Chapter Text
The yelling was always the worst part.
His parents' fights would always start as whispers, but would soon escalate to shouting matches, both seemingly competing to see who could yell the loudest. Yuuji would wake up with the first yells and would run to Sukuna's room. His brother, like any teenage boy, would be annoyed at the interruption of his sleep. Still, he would roll to the side and let Yuuji share his bed. Yuuji would hide in the comfort of his brother's embrace, face tucked against his neck, and focus on his breathing. The next morning, when their mother would open the door, she would find them there, sleeping in a tangle of limbs. And every time, without fail, she'd caress their hair and whisper that she was sorry.
That was why they were getting a divorce, she told them one night after dinner. It was not right to make them hear their fighting every night, and as they couldn't reach an agreement, it was best to split. Yuuji, only a child then, blinked and looked from his mother to his father, trying to understand what that meant.
"Sukuna is going to stay here with Jin, as it's his duty," she said, not able to hide the contempt from her voice as she spoke the word duty. That, Sukuna had told Yuuji once, was the crux of their problem: she didn't believe in their family's traditions. "And Yuuji and I will leave."
"What?" Yuuji asked, shocked. "Leave to where?"
"Tokyo." But he could see in her face that she meant something more along the lines of somewhere very far away from here.
"It will be the best for everyone." Their father, who had remained quiet during the explanation, finally spoke. He smiled at Yuuji, but it was a hollow gesture. "You can always visit us during your vacation months, Yuuji."
In Yuuji's mind, that didn't make any sense. He couldn't imagine a life outside of that small village, away from the temple. That was all he knew. The idea of living in a big city like Tokyo, one that he only knew through the television, was something too scary to process. But mostly, he couldn't imagine living away from his brother. He looked at Sukuna, tears already welling in his eyes.
"No," Sukuna spoke. He had his head down, and when Yuuji looked at his hands, they were trembling. "No."
"Son," their father began. "I know that it's a lot, but I promise–"
"No." Sukuna raised his head, and the emotion Yuuji saw in his face was so strong, so powerful, that he felt like he had been punched. Sukuna looked at their parents with nothing but hatred in his eyes. "I don't care if you're married or not, but Yuuji is not leaving."
In that moment, Yuuji felt so much love for his brother he could have burst into sobs. Ever since he was a small baby, Sukuna had always taken care of him. More than their parents and grandfather, even. Despite being a little boy himself, he had learned how to feed Yuuji, change his diapers, hold him as he cried in the middle of the night. That, he always said, was his true duty in this life, not to be a priest.
"It's not up to you to decide, Sukuna." Their mother sounded tired, as tired as Yuuji had ever seen her. "We are the adults and we agreed that this is the best for everybody."
"Everybody or you?" Sukuna looked at her with venom in his eyes. "You never even wanted Yuuji, so why do you want to take him now?"
Yuuji looked at their mother, eyes wide. "Mom?" He asked.
"Don't say that!" She turned to Yuuji. "Don't listen to your brother, darling."
"You didn't know?" Sukuna asked him. "I heard them talking once. She didn't want either of us. She never even wanted to be a mother, but our father forced her–"
The slap echoed through their small kitchen. Their father had risen from his seat and slapped Sukuna mid-sentence. Now, Sukuna looked at him with wide eyes, a red mark blooming on his cheek. Jin looked back at him, as if only now understanding what he had done.
"Sukuna," he whispered. "Sukuna, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't–"
Sukuna slapped his hand away as their father tried to reach for him. "I'm going to the forest," he whispered. "I'm going to disappear there and then there will be no one to take care of this stupid temple!"
He looked at Yuuji, as if preparing to drag him along, but their mother was faster, reaching Yuuji and hugging him tight, so much so that he could barely breathe. He had no idea if the shaking he felt was his own or hers.
Sukuna ran before their father could stop him. He disappeared through the back door and into the night, their father running right after him. Yuuji and his mother stayed like that, hugging each other, until she gently pushed him away and crouched to look him in the eyes.
