Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Yuuji looked in the mirror in muted horror at the two extra eyelids resting just above his cheekbones, serving as a reminder that he did not, in fact, hallucinate that vision. 

“Of course you didn’t, you fool.” 

Oh god, okay, now Yuuji is insane. Okay great, you know what? Maybe he will take up on the hospital’s offer for therapy. Maybe his grandfather’s death did take more of a toll on him than he thought it did. 

“No, you stupid brat. You aren’t insane.” 

The right eye opened and a mouth appears, teeth curved and tongue blood red. Startled, Yuuji punched the mirror on instinct. As the realization set in, he slowly slid down the bathroom wall to sit on the floor before his legs decided to give out, mindful of the glass that had fallen to the ground. 

The mouth sighed.  “Do you remember what happened last night?” 

Yuuji frowned, trying to remember the night before. “I went to a party because some kid invited me and I ate a brownie...? Then I was hanging out with some girls but I left ‘cause I felt sick… because— the brownie wasn’t— fuck, the brownie was laced with something else too! And then I came home and I ate something else? I think it was wax?” 

“No, imbecile. You ate my finger.” 

Yuuji stilled, his hands carefully setting the broken glass down, and clasped his hands together in front of his face as if to pray. 

“Run that by me again?” 

A foreign feeling of disgust, rage, and disbelief rose in his gut. What the fuck is wrong with him? 

“You, child, came back here after eating your... brownie, and had the brilliant idea of chowing down on my finger, which brings me to the next question.” 

Between one breath and the other, Yuuji’s surroundings changed. The fluorescent lights and white walls of his house’s bathroom gave way to what seemed to be a large cavern, with a seemingly general theme of weirdly colored water and bones, if the mountain of animal skulls, pillars of bones, and floor made out of some sort of liquid (Jesus Christ, Yuuji desperately hopes it isn’t blood), seemed to be anything to go by.

He would’ve poked at the water (again with a very large question mark forming in his mind), beneath his feet if not for the face mere inches from his own. 

It was his face, only not. Decorated by stark black lines outlining the face, running down his jaw to the chin and coming to a stop just below the second pair of eyes, which had opened. He had a black stripe over his nose and a marking on his forehead. Yuuji’s doppelganger had a sneer on his face, hair slicked up and pushed back. He wore a white kimono and a black scarf, Yuuji spied two black lines surrounding the man’s (?) wrists. 

...Yuuji really needed to ask for a name.

“How are you able to suppress me so thoroughly? I, Ryoumen Sukuna, King of Curses, so easily suppressed by a mere child?” 

Well, that answered his own question, and talk about a superiority complex. Yuuji was vaguely aware that the person (curse?), Sukuna, was still talking (more like monologuing, in all honesty) but he was still a little caught up on the whole— 

“You’re the King of Curses?”

Sukuna paused, turning to look at the boy still sitting on the ground with an expression of disgust. “I am.” 

Yuuji frowned, pulling his legs under him to stare up at Sukuna. Yuuji hasn’t got a goddamn clue as to what exactly the whole ‘King of Curses’ meant, but it must be something equivalent to a war criminal or something. “Do you actually look like that?” 

Sukuna snarled, moving away to sit on his throne. Yuuji twisted his body to keep him in his eyesight. “Originally I had four hands and two faces, before that—”

“Before?! You weren't born like that?” Yuuji really needs to practice his “staying quiet while other people are talking and giving information you will most likely need” skill. It seemed Sukuna had the same idea because the glare he received was terrifying, to say the least. 

“No, I was not. My appearance changed when I became a curse, though my former appearance did strike an uncanny resemblance to you.” The man (?) said grudgingly, staring at Yuuji like he had all the answers, (spoiler alert: Yuuji did not.) 

And that is not weird at all, nope, absolutely not weird at all. Yuuji is definitely not going to think about the possible familial connection he has with the weird possibly murderous curse person (?) thing inside him. That is above his pay grade at the moment. 

“You still have yet to answer my question.” 

What. 

“What?” 

Sukuna stared him down irritatingly, head resting on his palm. “How are you able to suppress me so easily? I am over a thousand years old, the most feared and renowned of the curses. It took years for sorcerers to be able to subdue me. Dominating you is something I should be able to do in my sleep. What makes a brat like you so special?” 

Yuuji blinked. What the fuck is a sorcerer? What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck— 

“Well, first of all, my name is Itadori Yuuji, and just ‘cause I ate your finger or whatever doesn’t mean you can take over my body whenever you want to, and the very fact that you choose the word dominate is kinda weird. I’m seventeen, you know? Major age difference there.” He got up and started wandering around the cavern, idly wondering how the liquid didn’t seep into his socks and how blasé he was about this whole situation, maybe it was shock? He'd once read that it can cause numbness or something, maybe that was it. “And I don’t know how I’m able to stop you from taking over my body. But I must be doing something right.” 

He turned back around and barely stopped himself from stumbling back in surprise at seeing Sukuna right behind him, hands tucked into his kimono sleeves and red eyes burning with narrow-eyed curiosity. 

“Can you let me back out?”

Wordlessly Sukuna complied, and Yuuji was back in his bathroom sitting in the middle of the broken glass. He blinked, softly swearing as he looked at how much glass there was. He began the process of cleaning up the mess before calling in sick to school to finish up the funeral details for his grandfather. The sun had just risen, and Yuuji just knew he would not sleep until long after the sun set. 

✻

For as long as Yuuji could remember, it’s always been just his grandfather and him. His grandpa told him his parents died before Yuuji had been able to walk, a car accident he said. They had left Yuuji with his grandfather for a rare night out turned late-work meeting and hadn’t returned. His grandfather said that at the time he wasn’t surprised. 

“They were dedicated people, driven and steadfast in their work. Almost too driven, sometimes they would drop you off with me and head off to another meeting because they had gotten a call for potential business connections.” His grandfather said when Yuuji was about eight and curious as to why his classmates would get picked up by their parents and him by his grandpa. “So when they didn’t come back I had assumed they had gotten a work call. I didn’t think anything of it until I got a knock on the door that afternoon and got the news.” 

“Did they love me?” Yuuji had asked, sitting on the counter of his grandfather’s bakery and café, idly spinning on the high chair. (Later, he would think about this interaction and realize that his grandfather never gave an actual answer.) "Did they feel sad whenever they had to leave me?" 

“They were your parents.” He had said quietly, a strange look on his face. Then the expression cleared and he beckoned Yuuji over, “Come here, taste this pastry.” 

Yuuji’s grandfather had looked so terribly sad when he spoke about them, so Yuuji decided then and there to never ask again if only to never see that grieving expression on his grandpa’s face. 

Besides, he thought cheerfully, we have each other and the bakery to keep us company. 

✻

The day his grandfather died started out like any other, Yuuji woke up before the sun to prepare his lunch and finish any homework he hadn’t done the night before. He went to school, messed around at the occult club, and argued with the track and field coach for the fifth time that week. 

Some kid in his class invited him to a party during a break. Ito, the kid, had followed him to the vending machine and went on and on about how crazy it would be. 

“Seriously, Itadori-kun!” He grinned, braces on full display. “You have to go! I invited all the hot girls in our year! Ushimaru-chan is gonna be there, and you know she has the biggest crush on you!” 

Leaning against the wall, Yuuji willed himself to not outwardly grimace as he pretended to thoughtfully chew on his straw. Offering Ito an apologetic grin he declined. “Ah, sorry, Ito-kun! I promised my grandpa I would visit him. Maybe next time, yeah?” 

Ito looked crestfallen, making Yuuji feel the tiniest bit sorry for him. Then Ito perked up and Yuuji mercilessly crushed what little pity he felt for him. “We should trade numbers then! Just in case you do change your mind, send me a text and I’ll send you the address!” 

Realizing Ito wouldn’t budge unless he agreed, Yuuji tiredly exchanged numbers with him. 

“Wow, Itadori-kun! You know a lot of people, huh?” Ito’s eyes shone with awe and just a hint of envy at Yuuji’s perceived popularity as he scrolled through Itadori's contact list. 

Yuuji rubbed the back of his neck, unwilling to tell him that half of them were girls who had shoved their numbers on pieces of paper to him before running away with burning faces and half of the people on sports teams who were still attempting to recruit him into their teams and that the only reason he had actually entered them into his phone was pure courtesy. 

“Yeah, I know a couple of people.” 

“Ito!” 

Taking shameless advantage of his classmate's distraction, Yuuji quietly slipped away in hopes of finishing his strawberry milk before the bell rang. Glancing down at the new contact in his phone, Yuuji snorted. 

“It’s not like I’ll actually go,” Yuuji told himself, tucking his phone back into his pocket. 

✻

“Yuuji,” his grandfather murmured, watching Yuuji arrange the flowers he had bought from the flower shop across the hospital. “Don’t die with regrets, okay? Surround yourself with people who love you. Make fond memories with those in your favor, child. And while you’re at it, bring back the restaurant to its former glory alright?” 

His grandfather waited until Yuuji nodded, before nodding himself and reaching out to pat Yuuji’s hand. The sun's rays were slipping over the horizon, casting long shadows into his grandfather's hospital room. it was cold and quiet, the ever-present beeping of his grandfather's heart monitor steadily reporting his heartbeat, Yuuji listened to the rhythmic beep-beep-beep with a rising sense of desperation. 

“You’re talking like you’re gonna die, gramps,” Yuuji whispered through the emerging lump in his throat, unwilling to break the quiet and somber mood that had settled in the room, fingers interlocking with his grandfather’s, childishly wishing that his grandfather could live forever and ever. Neither of them acknowledged the raspy breaths his grandfather took to speak again. 

“I’ve arranged for you to take ownership of the bakery back in Tokyo,” Gramps went on like he didn’t hear Yuuji. Suddenly his hold tightened, reminding Yuuji that Itadori Wasuke was a powerful man in his own right back in his prime and far long after. “I love you, Yuuji, and I'm proud to have raised you into the boy you are today. Make fond memories with those in your favor, surround yourself with people who love you, and do not die with regrets. ” 

Yuuji nodded again, swallowing back a sob that threatened to erupt from his chest. His grandfather nodded one last time, smiled at him, squeezed his hand one more time as if to reassure him, and closed his eyes. His heart monitor grew slower, stuttering like it had never before, then- His grandfather took one last breath, exhaled, and grew still. 

The heart monitor did not beep again. It never would. 

Yuuji’s hand trembled and shook, but didn’t dare let go until his grandfather’s grip turned slack. Yuuji held back his sobs until his grandfather’s previously warm and secure hold turned cold and unresponsive. 

Itadori Wasuke was dead, and Yuuji was all alone in the world. 

(His grandfather’s last words settled over him like shackles.

"Do not die with regrets.") 

✻

Walking out of the hospital after signing the release forms for his grandfather’s body and taking even more forms to sign them back at his coldemptyalonetoobig house was not something Yuuji ever wanted to do again. The nurse looked at him with barely hidden pity in her eyes as she gathered up the papers to place in a manila-colored folder and sent him on his way. 

The proclamation of the end of Itadori Wasuke's end is in a folder no bigger than his chest when his grandfather was always larger than life. It left a bad taste in Yuuji's mouth. 

“I offer my condolences,” the nurse whispered. 

Yuuji avoided her eyes while muttering something that could pass as acknowledgment. Shoving the folder into his school bag, he leaned on the outside wall of the hospital. He knew deep down that his grandfather wasn’t going to get better. Especially when he had insisted on moving back to Sendai instead of continuing treatment in an arguably better-equipped hospital. Yuuji should've begun to prepare himself for the worst when his grandfather arranged to close down the shop for an indefinite time. 

But he had held out hope, kept an ember of hope flickering in his soul that his grandfather would rise from the hospital bed and return to his life like the whirlwind of grumpiness that he was. His grandfather was strong, and steady even when he would complain about growing pains in his body. It was half the reason why Yuuji began to help out more and more at his grandfather’s bakery and coffee shop.

That and the fact that he knew he would take over when he became of age. 

Fuck, his grandfather’s bakery.  

“Oh,” he said to himself, staring at his faintly trembling hands, “Or is it mine now? Fuck, whatever. What should I…?” 

Go home? The cold large house that he cleaned near obsessively in hopes that his grandfather would be discharged and they could live out in the countryside? No, it was full of reminders of the man who raised him and the parents who died too soon. 

Wait. 

Ito had mentioned he had a party right? And knowing his reputation he probably bribed someone into buying alcohol and it’s blown out of proportion. Should he try..? Yeah, he should, anything to keep his mind off his grandfa—

Itadori: hey ito, send me your address, i’ll come by for a bit

The boy messaged back quicker than expected, Yuuji figured he was the type to keep his phone on hand at all times. 

Ito: I knew you’d come around! 

Ito: Just click the link I sent! It should send you to the maps app and take you to my house. 

Itadori: cool thanks 

Arriving at Ito’s house proved him right, there were some classmates sitting out on the porch nursing beer bottles. Yuuji squinted at them, trying to figure out if any of them knew that that particular brand of beer caused terrible diarrhea the morning after. Probably not, whatever, not his problem.

“Yuuji!” 

Ito came from somewhere behind him and stumbled up to him, smiling crookedly at him. He smelled like bad booze. This time Yuuji didn’t bother hiding his grimace, already wanting to leave to sit in a ball in his grandfather’s hardly used room and grieve. 

“Hi, Ito. You have any food around here?” 

Instead of answering Ito grabbed his arm and dragged him over to a table full of snacks and baked goods. Shoving a brownie into his hands, the boy looked at him with a mischievous smile. 

"Eat it," Ito urged, his eyes too bright and smile too wide. 

Yuuji narrowed his eyes, “What’s wrong with it?” 

Ito hemmed and hawed for a while, dancing around the question with surprising diligence. It only served to raise Itadori's hackles. 

“It has weed in it.” 

Startled, Yuuji turned to face the source of the voice. Ushimaru Chikayo flushed as she realized both Yuuji and Ito were staring at her. 

“What?” She defended herself. “You weren’t gonna tell him anything and then he would green out and get hurt or something.” 

Weed. Of course, Ito would hang around the shadier groups in school and Yuuji had seen him running around the school grounds finishing errands for them at their behest. Fuck, this was such a bad idea.

Whatever. 

“It’s alright, Ushimaru-san. I won’t eat it all, thank you for telling me though.” Yuuji couldn’t quite muster a smile for her, but whatever appeared on his face seemed to appease her. She couldn’t turn her face fast enough to hide the blush that spread from her cheeks to the tips of her ears.

“Uh, right, yeah. I’ll just— um, go. Bye, see you later!” Ushimaru turned on her heel and fled, quickly disappearing into the crowd. Yuuji stared after her, vaguely worried that he had offended her somehow. 

Ito quickly vanished the thought by bumping shoulders with him. “See?” He said excitedly. “She’s totally crushing on you!” 

“Oh, right.” What does someone say to that? “Cool.” 

Ito laughed, clapping him on the shoulder and pointing to the brownie Yuuji still had in his hand. “Anyway, make sure to eat something before you eat that. And don’t eat all of it in one sitting! Like Ushimaru-chan said, you might green out. I gotta go but I’ll see you around, okay?” 

Yuuji nodded absently, watching his classmate turn around and scamper away to a group of expensively dressed upperclassmen waving him down. Then, he unwrapped the cling film around the treat and ate it all. It tasted just like a normal brownie, barring the weird aftertaste. He guessed that was the weed. 

Tonight was a night of bad decisions it seemed because immediately after finishing the brownie he was accosted by two girls who latched themselves onto his sides. 

“Itadori-kun~! We’ve been waiting for you to come to one of Ito’s parties!” Said the one on his right. 

She had short brown hair, her bangs swept to the left with a streak of pink in the very middle. Yuuji had no idea who she was. The girl on his left had long black hair tucked behind her ears, she had thin gold-rimmed glasses perched on her nose. Yuuji also had no idea who she was. 

“Emiko-chan! You’re going to scare him off!” The one on the left scolded her. 

Emiko huffed, clutching at Yuuji’s arm and batting her eyelashes at him. “Chinami-chan and I have been wanting to hang out with you forever! You never come to Ito’s parties and we can never find you during school.” 

She was pouting in what she must’ve thought was a cute way, Yuuji couldn’t help but compare her to the little snot-nosed kids that would try to eat the flowers he used to buy for his gra— 

“Right. Sorry about that.” 

They somehow didn’t notice his bad mood and began to drag him to the basement. Yuuji didn’t even know Ito’s house had one. The girls pushed him onto the couch and snuggled into his sides again. They began to ramble about their week, going on and on about a particular teacher that had sprung a pop quiz earlier that day. 

Yuuji shifted, extremely uncomfortable with the amount of physical touch he was experiencing. While he was a naturally affectionate boy, and often very happy with physical touches, he did not know these two girls, Emiko and Chinami, very well (he didn’t know them at all). In fact, the only person he regularly had physical contact with had literally just died a couple of hours ago. 

Yuuji was about to make his excuses and leave when he felt a hand clap on his shoulder. A spike of annoyance ran up his spine.   

“Itadori! You sly bastard, you finally showed up!”

If Yuuji could he would slam his head into the floor right now. What was it with people expecting him to show up to stupid shitty parties all the time? Yuuji turned around to face the guy talking to him and the urge to slam his head onto the ground increased. 

Of course, it was motherfucking Furutani Takehito. The same asshole who’s been trying to get him to join the baseball team by any means. 

Internally screaming, Yuuji grinned at him. “Furutani! How are you?” 

The baseball captain threw himself next to Emiko, ignoring her indignant screech as he stretched his legs out. “Pretty good. If the team wins the next couple of games we’ll qualify for playoffs. Speaking of which, when’re you gonna join, eh?” 

Yuuji hoped that the gods above would strike him down where he sat. They did not, instead, they gathered around their pavilion and laughed at Itadori Yuuji. 

“Furutani, are you bothering Itadori-kun again? You know he won’t join like that.” 

Yuuji backtracked his cursing of the gods, mentally thanking them for creating Hamasaki Daisuke. The baseball vice-captain cuffed Furutani over the head, easily ignoring Furutani’s offended squawk. 

Hamasaki turned to Yuuji and half-bowed in apology. “I am so sorry for him. I looked away for a second and he was just gone.”  

Yuuji subtly shook off Chinami’s hold of his arm, sending the vice-captain a grateful look, sharing a fist bump with him. “It’s alright, he didn’t even get that far in trying to convince me. No harm done.” 

Emiko twisted around to face Hamasaki. “Are you gonna sit down or let Furutani hog Itadori-kun’s attention? He never comes to Ito’s parties! We need to convince him to come to more parties so we aren't bored all the time.” 

Hamasaki raised a brow. “You mean so you and Chinami can try and smother him with the perfume you stole from your mothers?” 

Furutani laughed at that and Chinami jumped in to defend her friend, jabbing him in his chest and shouting expletives at him. 

Seeing as Chinami had gotten up from her seat, Hamasaki sat down next to Yuuji and began to fill him in about the baseball team’s latest play that had won them the game. Normally Yuuji enjoyed listening to the boy talk about his sport; Hamasaki was a naturally charming boy who genuinely loved playing baseball and was always enthusiastic when he had a game day. He and Furutani often joined Yuuji during breaks to finish homework assignments that they would inevitably forget due to the long practices they would run. 

But the group of people in front of Yuuji suddenly seemed to be moving slower, he frowned, leaning forward to study them. Hamasaki waved a hand in front of Yuuji’s face, frowning and saying something. 

“What?” Yuuji said, his own voice echoing and sounding too loud, he frowned at Hamasaki, what was he saying? “What? What’s wrong?” 

“—gave him a brownie—” 

“—who the fuck would do tha—

“—greening out! What makes you thin—” 

“—go get Ito—”

Yuuji’s head spun, he was confused, the world was spinning too hard and the ground felt like wet sand. He needed to go home and clean up the house, his grandfather was getting discharged tomorrow wasn’t he? Right, he had been filling out forms for that earlier, before coming to Ito’s party, and he still had the papers in his backpack. 

Oh fuck, his backpack, where was it? He needed it. 

“My backpack.” Hamasaki’s face came to view, brows creased in the middle and a look of concern marred his features. Why is he worried?

Whatever, Yuuji thought, I need to check my backpack. “Get my backpack, I brought it with me.” 

Yuuji couldn't get the words to sound right, they sounded garbled and got stuck in his throat. He cleared his throat intending to try again, but Hamasaki seemed to understand right away because when he blinked, the vice-captain had his backpack in his hand. 

“This one is yours right?” He asked, holding it out for Yuuji to take. 

Talking was too exhausting to try again, so he just nodded his thanks and began to root around the bag. There, behind his red math notebook, the manilla folders stared up at him and distracted him with the lines following the length of the folders. 

Huh, he thought to himself, why are they breathing?  

It didn’t matter, Yuuji needed to go home, he left some dishes in the sink from earlier. He struggled to his feet, and instantly there were hands pushing him down and worried muffled noises reaching his ears. He looked at the hands pushing him down, tracing the hands to arms and then shoulders to a face. Or faces, Furutani and Hamasaki were holding him down by the shoulders, while Emiko and Chinami grabbed his hands. 

Growing frustrated with everyone holding him, he shook them off easily. Maybe a little too roughly, but he didn’t let himself feel bad, still too confused and dizzy to really understand why they were holding him back. Picking up his backpack and stumbling up the stairs, he waved off whatever Ito was saying to him. When had he gotten there anyway? 

“Itadori! Where the fuck are you going?” Hamasaki was yelling. He sounded worried. Why was everyone so worried? Yuuji wasn’t used to that kind of emotion from his peers, he didn’t know how to react to it. 

Oh, he could hear again. It sounded like he was underwater but it was better than not hearing anything at all. 

He should probably answer. “I’m going home, I didn’t like the party. Sorry.” 

“We’ll walk you home then.” 

We? 

“Yeah, me and Furutani. You go the same way as us sometimes, right?” 

Yuuji looked past Hamasaki, seeing Furutani walking towards them, putting a sweater on. He turned to Hamasaki, already intending to decline when Furutani threw a rough arm over his shoulder. 

“Alrighty, let’s get this show on the road yeah?” 

Yuuji sighed, wordlessly agreeing to let the two walk him home, trying to remember which street he was on. Tugging his sweater over his hands, he started off at a casual meandering pace. Only to yelp in surprise when Furutani began to sprint like the devil was after his soul. 

“Slow down! Slow down! Why’re you going so fast?” Yuuji cried, digging his heels into the ground.

Furutani looked at him with an incredulous look on his face. “Itadori, I’m not going fast?” 

“Yes! Yes, you are!” Yuuji turned to Hamasaki. “He was sprinting!” 

Hamasaki sighed, patting his shoulder. “No, Itadori-kun, your perception of the world right now is off.” 

“You two are acting real condescending to your senpai you know,” Yuuji huffed, brushing Hamasaki’s hand off his shoulder. 

Furutani stiffened, “What do you mean?” 

“Itadori-kun is a second-year.” Hamasaki turned to look at his friend curiously. “Didn’t you know?” 

“I’m also taking some third-year classes, accelerated learning and all,” Yuuji said mildly, neck craned up to stare at the sky. The stars were twinkling in morse code, they were calling him a little bitch. He looked back at Furutani, suddenly mystified (and totally not because if he kept looking at the stars he would end up trying to fight them), “Hey, that reminds me, if you two are only first-years, how are you captain and vice-captain?” 

“Oh well, we’re actually just in charge of the first-year group. So there’s the third-year real captain and then the second-year captain and then it's Furutani and me,” Hamasaki explained, ticking off the teams on his fingers. 

Yuuji hummed, he didn’t understand why the baseball team chose to work that way and he doesn’t want to know why. Then, he nearly tripped over a suddenly kneeling Furutani. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” He yelped, hands clutching his backpack straps in a vain hope to steady himself. 

“Senpai,” Furutani starts, voice gravely and serious. “Forgive me for pestering you carelessly, it was rude of me to annoy you at every turn when you were clearly unwilling to join the team, I now see the error of my ways and am ready to receive any punishment you see fit.” 

What the fuck. 

Hamasaki slapped him over the head. 

“Idiot!” He groused, “You mean to tell me that you bothered Itadori-kun for the better part of six months and never bothered to ask him what year he was in?” 

Furutani did not move from his kneeling position, sullenly he explained that he had seen Yuuji studying with a couple of first years at the beginning of the school year, and he had assumed that Itadori was a first-year student as well. 

Hamasaki sighed, hanging his head and turning to apologize to the second-year. Only to panic at the empty street. 

“Oh my god!” He whispered, head in his hands. “We lost Itadori Yuuji.” 

(Truth be told, Yuuji had merely wandered away while the pair were otherwise occupied, and when later asked, he would say nonchalantly. “Honestly, I can’t remember how I got home. I just blinked and I was in front of my door. I think I teleported, to be honest.” 

He would laugh and wave away any other question about that night. Hands reaching to rub at two curious scars just above his cheekbones, Itadori Yuuji would flawlessly change the subject and the matter would disappear from everyone’s mind.)

✻

Yuuji struggled with his keys, dropping them twice and putting in the wrong key almost five times. The ridges seemed to liquefy and change shape every two seconds. 

Click. Yuuji sighed in relief as the door finally opened. He swore he was getting judged by the alleycat that he would feed on occasion, he turned to make a face at it, just because he could. The cat meowed back. 

Stumbling into the dark living room, Yuuji turned the lights on and immediately regretted all his life choices as the bright fluorescent lights seared his sensitive eyes. Groaning, he blindly felt his way to the couch and collapsed head first onto the soft pillows, but only after slamming his forehead onto the wooden armrest and shouting out several swears. 

He stayed in that same position for a truly worrying amount, before abruptly sitting up and staring at the coffee table. 

“I’m hungry.” He announced to the empty room. His stomach growled as if to prove it to the carpet and table. 

Deciding to try his luck in the kitchen, he meandered over to the fridge and rooted around its contents. Coming up empty he turned to the pantry when something on the kitchen table caught his eye. Upon closer inspection Yuuji let out a quiet noise of surprise, it was the object Sasaki-san from the Occult Club had told him to pick up that morning. 

The president had approached him that morning and asked him to retrieve it for her. He had agreed easily, very aware as an active member of the club that both Iguchi-san and she were frightened by any suspicious thing or behavior after the sun had set. This was ironic considering that the three of them often went on night-time “expeditions” to find any occult activities. 

Yuuji sat down on the kitchen table, previously ravenous hunger forgotten in the face of the simple design of the box. Faded symbols were carved into the wood, archaic characters that were too small for Yuuji's woozy vision to discern, he traced the engravings with his fingers, briefly debating on what he should do with the box. Curiosity killed the cat, he thought with finality, he opened the box and stared at the contents, mystified. It looked vaguely like a finger if a finger was wrapped around yards of thin strips of paper with what seemed symbols inked into the paper. 

Yuuji stared at the probably mummified finger before shrugging and beginning to unwind the paper. 

“Curiosity killed the cat,” he murmured out loud, fingers making quick work of the near fabric-like quality of the paper. “But satisfaction brought it back, right? Right.” 

Staring at the purple-clawed finger he now held in his two hands, Yuuji thought about all the decisions he had made in his life that led him to this very moment. 

Eat it.

Why is his brain like this? 

“What the fuck. I’m not going to eat it.” He said aloud. Inspecting the finger some more, Yuuji blinked at the finger. The finger did not respond. He shrugged. “Well, why not.” 

Yuuij ate the finger. His face screwed up in disgust, his eyes rolled up into his head, and he passed out. 

✻

“Itadori! I was looking for you! Did you notice anything odd about the box I asked you to grab for me?”

Sasaki-san had found him in front of the vending machines mentally debating which snack to get after school let out. Yuuji had quit the club earlier that week, privately informing them of the death of his grandfather and his desire to focus on opening the bakery back up. They had expressed their sympathy and happily wished him the best. 

Yuuji hummed, leaning against the machine and looking up at the sky. “The box wasn’t very heavy, now that I think about it. But I didn’t think about it too much. Why? Was something wrong with it?” 

Sasaki-san puffed up her cheeks. “There was supposed to be some type of cursed object in the box, Iguchi-kun and I wanted to open it today with the new member to welcome them. But when I opened it to look at it, it was gone.” 

Yuuji closed his eyes and shot Sasaki-san an apologetic smile, half-bowing with a hand rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Sorry, Sasaki-san! I should’ve given it to you that morning!” 

"Liar." 

The girl smiled at him, open and trusting.

“It’s okay, Itadori!” She exclaimed, “Good luck with the bakery, and let us know when you’re open, okay? Me and Iguchi will be your first customers!” 

Itadori kept smiling at her, tasting wax in the back of his throat and feeling fire lick along his veins, Sukuna chuckling in the back of his mind. “Of course.” 

Sasaki-san patted his shoulder one last time before walking away. Yuuji watched her until she crossed a corner and turned back to the vending machine.

“Liar.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Chapter Text

“Oi, brat.” 

Yuuji sighed as yet another pencil snapped between his fingers. “Yes, Sukuna?” 

“Call me master, worthless child,” Sukuna snarled. 

“I’m not into that type of stuff, dude.” 

“This is why your grandfather died.” 

Yuuji swatted a rogue cursed spirit into the wall. It squealed as it died. “That doesn’t make any sense and you know it. Besides, you never met him.” 

“I saw him through your memories,” Sukuna retorted, sounding smug. 

That made Yuuji pause, he squinted unseeingly at the spot on the wall where the curse’s residue still had yet to fade. “That is... super creepy and invasive on so many levels, dude. What the fuck.” 

Sukuna laughed at his misery.

This has been Yuuji’s life for the past three months or so. 

The King of Curses had, for the first week, quietly observed Yuuji and his habits. Then, seemingly out of the blue, Sukuna began to speak to Yuuji. Though at first, it had been disturbing little comments, meant to catch him off guard in an obvious ploy to try and take control over his body, it slowly evolved into Sukuna demanding explanations of how things worked.

Yuuji suspected that Sukuna did not know what occurred after his death, or at least, not all of the changes. Not the technological advances or the globalization Japan went through. He, instead, seemed aware of the more catastrophic events due to the immense emotions that often came with them. 

“Natural disasters often come with a wave of negative emotions and turbulent actions. It would rouse my energy, not enough to become whole, mind you, but enough that I am aware of what has happened. Like that tsunami a couple of years back, it was massive, wasn’t it? It kept me aware for months.” He had said. 

Yuuji called bullshit and told him so. The curse had snarled and given him nightmares for two weeks. 

“Did you actually need something or do you just like the sound of your own voice?” Yuuji asked tiredly, rooting around his side drawers for a new pencil. 

“You don’t have any friends. Why?”  

Yuuji blinked. “Why?” 

Sukuna sighed impatiently, “Yes, child, why don't you have any friends? Are you so stupid that you do not grasp the concept of friends?” 

Yuuji frowned, mildly offended at that. “I do have friends, asshole. Remember Nanami-san?” 

(Yuuji had met Nanami Kento about three weeks ago when he had finally found enough time to take the train to Tokyo and talk to the personal lawyers and accountants that were contracted under his family name about finally reopening the bakery. He had run into Nanami-san, quite literally, just as he was walking out of the lawyer's office after a long and exhausting meeting with the legal team. 

The blond man would have nearly spilled his coffee on Yuuji’s only dress shirt if not for Yuuji’s instinctual smack, slamming the cup into the ground. They had stared at the cup between them for what seemed to be an eternity, at least to Yuuji. Hesitantly, Yuuji murmured his apologies and offered to buy the man a new one. The man sighed and waved off his concern. 

“No, it would reflect quite badly on me if I were to allow a child to pay for my drink.” He had said. Yuuji frowned, feeling just the slightest bit guilty about inconveniencing this obviously tired guy, and also offended at being referred to as a child. 

“Well, at least let me give you my business card, my bakery should re-open in a couple of months so feel free to look for At World’s End bakery here in Tokyo,” Yuuji said, handing the man a card. He had mentally wiggled in glee at the very act of handing someone his business card. 

The man paused, holding the card with a strange look on his face. “How old are you exactly?” 

“I’m seventeen, sir,” Yuuji replied dutifully. He stared curiously at the man’s face. Was it strange for a teenager to have a business card? Yuuji didn’t know. Maybe it was, considering how intensely the man was staring at his card, maybe he should change the font and design. 

“Your guardians are aware of this?” 

Yuuji hesitated, before answering, quieter than before, “My grandfather arranged for me to take over the bakery upon his death.”  

The man must’ve noted his shift in mood, because he looked up again, looking vaguely uncomfortable. “...I see, my condolences. I am Nanami Kento.” 

Yuuji stared at the man, Nanami, for a couple of seconds before it clicked that he must be waiting for Yuuji to introduce himself as well.

“Oh! Right, I’m Itadori Yuuji. Nice to meet you,” Yuuji said, bowing shallowly at Nanami. The man had watched him bow with a bemused air around him. They had exchanged numbers that day and Nanami wished him luck at his bakery.) 

The curse scoffed. “The furthest I would call you two is acquaintances, and that’s only because he’s interested in your stupid bakery store.” 

“Oi,” Yuuji said warningly, brow furrowing. He felt Sukuna’s flash of smug victory crawl up his throat once the curse realized he had actually gotten him annoyed. Yuuji sighed softly, letting the remark slide in favor of asking another question. “Do you have friends, then?” 

“Of course not. I have no need for them.” Came the immediate disdainful reply. 

Yuuji looked at the ceiling, letting out another sigh, one that came from his gut. Sukuna mentally jabbed him. 

“Answer me. Why don’t you have any friends?” 

“Does Nanami-san not count?” It was a weak argument and they both knew it. 

“Brat, why do you not have any friends?” Sukuna truly had a way of speaking that made any question sound like a demand. 

Defeated, Yuuji dropped his head onto the desk. Quietly, he said, “I’ve never been good at connecting with people my age. When I was younger I used to get bullied for having pink hair. So I dyed it, and then I would get teased for being an orphan, so my grandpa switched me to homeschooling. I got better at socializing but I never connected with anyone so now I just let it be.” 

Sukuna stayed quiet long enough that Yuuji assumed the interrogation was over. He picked his head up again and started working on his homework, he was able to get through three pages before Sukuna finally spoke again. 

“I planned on killing those close to you when I take control over your body.” 

There was dead silence for thirty seconds. Yuuji heaved another heavy bone-tired sigh, sparing half a glance at yet another curse that had crawled into his room before slashing it in half. “Please shut the fuck up.” 

Sukuna cackled. 

✻

“What the fuck is up with you and trying to make me waste money, dude?” Yuuji groaned. Sukuna grumbled, the familiar itchy feeling indicating that the curse had once again ripped open his cheek to speak out loud. 

“Did your grandfather leave you with a pitiful inheritance? Why do you insist on dressing like a child?” Sukuna sounded downright offended. 

Yuuji didn’t understand Sukuna’s fascination with his money. He had let it slip after Sukuna demanded an explanation when he had seen a vase he recognized from back when he was still whole and Yuuji explained to the curse that his grandfather enjoyed buying old vases for the shit and giggles. 

He leaned back on his couch, laptop opened on some luxury site Sukuna demanded he start on. The prices of the shirts didn’t go below ￥31,000. He stared at one shirt, in particular, it had a bull imprinted on the back. It was single-handedly the ugliest possible way for a company to brand its clothing.

“That shirt is the ugliest I’ve ever seen and I don’t want to waste money on it.” He announced. 

It’s not like Yuuji couldn’t afford it. In truth, with the money left in his family bank account, Yuuji could probably buy all of the luxury brands he had combed through and still have enough to live comfortably for two lifetimes. 

Whatever his parents did must have been incredibly successful and worth millions, though it was pocket change according to Yuuji’s grandfather. According to his grandpa, the Itadori line was a clan first, an incredibly wealthy one. They had deliberately faded into the background so as to not attract any serious enemies but kept their immense wealth and land.  

(Itadori Wasuke whispered this to a little Yuuji, who had barely come up to his waist and was frustrated about all the stupid, stuffy classes he had to take. Why did he have to take classes about his posture and how he wrote? Why did any of that even matter?

Little Itadori Yuuji with his cheeks puffed out, stomped his feet, gazing at his grandfather with indignant eyes and furrowed brows. His grandfather had laughed, lifting the little boy onto strong shoulders and whispering of a small, mighty clan. Of warriors that danced with the sun and the moon alike, of men and women who laughed in the face of adversaries and spat in the face of fate. 

He spoke of people who had fire in their blood and metal in their hands, of wars won and trophies mounted. Of honor never once lost and how victories were assured when they stepped onto the battlefield. He whispered of how they revered elegance and might, how they treasured intelligence and endurance, and most of all, how they adored trickery. 

Here, honest little Yuuji, with his heart on his sleeve and his mind an open book, gasped. Was trickery not bad? Was that not what the youkai did? 

And Wasuke smiled, and explained: How do you balance elegance and might? How do you dance with the light and the dark? How do you survive for so long with nary a glance at you and your family? You accept the gifts and rewards with carefully fashioned ill-grace and pretend to all endurance and no elegance to survive. Monsters and demons fall even to trickery, it is true. 

And little, honest Yuuji learned. Of elegance and trickery, he learned; of might and intelligence, he understood. And little Yuuji began to play tricks as well, like the clan of old. Like many before him.) 

“—wouldn’t know decent clothing if it hit you in the face with a boulder the size of a small island you incompetent fool. I wish for nothing more than to overtake your body and tear your heart out. How dare you—”

Oh look, Sukuna was still talking, alrighty. Well, more like ranting, but Yuuji is glad he’s getting out what he needs to. Silently, he switched over to the other website he had pulled up (luxury, upon Sukuna’s whining demand) and chose some running shoes and boots. 

“Get the winter coat we saw as well. The long black one.” It seems like Sukuna was done with his temper tantrum. 

“Why do you wanna dress me in all black? What if I wanted to wear something colorful, huh?” Yuuji challenged. 

Sukuna scoffed, “Black makes that monstrosity of a color on your head stand out.” 

“Sukuna, we have the same colored hair. You’re basically insulting yourself here, dude.” Yuuji replied, amused. 

Sukuna didn’t respond but when Yuuji felt his disgruntlement, he smiled in delight at having won an argument with the curse, however small. He bought the jacket as well and threw in some dress shirts. He made a soft noise at the total sum, which was more than he’s ever bought in a single sitting. He felt Sukuna perk up and knew the curse would have something to say about it. 

“How much is that? ” 

After three months of coexisting with Sukuna, Yuuji had finally gotten used to hearing him speak in their shared mental space. However, he still had trouble distinguishing verbal conversations from mental ones, resulting in some strange looks when they were in public. 

Yuuji hummed, trying to find the closest comparison. “About enough to buy a good horse.” 

“What do you know about a good horse?” Sukuna snarked, ripping open his cheek again. 

“Considering I had one when I was younger, I’d like to think I know a good horse pretty well, thank you very fucking much,” Yuuji shot back. 

From the corner of his eye reflected on the hallway mirror, he spied Sukuna’s eye open on his cheek, gazing upon him. “Show me.” 

Yuuji sighed. “Let me pay first.” 

Sukuna snarled. “Hurry up then, brat!”

✻

“Use your eyes you fool.” 

“I am! I'm looking!” Yuuji hissed, exasperated and annoyed at himself for letting Sukuna wheedle him into coming here. 

“Exactly, you are looking, not seeing. You must direct your energy to your eyes, focus your sight and you will see. That pathetic child of a curse cannot be on my territory any longer.” 

“You can tell the age of the cursed spirit? Also, this isn’t your territory, what the fuck is wrong with you.” Yuuji stopped in the middle of the street, puzzled at Sukuna’s ability to be able to tell age off a scent, only remembering to duck into an alleyway after Sukuna hissed at him to move away from the main street. 

The curse scoffed, ignoring the second part of his statement. “Of course, I can tell the age of all curses. I am the King of Curses, or have you forgotten that? Because I assure you I can very easily remind you of that fact."  

Yuuji snorted. “No thank you. Where is this cursed spirit anyway?” 

“Look for it.”  

Yuuji groaned, slipping past the yellow tape surrounding the movie theater and walking past Nanami-san in the hallway. He idly noted that the man had his back turned to him, which made his task of sneaking past him easy, somehow Yuuji knew that not much got past this man. 

… 

… 

WAIT. 

Yuuji stopped in his tracks, spinning around to stare at the blond man. Inside his head, Sukuna snarled, startled and wrathful. 

“Brat! Go turn the corner!” 

Yuuji didn’t question him, he threw himself around the corner and slid down the wall, barely daring to breathe as he peaked around the corner to try and discern exactly what Nanami-san was doing here. Meanwhile, Sukuna had descended into cursing in archaic terms, spitting swears and most likely cursing the entire world to damnation. 

Yuuji peaked around the corner, Nanami-san was still staring at a spot on the wall. Yuuji looked at where he was staring and saw a little trace of something. Is that the curse’s trail? 

“He finally fucking sees it! Congratulations, brat, you have managed to spot a curse’s residue. The most basic of skills a person can have.”  

Yuuji furrowed his brow. “Wait but then how have I been seeing all the other curses that come into the house…?”

Sukuna was radiating smugness, he probably did something, didn’t he? That sadistic asshole. 

“I can hear your thoughts brat,” Sukuna’s mouth appeared on the back of his hand, sharp white teeth baring menacingly at him. 

“Good!” Yuuji snarled back. “Tell me what you did.” 

“I’ve been channeling my energy to your eyes so you can easily pick them out, soon you will learn to do this at will. I’ve also been calling all those curses by spiking my energy to condition you into instinctively culling weak curses. Not enough so that sorcerers will be alerted by my presence and come to exorcise us, mind you—”

Exorcise? What the fuck????

“What the fuck is a sorcerer and why do they not need to be alerted by you!?” Yuuji cut off Sukuna’s smug explanation with a panicked hiss, keeping an eye on Nanami-san, diving back some meters when the man turned his head to the side. 

