Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

So the thing about Yuuji is that, well, Yuuji doesn’t exist.

Itadori Yuuji is a work of fiction that she’s been running since she was a child, and she wished she could put it on her resume because it’s really an impressive show of her acting skills, but she has no idea how she’d format that onto a cover letter.

It started in elementary school. She was always too strong, too prone to fights, and too disinterested in dresses to ever fit in. Boys always called her a loser and a sissy, no matter how many times she pounded them into the ground, and girls always turned their noses up at her and called her a gorilla freak. She’s not entirely sure how she connected two and two together and decided she should just pretend to be a boy, but that’s her story and she’s sticking to it. In her defense, it’s worked out pretty damn well for her so far.

She cruises through middle school as Itadori Yuuji, introducing herself in front of a brand new class sporting the boys uniform and a floppy cut of pink hair courtesy of a pair of gardening shears the morning of. No one questions it. Not even the teachers, which is a little bizarre. Gramps thinks she’s just ‘going through a phase’, and frankly could care less what she wears or what pronoun other people call her by, so he doesn’t call the ruse. The school calls to talk about his grandson getting into fisticuffs, and he just snorts and tells them to fuck off, if his ‘grandson’ can beat those louts up that easily maybe they should stop picking fights with him.

Anyway, Yuuji-kun is the star of his middle school, and she enjoys it desperately. She’s always been great at sports, and this only proves truer as she grows. She shoots up like a bean sprout, taller than the boys in her class, and a thousand times more athletic to boot. She can shoot three pointers and almost touch her fingers to the rim of the hoop when she jumps. Her home run is legendary. People still talk about her sick banana kick. She breaks every single track and field record in the school. Girls flock to Yuuji with chocolates on Valentines day and love letters year round. It makes Yuuji uncomfortable, because for however much she might enjoy being a ‘boy’, she is, in fact, still a girl at heart. She still likes shoujo manga, adores idol groups, and pines after cute boys in class.

The only problem is, she can’t let anyone know. Yuuji is a star athlete, even if he refuses to join any sports clubs. He’s the cool bad boy who can throw down with the best of them, and still turns around and be the sweet and helpful school heartthrob who’s happy to carry your books or stay behind to help clean up. There’s no room in that persona for longing looks at accessory stores, or bottles of nail polish, or cute dresses. It’s… a little lonely. Yeah, she likes going to the arcade with the guys, but sometimes she wants to go shopping too.

Not that she has much to shop for.

Yuuji fools everyone into thinking she’s a boy so easily because she looks like one, too.

She’s almost 180 cm tall, lean and packed with muscle. Her face is still a little soft, almost girlish, but at fifteen that’s normal for boys still. She has hands that can easily palm a basketball and feet that will never fit into the dainty heels other girls wear. Her chest is still basically just as flat as it was at twelve. No wonder everyone assumes she’s a man.

It’s in the middle of this existential crisis— just a few days into her last year as a middle schooler, when every sports club is hounding her to join yet again— that Itadori Yuuji slips into a Liz Lisa store far away from her hometown in downtown Tokyo and manages to summon up enough courage to try something on. She’s far enough away that no one should recognize her, and she made sure her outfit was androgynous as possible, so people don’t think she’s like a pervert or something.

She doesn’t think anything will come out of it. She expects it to look awful on her.

She doesn’t know what she was expecting.

She’s curveless and has no chest. Her legs are so long the hem hits at an awkward length. The fabric is way too tight around her shoulders. She can almost hear the girls from elementary school laughing at her again, calling her too manly. Still, she didn’t come all this way just to fail like this, so she bravely opens the curtains of the dressing room to ask for a bigger size when she nearly topples over a poor hapless woman talking to the store attendant just outside it.

The woman is small and petite and exactly the sort of person that could pull off the dress she was currently trying to pull off. She’s mortified— she nearly flattened the woman and even now, easily towers over her like some kind of freakish giant.

The woman doesn’t see it that way, though.

Not at all.

She shoots up to her feet, waves away her apologies, and says, brightly; “Wow! You’re so tall! What’s your name?”

“Itadori— “ Yuuji almost slips out, ingrained habit at this point. “... Yuuki.”

“Yuuki-chan!” She gasps, delighted. “What a pretty name for a pretty girl!”

Yuuki stares at her in utter disbelief. Pretty? Her?

The woman ducks down to ferret around in her bag, procuring a somewhat crumpled business card with a rushed bow. “My name is Hirose Reiko, and I’m a manager for Blanc Group! Are you busy right now?”

☆

Yuuki still isn’t sure how it happens, but apparently she’s a teen idol now.

She thinks she looks ridiculous in every single outfit they put her in, but apparently she’s the only one. Reiko-san says she has legs that go for miles, a cute smile, and a perfect modeling figure. This is all news to Yuuki, who is fairly certain she has the perfect body for contact sports, not modeling. But Reiko-san insists, and Reiko-san is Yuuki’s manager now, so she supposes she’ll take her word for it.

Ojii-chan doesn’t ask where she gets the money for his upgraded hospital care. Yuuki is quietly relieved; she doesn’t think her grandfather will care either way, but it’s still a bit too embarrassing to put into words.

She went from being the extremely male star athlete of her school to a… member of an all girls idol group?

She’s still in awe of her life, honestly. Just how much weirder can it get?

(Spoiler: It can get much, much weirder.)

☆

Yuuki meets the legendary Nobuko Takada on a sunny weekend in Shinjuku, and almost immediately falls in love.

Meeting Takada-chan is… eye opening, to say the least.

They’re meant to be in the same idol group, but Takada has been in the industry a lot longer than Yuuki’s mere handful of weeks. She’s a darling of the industry. And at 180cm tall without heels, she and Yuuki are the same height. And shoe size. Yuuki is in awe. They have similar builds, too, but nothing about Takada looks awkward or ungainly. She moves like a ballerina, not a lineman, and that’s all it takes for Yuuki. She’s not sure if she wants to love Takada-chan, or be Takada-chan. Probably both.

Not only is she gorgeous, she’s also super nice too. She doesn’t laugh when Yuuki tells her she pretends to be a boy most of the time, that she’s good at sports and not much else, that she’s never worn makeup before. She just asks if Yuuki wants to be an idol, and Yuuki surprises herself by answering with a resounding yes. It’s not what she expected of life, but she’s warmed up to the idea. She wants to be an idol— and a good one, a famous one, like Takada-chan. She doesn’t want to feel awkward in her own skin anymore.

Takada-chan smiles as she confesses all this, and promises that they’ll both make this idol group great, together.

☆

ポプテピピック

POP TEAM EPIC

☆

Jii-chan told her, on his dying breath, to protect others. She was strong, he said, so she should do her best to help others who didn’t have her strength. Whether he was referring to her, frankly outrageous, physical strength or her strength of character Yuuki isn’t sure, but she optimistically hopes it was both.

She thinks its both, because she thinks an indomitable strength of will as well as a basically invulnerable physique is the only real way to survive Ryomen Sukuna.

It starts as a (somewhat) normal day for her.

Her idol group has a live show at the Tokyo Dome tomorrow, but for today, they’re just going over sound checks and logistics. Takada-chan is as calm and collected as ever, looking completely comfortable and at ease as she stares up into an empty stadium that can easily fit fifty thousand people. Maya-chan is sort of curled up on  the ground and seems to be muttering some kind of prayer under her breath. Chisato-chan is somewhere between Takada-chan and Maya-chan— not quite entirely calm, but also not on the verge of a nervous meltdown. Yuuki is nearly vibrating out of her skin in excitement. Performing at the Tokyo Dome is every idol group’s dream! And they sold out within hours!

Some days she wonders if her Jii-chan would be proud of her and what she’s accomplished; other days she wonders if he’d be disappointed she didn’t continue her education. Days like today, she’s fairly sure he’d be proud.

“Taka-chan, Taka-chan,” she calls cheerfully into the mic. “Try a Taka-chan beam!”

Takada laughs heartily, and gamely bounds up to the front of the enormous stage to shout; “Taka-tan~!!”

It works in lightening the mood, and Maya slowly uncurls from her neurotic puddle and crawls closer to them.

“Your turn, Yuu-chan!”

“Eh?” Yuuki tilts her head. “But I don’t really have a special move…”

“What are you talking about?” Takada giggles. “You’re our pretty pink pastel charm!”

Yuuki blushes. “I meant that as a joke, ya know…”

“But it was so cute when you did it on the live stream the other day.” Takada points out.

“Ah, Taka-chan’s right!” Maya agrees.

Yuuki sighs, but gives it a shot. She skips up to the front next to Takada, takes a breath and stares out into the staggering rows of seats. “Hi everyone! It’s me, your pretty pink pastel charm, Yuuki-chan desu~ ♡” She throws up a peace sign for good measure.

Takada squeals and throws her arms around her. “Perfect, Yuu-chan! That was so cute!”

“Ahhh, you really think so?” She scratches her cheek, trying to play it cool even though her heart is beating out of her chest.

“Totally,” Takada says, and despite her upbeat tone Yuuki can still hear the seriousness in her voice. “You’re super, suuuuper cute, Yuuki.”

She’s been an idol for more than a year now, but Takada can still read her like a book. She still remembers her days as ‘Itadori Yuuji’, hiding her monstrous strength behind a male persona. She could never have believed she could be up on the biggest stage in the country as one of the cutest girls in a girl idol group back then, and yet here she was, the ‘pretty pink pastel charm’ of their group.

“T— Thanks, Taka-chan.” She means that, sincerely.

Takada hugs her closer. “Anytime, Yuu-chan!”

“Everyone,” Chisato calls, distracting them. She looks back to see the blonde near the back of the stage. “Sound check’s over— Reiko-san is calling us back now.”

With a nod, they all leave the stage to go over some more logistics for the day-of. It’s going to be a hellishly early morning start, and Yuuki is not looking forward to it. It’s not even six in the afternoon but she’s already so tired— she has no idea how she’s going to make it through the whole day tomorrow!

Fortunately, Reiko releases them all to return home and rest up before the big show. She gives the usual spiel; avoid caffeine, make sure to hydrate, don’t eat anything salty, and go to bed early. They all file out one by one until it’s just Takada and Yuuki left.

“Taka-chan?” Yuuki looks over her bag at her friend and fellow idol, who doesn’t seem to have even started packing up her bag.

“Eh?” She looks up from her phone. “Oh sorry Yuu-chan, you can head out without me! I think I want to practice some lines a little more on stage before I leave.”

That’s just like Takada-chan, to stay late just to make sure she nails her performance. Yuuki can’t help but be inspired by her, sometimes.

“Okay, don’t stay too late!” She waves in farewell, heading out the door.

The Dome is like a labyrinth inside, and once outside again she’s stunned by how dark it is in some of the unlit halls. Most of the technicians have headed home for the day as well, making the whole place seem hollow and positively cavernous.

Honestly, she doesn’t know what it is that makes her stop before leaving the building properly.

It was just… just a bad feeling. An odd feeling, like ice water poured down her spine. There’s something about the sight of twilight descending on the empty parking lots that makes Yuuki take a step back, towards the door. Something doesn’t feel right. Yuuki wouldn’t say she’s a naturally superstitious person, but she definitely believes in listening to her gut instinct.

She thinks there’s no harm in doubling back just to check on Takada-chan. The idea of the other idol being alone in the empty stadium doesn’t sit well with her.

It’s a decision that changes her life, for good or for ill.

☆

When it’s all over, it’s pretty apparent they’re not going to be able to perform here tomorrow.

She would have never expected to see half the stage destroyed in the aftermath of a monster rampage, but, well, there it is. And the monsters in question were very, very dead— by Yuuki’s hand. Or was it Sukuna’s?

She hadn’t meant to swallow that disgusting looking finger. It had just sort of… happened. It was flying through the air one moment, in her hand the next. It looked like the creatures were… fighting over it, or something. They all turned their attention to Yuuki, and Yuuki had no idea what she was supposed to do but fighting them off sounded like the only real option. She didn’t do too badly, if she did say so herself— although Reiko-san was going to birth kittens when she saw the bruises on her face— until she’d gotten caught in the swing of one of their giant tails and ended up being launched into the air. The finger flew from her grip; the tail wrapped around her in an unflinching grip. As the finger tumbled back to earth, she could see the monsters scrambling towards it. She’d meant to just lean back and catch it with her teeth before they could grab it, but instead she sort of just… swallowed it. The next thing she knew, Takada-chan was still crying, the place was a wreck, and all the monsters were a bloody mess strewn across the stadium.

Takada says Yuuki saved them both. Yuuki can’t really remember any of it, so she’ll have to take her friend’s word for it. Takada doesn’t really know what the hell happened, either, and so they sit together in the wreckage of what would have been their stage tomorrow, as day turns to night, and wonder what to do. Do they call their manager? Do they tell someone? But who the hell would believe them?

In the end, it’s taken care of for them.

A boy around Yuuki’s age named Fushiguro hops over the wreckage from the outside of the dome, flashlight in hand. He’s not alone; a pretty brunette in some kind of school uniform follows after him. Come to think of it, Fushiguro is in a school uniform too…

They ask Takada and her a lot of questions— Yuuki is of little help. Takada manages to gather herself enough to answer them in a surprisingly clear and level voice. That’s their fearless leader though; brave in the face of crowds and monsters.

“Do you have any idea how they were destroyed?” This comes from the girl, Kugisaki, who’s casting a scrutinizing look around the dome.

Yuuki freezes.

Carefully, Takada leans over and takes Yuuki’s hands, threading their fingers together. “I don’t really know,” she replies— which probably isn’t a lie. “But they were fighting each other the whole time… I don’t even think they really noticed us.”

Her heart is in her chest. She’s sure her face is clammy and pale as a ghost, but the two must just chalk it up to shock because they don’t seem to notice.

The boy, Fushiguro, crosses his arms with a frown. “Did any of them get away?”

“I— I don’t know.” Takada stutters out, the only sign of her nervousness. “We weren’t really watching the fight.”

“What were you doing then?” Kugisaki asks, incredulously.

“Hiding.” Takada deadpans. Kugisaki looks away, expression sheepish.

Fushiguro nods. “That was smart of you both. I’m glad neither of you are hurt. Was there anyone else here?”

The two girls exchange a look. Yuuki finally summons up her trademark courage to add; “I don’t think so. I was one of the last to leave— the parking lot was empty when I got out there.”

“You were leaving?” Fushiguro frowns further. “But you turned back?”

Cold sweat breaks out on her neck. “I— well—

“She was worried about me being alone here,” Takada cuts in. “So she came back to check on me.”

Fushiguro sighs, and fortunately, takes it at face value. “I see.”

“Yoohoo~ how’s it going here? Find the finger yet?”

Both Takada and Yuuki freeze up in fear as a new voice cuts through the air and a man literally appears out of thin air. Not even the ever unflinching Takada is unphased, making a tiny squeak of surprise as she jumps in her seat. Yuuki doesn’t fare much better; her heart feels like it’s going to beat out of her chest.

Finger. He said finger.

Fushiguro gives the newcomer a level look. “We have company, sensei.”

“Ara?” The man peers over Fushiguro’s shoulder— which seems redundant, because he’s also wearing a blindfold of some kind. “So we do! Hmm, you two look sort of familiar— do you work at the school?”

Takada and Yuuki exchange a glance. So they are students of some kind? This is rather bizarre.

Fushiguro palms his face. “No. They’re idols, Gojo.”

The tall, white-haired man— Gojo— slaps a fist against one hand. You can almost see the light bulb going off over his head. “Oh! Pastel Palettes, that’s right! Wahh~ how lucky! I’m a big fan!”

Both Yuuki and Takada exchange deadpan looks. Yeah. That’s not a surprise— he’s definitely weird looking enough to be one of their adult male fans, alright.

Fushiguro sighs.

“You’re a fucking embarrassment, sensei.” Kugisaki drolls, rolling her eyes.

“Rude!” Their sensei gasps. “I swear, the youth just have no respect these days…” He laments tragically, before entirely changing tact; “Well it looks like the excitement’s just about over here. Megumi, don’t you think you should escort these two out?”

Fushiguro groans, but doesn’t refute the command. He gestures to the two of them, looking put upon. “I’m sorry about his… everything— but he’s probably right. Is there anyone I can call for you two?”

“No, that’s alright, we have a driver who can pick us up.” Takada assures him, standing.

Yuuki does as well, still clinging to the brunette. Fushiguro starts to usher them towards one of the still-standing exits, when Yuuki stops abruptly.

Fushiguro looks at her questioningly.

“Umm… look I’m really not looking for specifics here,” she begins, biting her lip. “But can someone tells us what exactly just happened here? Those were monsters, right?”

The three exchange a glance. Then Fushiguro sighs. “Those were curses. They’re— supernatural monsters created by pools of negative human emotion.”

Takada gasps. “There’s more of them?”

“There are over 10,000 cases of mysterious deaths in Japan alone,” Fushiguro drones, sounding as if he’s parroting an overused speech. “Most of those are because of curses. They appear everywhere, but normally in places that attract negative emotions— think hospitals, schools, prisons.”

“Not stadiums,” Yuuki points out, quietly.

“Yeah, not usually. This was an… unusual situation.”

There’s an offbeat pause of awkward silence, as Yuuki weighs her next question.

She decides to just go for it.

“Finger.” She blurts out. They all stare at her. She flushes, but continues; “You mentioned a finger, earlier. That’s— that’s the thing they were all fighting over, right?”

“You saw it?” Gojo asks, playful attitude dropped in favor of urgency.

Yuuki nods, slowly. “Well, I think so. They looked like they were fighting over something small…”

Takada is watching her with big, luminous gold eyes. Yuuki steadfastly doesn’t look in her direction.

“Did you see which one ate it?”

So there is something to eating it… Yuuki’s stomach drops. Oh god.

She can’t manage anything else but a trembling shake of her head.

“It was small, this place was a mess, those monsters were fighting each other and Yuuki-chan and I were just trying not to get caught up in all of it.” Takada answers for her. Yuuki wants to sob in relief. Her senpai is always so reliable. “Sorry, but it was really hard to say.”

“Whichever one managed to get it probably killed the rest,” Fushiguro muses, more to his companions than to them.

“And then left?” Kugisaki finishes, frowning.

Gojo shakes his head. “Hmm, I wonder about that…” He taps his finger against his chin. “Maa, well. There’s no reason to hold these two up over the investigations.”