"Your brother was just upset," she said, brushing her hand through his hair and wiping the tears he didn't even notice falling. "And I wanted both of you very much. Don't forget that, Yuuji. I love both of you." She kissed his cheeks and the top of his head. "Now, mom needs to help dad find Sukuna. I will call your grandfather to come stay with you, but until then, be a good boy and don't leave the house, okay?"
He nodded, because there was nothing else he could do. His mother stopped by the door and smiled at him as Yuuji sat on the kitchen floor, knees close to his chest. He watched her leave and then watched his grandfather come, and they both waited. And waited. And waited. And waited. But, as the night turned into day, his parents never returned home. Only Sukuna showed up, alone, covered in cuts and bruises. He looked at Yuuji and their grandfather with a vacant expression on his face.
"The god of the forest has spoken," he said before passing out.
From where he stands in front of the window, Yuuji can see the mountain and the forest within it in their full glory. They loom over their village like deities, watching over its citizens no matter where they are. Even here, in the claustrophobic hospital room, Yuuji can feel their pull. Maybe, he thinks, it's because of who he is and what he is supposed to do. Maybe the other people within the village don't feel their presence as much as he does — and maybe that is why they always hated him for it. They don't look up in the village, afraid of being confronted with their fears, but Yuuji is a constant reminder of it, that there is no running away, not for them. They are what one would call a necessary evil. Him and the forest.
"What are you looking at?"
He turns around to find his brother awake. Sukuna has propped himself against the pillow, sitting as if he were at home, not at the hospital after being missing for a week. A concussion and dehydration was what the doctors told Yuuji when he rushed into the hospital, nothing too serious. Still, as Yuuji looks at Sukuna, he looks for signs of something else, something more. The forest is dangerous, everyone in the village knows, and most who enter it never leave. That Sukuna is there in front of him only means that it decided to spare him and spit him back up. Why? Yuuji doesn't know, but he's grateful. He thinks of the temple, of the candles he lit up before leaving for the hospital. Our prayers never go unanswered, his grandfather used to say.
They really don't.
His eyes are watering before he can control himself. Sukuna will start laughing at any moment, he knows. "Nii-chan," Yuuji says through a contained sob. He leaves his spot by the window and rushes to Sukuna's side, hugging him. His brother never tolerated any physical contact more than a few head pats, but he stays still as Yuuji hugs him, hiding his face in the crook of his neck like he used to do when he was a child – and even then, Sukuna would push him away. Yet, he doesn't do so now. He must still be concussed.
Yuuji pulls away once he has controlled himself. "I need to find the doctor and tell him you're awake!" They need to run more tests on his brother, make sure he is truly fine. So many things can go unnoticed, so many ways for someone to die slowly.
Sukuna holds him by his wrist, using far more strength than Yuuji thought he should have in this state. "Don't go," he says in a tone that is not pleading, but also not an order either. "Where am I?"
"At the hospital. You don't remember?" When Sukuna shakes his head, Yuuji sighs. "You were missing for a week, they found you in the forest with a head injury. You almost died." The last words are spoken with a tremble that makes Yuuji think of himself as the child he once was, the one who would always run to Sukuna for help.
He tries to picture himself without Sukuna, truly alone in the world. Would he continue the family tradition? Would he have a reason to? And if he didn't, what would happen to the village? His grandfather used to tell stories of destruction, of a cruel god, and of the human sacrifices that were necessary to appease him when the temple keepers didn't do their job. Would he be cursed, then? Would Sukuna, too, if they were to leave? Would the mountain god follow them all the way to Tokyo or any other city?
It doesn't matter, Yuuji knows. Because he's not alone and Sukuna is not dead and they're not going anywhere. No matter how many times his brother has talked about leaving, about escaping, he will never do it, and neither will Yuuji. They're tied to this land much like the forest they serve. A necessary evil, both of them.
Sukuna nods at his words, but Yuuji can see that his brother doesn't really care about that. Whatever happened to him, he either doesn't know or won't say. The police already ruled it an accident, and no one will come ask about it – it's not as if his brother is popular in town, anyway. Instead of being worried for himself, Sukuna is studying Yuuji in that focused way of his, looking for anything that Yuuji might be hiding from him — as if he ever could do that.