There was a strange feeling from Sukuna that was slowly emerging, had Sukuna meant to tell him something important? Moreover, had the whole King of Curses thing not been metaphorical? Yuuji knew, intellectually, that eating an old rotten finger and having a being call himself a curse living inside your head wasn’t a normal thing, but he didn’t think it would be dangerous. 

Just what the fuck had Yuuji consumed that night? 

“I will tell you when you go to the roof, that is where the cursed spirit’s trail leads. You will look for it and exorcise it.” Sukuna had retreated to his mind, carefully concealing his energy, lest Nanami find them out. 

What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck —

Yuuji took a deep breath, “Okay, yeah. I'll do that, piece of fucking cake right? Right.” 

✻

When Nanami Kento woke up that morning, he did not expect to see a boy he had met a couple of weeks ago lying on the roof of the movie theater he had been investigating due to suspicious behavior, but such was the life of an adult. Life throws curve balls and it was up to oneself to either catch them or let themselves be swept away. This situation in front of him was one such example. 

“...Itadori-kun?” He called out cautiously, coming to a stop before the boy, that was the boy’s name, right? Yes, he remembered that pink-haired teenager and had introduced himself as such, some weeks ago.  Seeing as there was no response, Nanami took the boy’s closed eyes as an opportunity to observe him. 

There were curious marks just below his eyelids, most likely scars from his early childhood. He was sweaty and lying eagle spread on the ground, breathing deeply, and had some scruffs on the knees of his jeans and minor rips along the sleeves of his hoodie. There were barely visible eye bags under his eyes and he looked a little pale. 

 Nanami frowned, recalling that Itadori had mentioned his grandfather's passing and subsequent inheritance of a bakery. It seemed like a lot for a boy of his age, Nanami looked at Itadori again and noted there was still baby fat clinging to his cheeks. Noted that his hair was dual-colored, noted that despite the eyebags and pale tint to the skin, Itadori still seemed to exude a cheerful air. 

(For a second, Nanami saw another boy, this one with darker hair and walking a different path in life, this one with the same air around him, this one in the past, this one he could not save, but—

How strange, Nanami did not expect to be reminded of his own youth today.)

Right then and there he quietly resolved to take the boy under his wing. 

Well, he amended, thinking of his sorcerer status, I shall help him for as long I can.  

“Itadori-kun.” He called out again, “Itadori-kun, time to wake up.” 

Before the boy finished rousing Nanami slipped his blunt sword back into its holster. He had just finished readjusting his jacket when Itadori had finally sat up. Then the boy looked up, and for a second, Nanami saw his soul reflected in the boy’s eyes. 

“Nanamin?” 

… Nanami was going to slap this child. 

✻

“You were practicing parkour?” Nanami asked, nursing a black coffee in a ceramic mug and watching Itadori throw together some ingredients for his requested croissant. 

After the boy had woken up, Nanami had asked if the boy knew a place to have a conversation and Itadori had volunteered his bakery. Nanami followed the boy out of curiosity and realized that the bakery was on the way to Tokyo Jujutsu High. He approved of the advantageous placement, though logically he knew that it was completely by coincidence, this ease in being able to reach him should Itadori ever be in trouble would likely lower the chances of the boy being gravely injured. 

“Um, yeah!” Itadori was kneading the dough with easy well-practiced hands, stretching and layering them down as he spoke, eyes never straying from his task. For his age, he was surprisingly talented. “I like to run around my house and it’s really easy ‘cause the estate is stupid big. But here in Tokyo, there’s almost no space for it so when I’m here, I generally stick to rooftops.” 

Nanami’s hands tightened around the mug. “You don’t live here in Tokyo?” 

Itadori shook his head. “No, I used to, but my and my grandpa moved back to Sendai for his treatment. I'll have to move back here and either rent an apartment or buy a house. Or I’ll just convert the upstairs storage space into an apartment.” 

The boy paused, tilting his head to the side as if a thought had just occurred to him. He nodded to himself and turned to Nanami. “Yeah, I’ll move back here and buy a house. Do you know anyone who works in real estate?” 

Nanami did not. 

“I’ll call an associate.” 

Itadori smiled at Nanami in gratitude, he turned back to the dough, then wrapped it one more time and stuck it in the freezer. He walked towards the cupboard and pulled out a pre-made croissant and presented it to Nanami with a sheepish smile. 

“The croissants are gonna have to chill for four hours, so feel free to drop by tomorrow to pick them up! Officially, I won’t open up until October but you can take this as like, a token of my appreciation, that makes sense right?” Itadori grinned up at him so hopefully Nanami couldn’t take this away from him. He was still a child after all. 

“Very well, I shall come by tomorrow for the croissants.” 

✻

Yuuji was startled awake by Sukuna’s snarl. In the time they’ve been together, Sukuna has not been shy to show his displeasure with Yuuji by snarling, so he liked to think that he knows Sukuna’s different types of snarls pretty well. There was the “this fucking idiot is annoying me” snarl, the “I lost an argument but I want the last word” snarl, the wordless snarl, the “I’m confused and mad about it” snarl, and countless others, but Yuuji has never heard this specific snarl.

This noise seemed to erupt from Sukuna’s gut, furious like Yuuji had never seen or felt him. It rang against his ears and made the hair on his neck stand up. 

Then he saw it. 

Up until now, all the curses Yuuji has encountered are grotesque little creatures that he could easily overlook because of how quickly he would get rid of them. The thing in front of him was not comparable to those. 

Its proportions were decidedly inhuman, the limbs curving in ways that were unnatural with eyes that bulged out of sockets, there was a feeling of despair and heavy fear invading Yuuji’s room. 

This is a cursed spirit. 

He had a scream lodged in his throat that erupted when the curse lunged at him. He threw himself off his bed and scrambled across the room, looking for an escape route. There. 

“Brat. Whatever you're thinking, stop it.”  

“I am going to do something very stupid. Please excuse me.” With that, Yuuji slammed open his window and jumped out. 

Sukuna spit out the archaic swears he was so fond of before ripping open his hand. “Why are you running? Fight it!” 

Yuuji ran past the orchid trees and winced at the sound of wood snapping and cracking, there went the fence. 

“How!? I don’t know how to do that!” Yuuji yelped as he swerved to the right and slipped into the barn where his old horse used to sleep. He slammed his shoulder on the doorway and hissed, suddenly realizing that he didn’t put a shirt on before going to sleep. 

Sukuna’s mouth sneered. “What are you? Catholic?” 

Yuuji had never heard of anyone using that as an insult. It was enough to momentarily startle him into stopping. But Sukuna's mental shove had him moving again. 

“You don’t even know what that is!” Yuuji’s voice went shrill at the end. He clamped his hands over his mouth, realizing that the cure could probably hear him. 

His heart was pounding and his blood rushed to his ears. The night breeze came in through the big window, and Yuuji shivered as the sweat running down his spine cooled down. This was not how he imagined his night going; and he'd been having such a nice dream, too. 

The other curse’s aura seemed to pause, and Yuuji turned his attention to that, hardly breathing as it seemed to hover in one spot. Then it changed direction and Yuuji lost track of it. He didn’t dare move from his spot, staying immobile for what seemed to be hours. 

Suddenly it appeared in front of Yuuji, and he shrieked. There was energy welling up in his body, concentrating on his arm. He let his fist fly with a shout, heart in his throat and fear clogging his veins, turning his vision crystal clear. He saw his fist move in slow motion, could count every muscle and the way they contracted to—

It connected to the curse’s face, causing it to fly back with a crash. He stood there, back to the wooden wall, panting and still trembling. Yuuji didn’t dare move until he couldn't sense its energy, only when thirty seconds seemed to pass did he let out a breath of relief. 

Then— 

Yuuji slowly turned to look at the hand sticking out of his chest, bloodied and holding an organ in its hand. There was a loud ringing in his ears, everything else seemed fuzzy around the edges. 

He stumbled forward, collapsing onto his knees as he felt around his chest. 

Hey, Yuuji thought numbly, it’s like that one alien movie. 

There was something in his throat, it was itchy. He coughed to let it out, reaching up with a hand to cover his mouth. Pulling his hand back from his mouth he frowned dazedly. 

Why was his hand bloody? 

“Brat! Brat! Switch with me! You’ll die and I will have to face the embarrassment of dying with you and who knows when the next time I’ll be incarnated shall come. Let go, let me take care of this.”

Why did Sukuna sound worried? Isn’t this what he wanted, for Yuuji to die so that Sukuna may take over?

“Hey, Sukuna,” he whispered, there was blood pouring out of the hole in his chest now. The pain was starting to creep in, and Yuuji knew he wouldn’t live to see the sunset. “You don’t have to lie. When I die, you’ll just inhabit this body, that’s alright. Do what you must, O’ King of Curses.” 

Sorry gramps, guess I let you down. 

Yuuji let go. He let go of the iron-clad grip he had on his emotions and himself, and the pain, fear, and anger that he pushed and shoved down came pouring out like the blood on his chest. His body jerked instinctively, but he’d long since learned how to relax his muscles and be as pliant as hot melted chocolate. 

Sukuna stayed quiet for so a long moment before malicious energy flooded Yuuji’s system. It burned like nothing Yuuji had ever felt, he let out a scream that would surely have worried his neighbors if they weren’t half blind and just as deaf. Under the cover of his pained screams, he heard Sukuna laugh. Yuuji thought it sounded forced. 

There were black spots dancing around his eyes, he was drifting in and out of consciousness, why wasn’t Sukuna surfacing yet? Or maybe he did and this was the in-between? 

No, Yuuji thought, I’m still in pain, I wouldn’t be in pain if I was dead. 

He was about to close his eyes and sleep forever when he felt hands, so cold they burned, brushing his hair away from his face, the hands were followed by a pair of lips that pressed against his temple. They were cold too. 

“Yuuji.” 

He recognized that voice. Where had he heard it from? 

“Yuuji!” 

He knew that voice too! 

Both of them, a man and a woman. Another pair of hands joined the first pair, these equally as cold as the others. They whispered to him, far away and nearly unheard. Caressing him like—

Then he remembered. 

✻

“Wow, grandpa! Your hands are really warm!” 

Four-year-old Itadori Yuuji stared up at his grandfather in awe, tiny hands holding onto his grandfather’s single hand in childish reverence. Wasuke chuckled fondly, using his free hand to ruffle his grandson’s pink locks affectionately. 

“Yours are warm as well, Yuuji. It seems we are the anomaly in this family.” He said. 

Yuuji’s nose wrinkled in confusion. “What’s an-monal-ly, grandpa?” 

Despite Yuuji’s careful pronunciation, his young mouth couldn't quite wrap around the strange word. 

“Anomaly,” Wasuke said again. “It means different from the standard. It means we’re different from the usual cold hands that our family is known for.” 

“Oh,“ Yuuji seemed to be thinking very hard about something. His brow furrowed and he jutted out his lip, before looking at his grandfather with the pure innocence that only very young children are capable of. “Is it a good different?” 

Wasuke smiled. “Yes, it is a good difference. It means we get to stay here in the bakery while the rest of them go out and do the boring, messy work.” 

“Who’s 'them', gramps?” Yuuji asked, beginning to fiddle with his grandfather's fingers. 

Wasuke indulged his grandson, wiggling his fingers and pinching Yuuji’s fingers. “The rest of our family. Your parents, when they were alive, had very cold hands. The coldest hands I’d ever touched.” 

Yuuji wrinkled his nose again, pausing their game and looking up at his grandfather. 

“Cold hands suck gramps,” He announced. 

Wasuke laughed at his statement, flicking his forehead with warm fingers. Yuuji grinned proudly at making his grandfather laugh. 

✻

Yuuji shot up with a gasp, heart pounding and his grandfather’s laugh still echoing in his ears. There were tears in his eyes and he hurried to wipe them off. 

“Finally awake?” 

Yuuji turned to look at Sukuna, who was reclining on his bony throne, seemingly bored out of his mind. 

“I thought I died..?” Yuuji was lost. He was sure his heart had been ripped out and he had lost a massive amount of blood. 

“You did. I healed you.” Sukuna’s words were clipped and short. Yuuji winced, shifting to hug his knees, reaching out and fiddling with a nearby skull. The horns were particularly sharp. He tapped his nail against the bone, the sharp point leaving little indents on the fragile surface. 

Wait. 

Sharp!? 

“Ah, you noticed?” Yuuji looked up at Sukuna, who had begun to climb down from his throne, all grace and poise. He came to a stop before Yuuji, hands hidden in his sleeves, face unreadable. He nodded towards Yuuji’s hands. “I used my reverse cursed technique to grow back your heart and fix everything else. Though it did have the unforeseen outcome of that, I’m sure you will be able to retract them as well.” 

“And— and the curse? What happened to it?” Yuuji tried to retract his nails and blinked at the new color they seemed to have permanently changed to. His now blunt nails were dark purple. 

Sukuna kicked him lightly on the thigh, scowling. “Pay attention, brat. I killed it after taking control of your body, then I healed your body. The cursed spirit had one of my fingers. Now, we must make a Binding Vow.” 

“Wait, wait, wait. Pause,” Yuuji said. He would very much like a thorough explanation. “What do you mean another finger?” 

Sukuna sighed as if it was an inconvenience to explain it all to his vessel. “Humans. When I died, sorcerers, like your Nanamin, tried to destroy my body. They couldn’t because they were strong enough to.”

“Then how did they kill you?” Yuuji asked. Sukuna glowered at him, smacking him over the head. 

“Shut up and listen. They used a modified version of the prison realm to subdue me, before cutting off my head and exorcising me. After which they decided to cut off my fingers in an attempt to prevent me from reincarnating.” Here he grinned maliciously. “Which obviously didn’t work. Because with you here, I am well on my way to being able to revert back to my true power.” 

Whatever Sukuna was expecting, it clearly wasn’t Yuuji staring at him blankly. 

“What is it now?” Sukuna demanded.

“You might be the strongest curse ever made. But you’re also stuck with me, and I have things to do. Things that do not include taking over the world or whatever the fuck you’re going on about,” Yuuji stated, staring Sukuna right in the eye. 

The curse began to laugh incredulously. He grabbed Yuuji by the throat and lifted him in the air, grinning cruelly at the startled yelp the pink-haired boy let out. 

“You are not in any position to make demands, vessel,” He snarled. 

Yuuji bared his teeth back, nails digging into his wrist. “Who else is capable of being able to withstand you? This is a lose-lose situation for both of us.” 

Sukuna roared in anger, slamming Yuuji into the ground and stalking back to his throne. Throwing himself into his seat, he watched as Yuuji picked himself up and glared back at him. 

“You know I’m right!” He shouted.

Sukuna sneered, sending a wave of pure cursed energy toward Yuuji. His eyes widened and he threw himself to one side. He ran towards Sukuna, grabbing a skull on the way up and launching it towards the curse’s face. Rolling his eyes, Sukuna batted it away, only to frown suspiciously when he lost sight of his vessel. 

Crack!  

Sukuna’s head was pushed to the side, by the force of Yuuji’s kick. He blinked, stunned. 

The brat used the skull as a diversion to jump and kick me. He thought, reluctantly impressed. 

Sukuna decided to indulge in a physical spar, it had been a long time since he had indulged in such. The pair fought, and in the end, Yuuji stood trembling in exertion whilst Sukuna stared down at him, looking remarkably unruffled. Yuuji snarled and lunged forward again. 

“Enough,” Sukuna decided, catching Yuuji’s other ankle as the boy prepared another kick. “Let’s make a deal."

Yuuji shifted his weight onto his free foot, the muscles in his captive leg tensing and contracting as he tried the other's hold. "What do you want?" He snapped irritatedly.

Sukuna sneered back, his grip tightening mercilessly. "When I say ‘Enchain’ I take control of the body for one minute, harming no one, and you forget about this vow, yes?” 

Yuuji slashed at Sukuna’s wrist, snarling wordlessly at him. The curse let go of his ankle and the teenager threw himself back several paces and landed at a crouch. Sukuna raised a brow, it seems the boy has taken some of his more animalistic traits as well as metamorphosis abilities. 

“Like hell, I’m agreeing to that,” The boy spat, before falling silent and nursing his ankle, no doubt bruised by Sukuna’s unforgiving hold. He spoke again after several minutes of thinking, slow and tense. “Ten minutes of full control over my body, with that phrase, ‘Enchain’, but no one is killed by your hand unless we both deem them dangerous and I agree to their death on my own will and I remember this pact. And you make it clear who has control over my body.” 

This time, both of his eyebrows were raised, and Sukuna mulled over the new offer. He could do a lot of things in ten minutes, although that specific clause of killing anyone would be tricky. It seemed his vessel was more observant than he had thought. 

“So be it,” Sukuna agreed, feeling the Binding Vow sink into the marrow of his bones and bind into his cursed energy. By the startled glance the boy gave him, he had felt it as well. “Now leave, I tire of your presence here.” 

Yuuji frowned, “How? Do I just wake up?” 

Sukuna sighed, “Yes, vessel, just wake up.” 

The boy frowned, “My name is Itadori Yuuji. I told you when we first met.” 

The curse waved him off. “Leave. Or I call off the Vow and kill you right now.” 

“Alright, alright.” Already the boy was fading out, it seemed he learned quickly.

That was good. 

✻

Letting out a groan, Yuuji rolled over on his back, wincing as he lay on the dirt. He thought back on the conversation he had with Sukuna and everything else that had happened. 

“What now?” He murmured, stretching one hand out and inspecting his hands. It seems his nails were permanently stained purple, with a bit of concentration they grew into the sharp points he had. That was kinda cool if Yuuji was being completely honest with himself. 

“You shall help me find the rest of my fingers.” 

“Jesus, fuck!” Yuuji yelped, hands clenching and nails cutting into his own palm, hissing at the pinpricks of pain that shot through his already abused nerve endings. Sukuna snorted and Yuuji grumbled at him to shut up. "Why should I help you, anyway? What's in it for me?"

"You would die if we are found by sorcerers," Sukuna said grudgingly. "I am not at full strength without all twenty of my fingers. Because I am the King of Curses it is an automatic execution for me and whatever vessel is hosting me." 

A strange feeling of anger and frustration swept over Yuuji, these were Sukuna's sentiments no doubt. If he was to be believed then Yuuji's livelihood would be in danger and his bakery would have to be put on pause. He sighed. 

"Will I have to put my bakery on pause?" He asked, fearing the answer. 

Sukuna hummed. "No, I do not think so. I will teach you how to keep my cursed energy hidden, and I will be able to sense my fingers in due time. I do not wish to go on a hunt for them and tell the world I am back whilst I am not at full strength." 

“I guess that’s fair." Yuuji thought, still staring at the old rotting ceiling. A snort came from inside his mind and he sighed again; Sukuna inhabited his mind, he had forgotten, and thus knew his thoughts just as well. 

"So how long have I been out, anyway?” Yuuji asked, finally standing up and stretching, he scratched off flakes of dried blood from his chest and frowned at the unpleasant feeling of having muck under his nails. He absently began to clean up the mess, carrying the broken fence into the pile of burnable wood he kept stored in the barn, frowning at the stains of curse blood on the walls. He guessed Sukuna had some pent-up frustration. 

“Three days,” Sukuna replied nonchalantly. 

Yuuji froze. Three days?

Three days!? 

Ohh, he fucked up.

Oh, he fucked up, he seriously fucked up.  

Ohhhh, fucknuggets. He broke out into a sprint, ignoring Sukuna’s confused demands to explain his sudden panic. 

Climbing through the very window he had hopped out of three fucking days ago, what the shit, he only spared a glance at the mess he had left in his room before rooting around for his phone. 

The time spent powering on was a lifetime and a half. Then the phone just had to be on low battery. 

“Why are you on low battery?!” He shrieked at it. “I left you charging before I went to bed!” 

Letting out several swears, he plugged it in and sat against the wall, reading the messages from the one person he had promised baked goods from. 

nanamin :3: Itadori-kun, I am outside. 

nanamin :3: Itadori-kun? 

nanamin :3: Are you awake?

nanamin :3: Are you hurt?

nanamin :3: 27 missed calls

Ohhhhhhhh, he majorly fucked up. 

“Oh my god.” Yuuji breathed out. “Oh, my fucking shit. Oh god, okay— Fuck, okay, uh, I’ll— I’ll just call him. Right? Yeah, yeah, I’ll call him and explain that I passed out. Yeah, yeah that works. Fuck, okay, okay.” 

Sukuna snorted. “The sorcerer probably thinks you’re dead, brat. Better hurry up before he storms this place.” 

Yuuji screamed inside his mouth. “Oh my fuck, shut up. He doesn't know where I live. And besides, aren’t I technically a sorcerer?” 

Sukuna made a disgusted noise. “No, you are my vessel.” 

“I’m also probably a sorcerer now.” 

“Don’t say stupid things, you’re my vessel.” 

“Sukuna, what’s a sorcerer?” 

“Someone who can use jujutsu.” 

“Right, and I can use jujutsu right?” Yuuji waited for Sukuna’s affirmation, meanwhile pressing the call icon on Nanamin’s number. His hands were definitely not shaking. 

“In time, yes.” 

“So then, I’m a sorcerer.” 

“No, you’re my vessel.” 

“Sukuna, you stubborn bastard, these two things can go hand in—”

“Itadori-kun?” 

Oh, fuck. Oh god, okay. Alright, fucking shit.

“Um, hi Nanamin. Sorry for not calling, I was, uh, unconscious?” Yuuji buried his face in one hand, mentally smacking himself for phrasing it like that. Sukuna, meanwhile, had retreated into their mind and snickered in their mind. 

“What exactly were you doing to warrant unconsciousness for three days?” Nanamin asked stoically. 

“...Parkour..?” Yuuji said hesitantly. 

You fucking catholic, Sukuna whispered. 

You don’t know what that fucking means! Yuuji hissed back. 

“Parkour?” Nanamin repeated, sounding dubious. 

“Yes,” Yuuji nodded, then realized that Nanamin couldn’t see him. “Parkour, I slipped off my roof and hit my head on some rocks.” 

“You have rocks around your house? ” Nanamin asked. 

“Yeah!” Yuuji replied, confused. Who didn’t? “They’re used for decoration, 'round the gardens.” 

There were voices in the background on Nanamin’s side of the call, he responded to their questioning tone, before turning back to the call. 

“Itadori-kin, I must cut the call, I’m in the middle of work and am needed in a hands-on assignment. I shall call you later, yes?” 

Yuuji made an affirming noise, having caught sight of himself in the mirror and deciding to take a shower and clean up the mess he had left. 

“Okay, talk to you later Nanamin.” 

After Nanamin disconnected the call, Yuuji stood up and began to gather his bedsheets and clothes to throw him into the washing machine. Sukuna’s mouth appeared on his hand once Yuuji entered the laundry room. 

“Take a bath, brat. You stink and have dried blood all over you.” 

Yuuji sighed. ”And whose fault is that? I will after I finish putting these into the washing machine.” 

Sukuna’s mouth twisted. “Why don’t you just get a servant to do that for you? I had many to tend to these miscellaneous duties.” 

“What am I? Useless?” Yuuji protested, “Besides, hiring a housekeeper would include needing to have someone in my space. I don’t want that.” 

Sukuna hummed, contemplative. “Yes, that makes sense, it would be dangerous now. With your status as my vessel.” 

Yuuji made a face. “Sure.” 

He made his way back to his bedroom bathroom, stopping by his dresser to grab some boxers and a single towel. Which Sukuna was horrified by. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Only one?” He snapped. Yuuji was confused.

“I mean, yeah?” He said. “Why? What’s wrong?” 

Sukuna groaned, and no amount of nagging would make him respond. Yuuji pouted childishly, testing the water's temperature before finally stepping into the shower to scrub off three-day-old blood. 

Ew. 

Yuuji had only spent fifteen minutes in the shower before he heard his phone ringing again. Swearing, he turned off the water and towel-dried himself. Leaping onto his bed to catch his phone and answer it before it stopped ringing. 

He answered without checking the name screen. “Hello?” 

“Ah, there he is. Hello, Itadori-kun?” 

Why was his neighbor calling him? “Yes, Tanaka-san? Is everything alright?” 

“Oh well, see, there are some men here who would like access to your gardens and the land surrounding them. Ah, something about suspicious behavior in the last couple of days?” 

Well, fuck. “Alright, Tanaka-san. Send them over, I’ll greet them at the door.” 

The old man agreed and Yuuji hurried to dress, mentally thanking his foresight to clean up before letting anyone into his house. 

“Oi, wear the new clothes we bought. Make an impression,” Sukuna said. 

Yuuji complied, before making his way towards the door, and just in time too. There was a knock on his door. Peeking through the peephole, Yuuji, let out a curse, it was Nanamin and a nervous-looking brown-haired man.

He took a deep breath and opened the door. 

✻

Yuuji stared at the boy in front of him. “You like movies, too?” 

The boy nodded, an embarrassed flush on his face. 

Yuuji smiled delightedly, “Great! I’m Itadori Yuuji! What’s your name?” 

“Yoshino Junpei.” He replied shyly, extending a hand. Yuuji shook his hand, subtly examining his cursed energy. 

It seems he and Sukuna have caught the young curse running rampant in Tokyo.

Now, to keep this kid safe. 

Chapter Text

Nanami stared at Itadori, standing in front of his doorway, clearly off guard. When he had been sent to Sendai with an order to investigate and possibly exorcise a potential Semi-Grade One curse, he had toyed with the idea of asking where Itadori lived so that Nanami may check in with the boy. But he did not expect to literally knock on Itadori's door. 

Before he could say anything, Ijichi thankfully took charge. 

“Ah, hello. I believe your neighbor has already informed you of the situation?” Ijichi smiled gently at the boy.

Itadori turned to look at him as if he had just registered another person with Nanami. “Oh, yeah. You guys wanna see the orchards, right?”

If Itadori found their request weird, he didn’t voice it. Instead, he said, “I’ll take you through the dirt path then. It’s easier and quicker than going through the house. Unless you wanna look through the house too?” 

Ijichi shook his head, “No, we were only instructed to look in the orchards.” 

Itadori looked relieved, closing the door behind him, and began to lead them down a winding path. Nanami wondered if the boy realized what a dirt path was because this path was neatly lined up with carefully maintained flora and green mosaic tile underfoot, metal posts with vines creeping up along their length kept the more unruly-looking plants on the other side of the vegetation. it was not so much a dirt path as it was a walkway, a very nice walkway that combined man-made elegance and natural scenery. 

Itadori happily explained when Ijichi had inquired about the abundance of plants and the tile. "My grandfather was and wasn't a patient man. He liked the process of growing plants and liked to maintain and care for all these plants, but he didn't like the sloshy feel of the wet dirt under his feet, so he had the tile and the post added to help keep some of the more fast growing plants from getting too annoying. Later, he made me take over the maintenance." 

Itadori continued to point out several pieces that his grandfather had apparently installed, lingering on the surprisingly well-maintained koi pond and proudly pointing out each fish by name. Breeding fish was another past-time of his late grandfather, it seemed. Slowly, they ambled along the pathway before finally reaching the heavy, iron-wrought gates that led into the orchards. Nanami watched as the boy made as if to push them open before stopping and turning to them with an embarrassed look on his face. 

“Is there something wrong?” he asked, he tried to keep the frustration out of his voice, but they had spent a very long time on the lands because Itadori insisted on showing them everything along the grounds. And Nanami was not the most patient of men, despite his calm and stoic demeanor. He checked his watch, only some hours from noon, not too late, but far later than what he'd foreseen for such a mission. 

The teenager pointed at the gates, “A couple of years back my grandpa melted the gate's keyholes together. So now, uh, the only way to get over is to, uh— to climb over it.”

Nanami felt a headache begin to build up. “Why did he feel the need to do that?” 

Itadori shrugged, kicking the ground with his shoe, very carefully not meeting their eyes, “He got tired of having the neighbors come by and ask him if they could have a picnic in the orchards and gardens. So he melted them and every time he needed something from there, he would send me to climb over the gate or just go through inside.” 

Yes, that was a definite migraine building up in his head. Why did he agree to take this assignment from Yaga? Gojo had been back for a couple of weeks now, surely he could take on this work? Gojo was the head of his own clan, while Nanami was the only sorcerer in his family. In addition, Yaga had asked that they scout Itadori for any talents that his clan was rumored to have, but so far, he did not ping any of Nanami's senses. He looked at Itadori, who was in the process of helping Ijichi climb over the admittedly very tall fence, could he really in good conscience, allow Gojo to come and evaluate Itadori Yuuji? 

No, he thought to himself, Gojo would be useless and would talk about anything but the actual work and he absolutely hates having to talk about the Sorcerer Families. He'd try to schmooze Itadori as well. That smug shit.

“Nanamin! Do you need help getting over the gate?” Itadori called out to him. He looked over and saw Ijichi standing on the opposite side of the gate, looking embarrassed and puzzled. He decided he didn't want to know. 

Nanami sighed, moving forward and looking staring up at the gates’ imposing height, mentally cursing his decision to wear shoes unsuited for this type of activity. He grasped one of the thin poles and put one foot on one of the lower curled ornaments before scaling the gate with a quiet grunt. 

Landing lightly on the other side, he watched as Itadori looked at them both, seemingly thinking about something before the boy backed up and took off running. He leaped up, a hand outstretched to grab onto the uppermost pole, and then heaved himself over the gate with the grace of someone whose done it countless times before. Itadori landed with nary a sound, patting himself down and straightening out his shirt. 

The pink-haired teen bounced on the balls of his feet as he began to lead them through the gardens. “Okay! This way to the orchards! Please mind your step. The stones are a bit slippery because I hosed them down like, thirty minutes ago.” 

Ijichi turned to him curiously, “May I ask why?” 

Itadori chuckled nervously, “Funny story, actually. I was running around the roof, right? And I slip, so I’m pretty sure I go down and hit my head on the rocks over there and kinda pass out? For three days?” 

“You were serious?” Nanami asked, unimpressed and slightly horrified, He resolved to check over the boy's head as soon as possible. "Do you know how dangerous head injuries are?" 

"Oh, don't worry, I have a hard head!" Itadori laughed airily, “Moving on! The fence is broken and I have no idea why, but I’ll clear it out so you guys can head in.” 

Itadori began to pull down the broken planks of wood with an easy hand. Nanami briefly wondered if the boy should be allowed to be morning around so freely after apparently losing consciousness for three days due to a head injury, but when he attempted to protest at it, Itadori had sent him a surprisingly sharp look and allowed Nanami to feel his head for any lumps or knots. He found none, and Itadori had gone back to tearing down the admittedly battered-looking fence. 

Ijichi moved closer to Nanami, a questioning look on his face. “Do you know the boy, Nanami?” he asked. 

Nanami sighed, adjusting his sunglasses, “I do. I ran into him about a month ago when Gojo had yet to come back from that trip overseas. He has a bakery he inherited from his late grandfather that he plans on opening in October. He also owes me croissants.” 

Ijichi opened his mouth to say something but was cut off by Itadori’s startled yelp. They both turned to look at him, Nanami immediately scanning the area for any threats nearby. It would most likely be difficult to fight in these conditions if a fight did indeed break out, though. 

The orchards were not in the uniform lines that most harvesters favored, instead, the fruit trees seemed to be planted in a random manner, some lay clumped together in pairs of three and four trees, while other trees grew wide and thick separately, heavy with their yield and colorful in their blossoms. Apple trees and orange trees stood side by side reaching for the heavens while low, plentiful peach trees covered the foilage underneath and reached across and around the persimmons trees. 

“It’s okay!” Itadori waved off, “I just touched a slug, that’s all! Anyway, you can come in now, it’s clear.” 

They began to pick forward, walking slowly so as to not miss any suspicious behavior and because of the amount of fallen fruit that littered the ground. Meanwhile, Itadori watched them with inquisitive eyes, flitting from Nanami to Ijichi and then to the trees and back. He seemed to be studying them, staring at how they interacted and spoke to each other. Nanami felt the slightest bit of unease, so far in their interactions, Itadori had been cheerful and bubbly, almost delighted in the presence of Ijichi and him.

Now, he hung back, quiet and almost guarded, leaning against the fence as they scoured the surrounding area. Nanami watched as the boy’s eyes lost focus before he seemed to come back to himself with a minuscule nod. 

“So what are you going looking for exactly?” Itadori asked, head tilting to the side. 

Yaga told us that there might be a special grade curse here, we need to make sure it’s properly disposed of, and we must also inform you of your possible connection to the jujutsu world, Nanami thought, mentally snorting at the explanation, he could already see the look of disbelief on Itadori’s face before the boy ran for the hills. 

“We’ve received reports of suspicious behavior from one of our agents, an individual we’ve been hunting for the past few days is suspected to have passed through here,” is what he said instead. 

Itadori furrowed his brow, “Is it like a domestic terrorist?” 

“Something of the sort,” Ijichi answered, before he turned his head to the side, something had caught his attention. The man abruptly turned and began a very fast-paced walk toward the left. 

Both Nanami and Itadori ran after him, easily catching up and keeping pace as the brown-haired man finally came to a stop at a slightly dilapidated barn. Itadori’s face went white, and Nanami didn’t blame him. The entire place was a gruesome sight. 

Dried blood on the walls and broken wood littered the perimeter. The barn stood in the middle of the wreckage like a beacon in the night, and if Nanami were the type to personify, it stood like a weary soldier who had walked through hell and lived to tell the tale. Worse still, where the chunks of the curse’s body still strewn about was the aura of dread and uneasiness. Whatever killed this curse was much stronger than it, and had left a such residue that no doubt other cursed spirits may be attracted to this spot. 

“Shit,” Nanami said, alarmed. He turned to Ijichi, “Call Yaga and tell him that the Semi Grade 1 was killed by something else.” 

Ijichi turned away to make the call and Nanami turned to face Itadori, who still stared at the walls in horror. He weighed the pros and cons of telling the boy the truth, but Itadori spoke before he could say anything. 

“So I'm guessing you guys aren’t with the police or anything?” He asked. His eyes were still on the walls. 

Nanami sighed, beckoning Itadori to come to his side, “No, Ijichi and I are sorcerers. People who can see and kill these beings, which are called curses.” 

“Curses?” Itadori looked panicked, yet he still shifted closer to squint at the barn’s blood-stained walls. He kicked at a smattering of weeds near the closest wall and peered down the length of the wall. 

“Yes, curses. They are the physical embodiment of negative human emotions. Anger, grief, humiliation, depression, such emotions often bring about curses—” 

“Ow, fuck!” Itadori yelped. He stumbled back into Nanami’s chest, making the blond man stumble, unprepared to support the surprisingly sturdy and heavy teenager. 

“Are you hurt, Itadori-kun?” he asked, his eyes flickered over the boy’s figure, trying to find any wound to make him react in such a manner. Itadori shook his head but pointed at the undergrowth with a frown. 

“I didn’t actually get hurt, but I touched something squishy with my foot and I don’t know what it was,” Itadori explained, his eyes trained on the undergrowth sporting through the rotting floorboards, trying to find whatever he had touched. 

Nanami crept closer and sucked in a breath, the body parts had begun to crawl together. He turned to Itadori urgently and told the boy to find Ijichi, Itadori hesitated for a moment. Nanami saw the boy look unseeingly at the wall and then turn to him, an unreadable look in his eye. 

“Go!” He ordered. He turned back once the boy had left the barn, and slowly breathed out. Relief nearly made him light-headed. The child will live to see another day, he thought, he doesn’t see the curses still crawling about.  

In less than two minutes, Ijichi came in, Itadori at his heels, both wearing worried expressions, though Itadori still looked more confused than scared. Nanami addressed Itadori first, “Itadori-kun, please return to your house, this will not be safe for you.” 

Surprisingly, the boy complied. Oh sure, he looked like he was about to argue, but he looked both men in the eye for several long moments. Then his eyes seemed to dim, just like the time at the bakery. Itadori blinked, seemingly coming back to himself seconds later, and nodded. 

“Please don’t die on my land or damage it.” He said simply, his eyes burning into Nanami's. Then he turned and left the barn, Nanami waited until he could no longer feel the boy's presence before turning to Ijichi. 

“Ijichi.” Nanami said, pulling out his sword, “Please cast a curtain. Best make this quick.” 

Just before he and Ijichi dove into properly exorcising the spirit, a little niggle of information tugged at the back of his mind. Did Itadori's eyes change color when he held eye contact with Nanami? 

✻

Yuuji sat down in the living room, releasing the iron grip control he had over his cursed energy. Exhaustion seeped through his pores and he felt Sukuna’s anticipation curling in his gut. 

“Brat, hurry up before they come back and we lost this window of opportunity. I was already patient and did not make you eat it right when we found it.” The curse commanded impatiently, Yuuji could almost imagine Sukuna leaning forward on that bony throne of his. He groaned, but reached into his pocket and pulled out another one of Sukuna’s fingers. 

“This is what? Finger number two?” he asked idly, turning the finger over and examining it with curious eyes. Sukuna snarled at him, impatient, but Yuuji whined. “Let me look! I don’t remember what it looked like the first time around!” 

“And who’s fault was that exactly? Consume it before the sorcerers come back and we are compromised.” 

Yuuji grumbled but complied, “Bottoms up.” 

He swallowed the finger. Immediately fire flowed through his veins, and Yuuji choked, tasting wax in the back of his throat even as he felt more of Sukuna’s energy settle into the marrow of his bones. He doubled over in his seat, clutching at his head as the heady power ripped through his body. He groaned, reaching to rub at his now throbbing head. 

“That shit is horrible. I have to do that eighteen more times?” Yuuji dreaded Sukuna’s answer. 

“Yes, brat. Get used to it.” 

Yuuji flopped along the length of the couch, bemoaning his fate before he sat up suddenly, “Oi, Sukuna, how come Nanamin and the other guy didn’t sense my cursed energy? It was super obvious, no? I tried my best but I still let some out when I found your finger.” 

“Because they are inferior,” Sukuna said smugly. “They look but do not see.” 

Yuuji waited for Sukuna to elaborate, but when nothing else came, he prayed for patience. “Alright, I’m gonna go start on some sourdough bread and ignore the possible implications of that.” 

“No, I want blueberry tart.” Sukuna’s mouth snapped at him from its spot on his hand. Yuuji smacked the tongue that lolled out. 

“We don’t have blueberries anymore.” Yuuji ignored Sukuna’s grumbling as he meandered over to his kitchen. 

Yuuji was in the middle of measuring out the dry ingredients when he felt Sukuna quietly retreat into their mental space. Almost instinctively, he slowed the flow of cursed energy to match that of the nearby bonsai tree, the same one Sukuna said to imbue to use as a decoy. 

There was a knock on his door and with a glance at the clock, Yuuji went to go open it, mildly impressed that it had not taken more than an hour for the sorcerers to finish off the rest of the curses. 

Nanami and Ijichi stood in front of the door, looking for all the world as if they had merely taken a stroll through the orchards. Through careful inspection, Yuuji found that the blond man was favoring his left side. Vicious satisfaction stabbed through him. 

"Sukuna, we do not pray for others' downfall," Yuuji patiently reminded his tenant. "That’s not what an upstanding Japanese citizen does."  

"I do not pray," the curse sniffed haughtily, "I actively participate and have a hand in their downfalls. And what makes you think I was an upstanding citizen, you fool? I am the King of Curses. The most powerful and most ruthless."  

"And you’re stuck inside me," Yuuji shot back, even as he smiled at the sorcerers with closed eyes and welcomed them into the house. “I have frozen pastries from last week, feel free to take some!” 

Yuuji led the two to the kitchen, allowing the men to look and ask about anything, which to his relief, wasn’t often. 

“You are fond of bonsai trees?” Ijichi asked him, staring at the bonsai tree in his kitchen. Yuuji’s breath caught in his throat. The mousy-haired man was staring at the curse-imbued tree with a little too much concentration for the teen’s peace of mind. 

“Gramps was,” —please take the bait, please take the bait, please the bait— “He really liked having funky-looking trees everywhere in the house and I don’t wanna throw them away. Feels rude to dishonor his memory like that, you know?” 

“Ah,” Ijichi said, looking consternated. "Yes, I assume that is the reason for the trees planted in the orchards?" 

Yuuji nodded, waving off the man’s apologies with the quiet realization that the man was a bit of a pushover. He was suddenly glad he had insisted on taking them through the long way to the orchards and sent a thank you to his grandfather for the inability to fully laze about. All the decorations his grandfather had put about really did come in handy when it came to distractions. 

"His head should be cut off for questioning the decor, rude bitch." Sukuna snarled. 

Yuuji made a vague soothing noise, absentmindedly flicking his fingers against his palms to ensure his nails hadn’t lengthened into the claws that he usually had when no one was around, "That’s why I brought up my grandpa, Sukuna. People generally don’t know what to say when dead relatives are mentioned. Especially if the person bringing them up is fond of the deceased."   

Sukuna scoffed. A bit petulantly, in Yuuji’s humble opinion. "Make them leave, I tire of their stink." 

Yuuji sighed quietly, "Do they really smell? Or are you just getting antsy?"

"Child," Sukuna’s voice was frigid, "I tire of their false pleasantries, they are toeing my thin patience."  

While Yuuji rearranged the frozen pastries in an aesthetically pleasing baggie, he wondered how much of what Sukuna said was bullshit. He put the thought aside, it didn't really matter, he decided as he presented the goods to the two sorcerers. 

“Here, I made too many last weeks,” Yuuji said cheerfully. 

“Thank you, Itadori-kun, though we have something to discuss with you if you don’t mind?” Nanamin finally spoke up, taking his sunglasses off and leaning against the granite countertops. 

If Yuuji’s tight hold over the flow of their cursed energy was anything less, their cover would have been blown with the magnitude of Sukuna's enraged roar. As it was, Yuuji made a little noise in the back of his throat, pretending to eye the spot where Nanamin’s hip was resting against the counter. 

The man seemed to take the hint, moving away from the counter. Sukuna was spitting swears and snarling obscenities at the two intruders. If he kept it up, Yuuji would end up with a migraine from having to constantly and consciously control the now raging flow just under his skin, hidden and disguised as his blood flow. A dull throb arose behind his eyes even as Yuuji agreed. 

“Sure,” Yuuji said, “We can talk in the living room.” 