Fushiguro nods. “Don’t worry about having to come up with a story— we’ll do that for you.” He assures them. “Someone from the college will be in touch.”

☆

Yuuki lounges in her bath, alone with her own thoughts.

Or, well.

Not exactly alone.

She’s got a surly, grumpy, mean-spirited man who calls himself the King of Curses stuck in her stomach.

“Un-fucking believable…” The curse is grousing in her head. “A little wench like you, besting ME? The King of Curses? I refuse to believe it.”

“Well, believe it,” Yuuki counters, dryly. “Because it happened, and I’m not letting you out again after that mess you made earlier.”

“I saved your life, didn’t I?” He spits back.

“Sure, but then you were about to kill my friend and then wreak havoc upon the city.” Yuuki points out, unmoved. “Thanks for saving my life and all, but no thanks.”

“If you were truly that thankful, you’d offer me something in recompense.”

Yuuki frowns, lifting a foot out of the bathtub and examining her leg with a furrowed brow. She definitely remembered slamming it against a steel pole, earlier. But there’s not a mark on her, anymore. Was that usual for her? She never felt injuries for long, that was true. But a few hours was a new record, even for her…

“Like what?” She snorts, pulling her thoughts back to the surreal conversation she’s having with her new tenant. “A signed poster? One of my figurines?”

“One of your what?”

“Nevermind.” Yuuki shrugs. “I’m not doing anything for you, sorry. Not if it includes hurting other people.”

“What if I just asked you to find the rest of my fingers for me?”

Yuuki pauses, frowning deeper. She drops her leg back into the warm bath. “You want me to find your other fingers?”

“Yes.”

“How many more are there?”

“Nineteen.”

Yuuki blinks furiously. “... how did you have twenty fingers?”

“I had four arms.”

Sure, because that made just as much sense as everything else did today.

Yuuki sighs loudly, slumping into the water. “I mean, I’ll try my best. But it was just luck that I found one in the first place, you know.”

“One is all it takes,” the curse— Sukuna— says, with surety. “I’ll be able to sense the others when they’re near.”

Yuuki contemplates it. It sounds like a bad idea all around. Actually, it sounds like Sukuna is underestimating her. He didn’t really get to see her toss those other curses around like toys before she swallowed his finger, so she supposes she doesn’t really blame him. After all, he appears to have a very low opinion of women in general— he probably thinks if she eats another, he’ll be able to take over her body.

Yuuki smirks. He’s in for a surprise, for sure.

“Wellllll,” she drawls, trying not to sound smug. “If we happen to run into one, I guess I can do you this favor. But I have my own life and obligations, so I can’t just take off and leave to go find them.”

Sukuna growls in outrage. “Absolutely not! You’ll start immediately! Just who do you think you’re talking to here, you useless wench?!”

“Just who do you think you’re talking to?” She counters, unbothered by his tone. He continues to shout, but she just ignores him with a victorious smile, grabs her headphones, and cranks the volume up as loud as it will go.

☆

For such an angry rat bastard, Sukuna is hilariously fascinated by the world of idols.

He asks her endless questions, about everything. What are those candles (stage lights, and those weird glass black eyes that keep following her around (cameras), and why are the buildings so tall and shiny, what are they made out of? He apparently had been cut up and sealed for a thousand years, so Yuuki can’t really blame him for the curiosity. Plus, when he’s so focused on the world around him, he forgets to act all mean and angry.

And the best part?

He’s an absolute simp for Taka-chan.

“She is a stunning creature of pure perfection,” he acknowledges, sounding revenant.

Yuuki barely keeps it together, having to fake a coughing fit to cover her laughs.

Not that she disagrees, precisely, but she is curious what it is about Taka-chan that seems to draw him in. She does have a very great figure, and a cute face, and— according to Sukuna— she is of the perfect height and physique. Apparently he’s never seen a woman as tall as Takada (or Yuuki for that matter) before. Considering he was last alive during the Heian period, Yuuki doesn’t doubt it. No one in the whole world was very tall at the time.

On her part, Takada is extremely worried for her kouhai after last night’s events, but is somewhat placated by Yuuki’s assurances that she’s fine. When it’s just the two of them, she confesses that she can hear Sukuna in her head— but promises that’s it. He can’t take over her body again like he had last night.

Surprisingly, this makes Takada giggle. “That’s probably for the best.” She leans closer, whispering conspiratorially, “It would really be bad if you two switched on stage and we found out he had stage fright.”

Yuuki can’t help but let out a few snickers of her own at the mere thought. The fearsome King of Curses, trussed up in some cute frilly idol outfit, in front of a stage of adoring, screaming fans? Sukuna does not appreciate her sense of humor; still, the mental image works in turning him off the idea of attempting to take over her body without warning. He’d rather not be stuck wearing something like that.

Their manager calls them back to the studio soon after. Their concert might be postponed, but practice must go on.

And if Yuuki thought Sukuna was scandalized by the outfits, she clearly hadn’t seen his reaction yet to the dances.

☆

Surprisingly enough, she thinks she and Sukuna get along pretty well.

For all that he calls them weak and useless maggots, she’s fairly certain Sukuna has something of a soft spot for women and children. Not that she’d ever acknowledge it aloud, lest he go out of his way to disprove her theory (yeah, he was that kind of tsundere). As much as he dismissed them, he also seemed to find it beneath him to go after them himself. It had to be some kind of fucked up, bullshit curse-version of bushido or something; he sneered at curses who went deliberately after women and children, and thought them worse than trash. He deemed women useless, yet apparently never went out of his way to hurt them. He relished in telling her he’d killed plenty of women and children in his day, but Yuuki couldn’t help but notice they seemed to be more collateral damage than intentional attacks.

At any rate, he was still definitely a piece of misogynistic patriarchal trash, but she was working on that.

Slowly.

With one ground breaking punch at a time.

The first time he’d seen her launch a curse straight through fifteen concrete walls, he was so stunned she could practically see his mouth dropping open, and his head falling off his hand as he lounged on his silly skull throne. He definitely changed his tune about her being ‘weak and useless’ after that. He still thought her occupation to be nothing short of bizarre, and her choice in clothing scandalous, but at least he held her in some regard.

He even, begrudgingly, had started to acknowledge her value as a worthy vessel.

They stumbled upon his second finger after a meet and greet in Saitama. She remembered it clearly— they’d been passing over an innocuous bridge when Sukuna suddenly ripped her right out of her light doze. She made note of the location— the Yasohachi Bridge in East Saitama— and made her way out that way later that evening.

She wastes no time in destroying the mole-like curse hiding beneath the bridge, and actually manages to hold her own for a bit against the much stronger, finger-bearing curse hidden in the other curse’s barrier.

It’s much, much stronger than any curse she’s run into yet. Sukuna refers to it as a ‘special-grade’; apparently he himself also bears that title, although he insists they’re in entirely different leagues. And he’s right: he takes it out with barely any effort when Yuuki could only manage to dodge its attacks.

Much to Sukuna’s dismay, even with a second finger, Yuuki’s will remains as strong as her superior physical strength.

☆

Yuuki wakes up with a wide yawn.

She looks around at her surroundings. Where is she, and how’d she get here again? Ah, that’s right. She spent the night at Takada-chan’s place. They had gotten in late from a concert last night, and Yuuki just had no time or energy to drag herself all the way back to the dorms when Takada’s place was so much closer. She would have slyly prodded Sukuna about sleeping in the same room as his precious Takada-chan, but he was still thoroughly traumatized by the events of last night and was buried somewhere deep in her subconscious.

Serves him right after trying to take over last night, in the middle of a concert no less! He must have sensed the large, concentrated chaotic energy of the crowd around them and thought something interesting was happening. Interesting as in, the things that interest Sukuna, re: death, chaos, despair or some combination therein.

Instead he was beamed in the face by a passing stagelight turned up to megawatt voltage before he could properly open his eyes. Suffice it to say, he did not try to come back out again at any point last night.

Sukuna’s surprise appearance aside, the concert had been a resounding success. Yuuki wasn’t all that confident in her singing voice, but it was easy when she had three other girls with her to cover when she messed up. And the dancing? Ha, Yuuki had that part in the bag. She was the best dancer, hands down. Even the fans voted so!

In a surprisingly good mood for such an early hour, Yuuki decides to start cooking her and Takada some breakfast.

She’s just getting the rice cooker going when Sukuna finally emerges.

“Tell me it’s over.”

“It’s over.”

He lets out a low growl, a churlish eye and mouth appearing on her cheek. “What sort of nonsense even was that?”

“I told you, a concert.” Yuuki answers, surprisingly patient. Sukuna is impressively quick with all this ‘modern world’ stuff, very rarely needing an explanation for things he can suss out on his own. A phone, for example, was a novel concept to him but didn’t require much explanation on her part. At least for the actual calling part. The internet was still a work in progress. She’d explained a concert before, and even pulled up a video of one of their old ones to watch, but it seemed he still wasn’t clear on the topic.

“That was nothing like what you showed me earlier!” He denies, sounding harassed.

Yuuki giggles. “Well, of course not! That was just a recording from someone in the crowd, this was the real deal!”

“Never again,” he avows, disturbed.

Yuuki rolls her eyes. “Yeah, no can do.” She examines her nail beds as she waits for the frying pan to heat up. “That’s, like, half my job you know.”

“If you just let me do what I want, you wouldn’t need a job.” Sukuna returns, leering. “I could lay the world at your feet.”

“Don’t you mean, your feet?” Yuuki rolls her eyes again.

There’s a rustling sound from behind her. Then she hears Takada’s sleepy voice; “Ne, Yuuki-chan, have you seen my—

The peaceful, idyllic morning is rent asunder by an unholy shriek.

Takada points widely at her cheek, eyes nearly popping out of her skull, where Sukuna’s single manifested eye is staring at her with an equally wide and caught off guard gaze.

“Oh, Taka-chan, I guess I haven’t introduced you two yet!” Yuuki grins widely. “Taka-chan, this is Sukuna, the— uh, guy who’s finger I ate that one day.”

“What?!”

She rubs the back of her head sheepishly. “Yeah, apparently he was like, the King of Curses or something? Anyway when I ate his finger I activated his conscious, or something. So now he does this weird thing sometimes.”

“So that’s where those scars came from,” Takada says, blinking furiously.

“Yep!” Yuuki nods, then pokes her own cheek. “Oi, Sukuna, you going to introduce yourself, or do I have to do it for you?”

The mouth on her cheek opens and closes uselessly a few times. The eye blinks once, twice, and then the whole thing disappears.

Takada stares at it in wonder.

Yuuki chuckles. “Hmm~ I guess he was just feeling shy?”

She feels the mental equivalent of a punch to the gut for her insolence. Despite the pain, she regrets nothing. It was so worth it. Teasing Sukuna is the best part about having him around.

Takada, on her part, takes it all like a champ. It only takes her a few seconds to regain her bearings. She scratches her cheek, with an expression of distant confusion, as if she can’t believe she’s actually about to do this. Then she bows her head very carefully and says, “It’s nice to meet you, ah, Sukuna-... sama?”

If curses could squeal in glee like teenage girls in front of their favorite movie star, he would do it. When she points out to him that he’s acting like a fanboy, he drags her into their shared mental space just to decapitate her a couple times.

Still.

Worth it.

☆

They find the third just as serendipitously. Or, well, Yuuki thinks its coincidence— Sukuna is certain it’s anything but.

Pastel Palettes finally has their big concert at the Tokyo Dome, attracting thousands of their fans and launching them into the stratosphere of popularity. They’re album is a hit. Yuuki had never expected it to do so well, but it delights her nonetheless. She’s taken her grandfather’s words to heart— protecting those who can’t, and making sure that she’ll be surrounded by people when she dies.

“Surrounded by people?" Sukuna repeats, snorting. “They’ll have a day of national mourning for you at this rate.”

Yuuki perks up. “You think so?”

Sukuna doesn’t answer, too busy eying up the man next in line to shake her hand. He looks scandalized when Yuuki moves to hold out her hands to him. “Don’t touch that disgusting pig! He’s beneath you!”

“He paid to be here,” Yuuki replies, laughing. “And it’s just for five seconds.”

“Yuuki-chan, I love you,” the man simpers, and Sukuna gags in her mind.

Yuuki is also internally gagging, but she shows her indomitable spirit of will once again by putting on a blinding smile outwardly. “Ah, thank you very much~”

“Yuuki-chan, can you give me an introduction please?”

Yuuki blinks, then shrugs. It’s not a ‘Taka-tan beam’ or anything, but sure. She holds up the peace sign. “Hi hi~ I’m you’re pretty pastel pink charm, Yuuki-chan desu ♡”

The man swoons. One of the officiators comes by to gently push him out of the way for the next customer, a nice, dark-haired woman. But the man fights him off, saying he wants more time with Yuuk-chan.

Yuuki watches with a wince as he starts to make a scene. A few other body guards drift away from the other girls to help hers.

“You should just eviscerate this pathetic worm,” is Sukuna’s unhelpful two cents.

“Not in front of a crowd.” Yuuki shoots back.

“Hey, fucker, you’ve got a line back here!”

Yuuki blinks in surprise. Without further ado, the woman behind him in line executes an elegant roundhouse kick and he slumps to the ground.

“Sorry about that,” she says, and tosses her silky bob of black hair over her shoulder.

“No need,” Yuuki replies, voice high. “Thank you so much for that.”

“Eh, guys like that are so gross.” She shrugs, then holds out one of Yuuki’s posters. “I was actually hoping you could sign this poster for my son, instead of a handshake?”

“Yes, of course!” Yuuki giggles. “Anything for my savior~”

Sukuna grunts. “She’s your savior? What the hell am I, then?”

“My freeloader.”

The woman waves her off. “It was nothing really.”

“Not at all! That was an epic move!” Yuuki grins.

“You think so?” She laughs. “It’s been a while since I went to a Judo class, but I guess I’ve still got it.”

“I wish you could teach me that,” Yuuki sighs. She’s never had any formal training, just what she knows from street fights and her own athleticism.

The woman gives her a quick once over. Yuuki is fairly sure she’s sizing her up and deciding an idol like her would have no chance at learning, but she surprises her by saying; “Maybe if we meet again. I wouldn’t want to hold up the line.”

Yuuki grins. “Fair point. Who is this for?”

“ Could you sign it for ‘Junpei’?”

“Sure!” She agrees, as she leans down with a marker to write out; To Junpei, a big thank you from your pretty pink pastel charm ♡~ and signs it with a flourish.

Yuuki eyes the new CDs she has stacked next to her, then looks back at the woman. “And what’s your name?”

The woman blinks. “Yoshino Nagi.”

She grabs one of the CDs. Epic kick, Nagi-san! Signs it, and hands it back to her with a cheeky grin. Nagi laughs, but accepts it.

Later, after the signing is over, Yuuki is dismayed to realize she accidentally missed her ride back to the studio. Not only that, but the gloomy skies had opened up in an absolute downpour as well. Hailing a cab in this weather was going to be murder.

Yuuki leans back against the back entrance door, sighing.

She debates calling Takada, but feels silly. It was her fault for getting caught up in the nearby convenience store. She just hadn’t expected to get her period today! And she had to do something right away or else chance bleeding through her outfit. Plus, if she didn’t deal with it right away Sukuna would get progressively more neurotic about it. Apparently bathing in the blood of his enemies was all fine and dandy, but even the hint of menstrual blood had him running for the hills. For a thousand year old King of Curses, he could be just as annoyingly bratty as any other male she knew.

“Eh? Yuuki-chan?”

Yuuki blinked in surprise, turning to the side where the woman from earlier was leaning against a stack of crates with a cigarette.

“Ah— Yoshino-san!”

“You really remembered my name…” The woman muttered in disbelief. Then she shook her head. “Anyway, what are you doing here?”

Yuuki laughed sheepishly. “Well, I might have accidentally missed my ride back…”

“They left you?!” Yoshino-san gasps, looking outraged on her behalf. “They just left a cute, young defenseless girl like you to fend for herself? Is your management crazy?!”

I’m not as defenseless as you think, Yuuki sweatdropped internally, but refrained from mentioning that aloud.

“It was my fault.” Yuuki denies, weakly.

“That doesn’t matter! That’s so irresponsible, honestly, you’re only— how old are you?”

“I just turned sixteen.”

Yoshino looks like she’s about to have an apoplexy. “You’re the same age as my son! This is ridiculous. Alright, that’s it, I’m driving you back.”

Yuuki immediately protests. “No that’s fine, I can just call a cab—

“Absolutely not, unless they’re reimbursing you!”

They probably wouldn’t, honestly.

Yuuki’s silence apparently damns her.

“Nope, nope. You’re coming with me. My car’s just in the garage below—

Yuuki’s stomach, the fucking traitor, takes the opportunity to groan so loudly Yoshino actually stops her rant. Yuuki wants the ground to swallow her up whole.

Yoshino just sighs. “They didn’t even feed you, either? How long was the event?”

“It started this morning.” Her reply sounds weak even to her ears.

Yoshino shakes her head, a determined expression on her face. “Do your parents know where you are?”

Yuuki looks down at the hem of her dress, toeing a puddle in front of her. “I, uh, don’t have parents.”

“... An aunt? Uncle? Grandmother?”

She blushes miserably, shaking her head in silence.

Yoshino’s eyes soften. “Well then, let’s see about getting some food in you, huh? And then I’ll take you wherever you need to go.”

The answer is ‘nowhere’. The studio is likely closed— that’s just where the bus drops them off because most of the staff park there during events. Even if she hadn’t missed it, she would have had to call a cab from there anyway or walk to a station. Their company dorms were a little too far to walk to, especially in this weather. And Takada and the others might wonder where she was, but they didn’t live in the dorms any more and wouldn’t notice she wasn’t there.

But Yuuki didn’t like to think on it that much, so she just shrugged and took Yoshino’s offered hand.

☆

Yuuki had a great time at the Yoshino household.

Nagi’s son, Junpei, was very sweet but shy. He nearly fainted when he saw Yuuki-chan— his favorite idol— in their kitchen helping his mom cook dinner. Nagi cheerfully explained the circumstances, brushing over the whole rideless fiasco at the end. Junpei seemed too stunned to question it.

