Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

His life – no, entire existence up until the end had been meaningless. Most might ask him, What do you consider a meaningful life? And he’d give them the same cookie-cutter response as anybody else might; surrounded by loved ones, basking in all the comfort they would willingly provide him with, and finding his sense of purpose through those who promised him with sugary words that he mattered. But if he truly mattered as much as they’d endorsed, then why was he unable to convince himself that those sentiments were genuine? 

He knows why. Yet up until now, when it was too late, he was finally able to acknowledge his opinion on the matter. In what little time he’d lived, he hadn’t accomplished anything noteworthy. He’d foolishly believed that because he was still young, he’d have enough time to prove to those who cared and wished the best for him, that he could live up to their expectations and find his sense of purpose not only in others, but in himself as well. He’d longed to view himself through the scope in which others perceive him, a common wish amongst others in his age group. 

But now, as he had nothing left of himself but a sense of an existence that once was, none of it had mattered in the end. Maybe if he’d lived longer, like he’d foolishly assumed he would, then he could make peace with his death and quietly pretend that wherever it was he resided in now was a choice. He could vaguely understand that his existence was placed in a state of stagnancy. Or, in other words, limbo. Throughout his life he recalls the few and far between conversations on what comes after life, theories of grandeur – paradise for those deemed above sin, and purgatory for those who chose to partner themselves with it instead.

He’s long since learned that the eternity you’re granted is not some preconceived notion, but instead a palace of your own making. What was currently reflected at him must be everything he’d ever amounted to in life, the ‘forever’ he unknowingly promised himself.

Nothing. A void without purpose, its only inhabitant a being who cursed themselves into becoming regret incarnate. But what use was there in regrets when there would never be anything to show for it? Yet more fuel to the question that kept his soul ablaze, the ‘what-if’ of it all. 

From a spiritual plane similar to his, existed a higher being who found its higher self enraptured by the intensity of the lost one’s soul. It wasn’t uncommon for those who had passed on to be filled with regret, but what was uncommon were those who were able to metamorphose themselves into a singular concept. And in the case of this lost soul, failure. 

Perhaps the higher being’s charitable actions could be explained away by feeling sympathy for the lost soul. But for those who have been unfortunate enough to cross paths with the higher being, they would know more than anything that the higher being’s charitableness was not without a price.

After observing the lost one’s soul and confirming to its higher self that the lost one is indeed worthy of their “gift”, they crossed through the spiritual plane that kept them divided with the sole purpose of reigniting a new purpose inside who they now dubbed as their chosen.

“You, who have demonstrated yourself worthy of their conviction, have been chosen for a destiny worthy of your character.”

Words wouldn’t be beneficial to him here, any question or anxiety he might have had was acknowledged by the higher being before he could think or experience it himself. He was but a blank piece of paper, with the higher being the ink that bestowed upon him the contents of his next chapter.

“Worry not, for your next life will surely become one you flourish through, if that is what you so desire. Destiny will be yours to create, not one you must follow. But heed my warning, should you attempt to heed others of your knowledge, I might not be so gracious as to allow you to proceed.”

For the first time since his death, he could remember what it was like to live – to not think of matters that focused solely on all the regrets he had and instead, for a change, what he could do to rectify them. It started with a quiet hum in the recesses of his mind, one that started gradually but as the seconds ticked by became something more consuming. That gentle hum had easily evolved into a constant reminder of what it meant to feel. It was as if his consciousness had been frozen for an indiscernible amount of time, all of his senses quickly coming back to him the more his metaphorical self thawed away and became something real. 

He didn’t fight the instinctual urge to move. His right arm, now beautifully alight with what could only be the fire from his soul, swung forward with an intent that was not his own. There was a distant sense of satisfaction inside himself, one that was foreign and not his, but he ignored that in favor of reopening his eyes to prove to himself that he had, in fact, just been reborn anew. 

In front of him were the immediate consequences of his actions, a bloated amalgamation unlike anything he’d ever seen. It felt as if he’d just stepped inside the set of a movie. But after catching a whiff of that nose-scrunching stench that permeated off the creature's corpse, he knew it to be real. Yet another testament to his new reality of having been transported to a place that wasn’t his originally. 

So it begged the question, where and who was he now? He turned his hands over a few times, the only notable feature of his that he could see without a reflection was the curve and point of his elongated black nails as well as the unpredictable patterns of tattoos that stretched along his skin – a feature he’d be more than willing to investigate at a later time. His clothes were unremarkably casual, but just from looking at what he was wearing gave him an idea of the time period he now resided in. A modern era, with monsters that smelled of rotten cheese, which he had the power to kill with a single swipe of his hand.

He raised his new arms in front of him and began flexing the knuckles in his hands, relishing in the way the streams of energy that thrummed beneath his skin would dance whichever way he desired it to.

He felt that same control he’d once taken advantage of again fill him with unbridled giddiness, he felt that excitement that causes you to shake, and he couldn’t keep himself from greedily breathing in the air gifted to him as if he’d been starved from it his whole life. Not only that, but he felt powerful, he felt as if he were on top of the world, he felt–!

–Scared?

He was taken out of his self-induced trance the moment the first wave of fear rolled through him. By the time he was hit with it again, the second wave more intense than the last, he was all but obligated to find the source of such visceral dread. There, to his left, stood a boy who must have been similar to his original age. More notably, however, were the unsettling streams of red that poured from the crown of his head all the way down to his chin, droplets dripping from his chin and onto what he recognized to be a uniform of sorts, the darker fabric making it nigh impossible to see just how much of that color had already stained.

While he could understand why someone who looked as if they’d just been dragged down to hell and back might feel scared, he couldn’t get behind why that pool of fear only seemed to grow the longer his scrutinizing gaze lingered. Widened eyes were locked onto his squinted ones, their shared glance leaving the space between them tense and unfit for casual conversation. But despite the atmosphere, he couldn’t keep himself from getting at least one question off his mind, one that came to him quicker than he could process it and judge whether it was appropriate to ask given the current circumstances.

“Who…” His voice was lost for a moment, the deep inflection in which he now spoke catching not only himself off guard, but the stranger as well. “Who are you?” His tone hadn’t come off nearly as confident as he’d intended it to, but he figured coming off confident to this stranger was the least of his worries.

He couldn’t wrap his mind around why this stranger wrung the bell of familiarity inside him, as if at some point they’d met before but not in the conventional means. A character – he concludes with growing trepidation – he was talking to a character that was no longer fictional. He’d already figured by this point that he’d been reincarnated into some fictional world, like one of those isekai’s he’d watched from time to time.

But who would this be? His sidekick? The stranger-maybe-sidekick didn’t look too keen on answering him, at least not with words. He could sense the shift as soon as it happened – the way the stranger's resolve had steeled itself with pinched features, both eyes now hardened into a glare as a curious amount of energy began to flood from his fingertips, its force seemingly unrelenting in nature. With the stranger’s hands now engulfed by that mesmerizing light, he collected all his ire and directed it at none other than himself.

He took a wary step backwards as he recovered from his surprise, the answer to his question coming to him in the form of some unsaid threat. But he didn’t want to fight, not when he’s so unsure of his capabilities, and not when there’s a horrifying chance of recreating what he’d just done to that thing from earlier to an actual human. But if he were to choose to do nothing, he’s sure that nothing good will come out of it either. 