While he walked towards the living room (the traditional one, Yuuji didn’t like having unfamiliar people in his space any more than Sukuna did, and besides, Gramps always used the traditional living room for unwanted company, so it made sense), Yuuji retracted his nails, reaching up to rub at his now pounding temples before he shoved them in his pockets before the two very much professionally trained, very much still unknown variables caught on, Sukuna stop fucking snarling or so gods help me.  

The snaring stopped, but Yuuji knew they would be duking it out later in Sukuna’s domain. Or he’d have to make the thirty-minute walk to the good grocery stores and drop some thousand yen for quality blueberries. Yuuji almost regretted making the discovery that Sukuna could taste through the mouths he would make on his body. 

He sighed, placing the decorative bag on the low-rising table, and dropped into a seiza, staring at the two men expectantly. They followed suit, still staring at the painfully formal living room, Yuuj let them look their fill. 

It was the largest and loveliest room in the house, though Yuuji had suffered through enough stuffy meetings with self-important business executives as a child that the beauty had worn off long ago. It was a long rectangular room with the shoji screen that Yuuji had to his back being pushed aside to allow for the gardens to be in full view. The tatami mat would need to be cleaned soon, he noted absentmindedly. 

Yuuji didn’t pull out the cushions hidden under the table, nor he didn’t offer them tea. Yeah, he was being petty, and what? His head hurt and as responsible and trustworthy as Nanamin seemed, he was still a stranger and Yuuji wanted them out. 

“I will cut to the case, Itadori-kun. While we were indeed looking for the curse, we were also tasked to inform you of the possible connections you have to the jujutsu world.” Nanami said. 

Yuuji stared at them blankly, mind racing. They found out, didn’t they? 

Fuuuuuuuuuck.

They found out he was Sukuna’s vessel and they were gonna take him away and kill him and he wouldn't be able to work in the bakery—

"Brat," Sukuna rumbled. "Pay attention. Find out what they mean."  

“Elaborate,” Yuuji demanded, panic and headache causing him to use a clipped tone. 

Sukuna cackled. "And you call me high maintenance, you can’t hide your upbringing no matter what you do, brat."  

Yuuji rubbed his head, inclining it towards the sorcerers in a bare dip, both of who bore startled looks at Yuuji's sudden change in demeanor. 

“My head’s been hurting for a while now,” he said in lieu of an apology. “What do you mean by ‘possible connections?' My grandfather was a bakery owner, do you mean my parents?” 

Ijichi slid his phone across the table, a look in his eye that made Sukuna hiss out a vicious insult, “Do you recognize this photo?”  

Yuuji didn’t bother hiding the furrow of his brow as the device made squeaking noises against the newly varnished wooden surface. The mousy-haired man gestured for Yuuji to look at the screen. The teenager peeked at the phone, eyes flicking to and fro along all the faces. It seemed like a class photo, but why would he…? 

Oh. 

That was—

(Colds hands, the blurry image of a dark-haired woman, was she smiling at him? The press of lips against his temple, a whisper of ‘be good to grandfather, okay, Yuuji-dear? We'll be back before you know it!’ A laugh, a smile curved like the crescent moon, soft soft soft hair brushing the tops of his cheeks. 

A firm, large hand on his tiny tiny tiny shoulder, he had pink hair, like him, ‘be a strong boy, Yuuji, we’ll be home soon.' The light reflected off the thin silver rims of glasses. Broad shoulders and a carefree smile. Affection rolled off him in waves. 

They never returned.) 

“Where in the eight great hells did you find that damned photo of my parents?” Yuuji snarled, sudden wrath spiking through his being and he barely remembered to stamp down the cursed energy raging through his body, tongue heavy with his dialect. “Do not use my parent’s memory as a bargaining chip!” 

The spontaneous use of the dialect that had Yuuji sitting heavily back down, the fight drained out of him, sorrow replacing the near mindless fury. Not bothering to pretend to be polite, he sat with one leg stretched out, the other propping his hand to his head. Just to be that bit pettier he pulled out a black cushion to lean his free hand against. The fierce pounding against his head began once again, but Sukuna was quiet. 

He glared at the two sorcerers, “My parents died on a business trip or something, I’m not interested in knowing why and how you procured that photo. But leave, we can talk at a later date. You’ve overstayed your visit. ” 

Maybe he should’ve toned down the dialect, maybe Yuuji should’ve enunciated his words more, pronounced the vowels the way these undoubtedly Tokyo men were used to. But the way Ijichi stared at him, with confusion and the slightest bit of trepidation on his face reminded him of the pompous businessmen his grandfather used to have to entertain. 

They would try and correct his heavy dialect, reaching out to ruffle his baby pink fuzzy hair, and laughing at his dismayed expression. His grandfather would not stand for it, speaking heavy and clipped, forcing the businessmen to try and puzzle out their dialect. 

Later after the men left, his grandfather would take him to the garden and make ginger tea, and they’d laugh about it and Yuuji’s grandpa would tell him stories from his youth, dialect heavy and warm and fond. 

Yuuji blinked tears out of his eyes, turning away before Ijichi and Nanamin could see them, he breathed out harshly. Quietly he said to them, “Pease, leave.” 

That much they understood, standing up swiftly. No doubt, they would go back to wherever they came from and report that Yuuji seemed unstable, he felt as much. The subsequent wrath and sorrow switched up so quickly that it left him feeling unbalanced and with feelings of vertigo. Yuuji swiped the bag from the table and handed it to Ijichi at the front door. Nanamin managed to wiggle another day to come by the bakery to speak to him in private. He managed to narrow it down to two weeks before his official opening, two and a half months from now. 

Yuuji pressed the bag into Ijichi’s chest and subtly let one of his nails sharpen to a point and meanly poke him. 

Ijichi yelped, and Yuuji blinked innocently, valiantly fighting to keep a spiteful snicker inside. Ah, one of the few joys in life. He wondered how many others teased the nervous-looking man for shits and giggles. 

(Somewhere in a school in Tokyo, Gojo Satoru sneezed into his arm. 

“Bless you.” Fushiguro Megumi said grudgingly. Besides him, Kugisaki Nobara shifted away from Gojo in disgust even as she shoved a handkerchief at the man. 

“Oh, I already am, thank you,” Gojo replied airily, taking the offered handkerchief and proceeding to blow his nose obnoxiously into it. Then promptly ducked as a cursed tool and a hammer went sailing through the air in an attempt to decapitate him. 

“Ah ah ah, Fushiguro-kun! Kugisaki-chan! ” He cooed, “That doesn’t work on me!” 

Twin demands of his death and for his head followed the man’s gleeful cackles.) 

✻

Yuuji groaned quietly, exiting the convenience store with two bags full of cheap food. His stomach echoed him as he stopped by the vending machines to devour a piece of milk bread. He watched the people pass by for a while, holding onto the milk bread, systematically tearing it into pieces but curiously never eating it. 

“Oi Sukuna, had your fill yet?” He murmured quietly. The noise of smacking lips drew his attention to his palm where Sukuna’s hand grinned at him. 

“Yes, I want to see that movie you’ve been raving about.” Sukuna’s mouth bared its teeth at him in a gruesome copy of a smile. Four months ago it would have disturbed him, but now Yuuji simply huffed and stuffed the rest of the plastic bag into his backpack to sneak into the movie theatre. 

“After the movie, we’re gonna head to the bakery so I can take a nap before meeting with the lawyers again okay?” Yuuji told the curse mentally, having learned that people don’t take kindly to a teenager talking to himself in the middle of the say. 

Sukuna hummed in agreement, then grumbled, “So many meetings, and not one woman to truly lead the men, bah. What use is a man if a woman is not in charge of the finances?” 

Yuuji blinked, that was surprising, even more so because Sukuna sounded truly aggravated, which only happens when he witnessed something truly stupid. Like a bad horror film or having to watch Yuuji try and fail at imbuing yet another kitchen knife with cursed energy. 

“Sukuna… are you a feminist?” Yuuji asked warily. 

“A what?” 

“A person who believes in giving women the same rights men have.” 

“It never mattered, all rights anyone had were stripped when they were in my glorious presence. I killed and fucked indiscriminately. Men and women and those who did not subscribe to either, rare as they declared themselves. They were all holes for me to fuck and nameless faces for me to kill after I was done.” Sukuna declared. 

Yuuji sighed, wishing he’d never asked. Then something occurred to him, dread swirled in his gut. “You didn’t force them, did you?” 

“Where’s the fun in that? I cannibalized and murdered but I never forcibly took anyone. That fucking emperor spread too many rumors in my name, I should’ve killed him when I had the chance. Him and that embarrassment of a royal guard. A tiger cub could do more damage than those honor-obsessed fools,” Sukuna descended into enraged muttering, unaware of the palpable relief emitting from Yuuji.  

He nearly bowed over a shorter teen already in front of the theater in his inattention.

“Oh sorry,” he said reflexively. Then made did a double take because, because— 

Judging by Sukuna's sudden vicious snarl, the curse realized it as well. It was time for Yuuji to put on the performance of his lifetime.  

“Sorry,” he repeated, “I was thinking about this movie I wanted to see. And you looked kinda like the main protagonist, so I was kinda...” 

He profusely thanked his ancestors for small coincidences. The boy really did look a bit like the protagonists of the horror-thriller film series he liked to watch. 

The boy was still staring at him strangely, making Yuuji believe he'd used Tohoku-ben again, ever since the two sorcerers had come to his house and agitated him, he found that he’d been slipping into his dialect more often. It was as if the floodgates had opened and tempered his tongue once again.  He wasn’t mad about it, liking the way the words felt more familiar in his dialect, though he did gain some strange looks from the cashier in the convenience store earlier. 

“You were going to watch Slasher 6?” the boy asked. The younger boy— and he probably was younger, his voice was still high and hadn’t broken into a deeper pitch, and there was stubborn baby fat clinging to his cheeks, though Yuuji would always ask— was still staring at him as if he was an undiscovered creature. 

Yuuji beamed at him, “Yup! It's a good movie series, even if Slasher 5 was more plot-driven and—” 

“—took longer to get to the bloody parts, yeah.” the boy finished absentmindedly then looked up in shock as Yuuji laughed gleefully.   

“I’m Itadori Yuuji. What’s your name?” He stuck his hand out, and after a second the boy shyly smiled back, accepting his hand and confirming Yuuji’s suspicions. 

“Yoshino Junpei.” 

“Let’s go watch a movie yeah, Yoshino?” 

The boy nodded and entered the movie theater, Yuuji at his heels, a smile on his face even as his mind spun. 

He and Sukuna have found the person who has been around the curse that has been mutilating souls. Now, to find a way to keep Yoshino Junpei from dying. This would prove to be one of the best challenges they would encounter. 

✻

“Okay but you have to admit that Slasher 3 was a classic!” Yuuji argued. 

Junpei scoffed, “Yeah, a classic used to put me to sleep! The plot was so transparent that a five-year-old could identify it.” 

“That’s what makes it good!” Yuuji threw his hands up in fond exasperation, “It’s good because you know where it’s going and it can easily be used as a comfort movie!” 

Junpei snorted, hiding his face in his hands in a poor attempt to hide his humor. Yuuji watched him with satisfaction, the boy was guarded, yes. But it had been easy to connect with him through movies, and then music and shows, and even food. 

They’d even progressed so far as to use each other’s first names, and Yuuji was right, Junpei was fifteen, two years his junior. He had just dropped out of high school, though he was surprisingly squirrelly about his reason to do so. He lived alone with his mother, Yoshino Nagi, in Tokyo since he'd been born. And most surprisingly, he was a sorcerer, though it seemed like he wasn't in contact with any jujutsu sorcerer, which burned at Yuuji's natural curiosity. 

In his head, Sukuna groaned, “You’ve gone and adopted a stray, haven’t you? I thought you didn't connect with others easily?”

Yuuji could easily admit that he didn’t expect to bond with the boy so easily, almost taking him under his wing and now having a more personal reason to take down the young curse. He knew that Junpei was probably involved with the young curse, though to what extent, he did not know. But the young curse had no qualms about smearing Junpei with his cursed energy, for this slimy feeling of foreign energy quivered all around the younger boy. Yuuji sent a mental shrug to Sukuna, conveying his own confusion on the matter, but was shaken out of his contemplation when he heard a nearby cat mewling. 

Yuuji looked at Junpei. He’d heard the cat too. “D'ya wanna look for it?” 

The boy nodded and carefully they followed the meows. It took them around the curb to a little bush by an alleyway. There, under the bush, a white cat was laid out, blue-eyed and holding a paw at an awkward angle. Yuuij sucked in a breath and crept forward, soothing the cat with gentle humming when it made as if to try and escape. He stuck out a hand, letting the cat smell, and then gently lick his fingers. Yuuji slowly began to pet it and felt it start to purr under his gentle touch. 

He turned back to Junpei, “Help me take my coat off so we can bring it to my bakery, we’ll see what's wrong with it and maybe take it to the vet, yeah?”  

The boy nodded and repeated Yuuji’s actions to pet the cat, the pink-haired teenager watched as a small smile graced the younger boy’s face, chasing away the dark shadow in the boy's eyes and gentling his previously tense body. Bundling up the cat took practically no time, though Yuuji winced at the thought of cat hairs rubbing off on his sweater. 

“And now you’ve gone and adopted an actual stray. Fantastic.” Sukuna snarked tiredly. 

Yuuji wanted to tilt his head but turned to look at Junpei as the younger one began to speculate what type of breed it was. He talked animatedly with his hands, Yuuji found and had to occasionally redirect his arms away from accidentally hitting the cat or smacking Yuuji in the face. 

“What do you mean?” 

Sukuna sighed, “A stray with an owner and a cat.” 

“Uh, Yuuji?” 

“Hm?” he focused back on the boy, who looked nervous, “What’s up?” 

“Are you gonna keep the cat?” Junpei looked at the animal, who had started to playfully bat at his hands, nervously. “What if it has an owner?” 

Yuuji smiled, hefting the cat higher on his chest, the cat’s head lolled around, and its blue eyes stared at him with lazy contentment. “That’s why we’re gonna head to the vet in front of my bakery, we’ll find out if it’s chipped or not. And then we’ll see from there.” 

Junpei nodded, his attention already back on the cat who had begun to meow incessantly the moment it realized neither boy was paying attention to it. Yuuji stared at the cat, with a furrow in his brow, he really needed to get it checked so he didn’t have to refer to it as, well, ‘it’. 

“Is that it?” Junpei pointed to a cheery yellow building, proudly displaying cartoon outlines of a cat and dog. 

Yuuji reached out with one hand and shifted the boy’s outstretched hand to the next door. “It’s that one, we should get a discount. I bribed the owner with chocolate cheesecake. The one with the display is the pet shop.” 

He grinned at Junpei, bumping his shoulder against the boy.  After a moment, Junpei smiled back. 

Friendship making? A success.

+100 if you will. 

Thankfully, the visit didn't take too long. The vet told them that the cat was a bit underfed and just over eight months old. He, revealed to be a male after a quick inspection, had probably been living on the streets for a while.

“Though he must have been a house pet or been accustomed to people feeding him to be so docile!” the vet exclaimed, “And this coat is gorgeous, he must be a ragdoll hybrid. Most ragdolls don’t have an all-white coat like this. Are you going to keep him?” 

Both the vet and Junpei looked at him, one gaze hopeful and the other professionally inquisitive. Yuuji rubbed the back of his neck and blew out a sigh. He wasn’t used to making decisions on the fly like this, it was daunting. First things first though. 

“Sukuna, you can’t kill the cat.” 

With a heavy sigh, Yuuji could practically see the curse rolling his eyes. “Very well, the boy is off-limits as well?” 

“Probably, yeah.” 

“Coward.”   

Sometimes it made Yuuji feel weird about how familiar he had gotten with Sukuna to be able to almost predict what insults he would use. He shoved that train of thought away. If it doesn’t need to be examined right this moment, he won’t think about it. 

“Yeah, I’ll take him in, can you microchip him right now?” The nurse smiled at him and assured him that the procedure would be quick.

Yuuji turned to smile at Junpei, who had let out a small cheer at the news. The younger boy began to list all the products a cat would need. He suddenly paused, turning to Yuuji with a worried expression. 

“Wait Yuuji, how are we going to afford it all? It’s pretty expensive to buy it all in one day!” he whispered, casting a glance at the door as if to make sure the vet didn’t hear him. 

Yuuji laughed and reached over to poke Junpei’s cheek. He laughed even harder at the look on the boy's face. 

“Don't worry about it,” he said, “I got it all covered.” 

The joys of being filthy rich. 

✻

Nanamin had come in two weeks before he opened and told Yuuji that due to his ‘possible connections’ the higher-ups and some of the esteemed elders had wanted him to join their ranks, but due to his ‘inability’ to see and wield cursed energy, he could not. Sukuna had laughed so hard he began to wheeze. Yuuji was already tired of whatever these stupid fucking elders wanted. 

“Why can’t they just ignore me?” Yuuji demanded, pointing a whisk at Nanamin, “I’m not gonna risk my bakery for some old wrinkly bastards who want to control me!”

“Who wants to control you?” Junpei’s voice sounded confused and had the slightest undertone of anger, and Yuuji kicked himself for not telling the younger boy to come at a later time, (he also kinda wanted to coo at the protectiveness the younger boy exhibited). Nanamin had whipped his head towards the sound of Junpei’s voice. 

Yuuji groaned near silently, Junpei didn’t know how to regulate his cursed energy, so he was just spewing it everywhere. A beacon to those who could sense cursed energy, practically screaming, “Hey! Look at me! I can use cursed energy!”  

He hoped that Nanamin wouldn’t ask about it. 

“Some old people, don’t worry about it!” he called back, “Me and Nanamin are working on keeping them off my back.” 

Junpei walked into the kitchen with Nyanko in his arms, who meowed at the sight of his primary owner. He began wiggling in Junpei’s arms, a wordless askance to be let down, Junpei complied, opening his arms and letting the cat make its trek towards Yuuji. 

Nanamin twitched at the sight of the cat, which Junpei zeroed in on, because of course he did. Junpei was wary of everyone and their intentions, more so of unknown adults (Yuuji suspected that he had been bullied, given the fact that he mentioned his dropping out of high school and his strange lack of any other friends, and his suspicious mistrust of adults). He sat across Nanamin, Yuuji passed him a bowl with three egg yolks and a whisk. 

“You don’t like cats?” he asked, he began to beat the egg yolks on Yuuji’s silent request, dark eyes staring at the blond man with a suspicious look.  

Nanamin shook his head, “No, the cat just has an uncanny resemblance to my co-worker. It’s... surprising. What’s its name?” 

“Nyanko.” 

“Jiji.” 

The two boys looked at each other with narrowed eyes, Nanamin stared at both of them in concern. Nyanko, curious about the new person in his territory, placed a tentative paw on the man’s jacket. He meowed, and when the man began to scratch under his chin, he started to purr. 

Yuuji sighed, gesturing towards the cat, “Officially, his name is Jiji, that’s what it says on his registration documents. I call him Nyanko because that’s what he likes.” 

“That’s a bald-faced lie and you know it,” Junpei declared with a snort, he turned to Nanamin to explain, “The night after we found him, we had forgotten to give him a name so Yuuji sat on the counter for hours, and was tossing names at Jiji like he would respond and the cat only responded to ‘Nyanko’ because Yuuji had said it and then dropped his head on the counter.”

“How the fuck do you know?” Yuuji whined, “I was the only one here with Nyanko!” 

“The security cameras,” he said dryly, pointing at a ceiling corner. Yuuji whined for a couple of seconds, bemoaning his fate and how the universe was conspiring against him. 

“Ah, my apologies, I’m Nanami Kento, Itadori-kun and I have been acquainted for some time now.” Nanamin introduced himself, offering a short bow of the head. 

“Oh, uh, I’m Yoshino Junpei.” Junpei gave a slight wave and looked at Yuuji from the corner of his eye. Save me from having to interact with people, his eyes seemed to scream. 

“Alright!” Yuuji popped up from the floor, “Nanamin and I shall speak business outside ‘cause it’s super boring and also old people who are pretentious are involved. I’ll be right back, okay? If we’re not back in fifteen minutes, mix the whites of the egg with the yolk and add the oatmeal and chocolate chips, and pop it in the oven. It’s already pre-heated.” 

Nanamin gave Nyanko one last scratch under his chin before standing up and offering goodbye to Junpei. 

Once they were outside, Yuuji carefully leaned against the glass walls. Across the street, a woman walking out of the cheery yellow building waved at him, and he waved back. 

“What were you saying that the elders wanted from me?” Yuuji turned to look at Nanmin, he hoped that Sukuna, who was blessedly quiet, would not fuck with the sorcerer and make his eyes turn crimson. 

(It had happened with the granny from the supermarket, thankfully he had been able to convince her that it was a trick of the light. She only let him off because he swore that he would visit the shrine with her for an omamori. Sukuna made him hang it up in the bakery, the damned King of Curses still got a kick out of it every time he saw it.) 

Nanamin stared at the cartoon designs of the cat and dogs across the street, not meeting his eyes, “The elders wished for me to express their desire for you to stay quiet.” 

Yuuji blinked, automatically stamping down on Sukuna’s enraged spike of energy. His voice was rough, the whisper of another voice an undercurrent, merging with his own. Curiously, there was an amused lilt to his words. “They want my silence? They sent you to intimidate me, huh?” 

Nanamin nodded, looking a bit unnerved at Yuuji’s strange reaction. He laughed, already pushing himself off the wall. He waved off Nanamin’s concern, still speaking in the strange lilting way, “That’s the stupidest way to make someone stay quiet. They could’ve just sent me a fat check or some shit. And it’s not like they can kill me, buncha old bones move for shit anyway.” 

Yuuji turned around to face Nanamin, “You should go, Nanamin. Tell your elders and higher-ups they have nothing to worry about. I would’ve liked a check though.” 

Yuuji left Nanamin outside with a final wave. He watched as the man lingered for a couple of seconds before leaving in a nearby car. He sighed, lingering at the entrance of his bakery, staring unseeingly at the bakery's name done up in cheerful colors. He'd managed to get the elders off his back with nothing but a warning, not even a flicker of interest beyond his position as the last standing member of his clan, they discarded him like yesterday's trash because of his 'lack' of cursed energy. A curl of haughty satisfaction simmered in his gut as his lips tugged into a little smile, he managed to have them pass him over! Despite his clan's reputation!

Yuuji resisted the urge to giggle as he watched Nanamin's car pass by, raising a hand in goodbye as the car turned to enter the freeway. Sukuna pressed forward in their mind. 

“That one wouldn’t survive battling the coward.” Sukuna commented, sounding almost smug. “He’s purposely repressing himself, that fucking catholic.” 

Yuuji hummed, “A Binding Vow, no? I wonder what it is.” 

“Some only reveal it during battle.” 

A flash of bloodthirsty urge burned through Yuuji even as he shook his head, “We won’t be fighting Nanamin. Even if he’s weaker than that curse we’re looking for, he still has more experience than me.” 

Sukuna retreated further into his domain with a quiet grumble and Yuuji turned around, Junpei was standing in the doorway with Nyanko in his arms, an adorably inquisitive look on his face.

Which reminded him… 

“Hasn’t it been three weeks already? We haven’t gotten around to looking for the curse that hangs around Junpei. I thought you wanted it gone?” 

“The fool will reveal itself in time. It knows not the fear it will feel.” 

Yuuji blinked, “Alright, Socrates.”

“Yuuji?” Junpei wandered closer to him, “What did the guy want?” 

Yuuji waved him off, “He just wanted to relay some information that his boss made him tell me.” 

“Did he threaten you?” Junpei’s eyes tightened, though his hands remained gentle around Nyanko. 

Yuuji laughed, passing him to enter the kitchen but not before poking Junpei's cheek, “Not in a way that matters. Don’t worry about it, I’ll be okay.” 

Junpei followed him, both he and Nyanko whining at him. This waiting game with the young curse will have to come to an end, and soon. He has no doubt that Nanamin will request to talk to Junpei since the boy hasn't learned, or been taught, how to mask his cursed energy. 

✻

The curse revealed itself that very night. Yuuji had just locked up the bakery and was heading home, having sent Junpei home with Nyanko. He had been walking to his new apartment a couple of blocks away when Sukuna had snarled. 

Instinctively, Yuuji let himself fall forward, twisting his body halfway through the fall and kicking his feet out, laden with cursed energy. The curse had jumped back and after a few stunned seconds, began to laugh. 

Yuuji looked up, watching the curse with wary eyes. He had mismatched blue eyes and hair tied into three sections with patchwork-like skin crossing his face and stitches everywhere, seemingly holding his joints together. The curse had a deranged smile on his face and when he waved a hand both Sukuna and Yuuji snarled.

There in his hand, he held three of Sukuna’s fingers. The curse’s smile had widened at the noise that tore out of his throat. 

“Ha! Jogo was right! You are the vessel of the King of Curses!” the curse cheered, flapping a hand impatiently, “Quickly now, tell him to come out. Tell him Mahito has a deal to strike with him.” 

Sukuna had not stopped snarling, and it was taking a toll on Yuuji, because he had to clear his throat three times to be able to speak, and even then, his voice was dual-toned and croaky. His own patience was thinning quickly, disgruntled at the taunting behavior. 

“Mahito? Is that your name?” Yuuji chanced a glance around the neighborhood, all the windows were drawn and unlit. Good, that would make his job easier. “What type of deal do you want?” 

Mahito pouted, and Yuuji furrowed his brow at the cursed spirit’s childish behavior. Guess he really is a child then, he mused. 

Seeing as Mahito wouldn’t answer, Yuuji tried a different approach, “Who’s Jogo?” 

“He’s the one that sent me these three fingers.” Mahito chirped, then his face changed, and the deranged grin was back. “I also planted one in Junpei’s house. His mother should be the only one there at the moment. Quite the surprise he’ll have, huh?” 

Yuuji’s breath caught in his throat. Oh god… Junpei! 

“Brat, focus, what does this fool want? You can damage control later.” Sukuna reminded him. Yuuji shook his head, clearing his thoughts. Right, first this, then… then he can focus on Junpei. 

“What does Jogo want?” Yuuji asked, mind scrambling to piece together Mahito’s possible motives. 

Mahito hummed bouncing on the balls of his feet. Yuuji scrunched up his nose at the sight of his bare feet. That was just nasty and bad manners, even Sukuna wears shoes. 

“It’s simple really. We want Ryoumen Sukuna to join us; with him, we can finally enter the Golden Age for curses.” Mahito twirled, presenting the three fingers to Yuuji. “These three, with the one I left at Junpei’s apartment, are almost all of the fingers we have in our possession. How many have you consumed on your own, hm?” 

By the tingling on his cheek, Sukuna must’ve opened a mouth and eye. Sukuna murmured into their mind, and Yuuji leaned against the nearby wall, relaxing his tense body. Mahito cocked his head, confused. 

“Hand me the fingers. I shall see if this is worth my time.” 

Yuuji’s eyes widened, “Sukuna! You’re not seriously considering—!”

“Quiet!” Sukuna snarled, “Do not dawdle. Show me the fingers.” 

Mahito approached them cautiously. At Sukuna’s prompting, Yuuji held out a hand for Mahito to drop the fingers onto. Just as quickly as they had touched his skin, Sukuna opened a mouth on his palm and swallowed the three fingers. 

Almost immediately, Yuuji doubled over in pain, he gasped for air, clutching his chest and blinking rapidly. He’d never taken them at the same time, and it was clearly overwhelming the boy. Mahito watched as Sukuna’s markings darkened on the boy’s skin, slowly beginning to feel apprehensive as he heard the dark chuckles fall from the body’s lips. When the boy looked up, Mahito nearly wanted to run away. 

Four red crimson eyes watched him impassively, the face which had been already stretching into the sturdy lines of adulthood were decorated by stark black lines, running along the edges of his face and over his nose and forehead. The aura of bloodlust and terrifying cruelty was almost too much to bear. 

The King of Curses stood before him and he was every bit as intimidating as Jogo had proclaimed he was. Maybe even more. 

No matter, Mahito thought, shaking off the fear, Sukuna had taken over, surely this meant that he was on their side right? 

“Okay! I just need to tie up one more loose end, and I’ll escort you to meet everyone else! There is an alleyway two blocks from here, that’s where I usually spend my time, I’ll meet you there!” 

“No.” 

Mahito whirled around to see Sukuna idly inspecting his nails, not looking up, he said, “There’s a school nearby. Your pet had gone there, my guess is that he will be enacting revenge on his bullies now that his mother is dead. I will go there and you will follow.” 

Mahito nodded warily, turning back around he melted through the nearby drainage, presumably to where Sukuna had instructed him to go. 

Sukuna watched the drainage for a couple of seconds before sighing, “Alright brat, come on out.” 

Almost seamlessly, Yuuji came back to the forefront, he watched with interest as the markings melted back under his skin for a couple of seconds before he began to sprint in the direction of Junpei’s old school. Along the way, he pulled out his phone and dialed the only sorcerer he knew.

“Itadori-kun? Is there something wrong?” 

“You could say that!” Yuuji panted, “it’s just, there’s this kid, his name is Junpei. You remember Junpei right? He’s from the bakery, I’m planning on hiring him so he could have something to do, uh— anyway, he says that he can see curses? And uh, his mom might be the victim of a cure attack? I’m not sure, but he called me in hysterics and said that he’s at school so I’m gonna go and hopefully calm him down and maybe introduce you to him formally. And then you can work something out with him yeah?”  

“Itadori-kun, what? Where are you? What—”

“Cool! Meet me in front of the bakery! I'll be there with Junpei in about an hour, an hour and a half okay? Okay!” Yuuji shoved his phone back into his pocket after making sure that he had clicked the right button. 

Ahead of him, the school building loomed, tall and imposing. Yuuji searched for an entrance for some seconds, before deciding to just scale the chain link fence. He followed Junpei’s trail and came upon the boy standing in front of a fat old man, the principal if he had to guess, standing in front of an office just off the main hallway of the school building. 

And… were those— were those jellyfish? 

“Shikigami, he can summon familiar curses that can fight in his stead. He will be weak in close combat.” Sukuna observed. “Jellyfish are the venomous ones, yes?” 

“Or poisonous I don’t really remember the distinction.” Yuuji crept closer. “I’ll have to get closer to not get poisoned then.” 

“You’re immune as my vessel,” Sukuna revealed idly. 

Yuuji sighed, “Thanks for the notice beforehand, asshole. Please shut up, I'm trying to listen.” 

But Yuuji couldn't make out any words Junpei was saying, not when he caught sight of Junpei's scarred forehead, for a second, blood roared in his ears. But no, he shook his head, that was for a later time. 

“Junpei!” he shouted, coming to a stop some meters away, “Junpei, what are you doing?” 

The boy was startled but then his face hardened, “Yuuji? Leave, this doesn’t concern you.” 

Yuji snorted, “Like hell, it don’t concern me. What the fuck are you going to do to the old man?”

“He turned a blind eye!” Junpei shouted, “He let them burn me and didn’t report it! I told him! I— I told him! And he sent me away!” 

Yuuji turned to look at the man on the ground, who was sputtering and crawling away. Junpei growled and lunged forward and Yuuji moved with him, entrapping the smaller boy in his arms. Junpei’s shikigami surged forward, and Yuuji was forced to let go of the younger boy and take the brunt hit for the old geezer. And ow, fuck, that hurt. 

“Guess you weren't lying about that immunity,” Yuuji murmured, near smiling at Sukuna’s offended scoff. 

The shikigami disappeared with a quick punch and Yuuji returned to his original task of trying to keep Junpei from murdering his principal. He grunted, Junpei had exceptionally sharp elbows and the ability to wiggle better than Nyanko.

“Junpei, it’s okay. We can make the guy regret not reporting it. C’mon kid, you don’t have to do this.” He said in a low voice, struggling to keep Junpei's arms pinned to his sides.

“Yes, I do! Yes, I do! Mom just died and—” Junpei trailed off, voice breaking. He made a wounded noise as they watched his former principal get up and run towards the exit. 

From behind him, Yuuji sensed Mahito’s cursed energy reaching out to him and threw himself onto the ground, dragging Junpei down with him. Junpei yelped in surprise, the fall taking most of the fight out of him. 

“Hey, Junpei? What’s Mahito’s technique, did he tell you?” Yuuji strained his eyes, pouring more power into his eyes to scope out where the young curse was after disappearing again. 

“Uh, he says he can see the souls and manipulate their shape or something? And he showed me some of his projects and stuff.” Junpei twisted around a little, trying to find Yuuji’s eyes, “Why? What happened?” 

"Sukuna?" Yuuji thought, "Will that be a problem? to be able to manipulate the soul?" 

"No," Sukuna said confidently, "The curse is still too young to do any damage, and with both our souls in your body, his Technique will be too unskilled to manipulate mine." 

Yuuji nodded, holding Junpei closer as he threw his senses around, trying to find where Mahito had gone.

There. 

Junpei had been able to sense him too because the smaller boy scrambled over to where Mahito was slowly forming. Yuuji only let him go because the kid had elbowed him in the solar plexus. 

Junpei smiled at him before turning back to Yuuji, “It’s okay! He’s not that bad!” 

Yuuji wanted to smack his head against the concrete and in their head, Sukuna snorted incredulously. Yuuji stared at Junpei, trying to get the boy into understanding what he just said by sheer force of will.

“Aw, Junpei! You weren’t supposed to tell him about my cursed technique! Now I have to get rid of you and him!” Mahito pouted like a child who'd been told he could no longer play a favored game.  

Junpei froze as he seemingly put all the pieces of the puzzle together. He turned to look at the curse, backing up slowly, “Mahito…?” 

Yuuji began to move towards the pair, a sense of foreboding urging him forward. 

Mahito laughed, “Your soul is hateful and really easy to manipulate. It really is wonderful.” 

Then he grinned, placed a hand on Junpei’s shoulder and time slowed down. 

✻

When Mahito first came into existence, he had already known where he stood. A curse, born from the hate and fear all humans had towards one another and according to some, a true human. He knew he was created from all the negativity that people harbored in their souls. 

He was created from the flaws in the human soul. From anger, fear, pain, humiliation, sadness, all the terrible sordid desires, vile instincts, and the abhorrence people have for each other, he was birthed. 

This granted Mahito the ability to not only see the human soul but to distort and change its shape, and he delighted in it. Spending leisure time just figuring out what exactly he could do. Shaping and changing and fine-tuning his abilities, uncaring of the consequences, for who was going to hold him accountable? And how would they harm him? He, Mahito, who was born from the darkness of the souls of humans?  He, Mahito, who could touch the souls of humans like no other? 

It wasn’t like the humans he had used to experiment with would try to fight back, they too weak to even realize what was going on. 

Then he met a boy, Yoshino Junpei, who had so much anger and resentment, it made Mahito want to laugh and laugh and laugh. And the boy could see him! And when Mahito told him he was a curse, the boy still looked at him with stars in his eyes and it made Mahito want to laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh. 

Because the boy ran after him and asked, “Can I do that too?”

And Mahito knew that the boy was undiscovered. Knew the boy was malleable and easily manipulated, so Mahito took him under his wing and showed him how to harness his energy. And Junpei flourished, his power growing in leaps and bounds, carefully curated with friendly spars and lengthy discussions, and if Mahito had him kill some of his experiments dressed up as hands-on learning, well, who would bare witness to that? 

Certainly not his experiments. 

But then Junpei met him, and he had come back with bright eyes and happy smiles, babbling about cats and treats like they were better than what Mahito was teaching him. For weeks, Mahito stalked him, watching him from the sewers, seeing how he would amble along the streets, greeting those that came across him cheerfully. Mahito saw how he moved, ungrateful and unhurried. He had no aura, no cursed energy to speak of, how simple it would be to overpower him!

He now stared at Mahito with wary and hostile intentions, hidden behind honey-brown eyes that shifted and flowed and lightened into yellow gold and then darkened to blood red and radiating barely suppressed anger. And Mahito—

Mahito laughed, like a fool, when Jogo had announced him as the vessel for the King of Curses. He had underestimated the boy, thinking that the boy was merely a vessel for the King of Curses and therefore not as dangerous, surely the King of Curses was only biding his time, waiting to return to his full strength to kill the boy and take over. Mahito handed the boy three fingers, and watched as the boy consumed them, and stupidly assumed that he had no control over his body, had stupidly assumed that the boy would not be able to absorb Sukuna’s energy.

Mahito had allowed the boy to increase his strength, even if he thought he was helping Sukuna become agreeable to their cause. 

When Mahito first came into existence, he had already known where he stood. He knew that he was on the winning side because their victory was surely guaranteed. 

But now—

✻

“ Idle Transfo— ” 

“NO!” 

Mahito stumbled back in surprise, throwing Junpei forward in an attempt to widen the sudden lack of space between him and Itadori. Then he cursed himself for his inattention. Of course, the boy was fast, he would even faster, frantic with worry over his friend. 

Mahito pouted as he realized that he had let go of Junpei before he could complete his technique. He stood back up, having fallen backward in his surprise. Turning back to the two boys, his breath caught in his throat. 

Crouched over Junpei was Itadori, gently brushing aside the younger boy’s bangs, checking his pulse, and cradling him close to his chest. But that’s not what chilled Mahito to the bone.

No, what shook Mahito to the core was the freezing aura around Sukuna’s vessel. Gone was the loud and expressive way the boy carried himself, gone was the warm and inviting air he had (which Mahito knew he had because Mahito had stalked him for weeks before making himself known), instead, he was freezing in all his actions now. 

The methodical way he put Junepi down, the way his spine straightened and hardened, the way his hands curled and trembled with barely concealed rage, the way his upper body seemed to blend into the shadows, and the way that, despite the shadows, Mahito could see the cruel set of his mouth. The grace that Itadori moved with was that of a predator, the look in his eyes spoke of a rage that was bone-deep, soul-deep.

There was no hint of Sukuna's infamous rage anywhere. This was all Itadori. 

“You’re lucky he’s alive,” Itadori whispered.  

Do something! his instincts screamed at him. His heart jackhammered in his chest, his breath coming in quick pants, Mahito searched for an escape route. Kill him before he kills you! Disfigure his soul!

With a scream Mahito rushed forward, hands outstretched, “Idle Transformation!” 

He touched Itadori’s shoulder, felt his soul, and laughed triumphantly. But then—

“You fool.”  

Ryoumen Sukuna sat, lounging on his throne, cheek resting on his fist. Mahito would have thought him bored, if not for the stifling presence he felt. But the anger was all wrong, it wasn’t like he heard, it didn’t lash out at him and leave him in ribbons, it didn’t burn across his flesh and leave him writhing in pain. No, no, this—

This wasn’t the same fury.  

This fury was bone deep, so cold it burned, left him choking and clawing at his chest, it crept up into his blood and slowed his reaction. It slid around his body and reminded him of a frozen tundra. Permeating his very being and freezing him in place. 

Then he saw it, behind Sukuna, four-eyed and fearsome, he saw it, and Mahito trembled. 

Because behind Sukuna, in the dark cavern that claimed the backdrop to his throne, were Itadori Yuuji’s eyes. Half-lidded pools of molten gold, pools of yellow cruelty.

In Itadori’s eyes, he saw a future where he killed Junpei, mutilated the boy's soul without a second thought, hounded by Itadori and escaped by the skin of his teeth and where Itadori would be in pursuit of him like a starving wolf chased a rabbit. 

He, the prey and—

Resolve, soul-deep, the very essence of anger and hatred and mindless devastation threatened to suffocate Mahito's soul. This was nothing like the emotions he had felt previously, this was older than he, older than Itadori, and perhaps as old as Sukuna himself. Mahito ripped himself out of Itadori’s soul, gasping and trembling. He dissolved his body and made it toward the drainage pipes he had come from. 

Itadori gave chase. 

But here, in the sewers, Mahito had the upper hand, here he could disappear into the pipes and lead Itadori on a wild chase, make the boy get lost in the maze-like structure, and hopefully call for Jogo or Hanami or even Getou.

Mahito didn’t account for Itadori to be able to stay right on his heels, twice he tried to split up his body to distract him, and twice the boy had destroyed those extra fakes with nothing more than a side eye and a slashing move. 

He cast a glance around and shot forward to veer right. Almost there! If he just turned around this right he would be close enough to—

Mahito fell as he felt a heavy weight slam into his back. 

He whimpered when Itadori gripped his face, a hand shooting up to wrap around the boy’s coldcoldcold wrist in an instinctual attempt at Idle Transformation. A scream lodged in his throat at the blatant curse energy pouring out of Itadori, so strong and so overwhelming that his technique withered away to nothingness. So strong he was reduced to a fearful, quivering shadow of himself. 

Itadori sneered, “What makes you think it would work again?” 

“You—you wouldn’t dare! Junpei said that you don’t harm lives. That you don’t believe in killing. That you think all lives are precious.” Mahito stammered, eyes darting to and fro, trying to escape Itadori’s freezing grip.

“I won’t harm lives?” Itadori murmured, a cruel ghost of a smile gracing his lips, “Yes, that’s true. I think all lives are precious.” 

Itadori’s grip tightened on Mahito’s face, leaning close enough that Mahito could feel his breath hit his skin. The teenager’s nails dug into his skin, pinpricks signifying that blood had been drawn. A gasp tore out of his throat, never had he been harmed like so, had Itadori figured out how to harm the soul just as he did? 

When did his nails become so sharp? 

“We’re the same!” he gasped in a last-ditch effort, voice high and unsteady in fear, “You and I are one and the same. We share the same ideals deep down! I saw it in your soul! You have no true respect for human lives! We— we can make a deal, see? No one has to get hurt!” 

Itadori raised an eyebrow, a cruel mockery of an inquisitive expression, it shattered when he laughed. Mahito trembled harder, Itadori’s laugh echoed strangely in the sewers as if another was laughing with him, low and condescending, like a rumble that reached deep in his bone marrow. When Itadori met his eye again, Mahito couldn’t hide his flinch if he tried to.