Yuuki badgered Nagi into writing down her recipe, even if she insisted it was just ‘plain old packet curry’. Packet curry or not, it was currently Sukuna’s favorite dish— actually beating out hamburgers, to Yuuki’s surprise. There were only a few things that made Sukuna happy; chaos, bloodshed, indulging in carnal desires, and hamburgers. And Yoshino-san’s curry now too, she supposed.

Nagi was an absolute riot, and the two got on like a house on fire. Junpei came out of his shell as the evening wore on, and the two of them managed to drag him into a card game with them. It was probably getting way too late, but Yuuki couldn’t find it in herself to drag herself away. It had been… ages since she’d had fun like this. The life of an idol was fun, in a way, but it was also fast-paced and stressful, and it was work. She could never forget that it was a job to her, a source of income. And she loved Takada, and her groupmates, but even when they hung out it never felt like this. Sitting here with Junpei and Yoshino-san… it felt like she was part of a family again. Like she had somewhere to belong. She knew it was all just a lie, but it felt too nice to indulge in it to leave now.

Yoshino-san wasn’t helping her willpower, insisting she stay the night, as it was still raining terribly outside and it was getting very late.

Yuuki could only manage a half-hearted protest; she really didn’t put up much fight when Yoshino rolled out a futon in the living room for her. They stayed up chatting even after Junpei went to bed: Yoshino was so fascinated by the life of an idol, and Yuuki was happy to share. She hadn’t chatted with someone outside of the idol world like this in ages.

Yoshino had finally fallen asleep after her seventh beer or so. Yuuki smiled fondly at her, and grabbed the blanket off the back of the couch and draped it around her shoulders.

It’s just as Yuuki is settling in to sleep herself that she feels a… pulse in the air. It’s in time with her own heartbeat.

A lump settles in her chest, and Sukuna springs to the forefront of her mind.

“Is this…?” She trails off, bewildered.

“Yes, it’s one of my fingers you’re sensing.” Sukuna confirms.

“Here? Now???” She asks, incredulous.

Together, they both turn back to the table where Yoshino is still dozing. Somehow, in the interim of her putting the blanket over the woman and settling into her own futon, one of Sukuna’s fingers has just… appeared, right in the middle of the table.

Yuuki gapes at it. “That… that wasn’t there earlier.”

Sukuna seems just as shaken by it’s sudden appearance. “No it was not.” He agrees. “And I didn’t sense it until just now.”

They both tabel the obvious question of how it got there for later, because a curse is emerging from beneath the floorboards, evidently drawn to the power of the finger.

Sukuna’s eyes slide open beneath her own. The hapless, misshapen curse pulls away from Yoshino as it senses rising curse power. It gives a little pathetic yelp as it locks eyes with Sukuna.

☆

Something is amiss.

That much is evident.

Someone or something planted that finger there, and Sukuna wants to know who, and why.

The day after is her day off, so she acquiesces to his wishes and prowls the town in search of the mysterious previous owner of her now third finger. It seems like a search in vain to her— Tokyo is enormous, how does Sukuna expect to find the culprit? But he explains that curse energy leaves a distinctive mark on the world around them. He can use the mark left behind on his finger to track who had it last.

If that’s the case though, why don’t people ever try to track her down? Curses overlook her all the time, as if she’s just another human, and not the tenant to the strongest curse of all time.

Sukuna reveals he’s been cloaking his own presence, from both other curses and what he calls ‘Jujutsu Sorcerers’— people like Fushiguro, and the people he was with that fateful night.

That deception only ever works in their favor, people forever underestimating her— and it’s about to do the same now.

Sukuna tracks the culprit into the bowels of the Tokyo sewage system. It’s disgusting, and Yuuki is glad she wore a pair of shapeless sweats and a sweatshirt— her old ‘Yuuji’ clothes, that she never wears anymore, and pushed all her hair into a baseball cap to stave off the grease. She’s going to have to wash it either way at this point though, she laments silently.

The curse they find is… different than the others.

It’s less like the mindless beasts she’s seen so far, and much more like Sukuna.

That doesn’t seem to worry Sukuna though, who looks at him like he’s dirt beneath his foot.

“Could this be— ? Is it really Ryomen Sukuna-sama?” The curse in question gasps, sounding far too delighted for someone who’s already pissed the King of Curses off.

Sukuna just stares down at him coolly.

“I heard you had returned, but no one has seen or heard from you since…” The silver-haired curse tilts his head. “My friends have been looking for you, but you’re a pretty hard man to find, hehe!”

Nothing he says is particularly endearing him to Sukuna, Yuuki can tell. Predictably, Sukuna ignores all of that: “Where did you get my finger?”

“Your finger?” The curse blinks.

“You gave it to that human woman.” Sukuna elaborates. “I want to know why.”

“Ehhh? A human?” The curse dramatically twirls in a circle, eyes at the ceiling. “Hmm... hmm… ah, you mean Junpei-kun’s kaa-chan!”

Yuuki flinches. So it hadn’t been an accident that it had been left in front of Nagi after all.

“Ne, did you like my gift, Sukuna-sama?” The curse asks, eagerly. “I’d be happy to give you more. Won’t you come with me? I promise there’s more where that—

Sukuna hasn’t even lifted a finger, and the curse’s head is nearly lopped clean off his body. It’s only a quick reflex that has it severing half his torso instead. Even that gruesome wound won’t be enough to incapacitate it, Yuuki knows. Especially if it can talk like Sukuna— it’s on a much higher level than most curses. And it knows who Junpei is… and targeted Nagi on purpose. The thought makes her blood boil, and in response, Sukuna’s cursed energy output nearly doubles.

At the very least, the other curse has realized the error of his ways.

“S— Sukuna-sama…” This time he at least manages a somewhat deferential tone. “I didn’t mean to offend you…”

“Didn’t you?” Sukuna raises a cool brow. “If you really understood the situation you were in, you’d be on your knees, and answering my question.”

“I just wanted to play with Junpei-kun a little more!” The curse yelps, falling to its knees. “I thought it might be fun to leave him with a little gift. I wasn’t aware you knew him, Sukuna-sama.”

Yuuki is so angry she nearly accidentally wrestles control back from Sukuna, and only just manages to stop herself.

“So it wasn’t even an offering for me, then? I see.” Sukuna stares down at him with a frigid gaze. “How pathetic.”

☆

And the saga of Sukuna’s property damage continues… Yuuki muses, as she crawls her way out of the now ruined sewers.

Sukuna scoffs. “I didn’t see you complaining when I was beating that worthless worm into the ground repeatedly.”

It’s true, she really wasn’t. She wouldn’t say she liked seeing Sukuna repeatedly brutalize the other curse until it could just barely slip into a drainage duct and run away, but it had been rather satisfying. The thought that that pathetic creature would just play with Yoshino-san’s life like that… Yoshino Nagi was a good person, and that disgusting vermin wasn’t even worth the same air she breathed. Sukuna all but purrs at her anger, encouraging it. Surprisingly, he feels the same. It’s a bit more black and white to him though. Yoshino had amused him: more importantly, she’d fed him delicious food. This curse, Mahito, had insulted him and hadn’t taken him seriously. Ergo, Mahito wasn’t worth even a hair on Yoshino’s head.

“We still didn’t hear how he found your finger.”

Sukuna just shrugs. “I doubt he knew himself.”

“Then how did he get it?”

“He mentioned a group he worked with,” Sukuna points out. “It’s unlikely he’s the mastermind behind it all.”

Yeah, Yuuki can agree with that. That curse hadn’t exactly seemed… all that intelligent, despite the ability to speak. Any creature that low and unworthy would have known to bow down to Sukuna’s might immediately if it had any speck of intelligence. Sukuna heartily agrees. Yuuki rolls her eyes internally. She hadn’t meant that as a compliment… it was just common sense.

☆

She’s wary and worried after that.

There are definitely forces at work here, and she feels left in the dark.

She wants to dive in and investigate, but Sukuna holds her off. He points out, logically, that Jujutsu Society in whatever form its currently in likely already knows of what’s going on, if they sent sorcerers to chase after his finger that first time. If someone is collecting his fingers, surely someone in their lot must be aware of it.

It’s not their problem, he insists. If someone wants to gather up his fingers in a neat little pile ripe for the taking, they’re free to do so.

Sukuna’s dismissive attitude on the whole matter does nothing to allay Yuuki’s fears.

For all that Yuuki and Sukuna get along like a pair of surly siblings who hate each other but are at least capable of being lowkey about it, she knows she can’t delude herself into thinking they actually share anything. Sukuna has proven himself to be a cruel, self-absorbed, uncaring monster on many occasions. But he also has a capricious and indulgent side, if you’re subtle enough to slip through his arrogant, prideful shell.

Takada had managed it just by literally being herself, somehow. For whatever reason, she’d interested Sukuna, and now he considers her a possession of sorts. For now, it’s working out, but Yuuki shudders to think what would happen if Takada got a boyfriend or something. Sukuna might just eviscerate the poor guy for daring to place a hand on her, even though he doesn’t seem all that interested in laying a hand on her himself. He likes Takada like he likes all rare and beautiful things; something to be hoarded.

As for Yuuki… well, she’s not sure where she falls on this scale.

She is automatically considered ‘Sukuna’s, just by being his vessel. In many ways, she’s ‘his human’. Sure, she pisses him off— sometimes intentionally— but she also provides him with endless entertainment and intrigue. She’s probably more than just a mere possession, but not something he holds in particularly high regard. Perhaps… a pet?

She supposes she could just ask him.

She chews on her bottom lip as she rolls the idea in her head, sprawled out on her dorm bed in the direction of her little monitor screen. Sukuna is distracted enough not to notice her indecisiveness— he can’t read her thoughts persay, but he can usually pick up on intense emotions and vice versa. Right now though, there’s probably nothing on this earth, come hell or high water, that could pull him away from Planet Earth. It’s his favorite thing to watch, and frankly she applauds his taste. She’s not sure what it is— the thrill of the chase scenes, the savageness of nature in its true element?— that captivates him. Or maybe it’s not any of that, she thinks, as the scene switches to a few swooping panoramas and his attention is just as fixated on that as he was on the hunt before it. Maybe it’s the idea of all these incredible places suddenly being accessible to him, even if it’s only on the screen.

“I’ve always wanted to go there.” She says suddenly, popping a chip in her mouth. For good measure, she tosses one into his too. He likes the honey barbecue flavor.

“Where is it?”

“The Serengeti?” She frowns, brow furrowing. “Uh, I know it’s in Africa.” They’ve at least covered modern geography enough for him to know where that is on the map. “I think it’s somewhere in the middle of it?”

“Why don’t you just go?”

“It’s sooo far,” she complains, crunching into another chip. “It’s literally on the other side of the world.”

“Can’t you just take an airplane?”

She’s surprised he’s so interested in this. “Well, sure. But it would still take a while. And you’d need lodging and transportation… plus they speak a different language there, and the time zones are different. It’s not that easy. You’d have to stay for a really long time— like a month or so. It’s hard to get that kind of time off these days.”

Sukuna just makes a noncommittal noise. He doesn’t really understand the concept of gainful employment, so the idea that she can’t just take off and do what she wants at any given moment is probably something of a mystery to him.

She flops onto her back, peering upside down at the screen. “Let’s go.” She finds herself saying. He stirs in her mind, curious. “Not right now. But one day. With Taka-chan. I bet if we film there and stuff we can call it a business trip and have management pay for it all.”

They’d have to get crazy famous for their management to even consider it, but who knows. At this point she probably has enough money to go regardless, if she ever manages to get that much time off.

They both quietly watch the rest of the scene on the animals of the Serengeti. It’s not until they’ve gotten to the next episode that Yuuki finally decides she may as well just ask the question she’s thinking of. She rolls back onto her stomach, tugging a pillow under her chin.

“Hey, Sukuna.”

“What.” He responds, sounding as grouchy as ever.

“What do you think of me?”

She can feel his confusion. He doesn’t know how to approach the question. He isn’t even sure what she’s asking. She decides to try another tactic.

“Have you ever owned a pet before?”

“...What sort of nonsensical bullshit is this?”

Yeah, okay, that didn’t work.

“You’re an obnoxious human I’m forced to put up with temporarily.” He makes sure to emphasize the ‘temporarily’. Yuuki doesn’t roll her eyes, but it’s a near thing. Yeah right. He’s never getting her body.

“And no, you are not any kind of pet.” He continues, sounding annoyed. “Pets actually manage to follow instructions.”

She shrugs. Fair enough.

He grumbles, shifting around on his throne. “As far as humans go, I suppose you’re not the worst of them.”

She perks up at that. “Really?”

It’s not much, but it’s something.

“You’re disrespectful, disobedient, unruly, and have awful taste in clothing.”

She nearly jumps up in outrage at that last one. Rude! She has great taste in clothing.

“But, it could be worse. At the very least, you’re not boring.” He says, like that’s supposed to mean something.

Yuuki blinks. She settles back onto her pillow.

It might not seem like he’s said anything profound, but he actually kind of has. He promptly ignores her and turns back to the mountainous regions of Tibet. Yuuki supposes he has the right of it, and drops the conversation to focus on the film.

She can clearly remember his thoughts on that strange curse that almost killed Yoshino-san. His reasonings, so bizarre yet so clear cut. Yoshino-san cooked him food. She was useful to him, in some manner. Not only that, but she managed to wiggle into his indulgent side by appealing to his palette. He definitely didn’t like her, but she had use. Yuuki is the same. She’s his vessel, his medium to the outer world. And she entertains him; she satiates his curiosity, and she never bores him. Sukuna said himself that he’s a creature who only cares for himself; his own pleasures. Whether someone lives or dies in his world is entirely based on this singularity.

Putting it this way… being someone who catches his interest is probably the highest form of favor one can get with Sukuna.

She shrugs. Okay. She’ll take that.

Chapter Text

☆ TOKIMEKI NO DOUKASEN ☆

ときめきの導火線

Things come to a head on Halloween. 

They're just finishing up recording a radio show in Shibuya when something goes very, very wrong.

Maya laughs at her and adjusts the bunny ears on her head. “Inoue-san is right, Yuu-chan. You’re no good at party games like this.”

Looking up at her groupmate through a curtain of sopping wet hair, Yuuki pouts and spits out her apple. The entire radio station laughs at her pitiful expression. Her fellow apple-bobber, Chisato, is giving her that gleeful look as she daintily hides her vicious grin behind a hand. 

“I can’t believe I lost every single one.” Yuuki complains. “I always win at games!”

“Even the Master of Game Shows has to be bad at something,” Takada teases, leaning down to help her brush her hair out of her face. 

Of all the silly Halloween games to play for their radio service, why did they have to do apple bobbing? Yuuki pinches a lock of pink hair, eying it critically. It took the hair and makeup department ages to do her costume— now it’s all gone to waste! She grabs her cat ear headband off the ground beside her with a huff, and moves to place it back on her head. Before she can though, Takada scoops up two handfuls of her messy pink curls and artfully manages to loop them into two very cute looking buns. 

“Taka-chan~ you’re the best.” She cries happily, patting her new hairstyle down. 

“I don’t know what you’d do without me,” their group leader returns with a fond sigh. “Here, look up for a second, your makeup is running.”

Yuuki frowns but does as she asks, feeling a thumb swipe beneath her lashes, where her mascara is likely running.

Takada clicks her tongue. “Your concealer came off,” she notices, voice pitched low. At the microphones, Maya and Chisato are chatting with their radio host, providing a low background noise. “Honestly, what are they thinking, making you do that? Apple bobbing of all things… you’re an idol! They can’t just ruin your makeup like this!”

Yuuki just laughs sheepishly. “I probably shouldn’t have been the one to volunteer.” She readily admits. But she’d lost at pin the tail on the donkey, and she really wanted a redemption round! Yuuki wasn’t used to losing! 

“Why must you be so competitive?” Taka-chan shakes her head. “Come on, up you go. I think I have some concealer you can use in my bag. We can put it on during the next break.”

Yuuki wipes shyly at the markings beneath her cheeks, nodding as she stands and follows Takada back to the tables. It’s not that she regrets eating Sukuna’s finger, lending her body to the King of Curses and subsequently saving Takada-chan and herself from an unfortunate end, but the marks are something of an insecurity for her. After all, they’re literally marks, on her face. An idol’s face is supposed to be flawless! Fortunately their management just assumed they were scars from the Tokyo Dome incident, and not, you know, possession marks of a cursed spirit. 

Halfway through their next program, the cursed spirit in question breaks out of his self-imposed exile and rises to consciousness. (He’d taken one look at her Halloween costume and deemed it ‘appalling and absurd’ and had promptly buried himself in his own domain.) 

Sukuna stirs in her mind. “Oi, wench.”

“Yeah, I felt it.” Yuuki swallows thickly. 

It felt like pressure, like that moment before your ears pop. Something swelling up from below, intangible but present.

Around her, Takada has just finished telling a popular story, and she does her best to laugh along with the others. 

“You need to get out of here.” Sukuna says. “A powerful barrier just went up.”

“Where?”

“Everywhere.”

“Seriously, Sukuna!”

“It’s a much wider net than usual. Probably the whole… what did you call it? Station?”

“Metro station?” Yuuki gapes. “The whole of the Shibuya metro area?” 

That’s huge! 

And on Halloween night? One of the busiest times of the year? The amount of people that must be stuck in here…

“What kind of barrier?” Yuuki doesn’t really pay that much attention to most of Sukuna’s ramblings, but he’s at least mentioned barriers before. 

Sukuna scoffs. “Nothing that could stop me.” He dismisses, which is great and all, but Yuuki’s not exactly worried about them here.

Her gaze slides to Takada,who doesn’t look like she’s feeling all that well herself. 

“Yuu-chan…” She whispers.

Yuuki nods. “Yeah. Something bad is definitely happening here.” 

Takada hasn’t visibly seen any curses since that night they both almost died, but she’s developed something of a sixth sense for them. She knows instinctively when she should take the stairs instead of an elevator; when she should avoid one street but not the other. So she nods at Yuuki’s confirmation. She grips Yuuki’s hand beneath the table; Yuuki sends her what she hopes is a reassuring smile.

“Nevermind me, Sukuna! What about Taka-chan!”

Is it a low blow to drag his best girl into this? Probably. Does it work? Yes. 

The lights in the studio flicker ominously. A couple staff members leap to their feet, as shouts echo down the halls. Their radio host cuts off mid sentence, looking around him at the equipment that’s sort of fizzling out. 