He took another step backwards, hands slightly raised in front of himself to try and convey to the stranger that he wasn’t the threat here. The real threat was already taken care of, proof of his endeavor lay beside him - okay, it’s gone now. But his point still stands! He ignored the buzz in his joints, his instincts itching for him to expel all of his excess energy before the stranger gets a chance to do the same to him. But at the reminder of how easy it was to mutilate that creature from before in just a matter of seconds - he found himself nauseated at the prospect of having to do the same to a human this time around.

So when given the choice of flight, freeze, or fight, the sensible thing to do in this situation would be to choose flight. Freezing would just mean taking whatever it was this guy was ready to dish out, and he’s already died once, so like hell was he about to roll over and let it happen a second time around. But that wouldn’t happen without a fight occurring, which is also one of the last things he wants to do.

He had already concluded the moment the stranger made their intentions known, the direction of his feet shifting slightly in the direction they plan to escape towards – the mantra of ‘act now, think later’ repeating itself inside his mind.

However, the moment he went to take that first step was the same moment he was hit with the blood-chilling realization of how much he can’t. It was as if he really was in a movie and the person viewing it had decided now at all times to hit that pause button. He willed his limbs to move, but no matter what he attempted, he couldn’t. The energy that had been thrumming so valiantly through his veins a mere few seconds ago had begun to fizzle out, the streams he’d only now found comfort in disappearing from him so abruptly that it took what little pride he had to not visibly freak out.

Inwardly, it was a fair game. Even more so once a voice that wasn’t his had begun to speak to him.

(“Whaddya think you’re doing with my body?”)

Mad. He’s gone mad! 

“Huh?” He was too shocked by being unable to move from earlier to realize that his hand this entire time had been straining against the sensitive flesh of his neck – an obvious threat to him, but to anybody else, possibly an image of someone who's not all there in the head.

(“Give it back!”)

“Who’s talking to me right now?” He urged, unable to hide the anxiety in his cadence. It wasn’t the stranger speaking, he would be able to see if it were. It sounded as if the volume of his inner monologue had gotten louder, except the timber was all wrong - not at all like his. That piled on top of how clear it was as well. 

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. 

Was he… dying again?!

(“No! You’re not going to die! Just - like, stop freaking out for a moment and give me control back already!”)

There was hardly a transition from one place to the next. Whereas originally he’d been standing on stable ground, now he found himself unceremoniously stumbling through a body of water that soaked through his clothes instantaneously upon his arrival. He couldn’t keep himself from falling backward, half of his body hitting the water with a loud splash before he could even try to prevent that from happening. For a bit, he remained in that position like a kitten soaked from the rain, looking about as pathetic as he felt.

And then, with his hysterics on the rise, he shakily raised one of his arms through the red sludge, the long and baggy white sleeve of his attire somehow free of stains. The motion had caused the sleeve to slip down his arm a bit, revealing the extent of his new tattoos, as well as the reason for them being there. Like in slow motion, he trailed from the seemingly endless pool of red towards the first noticeable landmark of this place, skulls. Piles upon piles of skulls, all towering up until at the top, sat an uncomfortably familiar throne.

A throne that belonged to a character from an anime he hadn’t been all that invested in - a verse that would have been at the top of the list of “never reincarnate here” due to how cruel and unpredictable it all was. Where even the damned Mangaka didn’t know what was going on for most of it.

Horror dawned on him once this information started to settle. Yeah, he thinks he gets it now. A destiny worthy of my character, or something along those lines. He’d become someone that was all but destined to die, hadn’t he? What good were second chances when you would have been better off not having them in the first place? 

Who the hell would want to reincarnate as Sukuna of all people? He doesn’t even have his own body! And to top it all off, he’s not even an actual human! He’s a curse, the King of curses, too! 

(“Uh, I don’t think he’s ready to come out,”)

Sukuna - because that’s his name now, isn’t it? - was pulled from his rampant spiral once Yuji had begun speaking on his behalf.

(“Eh? C’mon, don’t tell me the King of Curses is actually afraid of lil ol’ me!”)

Yes! That’s exactly it! In other circumstances, he doesn’t doubt that he’d be jumping toward the first opportunity granted to him to meet a character as iconic as Gojo Satoru. But given who he is and what the strongest person of this verse plans to do to him, meeting the sorcerer at his current stage would be a sure way to get his ass kicked prematurely. If he remembers right, Gojo and Sukuna fight as soon as Sukuna resumes control over Yuji’s body, and Gojo - the smug character he is - absolutely wipes the floor with him. 

An entertaining scene all around, except it wasn’t so amusing anymore now that the exact thing was about to happen to him. He could feel a pull of sorts, beckoning him out from the mind palace he was supposed to reside in for the foreseeable future. Yuji was forcing him out, and there wasn’t a thing he could do about it either. When he’d reopened eyes that weren’t truly his for a second time, it was as if the temperature had dropped significantly. 

“Those aren’t souvenirs.” Gojo had been turned away from him, his attention on who he now recognized as Megumi. With a hand in the air, Gojo carelessly waved off whatever it was Megumi had just accused him of, as if he didn’t care in the slightest that Sukuna had reappeared. “They’re for me to eat on the bullet train home.”

If he had been the original Sukuna, he could understand why the King of Curses had been so eager to put this man in his place. There was a special sort of satisfaction that came whenever given the chance to humble someone who held themselves with too much pride. But he wasn’t the original Sukuna, so there would be no humbling on his part.

“Behind you!”

But the same couldn’t be said for Gojo. By the time the strongest had turned to him, that ever-present smile on his face growing, Sukuna could feel all of his muscles stiffen instantaneously. A few seconds ticked by, and the ten-second timer Yuji had given Sukuna was already nearing its end. They were at a standstill, Gojo supposedly waiting for Sukuna to make the first move. But when he inevitably made none, unease apparent throughout his body, Gojo’s patience noticeably thinned, his smile losing its levity.

“Yo! Sukuna, gonna make a move, or should I?”

He reminds himself that he technically doesn’t have to do anything, he can just stand here and do nothing. And that by doing so, he’d already reached a better alternative than what originally happened. But again, he couldn’t help himself from speaking. It would seem as if an old habit from his past life had carried on to the next, where too much anxiety prevented him from keeping his trap shut in the most inappropriate of situations.

“I don’t know what you expect me to do,” He lowered his chin, not meaning it to come off as submissive as it might have. Gojo had begun frowning now, displeasure apparent. Off to the side, he could faintly see that Megumi’s expression matched that of his teacher’s.

They must be confused why something as inherently evil as him wasn’t rising to the bait thrown his way. Why he wasn’t screaming about death and anything related to carnage at the first chance given to him. With how out of character he’s currently acting as compared to the original Sukuna as well as their preconceived notion of him, he can understand why their hackles would be raised for just about anything he did.

Even if all he has done so far was stand there awkwardly, that same image from before about a soaked kitten coming back to the forefront of his mind as he’s once again he looks the part, both in the mental and physical realm.

“What you're best at, of course,” Sukuna didn’t have time to blink before the sorcerer was in front of him - his eyes caught in the motion of widening before a hand was placed on top of his shoulder. The unmistakable scent of cologne hit his senses first, and then followed by the immense amount of cursed energy that Gojo no longer cared to conceal. “Losing.” 