Itadori’s eyes creased into cruel golden-half moons, suddenly there were toomanytteethtoomanyteethwhyaretheysosharpwhyaretheyredtoomanyteeth. Their surroundings seemed to dim, casting strange shadows around them and distorting Itadori's shape, making him look as if he had four arms instead of two, and another face layered on top of his. 

“Junpei was right, I don’t agree with killing,” Itadori agreed, still speaking in that horrifying two-toned voice, “But you, Mahito, changed my mind. I’ve decided that curses like you… are only good for being killed.” 

“Sukuna’s fingers!” he begged, his heart hammering in his chest, “There are three of Sukuna’s fingers in Jujutsu Technical College! I can sneak in there and get them for you!” 

Itadori laughed that terrible laugh again and raised his hand. 

✻

The last thing Mahito saw was Itadori Yuuji’s cruelly amused face, one clawed hand alight in cursed energy. His final moments were of his slayer with four glowing yellow eyes and too-sharp teeth and too-sharp claws and too many limbs. 

The last thing he thought was: "Ah, so this is what fear is. So this is what a young god looks like when they decide you’ve lived enough." 

(And Mahito knew that Itadori Yuuji had not finished growing, had not finished developing, and he sent a prayer that Sukuna’s vessel would be merciful to his allies.) 

The last thing Mahito heard was Itadori's voice, and only his voice say, “I can get them myself.” 

✻

“Junpeeeeeeeeeei. Junpeeeeeei, it’s time to wake up.” 

Junpei grumbled, rolling over and letting out a pained groan as his head throbbed. The voice quickly soothed him, cold hands gently removed his own, which had immediately clasped around the main source of pain. 

“Hey, hey, c’mon, Junpei. Easy, open your eyes slowly. Easy.” The voice sounded familiar. Wasn’t that—?

“Yuuji?” He said softly. 

“Yup, you think you can open your eyes?” Junpei can hear the worry in Itadori’s voice and mentally smacked himself for worrying the older teen. Slowly he opened his eyes, seeing Yuujii’s face come into sight. The tight concern on his face softened into relief, and he sat back with a soft sigh and a happy grin. 

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” Yuuji said happily, reaching forward to gently poke Junpei’s cheek. 

That gentle, fond touch broke the floodgates because suddenly Yuujii found himself with a lapful of a teary, apologetic fifteen-year-old boy. 

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to— to hurt you!” Junpei sobbed his shirt, clutching at the no doubt expensive fabric and probably getting snot and tears all over it. He felt Yuuji’s arms close around him and after a slight pause, he began to slowly rock back and forth while murmuring soothing words under his breath. The gentle consolation made him feel even worse than before. 

How could Yuuji still be so kind to him? Even after knowing what he was? Surely, he would've been disgusted with Junpei, he had practically announced his desire to murder his principal! He had poisoned Yuuji! Junpei's body shook with the force of his sobs. 

Some thirty minutes later after he had cried out his eyes and heart and begged for forgiveness, Yuuji's phone buzzed. Yuuji reached into his pocket and answered his phone without dislodging him, Junpei was numbly impressed with the skill it must’ve taken. As exhausted and injured he must’ve been, Yuuji still valued Junpei’s comfort over the undoubted ease he would have if he simply moved him to the side. Realizing this, Junpei’s already fragile hold over the floodgates broke again, and he started to cry again, gentler this time at least.

“Hello?” Yuuji answered the phone quietly as if to not spook him, “Hey Nanamin, yeah I got him. Yeah, I’ll explain everything there. Yeah, I’ll meet you at the bakery. Okay, yeah, see you there. Bye-bye.” 

Junpei stiffened despite his best efforts and Yuuji must’ve noticed because he was quick to assure him that he wasn't in any trouble. 

“Oh no, Junpei,” He said, “You're not in trouble, Nanamin is super understanding and I’ll just explain that Ma— you were taken advantage of. And I’m pretty sure that he wants you to get proper education on how to use your curse energy. I think there’s a school for people who can use cursed energy.” 

Junpei frowned, “But aren’t you a sorcerer too? You fought Mahi— him, with cursed energy too.” 

“Hm, it’s a little complicated because I’m technically not supposed to be the way I am. But I guess I do have to find a way to explain how Mahito died.” Yuuji winced suddenly, “I killed Mahito, Junpei. I’m sorry.” 

“Oh.” Junpei didn’t know how to feel about the curse’s death. "That's..." 

On one hand, Mahito was a curse, a malicious entity that had attempted to kill him and Yuuji. In the end, Mahito proved to be childishly malicious and cruel, capable of discarding Junpei without a second thought, even going as far as to consider and about to go through and mutilate his soul. To the end of killing him, no doubt. But, Mahito had also taken him in, taught him things, and cared for him as not many had before. Saw his potential and began to draw it out. 

A niggle of information danced across his mind, Mahito was capable of harming souls. And he had brought him back to his base where creatures of horrific distortion lay, he had also said he was born of the cruelty of the human soul. What's more, when Mahito announced that his soul was "easy to manipulate" his eyes were cold and empty, and Junpei felt terror like never before. The certainty that he was going to die had never been so strong. 

Yuuji looked at him and probably saw the emotions playing across his face because his arms tightened around Junpei’s waist. 

“It wasn’t your fault, Junpei. You said your mom died, right?” At his pained nod, Yuuji continued softly, “Mahito said he planted one of Sukuna's fingers in your guys’ apartment.” 

That was the final nail in the coffin. Mahito had been the cause of his mother's death. His sweet, loving mother. The woman who had always been in his corner despite his troubles and the hurdles he'd gone through. Who understood, with shadowed eyes when he'd finally confessed why he couldn't- wouldn't go back to school. Who had simply ruffled his hair and allowed him to continue his studies from home, and encouraged him to go out to the movies when the four walls of their apartment seemed to suffocate him. 

His lip wobbled, but he breathed through the agony and instead focused on another matter. “Who’s Sukuna?” 

“Me.” 

Junpei blinked again, then slowly looked at the source of the voice, there on Yuuji’s cheek, sat a mouth. Pearly, sharp teeth and a red, red tongue grinned at him, a creased crimson eye blinked at him from the curious little folds (that were apparently eyelids), just above Yuuji’s cheekbones. 

“Hello, you squid fucking spineless brat.” 

Junpei reared back in surprise while Yuuji reached up and smacked the cheek in retaliation. Hard. 

“I’m so sorry about him. I’m still trying to teach him about proper manners.” Yuuji said sheepishly, patting Junpei’s hip with his free hand in apology. 

It was then that Junpei realized he was, essentially, cuddling the older boy and yelped. Scrambling out of the older boy’s lap and resulting in a couple seconds of flailing on both ends.  

“Wait! Junpei, stop! There’s broken glass there!” Yuuji abruptly stood up, bringing Junpei up with him. 

Patting down the boy, Yuuji nodded to himself, satisfied that Junpei hadn’t hurt himself, “Okay. We’re gonna go meet Nanamin and he’s gonna explain to you what’s gonna happen next. Chances are he takes you to the sorcerer school so you can learn how to better control your cursed energy and shikigami.”  

“Wait, um, I left Nyanko in his carrier by the apartment,” Junpei said hesitantly.

Yuuji threw a little cheer but sobered up quickly as he turned to Junpei, “You don’t have to go with me, I’ll do a quick sweep of the apartment and clean up any jujutsu-related things. Do you want me to report it to the cops?” 

Junpei’s breath stuttered as he stared at Yuuji, embarrassingly his eyes welled up with tears for the nth time that night. Yuuji looked away to give him some time to recuperate. 

“Why would you still help me…? I poisoned you and Mahito—” 

Yuuji cut him off, voice firm, “Mahito was my problem long before I ever met you, and because of me, Mahito saw it fit to plant one of Sukuna’s fingers in your apartment, resulting in your mother's untimely death. We’ve both wronged each other, Junpei, me more than you.”  

Junpei closed his mouth with a snap, slowly mulling over what Yuuji said. It wasn’t all true, Yuuji had no control over what Mahito did, so he shouldn’t blame himself for something out of his control! He stared at Yuuji but found no lie in his eyes or his face. Slowly, he let go of the guilt he felt over Yuuji's involvement in the mess that was his life. 

“Can you report it? And the principal too.” Junpei requested quietly.

Yuuji smiled sharply and reached out to poke Junpei’s cheek, bundling him up against his side. “Got it kiddo. Anything else?” 

Junpei looked at his shoes and said so quietly that he doubted Yuuji would hear him, “I don’t blame you for my mom’s death. It was Mahito’s fault through and through.” 

Yuuji had gone so deathly still beside him so Junpei peeked through his bangs to try and gauge his reaction. It was all for naught though because Yuuji had moved his face so that Junpei’s would not see it. 

The older boy nudged his shoulder softly though and thanked him in a rough low voice, so Junpei figured it was alright. He playfully nudged back and Yuuji finally met his eye and smiled at him. 

✻

Lying to Nanamin should be an Olympic sport in itself. The man was stoic and did not move until Yuuji had finished with his abridged report of what had transpired. Well, most of it, he couldn’t mention how he had consumed another three of Sukuna's fingers, or even mention Sukuna at all since it was kinda not something Yuuji felt Nanamin should know. So he was still a little wary of the older man, sue him. One misstep and he could potentially be branded the number one jujutsu world enemy. 

Thankfully, Nanamin seemed to buy the story, because he turned to Junpei and soon formally introduced him to the jujutsu world.

(But not without fiercely scolding Yuuji for doing something that a competent adult could have taken care of.

“It is not a sin to be a child,” he had said quietly, and Yuuji wondered about the story behind that.)

Yuuji had listened intently, both he and Sukuna memorizing every single bit of extra information that the blond man was telling Junpei. Yuuji had been right, Nanamin had informed Junpei that due to his shikigami abilities and ability to see curses, he would soon be a student in their specialized school. 

Yuuji had jokingly bemoaned his loss of a potential employee, teasingly accusing Nanamin of stealing away the one friend he had made in Tokyo when Junpei turned to Nanamin and said, quite seriously, “I won’t go to your school unless I can work at Yuuji’s bakery too. I’ll do part-time and do whatever I have to during school, please let me have this one thing.” 

Yuuji had flailing, desperately trying to get Junpei to take back his words. He had squawked that he was joking and Junpei didn’t have to say that! Nanamin, he was so sorry, please ignore he said that, he’s just joking! 

He had groaned out loud when Junpei set his feet and declared that he wanted to work at Yuuji’s bakery as well as attend the school and he wouldn’t take no for an answer, sir. Sukuna had not helped at all, cackling like a hyena at Junpei's expression and taunting Yuuji. 

"Now, you've done it!" He crowed, "You'll never get rid of him!" 

Nanamin sighed and reached to scratch Nyanko. “I’ll see what I can do.” he had promised. 

Junpei turned to him triumphantly, so Yuuji took the liberty of squeezing his cheek and called him a brat. 

✻

Now, two weeks later, Yuuji was the proud owner of one At World’s End bakery and coffee shop, its opening day was a success, he and Junpei had posted flyers and many of the older patrons who had been around for the first opening had clearly remembered him. 

To his endless delight, had no qualms of slipping into Tohoku-ben and conversing in the dialect, some of the older grannies even spoke in the heavier Tsugaru-ben, which ached just a bit, remembering his grandfather. The good memories overrode the hurt though, so Yuuji took that as a good sign that he was moving on from his grandfather's death. 

Throughout the day, it had been fairly busy, which left Yuuji quite glad to have extended the interior, though there had been some moments of panic where he and Junpei had wondered if they would have to add more tables. It had worked out in the end when some aunties realized they were dragging on their stay and ordered to-go bags. 

(They had cooed and pinched Junpei’s cheeks, which Yuuji would forever hold over him. Nevermind the fact that they had done the same to him.) 

Nyanko had been a hit as well, and the shameless cat had soaked up the scratches and treats with the same grace a deity would with worship. Yuuji was grateful that none of the customers that visited had allergic reactions to the cat, he made a mental note to put up a notice that people with cat allergies should exercise caution in the establishment. 

Junpei had chattered about his new classmates after closing hours when it had been just them and Nyanko, “Only two other kids! And they said I just missed the Kyoto Sister School Exchange or whatever, but they said that it was okay because it was super boring and kinda violent. And supposedly a senpai who was scheduled to return got caught up in another assignment so he had to stay back and isn’t due for another month or something. And sensei is really weird too! But like a good weird, because supposedly he’s super strong and, like, the best in the world.” 

Here the boy cut himself off and leaned towards him conspiratorially, Yuuji humored him and leaned forward as well, “I still think you’re the coolest and strongest though.” 

The tiny little Yuuji that lived in his head had screamed and popped a confetti bomb while simultaneously clutching his chest at the sight of seeing Junpei bashfully return to cleaning the table and stacking the chairs on top of them to mop. 

As it was, Yuuji had flushed and waved off Junpei’s compliment, “I’m sure he’s stronger, he has more experience in that stuff than me. What’s his name? And how are your classmates treating you? Are they nice? What are their names again? Kugisaki and Fushiguro right?” 

Junpei nodded, “Kugisaki Nobara and Fushiguro Megumi, Kugisaki is from the countryside and Fushiguro is from this prestigious sorcerer clan from his.. Dad’s side? I think. And sensei’s name is Gojo Satoru! Oh! And Fushiguro is related to Maki-senpai by his father’s side too, I think. It‘s kinda weird but I also see the family resemblance—” 

Everything else Junpei was saying was drowned out by Sukuna’s vicious snarl. 

“What? What happened?” Yuuji questioned Sukuna worriedly, he had not snarled like that since the very first serious curse had attacked them back in Sendai. 

“The two girls that just passed by have done so for the fourth time in the past hour. They are here on someone else’s orders.”  

Yuuji sighed, “As long as they do not approach us or harm us, we won’t retaliate, besides, it’s not like they know who we are. Now calm down Nanamin is due to pick up Junpei soon and I need to pack his pastries as well.” 

Sukuna harrumphed, “Give him the cherry pie.” 

“I thought you didn’t like the cherry pie?” 

“I don’t.” the curse said gleefully. Yuuji sighed again, turning back to Junpei’s stream of words. He gently nudged the boy to take a breath and helped him pick out Nanamin’s bag to go. 

He waved goodbye to the pair as they left for the Jujutsu Tech dorms and promptly collapsed on the countertop. Nyanko jumped up to paw at him curiously. 

He meowed at his human and Yuuji meowed back. All in all a successful first day at his bakery and hopefully more to come. Yuuji smiled happily, this was something good, and he would fight tooth and nail for his little bakery. 

Chapter Text

The sun rose and cast its rays on the Rokko mountains, paired with the crisp air of the early morning and the calls of the birds, anyone would’ve stopped to admire the sheer beauty that was the early morning in Kobe, Japan. 

Unfortunately, one 19-year-old Itadori Yuuji was currently hauling ass across the Rokko mountain range trying to escape the loving grasp of death in the form of a curse the size of a skyscraper, so he was too busy to enjoy the view. 

“Fucking shit, Sukuna, why couldn’t this wait for the weekend? I left the white chocolate outside! It’s gonna melt!” he panted, clutching his bleeding side as he leaped over a fence. 

He chanced a glance behind him, spreading out his senses to try and locate where the cursed spirit had disappeared to. He turned a corner and leaned against the alcove, trying to catch his breath. 

“You were the one who went along with it, so I don't understand how this is my fault.” Sukuna retorted. 

“You're the one who insisted I go!” Yuuji did not shriek, he didn't. He’s just riled up, that’s all. 

Something brushed along the edges of his senses, and Yuuji threw himself onto the ground, rolling into a half-kneeling position, one hand resting on the hilt of his sword while the other hand was braced against the ground. The large gash on his side twinged and he sucked in a pained breath as he felt the blood seep out sluggishly. 

The curse that had been chasing him for the past two prefectures made a triumphant noise (it was more of a screech really, but Yuuji was great at charades and pretty good at contextual clues), as it slowly advanced toward Yuuij. It had a satisfied glint in its singular eye and its grotesque wings— bent at an odd angle from where Yuuji had launched himself onto its back and twisted them at the very joint to keep it from flying— shivered in delight at having caught its prey. 

Yuuji grimaced, his pride taking a slight hit at not being regarded seriously. Kinda wack if you think about it, he sullenly thought to himself. This is the thanks I get for hunting down fingers. He grunted, a spike of pain making him turn back to the situation at hand. 

“Alright, I’m tired and I wanna go home now,” he announced. Standing up, focused his cursed energy into the thrice damned reverse cursed technique (which was a bitch and a half to learn), ensuring the cut was closed and healed, a thin white scar bisecting the lower portion of his torso. Yuuji smiled happily, stretching his arms above his head and twisting around to ensure he was not sore.   

“Sorry,” he said to the curse, raising a hand in apology, “I don’t do well with pain if I wanna get serious, y’know? Well, I do, but I just prefer not to be bleeding, it's hell trying to get bloodstains out of my clothes.” 

He sighed, releasing the tension in his shoulders, shook out his arms, and released the tight hold he had over the flow of energy just under his skin. It burst through, lighting up his veins and making him feel as if he'd just woken up from a very good nap. Yuuji laughed, feeling the heady, burning rush of power race through his body. It wasn't often that he was able to let loose like this, too preoccupied with the bakery and too paranoid that he would get found out. 

“Alright curse,” he murmured, “I don’t have a lotta time, I got a bakery to run y’know? So do me a favor and let yourself be killed easily, but also like, try not to make a mess. 'Cus my kid gave me this shirt for my birthday and he’s gonna be sad if I have to throw it away.” 

The curse roared and shot forward. Yuuji groaned, could they just not? He was tired and sleepy and he still had those fucking vanilla chocolate cups outside for fuck’s sake. 

He met the curse head-on, finally able to draw out the sword he had nicked from some asshole. Seriously, who even decides to pair black tips with blond hair? 

To Yuuji’s disappointment, the sword cracked after two slashes against the curse’s hide. He frowned petulantly, squinting to assess the blade’s damage. Eh, it should be able to take one more attack before being rendered useless. 

“Gotta make this quick then,” Yuuji grumbled. He hated having to rush things, they would never turn out good, in baking patience is something learned and cultivated. Here, it is just as important to make sure all covers are made and corners are not cut. 

He leaped up, locating the curse’s blind spot and driving the blade deep into its flesh. He pumped cursed energy into the weapon, then threw himself off the curse just as it let out a dying screech. 

He stuck the landing, throwing the broken hilt to one side as he approached the corpse, eyes narrowed. Usually physically large curses like this weren’t such a struggle, unless… 

“Aha!” he cheered, holding up two purple, clawed fingers, “Look, Sukuna! That's what made it so nasty!” 

Sukuna hummed as Yuuji tipped his head back and swallowed them, “This makes thirteen, now.” 

“And it only took us about two years to get here,” Yuuji said after choking them back down, throwing a half-hearted victorious fist into the air. “Should we take the train or should we just run back to Tokyo? Don’t say run.” 

“How far are we from there?” 

Yuuji shrugged, “Dunno… like six and  half hours away?” 

Sukuna sighed, the air tickling Yuuji’s left ear, “Just run, isn’t your human going to be opening today?” 

“His name’s Junpei, Sukuna. I know you know this. You’ve known him for two years now." Yuuji grumbled. "And you always make me run, what's wrong with taking the train?” 

“You’ve known him for two years. I never formally met him.” Sukuna sounded too imperious for discussing something like acquaintances, then he snarked, “If I don’t make you run, you’ll get lazy and die horrifically. 

“Lies!” Yuuji retorted, “You introduced yourself to him that night and I have enough— Oh hey, look. He just texted me!” 

“What did he say?” 

“Uhhh… he’s doing inventory today and that he’s gonna finish the vanilla cookies. What a godsend.” 

Sukuna snorted, “Better get running then, he’s not gonna work the entire day.” 

Yuuji groaned but began running. “It’s Tuesday, no one’s at the shop anyway.” 

✻

From jellyfish rights enthusiast: (10:19)

where????? are???? u??????

i finished the cookies btw, they just need the glazing 

 

To jellyfish rights enthusiast: (10:20) 

coolio thanks 

thats……. 

a great question actually im not too sure lol 

 

From jellyfish rights enthusiast: (10:20)

?????? that doesnt help me at all

you understand how that doesnt help right 

 

To jellyfish rights enthusiast: (10:21) 

affirmative 

to answer your question

im currently passing thru nagano

 

From jellyfish rights enthusiast: (10:22) 

??????? 

why 

 

To jellyfish rights enthusiast: (10:22) 

i legally had to

brb 

btw do u want mochi? theres some here w red bean filling

 

From jellyfish rights enthusiast: (10:23) 

kugisaki and fushiguro ar right u ar a cryptid 

also yes pls 

✻

It was late in the evening when Yuuji finally reached his bakery and the sun was just beginning to send long shadows along the streets. 

“Junpei! I’m back!” He called out, strolling through the empty bakery, pausing to hang up another omamori and scooping up Nyanko with his free hand. The boy came out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on the rag he had tied around his waist with a frown on his face. 

“Why were you in Nagano?” he asked even as he accepted the goodie bags and tore into them. Yuuji privately noted with a quickly hidden smile that Junpei let out a delighted gasp upon seeing three different kinds of mochi flavors. Sukuna huffed, quietly amused from the back of his mind. 

“Technically, I was on my way home from Hyogo.” Yuuji commented, slumping over the breakfast booth and cooing at Nyanko, “Where’s Chito?” 

Junpei looked around, momentarily distracted, “I think she’s taking a nap somewhere. What do you mean by ‘on your from Hyogo’? Why were you in Hyogo?”

“The curses are getting more active, have you noticed?” Yuuji prodded—avoided more like— waiting for the boy to confirm before he stood up to stretch. “Something big is gonna happen. The air changed too, it’s tingly sometimes.”  

Leaving Nyanko on the counter he walked over to the cat tree they had installed by the table booths, peeking inside to see if their tortoiseshell cat, Chito, was in there. The young tortoiseshell kitty had been following Nyanko around for some months before they decided to officially adopt her. Nyanko and Chito had hit it so well that Yuuji soon took them in to be spayed and neutered, two cats were enough for a bakery owner and his sole employee thank you very much.

Pouting at the empty space and no sign of Chito, Yuuji returned to his slumped-over position in front of the cashier station. Sukuna added his displeasure at not being able to find the younger female cat, grumbling about buying a jingling collar and sticking it on the wily feline. 

“With who’s fucking money, you goddamn freeloader?” Yuuji asked him, Sukuna snarled at him grumpily. "And she has a collar already! An 18k gold collar you insisted on buying!"

“Sensei said the same thing,” Junpei mumbled thoughtfully through his mouthful of red bean mochi, “I guess he wasn't messing with us then.” 

Yuuji turned to him, bemused, “Did you not believe him? I thought he was the strongest?” 

Yuuji was very sure he had spent countless afternoons listening to Junpei talk about his teacher’s ability and the fact that he had a seemingly perfect cursed technique. The boy had talked about his teacher so much that it had gotten to the point where Yuuji was sure Junpei had a crush on his teacher. When Yuuji had broached the topic with him, the younger’s face had been tomato-red for twenty minutes, even now, his ears would pinken if he was reminded. 

Junpei fidgeted for a couple of seconds before relenting, “I trust you more. And it feels more serious when you say it.” 

Yuuji was silent for a couple of seconds, and even Sukuna was stunned at the casual show of complete trust. Then he turned to Junpei and grabbed his shoulders, face pointed towards the floor. He stood in that position for ten very long seconds, trembling ever so faintly. 

“Yuuji…?” Junpei called cautiously, hands grasping at Yuuji’s arms. 

Yuuji finally looked down, and Junpei yelped as he registered the silent tears streaming down Yuuji’s face. 

“JUNPEI! You’re the best person I’ve ever met!” Yuuji blubbered, and his hands began to squeeze Junpei’s cheek. He cooed at Junpei’s futile attempts to remove him from his person, feeling warm fuzzies in his chest when he saw the shikigami user trying to hide a smile underneath his sweater sleeve. 

“You’ll never move me!” he cackled, letting Junpei take his total weight. “I am too strong and heavy for your skinny little noodle arms!” 

Junpei whined, struggling to dislodge the uncharacteristically heavy octopus-man. The shuffle continued for longer than Yuuji realized and they were only interrupted by Nanamin’s knock on the doorway. 

“Ah,” Yuuji said, straightening up with a glance towards the cutesy frog clock they had hung some time ago, courtesy of one of their older patrons. It was time for Junpei to head back to school. “Junpei, why didn’t you keep time? Very irresponsible, you must be punctual to all your appointments.” 

Junpei stared at Yuuji incredulously, mouth open and trying to work around words. Yuuji stared back, one eyebrow raised. 

Junpei gave up, he threw his hands up with a defeated laugh, and made his way to the front where Nanamin was standing, “You were six hours late!” 

“Do as I say, not as I do.” Yuuji imparted sagely.

Nanamin raised an eyebrow, “Do I want to know what caused this?” 

“Nope!” Yuuji chirped, cuddling Nyanko to his chest, a nudge against his jeans had him looking down and he gasped in delight at seeing Chito, the Maine Coon having woken up from her nap and now demanding pets. “There you are!” 

He bent down to coo at her while Nyanko wiggled out of his arms to groom his companion. From his position on the floor, Yuuji watched as Junpei grabbed his bag from the cubby holes, and spied a little jellyfish charm dangling from the phone that was peeking out of his sweater. 

He narrowed his eyes, “Hey Sukuna, did I give him that?” 

Sukuna perked up, eager for any gossip no matter how mundane it seemed. He cackled when he saw what Yuuji meant, “No, you didn’t. And neither did Nanamin, he usually hands them to you. Who did?” 

“You sound like one of those bad cop shows.” 

“What the fuck is a cop?” 

Ignoring Sukuna, Yuuji tugged on the charm, “Who gave you that?” 

Junpei froze, a panicked expression on his face as he turned to Nanamin for help. The blond adult essentially wiped his hands off about the situation by picking up Chito and retreating to the cat tree booths. Junpei mouthed the word 'traitor' at him, and he turned away with a bland expression on his face. 

“Hey,” Yuuji asked again, this time trying a different strategy. “Who gave you that charm? It’s cute.” 

Junpei brightened, “Right? Senpai gave it to me when he came back from one of his overseas missions and he said it reminded him of me and— oh, fuck.” 

Yuuji raised an impassive eyebrow, “Which senpai was it? He must like you a lot to buy you something that reminds him of you.” 

Junpei fidgeted, playing with the charm and desperately trying to avoid eye contact with Yuuji. He crossed his arms and leaned against the counter, raised both brows, and waited. 

Any minute now. 

“It was Okkotsu-senpai!” Junpei confessed, face redder than the royal sovereign strawberries that he had imported weekly. Yuuji blinked, then tipped his head back, eyes glued to the ceiling as he wracked his head, trying to remember if Junpei ever mentioned him.

Oh, yes he did. 

“The boy with the sword? And the white sweater?” Yuuji checked. 

Junpei nodded shyly. 

Yuuji hummed, leaning against the counter. Okkotsu Yuuta was an interesting guy. Junpei mentioned that the boy was a Special Grade Sorcerer because he had cursed a childhood friend into staying with him after she had died right in front of him, his desire for her to stay with him and subsequent rejection of her death so strong that she turned into a Special Grade Curse. He had grown up alone and isolated from their peers as a consequence. 

When he had been found by the Jujutsu world, he had been sentenced to death. It was only because of some massive attack that had occurred that his execution sentence had been lifted, due to his pivotal role in fighting and going toe to toe with the main instigator of the fight. Or so Junpei said, though Yuuji knew that the boy wasn't one to blindly believe people.

So chances were, Okkotsu’s energy was not just pouring out of him but that Okkotsu could be one of the few people that could go toe to toe with Yuuji as well. Not that Junpei would agree, with his adamant insistence that Yuuji was the strongest person he'd ever met. 

Yuuji thought that he and Okkotsu might've gotten along, in another world, if Yuuji had allowed himself to be found, both having powerful curses attached to them. Although, because of Yuuji's status as the vessel to the King of Curses, his execution would've been immediate, or he could've negotiated to prologue his death if he had done what Okkotsu had done, who had proven that he was loyal to the sorcerers, so allowed to live.

But Yuuji hadn’t, and he wasn’t even supposed to exist! The Jujutsu world didn't even know he existed! He was a wild card and practically unpredictable. To the elders of the sorcerer world, that wasn’t ideal, and so Yuuji hid in plain sight, according to Sukuna anyway, but most of the time Yuuji took the curse's words with a grain of salt. 

To hide away, Yuuji learned to temper his cursed energy flow into a small trickle, disguising the flow as his bloodstream, imbuing random objects with it, and using others' energy as a shield. Sukuna, immediately after securing their Binding Vow, had explained that if he were found out, he’d either be used as a container and be killed after consuming all of the fingers, or be killed right away. 

Yuuji did not agree with either of those options. Neither did Sukuna. 

Yuuji had heard Nanamin complain enough about them to know that they would order his execution on the spot. "Cruel bastards that they are," Nanamin would often say. 

But that was neither here nor there so instead Yuuji kissed his teeth and uncrossed his arms. 

“And he doesn’t dare to ask me first? The nerve on boys now.” he sniffed hauntingly. “Back in my day, the boyfriend would first build a friendship instead of diving headfirst into a relationship. And he would have to ask permission from me to date you.” 

Junpei made a mournful noise that was still somehow completely mortified, turning to Nanamin in a last bid to try and find some help on his end. The blond man completely shot him down by uncharacteristically burying his face in Chito’s thick coat. 

“When I ruled, a suitor had to first ask the guardian of his future spouse for permission to court them. It spoke of his commitment to value and treasure as well as the respect he had for the bride and their family. That insolent child sneaked his affections for this one. How little he must think of you.” Sukuna sneered. "We must rectify this blunder. I suggest we take his life to restore our slighted honor." 

Yuuji raised a mental eyebrow, trust Sukuna to demand life and blood from a perceived slight, no matter how unrelated the matter was to him, “I’m not killing a kid for not knowing I don’t exist, weirdo.” 

“Pity.” 

Yuuji sighed, placed a hand on Junpei’s head, and then wrapped him up in a hug. Junpei leaned into his shoulder instinctively, if a bit confused. He was still so small, even at seventeen years old he barely came up to Yuuji’s shoulder. Short and lean, he relied on his shikigami to fight for him, despite Yuuji’s desire for the boy to take up some type of hand-to-hand fighting. 

Distantly he wondered what type of person Okkotsu was. If he was the type to push his juniors to be better or if he was content to allow them to become stagnant. Was Okkotsu the type to lay his life down for his precious ones or was he the first to turn tail and flee? 

It was times like these that Yuuji almost wished he had revealed himself to the jujutsu world if only to make sure that the characters that surrounded Junpei on a daily basis were good people. 

He looked at Junpei again, whose cheeks were still dusted with the pale pink that adorned the morning skies. He sighed quietly, coming to a decision he poked Junpei’s cheek and smiled at the squawk the teenager let out.  

“Bring him around sometime. I wanna meet the guy who has my kid blushing like a preteen, alright? And tell me how it happened exactly next time.” 

Junpei nodded, heading towards the door in a not-quite-escaping run. Nanamin, having sensed the conversation over, began heading towards the exit as well. Yuuji saw them out to the car, which was parked half a block away, for some fucking reason. 

Weirdo sorcerers. 

“Oh hey, there are the two girls again,” he murmured to Sukuna, passing the two girls who didn’t even try to act like they weren’t watching his every move. They'd been watching him for nearly to years now, if they didn't make a move soon he wouldn't be responsible for what Sukuna might do. 

“They've been watching us for the past twenty minutes, you pest.” 

“Should we invite them in?”

“Foolish vessel!” 

Yuuji winced, “Yikes, objectification. Alright, then we’ll pretend we aren’t seeing them.” 

✻

Gojo stalked through the long halls, his shoes barely making a sound, though they were the only sounds in the building.

The dreary corridors always reminded him of the ancestral estate where he grew up, dead quiet and still as a cemetery. His lip curled at the thought of having to interact with people who belonged there already, perfectly straight white teeth flashing just as his brow furrowed in aggravation, though it smoothed out a moment later, his refusal to let the elders see him uncomfortable winning over his desire to express his displeasure. 

Quietly he sighed, hand on the doorknob, why does he still have to answer to bastards who were living on borrowed time? Why did he even agree to come in the first place? 

Blond hair and stern eyes flashed through his mind. 

Ah, right, Nanami had bribed him with the elusive cookies he had started bringing ever since Junpei had been enrolled. The boy had requested that he be allowed to work at some bakery and Nanami had even called in a favor Gojo owed him to make it happen. 

He’d been pestering Junpei and Nanami about it ever since, but the pair were strangely tight-lipped about it. Could he easily follow them and find out where Junpei worked? Yes, but he figured the pair would come clean about where the bakery is in time. There was no hurry. 

A voice, muffled by the door, called out to him, “Gojo Satoru.” 

Fucking bastards and their boners for acting omnipotent. His already dark mood plummeted further. 

Gojo grunted, turning the knob and slouching his way into the cold circular room, “What?” 

“Insolent, irreverent boy!” another voice snarled, echoed by the curved walls and high ceiling made specifically for that action. “You forget your place!” 

Gojo scoffed, waving a hand through the air, “You called for me didn’t you?” 

There was murmured dissent, hissed threats, and words that stopped scaring him long before his voice had broken into the mature baritones of adulthood. This disgruntlement continued for longer than Gojo liked, and he was once again reminded why he hated dealing with the elders, obnoxiously whiny bastards that they were. 

Annoyed, Gojo let his cursed energy burst forward, Infinity spreading to push against the flimsy screens they hid behind.

“I won’t be repeating myself. What do you want?” he snapped, once he could practically taste their unease in the air. 

Despite the underlying shakiness in their voice, one said, “There are reports that Ryoumen Sukuna’s fingers have gone missing at an alarming amount the past two years, thirteen of the twenty to be exact. As well as rumors that there are more unregistered Special-Grade curses. Much like the one Yoshino Junpei had been in cohorts with before he came to us.” 

“And this is important because...?” Gojo asked dubiously. 

The same voice continued, this time smugly cruel and condescending, they just don’t learn do they? 

“It would be a shame if anything were to happen to your students should they ever come into contact with one of these spirits. Yoshino Junpei was a flight risk at the beginning—” 

“Where are you going with this?” Gojo interrupted, dangerously quiet. The smug feel in the air dissipated at once. Good, they should know better than to attempt to slander his students.  

Junpei had once mentioned that he was manipulated by a Special Grade curse that could distort the human soul upon physical touch before his enrollment, and that the curse itself had taught him rudimentary skills in sorcery. This had caused an uproar among the major clans when the news broke out, the Zen’in clan had demanded the boy die, whilst the Kamo clan had proposed he be observed. 

“A flight risk,” they had murmured. (They did not and will never know how close Gojo had been to go through with declaring a feud with them that day and decimating their ranks.) 

Gojo himself, as head of the Gojo clan, had petitioned for the boy, and Nanami had casually mentioned that the boy had won the favor of the heir of the elusive Berserkers clan. That tidbit had calmed down a majority of the naysayers, unwilling to go against one of, if not the oldest— and most infamous— clan, no matter how distant and removed they were from the jujutsu world as a whole. 

The elders suspected that there was something more to the boy than there met the eye. Why did the boy pop up so suddenly? And where was the curse that had taught him? Privately, Gojo asked the same questions, but he loathed to admit he was just as inquisitive about Junpei's past as the elders, and so said nothing to the boy. 

That and the kid was so closed off he made Fushiguro seem like an open book. The only reason Junpei had spoken to Gojo at all, in the beginning, was Nanami’s doing. The man had introduced Gojo as the strongest sorcerer and someone who would be able to protect him while he found his footing. 

“Where are you going with this?” he asked. If these old geezers didn’t tell him what they wanted, he would— 

It was best not to go down that train of thought, he’d get too lost in his head and miss whatever the elders said. 

“You must find Ryoumen Sukuna’s fingers and retrieve them from wherever they may be. In the off chance that there is a vessel, subdue or kill it and exorcise the curse.” 

Gojo sighed but said nothing as he turned on his heel and walked out of the damned meeting room, waving a hand and nod of agreement. Better to let them think he’d do it of his own free will than let them wrangle a Binding Vow out of him. He walked through the long darkened halls silently, brooding over the information they had so graciously imparted. More unregistered Special Grades? A potential vessel for the Ryoumen Sukuna?

He wondered if Yuuta would be up for another mission, not a physical battle one, no. The fourth-year had just come back from a particularly grueling mission, and Gojo did care about his students, despite his careless facade. Perhaps he should send Yuuta on a reconnaissance mission perhaps with Junpei, as backup? Yuuta was disciplined enough to be able to balance both challenges, for sure. 

Gojo himself would have to take care of Ryoumen Sukuna, because as powerful as Yuuta was, he was still susceptible to exhausting himself, especially if he was fighting with his peers. 

He wondered absently if he should ask Junpei if the curse he had interacted with had any known allies, before promptly discarding that train of thought, Nanami would genuinely try to murder him if he asked Junpei about such matters. Gojo was also reluctant to have Junpei relive that dark time simply because Gojo didn't want to go through all the trouble himself. 

“Gojo-sensei?” 

Immediately breaking away from his train of thought, Gojo focused on Yuuta, he brightened and threw one hand over the teenager’s shoulders. 

“Yuuta-kun! Just the person I was thinking about!” he said cheerfully, dragging the boy with him, ”Say what do you think about going on a mission with Junpei? I was just informed that some Special Grade curses have not been registered nor exorcised. Whaddya think? A little alone time with your close friend would be good, no?” 

Yuuta blinked, trying to process everything Gojo had just said, then his cheeks burst into color when he realized what Gojo was suggesting. Ah, young love.  

“I don’t know, uh— Does Junpei know about this?” 

Gojo laughed, patting Yuuta’s head. “Ah to be young again. Nothing concrete yet, I need to scope out the level of difficulty. Besides, if I do end up sending you two on a mission, it’ll be more of reconnaissance than actual fighting, for Junpei’s sake mostly. Nanami said his legal guardian is super protective of him. ” 

Yuuta turned his head towards Gojo so quickly that he was sure that his neck had cracked. The look on his face was pure unadulterated fear and it would have Gojo snickering for years to come. 

“But I thought Nanami-san was his legal guardian?” Yuuta asked. 

Gojo snort-giggled, tugging Yuuta along, “Nope! Nanami is his secondary guardian. I’ve never met the guy but Nanami says that he’s pretty up-to-date about everything and very protective about Junpei.” 

Yuuta paused, “He’s a sorcerer?” 

Gojo shook his head, “No, he’s the one that the elders wanted to bring into the fold. The one from the Berserkers clan.” 

“From the Berserkers clan?” Yuuta was pushed into the waiting car, going easily as he waited for the older man to answer. "What's the Berserkers clan?"  

“Sometimes I forget you don’t know some of this stuff.” Gojo sighed, sliding into the car as well, “Okay, so the short answer is the Berserkers clan was one of the most famous, or infamous depending on who you're asking, clan known in the Jujutsu world. They were extremely secretive, with physical strength so great that oftentimes they would forego cursed energy just to use their bare hands to rip apart curses. We had the clan leader reach out to us back when the elders themselves were still in action. In his prime, it was said that he could take down three Grade One's at a time and come out relatively unscathed. That guy died a couple of years ago and his grandson is the one Nanami made contact with. ” 

“And the grandson is Junpei’s guardian?” Yuuta sounded very concerned, then he did the math and frowned. “But that's skipping a generation. What happened to his parents? And is the grandson a sorcerer?” 

Gojo lolled his head back onto the headrest, “No one really knows, but rumor has it that the mother was either driven to insanity or suicide and that for some reason she took her husband with her. Left the kid an orphan, and left the father-in-law, the clan leader, to raise him. The grandson isn't a sorcerer, as far as Nanami could tell."  

"Were they sorcerers?" 

Gojo looked out through the window contemplatively, eyes far away, "Yeah, but they didn't enroll in the school because they came to us as adults. I don't remember much about them to be honest, we never worked together." 

"But aren't sorcerers supposed to be able to withstand mental torture?" 

"Ah," Gojo smiled at him, "Only if the person isn't already incapacitated." 

Yuuta blinked, bewildered. Gojo understood him very well, when he found out about the news he immediately made himself put it in the back of his mind, too many inconsistencies in the story rendered it unbelievable, but he was unwilling to touch that mess with a forty-foot pole. Gojo hid a shudder, sorcerer family politics was complicated and he broke out in hives whenever he thought about it.

“So how old is he? The grandson I mean?” 

Gojo shrugged, “Older than you, probably. He might be older than me too, I didn’t check. Nanami knows, ask him next time you see him. Hey, Ijichi, drop us off right here.” 

“I— What?” Ijichi looked at him through the rear-view mirror but flinched when he saw Gojo’s expression.

“Drop us off here. Tell Yaga we’ll be back before nightfall.” Gojo opened the car door and beckoned Yuuta to follow him.  

Gojo slammed the door and waved at Ijichi in clear dismissal. He turned back to Yuuta and caught his eye. Yuuta nodded in acknowledgment, his sword already unsheathed and at his side.  

“By the lake, there’s two,” he said simply. “I think they’re waiting for us.” 

“Which one do I take?” 

Gojo laughed, how considerate of him!

“Whichever you see first.” 

✻

“Brat,” Sukuna murmured, during the week when Junpei had gone to Kyoto. “Look.” 

Yuuji glanced at the inside of his bakery, the two girls who had been watching him for two years had finally gone inside, and he sighed mournfully. Why couldn’t people respect the fact that he just wanted one day of peace? Just one Tuesday is all he’s asking for. “I know. Wanna switch out?” 

“Enchain.” 

Yuuji felt himself fall back into his own body and found himself in Sukuna’s mindscape. He puttered around, poking around the rocks he knew Sukuna lounged on more often than not. Then he retrieved some skulls from beneath Sukuna’s ostentatious throne and settled in to watch Sukuna scare some poor bastard curse into submission. 