Once he's done with his evaluation, Sukuna drops his hold on Yuuji's wrist. His skin prickles where his brother touched him, and Yuuji can see the faint marks of his fingers. Sukuna makes himself comfortable against the pillow and smiles that cruel and beautiful smile that Yuuji always loved.
"And you were worried sick, I bet," Sukuna says, cocky. He has always had a way of embarrassing Yuuji for feeling basic human emotions. "Stupid brat," he adds, voice fond. He has always done that too, spoken in a soft way that Yuuji knows is exclusively his. His brother reaches out and pats his head, messing with his hair. "I will never leave you."
Yuuji looks at him and smiles, heart beating faster. It's what he has been waiting to hear ever since they brought his brother to the hospital. The reassurance that Sukuna always gave him. No matter what the rest of the village says, Yuuji knows that as long as the two of them are together, everything will be fine.
Outside, the sun starts setting against the mountain. Soon, its shadow will cover their village, starting from their house at its foot. When they go back, Yuuji will clean the temple again, light more candles and thank the forest god for bringing his brother back to him.
"You promise?" Yuuji asks.
His brother scoffs. "Of course."
It's both a promise and a curse.
Yuuji doesn't need to look back to know Sukuna is by the door, watching him. Much like the forest, Yuuji can always feel his brother's presence, but not in an oppressive way – having Sukuna there makes him feel safe. He goes through the ritual of lighting up the candles and kowtowing in front of the altar, thanking the god of the forest for giving his brother back to him.
"You don't need to do that," Sukuna says once Yuuji is done.
It's not surprising that he would say that, for his brother never liked their job at the temple. No, he has always resented it, the cage it became for them. Even more so for him, Yuuji knows, as it's the firstborn's duty to take care of the temple. Back in the Heian era, they were the ones who conducted the sacrifices and channeled the god when the mortals needed to speak to him. They were divine in their own way, touched by something that is not earthly.
But now, centuries later, they have no other duties besides cleaning the temple and keeping it from decaying. The villagers don't even come to pray anymore, converted to other religions or simply too scared of the forest. Back then, they were important; now, they're nothing but keepers of a history no one cares to learn.
"Of course I need to." Yuuji leaves the temple and sits down on the stone stairs, looking up at the sky. It's a beautiful summer day, and the sunlight prickles his skin, but not in a bad way. "You're back, I need to show my gratitude."
Sukuna sits by his side, picking up a cigarette. Yuuji thinks he doesn't even like to smoke, but he started as a teenager only to anger their grandfather, and now it's a habit. His brother holds it with gentleness he never extends to people, lighting it up and exhaling into the afternoon air. He leans back, elbows against the steps as he looks up at the sky.
"It's going to rain." The change of subject is not surprising, that's just how Sukuna is. He never talks about things he doesn't want to, and most times it means ignoring anything to do with the temple. Yuuji waits for him to say something else, but he doesn't. Instead, his brother seems content to smoke and look around the path to the temple as if he has never seen it before.
Sukuna has always been the quieter of the two, but there's something almost uncomfortable in how still he is, as if he has unlearned how to move. Even his smoking is slower now, and Yuuji watches as the cigarette burns to the filter before Sukuna puts it off on the stone.
"Are you okay?" He asks at last. "If you want to talk —"
"About what?" His brother cuts him off. He turns to Yuuji, one eyebrow raised. "Ah, you mean about…" He gestures towards the forest and scoffs. "Don't be stupid, there's nothing to talk about. I slipped, hit my head, and got disoriented, that's all." He stares at Yuuji for some time, impassive. Then, he sighs. "Don't worry on my account, brat. I'm fine."
Yuuji wants to point out to him that no one would be fine after such trauma, but he knows his brother. Sukuna never talks about things he doesn't want to talk about and he never listens to things he doesn't want to listen to. There is a long list of teachers, neighbors, and social workers who can attest to that.
"Do you think he would look for me?" His brother asks after a while.
It comes as a surprise. Yuuji doesn't need to ask who he's talking about, of course he knows. He pictures their grandfather in the hospital room, looking outside the window, at the forest. You can hear it calling, can't you? He asked Yuuji once.
"Of course he would," he answers. "He would have been the first to notice that you were gone."