Sukuna, despite being threatened more seriously than before, refused to fight back. Or more accurately, he couldn’t if he tried. His body’s instincts allowed him the grace to know when to block an upcoming attack, but that was about the extent of it. Without any real knowledge of how to fight, he was left with only his defenses to save him. It was out of his control however when Gojo had sent a perfect jab to his ribs, one that he had unknowingly allowed to happen. The impact was felt instantaneously. A wheeze ruptured through his lungs, and with the loss of air also came the loss of strength needed in his legs to keep himself upright. He doubled over and into Gojo’s waiting arms, the sorcerer letting out an amused bout of laughter at having defeated what he assumed would be his strongest foe to date.

“Even with just one finger, I’m disappointed that this is all you’re capable of, oh King of Curses,” His mocking words went straight to Sukuna’s pride. Which, as it turns out, happened to accidentally relay itself to Yuji.

(“Oh, yikes man…”) 

It was right then and there that Sukuna came to his conclusion. He hates everything. People included - especially Gojo Satoru for kicking him while he was already down. 

“Hate…you…” Sukuna gritted out, just barely managing to get out one last remark before he was reminded of the ten-second timer Yuji had established with Gojo earlier. He felt that familiar pull at his consciousness, except this time around he more than welcomed it, grateful for the reprieve but only wishing it had come sooner.

Chapter Text

From the recesses of Yuji’s consciousness, existed the greatest curse sorcerers have ever had the misfortune of going up against - a being so sinister that the current strongest of the modern age can recite all of his recorded misdoings from a time long passed with ease. That much he’s gathered, but only from what he vaguely remembers from being a small fan of the show, and from what he’s eavesdropped on. Since finding himself unfortunately reincarnated as the King of Curses, he’s had nothing but a slew of spotted memories and his preexisting dream to live a long, well-meaning life to work off.

Outside, what Sukuna has fairly dubbed the Mind Palace - with the throne made of skulls to further signify that title - unfolded a conversation detailing Yuji’s foreseeable future, as well as the illusion of choice given to him by none other than the guy who humiliated him not too long ago. 

(“Die now… Or find the remaining parts of Sukuna… And die after taking them all into your body…”)

Sukuna hadn’t yet given that crucial aspect of the plot much thought, not with everything else he’s been overwhelmed with. Though admittedly, it’s not that it was easily forgotten by him, but rather a likelihood he wanted to avoid altogether. He’d already died young once before, so surely such a fate wasn’t destined for him a second time…

…Right?

If only he’d reincarnated as someone else. Preferably, someone with a physical body he can rely on and not one he’s forced to borrow for only limited amounts of time. If he wanted to incite change, then he’d have to do so vicariously through Yuji. But his next problem stands with whether Yuji would listen to someone whose reputation has proven to be his current and most inconveniencing obstacle yet. He sure as hell knows he wouldn’t listen to the guy with such a freaky title, but it’s important to him that he tries, despite the metaphorical bindings preventing him from doing just about anything. 

So what better way to promote camaraderie than to provide well-meaning aid to a person currently at their lowest? While he’s not happy that the first opportunity given to him was through Yuji depressingly making his way towards his grandfather’s cremation, he was relieved that the opportunity came sooner rather than later. The sooner he earns Yuji’s trust, the sooner he can put a majority of his concerns at ease.

He has to choose his next words carefully, to somehow find a way to come off as compassionate but not overbearing. The last thing he wanted to do was give Yuji more of a reason to be uncomfortable by his constant presence. But the longer he overthought this, the further he felt his chance slipping away from him.

“I thought you’d be happy after getting to see your friends again,” He questioned, satisfied with the confidence that he somehow managed to convey despite his contradicting feelings.

Yuji didn’t respond to him immediately, and after a worrying amount of silence, Sukuna had interpreted Yuji’s indifferent mien as an error on his part. Sukuna began to fret over whether he’d accidentally come off too strong with his question, or if what he’d said was so insensitive to the point that Yuji’s displeasure over him was all but ensured, with no possible way to recover from it. 

Just as he’d started down his spiral and began questioning if he should just go lie face-first in the lake he’s surrounded by, his reprieve came to him as a sigh, the sudden noise eliciting a full-body flinch from him.

(“It was… good to see them again, of course. But - well… ah, I’d rather not get into it actually,”) 

Understandable, but disappointing nonetheless. The rejection weighed him down further into his makeshift throne, his slumped shoulders almost touching his ears as he tried his best to recall the kinds of people Yuji’s friends were before he started attending Jujutsu Tech. They were in some kind of ghost club, he thinks. They spent their time looking into theories online related to anything paranormal and eventually participated in investigations of their own, which would promptly kick off the whole being a vessel stick for Yuji. 

He can’t remember his friends being in any other scenes from then on, the mangaka probably not seeing a purpose in including them. They were just side characters at the end of the day. But would the Yuji he’s familiarizing himself with end up doing the same? They’re not just characters in a story any longer - they’re real, just as much as he is. He wonders about that, that maybe there was an important reason why Yuji distanced himself in the first place, given how close they all were before hell froze over.

(“Have you ever lost someone before?”)

Sukuna took a couple of moments to process that Yuji had just spoken to him, and then a couple more for him to consider what he had just been asked. His initial thought was that Yuji would be hard-pressed to find someone who hadn’t lost someone of significance. But he’s not exactly like everyone else, is he? The King of Curses, a demon who's taken more than enough to be deemed irredeemable. That’s who Yuji and the rest of Jujutsu society currently see him as, so why bother asking? 

Technically speaking, he wasn’t asking the King of Curses if he’d ever lost someone, he was asking him - the imposter unlucky enough to bear the weight of the original’s sin. And then it dawns on him. His memories from his past life are fuzzy, faded around the corners as if the images inside his head were Polaroids burnt around the edges. He reassures himself that yes, at one point there were people he’d loved dearly. But now their memories have been reduced to fragments, too far and few between to ever have the chance to be placed back together again. While those scars have all but faded, it was nearly impossible to rid himself of them entirely. He could feel it – he could feel the impact they had on his soul. The last memorabilia that’ll ever remain from a time now passed. 

“If I have,” He starts, expression pinched. “I no longer remember.” 

(“Oh, that’s depressing…”)

And an insult to everything they used to stand for, he thinks, dejected. But he can’t afford to grieve over people he can’t remember the faces or names of, not when he’s sacrificed everything for this second chance at life.

“It’s easy to think that way, but I think it’s a blessing in disguise.”

No attachments meant nothing to possibly hold him back from what he needs to do in this lifetime. It’s better this way, it is. He disregards the wave of sympathy sent his way, as fleeting as it is. He doesn’t need it. This conversation was supposed to be about Yuji and his feelings, not the other way around.

(“That can’t be true. I think I’d be more upset over not remembering them compared to having the chance to grieve them.)

His fingers twitch. “Why?”

From outside the Mind Palace, he watches the way Yuji folds his hands together in front of him and how he hunches himself forward from the bench he’s on. The view he’s able to see through Yuji’s perspective started to close in around the edges – a squint.

(“Well, Gramps once told me that grief is proof of your love. And that the greatest sacrifice you can make is daring to experience it.”) 

“And… do you believe that?”

Yuji hummed, musing over his Grandpa’s philosophy. (“Kinda? I guess it’s the only sacrifice I’ve had to make that’s had an impact on me so far.”)

For now, Sukuna grimaces. Except now, their sacrifices will be shared this time around. And if Sukuna plays his cards right, then there won’t have to be any sacrifices.