“Hey,” he said. “Let me see.” 

Seeing was not exactly how it played out, Yuuji felt what Sukuna felt, and heard what the curse heard, but the whole seeing thing was like it played out in his head. Images of what occurred outside were directly deposited into his mind.

Once, they had switched Yuuji tried to find a way to open Sukuna’s second pair of eyes. It did work but Yuuji had a migraine for days, so they agreed it wasn’t worth the effort and decided that Sukuna would open his senses to let Yuuji see. 

Yuuji watched as Sukuna slowly approached the two girls. He frowned, the pair were so entrenched in a miasma of cursed energy that it sat heavily on his tongue. 

“Ugh,” Yuuji complained, smacking his lips, “That tastes worse than your fingers. Oh hey, be careful with whatever you do, think of the bakery.” 

“It’s Tuesday,” Sukuna grumbled. “No one should be inside anyway.” 

Yuuji tried very hard to suppress the silly smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth, Sukuna sounded surprisingly petulant. He couldn’t help himself, cooing, “What this? Is the double-faced Sukuna fond of something? Raise the alarms! He’s gone soft!” 

Sukuna snarled at him. “Do not think for a second that I have gone soft, foolish boy. I do not declaw myself for the sake of others.”  

Yuuji laughed, batting away the heavy oppressive feel of his cursed energy. 

“Pay attention!” Yuuji said, “I bet they have something really important to say.” 

“We wouldn’t be having this problem if you just let me eat them.” Sukuna snapped aloud. “But no, you want to act like a catholic and talk.” 

Yuuji sighed, leaning back on the flat rounded stones and cuddling one of the skulls to his chest. He stared at it tiredly, it did not react. “I can't believe I’m saying this— Sukuna, we don’t resort to cannibalism to get rid of people who annoy us. Generally, people start looking for them nowadays.” 

“It’s not cannibalism if I’m not even human, you fool.” 

“You’re in my human body. Ergo, cannibalism.” 

Sukuna made a disgusted noise. Yuuji stuck his tongue out and slipped it back into his mouth before the curse could slice it off. 

It’s happened before. 

“Sukuna-sama!” 

Oh? 

Yuuji pushed his senses closer, wordlessly demanding that Sukuna pay full attention, not that the arrogant king of curses needed any reminder, having already grown smug at the title. The pair watched as the girl with dark hair bowed her head and spoke, her tow-headed companion standing just behind her. “We come on behalf of our Master, he wishes to send a message through us.” 

Oh, huh.

That didn’t happen an awful lot. The two girls looked at each other nervously before continuing the aforementioned message. Yuuji took off a point for visible weakness; never enter negotiations and look visibly nervous when doing so. 

The speaker took a deep breath and began in a clear voice, “We want you to work with us.”

Yuuji made a mournful noise at the two girls at the same time that Sukuna’s fury bubbled over and sought to explode. 

“They didn’t even offer a finger to you,” he whispered conspiratorially to Sukuna, just for the shits and giggles.

He gleefully watched as Sukuna’s rage grew. Maybe it was cruel, to further infuriate Sukuna and cause even more distress to his victims but one didn’t live and share a body with the King of Curses and continue to have upstanding and shining morals. Besides, it was kinda stupid of them to make demands in that tone of voice, especially with Sukuna. The self-centered bastard hated any type of disrespect, though he got used to Yuuji’s brand of disrespect. But that was only because Yuuji was shpeshul.

So while they had scored some brownie points with the whole -sama thing, the demand they made wasn’t one that the curse would take with grace. 

Yuuji said nothing as he watched the girls fall to their knees under the onslaught of Sukuna’s malicious power. He let Sukuna bask in the feeling of superiority and vindicated pleasure.

Yuuji watched silently as the two girls gasped for air, idly wondering how old they were and if they’d never seen or felt such oppressive energy. They had mentioned a 'master' hadn't they? Surely their master would have warned them or at least acclimatized them to cursed energy like this? 

Probably not, he thought, with how they curled in on themselves and how one tried to reach for the phone peeking out of her pockets. Maybe it was mean, and perhaps he should have spoken up and eased Sukuna out of his wrath, having enough sway over the curse for his words to actually make a difference. 

But. 

He and Sukuna had co-existed for nearly three years now. The pair are not quite so intertwined that they don’t know which aspect is who, but Yuuji knows that it is merely a matter of time before they become so similar it will be nigh impossible to separate from each other.

And while Yuuji still believed that human lives are precious, it was not as pronounced as it was when he was seventeen, as much as he tried to say otherwise. Now he truly only treasured those close to his heart, those in his favor. 

He knew that it was partly because of Sukuna’s influence, but he also knew that his family was always very susceptible to apathy (and blind rage, but that was neither here nor there), a side effect of their supposed time as an exiled and at times exalted clan from some mumbo jumbo secret society shtick (read: the Jujutsu World). Well, that and his grandfather was a cold bastard who preached about the importance of keeping only a select few close to heart.

Yuuji supposed that the early death of his parents did nothing to endear his grandfather to good deeds and unnecessary goodwill. 

But case in point, Yuuji’s familiarity with how Sukuna thought and worked kept him from opening his mouth, knowing that if he stopped the curse, Sukuna would grumble about it for weeks. This would also keep him smug and feeling accomplished that he had once again pulled the wool over the sorcerer's eyes.

Yuuji himself was also a little bit frustrated about the constant staring into his bakery they had done, how they had not bothered to at least hide it, and making more than one patron pull him aside and ask him about it. He very quietly thought about the fact that their Vow kept Sukuna from outright killing the relatively innocent girls. So it wasn't like there weren't restrictions.

They'd be fine. 

Mostly.

“Your ten minutes are nearly up,” he said to Sukuna, “Did you really spend all that time just scaring them?”  

Sukuna said nothing but sent a general feeling of smug pride, not unlike Chito when she brought back a dead bird or when he would find Nyanko lovingly suffocating the female cat with his body. Sometimes Sukuna really does resemble an overgrown cat. 

Sukuna breathed in and Yuuji breathed out, back into his own body. He looked around, nobody had come running into the bakery and the cats had been trained to not mind the cursed energy. He looked down at the girls and smiled gently. 

Time to put on a show. 

“C’mon,” he said to the girls, gently coaxing them off the ground and to the high-seated booths, “We can talk more in-depth here. Sorry for not doing anything while Sukuna was here, the Vow doesn’t allow interference like that. Piece of advice though? Next time you want to demand something from Sukuna, bring something useful, like one of his fingers.” 

The two girls nodded shakily, following him like little ducklings. Yuuji again wondered who they were affiliated with, to be so trusting of a genial smile and closed eyes, even after Sukuna’s little hazing. They didn’t even ask where Yuuji was leading them to. 

“More like who raised them. These girls reek of curse users.” Sukuna observed. "Weak ones probably, or at least someone that did not wish for them to be exposed to the more malicious curses. What fools, they essentially dug these waifs' graves." 

Yuuji hummed, pulling out the chairs that faced the window, “Guess we’ll just have to find out.” 

“Okay,” he said out loud, “we both have questions and answers, but first, I’ll make some cookies to take your mind off whatever Sukuna did, alright?” 

The girls nodded.

Yuuji made a mental note to ask for their names, he was getting tired of referring to them as “the girls”. Vaguely, he wondered what Junpei was up to.

He wouldn’t like these two girls, he knew with certainty. Junpei would have a heart attack at the fact that they willingly chose to incapacitate themselves by having their backs to the window.

I’ll text him after this, he decided. He’ll be horrified. 

"Okay, so who's your... master? You said he was?" Yuuji asked, breaking the silence that had settled in the room after some minutes. "And what are your names? I'm Itadori Yuuji." 

The brunette spoke, Yuuji eyed the doll and noose she carried in her arms, "I'm Mimiko and this is Nanako, we used to work with a man called Geto Suguru, who raised us. We've been sent to ask that Ryoumen Sukuna ally with us for the New Golden Age of Curses." 

Yuuji's brow furrowed, hadn't Mahito mentioned something like that some years ago? 

"Why is everyone obsessed with this new age shit," He groused to Sukuna, "What do you think?" 

"A new golden age for curses sounds tempting," Sukuna admitted readily. "Yet, I have seen the rise and fall of kingdoms. I was feared throughout the land and I killed for pleasure. I tore the skies apart and let the heavens spill out and gorged myself on the grace that came forth. I live only for my pleasure and displeasure. None are as conceited and proud as I. For this, it will take more than honeyed words to obtain my allegiance, and I will not bend the knee to a child. Much less one who has already been defeated and pronounced dead." 

"A simple no would have been enough, jackass." 

But Sukuna mentioned a dead child? Yuuji looked at the pair, "You said used to, past tense. What happened?" 

This time, Nanako, the blonde one, spoke up. "He was killed almost four years ago. And he came back, but he came back wrong and he wasn't the same man who raised us. His ideals are different now and he spends more time with that cult and the curses than with us. He doesn't even realize that we no longer see each other daily." 

Somehow, Yuuji just knew that there was some fuck shit going on there. He sighed, this wasn't something he wanted to be involved in.

He was just a bakery owner damn it! Let him bake in peace!  

"But your stray jellyfish is a sorcerer," Sukuna said slyly. "Would you not tear the world apart for him?" 

Sukuna has a point, Yuuji's mind reluctantly admitted. Damn it all. "That's different, though." 

"Is it?" 

"Look girls, I've said this already, not to you, but to someone similar. I don't want to involve myself in business that is not my own." He handed a black box of cookies and two cups of expresso coffee to the girls. "If anything, these cookies are an apology to your imposter master, tell him to not bother me. I'm a bakery owner, not an ally." 

The girls took the bag and before they left Yuuji whispered something to the girls. They had stared at him with big moon eyes, before smiling and running off and getting lost in the crowd. 

"Were those the arsenic cookies you were making?" Sukuna asked incredulously.

Yuuji sniffed, refusing to be shamed, "Indeed. What of it?" 

Sukuna sighed but said nothing even as amusement drifted from him through their mind. Hopefully, the girls realized that the cookies were not edible and were a very lazy effort to kill the man, if anything they could claim plausible deniability should it not work out.

If not, well, Yuuji has washed his hands of the situation, whatever happens, happens.  

✻

“Hey, Junpei, catch,” Kugisaki dropped some boxes into his hands unexpectedly, pulling him out of his thoughts as he reached out to steady the tower of shopping bags.  

“You grabbed Gojo-sensei’s credit card again?” he asked, staring at the boxes of candies that only a madman like their teacher would genuinely enjoy. Junpei squinted at the logo of one of the boxes: special edition vanilla bubblegum cookies. 

Gojo-sensei was truly a strange man and Junpei would go to the grave with the fact that he (unfortunately) considered the man a father figure, if a very non-traditional one.

Kugisaki huffed, tossing her hair to the side as she flipped open her wallet and took out a black card to wave around in his face, “No, the walking irritation walked up to me yesterday and said that he had some meeting to attend to and that I was ‘hereby in charge of finding and buying snacks.' I was in the middle of falling practice!” 

Junpei hummed, looking up to stare at her in quiet amusement. “You’d think you would get the hang of falling after two years, no?” 

“That’s because Panda-senpai found her raiding the pantry at midnight,” Fushiguro walked up to them, hands in his pockets and a bland expression on his face. “Inumaki-senpai says he got a really good photo of her drinking orange juice with chocolate stains all around her mouth and that he’s using that as blackmail to get her to do whatever he wants for a couple of days.” 

Kugisaki smiled, an irked twitch to her lips being the only warning she gave before she began to mercilessly jab Fushiguro's side with her pointy fingers. “Why are you only talkative when you start talking shit? Huh?” 

Junpei laughed, easily falling into the familiar role of playful instigator in the trio. “So that's why I heard him asking Inumaki-san for a copy of the pictures.” 

Fuhsiguro groaned, throwing a half-hearted glare at Junpei while batting Kugisaki’s hands away. “You two are terrible, terrible people, and I want a refund on friends.” 

Junpei and Kugisaki froze in their tracks, causing Fushiguro to stare at them with concern before he stiffened then groaned, loud and agonized. The pair exchanged smarmy grins and redoubled their efforts.

Kugisaki cooed at him. “Aww, Fushiguro-kun! I had no idea you were so fond of us! My heart is full of joy and peace now! I can feel our friendship strengthening this instant!”

Junpei snickered and made fawning noises to accompany Kugisaki’s teasing. He pointed out Fushiguro’s pink-tinted cheeks to Kugisaki and she jumped at the chance to photograph his embarrassment. 

“Uh, you guys..?” 

The trio jumped, heads whipping towards the source of the voice, Maki-senpai stared at them, unimpressed with the rest of the fourth-years behind her, except for Panda, who hadn't been allowed in public spaces since the Incident™. Immediately they straightened up like they weren’t just acting like fools in public, any shame they possessed was long burned away by being around Gojo for far too long. 

Fushiguro waved a hand in a casual greeting as if he hadn't been accosted by his friends, making Yuuta and Maki blink in bewilderment. Inumaki-san simply waved back and tugged Kugisaki towards a store. Junpei blinked up at the name and frowned, 

“Wait no, not that one,” he called out, stopping the pair in their tracks. Inumaki-san tilted his head in askance and Junpei shrugged, “The clothes look nice but the fabric rips after like three wears and they don’t use pure cashmere, just a knockoff version of it.” 

“...Yoshino, that’s a luxury brand,” Maki-senpai said at length. “It’s the type of store Gojo would buy from. How do you know that?” 

“I’ve… gotten clothes from there...?” he ventured cautiously. 

Kugisaki reached forward to shake him amidst the group's astonishment, crying out in shock, “What do you mean you’ve bought from there?” 

Junpei flushed, “Okay, so remember when I mentioned that Nanami was only my secondary guardian?” 

They all nodded, it was common knowledge that should jujutsu students be orphaned at the time of their enrollment, both the principal and any faculty would adopt the student. Should one of the guardians die, the secondary guardian would care for the student until they reached legal age. Junpei having a primary legal guardian who was not a sorcerer was almost unheard of. 

They were endlessly curious about his situation but did not ask out of respect for the then first-year boy with haunted eyes in obvious mourning. Now though, they might get their answers. 

“How does this correlate with the fact that you’ve been to that store?” Fushiguro pointed out, earning a smack from Kugisaki who hissed at him to shut the fuck up! 

“He’s, um, from a ridiculously old and rich family?” Junpei rushed out to explain, “He doesn’t really use his money except to import stupid expensive fruits for his bakery and also for, uh, retail therapy?” 

Kugisaki squinted at him but nodded in approval at the ‘retail therapy’ part while Maki-senpai sighed in exasperation, “Are you asking us, or are you telling us?” 

Junpei blinked but laughed, “Telling you guys! He’s stupid rich and he could probably buy half of all the luxury brands there are and still be rich enough to live comfortably three times over. It’s kind of ridiculous, actually.” 

Junpei spied Yuuta trying to become paler than snow and was vaguely worried, but Inumaki-san was there patting him on his back, so Junpei figured he’d be fine. 

“Can we meet him?” Kugisaki's eyes gleamed at the chance to meet Junpei’s mysterious and rich guardian. 

“No. Absolutely not, ” Junpei said sharply, then kept his body language open and sure, just like Yuuji had taught him to when he wanted to spin a believable lie, “He doesn't want to be involved in the jujutsu world and I respect his wishes. Besides, he’s a bakery owner, so he’d probably be too busy to entertain you guys.” 

“But—” Kugisaki started to protest. 

“Ah, ah, ah! Kugisaki, remember that talk about respecting your peers’ boundaries?” Gojo-sensei appeared from somewhere behind him, throwing a hand over Junpei’s shoulder and waving an admonishing finger at the girl, “Even if we are terribly curious about the identity of Junpei’s primary caretaker, and let me tell you Junpei, I am so curious about who he is. Actually, are you sure he doesn’t want to meet us? We can arrange a day off and—” 

“Sensei! I’m very sure, Yuu— he would say something if he wanted to meet you guys,” Junpei quickly assured his teacher, worried that if he didn’t cut off the older man, they’d be forced to take a detour and Junpei would have to beat his teacher away from his pseudo-older brother/parental figure with a stick and Orizuki. 

“Can we at least see a picture of him?” Kugisaki wheedled, whilst everyone else watched on in interest, or in Fushiguro’s case, poorly disguised interest. Junpei nodded, already in the process of digging out his phone before pausing in his tracks and turning sheepishly towards the group, smiling sheepishly. 

“I, uh, don’t exactly have… good photos of him,” he said haltingly. Oh sure, he had photos of Yuuji, but they were all either in unattractive angles or had him half asleep in strange positions and shirtless, and Junpei has seen those Twitter threads dedicated to K-pop idols with similar builds to Yuuji’s. 

There are things teenage boys should not want to subject their parental figures to and thirsty people on the internet and in real life are one of them.

“Trust me,” he said. “You don't wanna see them.” 

Please take the bluff, he silently begged. 

Gojo-sensei squinted at him, or at least Junpei thought he did, with the blindfold obscuring the man’s eyes from view. Miraculously, the man let it go and began to herd the teenagers in a different direction, swiping his card from Kugisaki and declaring that he would buy them one article of clothing from his favorite store. From the look on Maki-senpai’s face, Junpei doubted that it would be the great adventure Gojo-sensei was making it out to be. 

When Gojo-sensei dragged them all over to some brand that Yuuji did like, he figured he would get something nice for him, when something caught his eye. An embroidered black-red mesh top that hung off the shoulders, marketed towards women. 

I want it.  

“Junpei?” Yuuta came to a stop a few paces away, once he realized that the younger boy had stopped walking and was looking at a display, looking lost. Hesitatingly, he placed a hand on the small of Junpei’s back. “What’s wrong?” 

Junpei blinked, the cool press of his upperclassman's hand against him back bringing him back to the present. “...Nothing, senpai. Just got lost in my own thoughts, I guess." 

Yuuta kept his hand on Junpei’s back, slightly smiling at the shorter boy. “That’s okay, come on, let’s see if we can convince Gojo-san to let us get two pieces instead of one, yeah?” 

Junpei turned to smile at him, expression still a bit lost. “Alright, that sounds fun.” 

As the pair walked away, Junpei shot one last look at the top, then turned away. He could panic about this when he got back to Yuuji. 

Later. 

✻

Nyanko, Junpei observed, looked very much like Gojo-sensei, and acted like him too. Insufferably smug about anything and everything, and very, very attention-seeking. He watched as the white cat pawed at Yuuji, meowing pathetically as if he were neglected and starving instead of having a doting and loving owner. 

Idly, he played with Chito’s gold collar (bought at Sukuna’s insistence, he knew, Nyanko had a Swarovski-encrusted diamond collar because for all the curse liked to gripe about not liking any type of animal, his pride would not allow him to keep the cats from not showing signs of superior status) as he watched Yuuji prepare the macaroons for the special house treat. 

Well, here goes nothing, he thought to himself, very strongly ignoring the ball of anxiety that threatened to overwhelm his throat and keep him silent and scared forever, “Hey, Yuuji?” 

“Hm?” the pink-haired male turned his head to the side slightly, eyes on the task of dipping the cookies into the melted chocolate. 

“Is it— is it weird to want to wear women’s clothes?” Might as well get it out in a rush. If he couldn’t trust Yuuji with this, who could he trust? Yuuji’s hands paused as he contemplated the question, and the pit in Junpei’s stomach swelled even as the words spilled out of his mouth, ashamed and hurt already. “Actually, you know what? Never mind, that’s— that’s a stupid question. Forget I said anything, it’s wrong and weird and nasty—” 

“Compared to me, Sukuna is hyper-masculine.” Yuuji’s voice broke him out of his thoughts, and Junpei’s head shot up. Yuuji continued blithely as if his words weren’t like a balm to Junpei’s very being. “It was kinda weird at first, having an entity that was so obviously masculine and making me realize that my relationship with my gender wasn’t as strong as I thought it was. But then I began to experiment with clothing and how I present myself and I realized that I don't think of myself as a man, really. Or a woman. I'm just me, Yuuji.”  

They stood there for a long time, letting the words hang in the air as Junpei processed what Yuuji had said. Yuuji turned around, smiling with his eyes open and understanding.

Junpei liked Yuuji’s open-eyed smile because those were the ones that made his eyes crinkle in the corner and softened the angles of his jaw and made the scar that peeked out from under his ear disappear.

His closed-eye smiles were for when he needed to lie or when he had a mask of fake cheer on. Those smiles were never directed at Junpei though, and he was glad for it because he might cry if he ever gets on in his direction. 

“I realized that I don’t necessarily care about being a male or fulfilling the stereotypical masculine role of a man or even being seen as a male. So I guess I understand where you’re coming from. Wanting to wear clothes that are traditionally seen as women’s clothes might be a challenge in public, but I won’t judge you for it,” Yuuji was saying, he reached over to ruffle Junpei’s hair, before finishing. “Also, my ass and shoulders look amazing in a skirt and halter top. So don’t worry kid. You’ll be alright.” 

Junpei laughed in relief, and if his eyes were a little watery Yuuji didn't mention it, simply poking his cheek and pushing a bowl of egg whites for him to whip up.

Yeah, Junpei decided, if he couldn't trust Yuuji, he couldn't trust anyone. 

Chapter Text

“They what?!” 

Junpei looked up from his (questionable) English homework— given to him by Gojo-sensei, who decided to be to be the supposed English teacher he (falsely) claimed to be— to glance at Yuuji’s perplexed expression. The older male waved him off with an easy smile, mouthing ‘importing troubles’ and ‘focus on your homework' before turning back to the phone. Junpei made a face at Yuuji’s back but dutifully turned back to his homework, trying to figure out what conjunction verb was. 

...Right after he answered his phone, which buzzed right as he picked up his pencil. Languages were fake anyway. People just made noise in their mouths and sometimes it was different. 

Junpei opened his phone, furtively stealing a glance at Yuuji to make sure his back was turned. He stared at the messages and then slowly put his phone back down. Figuring out conjunction verbs were easier to deal with than a determined Kugisaki. 

From Kugisaki Nobara: (15:49)

  hey coward when are we gonna meet find out where you work

also where should we go after the graduation ceremony? Maki-san and them still dont know where to go

To Kugisaki Nobara: (15:51) 

i dont know how you want me to respond to that

ask fushiguro, im trying to finish the sheet gojo gave us 

From that point, it quickly devolved into playful teasing and griping about unfair and unnecessary work material and soon the two were making plans to go shopping once again. A tap on his shoulder brought Junpei’s attention back to Yuuji, who nodded at his still-blank worksheet. 

“Isn’t that worksheet the type of stuff they give to middle schoolers?” he asked. Junpei blinked, then looked at the paper.

“Oh.” he said, “I think it is.” What the fuck Gojo-sensei, he thought. 

“Are you done? I want to make sure you haven’t been slacking on that shoulder release.” Yuuji said, cheerfully patting Junpei’s shoulder. Translation: I am going to hit you hard and heavy and require that you maintain a loose stance while shouting helpful things at you, lovingly; because I care for you. 

What the fuck Yuuji, he thought. “I can just search this up later tonight, we can go now,” is what he said instead. (He would later regret the decision, but for now, he was naive and young and eager to leave behind English homework.)   

“Cool, grab the cats’ carrier and let me close up.” 

After closing up for the night, the pair meandered down the street toward Yuuji’s apartment. Stopping by the konbini for some onigiri and milk bread, they let the cats out of their carriers to play in the plants while they finished their snacks. 

“You’re staying the whole weekend right?” Yuuji asked after calling Nyanko back to his carrier, Chito already curled up and bundled up in her soft burgundy blanket. 

“Yup,” he said, popping the ‘p’’. “I’ll be able to help you all day Saturday and Sunday.” Junpei was to stay over for the weekend since Gojo let them have it off due to some extra-long mission he had been assigned overseas. Because Junpei was the only one who had a place to stay outside of the school, he was allowed to leave the grounds on account that Nanami would check in daily.

This really just meant that Junpei would send a daily ‘Good Morning’ text to Nanami and the man would send a thumbs-up emoji back. It never failed to make Junpei giggle at the thought of Nanami regularly using emojis for their intended use. He and Yuuji would often drive themselves into stitches at the thought of Nanami using the emojis for their intended use and not the bastardization that was prevalent in social media. 

“Oh good,” Yuuji said teasingly, “I need someone to go get the good blueberries at Tokuda-san’s store tomorrow morning.” 

Junpei groaned, and he continued to whine until they got to Yuuji's house. He laughed as Yuuji dropped his keys twice before finally being able to open the front door. Yuuji flicked him on the forehead, making sure to use the sharp points to lightly scratch him. Junpei was ushered through the doorway and told to go change and freshen up. 

Junpei let the cats out of their carriers, and while he put the carriers into their cupboards, he felt a spike in Yuuji’s carefully regulated cursed energy. The pattern pulsed steady and lethargic, Sukuna's presence bleeding out and raising the hairs on Junpei's arms.

Sukuna seemed to have opened a mouth in Yuuji’s body, and even from his position on the stairs, he could hear the baritone of the curse speaking. Junpei left before the conversation became audible, the pair had been arguing lately, and more often than not, Yuuji would slip into Tohoku-ben in response to Sukuna's ancient dialect. 

Junpei’s relationship with the curse was near nonexistent, except for the times that Sukuna decided that he did in fact, exist and then the curse would berate Junpei for his form and complain about how low sorcerers have fallen in the time he had been gone. 

“Jun! I’ll be on the roof, come up when you’re ready okay?” Yuuji’s voice brought him out of his reverie. He blinked, slightly startled that he had taken so long on the stairs. 

He called back his agreement, entered his room, and immediately flopped onto his bed. He laid immobile for some minutes, gently suffocating himself in the criminally soft pillows he begged Yuuji to get, groaning miserably when Nyanko jumped on his back and began pawing at his head. 

The cat meowed placidly and began to knead his neck. Junpei whined, reaching back and trying to bat him away, it had been some time since Nyanko's last grooming, and the white cat was probably relishing his new scratch post. Chito, seemingly summoned by her companion’s yowls, jumped up onto the bed and settled near Junpei’s head, purring quietly and grooming herself. Junpei watched her for a couple of seconds, trying to figure out what she was going to do. Chito stared back at him balefully, tawny eyes unblinking and entirely too intelligent.  

“I’m glad Yuuji decided to take away you guys' ability to make babies," he muttered. "We don’t need more tiny Chito and Nyanko’s running around.”

When Chito chirruped and began to groom his hair, Junpei took that as his cue to actually get up and go to the roof with Yuuji. Nyanko cried his disapproval when he was pushed aside, and he lay in Junpei’s bed sheets like he had been cast out in a cold wet night to fend for himself. 

Junpei stared at Nyanko. Nyanko stared back, blue eyes wide and wounded. “You’re spoiled,” he informed the cat. “Both of you are.” 

He said as much to Yuuji, when he finally joined him on the roof. Yuuji laughed, “So are you. The three of you get the same smug look when your stuff comes in the mail.” 

Junpei had slid into a defensive stance, petulantly sticking his tongue out in lieu of responding. Yuuji’s smile widened, teeth bone white and glinting in the dark; Junpei stamped down on the instinctual spike of terror with long practiced ease, readied his feet, and closed his eyes. 

They would only be a hindrance right now. 

Instead, he focused on the slow trickle of cursed energy that was Yuuji’s signature, spreading out his senses and half summoning Orizuki. A trick he nabbed from watching Fushiguro come up with his shadow weapon storing trick-thing. If Junpei opened his eyes, he knew that Orizuki’s tentacles would be half-translucent and emerging from his body, floating around him as if underwater.

This method had no use in combat, Orizuki’s poison was weak and near useless; more focused on feeling out its surroundings than attempting to pump its target full of burning poison. 

Junpei took a deep breath, lungs expanding and for a second he saw.  

The world was alight in cursed energy, spirits flowing and flying, walking and running, alive and terrible. Bone-chilling and awe-inspiring in their strength and might, brimming with activity. He breathed out, and the world lost its brilliance, bright lights extinguished and snuffed out, the miasma of negativity hiding just out of reach. Except for… 

Junpei opened his eyes and let his knees buckle, allowing Orizuki’s tentacles to fully form and whip forward. With one hand braced behind him on the ground, he stared at Yuuji’s bright yellow eyes, face inches away from his own. 

Terrible grins slashed across both their faces as they breathed the same air for two tense heartbeats. Minds whirling with strategies and ways to subdue the other. Yuuji tightened his hold on Orizuki’s tentacle, and Junpei dug a hand alight in cursed energy deeper into his ribs.

Then, they ripped apart, each crouched on opposing end of the roof top, watching the other. 

Waiting for an opening, a weakness, a falter. 

“Come here, little jellyfish,” Yuuji crooned. His nails were in their natural state, long and curled, hands poised as if to tear his flesh from his bones. “Show me what you have learned.” 

Yuuji lunged forward and Junpei met him halfway. Junpei jabbed at his left kidney, Yuuji deflected the blow with his forearm, elbow pointed at his face, his right hand coming in at an uppercut. 

Junpei grabbed the hand, the sharp nails pointed right at his jugular. He stared at the nails and then at Yuuji. “Are you serious?” He groused. 

Yuuji grinned, then tore his hands from Junpei’s grip and dropped, sweeping a leg out to make him fall. Junpei hit the floor hard, he stared at Yuuji with narrowed eyes. Throwing his hand out, Orizuki's tentacle shot past him, forcing Yuuji back to buy him time to situate himself again. 

Gojo-sensei isn’t this off-putting in training. Junpei thought idly, getting back up. Another part of him whispered, Gojo-sensei also isn’t a vessel for what is arguably the most powerful curse to ever exist. His attention is also split between like eight people, so. 

“Pay attention to your opponent, Jun. A moment’s distraction could spell your death. A lion starves if he does not watch where he steps.” Yuuji’s voice was too close, and before Junpei could do anything other than turn his head, his back met the hard ground. Again. 

Junpei groaned, breathless from the blow to his sternum. He glared up at Yuuji, dark green eyes meeting yellow-red eyes; Sukuna’s close to the surface then, which explains the hard blow. The curse seems to be of the opinion that he can take some damage, a strange compliment to his durability if he stopped to think about it. 

He let his head drop back onto the ground. “How long are we gonna do this?” 

Junpei was not whining, thank you. He was just worried about the amount of homework he was assigned for the weekend. Questionable homework, sure, but he was taught that effort will shine through no matter the source of work. Only if nepotism isn’t at work, of course. 

Yuuji crouched down next to him, the citrusy scent automatically relaxing him even as Junpei’s nose wrinkled at the metallic undertones that seemed to cling onto Yuuji’s person when Sukuna was active and alert. 

Yuuji poked his cheek, grinning mischievously, “We can leave when you land three consecutive hits on me.” 

Junpei narrowed his eyes, “Do they have to be hard, or do taps count?” 

“You gotta make me stumble a little.” 

This time Junpei did whine, he even squirmed around a little in protest. 

“Ah, ah, none of that. I’m making sure you come back to this house whole and alive.” Yuuji said firmly. He held out his hand to help Junpei up to soften his tone, smile soft and warm. “I gotta make sure you can hold out on your own so you can back up your future position as a Grade One Sorcerer, alright?”

Junpei took his hand, smiling sheepishly, “I don’t think anyone is going to promote me that far anytime soon. I’m not there yet, I don’t think.” 

“Bah, a dam is only useful to those who content themselves with stagnant waters. Even the blind can see how far you jujutsu sorcerers have fallen since my time.” Sukuna’s grave voice was full of distaste, his teeth a beacon from Yuuji’s left cheek. 

Junpei nodded along after a second of startled silence, confused as to what the old curse meant. Were the elders the dam? Why does Sukuna get his entertainment from being cryptic?

Junpei would bet real money that he’s only like this around other people, and he spoke regularly to Yuuji. They lapsed into silence for some time, Yuuji allowing Junpei to calm down his racing heart and no doubt talking to Sukuna. That would happen sometimes, Yuuji would fall silent, mentally communicating with Sukuna. It had made him uneasy the first couple times it had happened, but now Junpei merely summoned Orizuki back to play while he waited for Yuuji to finishing talking with the curse. 

His guardian came back to himself after a while, heaving a big sigh and turning to stare at the rising moon. Junpei merely waited him out, sensing that Yuuji wasn't returning to their spar for a reason. He was right, because the older male suddenly sat down and tugged Junpei down with him. 

The look on Yuuji's face was indecipherable. “Do you know why I’m doing this?” 

“The sparring?” Junpei asked. Yuuji didn't quite nod but he also didn't dispute Junpei, wordlessly prompting him to answer. Junpei tipped his head back as he pondered the question, “You wanna make sure I stay alive right?” 

And that had to be it, Yuuji always stressed the importance of living to tell tales, pushing Junpei beyond what he thought himself capable, forcing Junpei to think on his feet, to grapple out of any hold and where to hit where it hurt the most. Yuuji trained him like he was scared Junpei would be sent out to die, like he was spelling out his death sentence if Junpei didn't learn how to fight. Learning to fight effectively was the one thing Yuuji had never let Junpei cut corners about, (that and learning how to do his taxes, but not the point right now).

Junpei suddenly thought of a conversation they had exactly once, a year into his living with Yuuji.

(Yuuji had come home bloody and exhausted. He had stumbled into the kitchen, dropping two wickedly sharp and blood-slicked swords on the genkan, Chito and Nyanko rubbing along his legs and meowing worryingly, and clutched at Junpei’s shoulders with an uncharacteristically strong, punishing grip. 

The look in his eyes was completely wild and disconcertingly panicked. 

“You—” he had rasped, coughing out blood and completely freaking Junpei out, “You aren’t allowed to let someone get the upper hand on you and kill you, understand? Shit is going to get ugly, and you need to stay alive through all of that. Okay? Never let anyone gain the upper hand on you. Because if that ever happens, you will die." 

Junpei nodded, at a genuine loss for words and spooked beyond belief at the state of his psuedo-father-brother figure. 

He bore finger-shaped bruises on his shoulders for weeks. Yuuji never told him what had happened during that excursion that had him so rattled.)  

Yuuji dipped his head, again not quite agreeing but not disputing what Junpei was saying. So it was not that conversation. It must be something else then. Junpei absently let go of Orizuki, sensing this was not a topic that needed a slightly silly-looking tiny jellyfish floating around during it. 

He stayed quiet for some time, thinking about something; he stayed like that for enough time that the moon began to shine upon them. Junpei looked at his face, trying to glean what Yuuji was thinking. It was useless though, Yuuji had the one who taught him how to read faces and body language, but for all that Yuuji seemed to be an open book, Junpei could never accurately tell what Yuuji was thinking unless he wanted Junpei to know. 

Junpei wracked his head for any potential motive, but he could not think of anything. "I don't know," he admitted, "Why?" 

Yuuji's body language became even more closed off, and the heavy atmosphere that slowly gathered around the pair made everything else quiet down, like it was only the two of them in the world. Quietly and without meeting his eyes, Yuuji whispered, “I promised your mother. She made me swear in my name that I would take care of you.”

It was like a blow to the chest. Even after two years of her death, Junpei still did not speak of his mother often, her memory was something he guarded jealously. Part of his surprise stemmed from the fact that he had not known she had spoken with Yuuji, or that Yuuji had ever met her. 

“When?” If Yuuji’s voice was quiet, then Junpei’s voice was near silent, lost in the zephyr that brought whispers of winter.

But Yuuji heard him, he always did. 

“A week after we met,” he admitted. “She came to the bakery and asked what I wanted from you.” 

Despite his shock, Junpei felt a flush rise to his cheeks. “She would’ve liked you,” he murmured. 

Yuuji smiled at him with such fondness that Junpei had to look away. “She was nice,” he agreed. “She loved you a lot.” 

“She made a deal with the devil to keep you safe, child.” Sukuna rumbled, a curious lilt to his voice. “She begged and bent the knee to ensure that you continued living should she fall.” 

Junpei’s mood plummeted. Sukuna was a thousand-year-old curse, he was cruel and selfish and even though he had calmed down, Junpei had once seen him switch with Yuuji and break a curse’s knees for refusing to bow to the king. 

His mother was a woman who, despite her easy-going nature, was not someone who would kneel easily. He could only imagine what happened when she would have no doubt refused to kneel before the king of curses. 

“You made her kneel?” Junpei surged forward, meeting the single crimson eye that had opened, the beginnings of black rage creeping up to his throat and down his arms. “You made my mom kneel?!” 

Yuuji, who had fallen silent when Sukuna spoke up, acted now. He grasped Junpei’s arm, bringing his attention back. Junpei’s eyes met his; wild green against calm honey-brown. 

“Junpei—” He began to say, but was cut off by Junpei's strangled, sorrow-stricken voice. 

“Tell me.” he whispered, “Tell me you didn’t make her kneel.” 

Not his mother, not the woman who never thought he was weird or strange for being standoffish and quiet and awkward. Not the women who held him when he had nightmares of great big hulking beasts that emerged in the shadows and laughed when he would shriek at comically tiny spiders during the halcyon days of his youth.

Not his mom. 

Yuuji's countenance softened, and the beginning of misery and grief crept onto the contours of his face. “Your mother loved you, Junpei,” Yuuji said desperately. He did not deny it. 

Junpei stood up abruptly, turning away from Yuuji and striding to the ledge of the roof. His hands trembled and his eyes burned with tears he refused to let fall. He considered calling up Orizuki again, to create more distance, to ensure that Yuuji wouldn’t approach, but he discarded the idea just as quickly; for one, Orizuki deferred to Yuuji, and for another, he was too wrecked to confidently keep Orizuki from lashing out and possibly poisoning Yuuji. 

“Junpei.” Yuuji’s hands were burning hot and his footsteps were usually silent— a takeaway from being a vessel of a thousand-year-old entity and having super prestigious etiquette training as a child—  but now he made the effort to scruff his shoes along the ground so as to not startle him. His voice was subdued, and the words were draped in anguish, “I didn’t make your mother kneel. She did that on her own, said that for you, pride was nothing. I tried to tell her to get up, but she didn't move until I had agreed.” 

Junpei drew a shaky breath after too many tense heartbeats, turning to Yuuji with a vulnerable look on his face. Despite his best efforts, his voice still broke when he asked, “Did you know she was going to die?” 

“Oh god, Jun.” Yuuji drew him into his arms, Junpei didn’t fight him, going easily, seeking comfort in the furnace that was his embrace. “No, no, I didn’t know. I’m sorry.” 

“The dead have a curious hold on us, little jellyfish. Draw strength from their memory, but do not allow them to shackle you.” Sukuna said, and he did not speak for the rest of the night. 

It was the closest thing to an apology that the curse would give. 

Junpei drew an aching breath and finally mourned his mother's death. 

Yuuji held him through the entire night. 

✻

“Sukuna’s vessel.” 

Yuuji stiffened and let out a growl of irritation. How come no one ever mentioned his name? He was more than just Sukuna's vessel, damn it! 

Inside their mind, Sukuna snorted, no doubt the curse would point out that if his name was also put out there, the Jujutsu sorcerers would never let him hide in peace. Except Yuuji was very close to forgoing his relative peace if it meant that those he encountered would stop referring to him as if he were an object. 

The presence behind him was the same that had been following him since Niigata and it spiked in agitation at the prolonged dismissal that Yuuji was giving it. He tried not to grown out loud as the voice let out a rumble. 

“If I don’t turn around, it’s not there, right?” He told Sukuna hopefully. 

Sukuna snorted, “He will not leave without an audience.” 

“If it doesn’t have a finger, I’m leaving.” 

“If he does not bring a finger, he will not leave alive.” 

“Yeah, that’s fair.” 

With that, Yuuji finally turned around. He stared at the curse, eyes roving over the strange features. “Holy shit,” he whispered, giddy. “It’s Mt. Fuji.” 

The curse’s smug grin froze on its face. Then it shrieked in anger, sending a blast of fire at Yuuji. Yuuji, for his part, swallowed a yelp and leaped into the air, landing some meters from the scorched patch of grass. He frowned at the curse. 

“That’s not polite,” he said grumpily. 

“That is an appropriate response to having to deal with you, brat.” 

“Quiet down, parasite.” 

A roar of rage and a flash of immense pain cracked through Yuuji’s body, he only hid his wince well through years of familiarity. “Damn, I’m sorry. Touchy, much?” 

To the curse, he said, “Don’t you want to speak to me?” 

The curse sneered, blackened teeth flashing menacingly, “I have nothing to say to a human.” 

“Hurtful,” Yuuji said blandly. “Then I have no business with you.” 

The curse snarled again, lunging this time, its single eye bulging in a way that would’ve been comical if not for the literal attempts at murder that were currently being committed. For each lunge, Yuuji danced out of the way, twisting and twirling just out of arm’s reach; all the while keeping up with a running commentary just to see the fury literally rise on the curse’s face. 

“Enough!” it shrieked, after nearly half an hour of fruitless chasing. “Show me Sukuna! Bring him out! Show me the King of Curses, boy!” 

Yuuji also stopped eyes on the heaving blue-skinned curse, half wondering if its blood was purple. Still, he remained silent, watching as the curse began to ramble about a new world and the delights it shall bring for curses all over the land. 

Yuuji withheld a groan, he just wanted to retrieve some new weapons to incorporate into his fighting style. First, his bakery gets no break, and now it’s his peaceful wanderings. This isn't fair, it’s almost enough to make Yuuji want to cry in petulant frustration. And this insistence of a "New Golden Age" really was getting old, people just didn't learn, did they?

“What’s your name?” he asked when the curse finally wound down from its near-incoherent rant. “And what do you bring for Sukuna?” 

The curse’s face wrinkled in confusion, but Yuuji did not budge. This was important, it would make or break the encounter. 

“My name is Jogo,” the curse answered. “Show me Sukuna.” 

Yuuji shook his head. “You don't understand. What do you bring for Sukuna?” 

The curse, Jogo, growled in frustration, so Yuuji decided to toss it a pity bone. Maybe it just lacked critical thinking skills. 

“That is called projecting, brat. I heard it’s a terrible coping mechanism.” 