Maya whimpers. “It’s a g— ghost!” 

“Of course not, don’t be silly!” Takada waves her off with a wide, easy smile. “Maybe the generator is having issues?” 

Chisato looks down at her phone, a deep frown spreading over her face. “That’s odd… I just had perfect service a moment ago…”

Yuuki looks down at her own phone and sees the ominous cancel button where she had four bars earlier. Definitely a barrier. But who put it up? A Jujutsu Sorcerer? Are they exorcising something here in Shibuya? What could possibly need such a large barrier though?

“This is the work of a curse.” Sukuna shoots that down in flames. “They’re after something.”

Yuuki sits up straighter, alarmed. “After what? You?”

“Unlikely,” he dismisses. 

Yuuki isn’t sure whether she’s relieved by that answer or not. 

Around them, the studio staff is murmuring with increasing panic. Someone is hollering about calling the police— the other is talking about the energy company. Yuuki and Takada exchange a glance. They both know this isn’t just an ordinary power outage. They both also know there’s very little the police or the first responders will be able to do to help them. 

“The cursed energy is strongest below,” Sukuna informs her.

“Below? You mean a lower floor?”

“Below the ground.”

Yuuki blinks, then it dawns on her. Below the building? The subway station. Whatever’s going on, it must be originating from there. 

She shoots a worried glance to the people around her, biting her lip. She feels torn. On the one hand, she doesn’t want to leave Takada, Chisato and Maya all alone. But if something bad is happening down there… can she really just sit here and do nothing.

“You’re most certainly not just going to sit here.” Sukuna retorts, hotly. “If these curse users are who I think they are, then there’s a good chance my fingers are nearby.”

“Wouldn’t you be able to sense them, if so?” 

“Not necessarily.”

Takada tugs on her sleeve. “Yuu-chan,” she leans closer. “What’s going on?”

Yuuki just shakes her head. “I’m not entirely sure yet.”

Her brow furrows, and she fixes a wide, golden doe-eyed look straight at her. Somewhere in her subconscious, Yuuki definitely hears a zing! as it goes straight into the black steel death strap Sukuna calls a heart. “Did Sukuna-sama say anything?” She asks in a low, pleading tone. 

Taka-chan… you are the master. Yuuki thinks, dazed. She wishes she had half the other girl’s powers of manipulation. 

“You need to get them out of the barrier first.” Sukuna advises, sounding rather urgent about it. 

She’d tease him for being such a simp for Taka-chan, but this doesn’t quite feel like the appropriate time to joke. Something ominous is brewing in the air, and even those without cursed energy can tell. 

Yuuki takes a deep breath. “He says you guys need to get out of here, right away. Can you make that happen?”

“I can make our excuses.” Takada nods, seriously. 

“Good. Then let's get out of here.” 

☆

Delivering Takada and the others to the other side of the barrier is easier said than done. 

For whatever reason, despite the increasing pandemonium within the barrier, she hasn’t seen any Jujutsu Sorcerers. What are they doing? Surely they’re not unaware of the worsening situation right smack in the middle of Tokyo!

At first, when they spill out of the building into the streets, it seems like the calm before the storm. People are milling around, confused in some instances, annoyed in others, but no one’s outright panicking yet. There are crowds gathered around a seemingly arbitrary spot in the road, where she presumes the barrier must be keeping people in. 

“It seems to be a barrier only for the non-curse using humans,” Sukuna muses, sounding intrigued. 

Yuuki nervously bites her lip. “What should I do then? Can I get them out still?”

“It’s possible, but you’ll have to use my powers to do it.”

Sounds like a risky gamble, but one she’ll have to take. Using Sukuna’s cursed energy is akin to launching a firework into the air, apparently. Bound to attract attention of any other curses and curse-users in the general vicinity. But if the alternative is to let her friends stay here and possibly get caught in the cross fire...

Well, that’s no alternative at all.

“Come on guys, let’s go.” She tugs Takada’s hand, setting off a chain reaction as Takada tugs Chisato, and Chisato tugs Maya. 

They don’t even stick out all that much despite being idols in a crowd, what with everyone else dressed in elaborate costumes as well. She wedges her way through the throngs of people, their density only increasing the farther they get from the center of Shibuya. Finally she squeezes past a brazenly drunk Mario and finds she’s the only one who can go any farther.

“Ouch!” Takada protests, as she’s squished against an invisible barrier. 

This must be it, Yuuki thinks, backing up to place a hand right up against where Takada’s is resting against an invisible wall. 

“What do I do now?”

“Just leave it up to me.”

☆

Megumi frowns into his binoculars, watching a bottleneck suddenly appear between two buildings adjacent the metro station. The previously calm but nervous crowd turns into a neurotic frenzy as everyone launches themselves in that direction.

“There’s an opening,” he says, surprised.

“Whaaat? No way!” Takuma denies loudly, hip checking Megumi so he can swipe the binoculars out of his hand. 

Nanami pushes up his glasses. “You felt that, didn’t you, Fushiguro-kun.”

Megumi nods, solemnly. “A burst of curse energy right before a hole was punctured in the barrier.” 

“And not normal curse energy, either.” Namami agrees. 

“Do you think this is part of the plan?” Megumi asks, wearily.

“Hard to say.” Nanami returns. “We don’t know enough about the group responsible to say for sure. If it is a part of their plan, how could this help them?”

Megumi shifts his weight back and forth, contemplative. Takuma has started to loudly guffaw about a cute girl in the crowd, but they both ignore that on principal. 

“Could it have been Gojo?” Megumi tosses out, at a loss. 

Usually breaking a barrier in such a manner is impossible, but Gojo-sensei often pulls off impossible feats regularly, so he wouldn’t put it past him.

But Nanami shakes his head. “It didn’t feel like his curse energy. It— 

They both pause, as the ground shudders beneath them, and people start screaming. 

“That was Gojo.” Nanami ends, sighing. 

☆

Of all the possible scenarios, Sukuna could have never guessed this.

Two little human curse users stand before him, with heads bowed. They both attempt to look differential, but fail miserably. They are too eager, shifting their weight between their feet and fidgeting with their hands, darting quick looks up to him before looking back down at his feet. 

Annoying.

Still, they— unfathomably— carried between them a sealed scroll with ten of his fingers. Ten. 

At the rate Yuuki was going, it would have taken him nearly an entire year to get to that number. And now here he is, surging with power, more than halfway to his goal. 

All because these two—

Want something from him.

He narrows his eyes, displeased. “What is it? Stop with the fidgeting and speak.”

“S— Sukuna-sama,” the blonde one stutters, jumping to attention. “We— we felt your presence, earlier.”

The black-haired one nods eagerly, adding; “Here in Shibuya, but also months ago!”

“We knew you would come!” The blonde nods as well.

Sukuna just blinks slowly at them. “And?”

“And we— we wanted to offer these fingers to you…” The blonde continues, voice hesitant. She seems to finally gather her courage, bowing deeply. “And we wanted to ask a favor of you!”

Sukuna could have laughed at such brash impertinence. Ask him, a favor? Just for collecting some fingers he would have gotten one way or another? 

“Down below… there’s a man wearing a priest’s robe with stitches on his forehead. Please… kill him!”

The dark-haired one peers up at him from beneath her bangs. “P— Please… please free our Geto-sama!” 

The silence is damning.

Nanako is fairly certain this is how they meet their end; attempting to bargain with the King. 

She's right.

He lets out a terrible, shrill laugh. “You think you can order me around? You’re not even cute.” 

If he was feeling magnanimous, he might have just knocked them out. They’ve done him a favor, no matter how self-serving they intended it to be. Yuuki would probably tell him to just leave them be. What could they do anyway? They’re just little girls. But Yuuki is silent— too silent— lost in a tidal wave of his own surging curse power. And Yuuki is quiet, because of them. Yuuki is never quiet. She’s annoying and loud and she rarely makes any sense, and she laughs at things he doesn’t intend to be funny and smiles at him even when he’s trying to make her cry.

He severs their heads clean from their bodies. 

Then he turns to the simpering curse next to the blood smears on the ground, who at last has seemed to learn his place. He’s low on his knees, carefully not looking in Sukuna’s direction.

“Cursed spirit, you’re next.” He drawls. “What do you want?”

His single, beady eye jumps to him, before darting away. “N— Nothing.” 

He smirks. Good answer.

He wonders what’s going on with this group of curses. The two girls appeared to be acting of their own volition, stealing the fingers and running to find him after sensing his presence when he pried a hole in the barrier. When they finally caught up to him, just as he was descending into the underground, they caught him mid argument with Yuuki (about whether or not to just let all the humans around them die as collateral, predictably) when his guard was down. Yuuki tended to do that to him; distracting him, calling all of his attention, drawing all his focus and his interest onto herself by mere presence alone. He normally indulges her, even though he knows he shouldn’t. 

Things would have gone differently, if he had stuck true to his convictions.

Everything would have gone differently. 

These two girls wouldn’t have managed to sneak up on him and his host long enough to get behind her and knock her in the back of the head with a two by four. Sukuna wouldn’t have wasted precious moments being vulnerable as he rushed to use his reverse-curse techniques to heal the lethal damage to her brain as quickly as possible. 

Sukuna wouldn’t even be in this position, at all, because he wouldn’t have cared.

He stares down at his own hands, ringed with his markings around the wrists. They’re his, but they’re hers, too. Long and thin and dainty, so soft and smooth and well-maintained. Little jewels sparkle on her long, perfectly trimmed nails, colored pink and white— her colors. Blood from the now healed wound on his forehead drips down his face, splattering in the palm of her hand. 

"Oi. Wench. Wake up."

There's no response. His inner mind is empty save for skulls and dull water.

"Brat."

His shrine looms before him, no pink hair in sight. She's not here. He can't feel her anywhere.

"Yuuki!"

“But… Sukuna-sama…”

He raises a brow, lowering his hands.

“Now that you are free of your vessel… make a binding vow to rid yourself of them permanently!”

“Rid myself…?” He echoes, voice distant.

The volcano curse nods eagerly. “There are many humans here, if you need to use leverage. Tens of thousands trapped below.” 

He wonders, vaguely, just who in the fucking hell this worthless bastard thinks he is. Just what he thinks is going on here; just what situation he’s in. Those two girls had found him and forced ten of his fingers down Yuuki’s unconscious throat, against the wishes of this special grade curse, who chased after them and had nearly fried them by the time he woke up. Did he think that meant anything, being special grade? When he was in the presence of the King of Curses himself? 

There’s a long moment of damning silence.

Then Sukuna laughs. 

It’s a chilling, haunting sound. 

“You pathetic worm… you think to tell me what I should do?” He laughs harder, nearly shrieking now. “As if you could possibly know what I want?”

When you have taken what I want away from me?

The curse begins to backtrack immediately. “N— No Sukuna-sama! I didn’t, I didn’t mean to imply… I would never be so bold to assume— 

“What nerve! What insolence! Tell me your name, curse; I might even remember it once I kill you.”

“This one’s name is Jogo, Sukuna-sama,” he yelps out. “Please, I beg for your forgiveness, I didn’t intend to presume. I apologize for my grievous offense.”

At least this one seems to know how to grovel properly. And beg for his life. But it’s like a drop of water on a kerosene fire; nothing but further fuel for his own endless rage. 

“Ah? And what did you intend, then?”

Jogo’s shoulders slump a bit, as if he feels he’s successfully made it into the clear. As if he thinks he’s escaped the worst of the King of Curses’s ire. How quaint. How naive. To think that his cold, impassive exterior was an indication of inner calm— that it wasn’t just a thin veneer of ice over an incandescent fury ready to bring the whole world to its knees. 

“We wanted… the resurrection of the King of Curses.” He explains, slowly. “Our goal is to— .”

A slow, luxurious smirk spreads widely over the King of Curses’s charmingly youthful face as he cuts him off mid sentence. “Nevermind, how about I make you a deal, Jogo? If you can land a single hit on me, then I’ll promise to hear about this goal of yours.” 

Despite himself, Jogo feels his curse energy rise at the challenge. 

Finally— a chance to prove his own worth!

☆

Jogo had known, the moment he’d locked eyes with the fearsome King of Curses, that his death was near. He seemed so calm on the surface, perhaps even serene; but it was all a ruse. Underneath it was a burning simmering rage— and all of it directed at Jogo.

Even on his deathbed, city destroyed around him, Jogo isn’t entirely sure what he did wrong. Oh, he knows fighting Sukuna was a fool’s folly, even if he only needed a single hit. 

“How many of Sukuna’s fingers do you think I rank right now?”

“Being generous? Maybe eight or nine.”

It’s hard to say how many fingers Sukuna had previously to the ten he’d just ingested, courtesy of those conniving, back-stabbing human brats, but either way to even think them in the same league was pointless. The King of Curses… was superior in every way. Not just in terms of pure power, although that was indeed true; everything about him was on another level. His speed, his reaction time, his abilities, his awareness, his execution of his techniques— and yes, the sheer horrifying amount of cursed energy he held at his fingertips. 

He was on a level beyond anything else in the world. 

Just like that bastard Gojo.

“Ah, Yuuki, Yuuki… what should I do? Do I put him out of his misery? Do I torture him more? Pity I killed those girls off so quickly… they deserved it far more.”

Jogo opens his single eye, vision near burned into nonexistence. All he can see is the King of Curses standing before him, not a scratch on his person. 

Yuuki? Who is Yuuki?

The King of Curses lets out a frightening laugh. 

“You’re right, of course,” he says, sagely.

Who the hell is he talking to? Jogo’s eye slowly closes shut. Has it been twenty minutes? Did Hanami, Mahito and Chouso manage to hold out against the Six Eyes? 

“I can’t let him live. Not with that hideous outfit.”

I suppose I’ll never know, he thinks, just as Sukuna splits his head open. 

And what does it matter, anyway? All their plans hinged on sealing Gojo Satoru, and finding Sukuna’s vessel and enticing him to their side. To fail at one is to fail at them both. 

☆

Sukuna stares down at the unrecognizable, charred crisp of a curse beneath his feet, and feels as if not a single ounce of his rage has been quenched. 

He doesn’t know how long he toyed with that special-grade— a minute? A few minutes?— he managed to cause plenty of destruction along the way, and yet Yuuki didn’t yell at him at all. She hasn’t said anything. Not when he killed those girls, when he blew up half a building, when he burned this curse alive. 

“Hey, Yuuki,” he says aloud, into the disturbing silence. He looks up at the dark night sky. “What should I do now? Should I go and kill them all?” 

That fire-using curse mentioned a ‘group’ of them. Probably the ones he could sense below the ground. They were still fighting frantically, furiously. 

Yuuki doesn’t answer him.

That’s answer enough. 

☆

Sukuna thinks he’ll just drag it out; he’ll make it painful, just to get some of this anger out of his system. Maybe he’ll even use his reverse-curse technique to heal them, just to eviscerate them all over again. He could do it endlessly. Maybe, eventually, he’ll finally stop and listen to whatever pitiful plan they think they have. Then he’ll laugh and kill them all over again.

The bowels of the station are a fucking nightmare. Just the scene he loves to relish in. But without Yuuki’s horrified commentary in the background, the luster is tarnished. It’s just Sukuna, alone with his thoughts. 

The Prison Realm?

He blinks, surprised to see that disgusting thing again after all these centuries. It opens its sticky maws to clasp around a man with a shock of white hair— a Jujutsu Sorcerer, from the look of him.

Using the crowds, he manages to sneak forward towards the commotion. None of the non-curse users around him can see it, but they at least have the sense to give a wide berth around it. 

Sukuna casually leans next to a man in a Chewbacca outfit, watching the scene play out with keen interest.

His brows raise as he recognizes the man in the priests’s robes the two girls were talking about earlier, the one with the stitches on his face. His brows raise further when the man lifts open the top of his head to reveal a smugly smirking brain underneath.

Ah, so that’s how it is.

“Hey kid,” a man dressed as Han Solo leans over Chewbacca to peer at Sukuna. “You lost? Where’re your parents? It’s a fuckin’ mess down here, you don’t want to get caught up in it.”

“Shh, not now,” Sukuna dismisses him. “I’m watching something interesting.”

Han Solo blinks at him. “Say what now?”

“—Y’know, Satoru, you’re only considerate during such awkward moments.” The monk is in the middle of saying, as he puts the top of his head back on. “Thanks to that, I was able to obtain this body without much trouble.” 

In his head, he can almost hear Yuuki crying out in glee; “Oh my god Sukuna look! It’s a body snatcher! A real life body snatcher!”

The thought is enough for his brief light mood to plummet once more. The slight smile of amusement on his face falls back into a stoic frown. He nudges Chewbacca. “Hey, Chewbacca, you ever watch Invasion of the Body Snatchers?”  

Yuuki had called it ‘a genius sci-fi classic’, whatever the hell that was supposed to mean, and had put it on their list of horror-flicks to watch when they had down time. They had a whole list of just general films to watch, and also a special one just for that particular genre. Apparently, Yuuki was thoroughly entertained by his commentary on gore and horror; he was far too realistic and way too condemning of all the characters, she said. It’s not his fault human filmmakers don’t understand the nuance of artful blood spray and suspenseful timing.

Han Solo and Chewbacca exchange a glance. “Uh, yeah?” The man in the Chewbacca suit says. 

“Was it any good?” He asks, idly. 

He wonders about this particular body snatcher, though. Something about that cursed energy is oddly, annoyingly, familiar. 

“Uhhh, yeah,” Han Solo drawls. “It’s a fucking classic. If you haven't seen it, I definitely recommend."

"It’s a must for the genre." Chewbacca nods sagely.

“Huh.” 

Sukuna narrows his eyes at the smirking brain. 

I wonder… 

Han Solo’s brows furrow. “Seriously kid, you got friends around or somethin’? You really shouldn’t— 

“You’re boring me now.” Sukuna cuts him off. 

For their wise words of wisdom, he only knocks them out instead of beheading them. 

☆

“But, don’t worry. The seal will be over soon enough.” The monk laughs as he tugs his stitches shut. “In a hundred… no, maybe a thousand years.”

The incandescent fury in Gojo Satoru’s eyes is something he’ll relish for the rest of his days, Geto is sure. To finally manage to bring the strongest Jujutsu Sorcerer to his knees, to watch a plan unfold so beautifully…  ah, there’s truly no greater feeling.