“Calling it a ‘sacrifice’ makes it sound like a bad thing.” He can’t remember the people he lost, but their impact has shaped his soul into what it is now. He could only hope he’d lived decent enough that they could say the same about him. And if not, then this second chance he’s been given won’t be wasted so easily. “Does it feel that way for you? Like you’ve sacrificed something important just now?”

Yuji leaned back with another sigh, their shared view now gazing toward the ever-blue sky. It was interesting to see the outside world from someone else’s perspective, to see how clear the world is from eyes that aren’t impaired like he remembers his original eyes being. 

(“Sacrificing feels like all I’m good for lately,”)

Sukuna frowned, his finger thrumming against the throne’s armrests as he considered this. “That’s… that’s pretty deep man.” The tips of his ears started to feel hot. Did it sound like he was trying to sound cool just now? “Uh, sorry, I didn’t know how to respond to that.” 

(“Pft, don’t worry about it.”)

Sukuna always considered himself to be a good listener, but when it came to responding with some ground-breaking advice, he always fell short. He worries this trait of his would only prove to set him back from possibly earning Yuji’s trust, the possibility of saying the wrong thing a scenario he wants to avoid at all costs. 

But if he says it’s fine, then he’ll just have to take his word for it and stay mindful of what he says moving forward.

(“I was wondering, are you actually as bad as everyone’s saying you are?”)

Bad at conversations? Bad at defending himself against highly attractive men who wear blindfolds to cover their creepy eyes?

“The worst.” 

(“Riiiight, makes perfect sense. King of all curses, soon to be known as the Kurama of our time.”)

If he’s making a reference towards something, he doesn’t remember what it’s to. But it’s on the tip of his tongue...

“See? You get it just fine-”

It’s on instinct that Sukuna shuts himself out from his and Yuji’s shared connection once Gojo enters their proximity. Like a rope pulled taut, the snap that severs him from being able to converse with Yuji is felt on both ends - an immediate absence in a place that had just been occupied. Void. Sukuna lingers to himself for a while, biding his time until his curiosity inevitably outweighs his discomfort. He opens himself up to Yuji again, the metaphorical string keeping them together feeble enough that if it were to be plucked in its current state it would snap instantaneously. 

(“Now that I look at it again, it’s pretty disgusting.”)

Just as Sukuna was about to take a quick peek at whatever it was Yuji was referring to, an electric-like current brought newfound life to his being - one he wasn’t even aware had been missing in the first place. He could no longer keep himself in place, he hopped from his throne and down into the lake made of blood with a splash easily drowned out by the rapid beating of his heart. His fingers twitched periodically with the morbid itch to puncture something. And without a curse in sight, he’d already begun digging into the flesh of his arms.

He forced himself to a crouch, refusing to blink in fear that he’d fall victim to the sudden slew of subliminal messages urging him to defy his morals.

A little further. They compelled. Press a little further outward and take control–

But as soon as that feeling had come, it was gone just as fast. Sukuna collapsed into the lake, sucking in a bout of air as if he’d been deprived of it for too long. There was a buzz that lingered, its descent gradual until dispersing entirely. Intuitively, Sukuna knows exactly what that was just now. 

Yuji had consumed another one of his fingers. 

“Gross! So gross, it makes me laugh!” He gagged, moving his hand against his throat, as if he could magically will away the awful taste of soap and, grossly enough - pork from his mouth. He’s briefly reminded of the conversation he had with Sukuna earlier about having to make a lot of sacrifices lately, and how he would, rightfully so, consider being forced to indulge in cursed objects to be one of them.

“Heh… haha…”

Yuji turns toward Gojo, equally curious as much as he was concerned. “You okay?”

“It’s nothing.” The man waves him off immediately. “I take it you’re prepared for what’s to come?”

There’s a beat of silence as Yuji considers that. Is he? Would anyone ever be ready for what he’s being asked to sacrifice? And the short answer for that?

“Not at all.” But it’s his responsibility now, isn’t it? Sukuna is his responsibility. “I’m wondering why the heck I have to be executed. But I can’t just do nothing about him.” In all honesty, Yuji still isn’t sure what to think of Sukuna. He’s already been well-informed of what he’s supposed to think, but weirdly… it feels wrong to assume the worst in Sukuna. Especially if the guy hasn’t given him a reason yet other than the time he possessed him. But even that wasn’t his fault. He didn’t make him consume the finger, that had been done out of his own volition. 

“I’m gonna eat the rest of Sukuna. That’s all.” His Grandpa comes to the forefront of his mind. His dying request playing out again, the disc on which it was recorded itself on worn from how much Yuji has mentally repeated it since his grandfather’s passing.

When it’s your time to go, make sure you’re surrounded by others.

“I already know… how I’m going to go out.”

And if he wants to keep it that way, then he’s willing to do whatever it takes. Even if that means he’ll have to make some more sacrifices to get there. Even if it means housing the King of Curses until his final breath.

Chapter Text

On occasions like these, Sukuna wished for nothing more than the ability to feel the sun’s feathery warmth on his skin, to give in to the impulse of guiding his arm over his eyes from its brilliance, with his only reprieve being the gentle breeze that cooled his flushed skin periodically. But with where things stand now, he was nothing more than a passenger - watching with carefully sealed envy how Yuji experienced just one of the many things he’d long taken for granted in another life. 

However, if there was something he was grateful for, it would be not having to traverse the monstrous flight of stairs that Yuji just did. By the time they’d made it to the top, Yuji was folded over himself, somehow only a touch winded as his athleticism proved to be a fine match for the extensive cardio work Gojo had just thrown his way. 

When Yuji had first arrived at the bottom, he’d turned to Gojo with an incredulous look on his face and asked why he couldn’t just teleport them both to the top. To which Gojo just smiled, ever the smug character, with the idea that Yuji had to get used to climbing to the top if he truly wished to attend Jujutsu Tech like he’d planned. 

And Yuji, seeing this as a test of passion, had started toward the top without dwelling on it further. But Sukuna had seen right through Gojo’s intentions from the get-go - it was pretty obvious, after all, given the blindfolded guy’s track record regarding Megumi and the cursed finger incident. He totally could have just teleported them both to the top, but instead, he wanted to troll Yuji into climbing it all for the sake of getting a kick out of it.

Sukuna took satisfaction in seeing the perplexed look on Gojo’s face, but he was quick to mask back into his neutral indifference as he promptly got back into the business of them being there.

(“First things first, Yuji - you’ve got an interview with the Principal.”)

The rhythmic padding of their footsteps filled the space for a while, with Yuji on some occasions struggling to catch up with his sensei’s longer and more graceful strides. Eventually, his sensei had noticed his student’s endeavor and slowed himself to a more agreeable pace that Yuji could easily follow along with.

(“The Principal?”) Yuji asked, confusion shared between him and Sukuna for a small moment. 

The timeline of events is still coming back to him, but he thinks he briefly remembered the dolls imbued with the Principal's cursed energy and how the cute little toys ended up being anything but cute with their true nature being that of monsters in disguise who reminded everyone on the other end of their ire the danger they pose.

(“If you mess up, you might get rejected for admission, so stay frosty, okay?”) Gojo hummed, his nonchalance over the matter catching Yuji off guard but not Sukuna. 

(“What?! Does that mean I get executed right away?! What a disappointment… I thought you were the leader…”)

Sukuna scoffed from atop his throne, looking every part of the world bored as he relaxed his chin on the palm of his hand, one arm propped while the other relaxed on the armrest unmoving. He knows he shouldn’t be intervening too much in these kinds of moments, not when there wasn’t a plausible reason to. But on the other hand, he saw no reason not to.