“I don’t want to hear it from the guy that eats humans and literally kills things to feel better.” 

“Sukuna is the King of Curses, right?” Yuuji prodded. He waited until Jogo nodded, “Right so he demands that you bring him a gift to 'win his favor', or whatever the fuck. Otherwise, he kills you for the disrespect.” 

Jogo seemed to settle, the mini volcano atop its head decreasing in its constant output of cursed energy. Yuuji wondered if it ever got tired of not controlling its cursed energy. But then again, cursed spirits were made from cursed energy, so maybe it was like a recycling process? 

“Come here,” it said, beckoning Yuuji towards it. “I have a gift for the king.” 

Yuuji approached him suspiciously, but Sukuna was quiet. So either all is well or he’s feeling vindictive and Yuuji was gonna pay for it. He mentally poked Sukuna, but there was no response. Kissing his teeth, Yuuji pouted the silent treatment then. 

“Petty.” 

In the split second, he had taken to stupidly lower his guard to talk to Sukuna, there was a burst of delighted childish laughter, silver flashed and there was a stinging pain on his lip. Yuuji leaped back several meters, eyes scanning the sky for the sudden spike of cursed energy. Whatever it was, it had fled as quickly as it had appeared. 

"What the fuck!" he snarled.

He had half a mind to give chase, to find the little curse user that gave him the slip. Sukuna was alert now too, searching and measuring up the curse in front of them, previously apathy melting off, and disgruntlement rising as the King realized that they had been duped.  

“Who was that?” he asked Jogo, the corner of his mouth twinged at the pull, and his annoyance increased. “You didn’t come alone?” 

“Kneel, boy,” the curse snarled in satisfaction. “Recognize your superiors.” 

Yuuji squinted at the knockoff Mt. Fuji, “I’m sorry but I don’t take orders or bow down to anyone, especially some poor fucker with one eye and black teeth.” 

The curse gnashed its teeth. “You will regret your words, boy!” 

“I’m sure I will,” Yuuji murmured, loosening his muscles and dropping into a low crouch. Blood flowed out sluggishly from the corner of his lip and some of it pooled into his mouth, coppery and warm. The metallic taste had his mouth stretching into a macabre grin, teeth stained red. 

“Brat.” 

Yuuji paused, “What? You wanna switch?” 

Instead of answering, Sukuna pushed against his control. Huh, it seemed that Jogo would not need a finger to talk to Sukuna after all. Yuuji didn’t know whether to consider the curse lucky or not. The white-hot flash of rage was not just his own. 

“Hey,” he called out to Jogo, slowly straightening out of his crouch, “Mind your manners.” 

“Enchain.” 

✻

“Enchain.”

Jogo’s confusion melted away to sheer terror as Sukuna’s black marks bled through Yuuji’s skin. He dared not breathe as Sukuna stretched, obviously acclimatizing to the body. 

So this is the King of Curse, Jogo thought, How terrifying, his presence is the very definition of evil. My body does not want to move. 

Jogo watched as Sukuna inspected himself in the nearby stream, twisting his head to and fro, lingering on the cut that ran through the corner of his top and bottom lip. Jogo suddenly regretted allowing Haruto to tag along and land a strike upon the vessel’s face. The cowardly curse user no doubt had already long left. 

Finally, Sukuna turned to where Jogo was, still standing. He frowned in annoyance, “Why are you still standing? Do not think yourself equal to me, you fool.”  

Jogo fell to his knees. “Ryoumen Sukuna,” he intoned, staring at Sukuna, “Please I—”

“Dismantle.” 

Jogo’s head rolled, but he was still alive, such was the precision of Sukuna. His body fell not a moment after. Inside his head, Yuuji laughed at Jogo’s misfortune. 

“The bough that prospers hangs the lowest, though it seems that your head does not.” Sukuna hummed, rolling Jogo’s head under his shoe. “Tell me, do you think yourself powerful?” 

When Jogo sputtered, Sukuna sighed, digging his heel into the curse’s eye. “Answer me, cursed spirit, or I shall make use of your tongue and keep it as a souvenir.” 

“Yes! I am strong.” Jogo said at last. “Please, I—” 

“Silence,” Sukuna said mildly. “Get up, if you can land a hit on me, I will listen to you, yes?” 

Sukuna waited for Jogo’s verbal affirmation before he returned Jogo’s head to his body and moved away some meters, waiting. 

Jogo grinned, lunging forward with a fireball, the size no larger than his palm. He threw it forward and expected to see Sukuna burn, to hiss at the heat and see the skin blister and blacken and flake off the bone. 

But it did not. Sukuna held the fireball in his hand, having caught it like it was not made to turn anything it touched into ashes. The king inspected the fireball, turning it around in his hand and throwing it up and down like it was a ball. Then his mouth split into a terrible grin and he wound his arm back and threw it right back at Jogo. 

It hit Jogo in the stomach, sending him back and driving him to the ground. He gasped and threw up bile, the flame had returned hotter and with crueler aim. 

“Terrible, isn’t it?” Sukuna said conversationally. “Being burned? That blow could’ve killed you, but I am a merciful being. Get up, you have not even attempted to touch me.” 

“Do you actually want to hear it out or are you just blowing off steam?” Yuuji said, bemusedly. 

Sukuna gave a half smirk, “What do you think, brat?” 

Yuuji merely hummed, switching tracks he asked, “How much longer do you have? Four minutes, six?” 

Sukuna shrugged, eyes trained on Jogo. “Does it matter? We will both feel it.” 

Yuuji hummed again but said nothing and Sukuna knew he had lost interest in his affairs again. He'd gone back to idly gnawing on the sharp bones with his even sharper teeth. Sukuna withheld a snort, for all that the brat claimed that Sukuna was the one who was selfish and immoral, he was just as bad, if not worse. Sukuna knew that the boy suspected that it had to do with the fact that his influence, but the King of Curses was of the opinion that the boy was just as capable of the cruelty that Sukuna was infamous for, just that his vessel enjoyed hiding behind cordial smiles and a sickeningly happy-go-lucky attitude. 

It did help when they were faced with unsuspecting people, like the Nanamin or the jellyfish child, and the patrons of his vessel's bakery. It aided them in staying under the radar, just under the sorcerer's nose, to Sukuna's endless delight.

So he tolerated the facade, content in knowing that his vessel shared his sentiments in the relative privacy of their mind and sometimes even made his own venomous remarks. It was a great trick after all, and Sukuna did so love deceit. 

Sukuna turned back to Jogo, who was gathering his curse energy. He raised an eyebrow at the gallant attempt of fighting spirit. “Oh, none of that,” he murmured. “I shall show you why you should’ve never agreed to fight me, cursed spirit. I shall show you why I was worshipped as a deity in my prime.

“Ryouiki Tenkai: Fukuma Mizushi.” 

Jogo’s single eye widened as everything around him went silent, and the only thing he heard was a single melodious drop of water. That was the only warning he got before he found himself in front of a Buddhist temple, terrible and grand. Skulls hung from each of the roof corners, piles of skulls gathered at the entrance, and the entire temple was the color of freshly spilled blood. The entire domain was illuminated by an eerie dark blue and blood-red color, casting strange moving shadows along the entire domain.  

Sukuna’s vessel was there too, lounging on the stairs off to one side, nestled between large skulls. Eyes impassive and silent, he watched from behind Sukuna. But the boy was currently the least of Jogo’s worries, for there was something off about this domain. 

“So you’ve noticed it?" Sukuna grinned, his four eyes creasing into cruel half-crescent moons of bloody crimson. "Rejoice, for you are the first to enter this godly place in a millennium. My magnum opus, as divine as I. Certain to never let another who enters return the same. Truthfully, I only have it in a small range, so as to not attract unwanted attention from others.” 

Jogo tried to fire another fireball at the King, but it fizzled out before it even left his hand. Sukuna laughed, raising a hand and flicking it towards Jogo. The curse shrieked as he was hit with another blistering fireball, the flames licking at his skin and leaving the muscles and meat underneath exposed. He panted, attempting to stand even as his knees faltered. 

Sukuna waved his hand again, "Dismantle." 

Jogo's arm was sliced off, falling from his side and landing in the water with the whisper of a splash, his knees buckled and he fell to the floor again. Trembling, he grabbed his arm back and stuck it back onto his body.

"You should not stand before your betters," Sukuna said blandly, watching Jogo try and heal himself the best he could. 

“There is no one as proud and conceited as him. Sukuna exists only for his own pleasure and displeasure,” Yuuji spoke up, his head lolled to the side, supported by a hand that squished against his cheek, he still looked bored. “You signed off your death when you agreed to enter the binding vow with him.” 

“Why is he here?” Jogo croaked, ignoring the words the boy spoke, too busy grappling with the feel of unworthiness heavy on his tongue. Like he was a beggar in the presence of god-kings. One standing in a snow-white kimono and the other was lounging in clothes as dark as the bloodwater around the temple. 

“He is my vessel, and we are soul-entwined,” Sukuna said.

He is me, and I am him, Jogo heard. He is as terrible as I. We are but reflections of the other. 

Said vessel made a face, leaning back on the stairs and picking up a skull to contemplate. “Don’t say it like that. It sounds way too romantic and I would literally rather shove this down my throat than date you.” 

“The only lust I have is for bloodshed and my own glory.” 

"That not what I—" The boy sat up, a furrow on his brow, “You’re asexual?” 

Sukuna turned around to where the boy sat, “What the fuck is that?” 

Jogo watched them, incredulously. Were they really ignoring him? The boy had launched into a detailed description of asexuality and its variations, and Sukuna had carelessly turned his back on him; neither had their eyes on him. Why was Sukuna acting as if that explanation was more important than his proposition? 

“Oh hey, almost forgot what we were doing.” 

Jogo jerked back, the voice was suddenly too close for comfort. He dodged out of the way of a wickedly clawed hand that aimed to rip out his eye just barely in time. The vessel was suddenly in front of him, smiling placidly. His eyes were a burning yellow that seemed to have an unearthly glow in contrast to the dark surroundings of the temple. 

The boy lured him in a vicious bout of close-range fighting, in which Jogo realized that if he did not focus on a razor-sharp one-mindedness he would end up without his limbs again. As it was, he was heaving and panting, clothes ripped from near misses and grappled holds. 

Whereas Sukuna had sliced him down where he stood, overwhelming in his apathetic power and devastating in his strikes, the vessel was taunting and unsettling. Getting close enough for Jogo to feel the breath on his face and the heat of the boy's body, forcing Jogo to dance to his tune. Pressuring Jogo to move lest he lose his life and not letting up for even a moment, denying the curse the chance to even retaliate, it was maddening and tiring. 

Worse still was the perfectly pleasant smile, still bloody and toeing the line of psychopathy. And the things he asked. 

“Hey, did you know a curse that had blue hair and patchwork stitches on his face and body?” the boy asked, having slammed Jogo into the murky water surrounding the temple. 

“Mahito? He disappeared two years ago, he’s dead,” Jogo bit out, mystified as to why the boy was talking about a long-disappeared and presumed-dead curse. Loath as he was to answer the human, he did wonder about the young curse. Mahito had the potential to be debilitating to sorcerers, but he had disappeared without so much a whisper. 

When a year had passed, they had written the curse off as dead. But the curiosity of what happened to the curse remained. It seemed today he would be getting his answer though. 

The boy laughed, a loud, cold noise that seemingly echoed in the domain, “Yeah, he is, isn't he? Do you know who killed him?” 

Jogo stayed silent but turned to where Sukuna sat, watching the fight from his throne. When he noticed Jogo’s attention, he laughed as well.  

“I am not the only one you should fear, fool.” 

What? Confusion and dread slowly filled him. Jogo kept his eye on him, while Sukuna’s vessel’s nails digging into his neck.

Seeing his confusion, Sukuna sighed disappointedly, “You are strong, yes. But you are weaker than my vessel.” 

Jogo’s breath caught in his throat, and the last thing he felt was the vessel leaning in and whispering, “My name is Itadori Yuuji, and I am far worse than anything you could ever come up with.” 

✻

Junpei had noticed that Yuuji had seemed lost in thought more often than not in the early hours of his shifts, sometimes even audibly arguing, with Sukuna do doubt. But he wasn’t too worried, partly because he was confident that the curse and vessel would figure it out like all their other disagreements and partly because he was simply too busy exorcising curses to truly pay attention to the pair’s disputes. 

These days, Nanami had been coming almost every day to pick him up almost immediately after his shift ended. The number of missions had almost doubled per day. Most days he'd return to Yuuji exhausted and bruised, or he’d call to let him know that he’d be staying at the Jujutsu High dorms for the night. 

Every time he came back, Yuuji seemed to be arguing with Sukuna about something, and he hadn’t bothered hiding his nails while baking. More often than not, he would leave the job of manning the cash register and daily gossip to Junpei, too on edge to comfortably speak with the patrons should they draw him into conversations. 

Junpei just hoped that whatever Yuuji and Sukua were arguing about would pass, like all the other times. The matter was resolved after what almost two months.

He’d been helping Yuuji with the macarons, putting them in the oven and whipping up the fillings, when Yuuji had stretched and sighed. He looked up at the pink-haired man in confusion. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked, hands steady as he made a swirl of vanilla filling on the cheery yellow macarons.

“Do you wanna bring your friends here, Jun?” 

Junpei was startled, squeezing too hard on the filling and forcing a large blob of vanilla filling onto the macaron. Though the question came completely out of the left field, he couldn’t deny that he hadn’t thought about introducing Yuuji to his fellow jujutsu sorcerers. But due to the nature of his guardian and his, ah, tenant, Junpei doubted he would ever be able to bring them around to meet Yuuji. 

“I think that’d be nice,” he said cautiously. “But what about Sukuna? Gojo-sensei has this thing that lets him see everything. It’s called Six-Eyes and your cover might not last against him.” 

Gojo had come back one day, complaining about ‘overbearing elders’ and how they didn’t seem to understand that Gojo would be able to bring down whatever curse he encountered, no matter how old or strong they were. Junpei had been able to wrangle out of his teacher that the elders had assigned him to keep an eye on the riamnding sealed fingers of the King of Curses, and also the execution of the vessel of the King of Curses should he encounter it. 

Junpei's heart had been in his throat when he asked his teacher whether that would be safe. Gojo had reassured him, not that it did any good.

“I am the strongest, after all," He had said, smiling with a barely there edge. "Not even the King of Curses would stand a chance against me." 

Yuuji waved him off, smiling mischievously. “Don’t worry about that, when we get to that just play along, okay?” 

“What’s the occasion?” he asked, still curious as to why Yuuji would suddenly be asking about meeting his friends.  

Yuuji tilted his head in animal curiosity. “Aren’t you graduating in a couple of weeks?” 

“Oh!” Junpei said in realization, sheepishly grinning. “Nah, we have another year. Jujutsu High does four years.” 

Yuuji hummed, leaning on the metal table as he recalibrated his thoughts. “That's a lot of years,” he finally said. “Doesn't matter, bring them around! I wanna meet them.” 

Junpei nodded casually, brimming with excitement but trying to not let it seem too obvious. By the look of Yuuji’s indulgent smile, he wasn't having it all that well.

It didn’t matter, he was giddy at the thought of finally being able to talk about Yuuji to his friends. 

His mind swirled with the possibilities, he could already imagine the look on Gojo-sensei’s face when he entered and saw all the sweets. The gleam in Fushiguro’s eyes when Yuuji would inevitably invite them back to the apartment and he would see the swords that Yuuji hung from the walls that he swears he doesn’t use. Kugisaki's delighted gasp when she sees Yuuji’s closet and decor. 

Then a sudden thought struck him, stopping him in his tracks. 

“You can’t give Kugisaki your card.” Junpei gripped Yuuji's arm in sudden ardor. “Swear to me that you don't let Kugisaki get her hands on your card. She’ll treat you like her sugar daddy and I don’t want to be mentally scarred.”

Yuuji blinked, bewildered. “...Okay?” 

Junpei nodded. “Okay. I’ll text them in a bit.”   

The doorbell jingled, and Yuuji patted his head and told him to stay in the kitchen while he took care of the patrons. 

Junpei heard Yuuji call out a cheerful greeting to a Noritoshi-kun, and he thought, Oh hey like that guy from Kyoto.

And then he thought, what the fuck. 

He debated the pros and cons of peeking out but quickly determined that if it was Kamo-san from Kyoto Jujutsu High, he would notice and attempt to draw Junpei into a conversation. Junpei looked down at his outfit. Under his black apron, he wore a periwinkle long-sleeved satin blouse tucked into a pair of denim jeans and simple black flats on his feet. 

Then he shrugged, not his problem. Kamo-san was getting better about thinking for himself no doubt, but he was still painfully awkward. So better to just avoid the student and finish beating the egg whites. 

Win-win for everyone. 

✻

To: Mambo No. 5: 

deino: hey

deino: hey

deino: my dad says u guys can come over 

deino: but that ur dad has to pick you up 

chespin: ??? wtf

chespin: WAIT

chespin: WE CAN COME 

gengar: ?

gengar: where

chespin: get it together fushiguro GOD 

chespin: junpei’s rich dilfs bakery remember 

deino: PLEASE stop calling him that 

arceus: I heard dilf.

arceus: Yoshino :0!

arceus: We can go!! 

arceus: I am omw!

arceus: Kugisaki, Fushiguro meet me by the school entrance right now. 

deino: wait no, come by after six bc we close by that time and we can talk without being interrupted.  

✻ 

Gojo approached the elusive bakery with his hand on his phone. Stopping at the door he stared up at the sign. At World’s End Bakery, it read, under the larger sign there was a smaller one, stating and coffee shop! The name was done up in cheerful hiragana with its romaji counterpart just underneath, a little bread and coffee cup on either side of the name. 

The front had a small patio for patrons who wished to sit outside, a gate erected to separate them from the people passing by. The windows were large, letting passersby peek through and be tempted by the various sweets on display. 

He spotted Junpei fiddling with the register at the same time that Kugisaki did, and she smacked an unsuspecting Fushiguro on the shoulder in excitement. 

“Look!” she said gleefully, “There he is! Let’s go! Let’s go! Let’s go!” 

Fushiguro grunted, but Gojo could see the well-hidden curiosity in the crease of his eye and the excitement in the slope of his shoulder. He smiled, throwing his arms around the pair and gleefully exclaiming, “Come along children! We must be respectful to this oh-so-sacred establishment!” 

He opened the door and gasped, delighted. By a booth in the further corners, there lay a gorgeous tortie Maine Coon. That explained the notice by the side of the door warning against allergies and possible cat hairs. 

Gojo made a beeline toward the cat, cooing at it. The cat regarded him with inquisitive eyes, lounging on its side. He stuck out a hand for it— her, most likely, most tortoiseshell cats were female— and allowed the cat to sniff his hand. 

To his further delight, the cat not only pushed her head against his but stood up and pawed at his sleeve. He lessened Infinity, wanting to feel the soft fur and bury his face in her lovely pelt. He had only met this cat seconds ago, but he knew right away that not even a horde of Special Grade Curses would tear him away from the gorgeous feline. The glittering gold collar around her neck proclaimed her name to be Chito, and he cooed at her. 

“I would lay my life down for you,” he swore to her. “I would tear down mountains and bring you the stars to wear as jewelry. The heavens and seas shall be yours, just say the words and I shall bring them to you.” 

The tortie, Chito, stared at him, before deciding that the large strange hairless cat was in dire need of good grooming, and began her sacred duty. 

“Uh, sensei…?” Junpei’s cautious voice brought him out of his solemn swear of loyalty. 

“Junpei,” he called out, attention solely on the cat, “Why did you ever tell me you had cats?” 

Junpei's brow furrowed. “You never asked?” 

Which, is fair. But still, Gojo wracked his brain for tidbits of information about Junpei, he knew only the broad strokes and the tiny little details that came from being his student. But he never asked about his favorite onigiri flavor or what brand of shoes he liked the best or what was his preferred elder murder fantasy. 

He frowned, he would have to fix that immediately. 

“Oh!” Junpei exclaimed. “Would you guys like to sit down? We’re closed for the day but we still have some vanilla cookies and macarons left over. And I can put on some water for coffee or tea if you guys would like?” 

It seemed like a good idea, so Fushiguro volunteered to bring out the cookies and macarons while Junpei set up the water, meanwhile, Kugisaki and Gojo chose a table to sit down on. Kugisaki leaned back on her chair, idly observing the decor with eyes that were more of a seasoned interior designer than a seventeen-year-old girl. 

Suddenly Kugisaki slammed her hand on the table, crying out impatiently, “Where is he?” 

Junpei smiled, “I wondered how long you were gonna last. Our other cat, Nyanko, ran out when Yuuji was putting the chairs back inside for the night. So he’s out hunting for him right now, they should be back in a bit though.”  

While he talked, Fushiguro had set the plate of cookies and macarons down on the table, and Junpei reached out and automatically repositioned them to complement each other’s color scheme. When he noticed the trio giving him bemused looks he flushed. 

“It’s a habit!”

Gojo had laughed good-naturedly, popping a cookie into his mouth and chewing. Then he stopped abruptly. 

“Gojo-sensei?” Junpei asked tentatively, he grew alarmed when Gojo sniffled. “Oh my god, Gojo-sensei are you okay?”

If Gojo had thought that he had reached nirvana when he had gained control over his Infinity, he positively ascended the moment he had popped the cookie into his mouth. By all accounts, he’d assumed it was just a regular vanilla cookie, even mentally pouted at the thought of not having a better selection of sweets. 

But this? 

This was the ambrosia that the gods gorged themselves on. This was a gift from heaven, or even above that. 

Gojo was not a religious man, nor was he a faithful one. But at that moment, he was ready to lay at the feet of the deity who had created such artistry of a treat and become a monk if that was what the divine being wanted. Driven to tears and it was only his first try of any of the sweets laid out.  

“Who?” he croaked, sounding wrecked. “Who made this?” 

Who had blessed him with such flavors? Who had favored him and whose holy hands had crafted the pure bliss that had exploded in his mouth? 

“Who made the cookie?” Junpei asked. “Yuuji did.” 

“What did I do?” 

The mellifluous tones of Gojo’s new object of worship reached Gojo’s ears. He half climbed over Fushiguro to peek at the newcomer. 

There, standing in the doorway with the sun as his backdrop, stood one Yuuji. 

Sakura-pink hair contrasted beautifully against tan skin, honey-brown eyes, and a thin white scar running through the corner of his lips. An oversized cream-colored sweater with a white fluffy cat that looked right at home completed the look. 

Gojo decided then and there that he would put a ring on it. 

“Hi,” said his future husband with a bright smile. Gojo hoped he would smile even wider and harder at their wedding. “I’m Itadori Yuuji.” 

Chapter Text

“Okay,” Yuuji said, flicking the lights to his apartment and then pointing to several shelves and cubbies neatly lined up in the genkan. “Shoes go here, coats go there, weapons of mass destruction in the cubbies next to the cat carries, and the slippers are right here.” 

Junpei dropped Nyanko into the cubby labeled 'Weapons of Mass Destruction here', before ambling further into the apartment, beckoning his year mates to follow him. Chito, from her perch upon Gojo's shoulders, meowed balefully at the treatment of her fellow cat, leaping down from Gojo and trotting into the living room to disappear around the corner. Nyanko popped up from the cubby with a pink mouse plushie in his mouth, pushing the cubby over when he attempted to leap out and follow Chito. He, too, disappeared around the corner, presumably to cuddle up with Chito. 

Yuuji groaned out loud, bending to pick up the cubby and righting it to its rightful place making Gojo very grateful that he had chosen to wear his glasses over his blindfold today. Yuuji turned to smile at them sheepishly, “They get excited to come home after a long day, don’t worry about them.” 

“We’re the ones intruding. Besides, cats will be cats, won't they?” Gojo waved away his apology with an easy hand. And men will be men, he thought, quietly thinking of something to get Itadori to bend over again. 

Itadori hummed agreeing, blissfully unaware of Gojo's thoughts, and motioned for the group to walk through the threshold and into the living room. 

Kugisaki not so subtly pushed Fushiguro aside to wander in, and she was immediately taken by the paintings of gorgeous skyline forests that decorated the walls and the impressive cat tree that decorated an entire wall. 

“This is huge,” she breathed, eyes shining in awe, coming to stand before the frankly impressive cat house. 

“Hm?” Itadori said, glancing over to where she stopped, “That? It was a gift from some guy I knew. They’re actually like six different cat houses, me an’ Junpei just stacked them all together.” 

Junpei sighed morosely, “It was worse than trying to put together the Lego set of Tokyo.” 

“And that’s why we left it in Sendai,” Itadori said shuddering, before adding thoughtfully, “But the tree lego is here somewhere.” 

“You play with Legos?” Kugisaki asked. 

“Yeah,” Itadori shrugged, “I don’t have much to do here. I just work all day and come home and build legos.” 

“Liar!” Junpei said immediately, “Half the time, you’re not even in the apartment because you’re halfway across the world!” 

Itadori spun around to lunge at Junpei playfully, who danced out of the way and around the table with a yelp. The pair immediately began to circle each other, Junpei pushing the coffee table to block Itadori's path as he tried to edge his way to hide behind Gojo. 

“My money is on Itadori,” Kugisaki said immediately, holding a wad of cash out to Fushiguro. 

The boy scoffed but also fished out a wad of cash to add as the pair turned to look at Gojo expectantly. He briefly debated whether or not he should reprimand them for betting, but it seemed that Itadori had intercepted his charge because Junpei had just let out a screech that meant he would start pulling hair soon, and that was also a move that would put him on equal standing with whoever he was wrestling. 

He’d managed to once get a grip on Maki’s hair and it was the only time someone had ever gotten an upper hand on her in her entire life. Maki still twitched whenever someone mentioned the incident.

Which Inumaki did, constantly. 

Gojo watched as Yuuji effortlessly jumped over the low table and jumped on Junpei. Junpei had half summoned Orizuki and was using his shikigami’s tentacles to keep his guardian at bay, making Gojo want to smack his head. Itadori didn’t have Cursed Energy, so utilizing his shikigami to keep Itadori at bay seemed a bit overkill. 

Curiously, it seemed like Yuuji was unseeingly darting in and out of the jellyfish’s range. Gojo waved away the niggling in the back of his head that whispered: That grab could’ve gone for the neck, that hold looks iron-clad, he could’ve ripped Junpei’s heart out with that smack.

He felt a spike of annoyance at those thoughts; being paranoid really took the fun out of most things. He’d have to work on that if he wanted this relationship to work! No relationship built on lies and half-truths ever prospered. 

He was drawn out of his thoughts when Junpei yelped, turning back to the scene before him, Gojo wanted to snicker at the pair that had been reduced to rolling around on the ground in a good old wrestling match, complete with biting, scratching, and kicking. Orizuki was long gone, having sensed a losing battle the moment Itadori got Junpei on the ground. 

“Mercy!” Junpei cried out, at last, one hand pinned behind his back as Itadori crowed victory. 

Fushiguro grumbled over his loss as Kugisaki happily counted her winnings and even gave a little to Itadori, who smiled indulgently and handed the bills back to her. Junpei began to wiggle from his spot on the floor, making whining noises that had Itadori hastily take his knee off the boy's back. 

Gojo not-so-subtly pushed Fushiguro aside to help Itadori up, feeling a thrill go up his spine as he held the pink-haired man’s hand for a little longer than what was necessary. For his part, Itadori said nothing of the man’s behavior, simply accepting the help with a smile. 

"Thank you," Itadori said, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck, a pretty flush peeking over the apples of his cheeks. Gojo wanted to paint his house that shade of pink, immediately. "Sorry about that, sometimes Junpei and I get carried away and forget where we are." 

Gojo wanted to grab his face and make him forget his name. But he settled on saying, "Oh, don't worry about it! Junpei is actually one of our most scrappy fighters so it's interesting to see someone get him on the ground and admit defeat so quickly." 

Itadori nodded, something like pride on his face, "I taught him everything he knows." 

Junpei grumbled from where he was still sitting on the ground, stretched out with his feet balancing on Fushiguro's knee. "You throw tennis balls at me when you're in meetings and call that training." 

Itadori leaned down to swat at his head with a cheery smile, "It breeds good dodging instincts, Jun. You should be happy I think of creative exercises." 

“What kind of meetings do you go to?” Kugisaki asked, having finally finished counting her money and tucking her money into her pocket. "Junpei mentioned that you're almost always in meetings when you're not working at the bakery." 

Itadori made a face at Junpei, who made a face back. 

“Those meetings aren’t anything important really,” he said to Kugisaki, gesturing to Gojo to take a seat next to him on the sofa. “Those companies just want to feel like they’re important, so they like to have their stupid meetings overseas and invite me.” 

“Why you?” Fushiguro asked suspiciously. Gojo wanted to wring his neck but also wanted to learn more about the elusive male. 

“My grandpa knew some people who did some things and they sometimes send stuff to thank him or something,” Itadori explained vaguely. “So when I let the news drop that my grandfather had passed away, I was sent so many collections that I had to get a storage house for them.” 

Gojo blinked, that sure was a way to say that his grandfather was one of the most accomplished sorcerers of his age. But he supposed Itadori Wasuke was long past his prime by the time Yuuji came about. It was also a great way to give information without diverting too much information to strangers, which they practically were. 

“Collections?” Kugisaki repeated with a dubious look on her face. “What kind of collections? Legos?” 

“Ha! No, they sent clothes. Men, women, unisex, even kid’s clothes. I don’t know why though, I don’t know any little kids. Make-up, perfumes, shoes, it was like they threw a dart and sent whatever it landed on,” Itadori stood up, making Gojo mourn the heat that emanated from Itadori, he wanted to bask in that warmth for a little longer. “Come on, I’ll bring out some boxes for you to look at after we eat.” 

Junpei gave a little cheer as Itadori lead the way to the kitchen, Kugisaki hot on his heels. Fushiguro turned to look at Gojo, who shrugged and followed the trio into the kitchen. 

The kitchen was airy, with large windows that let the sunlight in and a dark floorboard that complimented the grey marbling detail on the countertops. The breakfast bar only held two tall seats and plastic fruit that was slightly dusty. There was no dining table present, but Gojo supposed that made sense for a two-person household. He looked around the room, taking note of the detailing on the walls and the ceiling, it wouldn't do to build a house and have Itadori hate it. 

Junpei’s crow of despair tore him from his blissfully domestic thoughts of filling a house with Itadori's presence, “Hwan-gi stopped by!? Why didn’t you tell me?” 

Spying a barely there blush, Gojo’s focus razored in. Who was Hwan-gi? Horror suddenly struck him, was this Hwan-gi…? No, it could not be. 

Yuuji was single, was he not? 

Kugisaki voiced the question Gojo could not bring himself to ask, “Who’s Hwan-gi?” 

“Hwan-gi is a chef Yuuji is friends with.” Junpei volunteered, “Sometimes he comes around the bakery and buys half the matcha and strawberry mochi. He trades food from his restaurant after the day ends, sometimes.”

He held up a medium-sized glass container gleefully, “Hwan-gi also makes the best gimbap. I would commit several war crimes for this.” 

Yuuji smacked Junpei on the head with a wooden spoon, “Stop talking. Hwan-gi and I go way back. I introduced him and his wife to each other back in… middle school was it? Yeah, I think it was. He had just moved here from Korea and I couldn’t handle him looking so lost after a week and a half. The rest was history.” 

Yuuji turned to smile at Gojo, “Junpei thinks that Hwan-gi, his wife, and I are going to be buried together.” 

“They are!” Junpei said, a crazed light entering his eyes, he gently set down the glass container and shoved a finger into Yuuji’s cheek. “You have to see them interact, it’s like watching synchronized swimmers move.” 

Gojo watched Yuuji’s body language for any truth, but the man only presented fond annoyance and was smiling indulgently at his charge. That meant that the threat of this Hwan-gi had gone down by three percent, but still. He would have to find this Hwan-gi and see for himself. He'd have to exhaust his contacts to search for this Hwan-gi. 

Meanwhile, Yuuji had begun to survey the kitchen space and found it lacking. It was perfect for a teenage boy and his guardian and their cats, but the extra bodies meant their kitchen would be overcrowded. He met Junpei's eye and nodded. 

“Fushiguro, hold this,” Yuuji said, handing a plate of food to the boy. “We’re gonna eat in the dining room. There’s more space there.” 

The dining room turned out to be a large room, decorated in white and gold trim, with a six-chair table in the middle and glass panels that went from ceiling to floor replacing the wall facing west. All along the wall, small delicate detailing could be spotted in thin shimmery paint, serving as decoration and seemingly nothing more. It screamed of luxurious living. 

“Holy shit,” Kugisaki said, setting down the cups and utensils. “This is a lot.” 

“Yeah,” Yuuji sighed, “The interior designer went overboard, I think.” 

“The interior designer cried tears of joy when you gave her free reign,” Junpei said matter-of-factly. 

“Let’s eat, yeah?” Yuuji chirped while simultaneously throwing a plate at Junpei, who caught it with a pout. 

The group dug into the meal with gusto, hardly speaking because they were too busy stuffing their mouths. Even Gojo, who was determined to not enjoy his food, melted after three bites inhaling the rest of his plate with gusto. 

Throughout the night, Itadori entertained his guests and even succeeded in bringing Fushiguro out of his shell when he brought out swords that looked a little too familiar and like they belonged to a certain blond black-tipped asshole. Fushiguro merely put it out of his mind, it was not his problem. How Itadori came to have it was a mystery. (“Oh, I found it on the way home from Nagano. Aren’t they neat?”) 

But no one would not begrudge the man for it, finders-keepers after all. Gojo was absolutely not cackling at the mental image of a certain black-tipped blond asshole huffing all over his stuffy compound about his missing swords. 

Kugisaki shrieked in excitement when Itadori brought out the sweater she had mentioned she'd been hunting for weeks, burying her face in it once she got confirmation that it had never been worn but had been washed. She had turned to Junpei and began punching him in the arm, crying out about the injustice. “You’ve been holding back on me! I should’ve known after I saw that sweater you had the other day!” 

“Sorry! Sorry! Mercy!”

Then she turned to Itadori and grabbed his arm with an intense grip, eyes blazing, “Let me go through the storage house at least once. Please.” 

Itadori, for his part, nodded easily, “Sure.” 

Kugisaki nodded, satisfied, and in a bored voice she said, “I’d go to war for you, then.” 

“It’d be an honor to fight by your side.” Itadori intoned blandly, smile genuine, and eyes twinkling. 

Near the end of the night, Gojo caught Yuuji alone when the kids had disappeared into Junpei’s room to play video games. He followed Yuuji back into the kitchen, passing the man dirty plates as they talked about nonsense topics. 

Gojo observed Yuuji, watching the way he held the plates, paying special attention to the sure grip he had on the cutlery and how he handled the knife he had brought out to cut a cake he had in the fridge. He did not handle the knife like he knew how to kill someone with it, but he did handle it like he knew the dangers it could wreak.

All throughout dinner, he'd given no hint that he was at all interested in the more mystical area of their lives. He was more interested in their mundane achievements. 

He had oohed and ahhed at the impressive repertoire of poems that Fushiguro could recite from memory and made sympathetic noises when Kugisaki began to complain about the material they had to slog through in their math classes. He and Gojo had ganged up on the kids when they asked if homework was really important, and they had shared a smile that made butterflies riot in Gojo's belly. 

The pair were just halfway through the dishes when Gojo had to break the companionable silence. 

“Itadori-san,” Gojo started but was cut off by Yuuji. 

“Please, call me Yuuji. Itadori-san was my grandfather.” Yuuji said not unkindly, looking sideways at Gojo. 

“Yuuji-san,” Gojo said, he just had to make sure. Gojo was not a kind man, but he was an honest one. “Do you know what Junpei does, exactly?”

Yuuji frowned, “What do you mean? Is he doing drugs?” 

“No, no,” Gojo said, mildly amused that Itadori's first thought was Junpei doing drugs. The kid was as straight-laced as they come. “He just…” 

Why was this hard all of a sudden? He thought back to the trio of kids upstairs.

Fushiguro he had raised, the boy knows how dangerous this life was. Kugisaki had been raised by her grandmother, who knew of the Jujutsu world and had lived through it. But Junpei had always been tight-lipped about the man who took custody of him after his mother had passed. The boy had only come to them two years ago, and though he had been on some harrowing assignments, Gojo sometimes feared he still did not understand the gravity of their world. Sometimes he thought it was because of the man in front of him, serving as the boy's escape from their world. 

Privately, he did not fault Junpei for wanting to escape from their world. Sometimes he wished he could also escape. 

“Gojo-san,” Yuuji said, hand slowing down, “I’ve had many conversations with Junpei about his life and his choices. He is a stubborn and brilliant boy. I can’t change his mind, I can only hope you protect and teach him well.” 

“People die,” Gojo heard himself say, immediately wanting to kick himself. “People in our situation… they fall like flies.” 

Yuuji turned to look at Gojo with blood-red eyes, and Gojo saw another face – toomanyeyestoobigteethwhyaretherebloodstainswhyarehiseyes– overlap Yuuji’s for a split second.

His Six Eyes had never failed him, they’d never malfunctioned. So why is he seeing things that aren’t there now? All evening he had kept a careful eye on the man, half-infatuated, half-wary of the way he carried himself. 

What are you? Gojo thought. This time he focused even more on Yuuji’s cursed energy, but it stayed the same low, barely there emittance of any regular non-sorcerer person. He looked deeper, trying to find the cause of this anomaly but still could not find anything. 

Was he truly from the famed Berserker’s clan? 

“Gojo-san,” Yuuji said quietly, “I know. My parents died for the very same cause, I think I was skipped because my grandfather begged and clamored the heavens to leave me alone. Now I have a boy who may die every time he leaves that door. I know. I just want– Hello Kugisaki.” 

Gojo turned, looking at a sheepish Kugisaki who inched forward. 

“Hi, sorry, Junpei said you have mango and vanilla mochi,” Kugisaki said, very diligently not looking in Gojo’s direction. His ire was not a loud thing, but it showed in the curve of his shoulder and the way his mouth twisted, and his student was familiar enough with him to know that he was annoyed at the intrusion. 

She scampered away once Itadori had sent her off with two Tupperware full of frozen treats with a “Thank you!” thrown over her shoulder, and a furtive glance at Gojo. 

“She isn’t as respectful of me as she is of you,” Gojo did not whine. He was merely observing. (The brief respite also served to confirm his suspicions, Itadori Yuuj did know about their world, but he did not have any more cursed energy than a regular person. Strangely, it only served to endear him to Gojo even more, and the desire to protect this person grew. Later, he would dissect this feeling even more, but for now... for now, he would bask in this warm presence.)

Yuuji only smiled slightly, going back to washing the dishes with renewed vigor. He passed a cloth to Gojo and the white-haired man tried desperately to keep his mind on the topic at hand instead of imagining a life of doing this and more. 

“Dry them,” he commanded, and Gojo dried them, glancing around to keep his mind off the ease with which he followed Itadori's instructions. A picture frame caught his attention, it was of Junpei and Itadori, of course, the only people that lived here. 

They were bunched up together, Junpei wearing a silly reflective birthday hat, holding two fingers up in a peace sign while Itadori squished the boy's cheek. It sobered Gojo up, reminding him that the boy in the picture had someone waiting for him at home with a cheerful smile and a warm meal and that he could very well die each time he had to go on a mission. 

“I can't promise you that Junpei won’t die,” Gojo said seriously. “But I will make him a Jujustsu Sorcerer that can hold himself down.” 

Yuuji dipped his head in an imperceptible nod. “That is all I ask for.” 

Though the children had complained and dragged their feet, Gojo roused his charges and said his goodbyes. Junpei had opted to stay but Kugisaki and Fushiguro had to be back on school grounds to make the midnight curfew. Kugisaki grumbled about the curfew and wondered when they would be able to stay out late like Gojo. 

They said their goodbyes reluctantly, Fushiguro even went as far as to wave as they walked away. Kugisaki held her new sweater close as she chattered about what they had done in Junpei’s room. 

All in all, Gojo thinks, pocketing his phone with Itadori’s number, a very good visit. 

It was only when he settled in his bed that he realized he had completely forgotten to ask about Itadori’s parents and how he knew about them. Or dig deeper about Itadori himself, ask what he had been doing all these years and why he had not chosen to be in the same world as his parents and grandfather.  

He knew that those of the Berserker’s clan would go insane if they did not have an outlet for the innate violence they were all born with. But not only did Itadori not show any signs of that instability, but he also seemed to thrive in his peaceful environment, going even as far as to seem almost docile. 

Even if he had that little hiccup of eye-changing color and face overlaying, looking back at it, Gojo supposed that Itadori was getting agitated about the topic at hand, seeing as he had calmed down immediately after Kugisaki came and unknowingly diffused the situation. 

It made him all the more attractive and Gojo’s desire to learn more about him increased.

Damn. Gojo hoped that this would not be detrimental to his line of work. 

✻

“Nanami!” 

Nanami Kento quickened his pace, maybe if he managed to get into the car before the voice got closer he could escape. A heavy hand on his shoulder brutally kicked that hope to death. 

“Nanamiiii.” That whiny tone did not bode well for anyone, but Nanami’s wish to be home before 6 pm flew out the window, because no doubt Gojo would want information that he, most likely, did not have. 

Nanami sighed deeply, before turning to face the pesky man that was unfortunately his coworker and even more, unfortunately, his friend.

“What do you want, Gojo.” Nanami prayed that the man wasn't in an inane mood to speak in circles. 

Gojo hummed falling into step with him and urging him into the car. “Well, as you know, Yoshino-kun invited his fellow third-years and me to his workplace and we got to meet his guardian, Itadori Yuuji.” 

Nanami did not know, but now he would have to swing by the bakery and see how Itadori was faring after meeting the burning dumpster pile that was Gojo. Likely disturbed and horrified after speaking with Gojo he assumed, like any normal human being. (Nanami resolutely did not think about the parkour phase the boy had when they had first met.) 

“Poor Itadori,” he said, mentally preparing himself for whatever hare-brained plot Gojo had made now. “He must’ve been scarred by you.” 