Sukuna hums, but doesn't look so convinced. "He wanted to leave me in the forest once."
Yuuji sits up from his relaxed position, eyes wide. "What? When?"
"That was when you were a kid, you won't remember. We went out to get logs, or so he said, and he told me to stay right in the middle of a clearing. Said the god of the forest would take me, that back in the day, they used to do that a lot to unwanted children. What is one child no one likes compared to the well-being of the entire village? This way I could be useful for once." There's a coldness in Sukuna's voice, but not of sadness, not of trauma. It's as if he's telling someone else's story, or reading it out of a book. There's a distance between the boy who lived that and the man who talks about it, and Yuuji can't blame him. "He came back for me a few hours later, when it was getting dark. Said he made a mistake, that there were limits to what even the god would take."
Yuuji doesn't know what to say to that. He pictures their grandfather, and he knows Sukuna is telling the truth; he was not an easy man, not by any means, and his love was an abstract thing Yuuji had to search for between the lines. Sukuna never did the same, if it was because he couldn't or didn't want to, Yuuji doesn't know.
"He was wrong, though," his brother continues. "There are no limits to what the god will take." He says it with so much certainty it makes Yuuji tremble.
A dark cloud floats above them, hiding the sun. The breeze turns cold and Yuuji shivers as he looks up. His brother gets up from the steps, stretching up in a lazy, deliberate way. Something stirs in Yuuji's insides every time he watches his brother stretch like that, but he pushes the feeling away.
"Like I said, you don't need to light up candles in the temple anymore," Sukuna says as he starts to go down the stairs. He stops a few steps down, turning to look at Yuuji. Under the shadow of the cloud, his dark eyes look almost red. "The forest god is not there anymore."
One of the ceiling lights of the mini mart flickers as Yuuji walks around. He prefers to come at night, when there are fewer people around, especially now. The owner, Matsumoto-san, an old woman who is way past retirement age, eyes him from her place behind the register. She pretends to read a magazine, but Yuuji knows she follows his every move — it's not personal, he has to remind himself, she does that with every person below the age of twenty, said she knows teenagers like to steal things just for fun. Still, tonight her gaze is warm on his skin in a different, pointed way.
He knows she wants to ask about Sukuna, as does everyone else. Word got fast around the village when his brother disappeared, and Yuuji isn't naive enough to think some people didn't celebrate it. Sukuna has always been the problem child, and as he grew up, things only got worse. The tattoos, the piercings, his attitude, nothing ever seemed good enough for their community. And yet, as the police and the volunteers looked for his brother, Yuuji saw himself surrounded by people: neighbors and other villagers coming to help, bringing him food, checking on him, saying they were praying for his brother – whether that was a lie or not, Yuuji doesn't know. But they found his brother alive, didn't they?
Now, he feels as though he owes them an explanation; he wants to tell them what happened, even if it's a lie. How could someone like Sukuna, so experienced in the matters of the forest, get lost? It seems to be the question in everyone's eyes as they look at Yuuji, and he doesn't know what to say. It doesn't make sense, not when Sukuna has been walking through the woods ever since he was a child. But it was night and it was raining, so maybe it is that simple. Yuuji doesn't know what to think, doesn't know what to say, and walking around town without a story seems to be a worse crime than anything else he has ever done.
He goes through the aisles as fast as he can, grabbing the food he needs out of muscle memory; he's been doing their shopping and cooking since he can remember, and in between their grandfather's deteriorating health and Sukuna's behavior, Yuuji could only trust in himself to keep the house somewhat presentable. Once he's done, he walks to the owner with hesitant steps, bowing before he starts giving her the items.
She scans them without a word, but Yuuji knows she's looking at him rather than at the food. The idea of being judged makes his insides twist, and he starts to sweat, hoping she doesn't notice it. There's something about growing up in a small town that only those who have lived there their whole lives can understand — you're not looked at, you're seen. Those people see your every flaw, catalogue your every behavior, and compare it to previous versions of yourself: when you were younger, cuter, had better manners. They decide whether what's happening to you is growing pains or something worse, and, if they're bold enough, they act. No one in the village has ever acted on their judgment, not with their family being so unpopular, but Yuuji knows they much wish to. There's right and there's wrong, and Yuuji knows how the village would classify them.