“On the off-chance you do get rejected, it’s unlikely sass-with-no-ass would let someone as valuable as you get executed.” Sukuna reassured him, only to then promptly freeze on the spot as he repeated to himself, “Go back! Go back!” until, finally, he returned to the Mind Palace. He could feel the rising heat of his face on his palms, embarrassed over having what he’d just said by the very guy he was insulting.

(“Sass-with-no-ass?”) Gojo repeated in a mumble, a hint of amusement easily overshadowed by his bafflement over the rest of Sukuna’s statement. 

(“Sorry sensei! I didn’t realize he could come out like that!”) And then to Sukuna, “Don’t do that! What if Sensei chooses not to enroll me because he thinks I don’t have any real control over you?”

Sukuna rolled his eyes, his embarrassment now faded as he began to wave off Yuji’s baseless concerns. “If that were true, then maybe we should cut our losses now and do this whole finger hunt ourselves.”

“You-!”

(“What… an interesting thing to say. What other conjectures have you made, Sukuna?”)

The merriment that Gojo spoke with had only reignited his earlier feelings of shame. So given his current state, there wasn’t a chance he’d be giving a normal response anytime soon, not when he now possessed the ability to - well - possess various parts of Yuji’s body.

Sukuna reemerged on Yuji’s face, his lips tightly pursed together as he slipped his tongue between them and blew a raspberry right in Gojo’s direction before fading back into obscurity. 

Yuji groaned, not at all impressed by Sukuna’s antics, as he slapped a hand over the spot he reemerged at. A wave of Yuji’s disapproval was felt from their shared connection inside the Mind Palace, but Sukuna had seen his actions as more than worth it. 

(“Just how childish are you?”)

Gojo could be heard laughing, so Sukuna crossed his arms and shut his eyes, disgruntled.

(“How hilarious! I never would’ve imagined the Great Sukuna to have this kind of personality. It really makes you wonder…”)

(“...you sure we’re thinking of the same curse?”) And once more directed to Sukuna, “Great pain in the ass, more like it…”

Sukuna humphed. “Now who’s the rude one?” But before Yuji could double down, Gojo had interrupted their would-have-been argument.  

(“Ryomen Sukuna, with four arms and two faces, is a demon of legend. The truth is, he was a human who actually existed, but that was over a thousand years ago…”)

Sukuna knows this, albeit his knowledge being what could be labeled the, “Spark Notes” version. He supposes it’s interesting to learn about… well… himself in more detail, this information could also possibly help in the future if he ever needs to know something about his current identity.

(“In the golden age of Jujutsu, Jujutsu sorcerers had sharpened their skills against him, but were ultimately defeated. With the title Ryomen Sukuna, he would traverse the ages after his death as a cursed object. We Jujutsu Sorcerers wouldn’t even be able to destroy his remains preserved in their own grave wax.”)

And without turning to Yuji, Gojo confirmed, (“Without a doubt… He is the King of Curses!”)

Sukuna ignored Yuji’s blatant skepticism, knowing that if he lingered on it for too long he might even feel offended, as minuscule as that feeling would actually be. 

(“Is he stronger than you, Sensei?”)

(“Hm… good question. If Sukuna were to completely regain his power, it might be a little tough.”)

Sukuna’s spine straightened instantaneously, his mind using pattern recognition to recognize which famous line was about to be spoken into existence. He’d seen countless memes regarding this particular line, and had even laughed at a few that were sent his way - particularly one regarding the guy from that one show about cooking meth he can’t seem to recall the name of.

(“Would you lose?”)

(“Nah, I’d win.”)

Sukuna snorted and sank back into his throne, the moment now over. Social media had long spoiled the factualness of that statement, with Sukuna proving to be smarter than Gojo rather than stronger. But his amusement didn’t last long once he began imagining himself in that scenario instead of the original Sukuna, putting into consideration just how poorly his first real showdown had gone in the end despite him not actively trying to fight back. 

Things wouldn’t get to that point. He comforted himself. They don’t have to with me here instead.

The destination for Yuji’s (and, by extension, Sukuna’s) pre-evaluation ended up being one of the many auditoriums scattered around campus. The building they entered had raised walls and a noticeable lack of windows to give the generous amount of space some natural lighting. Sukuna figured the candles and dimly lit lanterns scattered about the room were for the sake of aesthetics, but perhaps there was another purpose entirely if he took into account the room Yuji had almost been executed in. But from his peripherals, he couldn’t spot any talisman around. So maybe the choice of natural lighting was purely for atmosphere, just as he’d assumed.

Directly from the entrance and at the other side of the room sat who Sukuna recognized as the Principal, and surrounding him a cluster of different styled dolls, all with rather adorable designs that Yuji had coincidentally agreed with him on.

“This old dude is making cute stuff!” Yuji had pointed out privately. As amusing a statement as that is, the longer Sukuna scrutinized the dolls, the more he could differentiate just how different they are compared to what Yuji most likely assumed them to be. It was a bit difficult to get an actual read on their cursed energy signatures, so he opted to open the slits beneath Yuji’s eyes to perceive them more thoroughly before disappearing again.

There, surrounding the doll with the face of a dog and a black spikey crown facing downward, radiated the same energy that exuded from the Principal. And a lot of it, too. It was clear to him just by looking that these dolls weren’t something to mess around with, and if the Principal ordered his creation to, the doll could do some serious damage.

“Cute stuff that could easily break every bone in your body. Do you sense the cursed energy coming off the doll to the guy’s right? Best to stay frosty, just like your sensei suggested.”

Yuji hesitantly considered his advice and squinted in the direction of the one doll that immediately stood out from the rest. To his disappointment, the dolls were, in fact, not just cute little animals, but instead cursed objects posing as cute little animals. 

“Huh, I never would’ve guessed. Thanks for the heads-up?”

(“So that’s the kid?”) Announced the Principal, his voice loud enough to travel from his spot over to theirs. Yuji, not wanting to come off as rude, bowed at the first sign of acknowledgment.

(“My name is Yuji Itadori! I’m into girls like Jennifer Lawrence! Nice to meet you!”) Sukuna snorted, forgetting about Yuji and his small fixation on the actor. It made him wonder about all the similarities their worlds had, and if in a way, he’d lucked out in reincarnating here with it not being that different from what he’s used to.

Sukuna scoffed at his thought process as soon as it formed. Maybe that would be true if he’d become random civilian number eighty-three or something. 

(“Why are you here?)

(“For an interview…”) Yuji’s eyebrows pinched. “Was my introduction bad or something?” 

“It was funny.” And before Yuji could respond, the Principal spoke back up.

(“I mean at Jujutsu High.”) 

Again, Yuji wasn’t following. His unease over not understanding rolled off his subconscious and towards Sukuna. “Just answer straightforwardly,” He suggested.

(“Um… To learn Jujutsu?”)

(“Beyond that.) The doll the Principal had been steadily stitching together since their arrival was placed down and to the Principal’s side, his arms now hanging loosely in front of him as he remained sitting on an elevated surface. It was hard to get a read on what the Principal was thinking, his neutral expression making this whole interaction all the more intimidating for Yuji to be the main focus of. 

(“What happens after you learn about curses and the way of exorcism?”)