Gojo squawked, smacking Nanami on the shoulder, “How dare you? I was nothing less than a gentleman and a very good houseguest! I even dried his plates!” 

Oh. Oh, that would not do. He was now obligated to pass by the bakery and convince Itadori to run away and start a new bakery somewhere else, where Gojo would be unable to sink his grubby paws into Itadori. 

“What do you want to know?” Nanami said there was no doubt Gojo’s interest in Itadori means that he will hunt for information wherever he found it. 

And Nanami did not believe that Gojo was above stalking. The man was many things, but rational and mature he was not. 

“Is Itadori seeing anyone?” Gojo inquired, more seriously than Nanami’s ever heard him be. 

“I will not be answering that,” Nanami stated, meanwhile mentally falling to his knees in despair. Poor Itadori would never get rid of Gojo now. 

He would have to tell Yoshino-kun as well. Though Yoshino-kun was sadly fond of Gojo-sensei, he was sure he could convince the boy about what a bad idea it was for Gojo to pursue Itadori. 

For starters, Itadori did not have cursed energy. Secondly, Itadori simply did not deserve to deal with the shithead. Thirdly, the pair would probably not work, Gojo, for all his childish whims and wants, was an exceptionally closed-off man, and Itadori wore his heart on his sleeve. It would be a doomed relationship from the start. 

“So who’s Hwan-gi?” Gojo did not give up, and there was no way of escape inside a moving car unless Nanami decided to throw himself out and risk injuring himself, the option seemed more and more attractive the more Gojo kept questioning him.  

Still, he put his hand on the handle, only to have Gojo reach over and lock the car door with a cheerful, “I put on the child lock earlier.” 

Nanami sighed deeply, leaning back on the car seat to accept his fate. “Choi Hwan-gi is a Korean chef who occasionally visits Itadori, they have known each other since before puberty. I believe Choi-san is married.” He finally said. 

Gojo threw himself back in his seat, “That doesn’t mean anything though!” 

“I am fairly certain it does,” Nanami returned, silently begging Ijichi to hurry up. “Itadori has maintained that Choi-san is head over heels for his wife.” 

Gojo continued to whine all the way to Nanami’s front door, slumping against the closed door and singing terribly off-key, on purpose he knew that bastard is near perfect in everything until Nanami wrenched open the door with a glare. Gojo took the unsaid statement and waltzed into the familiar apartment with a grin. 

“Shall I start the water for tea?” He said breezily easily catching the butcher knife thrown in his direction. “Oh, don’t be like that Nanami-kun!” 

“I hope Itadori runs for the hills when he finds out.” Came the response. 

A horrified gasp erupted from Gojo and he scrambled to knock on wood. 

✻

“Itadori Yuuji.” 

Yuuji wanted to scream; just one day. Just one fucking day is all he asked for, is that too difficult? 

“Yes, brat.” 

“Literally shut the fuck up, it was a rhetorical question.” 

He and Sukuna bickered while Sukuna expanded his senses and they prepared to switch at a moment's notice. Turns out, they didn’t have to, because the monk (? The dude was wearing Buddhist robes, or a very good imitation of them, but his vibes were rancid so who knows.) held a placating hand out. 

“I don’t want to fight,” he said.

His smile raised goosebumps along Yuuji’s arms. Sukuna growled slowly in his head. The pair didn’t believe him. 

Yuuji cast a glance around the grocery store, it was empty, barring the old man hunched over his newspaper at the front. But of course, that’s precisely why Yuuji likes coming here. No one would be disturbed if Yuuji walked around with his claws out and talked out loud in response to Sukuna. 

Except for this asshole, who didn’t get the memo that it was a Yuuji-sends-time-alone-day. Worse, this guy had a considerable amount of cursed energy, crawling around him like a miasma of dread and death. Yuuji readied his cursed energy and loosened his muscles, just in case; maybe it would shake off the laziness that clung insistently to his body. 

“What do you want?” All Yuuji wanted was a simple, quiet Saturday. Catching up on groceries and buying miscellaneous products for the apartment seemed like a great plan, and it was. Until Mr., The Monk dude decided to follow him around. 

“My name is Getou Suguru.” Lie. “I only wish to speak with you.” Half-Truth. 

Wait. What? 

“What the fuck.” Sukuna's accompanying grunt of confusion only soothed Yuuji to a minor degree. A fool’s comfort, one might say. 

“Are you calling me a fool, brat?” Sukuna’s voice held a dangerous quality that would’ve sent a lesser man running for the hills. Thankfully, Yuuji was much too preoccupied with the still-smiling man in front of him to worry about the curse in his head. He was also, you know, desensitized to that tone of voice. There are only so many nightmares a guy can have before he starts shrugging them off. 

“You still haven’t answered him.” Sukuna points out instead. 

“Since when have you cared about manners?” Yuuji shoots back, “Besides, he didn’t ask anything that needed an answer. All he said was that he wanted to talk.” 

“Talk about what, exactly?” Yuuji asked out loud. 

The monk—debatable, Sukuna snorted—smiled, even more, eyebrows raising in a show of pleasure. Yuuji noticed that his face stretched elastically around the cheeks and mouth as if he had trouble getting the body to go along with his whims. 

Fake, fake, fake, his mind whispered, Sukuna’s wariness bled through, and Yuuji fought to keep his claws sheathed. The man had stitches on his forehead. 

There was a pit forming in his stomach, sharpening his senses and making him hyperaware of everything around him. Why did those stitches remind him of someone? Where had he seen them before?

“I would like to have a word with you, Itadori Yuuji,” the monk said again. 

Yuuji hesitated for a split second, before throwing caution to the wind and nodded, at last deciding to get the potential fuckfest over with. 

All he wanted was one goddamn fucking day.  

“Wait outside then.” No reason that he should stop his day because some weirdo wanted to talk to him. He should’ve taken a number and sat in the waiting room patiently. Like a civilized person would. 

… Yuuji needed to take a nap. 

Though he watched as the man’s features twisted before settling back into the pleasant mask. “Of course,” Getou (was that even his name? Why did his instincts start blaring when he said his name?) murmured, “I will wait for you outside, Itadori Yuuji.” 

Yuuji grunted, more Sukuna than himself at that moment, and kept watching until the man was outside. He stepped out, barely visible, obstructed from view by the peeling posters and decorative welcome signs. 

“That dude is so fucking shady,” Yuuji said to Sukuna immediately. Sukuna hummed his agreement. “What do you think we should do, ‘Kuna?” 

“Stop the bastardization of my holy name first of all,” Sukuna spoke with the cadence of a tired, tired man. Too bad Yuuji was a petty bitch. “Secondly, as long as he does not attempt to harm us, he shall not die.”  

Yuuji thought this was a terrible idea, and said as much to Sukuna. The curse snarled, demanding to know if he had anything better. 

“Nope,” Yuuji admitted readily. “I just hate agreeing with you.” 

He gathered his groceries and wandered outside, holding in a groan as he saw the man standing outside the store patiently. Leading the man back to his apartment was probably the worst idea Yuuji had since last Tuesday when he thought he could land a jump from his roof into his second-floor window. 

Spoiler alert, he could not. But it did not matter, because he was already in front of his apartment. Yuuji took a deep breath and hoped there wouldn't be too much damage from the visit. 

Ushering the man through his doorway, Yuuji loosened his cursed energy and curled his claws into loose fists. 

Getou smiled upon seeing his hands,” I see you have unlocked the ability to manipulate your physical appearance, Yuuji-kun.”

“Unlocked? What is this, a fucking video game?” Yuuji smiled blandly at the man, suddenly wishing for something more than just his hands. Sukuna grumbled, curses (hah) falling from his lips. 

“I understand that you wish to have no part in this… conflict. However, I wish to extend my goodwill to you, should you change your mind.” Getou smiled. 

Yuuji immediately hated that smile. It gave him the creeps, sending goosebumps racing along his spine. 

“I want absolutely nothing to do with this man.” 

“Tough shit, brat, he looks the type to stick like blood to white robes,” Sukuna rumbled disdainfully. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Like genuinely?” Yuuji asked Sukuna. 

The man, Getou if he was to be trusted, which Yuuji had decided he could not be three minutes into meeting the man, was really getting too close and it was starting to grate on his nerves. He flexed his hand inside his jacket pocket, manually suffocating the cursed energy that begged to overflow and eviscerate the man. 

“You try being an all-powerful curse in the prime of your life and then be dismembered and have your essence trapped in only your fingers and then wake up in a lowly worm’s body and have that lowly being be interested in only baking stupid cakes!” Sukuna snarled. 

Yuuji had to stop in his tracks to process Sukuna’s words. “ I thought you liked the cakes?” He finally said. 

A crippling burning ache suddenly burst throughout his body, it felt like molten lava flowing through his blood, his head threatened to split open and it felt like there were a thousand screeching birds in his ears. 

Sukuna screamed a long wordless bellow throughout it all. While the assault on his senses did make Yuuji stumble a bit, he quickly regained his surroundings with nary a grimace. Sukuna had not done an attack like that in a while, it seemed he was more agitated than he was letting on. 

Yuuji turned his attention back to the man inspecting the artwork on his walls. 

“This is Shigajiku,” the man observed, something like nostalgia painting his features. 

“Incredible astute observation,” Sukuna said, apparently over his rage, “ This one is truly a cultivated individual.”

Mentally wondering over Sukuna’s emotional state, Yuuji hummed in acknowledgment, “It was my grandfather’s favorite.” 

“Ah, Itadori Wasuke,” the man said. “I heard he had passed. It must be good to be out of that old man’s shadow, is it not?” 

Yuuji’s blood turned to ice as the man’s words seemingly echoed in his head. 

Out of his shadow? Yuuji remembered hiding behind his grandfather growing up, taking solace in his grandfather’s shadow. Knowing that as long as Itadori Wasuke’s shadow was there, he would be safe. 

How dare this man speak of his grandfather like he was a hindrance? The man who raised him? Time slowed down and then sped up. Emotions so thick and vicious slammed into him, they left him blindsided and trembling. 

How dare this—imposterfakeliar—talk about his grandfather like that?

Who was this false enigma who had found him? What did he want? How did he know of his grandfather? 

Many people knew of Itadori Wasuke, he was an accomplished man in his own right, having connections everywhere, with people from every corner of the world in his little record book. Itadori Wasuke was a man with blood on his hands and a heart of iron, a thousand people in his debt but in the end, he was a lonely, old man. Dying only with his grandson in the room, leaving a cold, bloody legacy and a bakery to care for. 

For this man to come and talk about Yuuij’s duty was a burden? He would gladly bear his grandfather's legacy like Atlas bears the sky. 

The man continued to smirk and it was enough to send Yuuji over the edge, he aimed for the soft throat, anticipating warm blood to splatter all over his face as he ripped this man’s throat. 

Sukuna was at the forefront, whispering in his ear like the devil he was. "Let go," he crooned, "boil his blood, eat his flesh, rejoice in his dying screams." 

The man’s narrowed, amused eyes widened in shock, he deflected Yuuji’s hand and threw his hand out. A curse seemed to melt out of his skin, its six legs and hulking, distorted body too big for Yuuji’s living room. It shrieked, rushing at Yuuji with a single-minded focus. 

Yuuji did not think. 

“Cleave,” he snarled from deep in his gut, and the curse exploded with a last unearthly screech. Its innards sprayed all over the room but Yuuji paid it no mind. He turned again, feeling for the haze of dread and hate that embraced the man. 

He found him outside, standing on the balcony. He was saying something, but Yuuji could not hear over Sukuna’s warble. He could not hear anything but Sukuna. Could not focus on anything but the things Sukuna was saying. 

Break his bones, remember how the bones crunched between your teeth, how easily skin tears apart. Lick his blood straight from his veins. 

He felt Sukuna growing too big inside him, wanting to burst out from his skin. Yuuji imagined that inside his clothes his skin was moving as if Sukuna was actually inside him and wanted out. 

You know what to do, you’ve always known what to do. You were born for this, born for the chase and the killing and the hunt. 

“You, Itadori Yuuji,” Sukuna hummed, “ You were born for this brutality.” 

Yuuji followed Getou to the balcony. He concentrated on his palm, forcing heat to gather and throwing the little blistering fireball right to his back. 

Yuuji did not miss. He had even managed to grab a bit of Getou’s robes, pulling the man towards him as he charged up another fireball with his free hand, burrowing his fist deep in Getou’s back. 

Getou twisted around with a snarl, unleashing another spirit, this one with long wicked talons and wings like a harpy. It screeched, its voice like nails on a chalkboard, and its talons dug deep into Yuuji’s shoulder, forcing him to let go of Getou as the man threw himself off the balcony. 

Yuuji snarled, slicing the cursed spirit’s legs off and tearing the thing apart with his hands. He tasted a bit of the blood from the cursed spirit in his mouth, swallowing the bitter taste to clear his head, but it only served to infuriate him more.

It was not human blood. 

The man had turned tail and disappeared. 

It was no matter because Yuuji’s hand was bloody, he could feel bits of flesh under his claws from where he could not resist and had dug his claws into the man’s body. He brought his hand closer to his nose and inhaled, the smell of burnt fabric and burnt skin heavy and cloying on his tongue. 

He licked the blood off his hand, and clarity returned just for a moment. 

Sukuna laughed in satisfaction. It echoed throughout his head. 

“You are learning quickly,” he said, sounding far away, “Follow the scent, and finish it.” 

Yuuji found the man in a clearing, the sun just barely having moved from its overhead position. The day was calm, with not a cloud in the sky, and the clearing was beautiful. The perfect scenic surrounding for when Yuuji bled this man dry. 

“Itadori Yuuji,” the man said, staying a healthy distance away. “I underestimated you.” 

Yuuji’s smile was more Sukuna than Yuuji's now, and he knew that if he glanced down, his shadow would give away his otherness, the grotesque hulking shape writhing, and twisting in inhuman angles. 

“I did not mean offense with my previous statement,” the man said, holding up a placating hand. 

Yuuji did not listen to him but instead inhaled, the faint ting of still oozing blood and already infected wound like a balm to his senses. Sukuna ripped open his cheek, his blood-red eye blinking into consciousness. 

“Fall back,” he said. “I want my turn.” 

Yuuji did not give an inch. He could feel Sukuna’s annoyance, but he did not move, instead shoving Sukuna to the back of his mind, to the dark crevices where Sukuna first inhabited when they first merged. 

“What do you want?” Yuuji asked, just barely able to drag his voice up from the gut-deep snarl to something that sounded vaguely human, “Why did you look for me?” 

It was not a trap, he knew. He had thrown out his cursed energy to blanket the clearing and surrounding forest when he had followed the man here. There were no other cursed energy signals here. Not like with Jogo. 

There would never be an attack like Jogo’s again. 

“You killed Jogo.” 

No accusation, no anger, just an observation. Yuuji eased out of his hunched-over crouch but did not lower his guard. 

“I did.” He was not ashamed, and would gladly kill a thousand more. 

He did not breathe a word of how deliciously Jogo’s bones crunched in between his teeth, or how he had skinned and torn out the cursed spirit’s eye, he wasn’t able to keep the eye for long anyway.

The man nodded, hands disappearing into his robes before pulling out a cube. Small enough to fit into his hand and decorated with strange moving eyes, Yuuji immediately felt a strong sense of foreboding. 

It was not helped when Sukuna slammed back into the front of his mind with a scream. "GO BACK FURTHER OR YOU’LL GET TRAPPED."

Alarmed, Yuuji did what he was told, leaping back several meters. He landed on a boulder that promptly crumbled beneath his feet from the force, and he was left to stand right on the lake. 

The man smirked again, and Yuuji was suddenly tired but still angry. The intensity of emotions made him lightheaded, but it served to fish him out of the bone-deep rage that consumed his very being. 

“What do you fucking want?!” he snapped, throwing an irritated fireball at the man again. “Why aren’t you talking? Why did you fucking take me on a damn fucking stupid chase? Speak your fucking mind and leave me alone!” 

Each sentence was accompanied by a fireball, each getting bigger and bigger as Yuuji’s frustration climbed. Meanwhile, the man kept just barely missing them, dancing around the clearing as he tried not to get burned again. 

It was surprisingly cathartic to throw those balls of fire and have the man struggle to not get hit. 

Yuuji knew that his back wound would be severely scorched and would usually hinder someone’s ability to move. But this man was moving like water, it made Sukuna more than annoyed. It was annoying to have to focus on Sukuna and the man in front of him. 

“This is the Prison Realm,” the man said, holding out the box flat on his palm, “It is a token of my goodwill for you.” 

That made Yuuji stop in his tracks. “ What the everloving fuck is a prison realm, ‘Kuna?” 

“It’s the most powerful trapping device ever created. It can trap anything within a certain radius, ‘gate open’ to open it, then it absorbs whatever is inside and ‘gate close’ to trap until the person or thing inside either kill itself or dies,” Sukuna explained. “ I do not know why he wants to give it to you. “

“And you’re just giving it to us?” Yuuji asked half incredulously and half suspicious. “Why?” 

“A token of my goodwill,” the man said, “Should you ever want to join us, we will welcome you.”

Yuuji paused. Taking in the words. 

“Sukuna, I think this man wants to court me.” Yuuji thought hysterically. “ I want to go home.”

Sukuna, the bastard, was quiet for several long heartbeats, and then he began to laugh so uproariously that he soon choked on his own spit. Then he began to wheeze and gasp for air. Yuuji knew that if he focused inwardly, the damned spirit would be on the ground, pounding the metaphorical floor in mirth. 

The man set the cube down on the grass and bowed. “I will see you again sometime, Itadori Yuuji.” 

Yuuji, because he was still bitter over the comment of his grandfather and because he was still freaked out over the implications of the ‘gift’, threw an arrow of fire at the retreating man, nearly missing but managing to catch the tail end of his robes. 

He waited long enough to be sure that the man had left before cautiously picking up the cube. Yuuji turned it around, the back of it had a stitched closed slit, presumably also an eye, he slipped it into his pocket and turned around to survey the damage he had done. Grimacing, he spent a few hours putting the fires out. 

“Brat,” Sukuna said, mirth and grogginess coloring his tone, the damned spirit had taken a nap when he realized that Yuuji would be putting fires out for a while. “There is a finger nearby.” 

“Ooh,” Yuuji perked up, “Finger number fourteen, here we come.” 

✻

“Junpei!” 

Junpei turned around at the call of his name, Yuuta running up to catch him. He smiled at his senior, heart fluttering as the older boy smiled back. 

Yuuta threw his arm over Junpei’s shoulder and began to lead him towards one of the courtyards they used to let Orizuki Rika out while they played with some stray cats. They settled down on a bench beneath a large tree. 

“What’s up, Senpai?” Junpei asked, blinking at a little grey and black kit that had popped its head out from the underbrush. 

“You know how we've been having a plethora of cursed spirits popping up everywhere?” Yuuta said after a bit of silence, making Junpei look up at his senior. 

He nodded warily, “The over-abundance is why we’ve been going on so many missions right? Did Gojo-sensei assign you a mission?” 

Yuuta nodded, “He assigned us a mission.” 

Junpei blinked then blinked again. He and Yuuta had never been on a mission by themselves. Oh, sure, he and Yuuta have gone on missions together, but Gojo-sensei has accompanied them, along with Fushiguro and Kugisaki. Or sometimes he’d have to go with Inumaki-senpai and Yuuta. 

There was also the mission he had with Maki-senpai and Panda, but that one ended in the three of them having to carry each other back to Jujutsu High because they had exhausted themselves too much. Shoko-sensei did not let them go on another mission together since then. 

“Why?” he asked, “Is there something he wants us to do in specific?” 

“You’re so observant,” Yuuta smiled, forcing Junpei to think about how unsettling Yuuji was in the early, dark morning. “But yeah, Gojo-sensei wants us to gather information about the whereabouts of Ryoumen Sukuna’s fingers.” 

Oh, fuck.

Junpei froze. “We’re going to be looking for Ryoumen Sukuna’s fingers?” 

Yuuta smiled sheepishly, misinterpreting Junpei’s wariness, “No, no, don’t worry! We won’t be transporting the finger or anything, we just need to confirm that that finger is where it’s supposed to be.” 

Junpei slowly nodded, “Is that all we’ll be doing?” 

“I think so,” Yuuta said thoughtfully, twisting his ring around his finger, “If not, then Gojo-sensei will fill us in some more.” 

Yuuta stood up, holding out a hand for Junpei to take. His expression was open and relaxed, and his cursed energy was draped around him like a protective shroud. Rika’s influence, Junpei knew; Yuuta’s sword was slung over his left shoulder and strapped on his right thigh, a dagger Junpei had gifted him last year. 

One that Yuuji had given him. 

Junpei let out a sigh, taking Yuuta’s hand and allowing him to pull Junpei up. Sometimes Junpei wondered how Yuuta would take the news that his guardian was the vessel to one of the most powerful curses that have ever walked the earth. 

He hoped they wouldn’t kill each other. 

But he knew that they would definitely be sizing each other up because even though Yuuta liked to pretend to be mostly harmless, someone with that much cursed energy wasn’t going to be the nicest person around. That much power changes a person, even if they don’t show it. 

“What are you thinking about?” Yuuta asked after some time of them walking through Jujutsu High quietly. 

“I wonder if we’re going to be able to swing by a gift shop during our mission,” Junpei said automatically. 

He very carefully pretended not to notice that Yuuta hadn’t let go of his hand as they walked. Their clasped hands swung gently between them. 

Yuuta laughed, reaching up to adjust his scabbard– Junpei had a very real moment of fear where he thought Yuuta would drop his hand– on his shoulder. “You are getting more and more like Gojo-sensei.” 

Junpei shuddered theatrically, “Perish the thought, my good sir. Gojo-sensei is one of a kind.” 

Speak of the devil and the devil shall appear. Two heavy arms threw themselves over the pair’s shoulders as the man himself appeared between them. Junpei quietly mourned the feeling of Yuuta’s hand in his even as he cried out in shock. 

“Oh, the pain!” their teacher cried out, leaning heavily against them both, “I can’t believe mine own students hold me in such contempt! I don’t know how I’ll ever recover!” 

An aggravated sigh to the left of the trio let them know they were not alone. Gojo’s weight was lifted off them as Nanami came into their line of sight. 

“These students know what is good and what is bad,” Nanami deadpanned, turning to Junpei he said, “It is worrying that you are wondering about that, though. Come, I shall take you to Shoko to ensure you are not sick.” 

Gojo squawked in indignation, throwing himself against Nanami who neatly sidestepped the white-haired nuisance. Yuuta laughed softly at their antics, but Junpei noticed that the pair seemed to carry more tension in their shoulders, and Nanami’s eyes were tense. 

Gojo-sensei’s Infinity was activated, and usually, when he teased them he wouldn’t have it on, once saying that he preferred being on equal footing with his students. That was also the day Kugisaki discovered he was ticklish and they had had a field trip with that tidbit of information. 

“Anyway!” Gojo clapped, apparently over his despair and bringing Junpei out of his thoughts, “Junpei-kun! Has Yuuta filled you in on your mission?” 

Junpei nodded, “Won’t I be in the way of Yuuta-senpai if we come across a Curse Spirit, though?”

“Normally, yes,” Nanami answered, Junpei noticed that his hands flexed and there was an undertone of resentment, “But because Fushiguro and Kugisaki will be aiding Maki in her mission, and Inumaki is on a solo mission. Panda cannot go on this mission, as he is still recovering from his last mission.” 

“And also,” Gojo added, not quite looking at either of them, “I recently got word from the elders that there are some Cursed Spirits that may or may not be special grade.” Junpei and Yuuta looked at each other in confusion. “Normally, yes, usually I would go myself and destroy these spirits.” 

Here Gojo stopped, an uncharacteristically hateful and dark look crossed over his face, “However, the elders insisted that Yoshino-kun accompany Okkutsu-kun on this mission, as they believe that Yoshino-kun has developed enough to be able to of aid.”

Junpei distantly felt Yuuta grip his hand tightly as the implications fell like a stone in his stomach. It was like the floor had been pulled out from beneath him. The elders wanted him to go on a mission where there could be Special Grade Curses? And do what exactly? 

“That’s a suicide mission!” he heard Yuuta spit out and wow, he’s never heard Yuuta use that tone with anyone. “Junpei is a Grade Three sorcerer! You said that this wouldn’t be a hard mission!” 

“The elders have said that if Yoshino-kun can… survive,” Gojo choked out, continuing as if he hadn’t heard Yuuta, “He will automatically be upgraded to a Grade 2 sorcerer with special leeway.” 

The quartet stood in silence for several long seconds, until Junpei said quietly, “Your hands are tied, aren’t they?” 

Gojo did not quite slump, but his nod was tight, and his lips were thin, “I tried to reason with them. I tried threatening them, but they just assigned me more missions, three overseas and one in Fukuoka.” 

Junpei nodded slowly, “We knew this would happen, maybe not as blatant as this. But… we knew this was coming.” 

“Junpei…” Yuuta said, “You don’t have to–” 

“We do, though,” Junpei smiled tiredly, “It’ll be alright, I’ll live through this and we’ll get back at them somehow.” 

Gojo pulled down his blindfold and took Junpei by the shoulder, it was a little unsettling, to be under Gojo’s full attention. His sky-blue eyes looked right into him, and his hands gripping his shoulder so tightly it seemed like he was trying to ground himself. 

“I swear, Junpei,” he said gravely, “I will raise hell for the elders when you come back.” 

When. Not if, but when. Junpei wasn’t sure if Gojo was trying to convince himself or Junpei, but he smiled at his teacher, “Of course, I’m going to come back. Yuuji would raise hell if I died.” 

Gojo’s eyes widened at the mention of his guardian, “Oh shit, Yuuji.” 

Junpei did laugh at that, Gojo’s tone of voice sounding so distressed but it served as an excellent mood changer as Gojo fell back into a lighter mood. He patted his teacher’s back. 

“Don’t worry sensei, I’ll make sure to tell Yuuji that you tried.” He reassured him. 

Gojo nodded mournfully, then perked up, "We can probably swing by the bakery before we leave!" 

"No, we cannot." Nanami shot down, but he looked just as unhappy, "The elders will be in contact to ensure we head straight to our missions." 

He nodded over to where two cars were parked, Akari-san in one and Ijichi in the other. They both waved. Yuuta and Junpei waved back. 

✻

From sushi anti:

you were right (11:37)

 

To sushi anti:

I generally am yeah (11:38)

about what tho (11:38) 

 

From sushi antit: 

The elders are literally sending me off to die (11:38) 

w yuuta tho (11:39)

 

To sushi anti: 

they’re what (11:39)

? (11:39)

 

From sushi anti: 

Gojo said that the elders are sending me and yuuta to look for one of sukuna’s fingers and also investigate something about special grades. (11:40)

Gojo said he tried to fight them on it but they just gave him four missions back to back, all of them far away. (11:40) 

 

To sushi anti

Junpei (11:40)

If you die i’m razing that fucking place to the ground (11:40) 

 

From sushi anti:

sir yes sir (11:41) 

brb, they got more information for us right now (11:42)

ttyl (11:42)  

 

To sushi anti: 

i’ll  eat their bones if you don’t (11:42) 

Chapter Text

Junpei rested his head on the car window, watching the trees pass by as Nitta-san drove and filled them in on the specifics of the mission. 

“It’s relatively simple,” she was saying. “Okkotsu-kun will be doing most of the fighting, if any. Originally this was going to be a simple reconnaissance mission. Still, due to the reports of a Special Grade being spotted, the elders felt it'd be safer to send two sorcerers instead of only one.” 

Junpei stared at her, almost in awe of the way she was trying so hard to pretend like it was normal that he, a Third Grade, would be of any help to a Special Grade like Yuuta-senpai. At best he’d be a deadweight, at worse… 

Everyone knew that a mission like this was only given to Special Grades. A Third Grade like Junpei helping a Special Grade like Yuuta-senpai? Yeah, okay, pull the other leg. He should’ve gone coffin shopping with Kugisaki when she offered. 

His fingers itched. He wanted to be back at Jujutsu Tech and laze around the lounge with Kugisaki and Fushiguro. He wanted to be in the bakery with Yuuji, baking delicacies and shooing the cats out of the kitchen. 

He wanted to be anywhere else but here. All but marching to his own death. 

A cool hand suddenly covered his own. Junpei looked down, tracing the pale hand to a pale arm and then to Yuuta-senpai. Dark blue eyes bore into his own. Kugisaki once said that Yuuta-senpai’s full focus was super creepy, almost like the uncanny valley sometimes. Junpei personally never had that problem, he secretly liked having the older boy’s full focus. 

“Your hands were trembling,” Yuuta-senpai murmured. “Are you scared?” 

Yes, Junpei wanted to say. I’m scared that I’ll die. I’m afraid of leaving everything behind. I’m scared that Yuuji will be alone and he’ll lose it. 

“I think—” Junpei started too quietly and he cleared his throat to try again. “I think it’s the adrenaline setting in.” 

Yuuta-senpai nodded slowly. “That’s good,” he said, his hand curled around Junpei’s fingers, not letting go. “Just make sure you don’t tire yourself out before we start, the crash is overwhelming the first time.” 

Junpei looked down at their intertwined hands, Yuuta-senpai’s hand was paler than his. And colder. 

Yuuji had told him once that a sorcerer’s hands were cold, like a corpse. 

It’s because of the cursed energy constantly coursing through their body. He’d said, eyes narrowed and focused on the cookies in the oven. It’s their blood that’s warm; you stick a hand inside a sorcerer and it feels like soup that just finished boiling.

Junpei had wanted to ask how Yuuji knew that, because that didn’t sound like common knowledge. But Yuuji had looked at him with too-yellow eyes and a smile that stretched a little too wide and Junpei decided not to ask; plausible deniability and all that. 

(Junpei never had an issue with Yuuta-senpai’s full attention because Yuuji’s was much more unnerving. But like all of Yuuji’s other oddities, Junpei grew used to it.) 

Junpe’s attention was brought back to his present as the car came to a stop. Nitta-san turned to them, her eyes falling to their clasped hands, but valiantly made no sound. Junpei looked at Yuuta-senpai from the corner of his eyes, silently questioning him. 

Yuuta-senapi paid him no mind. “Akari-san? Is this the location?” he asked, turning to look out the window curiously, his hand still wrapped around Junepi’s. 

Nitta-san nodded, gesturing to the heavily wooded area that had the beginning of fog around the tree line. Junpei wanted to gag at the cliche-ness of it all, this was exactly like all the horror movies started; he bet the woods got even darker at night too. He shared a look with Yuuta-senpai, who wore a dubious look.  

“This is where the reports say the curses have been seen around,” she said, too cheerful for the gravity of their situation. She continued, oblivious to Junpei’s plight. “I will have my phone on me the entire time so when you guys are done, be sure to send me a ping of your location or return here so that I can pick you up!” 

She even gave a little victory sign with her fingers, her thumb, ring, and pinky finger curling around her phone. Junpei was in awe of her upbeat attitude, he wondered how she did it. 

“Right…” Yuuta said, opening his car door and tugging Junpei out after him “Thank you for your hard work. We’ll be sure to call you when we’re finished.” 

Nittai-san gave another victory sign, waving as she turned around and drove off in the same direction she came from. Junpei sighed louder than he meant to as he watched her leave, making Yuuta-senpai hide a laugh behind his free hand. 

“Is there a specific direction we should go?” Junpei asked, turning to squint up at the sun. Yuuji always said to look at the sun when unsure where to look, that the celestial light would always serve as a guide in times of uncertainty—whatever that meant. 

“East,” Yuuta-senpai responded, hopping down the bridge rail and landing softly in the gently moving river. “I can sense cursed energy going that way.”

Junpei sighed quietly, gripping the rail and hopping over with the grace Yuuji had beaten into him, and the elegance Sukuna had threatened from him. He landed on both feet, grimacing at the splashback wetting his calves. 

“That was good,” Yuuta-senpai complimented. 

My shoes got wet, Junpei nearly snapped. Instead, he nodded, straightening up and wondering if Yuuji would ask about his acrobatic moves. Probably, the demanding ass. 

He followed Yuuta-senpai quietly, mind wandering from the slow river to the cheery bakery that was his sanctuary. They had been running low on flour and butter, and Yuuji had been viciously negotiating with their suppliers to keep their prices low and shipments on time. 

The blueberries were in season too, Junpei made a mental note to make sure to send off a message to remind Yuuji. He wondered if Yuuji would begin stress-baking, or if he would up the amount of cherry pies he would make; they had an awful lot of cherries that came in the past week. 

He sighed again, eyes dropping to look into the river’s clear water. Tiny rock lined the bed of the stream, and Junpei spotted fish swimming along the deeper areas. Yuuta-senpai was walking just as quietly next to him, presumably tracking the cursed energy trail. 

“Junpei,” Yuuta-senpai called out to him softly. “Listen, when we find this Cursed Spirit, leave it to me. You’re not as strong as me, so don’t worry about having to fight it. I’m strong enough to take it down myself.”

Junpei wanted to slump over in relief. He wasn’t arrogant enough to think that he could take on a Special Grade, and Yuuta-senpai was said to be almost on par with Gojo. 

“Then why was I told to come along?” Junpei asked, shoving his hands into his pockets. “What use can I be when I’m nowhere near Special Grade?”

Yuuta shifted uncomfortably. “I’m not sure.” 

Junpei made a noise in the back of his throat, looking away. He could feel Yuuta-senpai’s eyes on him but the older boy did not do anything else. He was glad for it; glad that they were pretending it wasn’t a conspiracy to kill him. 

“So I just,” Junpei trailed off, gesturing vaguely to the side. “Stand to the side? Hide?” 

Yuuta-senpai gave him a sheepish smile. “Yes?”

Junpei didn't actually have a problem with that. The people who had sent him on this mission probably did though. 

Yuuta-senpai waved away his worry when he voiced it. “It’s not like they can afford to have someone tailing us. We’re stretched thin as is. We can just say you were knocked out early on and I was able to finish the mission successfully.” 

Junpei didn't think it would be that simple, but he kept his worries to himself and matched his senior’s strides. 

Yuuta-senpai didn’t let silence take over for long. “Tell me about your, uh, guardian. What’s he like?”

Junpei nearly tripped, caught off guard. “Yuuji? Why?” 

Yuuta-senpai shrugged, looking in the opposite direction. Junpei spied the top of his ears turning pink, though. Whatever, he hardly talked about Yuuji to Kugisaki and Fushiguro. Not because of any secrecy vow, despite what his friends thought. 

Junpei just knew that once they figured out how buff Yuuji actually was, they’d be insufferable. He didn’t think Yuuta-senpai would care about that sort of thing. 

“Hmm, where to start?” Junpei wondered aloud. “His name is Itadori Yuuji, he’s… nineteen? Nearly twenty. He’s my legal guardian, I live with him when I’m not at Jujutsu Tech. He owns a bakery and he has two cats.” 

Junpei nodded, satisfied, that covered the basics of who Yuuji was. He glanced over to Yuuta-senpai, who rubbed his chin ike he was thinking very hard. 

“Does he like wine?” Yuuta-senpai asked hesitantly. Junpei stumbled over his feet, startled. 

“I… don’t know? He usually avoids wines.” Did… did Yuuta-senpai have a crush on Yuuji? A crinkle of paper made him look over, Yuuta-senpai was smoothing out a piece of paper.

What even...?

“What’s that?” Junpei asked, peering over at it. 

“Ah,” Yuuta-senpai said, looking incredibly embarrassed and apologetic. “Sorry, Gojo-sensei asked me to ask you these things. About… Itadori-san, was it? He made a list.” 

Junpei felt that he was going to break the record for most confused blinking ever. 

“He made a list? What for?”

Yuuta-senpai handed the list over. Junpei inspected it. Favorite wine(s), favorite foods, favorite color, favorite treat, favorite date spot, favorite romantic meal…

Junpei looked back at Yuuta-senpai. “… Gojo-sensei has a crush on Yuuji?” 

Junpei thought back to every interaction between Gojo-sensei and Yuuji, which weren't many. they met at the bakery exactly once, and then they'd gone back to their apartment and had a meal. Junpei had walked in on them talking in the kitchen, but they didn't seem particularly close. In fact, they had looked a little weary, like they were discussing something morbid. 

The more Junpei thought about it the more he didn’t know how to feel. Did Yuuji even remember Gojo-sensei?

Yuuta-senpai looked deeply sorry about all the choices he’d made in his life that led up to this moment. “I think so.” 

Junpei made a thoughtful noise. Would they even work out? Was this just a passing fancy? He didn’t know Gojo-sensei even liked men! Maybe it was just a fascination with the treats Yuuji had baked. 

Gojo-sensei did have a sweet tooth. Yuuji's various treats were not something to scoff at. 

Junpei had to make sure of something though. “You don’t have a crush on Yuuji, do you senpai?” 

Yuuta-senpai squeaked, throwing up his hands in front of him. “NO,” he shouted, wincing at Junpei’s startled flinch. He cleared his throat, cheeks pink. “No, I– I don’t know him? I’ve never met him before so. Uh. Yeah. I mean, no.” 

Did Junpei dare? 

“Do you—” No, actually. He was a coward, through and through. He’d rather not know anything at all. 

“Hm?” Yuuta-senapi glanced at him. 

Junpei waved his hand, smiling though he was inwardly panicking. Distract him! He needed a distraction! “Do you think they have a chance together?” 

Yes. Excellent. Very good. 

Actually, now that he thought about it… did Gojo-sensei and Yuuji fit together as a couple? Gojo-sensei was older, but he was prone to childishness. And Yuuji had a thousand-year-old spirit living inside him. 

Junpei wondered if Sukuna would protest the relationship. Hmmm. Probably. He turned back to Yuuta-senpai, who also seemed deep in thought. 

“I… don’t know Itadori-san very well,” Yuuta-senpai repeated, then he paused, turning to Junpei. “I don’t actually know him at all.”

“I’ll introduce you!” Junpei assured him. Strangely, Yuuta-senpai looked worried. “He’ll like you! Don’t worry.” 

✻

The first attack took them by surprise. 

Yuuta-senpai suddenly stopped, looking around with a frown on his face.

Junpei made a questioning noise, trying to figure out what had made them stop. He glanced at the trees, which Yuuta-senpai seemed to be staring at hard. Junpei had belatedly noticed that the ambient sounds of their surroundings had become quiet, too quiet. 

One moment Junpei was glancing between Yuuta-senpai and the trees, working himself up to ask if now was the time that Junepi would be taking a step back, and the next he was thrown meters away as a screech pierced the air. 

He was not prepared to be launched dozens of feet away, slamming against hard ground with no warning. Not even Yuuji did that, he usually gave a warning. When he opened his eyes, Junpei’s vision was blurry and his hearing seemed muted.

His head hurt. His back hurt. 

He blinked up blearily, someone was shouting— Yuuta-senpai? There was something in front of him. Junpei tried to get up, managing to stagger up to his knees and turn to the noise in front of him. 

The second attack separated them. Junpei might have blacked out. 

When he came to, there was something in front of him. Something strange. It made his stomach roll. It wasn’t human. 

Junpei suddenly thought of Mahito and his creations. His chest tightened in horror. Was he here? Panic began to claw up into his throat. No, no, was Mahito here? 

No, no, Mahito died. He’s dead; Yuuji killed him. 

This looked like something he’d made. The mishappen lumpy body, the strange color, the macabre grin on the place he assumed was an abdomen, the face stuck in a scream with black liquid dripping down the holes where eyes used to be. 

Mahito was dead; Yuuji killed him. He’s not coming back. This is a completely different curse. Junpei turned to the side and threw up. Mahito was dead. Mahito was dead. Mahito is dead. 

The thing laughed again, darting to and fro on all four of its– feet? Hands? Limbs, Junpei decided. They were limbs and the thing was laughing. Waiting. 

Mahito’s creation didn’t do that. They could barely move, could barely make a sound that wasn’t moaning. Mahito was dead; Yuuji killed him. Yuuji made sure that Mahito wouldn’t touch him anymore. 

Junpei scrambled up, the world suddenly coming back into sharp focus with such abruptness it was another dizzying blur. Junepi was in the stream that Yuuta-senpai and he had started in, but the bridge was nowhere to be seen. His head throbbed, there was the aftertaste of vomit in his mouth. Junpei looked around, but he couldn’t see Yuuta-senpai. Where was he? 

The thing was laughing, making weird, disturbing noises all the while, seemingly enjoying his fear. 

“Ha ha ha! Big brother and I won’t let you pass!” said the thing, its voice distorted, childish, and two-fold. “We have an important job, you know!” 

"Do you know a curse named Mahito?" Junpei asked. He had to make sure, he just had to make sure. 

Junpei didn't know what he'd do if he learned that Mahito had survived. He's not sure what Yuuji would do if he learned Mahito had survived. 

"Mahito?" The curse paused, just out of reach. "Mahito is dead! Dead, dead, dead!" 

Mahito was dead; this was not one of his creations. Junpei breathed out. He barely got his feet under him when he was forced to roll away again, a spout of red, steaming liquid shooting out from the abdomen mouth on the curse. Definitely not one of Mahito’s. 

“Senpai!” He shouted, looking around wildly. “Yuuta-senpai!”  

“Ha ha!” The curse cried out, dancing along. “You’re all alone! Big brother has the other one!” 

It spat out steaming blood again, and Junpei was forced to jump back. He cursed as his foot caught on a small shrub and he went down. The throb in his head returned with a vengeance. Just barely managing to get back on his feet, Junpei looked around wildly, having lost sight of the curse for a moment. 

A moment is all your enemy needs to kill you, Yuuji's voice whispered. Junpei spun in a circle, his cursed energy lashing out in all sorts of directions, trying to find where the cursed spirit had gone. He ignored the stab of fear at the curse’s taunting. Surely, Yuuta-senpai was nearby?

He summoned Orizuki who was agitatedly floating around, luminescent tentacles trying to reach out to entangle the curse. Not that it was remotely helpful, since he couldn't see the curse, much less direct Orizuki to take a hit. 