So now, as he watches the mini mart owner count his money and give him the change, Yuuji knows she's about to act. He sees the thought forming in her mind, notices the way she sighs, almost too softly. When she opens her mouth, he braces for impact.
"Be careful," she says, voice low.
Whatever Yuuji thought she was about to say, it wasn't this. He holds the bags with his food, blinking fast as if to wake up from a dream. He looks at her with wide eyes. "I'm sorry?"
The old woman sighs again, exasperated this time. "There's something dark following you, boy," she says. "And if you let it in, it will eat you whole."
Yuuji trembles, her words too serious, too somber for it to be a joke. No, she means it, though he has no idea of what she means. "I–"
"Why are you taking so long?" When Yuuji turns to the entrance, Sukuna is standing there, arms crossed over his chest. He looms against the door, letting the cold air of the air-conditioner escape into the evening. He looks at the old woman and bows, although coming from him, the gesture seems like mockery. "If you're done let's go, brat."
Yuuji turns to the woman and bows deeply. "Sorry, excuse us."
He follows his brother outside of the store and into the warm street. It's a typical beginning of night: stores starting to close up, people walking home. They all eye the two of them, and a few bow in greetings. Yuuji bows back, cringing when his brother walks past people without even acknowledging their presence.
"You didn't need to come find me," Yuuji says. There's protecting, and there's patronizing. "I know the way home just fine."
"You shouldn't be walking alone in the dark." Sukuna looks at him from the corner of his eye. "It's dangerous."
Yuuji snorts. "Here? Really?" He doesn't think the village has had any case of serious violence in his whole life, probably even longer. "At least hold some of the bags."
Sukuna takes two bags with one hand and tugs at Yuuji's ear with the other, strong enough to make him stop walking and sulk. "Watch how you talk to me, brat." Even though his words are harsh, his tone is light. His brother is all bark and no bite. After that, they fall into a comfortable silence. Their home is on the outskirts of the village, closer to the temple, and the more they walk, the emptier the streets become. Soon, they're the only ones in the unpaved path, the sound of cicadas their only company.
Suddenly, Sukuna places a hand on his shoulder, gripping it hard. "Keep looking forward," he says.
"What—" Yuuji turns to look at him, but Sukuna presses his hand against his cheek, forcing him to look forward.
"I said keep looking forward," Sukuna repeats, voice serious. There's something wrong with him, Yuuji notices right away. He is trembling just slightly, but his grip on Yuuji's shoulder doesn't falter.
The cicadas stop singing. In the absence of their noise, the night seems to exist in a vacuum. Yuuji can hear his heart beating fast against his ribcage and Sukuna's fast breathing. There's something out there in the forest, Yuuji realizes. Something is following them. He can almost hear the rustling of the leaves as it moves along the trees on the other side of the path. Not looking is worse, he realizes, as his mind conjures all sorts of terrible things.
"What is it?" Yuuji asks, tense. Sukuna picks up the pace, and Yuuji struggles to keep up with him, legs suddenly heavy out of fear. The bags only seem to drag him down, and he has half a mind to leave them there and start running. "What is it?" He repeats.
Sukuna looks to the side as they walk, not answering. Yuuji can see the shape of their house in the dark of the night.
"A bear," his brother answers at last. His voice is hoarse with effort. "It was only a bear."
"Are you fucking with me?" Yuuji asks as they cross their gate. Sukuna closes and locks it. "Because if you're fucking with me, this isn't funny, are you—"
When Sukuna turns to look at him, there's blood dripping down his nose.
"Nii-chan!" Yuuji drops the bags just as his brother collapses against the gate. He holds Sukuna, who moves his head forward. Blood drips down his shirt and onto the ground. "Nii-chan, what's happening? Should I call a doctor?"
"No, I'm fine." Sukuna leans half against the gate, half on Yuuji. "Just take me inside, I need to rest."
Yuuji helps him inside, and Sukuna sits on the couch, taking deep breaths. Yuuji rushes to the bathroom, grabs a towel and gives it to him so he can press against his nose. The bleeding seems to stop after a few moments, and as his brother looks up at him, he seems better.