(“Well…”) Yuji raised his fingers in front of him, raising one every time a reason was listed in their shared mental space. (“I’m going to collect the remaining pieces of Sukuna. It’s dangerous to leave them as is.”)

(“Why?”)

Yuji looked up from his fingers, surprised. (“People you don’t even know are dying every day because of tragic incidents, accidents, diseases. Are you saying you can’t accept their deaths if it’s caused by a curse?”)

(“That was a last request someone made to me. I’m not concerned with the details – I just wanna help people.”) Yuji responded, matter-of-factly.

(“Last request?”) The Principal’s expression tensed around the edges, the air between them a couple of degrees colder. (“So you’re gonna fight curses because someone else asked you to?”)

The Principal stood from his spot, wiping away imaginary dust particles on his shoulder. (“Disqualified.”) Yuji however, wasn’t given much time to process his rejection as the cursed doll Sukuna had warned him about earlier suddenly sprang into action. Yuji’s instinct to dodge proved to be faster, his arm coming up to cover his face while his other hand came up to aid in intercepting the attack with one of his own. He grabbed the cursed doll by the arm and threw it to the ground, mindful of his energy output while doing so in case the doll had feelings.

The Principal hummed, assessing. (“People are more honest with their backs against the wall. Until I get a worthy answer, she’ll keep on attacking.”) 

Yuji recognized the need for space between him and the cursed doll so he started to do just that, now a more comfortable meter away from his assailant. He didn’t want to be the one to attack first, he figures he can bide his time in dodging instead – subconsciously taking a page out from Sukuna’s book.

(“Look, it’s not just anyone’s last request.”) He thinks of his Grandpa, the fading smile on his face, and his final request to Yuji. He almost found himself getting too absorbed in the memory, but was quickly brought back from it at the wave of reassurance sent his way from Sukuna.

The cursed doll, not caring about the ongoing conversation, jumped towards Yuji with its fist raised in a charged attack. Yuji didn’t hesitate in striking at its torso, his retaliation more passionate than before as he focused all his grief into the swing.

(“It was my Grandpa’s!”) 

Yuji’s attack sends the cursed doll bouncing off the walls at an incredible speed, its green body nothing but a smear of color as his normal eyes struggled to predict where it would land next. Sukuna, sensing now as good a time as ever to test his abilities and its limits, focuses the cursed energy ever-present in his core and toward Yuji’s eyes specifically. He can sense the momentary surprise Yuji sends his way, but it doesn’t linger for long, as Yuji uses his newfound clarity to discover an accurate point of impact, allowing him to react accordingly when the cursed doll shoots his way.

The cursed doll abruptly collides into Yuji’s chest, knocking a bit of air from him as his arms firmly wrap around the plush torso, practically begging for the fight to be over with now that it’s reprimanded securely against his chest. 

(“Even a family member is “someone else,” right?”) Both of Principal Yaga’s eyebrows raised, a clear sign of his approval over the display.

The cursed doll squirms in Yuji’s embrace, eliciting a fracture in Yuji’s resolve. It was just like holding a scared animal against his chest– “Just a doll… Just a doll…” 

He’s forced to release the doll when its fist suddenly raises and collides with the side of Yuji’s jaw, painfully so. He lets out a grunt, rubbing at the aching spot, and watches with a frown as the cursed doll begins to cheerfully parade around the Principal without a care in the world.

(“Jujutsu Sorcerers are always close to death. And not just their own…”)

(“Shaka! Shaka! Hey, yo, yo!”) The cursed doll sings, distracting both Yuji and Sukuna for a moment.

(“They must sometimes tear apart the flesh of a curse, with death just visible out of the corner of their eye.”) Yuji finds himself thinking of the curse inside him, but that thought was as fleeting as it had come.

(“It’s an unpleasant job. You have to be motivated and also a bit crazy. And you want to do it because someone else asked you to? Don’t make me laugh.”)

Yuji flinches. His fists rapidly clenching and unclenching as the Principal continued with his verbal assault.

(“It would’ve been better if you’d told me you were doing it just to postpone your execution.”)

(“Shut up! I–”) Yuji exclaimed before he could think about it, for once feeling a hit to his pride and the need to justify himself.

(“Is that it?! Is it gonna be your grandfather’s fault when you get killed by a curse?”)

Sukuna sucked in a bout of air from between his teeth and then promptly blew it back out, just as stunned by the Principal’s harshness as Yuji is. Any remnants of Yuji’s rising anger had dissolved, in its place was pure bewilderment over the statement.

(“You… say some terrible things, you know that?”)

Principal Yaga puts a hand on his chin, considering this. (“Education includes helping students make realizations.”)

Yuji accidentally mirrors the Principal, his hand on his chin as he, too, started to think over what was just said. (“I… I’m not–”)

“On your left–!” 

Too caught up in his thoughts, Yuji isn’t able to comprehend Sukuna’s warning in time, once more hit by the doll, this time his body sliding against the wooden floor harshly.

(“It’s difficult to say what your heart feels when you’re about to die. But I can say this for sure.”) Yuji had used the moment given to him by the doll and rolled himself back into a standing crouch, his arms opening as he anticipated the cursed doll's next move.

(“With the way things are going, you might even curse your beloved Grandfather. I’ll ask you one more time… Why are you here?”)

Yuji catches the doll much like he had earlier, this time more careful about where the cursed doll swung and preventing it from swinging toward his face, not at all wanting that to repeat itself.

(“Consuming Sukuna… I know that’s something only I can do. Even if I could run away from my execution… Or from the mission, no matter what I do – eating, taking a bath, or reading manga… It’ll still be there!”) His arms tighten around the doll, willing it to stop moving. (“I’ll get depressed knowing that people might be dying because of Sukuna. Even if none of this really involves me, there’s no way I can convince myself that it’s not my fault.”)

Yuji raises his chin and levels a look in the Principal’s direction, hoping with looks alone that the Principal can understand his resolve and how serious he is about all of this.

(“No thanks. I can’t say what I’ll be thinking when I die, but… I’m not gonna regret the way I live!”)

The tension between them was suffocating. Sweat beaded and fell from the crown of Yuji’s head, his fingers twitching from all the adrenaline coursing through him. His reprieve came to him in the form of an approving smile, Yuji just barely catching sight of it before it was gone.

(“Satoru, show him to his dorm. And explain the security and rules to him.”)

(“Hm?”) An instant swarm of butterflies erupted inside his stomach. It almost sounded too good to be true. He had to be sure he’d him right just now– 

(“You pass! Welcome to Jujutsu High!”)

A smile blossomed on Yuji’s face, his unbridled glee contagious. (“Nice to mee–!”)

The cursed doll’s punch knocked the words from Yuji’s mouth, an apologetic sigh coming from the Principal afterward. Sukuna winced, grateful that their shared connection didn’t happen to extend towards shared pain.

(“Oops, sorry! I forgot to stop the incantation…”)

Chapter Text

Heat had encompassed Sukuna from the neck up, its unrelenting trajectory lingering more prominently at the tips of his ears as he foolishly attempted to reduce the visible shame he was displaying by covering his flushed face with his hands. Hesitantly, he parted his fingers with the hopes that Yuji was done with the poster already. A groan reverberated passed his pursed lips, displeasure apparent. 

“Uh… isn’t putting up something like that… you know…” Shameful? Humiliating? Any other variation of the word embarrassing? It took all of his willpower not to shout out his thundering thoughts, understanding that in doing so he’d only make things worse. 