“You know, you’re just too strong,” he continues cheerfully, to his captive audience. 

He adjusts the bun in his hair, stretching his arms with a sigh of relief. “You’re in the way of my plans, y’know?”

He’d say it was nothing personal— but it was. It really was. 

But when he opens his eyes again, it’s not to the intoxicating sight of the strongest shaman on his knees. 

Well no, that’s not entirely true. Gojo Satoru is still there, bound and sealed by the tendons of the prison realm… but he’s not alone.

Geto blinks once, then twice. The illusion is still there.

A little girl with twin buns of pink hair and cat ears has her chin propped on Gojo’s shoulder, staring at Geto with a bored expression. At first glance, she looks like a regular teenage girl— perhaps taller than usual, but with a cute and youthful face. Locks of sakura-petal pink hair fall out in disarray, framing her heart-shaped face. Her glossy bow lips are curled into a facsimile imitation of a smile. 

She’d look entirely normal, if one discounted the four eyes and black markings. 

He rears back in surprise. 

“Ryomen Sukuna!” He calls, his expression of shock dawning into one of delight. 

Gojo stiffens in shock. Geto could almost cackle in glee at this expression! How it must rankle him, to have no cursed energy like this. To be snuck up on by the King of Curses himself! Oh, the irony of the Six Eyes being caught unawares! Geto couldn’t have planned this better if he tried! 

“I thought I had felt your presence earlier.” He continues, dipping his head. “Did Jogo run into you earlier? I hope you enjoyed our gift.”

Sukuna peers out at him through lazy golden eyes. “Hmm, volcano head?” His eyes lower. “I might’ve. He said you had an offer for me.”

“Yes, I do.” The dark-haired man smiles so fully his eyes wrinkle up. “I’d love it if you joined us— I think you’ll find what we have in store for this world very interesting.” 

The King of Curses’ lazy demeanor falls at that; two red eyes emerge from beneath his glowing gold ones, searing crimson.

“You intend to entice me to join you…” He drawls, bored. “And yet all of you, collectively, cannot best a single Jujutsu Sorcerer with your own power? Pathetic.” 

Geto’s passive smile is not quite as wide as it had been earlier. “He’s not just any old sorcerer, you know.” 

Sukuna raises a manicured pink brow. “Is that so?” He tilts his chin, so he can lock eyes with a startled Gojo. Those perfect lips curl into a wide smirk. “I see now. A Six Eyes user. That’s unusual.”

“Unusual is putting it mildly,” Geto replies, serenely. 

Sukuna pushes off his current head rest, sauntering forward. “Still, it’s rather pitiful, isn’t it? All of this, and you couldn’t even manage to get a single scratch on him.”

“He’s caught now, isn’t he?”

“By some paltry parlor trick.” Sukuna leans forward, using Gojo as an armrest to cradle his cheek against his hand. “What interest would I have in aligning myself with a bunch of weaklings?”

The priest raises a hand in a placating gesture. “Well we can’t all be the King of Curses, now can we?”

Sukuna makes a noncommittal noise. “I would have expected better from a group of not one, but four special grade curses, no?”

Sukuna pauses, raising a perfectly manicured finger to his face. He taps his lips. “Ah, but I suppose it’s only three of you now— “ He snaps his finger. “Wait, two— since I killed Jogo.”

The man in the monk robes doesn’t look at all amused anymore. Sukuna grins widely. Good. Because Sukuna’s done playing around. 

He spreads his hands magnanimously. “I’ll give you the same deal I offered him. If you can manage to hit me once, I’ll listen to what you have to say— and maybe I’ll even agree to think about it.”

Geto narrows his eyes. 

☆

Geto, he notices,— or rather, the cursed brain using Geto’s body— doesn’t even bother to fight. He’s unlikely to be much of a close range fighter, given his curse technique. Plus, he’s likely trying not to injure his current body unduly. That and anyone would be idiotic to just challenge the King of Curses himself like this, without any ace up their sleeve. Except Satoru. He'd totally be idiotic enough to do it, and he says that with pride! 

A minute passes. Maybe two. He wonders if either of them intend to move, and if so, which will move first. 

He wishes he could turn his head to see Sukuna, get a better read on the situation. As it is, he’s still stuck like a trussed up pig for slaughter, sans cursed energy. Man, this fucking blows. It burns his pride to get stuck like this, even though he can admit he was outplayed. This bastard using Geto’s body… whoever the fuck he is… he knows what he’s doing. Satoru won’t make the mistake of underestimating him again. 

“What’s this? You won’t even try?” Sukuna drawls, and Satoru can hear the pop of joints, like he’s stretching his arms or something. Cracking his knuckles? Damn, he wishes he could move his head, at the very least here. But he can only stare straight ahead, and try to glean what he can from the body of his former friend. 

Geto says nothing, face impassive. Probably trying to see how he can swing this curveball his way. Frankly, Satoru’s sweating over it a little bit too here. He’s helpless, which has literally never happened to him since the day he was born. And never again, he swears, if he finds a way to get out of here. Finding Sukuna here and now, of all fucking times and places, after searching for him for months is still throwing him for a loop. He'd love to find a way to turn this situation to his favor, but it's so unrealistic he doesn't bother to try. The least he can hope for is an outcome that ends with these two duking it out and one of his fellow Sorcerers managing to whisk him away in the midst of the chaos. Preferably before he gets legit sealed in this thing. 

Another few long, tense seconds.

Finally, Sukuna sighs. 

“Unbelievable,” there’s a tone of complaint in his voice, something oddly childish. Almost… girlish? Maybe? Weird. 

“Not only are you weak… you’re boring me too.”

Satoru expects— he doesn’t know what he expects. 

Sukuna to attack the other curse, he supposes. Because it looks as if Gojo’s body snatcher has done a surprisingly good job of crowning himself ‘the one who’s pissed the King of Curses off the most’. Satoru kinda would’ve liked to take that title for himself, but he supposes he’ll cut his losses here. 

Especially when he ends up free as a consolation prize. 

Geto is so shocked he actually chokes.

Satoru can’t actually blame him. He’s pretty shocked himself. The bindings around him splinter apart.

Geto turns furious eyes towards Sukuna. “You— 

“If you’re not going to entertain me, I’ll just have to make something interesting, right?”

Satoru whirls around, Six Eyes activated once again. God, it feels like having all his limbs severed only to have them put back in place again. It feels like reversing a stab through the throat— like cheating death, again. He loves it. 

“Have fun, Six Eyes,” Sukuna drawls. “He’s all yours.” 

☆

These curses think they're so impressive, so special, so different. It disgusts him. He hates weaklings who think they have any semblance of power. That monk looking one in particular truly galled him. He was so smug and satisfied with himself for catching that sorcerer— even though it was so evident he was outclassed. Sure that Six Eyes user shouldn't have been so idiotic as to get caught, but he was obviously the better of the two. And yet, that curse wanted to gloat in his own glory, when there was nothing to be proud of? And if his suspicions surrounding that brain are true, that’s even more pathetic. 

Disgusting. He hopes that shaman tears him limb from limb, slowly.

Truth be told, Sukuna has no real reason to hunt down each of these high level curses one by one and flay them alive— but he wasn’t lying when he told that monk guy earlier that he was bored. Bored, and angry. A dangerous combination for the King of Curses. 

Yuuki’s not here (might never be here again for all he knows, but he refuses to think that) and everyone else in this world is so mind-numbingly pathetic. To be the strongest, to eradicate all humans, to usher in a new era of curses— who care about all of that? Sukuna lives for himself, his own pleasures, his own desires. Anything else is just a waste. 

“If you’re bored, just make your own fun,” is what Yuuki would say.

He supposes he’s taken that particular lesson to heart. If he wants to be entertained, he might as well cause as much chaos as possible. 

He’s certain that’s not at all what Yuuki intended when she said that— he’s fairly sure she was referring to stupid car ride games she and her groupmates played, like guessing animals or the letters of passing license plates— but again, Yuuki is not here to shout at him and tell him otherwise. 

He’s just contemplating lighting this whole station on fire with everyone in it, when something— or someone— answers his prayers. 

A special grade curse is fighting off against a bunch of Jujutsu Sorcerers as he turns the corner. He makes himself comfortable atop a nearby broken pillar to watch the spectacle; maybe a good fight will cheer him up. 

There’s a strange girl with almost no cursed energy, an old man, and a guy with glasses. He glances over them each one at a time before dismissing them as disinteresting. 

That last boy, though… He looks somewhat familiar. 

Sukuna sits up a bit straighter.

A shikigami user?

They work well together as a team. The special grade curse is strong, but still a newborn. Still, it’s learning fast, and it seems to be unraveling their plans faster than they can make them. He watches with intrigue as it unleashes its domain; some sort of beach. It’s innate technique is shikigami based— somewhat unexpected. It makes quick work of most of the humans. Sukuna sighs, leaning back. So much for being entertained…

“Domain Expansion: Chimera Garden!”

He peels an eye open. 

The shikigami user voluntarily entered the domain? And he could pull out curse tools from it. 

And dispelling the sure-hit of the curse’s domain… that was actually quite impressive. This boy was an interesting one. He expanded his own domain, having it counter the curse’s in a tug-of-war battle for dominance. Sukuna finds himself leaning forward in his seat. What an interesting twist! Is this how Yuuki feels whenever she gets all into her ridiculous K-dramas? Now wonder she’s always hooked on them! 

The other three humans emerge out of the curse’s Death Swarm, injured but intact. They rally to defend the shikigami-user, who despite such impressive technique and execution, is evidently flagging. 

Sukuna clicks his tongue. That won’t do. That won’t do at all. 

He’s already lost Yuuki bored enough as it is, to have another interesting human slip from his grasp so soon? 

“Fushiguro!” The blonde man shouts, taking a defensive stance in front of the shikigami user. “I’ll protect you— just concentrate on your domain!”

The shikigami user— Fushiguro— grits his teeth, slumping over a bit. “Nanami!” He calls. The blonde looks back. “That octopus thinks we’re in the midst of a domain battle. But my objective is actually different. I’m trying to open a hole in the domain’s barrier!”

Sukuna raises a brow. Interesting idea— but will he be able to pull it off? 

Damn, but he wished he had one of Yuuki’s endless packets of gummy worms nearby. He wants something to snack on in the heat of the moment.

As if summoned by Sukuna's own ennui, Fushiguro manages to rip open a small tear in the curse’s domain. The humans rally to escape through it— but just at the last second, another human drops through it instead!

If Sukuna had thought there had been a twist before, he was unprepared for the next one! Utterly delighted, he watches as a man with no curse energy to speak of— a feat he hadn’t even known was possible— enters into the fray. He dominates the curse where the other four failed. Even better, four out of the five appear to be related somehow. As Yuuki would say, “Family drama is the juiciest of all the k-dramas.” 

He’d love to stick around to watch it until the climax— will Fushiguro pull out yet another impressive technique from his repertoire to show the King of Curses? Will the new human turn on the others at the last moment?— but alas, he has sensed something that warrants his attention. The rotting sensation of a human’s spiritual core degrading into something unnatural. 

The presence of an insolent, worthless little maggot that should have died long ago. 

There are few things that truly infuriate Sukuna, and having his prey escape from a certain death is at the top of that list. It’s not as if he actually needed a reason to personally eradicate each of these curses by his own hand, but now he most certainly has one.

He takes one last look at the fighting before him, and raises a hand.

As if sensing the otherworldly presence of a far greater evil, the curse stops mid-fight and whips its head to stare right in his direction. Through domains of space and time, their eyes meet. 

Sukuna smirks.

“Cleave.”  

☆

So, the King of Curses saved me, just like a fairytale prince, he can’t help but snicker under his breath, feeling hysterical and wild and every bit alive. 

He makes quick work of the endless transfigured humans and low level curses wandering around the bottom levels of the subway. They’re of no match for the strongest shaman alive; nothing is a match for him, not even these special grades all working together. They had to resort to ‘parlor tricks’ as the King of Curses so adeptly put it. They knew they’d never have a chance fighting him outright, so they had to manipulate and orchestrate this entire fiasco of a night to get to him instead. 

Still, a win is a win, Satoru’s always believed that. If they managed to seal him, then, well, he fucked up. That’s on him.

But if, by some arbitrary hand of fate (or chaos), he managed to escape ensealment? 

That’s fair game, too.

He can’t help but muse on the strange curse, as unoccupied as he is by his current task. 

What an unexpected first meeting. He wasn’t entirely sure what he’d expected from meeting the notorious King of Curses— something a lot like meeting that volcano head, probably. Some fanatical, overly arrogant creature so self-absorbed that it could give even him a run for his money in that department. 

And Sukuna… well, he was definitely arrogant. And self-absorbed. But not nearly as fanatical, or otherwise psychotic as the other special grade curses he’s seen. He’d hate to call him something so pedestrian as normal, but at the very least he was unexpected. 

He clears out the last of the mutilated humans with a loud, exhilarating whoop of joy, startling a nearby Mei. There were less of them then expected, surprisingly. The reports said the crowds numbered in the tens of thousands. 

“Gojo, you’re still alive I see.” She recovers herself well. 

He skids to a halt in front of her, grin wide and just this side of manic. “The— 

“Don’t say it,” she sighs, raising a dainty hand to her forehead. 

“Reports of my death are always exaggerated.” He finishes, with a wink.

Her little brother gives him a grimace of disgust. He pointedly ignores the little twerp. Kid wouldn’t know class if it smacked him in the face, honestly. Look at how they’re both dressed. 

Mei just shakes her head. “You get off on near death experiences, don’t you?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” He laughs loudly. “They’re so rare for me, after all!”

It says a lot that Mei is so used to his unabashed ego that she doesn’t even deign that with a response. God, they really have known each other for that long, haven’t they? Gross.

“Yo, Mei,” he says, adopting a modicum of seriousness now, “if you see a guy that looks like Suguru coming this way? Run.”

“Looks like Geto Suguru?” Mei rears back as if struck. “What?”

“Curse technique.” He shrugs, like that explains everything. “He’s using his body.”

Mei’s upper lip curls in distaste. 

“He managed to get the drop on you, didn’t he.” She deadpans. 

Satoru just pouts. Was it really that obvious? “Oi, I’m alive, aren’t I?”

“Through luck or merit, I wonder?” She counters, drily.

Satoru gives her a salute as he starts to float in the air. “Can’t we just say both?” 

“Luck it is, then!” Mei calls after him, as he floats away. 

His brow twitches. 

She’s right, and it still smarts his pride a little. Just a little. He’s alive, after all, cheating death once again. Hard to complain about that. 

He cracks his knuckles as he uses his Six Eyes to scan the entire area above ground. Shibuya is a fucking mess. Who the hell could have even managed to tear up these buildings like this, if not for him? The answer comes to him almost immediately: Sukuna, of course. He whistles loudly as he surveys the damage. The King of Curses had mentioned earlier that he’d killed off Jogo— evidently it’d been a fight for the ages. Satoru is a bit upset he missed it, but he had been a bit preoccupied with his own lopsided fight. At least he’d managed to kill the tree looking guy. That would have been a serious blow to his pride if he hadn’t managed at least that. 

Still, there’s only so much bruising his massively inflated ego can take in a single night, and he thinks he needs a redemption arc or two. That rat bastard masquerading as Suguru is still around here somewhere, using yet another screen to evade him, this time in the form of a parade of curses. Not enough to really give him trouble, but enough to slow him down for the damned curse to make his escape. No matter, he can’t run from Satoru forever. Not with all six of his eyes focused on finding him.

And, look at that! Like clockwork!

Actually, in this instance it hadn’t been his eyes that found him, but his ears. He hears the thunderous explosion before he sees it; a clout of smoke rising between two crumbling buildings. 

☆

Yuuki, as always, is the poster child for bad timing.

“Sukuna!” She gasps, delighted. “Are you saving a HUMAN?”

Sukuna is so surprised he startles and drops the pathetic blond human he’s holding in one hand face first in the dirt. That’s fine though— if he’d messed up his reverse-curse technique he’s using in the other one, that’d have been far worse. As it is he manages to continue healing Fushiguro even as he tries to squash the surge of unfiltered relief he feels at hearing her voice again. 

He just didn’t want to have to live in this fucked up world without any kind of entertainment, was all. That and he actually stopped his quest to find that insolent stitches-faced curse to help this human, and he'd be damned if he stopped his hunt just for this shaman to roll over and die. The kid was just interesting. He was invested in seeing his potential, of course he’d save him from an early end. He’s the King of Curses; it’s not as if it’s hard for him to heal someone on the brink of death. 

He can tell when Yuuki finally takes a better look around them, making an awed noise as she surveys the destruction. “Whooaaa holy shit! What went down here? Did you fight godzilla or something?”

“I don’t know what that is.”

She cries in outrage. “What?!”

“If that’s a pop culture reference, blame yourself.” He points out. “You’re the one who’s supposed to tell me these things.”

Yuuki digests his words, and then lets out a fake sob. “You’re right! I’ve been neglecting your education. This is unforgivable. We have to rectify this immediately.”

“Yeah, well,” he drawls, “maybe not immediately.”

“Eh?”

He points to the massive Mahoraga shikigami, enormous bulk turning their way. 

“... That’s your opponent? The Mass Production Eva looking dude?”

This is yet another reference he doesn’t get, but this time he just decides to ignore it. He’s in a rather magnanimous mood, now that Yuuki’s back. He might even take his time with this, properly show her how Jujutsu works. 

“He’s not just any ordinary opponent: this is the Eight-Handled Sword Divergent Sila Divine General, Mahoraga. The most powerful shikigami of the Ten Shadows Technique.”

“... Yeaaaaah, I'm gonna just stick to calling him an Eva Unit.”

Sukuna rolls his eyes— all four of them. 

“This is actually something of a ritual suicide pact,” Sukuna confides, to Yuuki’s incredulity. “This boy here attempted to use it as an ace in the hole, I suspect.” 

“Do I even want to know?” Yuuki wonders, seriously.

He ignores her. “He likely knew he would die soon, so he summoned it as a last resort. Both he and his opponent— however unwillingly— have entered into a pact to exorcise this shikigami, or be killed by it.”

“So basically this is a… ‘I might be dying but damn if I don’t take you down with me’ kind of thing?”

“That’s exactly what it is.”

“And you’re gonna destroy it?”