"What—"
Sukuna sighs. "The doctor told me to take it easy, remember?" He asks. "It was just the effort of walking around in the heat, brat. I'm fine."
"You don't look fine."
"But I am."
They stay like that for a moment, Sukuna holding a bloody towel and Yuuji staring at him. His brother is not going to give up, so Yuuji sighs.
"Fine, then," he says at last. "Go rest, I'll take care of dinner."
"Don't tell me what to do."
Yuuji rolls his eyes before going to grab the grocery bags and start dinner. They don't talk about it for the rest of the night, but he can't stop thinking about it, the presence in the forest. No matter what his brother said, or what he thinks he saw, Yuuji knows, deep down, that it wasn't a bear.
"And then he said it was a bear, but I don't know," Yuuji says, looking down. "It was weird."
"And what do you think it could be?" Kugisaki asks.
Their classroom is warm, and the open windows help very little with the heat. It's a strange day, without wind. From his place against the wall, Yuuji can look outside and see the mountain in the distance. He can't see the path to the temple from there, but he still looks in its direction, as if he expects to see anything unusual. Still, there's nothing but the empty school courtyard.
"I don't know." He shrugs. Then, in a lower voice, he continues: "Like, a spirit or something." He doesn't need to look up to know Kugisaki and Fushiguro are exchanging looks.
"See, this is why you should have never joined the occult club last year," Kugisaki says, flippant. "You're just spooked because your brother almost died."
"Kugisaki." Fushiguro's voice is serious.
"What? It's true!"
Fushiguro rolls his eyes. "What is the real problem here, Itadori?"
Yuuji shifts in his seat. He still avoids looking at Fushiguro, knowing that his friend will somehow see every doubt he has ever had, every treacherous thought — and Yuuji has had many of those lately. How can he explain the way he feels around his brother now? It's not as if Sukuna has changed, but more as if something is lacking. Something was taken from him, and Yuuji doesn't know what. A traumatic experience can change someone's life forever, he knows, but it's not fear he sees in Sukuna. It's the absence of it. The absence of everything.
His brother seems to be a void now.
"I don't know," he answers at last. "I'm just worried that he's not talking about it and it's messing with his head."
There's another moment of silence where he knows his friends are looking at each other. They seem to do that a lot, have entire conversations with just their eyes that Yuuji is not privy to. He finds the courage to look at them, meeting their concerned gazes.
"What?" Yuuji finally asks.
"There have been rumors…" Fushiguro trails off. Then, he sighs, as if he has to deliver terrible news to Yuuji. "Sukuna has been getting into some fights lately."
"Rumor has it he threatened a guy at knifepoint the other night," Kugisaki adds. Even she looks uncomfortable.
"That doesn't sound like my brother." When his friends don't say anything, Yuuji looks from one to the other. "I'm serious, he can be a bit of an asshole, but he would never hurt anyone."
Yuuji knows his brother's reputation, he has been on the receiving end of Sukuna's temper more than anyone else in the village. But Sukuna is not violent, not truly. They don't understand, he wants to say, they don't know what it is like to grow up the way they did, with the entire village judging them just because of who they are. There's no way to explain, though, that he knows. One can only truly understand prejudice when experiencing it, and that is not something anyone else can do. That stigma is their cross to bear.
"A bit of an asshole is a way to put it, I guess," Kugisaki says at last.
"I would know if he was capable of hurt because I'm his brother, I would be the first he would hurt." Yuuji thinks of the aftermath of his parents' death, when his grandfather accused Sukuna of killing them. You will hurt this entire family, he had said to a then teen Sukuna, who was in shock. He would never do that on purpose; there was no way. And yet, when Yuuji voices it, Kugisaki snorts, and Fushiguro looks away, uncomfortable. He glares at them. "I'm serious."
Kugisaki scoffs. "Sukuna would never hurt you, Itadori. I don't think that it would be the same for everyone else."
A flash of pain echoes against his cheek, a reminder of the singular time that his brother struck him, but he shakes the memory.
"And how can you be so sure?"
"Because he—" she stops and looks at Fushiguro. "Because he's your brother, it's different."