Yuji had continued humming that same tune Sukuna wasn’t at all familiar with, a beam on his face and a faux-innocence in his eyes as he flattened the poster more thoroughly on his wall before placing a wall tack through the parchment to secure the source of Sukuna’s trepidation in place. 

He was transfixed on the poster once he realized who was on it – Jennifer Lawrence? Was she on his poster this whole time? That’s funny– wait! No it’s not! His teacher is watching him put this up! – but was quick to snap out of it.

“Embarrassing?” He continued with a fuss. “...Even in the slightest?” Given the amount of shame it took to voice his opinion out loud, he concludes that Yuji’s blatant lack of it had doubled over and returned to him. An unconsenting martyr, if you will. 

“Pft.” Yuji snorted, and then in their connection teased with, “It’s just a picture. And it’s not like she’s completely naked in it, either.”

Sukuna huffed at his indifference, annoyed that Yuji was missing his point entirely. “You’re so shameless… your Sensei is watching you put that up!” He’d regretted pointing that out as soon as he’d done it, learning quickly that his vessel's shame truly knows no bounds. 

“Oh yeah. Here, let me ask him.”

“What? Don’t–!”

(“Hey, Gojo-sensei! What do you think of this poster?”)

(“Hm? Oh! Sexy!”)

“See? It’s fiiiine. The only one who’s embarrassed by it is you.”

Sukuna… isn’t sure anymore why he attempted to reason with Yuji in the first place. Once the teen put his mind to something, it was nearly impossible to convince him otherwise, clearly. Yet, Sukuna can’t help but feel a tad insulted that Yuji still went ahead and hung the poster. It’s technically his room too! Though, he took some solace in knowing that when people enter his room and inevitably point out the poster, he won’t be the one chastised for it. 

I’m trying to save you from future embarrassment! When you look back at this moment, wishing you’d listened to me, I won’t refrain from saying, “I told you so!”

(“...He’s already helped me with the interview,”) Sukuna is brought out from his fantasy once he’s honed in on the topic centering around him, curiosity now piqued. (“...So there isn’t a doubt in my mind that he won’t help with this too!”)

Sukuna, daring enough to check, glimpses through Yuji’s eyes to see how Gojo is reacting to this new tidbit of information. To his utter lack of surprise, Gojo’s smile had never dissolved, but the temperature between them had. Even with the blindfold obscuring his vision, it was clear to anyone on the receiving end how much that barrier failed to prevent Gojo from perceiving everything around him with a clarity no one else possesses – his focus not only on Yuji, but beyond him too. Sukuna shivered, wishing Yuji’s sensei would look away for a moment. Or preferably, forever. 

(“Eh? Did he now?)

And Yuji, not at all deterred by the same plight as Sukuna, proudly elaborated with a gleam in his eyes. 

(“Yeah! Back when that freaky doll was bouncing all over the place, Sukuna did something to my eyes that made it so I can… see better? I’m not sure what that was… But it felt like some kinda Ultra Instinct ability!”) To emphasize his point, Yuji began punching the air as if he still had the, “Ultra Instinct” ability. Gojo exhaled his amusement at the display, his features relaxing but still evidently retaining some of their previous edge.

(“Hm… Now that you mention it, I did notice a spike in your cursed energy output around that time. But with you two combined, it’s difficult to differentiate just who is who.”) Gojo paused as he considered this further. (“...Something to pay attention to in the future.) And then, more seriously, added, (“Don’t forget, Yuji. Just because he’s helped you in that instance, doesn’t mean he’s something that should or could be trusted.”)

Yuji twitched, his first sign of agitation in the past hour finally revealed. But he did well in containing it, choosing to instead agree with his Sensei, lest they begin an argument about the matter they were bound to run in circles over. 

(“I will, Sensei… Don’t worry,”) 

Sukuna can sense the daze he’s accidentally thrown Yuji in, as his vessel is yet again reminded of the danger he allegedly poses. So far, his actions and words have proved his sensei’s words otherwise, and while his initial plan was to garner Yuji’s mutual trust, he can’t be giving him the wrong idea about curses either. Curses are evil, there’s no doubt in Sukuna’s mind about it, cringing at the memory of the first ever curse he encountered in all its grotesque glory. But he worries that if Yuji were to give the wrong curse his trust, then things could end badly for both of them.

“Your sensei is right, you know. It wouldn’t be smart to put your trust in a curse so easily.” Sukuna heeds, a rare show of consensus towards Yuji’s teacher. 

“I know that.” Yuji scoffs, as if he were offended by the notion of not understanding something so obvious. “But…” He trails off, never quite finishing his train of thought before his attention was stolen by the occupant next door; his unruly black hair and ever-deadpan expression making him easy to recognize. There was a noticeable spasm in Fushiguro’s eyebrow, soon explained away by him that the reason for his irritation was that Gojo decided to place Yuji’s assigned room next door to his and not in any other wing of their shared dormitory. 

From there, they delve into a conversation about the last first year yet to join them, and that tomorrow they’ll join up with her and go on from there. Once there wasn’t much else to be said, Fushiguro – the resident recluse, walked back into his room without so much as sparing Yuji or their Sensei a final glance. Not too soon after that, Gojo reached over and ruffled Yuji’s hair, explaining to him that he should get his rest before tomorrow before disappearing with that ability of his.

And Yuji, with so much to do but with no energy to do any of it, dragged his feet back into his dorm room before quietly shutting the door behind him. He inhaled deeply from his nose, pressing his back against the door, and then exhaled it out of his mouth with a faint smile inching its way back onto his face. 

Color had long drained itself from the sky, carrying along a breeze that howled into the night and rattled the hinges of Yuji’s dorm window. Something to request to get fixed, Sukuna had suggested, before receding into the deeper parts of the Mind Palace where he could spend his time in the illusion of being alone. Remnants of the sun reflected by the moon had cast shadows into his room, the only source of light for Yuji to work by on the few occasions he got up from his bed to use the lavatory. The ticking from his clock had become white noise at some point, his thoughts from earlier now louder than both that and his breathing.

Sleep had no longer been something Sukuna was capable of, any time he tried to shut his eyes and will his consciousness into REM, he’d been disgruntled to realize that there wasn’t a point in trying to sleep if he hadn’t even been exhausted to start with. To further his discomfort, he was unfortunately still capable enough to feel the drain over the course of recent events, that feeling lulling him into a trance from atop his throne as he remained blissfully unaware of anything and everything happening around him.

(“Pst, Sukuna? Are you awake?”)

Sukuna flinched, momentarily caught off guard before exhaling all his obtained stress with a sigh, his arms raising in a stretch to try and relieve the tension in his joints. “Unfortunately.” He muttered. “Why?”

(“I’ve been… thinking. About that conversation we had before, the one about the sacrifices I’ll be making and stuff.”) Yuji paused, his pinched expression just barely seen from Sukuna’s perspective. (“I already told you what I’m willing to do, and why. But– But what about you?”)

Sukuna frowned. “What about me?” His immediate response, perhaps a little too defensive. Yuji was quick to pick up on it.

(“I mean, I’m doing this because it’s the right thing to do, yeah? And as a way to honor my Grandpa’s dying wish. So… I have a good reason to be doing all of this. But what about you? What’s your reason for doing this?”)