The thing had mentioned a brother, were they a pair? He'd never known curses to team up. A mob of curses, sure, they were often created from the same source, but they were just as likely to fight each other as a sorcerer. But to claim familial bonds and work together? Something was very wrong. 

“Why are you doing this?” Junpei called out, trying to lead the curse back to where he thought he sensed Yuuta-senpai's cursed energy was. “Who's your brother? Who are you?" 

The curse only laughed again, repeating its words. "All alone! Big brother had the other one far, far away from here!" 

There! Junpei sent Orizuki towards the spot of condensed cursed energy, but the curse just barely managed to get away.

It became a crude caricature of a chase, a fight between two individuals too wary to close the gap. Junpei would feint forward with Orizuki jabbing just a second too late and darting back at each bloody stream that was spat out. The thing would laugh and taunt, never dancing too close to Junpei. it was as infuriating as it was nerve-wracking. 

Just once, Junpei glanced back behind him to see where the liquid had hit. Steam rose from the ground, and the ground seemed to be dissolving. That answered a question Junpei didn’t think to ask himself in the first place. 

The blood-liquid was acidic, and most likely a technique. 

“What are you hiding?” Junpei threw out desperately. 

“Big job!” The thing laughed again. “VERY big job! Top Secret!”

Junpei could hear the capitalization of the words. He hadn’t seen this curse in their reports. No one had mentioned two curses. Nitta-san hadn’t mentioned anything about two Special Grade curses working together. This was bad. This was very bad.  

Either intelligence was spotty or this was a new curse that had just shown up. Either option meant trouble. Where was Yuuta-senapi?! Junpei was not equipped to fight this thing. 

“Is it another curse?” Junpei asked, fruitlessly. "Are you working for another curse?" 

The thing only laughed again, almost swiping Junpei in the stomach if not for Orizuki encasing him in its body. The curse whined, prowling around Junpei, trying to suss out a weak spot. Junpei moved with it, unwilling to let it out of his sight, outclassed as he was. 

“Orizuki!” Junpei cried out, taking a chance and darting forward. Thankfully, the curse hadn’t been expecting it, and Orizuki was able to pierce the body with a spike. 

The thing shrieked, twisting into itself in such a way that it hurt Junpei's mind to follow. Again, Junpei had Orizuki pierce the thing, and his poison seemed to be working. Junpei panted, taking several steps back to try and catch his breath. 

His head throbbed and, when he touched the back of his head, it stung. His fingertips were red when he drew his hand back. Fuck, he thought to himself. I probably have a concussion. Should I be moving? 

“That hurts!” The curse cried out, darting forward and spewing more blood at Junpei. 

Junpei wasn’t quick enough to avoid the blood this time, and he was caught in its entirety. He screamed as its effects took immediate hold. The curse squealed in victory, watching in cruel delight as spiky flowers bloomed on Junpei’s skin. 

It was hot, like the cigarettes that his old high school bullies used to press onto his skin. Junpei’s stomach rolled, the nausea never having quite left since he encountered the curse; it smelled like a rotting corpse and eggs. Somehow, impossibly, it burrowed under his skin and began to burn his blood. 

It hurt, it hurt, it hurt. 

“Orizuki!” He screamed, blindly throwing a hand out. Whether Orizuki had followed his command wasn’t his problem. What took up his attention was the fact that the burn did not lessen, it just spread. It kept burning and burning and burning and—

Again, he was doused with its full force. Junpei went down, hard. 

I’m going to die. This is how I die. 

There was vomit in his mouth again, Junpei turned to the side, or at least he thought he did, lost in his pain as he was. The pain throbbed and screamed and kept him trapped, running licks of fire down his face and torso and arms. 

Junpei did not have the threshold for pain the way Yuuji did. For all the training he did with Yuuji, the one thing he always refused to do was increase Junpei’s pain tolerance. Junpei’s stamina was good, his physical combat just ahead of Kugisaki’s, and he never hesitated to fight dirty. 

But he wasn’t used to intense, sudden pain, and this was unlike anything he’d ever experienced. Junpei could barely breathe, lungs seizing with every spasm, muscles feeling like they were experiencing the worst cramps ever all at once. 

Why was this happening? (it hurts) Junpei didn’t deserve any of this. He hadn’t even wanted to go on this mission. It really was a suicide mission.

But why? What had he done? What sin had he committed? He’d never actually killed anyone. (it hurts) His bullies had faced legal consequences, courtesy of Yuuji, and moved away to different prefectures; he hadn’t even thought of them in a long time! 

He'd done nothing to anger the elders, higher-ups, whatever they were called. Gojo-sensei had assured him he’d taken care of that. That Yuuji’s mere presence silenced the most outspoken of them. (it hurts)

How long had this been in the works? Did Gojo-sensei know this would happen? (it hurts) How long had this been planned out? Is that why he was sent out to this mission? 

He should’ve taken Kugisaki’s advice and acted sick. He was sure Yuuta-senpai could’ve—

Junpei screamed again. Or he thought he did. He wasn’t sure anymore. 

It hurts it hurts it hurts. Yuuta-senpai, Yuuta-senpai, where are you where are you where is Yuuji I want Yuuji he can fix this I’m scared I’m scared where are you I don’t want to die i don’t want to die I don’t want to die I don't want to die I don't want to die I DON'T WANT TO DIE

I DON’T WANT TO DIE

I DON’T WANT TO DIE

I DON’T WANT TO DIE

✻

Junpei collapsed on the ground, bruised and aching beyond what he thought imaginable. “No, more,” he wheezed, hands in the air. “Please, I can’t take it anymore. Have mercy.” 

 “C’mon Jun, we’re barely two hours in!” Yuuji had a teasing smile on his face, not even trying to pretend he was even remotely tired, the asshole. 

Barely two hours in. Yuuji was insane, any normal person would’ve called it quits at this point. Any normal person would be in Junpei’s place right now. Maybe not Maki-senpai, but Junpei was pretty sure Yuuji and Maki-senpai were cut from the same cloth. 

“You’re not tapping out now, are you? We still got our actual sparring practice to get through.” 

Maki-senpai would’ve let him call it quits by now, actually. Even she had limits, Junpei had seen them. 

Junpei didn’t have enough air in his lungs to protest, he just let out a long whine. If he could, he’d kick his feet in protest. As it was, he didn’t. Yuuji laughed at him, walking over to nudge his sorry self with a foot. 

Yuuji settled down next to him, leaning back into his hands and he stretched his feet out in front of him. “A break then,” Yuuji allowed, poking him in various places. “Ten– no, fifteen minutes.”

Junpei could’ve cried. Instead, he just raised a fist into the air. He’ll take what he can get. His back was a giant, massive bruise so Junpei rolled onto his stomach, where the bruises weren’t as bothersome. 

Aw, dirt. 

Did he want to press his face into the dirt, or did he want to lay on the giant, huge, massive bruise that was his back?

Decision, decisions. 

Junpei settled his face into the dirt. 

Sweet, sweet dirt. Gentle dirt who’d never punched him so hard he’d had bruises for days or kicked out the back of his legs or hit his funny bone or mercilessly targeted his ticklish spots or made him run up and down stairs dozens and dozens of times or—

“I can hear you, y‘know.” Had he been speaking aloud? Oops. 

Junpei turned his head to Yuuji, ending him as brilliant a smile as he could. He got a flick in the forehead for his troubles. 

“If you can talk, you can stand,” Yuuji said, standing up and hooking his hands under Junpei’s armpits. 

Junpei might’ve wailed into the dirt. Maybe. 

In an attempt to buy himself more time, Junpei cried out the first thing he could think of. ”Do you have a Domain?”

“What kind? Innate, I don’t have one,” Yuuji said, before cocking his head to the side. “Oh, I’ll probably develop my own later on.” 

Junpei sat up, confused. He was pretty sure that wasn’t how it worked, but whatever. “There’s a difference?” 

“What are they teaching you over there?” Yuuji grumbled. Junpei wanted to protest, he was pretty sure someone had mentioned it before! Fushiguro, or Gojo-sensei, even off-handedly. “The place where Sukuna is inside is his Innate Domain. Malevolent Shrine, remember? It’s his mindscape.” He broke off there, frowning at whatever Sukuna was no doubt saying. 

“But I thought Domains were physical?” Junpei interrupted wanting Yuuji to stay focused on their talk. Yuuij focused back on him, making a so-so motion with his hand. 

“You’re thinking about Domain Expansions,” Yuuji clarified. “Those are the physical manifestations of Innate Domains, which are Domains that Jujutsu Sorcerers are born with. Domain Expansions use barrier techniques and imbue the user’s innate Domain in it. Think of it as pushing your mindscape into the physical world.” 

Junpei sat back, tilting his head from side to side. That was similar to what Gojo-sensei had mentioned, but an extremely in-depth explanation wasn’t Gojo-sensei’s strong suit, the perfectly gifted asshole that he was. 

Not that Junpei was actually interested in Domain Expansions; even the touch-and-go explanation that Gojo-sensei gave was enough to make him uninterested. Kugisaki was equally as uninterested, so Junpei was never alone in his refusal. But Junpei would do anything if it meant not being (lovingly) pummeled into the ground. 

“Do you think I can make one?” Junpei asked. “A Domain Expansion, I mean.” 

Yuuji looked him over, poking at him. “Hmm, maybe? Sukuna?” Whatever Sukuna said made his face darken. “I am not telling him that. No. Yeah, of course, he knows what it is. He’s asking about it, isn’t he?”

“Domain Expansions are for the powerful,” a mouth on Yuuji’s cheek suddenly said. Junpei barely resisted the urge to shiver. “What do you know of power, jellyfish?”

Sukuna rarely spoke aloud and each time Junpei had to fight not to show his fear. He never quite forgot that it was the King of Curses residing in Yuuji’s body, but quiet as the curse was, he sometimes… was caught off-guard whenever the King deigned to show his presence. 

That's just the way it was. The sun was yellow, grass was green, and Sukuna's presence was malevolent enough for Junpei's instinct to scream at him to run in the other direction. It really was inconvenient, Junpei would be minding his own business: kneading dough, or mixing a frosting when Sukuna's energy bowed him over, making him choke on his spit and clutch at the table to keep himself up. 

“Sukuna, that’s enough. He can’t breathe.” 

Yuuji’s voice broke through the thoughts circling in Junpei’s head. His words hit a second later, and Junpei instinctively inhaled. The mouth on Yuuji’s cheek grinned; it was a grotesque thing, the muscle splitting into two where it should not have, splitting and creasing Yuuji’s face. 

It tended to make the corner of Yuuji’s mouth lift. Junpei didn’t think Yuuji knew it did that, but the image of the two of them smiling in unison… not Junpei’s cup of tea, frankly. 

“Perhaps you will, perhaps you will not. Know this,” Sukuna intoned. “For someone like you, you will only develop a Domain when you are at your most fearful, when you are alone and desperate. Clawing at any chance of survival. That is when you are at your most powerful. That is when your Domain will answer.” 

Junpei’s eyes were wide, and he was barely breathing; stuck in a trance at the mercy of the King. Yuuji had fallen silent, face as blank and impassive as marble, the tip of his mouth tugging and moving in sync with the King’s words. 

“When you are moments away from death when you are at your most desperate,” Sukuna continued. “Use the fear you have, and pull.”

✻

Junpei scucked in a breath, through the haze of pain he remembered Sukuna’s words. 

And so, with all the fear in his heart, in his mind, in his very being, Junpei pulled. 

(An Innate domain is something a sorcerer is born with; carved into their prefrontal cortex. Yoshino Junpei was not one of these sorcerers. Yoshino Junpei was not meant to be a sorcerer at all.

But he was.

Through manipulations and schemes beyond his understanding, plans set in place years before even his grandfather had been born; here Yoshino Junpei stood, a sorcerer. 

And so, an Innate Domain was made. In his desperation, in his fear, in his pain, Junpei pulled his energy and expanded his Domain into the physical world. 

And so, Yoshino Junpei joined the ranks of those who were capable of Domain expansions.)

The pain stopped. Junpei threw up again. Then, there was a different burning pain in his head, just behind his forehead. Junpei moaned, clutching at his face. 

Around him, a barely constructed Domain arose. Blue, dancing lights gave off the appearance of being underwater, shining from a giant theatre screen. Red rows of seats rose, ghostly and mishappen. 

The screen alight with some kind of light dancing and blue held Orizuki and about a dozen smaller versions of itself, their tentacles reaching out and roving over him. Waiting. 

Junpei staggered to his knees, sucking in lungfuls of air. He’d known that Domain Expansion was a massive depletion of cursed energy, but given he’d never attempted it before— hadn’t even thought to try it. It was draining. Now he understood why most sorcerers couldn’t form one. 

Already he could see black spots dancing in his vision. Exhaustion clung to his limbs like mud. 

“Orizuki,” he rasped, holding a hand out, touching his middle and ring fingers to his opposite thumb and bringing his other middle and ring fingers to rest on the knuckles of his right fingers. His Domain wasn’t fully constructed, he couldn’t see anything clearer than blurry figures and his body screamed in pain. His very hand sign made no sense. 

But still. Junpei held himself. Domain Expansions had the benefit of getting guaranteed hits, right?

“Orizuki,” he said again, glass in his throat. “Kill it.” 

Orizuki rushed forward, pincers aiming and full of toxins. Orizuki’s aim was true. 

This time, it was not Junpei who screamed. Through blurry eyes and flickering black spots, Junpei watched as the curse was pierced through with dozens of tentacles and pumped full of poison. Orizuki could only hold on for so long though, especially with Junpei's failing concentration. Orizuki managed one more hit through the curse's body. 

Irritatingly, the curse managed to tear through Junpei’s wavering Domain and run away, but not without holes large enough to leave gaping wounds in its body. The Domain collapsed, and with it, Junpei. He lay on the ground, panting. 

That awful, burning pain disappeared. Junpei let out a moan of relief, hands shaking with the residue of adrenaline. It had been a technique, then. It must be activated with the focus of the cursed spirit. 

That was good to know, knowing how someone’s technique was always good. For some reason, the curse hadn’t spoken about its technique, which almost every sorcerer and curse user (allegedly) did. Or maybe it had and Junpei was just too busy trying to stay alive. 

Junpei, deliriously, though to give Yuuji an update, but what would he say that wouldn’t involve Yuuji storming the place and scaring everyone? 

Hey Yuuji, just checking in, my brain hurts and I think I have a concussion, and I’ve thrown up about three times because I thought I was gonna fight Mahito. Remember those reports I told you about a cursed spirit that was special grade? Well turns out it were two of them! And i had to fight one of them! Anyway, ttyl!

Yeah, no. With how his hands were shaking, Junpei doubted he’d be able to get a coherent message out anyway. Junpei closed his eyes, rolling onto his back to take deep breaths. 

In, one, two, three, four, five, out, one, two, three, four, five. Repeat. In, one, two, three, four, five, out, one, two, three, four, five. Repeat. 

Junpei went through his breathing exercise until he could no longer feel his heart pounding. Then, he did it until he could bear to stand up. Slowly, he rolled onto his side, taking another five seconds to breathe in. Pushing himself up to his knees was a Herculean task. 

Junpei took another breath, looking around in hopes of finding a landmark they'd previously been through. No such luck. It seems his fight with the curse had taken him to a different part of the woods, just outside of where the treeline started. He began to walk parallel to the trees, supporting himself with the tree trunks. 

Junpei slowly looked around, appreciating the scenery around him. It was a nice day, if a bit cloudy. Who knew that nearly dying was enough to make him appreciate the beauty around him? The wonder of all wonders. Junpei wandered down until he was able to find a bridge connecting two small hills. Junpei decided to sit down there to wait out for Yuuta-senapi. 

I'll just sit here, Junpei thought. I'll just sit here... take a moment. Luxuriate in being alive. 

Junpei took a deep breath, grumbling as his act of sitting down jostled his wounds. At least that awful burning pain wasn't clinging to him. Silver linings, and all that. 

“Junpei! Junpei!” 

Oh, someone was calling for him. It was a nice voice, maybe next time it spoke it could get rid of the worried edge in its tone. Junpei bet it would sound even nicer. 

“-pei! Where are you?” 

The voice was closer now, and Junpei must’ve made a noise because suddenly a white-cloaked specter entered his field of view.

Oh, he had died. 

“Junpei,” the voice said, and oh, he knew this face. What a lovely face! It was Yuuta-senpai! Did that mean he was not dead? “Junpei, what happened?”

Junpei smiled, or at least he thought he smiled, he knew he was safe and alive. He spied the luminescent light of Orizuki and he knew that his shikigami would kill anyone who held ill intentions for his master 

“‘Ta,” he tried to say, his voice failing him. He cleared his throat weakly, “Yuuta.” 

“Junpei,” Yuuta-senpai said worriedly, and Junpei felt cold hands ghost along his body, cataloging injuries and checking for any broken bones and the like. “Where’s the curse?”

Junpei vaguely waved around. Somewhere, he didn't know. It had ran away after leaving his Domain, Junpei could only hope that the injuries it had sustained were enough to severely hurt it, if not kill it outright later.  

“Hold still,” Yuuta-senpai murmured, “I think you have a concussion.” 

“That’s what I said,” Junpei murmured, allowing Yuuta-senpai to pat him down. He made a noise of complaint when Yuuta-senpai used his sword to cut down his sweater. It was his favorite sweater!

“Sorry,” Yuuta-senpai said sheepishly. “I want to see the extent of your injuries.”

Junpei stared up at the sky as Yuuta-senpai inspected him. 

"Huh," Yuuta-senpai murmured, brushing his bangs away. "What's this?" 

Junpei felt Yuuta-senpai tap his forehead, over his old scars. "Scars," Junpei said, squinting up at Yuuta-senpai. Wasn't it obvious? 

"Well, yeah," Yuuta-senpai said. "But what are they from?" 

"Bullies." 

There was a short silence before Yuuta-senpai made a small noise. Junpei opened his eyes again, frowning up at Yuuta-senpai. 

"What? What's wrong?" 

"I didn't know you were bullied," Yuuta-senpai murmured, looking upset. 

"I don't talk about it," Junpei said. Who wanted to talk about their experience of being bullied? "It happened during my old high school. Yuuji took care of it. It's over. I thought you were looking at injuries, not scars." 

Yuuta-senpai acquiesced with a grimace and muttered, "Sorry." 

Junpei patted the older boy's shoulder. "You didn't know. No one does, really. Don't worry about it. Let's go." 

"Alright, then," Yuuta-senpai said. "Let's go, there's a road here. We can follow this road to where Akari-san dropped us off. I've already sent her a message." 

Junpei draped an arm around Yuuta-senpai's shoulder, trying to help the older boy boost himself up. Yuuta-senpai grunted as he supported most of Junpei’s weight against him. Together, they staggered up to the road, Junpei trying to place one foot in front of the other as he clung to Yuuta-senpai. 

Rika manifested herself halfway through the road, roaming ahead to scout for any other threats and coming back to check on Yuuta and Junpei, chatting about inane subjects to keep Junpei awake and semi-aware. 

She dismissed herself when they got to where Nitta-san had told them to wait for her, Junpei waving halfheartedly at the enthusiastic curse. She sometimes reminded him of Sukuna, the heavy presence and… well, not much else actually. 

Sukuna was a completely different being. On a completely different plane of existence. 

“Junpei,” Yuuta-senpai murmured worriedly, gently moving his face to meet his eyes. “You with me?” 

Junpei gently patted Yuuta-senpai’s face, then frowned as he realized he had just smudged Yuuta’s face in blood. He tried to wipe off the blood, but a long-fingered hand wrapped around his wrist. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Yuuta-senpai said. “I’ll wash off after we get the school.” 

Junpei let his head fall onto Yuuta-senpai’s shoulder, the back of his head throbbing as the movement jostled his brain. Slowly, Junpei shifted his head so that he could brush his nose against Yuuta-senpai’s throat. Yuuta-senpai stiffened underneath him, and Junpei exhaled through his nose, blearily watching the tiny hairs on the older boy’s neck stand up. 

There was a slow, warm feel of something sliding down the side of his head, Junpei vaguely guessed it was blood. He scrunched his nose up, cuddling closer to Yuuta, reaching up with the hand not currently entrapped in his senior’s hold and curling around his neck, lightly stroking the short hairs at the back of his neck. 

“Junpei,” Yuuta-senpai whispered, the grip he had around Junpei’s waist tightening. “What are you doing?” 

Junpei hummed, pulling back from the tight embrace to inspect Yuuta-senpai’s pinched face. Had he misinterpreted? He searched Yuuta-senpai’s face, the Special Grade’s eyes were pinched around the corners and his mouth was set in a hard line. 

Oh. Perhaps he had. 

"Sorry," Junpei said, bowing his head in shame. What a way to go, genius. 

Junpei was still woozy, and worryingly, the wound in his shoulder had not stopped bleeding, and he was pretty sure he had split his head open earlier. Though he was slowly regaining his balance, he tried to step away to give the older boy his space, but the tight grip around his waist increased until Junpei was flush against Yuuta-senpai again. 

They stared at each other for several seconds, Yuuta-senpai’s arm around Junpei’s waist and their faces centimeters away from each other, breathing in the same air. 

“After,” Yuuta-senpai said, his voice suddenly hoarse and hesitant, “After this, do you– would you like to come with me on a date?” 

Junpei blinked once, and then again. “Oh,” he said at last. 

Yuuta-senpai’s eyes widened as he realized what he said, “Uh, of course– you don’t have to! I’m sorry, I just–” 

Junpei placed his hands on Yuuta-senpai’s face, smiling slightly, privately wondering why there seemed to be two Yuutas in front of him. He briefly debated putting one hand on one Yuuta and the other on the other Yuuta, but this seemed to work out just fine. 

“I’d love to,” he said to both of them, just in case. Then he tilted his head just so and pressed his lips to one of the Yuuta’s. 

He barely got to hum in delight at getting the right one when he passed out. 

✻

Yuuji’s phone rang as he was trying to wrestle a particularly sticky dough into submission. He would’ve let it go to voicemail; he, as a rule, tended not to answer phone calls while he worked. However, upon glancing at the caller ID, he threw all that out of the window. Nanamin usually texted him, but rarely did he ever call. And Yuuji was waiting for a very important update. 

Yuuji left a streak of batter on his phone as he fumbled to answer. His phone seemed to decide that now was the time to begin acting up. He snarled, impatience and worry making him want to break something. Finally, he was able to get the call to connect. 

“Hello?” He greeted, balancing his phone between his shoulder and ear and turning back to the mangled ball of sticky paste streaked on his work table. “Nanamin, is everything okay?”

“Itadori-san,” an unfamiliar voice came through Nanamin’s line. “You are Yoshino-kun’s guardian, yes?”

Yuuji’s hand paused. Sukuna perked up. “Yes.”

“My name is Ieiri Shoko, I am a doctor at Jujutsu Tech. Nanami lent me his phone to contact you,” the woman said. Her voice was the distant tone of all doctors. It grated on Yuuji's nerves. “Yoshino-kun sustained many injuries, but he is alive. I’m going to keep him for observation until I am sure he won’t risk hurting himself again. Is that agreeable with you?”

“Will I be able to visit Junpei?” Yuuji asked, narrowing his eyes at the wording that the doctor had used. Hurt himself? What had happened in that mission? Wasn’t Junpei accompanied by a Special-Grade sorcerer? 

Sukuna murmured something about inadequate child soldiers. Yuuji mentally gave him a shove. 

“Unfortunately, no,” Ieiri-san said. “He is still in a delicate state and I am sure that Nanami has informed you of our school’s policy.”

Yuuji’s jaw clenched. Sukuna was stretching out, upset that he had been denied entertainment. His body shuddered as it also stretched to contain the King’s swells, muscles straining against the burning sensation.

Nanamin did not mention any policy. At all. 

“Very well, I will leave him in your capable care,” Yuuji said, pushing Sukuna back to the dark corners he usually stayed in. “Tell Junpei I want him to call me as soon as he’s awake. Anything else?” 

“He has advanced his Technique,” the woman informed him. “His promotion may be considered.” 

“I see. Thank you.”

“Of course, Itadori-san.” 

The line went dead. Yuuji stared down at the phone in his hand, expression blank. The screen cracked under his grip. In the quiet of the kitchen, the echo of the clatter rang loud as his phone slammed against the floor. 

“I told you he wouldn’t die,” Yuuji said quietly, returning to scrape the dough back into a ball. 

“So you did.” 

Yuuji continued scraping the dough back into the ball. When he’d collected it all, he continued kneading, silent—smoothing it out and rolling it back again, over and over. Junpei had improved his Technique, how? What had happened that made him do so? 

“Death is a good motivator,” Sukuna said idly. 

Yuuji rolled his dough into a perfect little ball, plopping the dough ball into a bowl and covering it with a cloth. “You think Junpei was that close to death?” 

Sukuna did not grace his question with an answer; Yuuji didn’t expect him to. He rolled his head in a circle, aggravation settling in his shoulders and anger tightening in his chest. He didn’t like the fact that he was barred from seeing Junpei. Who knew what they were doing to him? 

Yuuji also wanted to question the boy who was sent with him on that. Wasn’t he supposed to be a special grade? Wasn’t he supposed to protect Junpei? 

“You’ve already asked yourself that.” Sukuna reminded him. This time, it was Yuuji’s turn to ignore Sukuna. 

“Did I get Gojo-san’s number?” He wondered aloud, glancing at the discarded phone on the floor. Sukuna snarled in protest, but that didn’t stop Yuuji from picking up his phone again. He frowned at the cracks on the screen. Luckily, it was still serviceable, but he’d have to get a new one soon. 

The call connected after two rings, and Sukuna snarled again, even louder. 

Suck it up, Yuuji told him mentally, before shoving him back again. 

“Yuuji-san?” Gojo-san’s voice came through, slightly tinny, the way all voices do, and slightly confused. Yuuji forgave his tone; he hadn’t reached out to him since the time the man had come over to the apartment with his students. 

“Hi, yeah, are you back in Japan?” Yuuji asked without a preamble. To his credit, the sorcerer didn’t ask how Yuuji even knew he was out of the country in the first place. 

“Yes, I got back some hours ago.” 

“I got a call from an Ieri-san, telling me Junpei was injured and under observation at the school. She also told me I could not see him until he was discharged,” Yuuji told him in a rush. “Can you—”

“He was injured?” 

“Yes,” Yuuji did not snarl, he didn’t. He was just worried, can anyone fault him for that? “How soon can you get me in that school of yours?” 

“Where are you?” 

Sukuna grumbled as Yuuji shot off the address of his bakery, stretching under his skin again. Yuuji ignored him, ending the call as soon as he got confirmation that Gojo was on his way. 

“Tough shit, ‘Kuna,” Yuuji said unapologetically. “I thought you liked hiding?” 

Sukuna’s mouth opened on his hand, baring fangs to express his displeasure. “I do not hide.” 

Yuuji rolled his eyes but took a moment to slow his cursed energy to the crawl of blood. “We’ll find a good time to tell him, but I have to make sure he won’t kill me first.” 

Sukuna retreated to his throne in sullen silence, and Yuuji got the distinct image of Nyanko sulking after annoying Chito too much and getting smacked for it. 

Yuuji set to fixing the bakery, sweeping and wiping down counters as he waited for Gojo-san to call. Lucky for him, Hwan-gi had dropped into town, some swanky food event in Tokyo had his attention. 

Yuuji had strong-armed him into helping out in the bakery for his only free afternoon. The restaurant owner didn’t mind it, only swearing to eat a third of his mochi in exchange. Thankfully, it was a slow day, so he could get away with closing his shop for a little while. 

Yuuji left a little list of things that still needed to be done in the shop, mentioning a couple of pre-orders that were due to be picked up in the afternoon. He refilled the cats’ water and food before locking up the shop and dropping the keys in their hiding place. 

No sooner had he done so did a car slide to a stop right in front of him. Yuuji smiled, only slightly bemused at the efficiency, Sukuna remained silent. 

“What’s our cover story?” Yuuji greeted as he slid into the back seats. Gojo-san looked at him through the rearview mirror. Or at least, Yuuji thought he was, eyes covered with the blindfold that Yuuji was beginning to think was customary. How does he drive? 

“I was told I couldn’t go see Junpei until he’s given the okay,” he reminded the man when it seemed Gojo-san didn't understand him.

“Ah,” Gojo-san said, lips stretching into a sly smile. Was that gloss on his lips? “Well, I heard that you heard that Junpei-kun was injured and I just couldn’t stand the injustice of denying a guardian the relief of seeing his charge, of course!” 

Yuuji nodded sagely. “Out of the pure goodness of your heart, I see.” 

Gojo-san laughed, bright and airy. “Of course! I am naturally a good and generous person.” 

“A fool is what you are,” Sukuna snarled. Yuuji hummed, turning to glance out of the window, half memorizing the route to the school. 

“Is there anything special about the school?” He asked, “The woman I spoke to mentioned school policy. What kind of policy prohibits guardians from reaching their charges?” 

“Some guardians are sorcerers who work in the school,” Gojo-san explained. “Or they send their kids to us, but most of them already know what abilities their kids have. Some of them are like Junpei, who was born with cursed energy outside of sorcerer families. We scout those kids and bring them in. Sometimes when kids like those pop up, they’re usually orphans or their families want nothing to do with them. The prohibited communication is in place for them, for their safety.” 

"What happens to the families after?" Yuuji questioned. 

Gojo-san shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m not involved in that.”

Yuuji wondered if the families were compensated. Most likely, to make up for the loss of a family member. If the family was okay with the removal of a child from their family, then they would not refuse monetary compensation. If there is one thing Yuuji could count on, it is the greed inherent in people. 

“Junpei mentioned a barrier?” Yuuji prodded, as innocuously as he could. Might as well. 

“I didn’t know Junpei was such a chatterbox,” Gojo-san said mildly, glancing at him from the mirror. “He’s usually very quiet.”

Yuuji resisted the urge to bare his teeth. "Junpei trusts that I have his best interest in mind," he just barely kept himself from snapping. "I usually don't leave for days on end overseas, unable to reach my kids." 

Perhaps that was a little too sharp, but Yuuji didn’t apologize. They lapsed into silence again, tense and uncomfortable. Yuuji turned his attention back to the road, noticing that they were slowly leaving the city proper. 

“There is a barrier,” Gojo-san seemed to relent. “Meant to protect the school from prying eyes. It’s not omnipotent, but it protects the school. You only need to go through it once to remember where it is.” 

“Can cursed spirits enter the grounds?” Yuuji asked, very casually in his opinion. If they were found out… it could spell disaster for them. 

It appeared he wasn’t very casual, as Gojo-san sent him an amused smile. “Even if they do, they do not last long before they are found and exorcised.”

“But they can’t be sensed?” Yuuji probed. He hoped his concern could pass for being scared for Junpei.

There was silence for a moment, and they passed through a toriimon with several talismans hanging from it. Yuuji squinted at the papers, trying to read the minuscule lettering.  

“Cursed Spirits don’t know where to look,” Gojo-san finally said. “That is the protection.” 

Sukuna stretched out in satisfaction. “And now they know.” 

“What did those talismans say?” Yuuji wondered, ignoring Sukuna and twisting around in his seat to glance back. 

“Those were protective seals,” Gojo-san said. “We passed through the barrier.”

Yuuji blinked. “That was the barrier? I thought…”  

Gojo grinned. “Pretty inconspicuous, huh?” 

Yuuji hummed, leaning back in his seat to drop his head onto the headrest. He felt a dizzying amount of not quite relief swirling inside him. If the barrier only worked to hide the school from view, and not to sense cursed spirits…

Sukuna, from his throne, grinned, fangs and all. 

✻

Junpei woke up in a bed. Not his bed in the Jujutsu Tech dorms, or his bed in Yuuji’s apartment. No, he woke up in a hospital bed. 

Fuck. He was in so much trouble. 

“Junpei?” 

At the sound of his name, Junpei turned. Yuuta-senpai looked three seconds away from crying out of relief. 

“Oh, I’m so glad you’re awake. Kugisaki and Fushiguro were just here, they made me promise to text them when you woke up.” As he spoke, Yuuta-senpai pulled out his phone and began typing, presumably to his friends. “Also, Gojo-sensei called a couple of minutes earlier and said that he’d coming over with a guest and to get ready.” 

Junpei felt an impending sense of doom. He really should’ve sorted out his worldly possessions before he went on this mission. Yuuji would chew his sorry behind up and spit out him out. 

Maybe he could go back to sleep…?

The door slammed open before he could even begin to try and go back to sleep. Gojo-sensei let out a delighted noise at the sight of him. 

“Good! Good! You’re awake, I brought a special guest~!” 

Gods and spirits, please be merciful, Junpei thought desperately, as Gojo-sensei moved aside to reveal his guardian. Yuuji was smiling so politely that it made him want to shudder. 

“Hi, Junpei, how are you?” he asked, very fine and dandy like nothing was wrong in the world. His eyes were bright yellow and his hands were behind his back. 

“Hi, Yuuji,” he said weakly. “How’s everything going?” 

“Oh, well,” Yuuji said breezily, walking past Gojo-sensei and coming to stand next to a wide-eyed Yuuta. This was a very bad first introduction, Junpei thought belatedly. “Very fine. What’s this about improving your Technique?” 

Junpei smiled nervously, twisting his fingers in the blanket covering his legs. Yuuji’s smile dropped slightly and he very politely bullied the other two men out of the room, promising that it would only take a moment. 

Once the door was closed, Yuuji pulled the seat that Yuuta was in close to his bed, sighing and scrubbing at his face. He looked up at Junpei with exasperated eyes, reaching for him. Junpei damn near threw himself out of the bed in his haste to wrap his arms around Yuuji, eyes burning and already hiccuping. 

“Oh, kid,” Yuuji murmured amidst the shuddering breaths Junpei took. “What am I going to do with you?” 

“I thought– I thought–” Junpei whispered, clutching at Yuuji’s clothes. “I thought it was Mahito. I thought I was going to die.” 

Yuuji’s arms tightened around him. A low growl vibrated in Yuuji’s chest, right against Junpei’s face. 

“Can you describe them to me?” Yuuji asked, brushing Junpei’s hair back from his face, hands going through his hair and down to his neck, smoothing over his shoulders in a way to center himself as much as Junpei. 

Junpei gave him as best a description as he could, then elaborated on the whole mission when one of Yuuji’s questions led to it. Including what Sukuna said to him, taking care to not mention the King by name, the burning sensation in his head, and the fact that the curse hadn’t been very forthcoming with answers. 

Yuuji sat back down in the chair, frowning. Junpei settled in for a wait, knowing that Yuuji would be talking this over with Sukuna. He glanced at the door, wondering if Yuuta-senpai and Gojo-sensei had wandered off or if they were still waiting for them outside since Yuuji had told them it would only take a few minutes. It had been longer than a few minutes surely. 

“Intel was wrong,” Yuuji thought aloud. “A curse claiming to have a big job…. That’s probably to do with your fingers.”

He fell silent, presumably listening to what Sukuna was saying. Yuuji’s eyes snapped back to him, animal-yellow eyes staring right at him. Junpei went cross-eyed when Yuuji tapped his forehead, then dragged his fingers down to the bridge of his nose. 

“You mentioned being able to create a Domain Expansion?” Yuuji murmured, eyes creasing in thought. 

Junpe nodded, launching into a description as vivid as he remembered, not daring to leave anything out. From the burning pain to the dancing lights and the multiple jellyfish that appeared to the exit the curse made. 

Yuuji nodded a crease in his brow. “You need a weapon, something that puts you at a long distance from enemies,” he announced. “Is there something like that here?” 

Junpei nodded. “We have a warehouse with a lot of stuff in it. Gojo-sensei can take you there.” 

“You don’t want to pick it out?” Yuuji asked, confused. “What if I don’t get something that fits you?” 

Junpei shook his head. If he didn’t like it, he could always change it, he just wanted to see what Yuuji would pick out for him first. “I trust you.” 

Yuuji clutched his chest, a look of exaggerated pain crossing his face. Junpei’s cheeks were squished next, and Yuuji said something unintelligible. Junpei nodded along, smiling for the effect as well. 

“Right,” Yuuji said, smoothing down his hair once again once his cuteness attack was over. “I will go with Gojo-san and get you a weapon. Bond with your not-boyfriend and make sure to bring him to the bakery sometime. I still need to scare him.” 

“I think you already did,” Junpei pointed out, not even bothering to fight on Yuuji’s words. Abruptly, his cheeks heated up, and he covered his face in shame. “Oh no! Yuuji, I kissed him! He asked me out!” 

Yuuji’s laughter was frankly humiliating as he opened the door. To Yuuji’s audible surprise, Gojo-sensei was standing on the wall opposite the room, phone in hand. Yuuta-senpai was nowhere to be seen. 

“Where’s the other one?” Yuuji asked, glancing from left to right. 

“He went to grab some snacks,” Gojo-sensei said, pocketing his phone. “Everything alright?” 

Yuuji stepped back into the room, gesturing for Gojo-sensei to enter. “I want Junpei to get a weapon, one that puts him in long-distance, but I don’t want him to let up his short-range fighting. He also says he managed to push out his Domain Expansion, and that the curse had mentioned a ‘big job’. Do you know anything about that?”

If Gojo-sensei had any reaction to Yuuji’s rapid-fire comments, he didn’t show it, only nodding along to his words. “I can make that happen. I didn't know that curses were beginning to fight together. That bit about a job is a bit worrying, most curses don’t work alongside each other, so for it to mention something like that...” 

“Smells like a conspiracy,” Yuuji muttered, scrubbing at his hair. He glanced over at the door, just seconds before a knock came. 

Yuuta-senpai’s head popped through, eyes scanning the room before landing on Junpei. He waved plaintively, studiously avoiding Yuuji’s suddenly delighted eyes. 

“Hello,” Yuuji nearly crooned, turning to Yuuta-senpai with terrible, terrible eyes. “We haven’t formally been introduced yet. Junpei, introduce us.” 

Junpei barely suppressed a sigh. “This is Itadori Yuuji, my legal guardian. Yuuji, this is Okkotsu Yuuta, one of the students here at Jujustsu Tech. He's a Special Grade.” 

Yuuta-senpai awkwardly bowed with his hands full. “Pleased to meet you, Junpei has spoken a lot about you.”

"My Junpei mentioned you as well. You were the one to accompany him on this mission," Yuuji smiled, inclining his head. “You’ve worked hard, please continue to take care of my charge.” 

There was something off about Yuuji’s words and smile. Junpei frowned, trying to figure it out. 

“Ah! We were not formally introduced,” Gojo-sensei realized, smacking his fist onto his other hand. “My apologies!” 

Yuuji waved away his words, smiling at him. “We met in my bakery at my insistence. It was a much more relaxed setting.”

Junpei squinted at him, turning Yuuji’s words over in his mind. Sometimes, Yuuji liked using very precise wording to play games. He liked to claim it kept Junpei sharp, but he knew that Yuuji just liked to see the look on his face when he tried figuring out what the older man meant; the big bully. 

“You’re mad at Senpai,” Junpei said aloud, covering his mouth with his hand when Yuuta-senpai and the older pair turned to him. Yuuta-senpai had wide, shocked eyes while Yuuji was smiling indulgently at him. “Why?” 

Yuuji was quiet for a minute, staring at him with a slight smile. Junpei had thought that Yuuji had calmed down during their talk. But it seemed that he was just biding his time until the object of his frustrations appeared. 

You can’t hurt him! Junpei wanted to say, but he knew better than that. He was in no position to demand something like that, not without offering something in return. Yuuji did what he wanted, Junpei could only hope to persuade him to let Yuuta-senpai off easy. 

Yuuji still hadn’t spoken, eyes now trailing down the length of Junpei’s bed and then jumping over to Gojo-sensei, before landing on Yuuta-senpai himself. Yuuta-senpai looked ready to prostrate himself and beg for forgiveness. 

For a long moment, no one spoke. Just as Junpei started to feel the hint of Rika’s oppressive energy, Gojo-sensei spoke. 

With a clap of his hands, he said, “Well! As interesting as this is, I do think you mentioned something about weapons, Itadori-san? Am I correct in assuming you’d like to pick out a weapon for Junpei?” 

Yuuji’s smile widened as if finding Gojo-sensei’s attempt at diffusing the situation amusing. “I do,” he confirmed, then turned back to Junpei, pressing a kiss to his temple. “You’re getting good at that. Keep it up, maybe you’ll even be able to have a double conversation soon.” 

“Yuuji.” 

Yuuji stared at him for a long second, before softening his stance for the first time since he entered the room. “Oh, fine. But you’re helping out all week, no ifs or buts,” he said begrudgingly, pressing another kiss to his temple. Then, he turned to Yuuta-senpai, who tensed as if expecting a blow. “We will be having words later. I want to understand how you could’ve possibly left my boy alone in a mission you knew was far above his grade. No matter how outstandingly he responded.” 

Yuuta-senpai bowed as low as he could without getting on the ground. “I deeply apologize for my incompetence.” 

Yuuji was not cruel, despite everything, because he pressed a gentle hand onto Yuuta-senpai’s lowered head. “You are young still. Let this be a lesson; learn from it. Do not let it happen again, or you will answer to me.” 

Yuuta-senpai’s gulp was nearly audible from Junpei’s place on his bed. “Yes, Itadori-san.” 

Junpei didn’t say anything until the door had closed and he couldn’t sense Yuuji at all from the hallway. He groaned, covering his burning face with his hands. As far as first impressions go, that was awful. 

“He’s so embarrassing!” Junpei cried out. “I’m so sorry, senpai! He’s just upset. Yuuji usually isn’t that…. That. He’s just upset, this is the first time I’ve gotten seriously hurt.”

Junpei peeked through his fingers to gauge Yuuta-senpai’s reaction. The look on the older boy’s face had him removing his hands from his face completely. Yuuta-senpai looked seriously shaken. 

“Senpai…? Is everything okay?” 

“Junpei,” Yuuta-senpai whispered, collapsing into the chair next to the bed. “I think Itadori-san is a cursed spirit.”