuna has fantasised about tying Kenjaku down and stuffing as many kernels as he can fit into the bastard’s mouth.

The maggot is wearing one of the flowers in their hair.

The plantlife that now grows where only bones once lay serve well to take his mind off the current situation. He wonders how they relate back to the interloper’s Cursed Technique, which has yet to reveal itself. They have used Sukuna’s Techniques to alter not just bodies but souls, feeding on them in hopes of regaining what power they once held.

Or, rather, to try and unearth their new power, he reminds himself. They had been a scholar in their past life, not a sorcerer. Would their eventual power resemble that of the Cursed Spirit he could sense deep in the woods, tasting of petrichor and soil? Or would it be that of the air here, sickeningly sweet and full of false allure? Will plants grow to restrain victims, hold them still for their dissections? Will poison fill sorcerers’ stomachs until it spills from blood stained lips?

Sukuna briefly wonders if Kintsugi tastes as painfully sweet as the fruit that coats his tongue.

His attention is captured by a snarl that rattles the ribcage above them both. The maggot has stilled and is now baring their teeth. Then he notices what they have already.

A disgusting stench.

A familiar stench.

Mahito.

Megumi couldn’t believe he’d let himself relax. Their plan had been going so well, none of the Kyoto students suspected anything. He should have expected everything to go to Hell.

From his spot half face-down in the river bed with some kind of thorns growing in his gut, he can do nothing but watch as Yuuji, Maki-senpai and that strange sorcerer with the switching Technique beat down the Special Grade. Why did it always come to this? Yuuji, Maki, everyone protecting him when it really should be the other way around. He was always the damsel in distress. Wasn’t he supposed to be the one with one of the most powerful Techniques in history, with power to rival Gojo Satoru himself?

Sukuna was right. He really was a waste of Ten Shadows. All he was good for was running away.

He could only make out a few of the things being said through the pain. A voice that was Sukuna but not saying something about ‘sages’ and how ‘it was not the common man who was responsible for the state of the Earth’. He wanted to yell that it wasn’t the time to be debating about climate change, but as soon as the thought entered his mind, the fight came to an abrupt end.

Gritting his teeth to fight against the nausea, he forces himself into an upright position. Maki-senpai’s injured arm hung by her side but Playful Cloud was still held ready. However, both Todo-senpai and Yuuji were standing at ease despite how they had been fighting the Curse not even seconds before. Now that the deluge of Cursed Energy had calmed, he knew could make out Kintsugi’s voice. Apparently, the person the Cursed Spirit – Hanami? – worked for was the one who killed Kintsugi and bound both them and Sukuna to the Twenty Fingers. They were all his pawns, they claimed, and Hanami would have more success at healing the planet by working alongside humans and sorcerers rather than against.

Was he concussed? He was pretty sure he was concussed.

Water splashed in his face and he spluttered, blinking rapidly. “Honestly, the moment I leave you two alone you go picking fights you can’t handle!” Nobara scorned, kicking at his side playfully. She frowned when all Megumi did was wince. “Urchin head? What’s wrong with you?”

Suddenly, her face scrunched up as she assumedly caught sight of the strange growth in his abdomen. “Shit, that doesn’t look good. We need to get you to Shoko-sensei.”

“No need, Nobara-kun,” a voice called out, and Megumi flinched despite himself. Even when they did their best to keep their Cursed Energy hidden, Kintsugi still struck fear in his bones. Yuuji beamed as he approached, followed closely by their senpais and the Cursed Spirit. “Hanami-san here will be handling it.” Nobara’s eyes narrowed, but with a muttered; “what are you, Doctor Doolittle?” she stepped aside to allow the two passage.

Normally, Megumi wouldn’t let a Curse so close.

Normally.

Yuuji, Kintsugi and Sukuna seemed to make it their mission to go against all Jujutsu norms.