“Yes.”

Yuuki gasps again. “So you are rescuing him!” She enthuses, delighted. Then she pauses. “Eh? Hold on this is… Fushiguro right? The guy from Tokyo Dome? … But wait, I thought Taka-chan was more your type…???”

Sukuna scowls. He has no idea what the brat is going on about, but he has a feeling it’s nothing good. 

“Nevermind that brat, listen carefully because I’m only going to explain how this works once,” he tells her, sliding into an offensive stance.

“... Explain what?”

“How Jujutsu techniques work.” 

“Okay?” Yuuki is obviously confused as to why he'd go through the trouble, but he doesn’t bother to elaborate.

He doesn’t want to explain it, frankly. Doesn’t want to accept the fragility of her painfully human existence. He may be the strongest curse to have ever existed, a creature in the domain of gods, but Yuuki is just a young human girl. Sure, she has her outrageously monstrous strength, but she’s no curse user. He hadn’t ever bothered to teach her more than the absolute basics of how Jujutsu works, and she never seemed interested in learning much about it. 

If this whole night has taught him anything, it’s that her ignorance cannot go on. He cannot be beholden to a weak vessel. To any kind of weakness, at all.

And since it’s become clear he has no desire to rid himself of Yuuki, he simply must rid her of weakness. 

The hulking Mahoraga lunges for him.

He deflects, dodges, and then vaults over. As the lumbering beast turns, he uses his superior speed to give himself a wide opening. 

“Dismantle.”

Blood erupts from its body in explosive lines, just as he dodges out of the way again of another strike, a giant sword impaling where he’d been a moment ago.

“That technique is Dismantle— deceptively simple, but very effective.”

Yuuki blinks furiously. “Yeah. I can see that.”

He leaps away to give them some distance, eying his opponent carefully. “Tell me Yuuki, what else do you see?”

He half expects her to give him some witty, cavalier answer, but she seems to think better of it in this situation. Good, she’s learning. 

“There’s something wrong with its sword,” she answers, finally. “It feels weird. And— there. The wheel-thingy on its head turned and… and wait, it’s healing? Man, that blows.”

“So you noticed it’s healing, and even it’s sword— good.” He praises, genuinely impressed. “That sword is imbued with positive energy, the opposite of curse energy, or negative energy. If I’d been a cursed spirit, I’d be a goner right now.”

The shikigami moves to straighten to its full height, but Sukuna hits it with another Dismantle before it can rise fully.

To his surprise, it manages to deflect it.

It can see his technique— ?  

He has no time to try for another, before he’s launched in the air.

It even managed to land a square hit on him— that’s a hell of a lot more than anyone else has managed, tonight. 

He meets it in midair before it’s next strike, planting a palm on the wide bulk of its head. “My turn.” He grins. “Cleave.”

The Mahoraga is thrown several stories down into the ground below, bloody in the wake of an enormous crater. 

He floats down near it, positively drowning in his own pleasure. There, hovering above the mangled body of his current opponent, cheek still smarting from the earlier blow, he throws his head back and laughs. 

Yuuki is evidently alarmed by his sudden surge of euphoria, but he doesn’t bother to explain himself. But why wouldn’t he be happy? Yuuki is back, he’s found a new and unusual human who could prove useful, and he’s managed to find an interesting opponent? Who managed to surprise him and get a clean hit on him? A far cry from his existential wasting away earlier. What would Yuuki say in this situation? He supposes there’s no harm in saying it aloud. 

“Well, well, well, how the turntables.”

Yuuki lets out a delighted shriek of laughter. He pretends as if his smirk doesn’t grow tenfold in response. God bless. Who would have thought this would be what Sukuna would pick up from her three week long Office binge?  

“That’s not— you know what, no. That was— “ She wheezes. “Flawless execution. We’ll make a Michael Scott out of you yet.”

He has no idea what that means either, but Yuuki is awake and effusive in her happiness, so he doesn’t really care, either. 

Since he’s feeling so magnanimous and indulgent currently, he decides to finish this off with as minimal damage as possible. Yuuki is in such a good mood, after all, and she’s so much easier to deal with when she’s happy then when she’s shouting at him in near murderous rage. 

“ Domain Expansion: Malevolent Shrine.”

“Whoa,” Yuuki gasps in surprise, wonder flooding over their bond as she takes in his domain.

He doesn’t even bother to try not to preen at her reaction. His domain is quite incredible, if he does say so himself. 

“This technique is called Domain Expansion, an innate barrier technique and the pinnacle of Jujutsu Sorcery,” Sukuna takes the time to explain, “it traps targets inside an innate dimension unique to the user of the technique. Any and all of the user’s techniques are improved and cannot be avoided.”

“So you're, like, invincible here.” Yuuki surmises, impressed.

“Not quite, but more or less. There are ways around it, but it is considered an ultimate technique for a reason. Only a very powerful curse user would be able to find a way out of another user’s domain. And the more powerful the curse user, the more powerful the domain.”

Yuuki watches in awe as the shikigami is eviscerated, repeatedly, in front of her eyes. She has no idea what’s going on, but she imagines it has something to do with ‘attacks never missing’ and also ‘being astronomically improved’ within a domain. Really brings a new meaning to the term 'home field advantage'.

“Usually, a domain is a type of barrier. But mine is different.” Sukuna adds, smug. “It is not a distortion of space I claim as my own— rather, I am overlaying my domain over the world around me.” 

“... I see.” She definitely does not see, but this is really cool, and also, that seems like the right response.

Fortunately Sukuna is in a curiously good mood, for he just chuckles at her antics. “It’s because of this particular trait that I can expand it to a radius of 200 meters.”

“200 meters!” She repeats, eyes wide. “That’s huge! I mean, that is huge, right?!”

“Yes, it is bigger than any other.” 

He could have rained fury and pure destruction over an entire radius of 200 meters. He could have leveled entire city blocks. That’s totally wild.

She says as much aloud. “That’s epic, dude.”

“Ah, but it’s not over yet.”

The collapsed form of Mahoranga reveals itself after he dissolves his Malevolent Shrine. If it’s managed to adapt to not just his Dismantle technique, but all slashing attacks in general. Well, he shrugs. No matter.

He waits until the wheel has turned once more, before flicking two hands towards it. Mahoranga explodes. 

☆

Satoru gets the distinct impression he just missed something interesting. 

His suspicions are confirmed when he sees an explosion light up on the horizon. He cracks his neck. Yep, Shibuya is a raging dumpster fire right now. Somehow, this does literally nothing to dampen his mood. 

He grins widely when he registers this particular cursed energy. Sukuna is off doing something, hm? Maybe he should have gone after the rogue King of Curses, instead of the one masquerading as his dead best friend. He has a feeling that would have been the responsible thing to do. But Satoru has never been a reasonable or responsible adult, literally ever, and he’s not about to start now. He’s got a revenge / redemption arc to start and all.

Or he would, if he’d ever manage to catch the damned curse.

He might not be Suguru himself, but he certainly has his memories, Satoru thinks, deeply annoyed. Only his (former? Ex? Deceased?) best friend would be able to outmaneuver him like this. Wiggling out of his grasp right when he thinks he's got him pinned down. To evade his omnipresent sight to such a degree— that only could stem from an intimate awareness of his technique. And watching him as he grew into it all those years ago, helping him perfect it and figure out its flaws and weaknesses… yeah, damn. In hindsight, he’s more or less made his own worst enemy, hasn’t he? 

Not-Geto is making himself scarce for the moment, much to Satoru’s irritation. And that fucker is definitely doing it intentionally. He knows how much Satoru hates this, these stupid games of cat and mouse. Satoru likes the thrill of asserting his complete and unquestionable dominance over his opponents, not the chasing shit around in the dark part. This is likely a ploy to get him frustrated and impatient enough to make a mistake again. 

Too bad he knows the rules of this game now, and he's not going to be caught off guard again. 

A wide smile spreads on his face when he senses a familiar presence.

He stops his searching and touches down on the ground near what he assumes is the makeshift medbay, arms wide. “Nanami! Long time no see! Did’ja miss me?”

Nanami doesn’t spare his antics even a passing remark. He just stares down at Ichiji, who looks a little worse for wear but still in one piece. Satoru takes the time to look over Nanami; he sucks in a breath. 

“Nanami— !” 

“I’m fine, Gojo.” He says, woodenly. The white-haired man frowns, he’s definitely not fine. The entire left side of his face is drenched in blood. The inward curve where his other eye should be is too bloody to make much sense of, but Gojo is fairly certain even Shoko won’t be able to do much for it. 

He takes a moment to look at the others; he’s surprised to see old man Naobito actually seemed like he saw some action— he’s missing an entire arm— and Maki seems roughed up but still in one piece. 

“Nevermind us, Gojo,” the second year says, shaking her head. She gets unsteadily to her feet. “We need to go after Fushiguro.”

His eyes widen in alarm at her words. “He was with you?” he asks, urgently. “Where is he now?”

“Disappeared,” Maki answers through gritted teeth, moving to stand even though it's evident she’s got a broken femur. “Something killed the special grade we were fighting, and then after… that man he— … Fushiguro, he’s in danger, he—

“It was Toji.” Old man Naobito growls out. 

Satoru feels ice run down his spine. “What? But he’s— ” 

No. It can’t be.

“Dead. Reanimated.” The elderly Zen’in grunts. Satoru isn’t entirely sure if that makes it better or worse. 

“Fushiguro doesn’t know who he is— who he’s fighting.” Maki rushes to explain, wincing as she tries to put her weight on her leg. “We should go— 

“You’re not going anywhere,” Shoko clicks her tongue, heading towards them and pulling her surgical mask over her mouth as she goes. “Any of you. You’re in no condition to fight still.”

Her eyes slide to him. “Except for you. What are you doing here? Shoo.” She flaps her hand at him, then pauses and leans forward with narrowed eyes. “Actually, What happened to you? Someone actually had the gall to tell me you’d lost.”

“What slander!” Satoru gasps, even though it’s actually true. 

“You seem well enough,” she says, critically. “But be careful out there. This place is a mess— even for you.”

And doesn’t he know it. He’s not going to be caught unawares again. Those curses missed their one and only chance to bring him down. He smirks roguishly at his former classmate. “Just who do you think I am, Shoko?”

“An idiot that should be looking for his students.”

He salutes her. “Right you are! Keep everyone in one piece, okay~!”

And by that, he really means keep them alive. He gets the feeling they all— collectively, and not just  him— dodged a bullet here with Sukuna’s mysterious arrival. He cannot even fathom the levels of destruction that might have occurred if Satoru had actually gotten sealed. The sheer amount of curses unleashed here would have been enough for any sorcerer, no matter what rank, to struggle against. And add to that all the unregistered special grades all congregated here as well? He has a feeling that if he hadn’t offed the tree-like special grade, and Sukuna the volcano one, this whole night might have ended in a lot more death. 

And speaking of, who blew the hole in the barrier? He has a feeling everyone assumed it was him, but he’d been a bit busy at the time. The death toll would have been a hell of a lot higher had most of the non-sorcerers still been stuck inside. As it is, it looks like a good majority of them managed to escape. 

He shakes his head. 

He can think about that later. Right now, he needs to find— 

“F— Fushiguro?!”

Satoru whirls around, eyes wide. 

Shoko is staring in shock as a body slumps over directly in front of her. A body that hadn’t been there a second ago. 

He blinks furiously. Teleportation? No, his Six Eyes are telling him something different. It was there, and gone so fast no one but him was likely to have noticed. A presence of deep, festering curse energy. He narrowed his gaze at Megumi’s prone form; he could still see residue of it— a hell of a lot, actually. A great deal of it was concentrated inside of him… not entirely unlike the way Shoko’s own curse energy would filter through her patient’s bodies when she healed someone. 

Reverse curse technique? 

But who could have done that?

Sukuna? He dismisses the thought as preposterous. It feels like his cursed energy, but that must be a mistake. 

(His Six Eyes never make mistakes.)

Jagged pieces of an unknown puzzle kept piling up in front of him, and if there was one thing Satoru hated, it was not having all the answers. 

☆

In his quest to hunt down The Brain hiding in Suguru’s body, he finds himself squaring off against a different but equally formidable foe.

Nanami had warned him about this one. Apparently they’d gotten into a spat in the sewers while his kouhai was investigating a case of disfigured humans. His investigations had led him to an unregistered special-grade; he’d described him as a patchwork-looking curse with long gray hair and mismatched eyes, who referred to himself as Mahito. Satoru had tried to picture it and failed; the reality of it was just as odd. 

Man, and here he remembers a time when he thought it was surprising that volcano-head could actually talk. 

And here in front of him is a curse that not only talks, but also looks far too human for his tastes. 

He makes sure to have Infinity on, as he walks towards the curse, a few meters in front of him with a horde of disfigured humans. That technique of his was no joke. The curse senses him easily enough, looking over his crowd of monsters and actually has the gall to wave at him.

“Ah, Gojo Satoru! So Geto really failed in sealing you after all.” He pouts. “And we went through allll that trouble, too!”

“It was a good try,” he consoles, blithely. “Better luck next time!”

The long haired curse affixes a thoughtful look on his face, scratching his cheek. Then he nods seriously. “That’s true, that’s true. I can’t just let you get away with what you’ve done.”

“What I’ve done?” Satoru tilts his head. “Huh?”

“Hanami, Jogo, Dagon…” The curse ticks off his fingers. “I’ve gotta avenge them, ya know.”

“Ehhh, so you actually care to avenge them? That’s interesting.” He observes idly, shoving his hands in his pockets. “So? What will you do about it? Wanna fight?”

A gleam lights up in the curse’s mismatched eyes. Of course he does, why is that even a question? What else do curses live for, after all? And a chance to prove himself against the strongest Jujutsu Sorcerer on Earth? How could he possibly pass up an opportunity like that!

Satoru pulls his hands out of his pockets, cracking his knuckles. 

The disfigured humans lunge at him.

That’s a yes, then.

It’s just as he’s tossing a Blue at them and slicing through hordes of them at a time that he notices a far more alarming presence nearing him at improbable speeds. 

“Sorry Six Eyes, but you’ll have to make do with the other stitches-face.” A dry voice cuts in from above, and he barely dodges out of the way as a blur of pink (pink!!!) lands right where he’d been a second earlier. “This one is mine.” 

The crowd of curses is unceremoniously cut into vicious little pieces in the blink of an eye. Definitely a cursed technique if he ever saw one, even if he doesn’t know which. 

Satoru stares in disbelief.

He finally gets his first look at the infamous King of Curses reborn and— 

Wait, no.

It can’t be.

This can’t be Sukuna.

There’s no way Sukuna, the vicious and fearsome King of Curses… is this adorable pink-haired idol waifu of a girl!!

He’s going to brain himself on a street lamp just for thinking this later, but holy hell he’s fucking cute. The outfit isn’t helping matters. It’s all… Halloween-y. He’s a teenage girl dressed as a cat. His hair, at some point, must have been up in twin buns but has since fallen into disarray; he’s got little cat ears on his head too, and a cute choker collar with an honest to god bow on it. His skirt is an outrageously short pleated thing that makes his slender legs look miles long, tucked into heeled lace-up boots. He looks like an anime waifu, or maybe just an idol. He also looks… kinda familiar? Wait. Holy fuck. Nope, nope, nope. He’s not checking out the King of Curses. He’s not. And here Satoru thought this night couldn’t get any weirder. He lets out an incredulous laugh.

“I love Halloween,” he says, breathlessly.

Sukuna just turns a bewildered look his way. 

“Why if it isn’t Sukuna-sama! Oh my, do you both want to play with me?” The stitches-face in question calls from across the destroyed road. He doesn’t look nearly as worried as such a turn of events warrants. “I’m so flattered! I feel so popular!”

Sukuna’s brow twitches. His perfectly coiffed pink brow. God, Satoru’s going to have a full blown midlife crisis at this rate. Then he tosses a sakura-colored curl behind his shoulder, looking so hilariously arrogant and yet positively adorable as he smirks. Yep. Satoru is dead. Dead. 

“Che, what does an ugly maggot like you know about popularity?” He scoffs. “But yes, you should be flattered. You’ve managed to piss me off. That’s not a feat just anyone can claim credit for.”

The mismatched-eyed curse— Mahito— just grins brighter. He claps his hands. “Does that mean you’ll make me a deal, Sukuna-sama? Just like with the others?” His lashes lower. “I promise, unlike them, I’ll get a hit on you.”

Sukuna doesn’t look terribly worried. Actually, he looks rather indulgent.

“Sure,” he says, condescendingly, examining his stylish nails. They’re all cute and bedazzled, and look like they haven’t seen a day of physical exertion in their life. Satoru is honestly a bit mesmerized by them, twinkling in the street lights. 

“You get one hit on me,” Sukuna declares, eyes twinkling, as he lowers his hand and puts both on his hips. He looks like the star idol of some teen drama in the middle of a showdown with the show’s lead antagonist— he can see why this curse seems to be foolishly underestimating the double-faced spectre, given that. 

Then a slow, vicious smile curls on the pink-haired curse’s pretty lips. “And then, I’ll end you.”

Ah, yep. And there’s the King of Curses, destroying the illusion of youthful, girlish charm. 

Or actually, maybe it’s even more charming this way? 

Satoru really, probably, shouldn’t be thinking that. 

He supposes he’ll give credit where credit is due, too. This unregistered special-grade, Mojito (or wait, was it Mahito?) is really something else. That idle transformation technique already makes him a head above the rest, and Satoru finds himself surprisingly invested in seeing how Sukuna counters it. He knows how he himself would do it— after all, Mahito needs to actually touch someone to disfigure their soul, and people don’t ever touch Satoru unless he intends it. More than anything, this battle will be a test of speed and intelligence, Satoru thinks. Mahito is going to have to find a way to outwit the King of Curses, get him into a situation that his overwhelming power and speed can’t get him out of. 

“What are you still doing here, Six Eyes? This one’s mine.” Sukuna stirs him out of his musings, head turned to fix a blazing red eye at him.

Interesting. Earlier when he’d been bound by the Prison Realm seal, he’d only managed to get a blurry look at the King of Curses. But he did remember being met with honey gold eyes. They were red now— all four of them. What did that mean?

He breaks himself out of his thoughts, shrugging. “I can’t enjoy the show?”

“You don’t have better things to do?” The King of Curses raises a brow.