“Huh? I mean, I know what you’re trying to say, but why should any of that matter to me?” He’d partially hoped Yuji would drop it after that, while the other part of him wanted to encourage him to continue and see where his vessel was trying to get at with all this. Was it validation for his conflicting views on him? Most likely.

(“You didn’t have to help me during the interview, in fact, you had no reason to. You can technically just… just exist inside my head while I do all the hard work. So why don’t you?”)

He could. Yuji had a point there. Canon would play out as normally as it could, what with him now in place of the main villain. But it begged the question, just because he can do nothing, should he? Would he be able to live with himself knowing all these people are going to die and still choosing to do nothing to prevent it? 

No. The short answer is that he can’t. But he can’t just explain to Yuji the real reason for his obligation, the warning he received from the ‘thing’ that brought him here like a brand on his soul. The price he willingly paid for foresight, as bare minimum as that was – for a second chance. 

So instead, he settles with, “Isn’t existing enough of a reason?” Because that was about as much of the truth he’s willing to spill.

Yuji hesitated, amusement twitching at the corners of his mouth. (“I guess I was just expecting a more… personal reason?”)

Sukuna sniffed. “If there is a personal reason, I can’t just tell you.”

(“Huh? Why not?”)

“If you were in my position, you’d understand what I mean.” And more solemnly than he meant it to sound, quietly added, “I’m responsible for all of this just as much as you are, after all.”

(“Sure, but we’re in this together, right? Kinda like Kurama and Naruto after he used all of his talk-no-jutsu on him!”)

Yuji’s levity was contagious, Sukuna could feel a smile forming to mirror his at the reference. “I have no idea what any of that means,” He lies, but happily spends the rest of the night listening to Yuji explain what Naruto is, and his favorite parts of the anime up until his words begin to slur, his eyelids too heavy for him to keep up, Yuji’s fading consciousness felt between the connection as Sukuna holds onto the promise Yuji gave him about rewatching the series with him sometime in the foreseeable future.

There isn’t much Sukuna can remember when it comes to the details of his past life. He knows that he’d died young – too young. If he had to make a guess, around fifteen? Maybe even as young as fourteen, but instinctually he knows he had to have been closer to fifteen, but not quite. Dying young is part of the reason why he had lingered in that limbo state for so long, his regrets potent enough to keep his soul burning until it would have inevitably died out alongside the rest of him. Other than a not-so-accurate estimate of his age, he’s learning pretty quickly through all the places Yuji has them traveling through that he hadn’t spent his last life in Japan, and that, like most things, he’s an outsider. 

When his curiosity had won out in favor of staying quiet, he’d asked Yuji where they were traveling to, to which Yuji happily explained everything he knew about Harajaku despite not being all that familiar with it himself. Harajaku, as described by Yuji, is a popular district in Japan that a lot of people travel to – mainly the youths – due to its culture in fashion. Yuji had explained that standing beside the average person here could make any outsider feel insecure about their outfit, but luckily he hadn’t experienced any snide remarks as opposed to his Sensei who often got either complimented for his blindfold or criticized, people usually assuming he was trying to make a fashion statement rather than what it’s really for which is practicality. 

Sukuna didn’t shy away from asking more questions as they came to him, and Yuji didn’t mind answering him. If anything, Sukuna could sense a wave of endearment from the teen, one that had been sent to him subconsciously. He realized after a few instances of this happening, that the longer he focused his energy on this symbiotic bond between them, the more their emotions tended to leak out by accident. It wasn’t a bad thing, per se. But when it led to Yuji wanting to make impulsive decisions on his own behalf, he was obligated to reconsider his standpoint.

“C’mon! You don’t have to stay out the whole time. You can just take a couple of bites, and then I’ll pull you back.”

“No! They’ll notice the shift in your cursed energy and threaten me or something!” Not to mention, he’d have to live with the knowledge that they’d seen a character as threatening as him wearing something as nonsensical as the ‘2018’ sunglasses that Yuji insisted he needed. He’d already embarrassed himself enough by getting his ass whooped during his initial incarnation here, he doesn’t think he could handle any more blows to his reputation. He was supposed to be the bad guy!

“They won’t do anything to you, promise! Plus, I know how curious you are about trying some. I can sense it.” Yuji insisted. Sukuna was grateful that Yuji had bothered asking for his consent this time around, or at the very least, considering it longer than he had the first time around. 

After a bit more arguing, Sukuna threw his head back and let out an overtly dramatic groan at Yuji’s expense. Yuji ignored it in favor of focusing on switching out with Sukuna, their switch pulling at them both like a tide returning to the sea. 

When Sukuna reopened his eyes, he was overcome with the sudden urge to flee. Not because of Gojo stopping in his tracks alongside Fushiguro, their forms turning toward him with a noticeable flare in both of their cursed energies. But because of the load of information rattling against his every sense. He could smell the various food stands, somehow able to pinpoint the exact locations as well as what the food items were with an uncomfortable amount of accuracy. He could hear way more than he ever knew he was capable of, his hands swiftly making it to his ears as he attempted to muffle the sounds of people that reverberated through his ear canals and straight to his temples like a drum that wouldn’t stop beating. There was an ever-present buzz beneath his skin, equal to that of thousands of tiny insects parading around his blood, begging to burst free.

Safe to say, it was more than a little difficult to focus on the task given to him by Yuji as he attempted to get comfortable amidst the crowd. Especially when the approaching forms of Yuji’s acquaintances made everything all the more overstimulating for him.

Sukuna clenched his eyes shut, and through gritted teeth said, “Not here! S’too much! Switch!” And without hesitating, Yuji did. Sukuna sucked in the air of the Mind Palace greedily, his hand now hovering over the rapid beating of his heart as the thrum of Yuji’s concern lulled him back into a state of security. He could tell immediately that Yuji was apologetic, but Sukuna was still a bit peeved that Yuji had been so adamant they switch in the first place. 

With a slumped posture and his arms crossed over his chest, Sukuna all but melted into his throne. Ignoring every question sent his way, and the repeated apologies too. Eventually, Yuji’s attention had been forced elsewhere, the prospect of meeting his next and final classmate taking precedence for the time being.

“This isn’t over, Sukuna,” Yuji promised, but from Sukuna’s perspective, it edged too closely to a threat. “We will talk about that. You can’t ignore me forever.” Sukuna, overcome with pettiness, took that as a challenge.

“The name's Nobara Kugisaki. Lucky you, getting to hang out with a girl like me!” 

She heard a sigh from one of the three, but couldn’t care enough to evaluate who it was at the moment. It took one long glance for Nobara to get what she considered a more than accurate read on her future classmates – or, technically, her current classmates. The emo-looking guy with spikey black hair in the shape of a sea urchin had been looking at her with feigned disinterest. Nobara openly scoffed at how obvious he was being. Embarrassing. He probably enjoyed terrorizing seagulls by setting them on fire or something. And the guy with the unusual pink hair… Why the hell was his introduction so curt?! 

“Yuji Itadori, Sendai.” That's all he’d bother to introduce with. Somehow, his lack of enthusiasm was worse than Sea Urchin’s over there, who’d just said his name and nothing else. Nobara had enough evidence to work off to conclude that Yuji Itadori from Sendai – the country hick – spent his free time stealing lollipops from children and pushing the elderly! 

Nobara let her frame sag to the side, a loud drawn-out sigh following the movement as she said more so toward herself, “I’m always so unlucky…”

[ PROLOGUE END ]