He watched with a muted interest as Hanami pulled the thorns and plant matter from his body with ease, sealing the wound as though it had never been there in the first place. He remained where he was, drained of energy and sitting in a river bed, as the others continued their talks. Kintsugi instructed Maki-senpai and Nobara to escort Hanami back to the main building and explain the situation to Gojo-sensei. “Make sure all the other students are accounted for,” they urged gently. “We have reason to believe that the Cursed Spirit from you-know-what is hiding away in the trees, and it would be best to avoid any… unnecessary casualties.” Megumi felt his blood run cold at the thought of facing Mahito. While training Junpei, the other boy had admitted in whispers what the Curse had done to his mother and classmates. Yoshino-san would never be able to walk again, and those strange sentient globs of flesh had been the result of Mahito’s experimenting. Neither of them understood how Yuuji made it out intact.

Clearly, both girls understood the nature of the situation and didn’t hesitate, quickly disappearing from sight. Yuuji frowned and attempted to look at the eye and mouth on his cheek. He didn’t succeed, but in Megumi’s still pain-addled mind it was rather humorous. “Didn’t you say Nobara-kun is one of the best people to fight him?” “I did, but you are immune to his Technique. Unfortunately, we must divide and conquer. Once Megumi-san has the energy, we will hunt him before he can hunt us.”

“I have no protests in fighting alongside my brother!” Todo-senpai happily declared, which- what? When had that happened? “But I must ask you an important question, Sukuna!” Oh no. He wasn’t actually going to– “What kind of woman is your type?”

You could hear the water rushing by in the silence that ensued. Megumi felt something die inside him in second-hand embarrassment.

“What.”

“My mentor believes that what a person’s type is can tell you about what kind of person they are, so what’s your type?”

“Hm. I haven’t given it much thought, really. I suppose I have a preference for certain body types, especially those larger than my own because they are a sign of being capable of survival, but I don’t particularly care about anatomy. I tend to find myself attracted to intelligence and competence even if I never act on it. Fighting prowess, certainly, but I have rarely courted in the past.”

Todo-senpai scratched his cheek. “Huh. I didn’t expect you to actually answer. That’s an acceptable choice.” Megumi ignored what other nonsense the second-year spewed, focusing more on Yuuji. He seemed, confused, almost, like the answer had surprised him. And maybe it had, the two Curses that lived within him were hardly prone to discussion about their preference in partners.

But he found his attention drifting even further from the conversation in front of him, catching sight of someone in the trees, rapidly approaching. He couldn’t make out who they were, but they were vaguely humanoid. One of the Kyoto teachers? But the silhouette was wrong for both Utahime-sensei and Gakuganji-sensei–

A spear made of flesh pierced Yuuji’s torso. He watched in horror as the wound grew, quickly splitting Yuuji’s body in two.

And then it widened.

Like a flower of blood and gore, Yuuji was bent backwards by the force of his ribs and flesh splaying outwards in a terrifying display.

It all happened so quickly, all he and Todo-senpai could do was wretch.

But as Mahito approached, crowing his victory…

Something changed.

Yuuji was not moving. His weight should have sent him falling to the ground, but his feet remained planted to the ground. Blood continued to drip in dark rivers, but they were all that did.

Then Megumi heard it.

What sounded like the groans of old floorboards but he knew to truly be bones echoed from the still body. Yuuji’s bones were convulsing under his flesh, and Megumi had to fight back another heave as he realised that Yuuji’s ribcage was growing. His upper body extended and sent his head rolling back limply, two sets of eyes a blank white. A trail of blood leaked from the corner of his mouth as the wound Mahito caused suddenly grew even larger. The ribs already fractured cracked open wider and seemed to rearrange themselves below Yuuji’s now twitching arms. The rest of the displayed flesh attached itself to the bones and grew rapidly across them, building up muscle.

Yuuji– no, this wasn’t Yuuji anymore.

Sukuna straightened with a painful crunching noise and flexed his tattooed arms, claws glinting in the mid-day sun.

From where he sat, Megumi could clearly see the Curse’s lungs inflating and heart beating in the now exposed chest cavity.

The King of Curses smiled and Megumi found himself praying that the girls would find Gojo-sensei soon. He did not want to be caught in the cross-fire of this battle.