He grins. “And miss this? No way!”

Surprisingly, Sukuna seems more humored by him than annoyed. “Fine. But it’s not my fault if you— 

Ah, so that’s how he’s gonna play it. Satoru thinks, leaping back to avoid the ensuing, disastrous explosion. 

Fighting dirty. Figures.

What else could someone in Mahito’s situation do, though? There’s no way he’s going to beat him outright. He’s going to use any and every opportunity to his advantage, no matter how ‘underhanded’. Satoru would do the same, honestly, so he can’t really cast stones. But cutting the King of Curses off, mid sentence? Even that’s a little too cavalier, even for him. 

He floats above the carnage, using his Six Eyes to peer through the ensuing cloud of dust and debris to see what’s going on below. 

Hmm.

It looks like Mahito landed a hit. And a Black Flash, no less. Satoru has to say, he’s kinda impressed a curse managed to learn that. He’s even more impressed that it looks like Sukuna didn’t try to dodge. The pink-haired teenager is standing dead center of the blast zone, looking more or less unruffled, despite the wreckage around her. He’s not sure what Mahito managed to hit, but at the very least, he knocked one of her buns totally loose and wrecked her clothing. The skin revealed beneath is unblemished though, so if he did injure the curse, it was healed almost immediately. 

“Was that all?” Sukuna drawls, sounding every inch the bored and untouchable King of Curses he’s made out to be in the legends as he winds a polished finger into the other bun, tugging it down as well.  “I’ve had menstrual cramps that hurt more than that.” 

Satoru chokes.

Of all the things to fucking say… 

He can’t help himself; he howls in laughter. “Wow. That burn was so good it should be framed in the Louvre.”

Fuck it, he doesn’t care what anyone else thinks and he never has— if he wants to find the King of Curses himself to be an utter fucking delight, he’ll damn well do it. 

“I don’t know what that means,” Sukuna replies. “But I hope for your sake it’s a compliment.” 

It’s a threat direct from the most evil and deranged curses, but it’s delivered with a side glance and a smirk that only has him laughing in delight. 

He nods sagely. “The highest compliment I’ve ever given anyone, I think.”

“Hmph.” The curse dismisses him, directing his attention back to his opponent, who looks put out by the astounding lack of damage. 

“You’re boring me.” Sukuna announces, and it’s impressive how he manages to sound so terrifying despite looking so cute. 

He puts his dainty little hands together and calls, in that cheerful voice, “ Domain Expansion: Malevolent Shrine.”

Satoru’s eyes widen. 

Oh shit. 

He watches in stunned disbelief as the King of Curses doesn’t make a barrier, just sort of… expands his domain over the world around him. He probably can’t even put into words how staggering a feat this is. This technique isn’t creating a separate space using a barrier, it’s literally dragging forth Sukuna’s innate domain and realizing it in the actual world. It’s akin to an artist painting a masterpiece not on brand new canvas, but right onto the air. 

A truly divine technique. 

He squints at it with his Six Eyes.

Is it really even a Domain Expansion technique, though? Because of the nature of its creation, ‘escape’ is technically possible. It’s not a solid barrier, more like… an intangible, abstract pact. A binding vow, really. 

And Satoru is caught up in it.

He should be a bit more worried, honestly. He just got sucked into another curse-user’s domain— and hell, this is one domain battle he’s actually not sure he’d manage to win. 

His heart is almost beating out of his chest, but it’s not out of fear. 

“Cleave.”

He’s read about the King of Curses, the Double Faced Specter, and his infamous techniques. There’s his domain expansion, which in person is even more incredible than the documents made it out to be. There’s Dismantle and Cleave, two elegantly simple techniques that Satoru admits rather suit the curse. Painfully precise and exquisite in execution, and Sukuna uses them both to such an impressive, exacting degree. The special-grade curse, Mahito, really didn’t stand a chance. 

Or well, he shouldn’t have.

After being repeatedly flayed alive, it shouldn’t have taken much to finish him off. 

But the curse had… morphed. 

A special transfiguration?

His body had completely changed, resembling something more like that tree-curse Satoru had killed earlier than a human body. It’s face had warped and distorted, the stitches gone as if they’d burst open like a chrysalis to reveal the new form beneath. It was evidently much hardier than the previous body— still alive after Sukuna’s attack, although barely hanging together. 

Sukuna narrows his eyes at the curse. It’s impossible to tell what he’s thinking from his stoic expression. 

He raises a hand, likely to finish it off, when several things happen at once: the entirety of Sukuna’s attention suddenly becomes diverted, his head snapping towards his right, just as an enormous, inky black hole spills out from beneath Mahito’s feet; a horde of low grade curses spring from it, acting more like a screen than any kind of real defense; Sukuna deals with them almost immediately, but his attention is still focused conclusively on something else; the shadow pool disappears, taking Mahito with it. 

Satoru just barely withholds an annoyed sigh.

The only thing he can really say about these special grade curses is that they’re annoyingly good at running away. 

“So, you gonna chase after him?” Satoru calls down below, genuinely curious.

Sukuna doesn’t respond at all for a long moment. He’s not even looking in Satoru’s direction. Rude. Does he think Satoru’s not a threat to him? Double rude. 

“No,” he says, which surprises Satoru. His eyes narrow at something in the distance. “I’ll have other opportunities to end him.”

Satoru smirks. “Not if I get there first~” He teases.

He doesn’t get much of a rise out of the King of Curses though, who just shrugs. “So be it, then.”

Satoru blinks rapidly. “Eh? Didn’t you say he was yours to kill?”

“I have more important matters to tend to.”

His light, teasing expression falls at that. Sukuna having more important matters to attend to… as if that wasn’t ominous.

Satoru looks down at where Mahito disappeared. He should really probably stick with Sukuna— if not to exorcise him, then at least to see what he’s up to (which is unlikely to be anything good). But he knows that cursed manipulation technique like the back of his own hand; that was Geto Suguru, or whoever's masquerading as him now. He could use the residual energy here to track him pretty easily. And that Mahito curse is mortally injured right now, it would only take a single hit from Satoru to eradicate him from existence for good.

Hm, what to do? What would a reasonable adult do?

This thought flickers through Satoru’s head, and he nearly laughs aloud. Hell. He’s not a reasonable adult, so what does he care. 

Satoru drops to the ground by Sukuna, not quite in his blind spot but also not directly in front of him. A perfectly neutral position, which he’s sure the King of Curses takes notice of. Satoru doesn’t want to fight— or well, not right now anyway. And he thinks the feeling is mutual. Satoru is fairly certain he’d win if he and Sukuna duked it out right now, judging from what he’s seen of Sukuna’s techniques alone. But he highly doubts he’s seen the entirety of the curse’s abilities, so he’d rather not risk it. It might be a fight he’s sure he’d win, but not without cost. 

Sukuna doesn’t even glance his way, attention still fixated on something even Satoru’s Six Eyes don’t see. 

“Sukuna,”

This succeeds in gleaning the curse’s attention.

“Here, before you go.”

The curse turns to face him fully, bow lips drawn into an annoyed frown. He looks like he has half a mind to (attempt to) slice him open just for distracting him, but that anger clears into genuine confusion when he sees what Satoru’s holding out to him.

It’s his own jacket that he's just taken off his person, a little scuffed but still in perfect condition, balled up in his hands. 

Sukuna looks at it, then at him, with a blank expression. 

“You know, uh, if you wanna put it on.”

He gives a vague wave towards him with his other hand. 

Sukuna looks down at himself.

Satoru has the once in a lifetime pleasure of actually seeing the King of Curses himself blush. He finally registers that half of his outfit had been blown off earlier; even if the attack hadn’t actually injured him, it did a number on his clothing. Half his jacket was seared clean off, leaving a pitiful single sleeve and part of a shoulder left. And the tiny crop top he had on beneath has also suffered damage to its structural integrity, leaving most of the bra he’s wearing beneath (a stupidly, unbearably, adorable lacy thing that Satoru has not been staring at this whole time, not at all) exposed to the elements. He desperately fights to keep any and all expressions off his face as he watches Sukuna hastily pry the scraps of his jacket off and pull Satoru’s over his head.

Satoru… actually has to look away from the sight. 

Despite his impressive height for a teenage girl, he’s still nowhere near Satoru’s own build in width or in height, and the jacket utterly dwarfs him. Only the tips of his fingers are visible from beneath the sleeves, and the bottom hem nearly swallows his skirt whole, making it look like he’s got nothing on beneath. And that’s to say nothing of the wide collar, which almost falls off one shoulder.

Sukuna tugs at the collar; the sleeves cascade to bunch at his elbows. “Ah…”  It’s so cute Satoru wants to die. 

“... Thanks.”

The curse is very studiously not looking at him, ducking his head the other way. 

Satoru chuckles weakly, feeling like his knees are about to give out on him. “Ahaha… anytime…” 

Satoru decides to take one for the team here and cut both their losses, throwing up a hand in hasty goodbye before teleporting the fuck out of there. They both silently, and in unison, decide to never speak of this to anyone, ever.

☆

“Master Sukuna… are you alright?” Uraume blinks at him, violet eyes as scrutinizing as ever.

Sukuna just clears his throat, refusing to show anything on his face. “Just fine.”

“Yeah Sukuna… ARE you alright?” Yuuki asks, and the only reason he doesn’t drag himself down into their shared domain to rattle her around is because there’s genuine worry in her voice, not sarcasm. 

“I am fine.” He grits out. “What about me says otherwise?”

“My heart felt kinda funny earlier,” Yuuki replies, which is exactly what Sukuna doesn’t want to hear. “And I felt a little… overheated? Maybe I’m getting sick?”

“Probably.” Sukuna agrees, hastily.

Uraume tilts their head. “Are you ready? I’ve come to escort you.”

Yuuki stares curiously at them. “And who is this? A human?”

“Yes.”

“Friend of yours?”

Friend? Sukuna rears back as if struck. What a preposterous concept. “Of course not.”

“Of course not.” Yuuki echoes. 

He’d thought that was the presence he’d felt earlier, when that annoying patchwork curse disappeared. He was still pissed that the damn curse got away yet again, but frankly, meeting Uraume was more important than stroking his own pride. He’s shocked to see Uraume here, but at the same time, can’t really find it in him to be that surprised. Uraume must be working somehow with these curse users— for Sukuna’s benefit, of course. 

This is only confirming his suspicions about that brain from earlier. HIs eyes narrow in thought. 

“I have other matters I need to attend to.” Sukuna dismisses. Now’s not the time. He can feel Yuuki’s confusion, but he ignores it. 

It would have been more convenient had this happened while she was still gone, but ah, well. It is what it is. 

“I see.” Uraume replies calmly, bowing. 

“Don’t neglect your preparations,” he says. “I’ll see you later.”

“Understood.”

He turns to leave. “Oh, and Uraume?”

The white-haired human looks up at him from a curtain of hair. 

“Learn how to make plum curry rice , will ya?”

☆

Yuuki is still in a distant state of disbelief.

She’s sure the shock will come later, along with the horror and despair. But for now, she’s still wandering around in a daze, in some strange man’s jacket, through a desolate dystopian wasteland that used to be Shibuya proper.

“What the hell, Sukuna! Look at all this damage!” She grouses, picking her way over a massive mound of rubble.

“Oi, did you see how many fights were going down here? Why the hell do you blame me?”

Yuuki narrows her eyes at a particular skyscraper above them, the top floors nearly blown clean off. 

“Who else could possibly have caused this much destruction but you.”

The smugness he radiates in response doesn’t help his case.

Yuuki sighs. 

There’s not much she can do about it now, the damage is already done. Plus, she can’t exactly say Sukuna was in the wrong here. Sure he caused a lot of property damage, and who knows how many people might have gotten hurt in the ensuing chaos— but he also saved far more, when he punctured a hole in the barrier and allowed the hostages to escape. He also personally went after the special-grade curses responsible for this and hunted them down one by one, which still confuses her.

Sure, Sukuna has a thing with hunting. Like any other apex predator, he lives for that thrill and gets a bit fixated on his prey. It’s why he was so adamant on destroying that patchwork curse guy— he’d gotten away once, hanging on to his pitiful life even though he should have suffered an unceremonious death at Sukuna’s hands. (That and he’d tried to kill Yoshino-san of the plum curry sauce). 

But all this was… well, overkill, even for Sukuna. 

He must have been suuuuper pissed, she deduces. I wonder what pissed him off this time?

It’s a bit of a struggle to find her way around Shibuya when it looks markedly different than it had before, but somehow she manages to stumble her way out of the main area towards where she last saw her group mates. 

Yuuki curses her lack of phone, but knows she made the right call leaving it with Takada. Knowing Sukuna, he’d have either accidentally dropped it down a sewer drain or smashed it in two in the middle of a fight if she’d kept it on her person. He’d already ruined one of her absolute favorite outfits. 

Yuuki pulls tragically at the dark jacket the white-haired man had given her earlier, silently lamenting the tragic end to her favorite balenciaga jacket.

“It’s incredible, really, how you manage to destroy my wardrobe like this.” She complains, remembering all the times he’d fought curses in her body and ended up with eviscerated guts all over her clothes and worse, her hair. 

“Tch. Better your clothes than your life, ungrateful wench.”

Yeah, she supposes that’s true.

“Mm.” She smiles, beatific. “Thanks for saving me, Sukuna-samaaa ♡ ~” 

Of course, this just makes the curse even more churlish. “Fuck off, I didn’t save anyone.”

Lies. 

She curls the jacket tighter around her as a gust of cold night wind blows by. She catches a whiff of something woody and masculine as she buries her nose in the fabric. Like cedar, or sandalwood. Is that… Bleu de Chanel? Oof. Good taste, mystery man. 

Sukuna makes a gagging noise in her mind. “Ugh. Don’t you dare go falling for that Six Eyes bastard.”

“Six Eyes?” Yuuki repeats, curious. She thinks back on the guy from earlier— … he had a set of incredibly stunning, nearly iridescent cerulean blue eyes. A single set. As in two, not six. They were so beautiful she would have noticed if there were more than two.They were so pretty she was glad Sukuna had been in control at the time, she'd probably have just sat there and stared at them instead of actually fighting.

“Oh great, here we fucking go,” Sukuna complains. “Stop waxing poetic about his stupid eyes.”

“They were very pretty, come on!” Yuuki protests. “Even you must have noticed!”

“Not at all.” Sukuna snorts. “I have far more class than that.”

“Right, right.” Yuuki agrees, smirking. “Like Taka-chan.”

“Precisely.”

And Fushiguro-kun, Yuuki mentally giggles. Then again, Yuuki remembers him being a pretty good looking guy too. She supposes Sukuna might just have good taste after all. Although she hasn’t heard his opinion on Jennifer Lawrence yet…

“Hey, Sukuna, when we get back, let’s watch Hunger Games okay?”

“No.” Sukuna shoots her down immediately.

“No?” Sukuna is usually game for watching movies. 

“No. We’re watching Invasion of the Body Snatchers.” He declares, pompously.

“...Okay??” Yuuki blinks rapidly.

☆

Yuuki sighs in relief, flopping onto her bed as she towels off her hair. It’d taken ages to get all the dirt and dust out of it. She’s lucky Sukuna is so good at fighting, otherwise it’d be far worse she’s sure. That and she’s managed to train him at this point to avoid getting blood on her outfit at all costs. Not that he always remembers. Still, she hadn’t looked as frightful as she could have when she found her fellow idols crowded in an emergency shelter outside Shibuya. 

The world will be a mess tomorrow, but for now, she’s just happy to be clean. 

Still warm and sleepy from her bath, she lounges on her bed in her towel for long after she’s dried off her hair. Her eyes slide to her discarded clothing she unceremoniously tossed off the moment she got back in a hapless trail leading from her door. It’s basically unsalvageable— except for the shiny jacket sprawled across the bedspread beside her. 

After a moment of hesitation, she reaches for it tentatively. The material is surprisingly soft under her fingers. It’s a nice jacket, even if she doesn’t recognize the brand; a shiny nylon-like material to break the wind on the outside, and a soft interior lining that’s probably enough to keep warm even in inclement weather despite its thinness. 

Yuuki doesn’t even realize what she’s doing until she’s already done it— bringing it back up to her face, just holding it close. It still smells nice. Like smoke and dust from the whole disaster at Shibuya, but something deeper, too. A man’s cologne; a soft detergent. It’s soothing, somehow. 

“Oi, Yuuki.”

She gives a deafening shriek and falls right off her bed, tossing the jacket away from her.

“W— What?!” She gasps out, face cherry-red.

The mouth on the back of her hand pauses, taken aback by her behavior. 

“I need you to do something for me.” Sukuna says, and Yuuki isn’t sure if she’s relieved he evidently didn’t notice what she was doing before he manifested, or worried because Sukuna needing a favor was the most foreboding shit she’s heard all year. The last time Sukuna asked for a favor, they ended up on this crazy quest to consume all twenty of his fingers, which is exactly what landed them in their current predicament. 

“...What?” She asks, warily.

“I need you to join the Jujutsu Sorcerer’s school.”

Yuuki chokes. “Say what?!”

Out of all the things he could have said, asking her to go back to school was not one of them. 

“Are you crazy?!” 

Sukuna scowls. “Oi, watch who you’re insulting wench.”

It’s a threat, but Yuuki totally ignores it. “You’re the one who told me to stay the hell away from them in the first place!” She counters, hysterical.

“That was then, this is now.” Sukuna replies, like that solves anything.

It doesn’t.

“I can’t go back to school!” Yuuki insists. “You don’t understand— I’m terrible at school! The worst! And going to a Sorcerer’s school when I’m not a sorcerer? How am I supposed to do that?”

“You are a sorcerer.” Sukuna retorts. “You can see curses and use cursed energy. That’s the most basic requirement for the school.”

“And also,” Yuuki continues, on a roll, “didn’t you say they would probably execute me on sight if I got too close? What happened to your self preservation huh?! If I die, you die, ya know!”

“I’m aware,” Sukuna grouses, testily. “But things have changed.”

“How so?”

“For one, I don’t think they’ll execute you. Not on sight.”

She rolls her eyes, hard, dropping down into a sprawl on the floor. “Oh, great. A postponed execution— that’s so much better.”