Yuuji thinks about the way Sukuna looked at him at the grocery store, at his strong grip on his shoulder on the way back home. Those hands were used to protect him, no matter how rough they were. Would he use them to hurt Yuuji?
He knows the answer.
"Forget about it," he says at last, sighing. "Maybe you're right, Kugisaki, I'm just spooked because of what happened to him."
His friends look at him, but stay silent, choosing not to say whatever is on their minds. They won't ever understand him, Yuuji realizes. They will never understand the isolating feeling of being born in his family — the looks, the whispered words as they pass. No, he realizes. Only Sukuna will truly understand him — and for that, he must protect his brother. No matter what happens, Yuuji thinks, he has to protect Sukuna just as much as Sukuna would protect him, for they only have each other.
Yuuji notices the commotion as he walks down the main street. It's not every day that there are police cars there – they don't even have a proper police station, the cops have to come from the neighboring town. But now there are two cars parked in front of the mini mart, yellow tape around the entrance and two officers flanking it, making sure no one tries to enter.
He stops behind the small crowd gathered around the place, getting on his tiptoes to try and see what happened. Did someone try to rob the place? If so, Yuuji thinks, there must have been someone too desperate. Theirs is a small village and the prices are not that expensive, so no one has too much money. He doubts the register had enough to justify even going through the trouble of robbery.
"What happened?" He asks the woman who is standing by his side, Nakashima-san.
"Oh, Yuuji-kun." She looks shaken. "Matsumoto-san has died. Someone killed her."
Yuuji's eyes widen. He remembers the look the grocery store's owner gave him the last time he was there, her warning. There is something dark following you. Yuuji had forgotten it after what happened to his brother, but now he can picture it as clear as day, the way she looked scared.
"How?" He asks, voice trembling.
"No one knows yet," the woman answers. Then, she leans closer, lowering her voice: "But it wasn't pretty. There was a lot of blood."
This, somehow, doesn't surprise Yuuji. There's no crime in their village, and somehow, he already knew that the murder had gone down in a violent way. His grandfather used to call it their superior intuition, proof of their connection to the god of the forest. Yuuji calls it a curse, an anxious feeling in his chest he can't get rid of; he has always waited for this, he thinks now. He has always waited for the moment tragedy would strike, for this is the very reason they exist: to protect the village when it happens. And now, Yuuji knows, it's up to him to do something. He and his brother, they must—
"Ah, so you're here too, brat."
Sukuna all but materializes behind him. Unlike the other villagers, he looks relaxed. He keeps his hands in the pockets of his jacket, looking at the police officers and the yellow tape as if it's a daily occurrence. Yuuji wants to chastise him, to tell him to show some respect, a village elder just died.
"Did you know?" Yuuji asks.
Sukuna turns to look at him. There's something about his eyes, about the way they look under the afternoon sun. They have a red tint to them that makes Yuuji uncomfortable and compels him at the same time. He wants to take a step back, to look away, but he finds himself rooted in place, unable to look at anything other than his brother.
"I heard about it this morning," Sukuna says. "They say it was a murder." His voice is too casual, too careless. Then, Sukuna rests a hand on his shoulder and starts pulling him away from the crowd. "Come on, brat, there's nothing to see here, they already moved the body." His grip is not as strong as the other night, but Yuuji knows he won't be able to get away even if he tries. "And you get easily impressed when you see those things."
"I don't." Yuuji's voice is small, and he hates himself for always sounding so childish compared to his brother. "This is awful, that poor woman."
"See? I told you that it was dangerous to walk around these streets alone." His brother drops his grip on his shoulder, but Yuuji can still feel the warmth of his touch. A part of him mourns the loss of it. He wants, no, he craves Sukuna's fingers on him. The thought hits him like a brick, and Yuuji has to force himself to keep walking, making sure he doesn't look at his brother, afraid that Sukuna will somehow know what he's thinking.
As they go home, Yuuji remembers Matsumoto-san's last words to him: And if you let it in, it will eat you whole. He knows, the same way he knew tragedy was about to happen, that she was right. What he doesn't know, however, is whether he has any power to stop it from happening.