“I’m obviously not going to let that happen.” Sukuna points out, sounding far too unconcerned over the matter. “But that Six Eyes user from earlier— he’s from the Gojo clan, one of the three most prominent families in the Jujutsu World. If he vouches for you, the Jujutsu Society won’t be able to touch you.”

“You’re banking a lot on a guy you met for all of ten minutes,” Yuuki says, critically.

Sukuna casually doesn’t mention everything that went down when she was unconscious. “I think he’d be more susceptible to it than you’d expect.”

She chews her lip. She can’t believe she’s actually giving this some actual thought.

“What’s your actual game plan here?” She asks, frowning. “I mean, why now? You were so adamant about staying away before, and now you’re telling me to run straight to them!”

Sukuna at least seems to take her questions seriously, taking a moment to reply. 

“By getting caught up in this plot between the curses and the sorcerers, we’ve managed to recover over half of my remaining fingers. If we stick around, we’re bound to find them all, at a much faster rate than we would otherwise. And now I can say with certainty that they wouldn’t kill you outright now. They can’t. I’m too powerful for that. They’d wait until I’ve collected all my fingers instead.” 

Yuuki purses her lips, crossing her arms. “So instead they’ll just kill me later? Wouldn’t that be even harder, since you’d be even more powerful?”

“Oh, yes.” Sukuna agrees. “But they also know that’s the only way to permanently defeat me.”

“By killing me, your host— with you along with me— after I’ve consumed all your fingers?” Yuuki summarizes, brow furrowed. 

“Exactly.” 

It still sounds like a super dumb idea, on their part. Are they banking on Yuuki’s sense of morality prevailing over her own self-preservation? That is to assume, of course, that Yuuki could even maintain control over Sukuna at his full power. Personally she thinks it’ll be easy enough, but there’s no way they could know that. And she can admit that her own confidence in her abilities would seem far fetched to an outside party. 

“But how can they even be so sure they’ll manage it?” Yuuki asks, sincerely perplexed.

“They’ll be relying on that Six Eyes user to overpower me.”

Her eyes flicker to the man in questions’ jacket. “Is he really that strong?”

Sukuna makes a noncommittal noise. “He would make a formidable foe— but his cursed techniques aren’t as infallible as he seems to think they are. Regardless, because of those techniques he’s likely the strongest Jujutsu Sorcerer in at least half a millennia.” 

Huh. 

Honestly, she couldn’t really see it. Sure, he seemed pretty strong. He had that weirdly eccentric and cavalier attitude she’s come to associate with strong people. And it’s true he didn’t seem remotely bothered by the explosive battle between Sukuna and Mahito, and he didn’t seem worried over being in Sukuna’s innate domain either— right in the jaws of the predator. But Yuuki was having a hard time taking him seriously since every time she thought about him, she kept thinking about his uncomfortable expression as he held out his jacket to Sukuna to preserve her modesty. Giving the King of Curses his jacket, like a boy on a date! 

She hides her bubble of laughter under the pretense of clearing her throat. 

“I still don’t understand why I have to go to school,” she pouts. “Can’t I just let them know who I am, that I’m available for any and all late-night finger-food snacking, and just go on my merry way? It’s not like I can give up being an idol, you know! That’s already so time consuming!”

“Yes, but learning their techniques will be to your advantage.” Sukuna counters. “Don’t you want to get stronger?”

Yuuki wrinkles her nose. “I don’t want to get stronger— I want to get famous!”

The mouth disappears from her hand as Sukuna drops his head into both of his hands and sighs, laboriously. “Why did I have to get stuck with YOU, as all people, as my vessel?” 

A wide grin splits her face.

“Hehehe~ but what would you do without me? You’d be so bored without me!”

Sukuna just grumbles in response. 

(Later, he’ll turn the teasing question around over and over in his head. What will he do without her?)

(Why was that question so impossible to answer?) 

Chapter Text

☆ THE HOMEWORK NEVER ENDS ☆

ホームワークが終わらない

It’s gone from very late to edging into early morning territory, and the now dubbed ‘Shibuya Incident’ is finally winding down. Even Suguru’s Night Parade last year in Shinjuku and Kyoto can’t quite compare to the sheer amount of damage he’s currently surrounded by. 

He sees all the students back to the dorms, as well as the transfers to the campus hospital. His sympathies go out to Shoko— she’s been working all night, and she’ll probably be doing the same for several more. He spares a sad thought for himself, too; he too is stuck with responsibilities that are going to keep him up for several hours more. 

What he really wants right now is a nap. 

A nap and a chocolate parfait. 

Being the strongest is the worst. 

Satoru doesn’t get either of the things he actually wanted, and as a shitty consolation prize when he finally has a moment to spare he gets a second to sprawl over an uncomfortable couch in the break room with a can of vending machine cappuccino. He can’t even catch a quick nap because his legs dangle off the side of this sorry sofa and his brain is too wired from excess caffeine and adrenaline to sit still.

His thoughts chase themselves around in his head with no end in sight; they’re just surface observations and disconnected ideas that don’t lead anywhere. Why did Sukuna choose tonight of all nights to reveal himself? It can’t have been coincidence, that Pinky and The Brain over here— supposedly Kamo Noritoshi— attacks Shibuya and finally reveals himself after hundreds of years, and Sukuna’s vessel also reveals themselves. Himself? Herself? 

And what’s with that appearance, anyway?

He can’t imagine some random high school girl entirely unknown and unrelated to the Jujutsu world having enough power to act as a vessel for the King of Curses. Even if she’d only swallowed one finger— which from Sukuna’s fighting earlier, was evidently not the case— that was still too much cursed energy for any regular human to handle. Her body should have degraded almost immediately into some kind of monstrous curse, humanity long lost. 

A deep furrow creases his blindfold. 

There’s probably more to her than meets the eye. He’ll have to dig deeper into her history. Or have Ijichi do it. He makes a mental note to his kouhai to try looking for teenage girls in the Tokyo Metropolitan Area that have gone missing within the last year. Just the thought of how much time and effort it’ll take to locate the poor girl who’s body Sukuna has stolen is enough to make him feel excruciatingly tired. Not just tired, but bone-deep exhausted in a way that has nothing to do with the exertion of extensive research; there’s always something deeply unpleasant to the idea of innocents losing their lives to curses. Sukuna was a cute girl— she probably had friends and family, and an honest life. He wonders what circumstances collided together to make some high school girl eat a cursed finger. He wonders how many people got caught in the crossfire. 

Well, what’s done is done. Sukuna is here, an ancient enemy has made its move, and figuring out how that managed to happen won’t change the reality of his existence in the modern era. 

☆

Chisato, their group's ‘calm and collected even in the face of great calamity and/or colossal stage malfunctions™’ member, actually appears at a loss for words. 

“Yuuki-chan,” she says, in that prim and civil voice of hers that immediately sets a chill down Yuuki’s spine.

Yuuki’s head snaps up from her stretches, eyes wide. She turns to where Chisato is hovering in the door of their practice studio. Oh no. Did she leave the toaster on again in the break room? Put her dirty socks in Chisato’s shoes?

“You never told me you had a brother.” Chisato continues, conversationally.

Yuuki frowns. “I… don’t?”

“Oh really?” The blonde turns to her with an iron smile. “Ah, I see. Excuse me while I call security— 

Chisato stops abruptly as she’s unceremoniously elbowed out of the way. Yuuki gasps, and within seconds she’s sliding across the floor and catching the blonde before she falls. Her defenses are raised as she glares up at the newcomer— a bored, dark-haired looking boy that looks around their age or a bit older, his hair up in two buns and a slash of what she hopes is ink over his nose. Yuuki shrivels her nose. Nope, it’s blood.

“What the hell is this thing?” She asks Sukuna, hysterically. Out loud; “Who the hell are you?”

The man has the gall to look utterly unphased. “I’m your older brother.”

“What an interesting aura… I believe this is a half-human, half-curse hybrid,” Sukuna purrs, intrigued. 

Yuuki balks. “That’s a thing?”

“Well the evidence is in front of you.”

“I don’t have an older brother.” Yuuki deadpans. 

He shakes his head. “You do. There were others, but they’ve been…” He falters, then, glancing down. “They’re no longer with us.”

“What the hell is this guy talking about.” Yuuki marvels, genuinely floored. Seriously, what the hell. What even is her life.

“Nevermind that,” Sukuna says, waspishly. “He’s dangerous. You need to get him out of here and exorcise him immediately.”

Yuuki’s face sets into a look of grim determination. Sukuna is right. Her hands curl gently around Chisato, careful not to hurt her with her strength. The blonde is trembling just slightly, clearly scared by the turn of events. 

“Hurry, before she gets back.”

Yuuki almost face plants right into the floor.

Of course he’s just worried about his best girl. 

Still, whatever the case he’s right. Takada and Maya left to get drinks and snacks from the nearby konbini half an hour ago; they’ll be back any moment. 

“Why don’t we discuss this somewhere else?” Yuuki asks, trying to sound as pleasant as possible for Chisato’s sake as she helps the other girl stand up properly.

Chisato’s gaze snaps towards her, incredulous. “Yuuki-chan— !”

“It’s fine,” the pink-haired girl cuts her off, smiling wide. “I think I might know what he’s talking about. Don’t worry, we won’t be long.”

Chisato looks like she wants to argue, so Yuuki decides to put her outrageous athleticism to work and hauls both herself and the mysterious hybrid out the door in record time. 

“I’ll be back in an hour or so! Save me a melon bread!” She shouts over her shoulder, as she shoves the half-curse down the stairwell. Chisato shouts her name down the hall, expression stricken.

Yuuki’s cheerful expression falls as she slams the stairwell door shut, glaring at the dark-haired curse before her. She brushes past him with a sniff of her upturned nose and sets down the stairs; he follows rather demurely, for a curse. That’s probably a good sign. He doesn’t seem particularly inclined to violence. 

“Alright—” Yuuki claps her hands, frighteningly cheerful smile fixed on her face. “You have exactly five seconds to give me some kind of explanation before I kill you, curse.”

“Half-curse.” 

“Three seconds.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say.” He looks positively underwhelmed by the idea of his impending death. “I saw you in Shibuya, realized who you were, and went to find you.” 

“You better have a damn good reason for coming here to find me.” Yuuki says, through gritted teeth. She doesn’t actually want to kill him, not without getting some answers at least, but he’s annoying enough that she does sort of want to punch him in the mouth. Hell. Maybe he really is her older brother. Aren’t they supposed to be super annoying and the bane of every little sister’s existence? 

He just shrugs. “It took me a while to track you down.”

That’s on purpose! Yuuki fumes silently. 

Then she blinks, frowning. “Wait— how did you find me?”

“You said we should be untrackable for sorcerers and curses alike, right Sukuna?” 

“Yes.” The curse replies, sounding pensive.

“Like I said, I’m your brother.” He answers, monotonous.

“What does that have to do with anything?” Yuuki asks, perplexed. Even if it was true— which it’s definitely fucking not— that still doesn’t make any sense.

“I used our blood connection.” 

Yuuki nearly trips over the last few steps in shock. Surprisingly, her ‘brother’ catches her by the arm before she busts her nose on the concrete below. 

Her head whips back, eyes wide. “You’re serious?”

He nods. “Yeah.”

Yuuki’s mind just goes blank. She opens the stairwell door on autopilot. They spill out into the city; it’s only six, but at this time of year the sky is already dark and the city lit like a neon dream. She shivers slightly in the cold November air, and untugs the jacket around her waist to put it on properly. It’s that Jujutsu Sorcerer’s and— well. There’s no reason to be embarrassed about constantly using it. It’s a nice jacket! It’s very warm! And perfect for practice, okay! 

“So, like, what— you just randomly realized through your blood connection that we were related?” Yuuki asks, after a long and heavy silence where her feet take her aimlessly through the streets. 

“Yes.” He pauses, turning to her. “What do you know about your parents?”

Her brow furrows. “... Almost nothing.” She admits, warily. 

He makes a disinterested noise. “Well, it doesn’t really matter either way.” He says, conversationally. “You’re my little sister.”

She turns to him, blankly. He looks back, all impassive eyes underneath a dark, heavy set brow. They look literally nothing alike. In coloring, features, body type. He doesn’t seem like he’s lying— or at least, he believes his own lies as truth— and Yuuki is just curious enough to hear him out. Also. Half-curse. How in the hell does that happen? 

“If you’re going to decide yourself to be my older brother, you could at least introduce yourself.” She points out. 

He blinks, realization dawning on his face. He actually manages to look a little embarrassed as he scratches his cheek, gaze darting away. “Ah. Right. I’m Choso. I’m the eldest of— now ten. Although two of our brothers perished against Jujutsu Sorcerers. And the rest are still sealed within the college.”

… What.

☆

Yuuki massages her temples, and stabs her souffle pancake with more strength than necessary and accidentally splinters the adorable pink plate beneath. Great. Just great. Choso watches her casual display of intense strength with raised brows, but Yuuki ignores him in favor of her own existential crisis.

“So, let me get this straight. Some piece of maniacal, misogynistic trash had your mother have multiple half-curse pregnancies for unknown reasons, creating you and most of your brothers. And somehow, a couple hundred years later had me, under also mysterious circumstances.” 

She glances up at Choso, who nods emphatically.

Fucking hell.

And here she thought Sukuna was the weirdest thing to have happened to her. 

Yuuki has a splitting headache. She’d thought dragging them to this souffle pancake shop and drowning herself in such inadvisable amounts of sugar her nutritionist would burst into flames at the sight of it would make her feel better. It does, but only for as briefly as the sugar high lasts. This is actually their second stop of the day, because people were giving Choso odd looks on the street (as a half-curse half-human hybrid, he’s visible to non-curse users) and she had to punt them into a Uniqlo and wrestle him into normal people clothes. Choso looks discomfited in his colorblocked rain jacket, and annoyed that she made him bury most of his atrocious hair style under a beanie, but at the very least they both fit in at this cafe. Yuuki herself had ducked in to grab a baseball cap in a half-hearted attempt to hide her identity. The high collar of this jacket is doing wonders to help preserve her anonymity, incidentally. All the more reason to continue to casually just wear it all the time. 

They’d managed to squirrel in here before the crowds of high-schoolers fresh from school took up all the tables, and now she and Choso blend in with all the young, trendy kids snapping photos of their pancakes on their phones. Chisato had been blowing up her own phone with increasingly panicked messages, until Yuuki had to admit she was having a bit of a personal crisis here and would fill her in later, but there was no way she was going back to practice now. Chisato, bless her, took it at face value and didn’t ask anything else. If only Takada was going to be that easy…

If her brunette group leader wasn’t tearing up the streets looking for her, Yuuji would solo an entire NCT dance routine on their next game show. 

“I don’t really know what to say,” Yuuki breaks the silence, voice small. 

“You don’t need to say anything.” Choso replies.

She shakes her head. “I don’t even know what— I don’t know what to do with this, either.”

Now he looks perplexed. “You don’t have to do anything.” He shrugs. “We’re siblings. It’s my job as the eldest brother to look after you, so that’s what I’m going to do.”

I don’t need looking after, asshole. She thinks, but it’s rather half-hearted at best.

She knows somehow, despite having only met him for all of an hour, that he doesn’t mean it in some condescending, patronizing way. You can learn a lot about a person by making them open up about terrible childhood trauma, it turns out, even in that meager amount of time. To him it’s not about some weird patriarchal standard of being responsible for his little sister’s virtue, or something. He takes his job as older brother seriously for all of his siblings, and hates the idea of them shouldering burdens of any kind when he can do it for them. They’ve all been through so much, coming into this world through violence and blood and having to fight for every second of their existence— an existence no one, curse or human, seems to want to accept. So it’s a little old fashioned, but it’s still rather sweet. 

She actually… kinda likes Choso. The fact that they had been enemies in Shibuya and yet he still changed sides and went to find her really speaks to the lengths he’s willing to go for his family.

“Bleeding heart.” Sukuna scoffs, sounding put out. 

Yuuki ignores him. The world (Sukuna included) could use a little more empathy. 

Yuuki drums her fingers against the shiny, laminated table top. “Well… I don’t really do anything all that dangerous— 

Yet. She adds mentally, remembering Sukuna’s request.

—but I guess I could use a bodyguard?” 

They probably need one at this point. It’s true their management company has guards for them whenever they’re out doing big public events, but in their day to day lives they’re left to their own devices. It’s fine for now, but they’re reaching a point where they’re going to likely need around the clock guards and better security at their residences. Stalking is no joke in this business. 

Choso nods quickly. “I can do that.”

He probably can, if he’s really a special-grade as Sukuna says he is. Yuuki isn’t worried about his physical prowess all that much though… rather, she’s more worried about him adjusting to modern society after being sealed for who knows how long. 

“Great!” Yuuki chirps. “Well, with that settled, I should really get back to my group mates.”

She’s not exactly surprised when Choso just gets up and follows her, but it is rather disconcerting. Does he just have nothing better to do? Sukuna said he’d been fighting for the curses during the Shibuya incident, but didn’t really say much about him. Choso himself revealed he’d been stolen from the Jujutsu College by the special-grade curses to be used against Jujutsu Sorcerers, and by his own account only went along with it because he had no real reason not to. 

Yuuki didn’t really remember much about Shibuya, honestly. She was… somewhere in limbo for most of it, and whenever she tries to prod Sukuna into talking about it he gets all moody and prickly. Homeboy’s got a huge chip on his shoulder over the whole mess, which makes no real sense to Yuuki. Sukuna made out like a bandit in Shibuya— he ended up with ten of his fingers returned to him, and he got in a slaughterfest that would put Freddy from Friday the 13th to shame! Sukuna can be surly about the weirdest things though, so Yuuki just lets him be. She doesn’t really care, honestly. Sukuna seems ambivalent enough on the subject of Choso, which is a hell of a lot more than she can say for anyone else they faced that night, and that’s good enough for her. Let bygones be bygones and all. 

She’s probably the only one who came out of that mess with that attitude, though.

They’re just turning through a narrow side street when a hulking blur dives right over her and socks Choso right in the face. Yuuki yelps in surprise, scrambling off to the side. A tall, broad human man towers over Choso’s sprawled form, hands raised for another blow. 

“Hey!” Yuuki interrupts, moving to intercept. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Stay out of this, miss,” their assailant says— and he really is probably more boy than man, judging from his voice. And uniform. “You don’t want to get hurt.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Yuuki snaps. “Who are you and what do you think you’re doing to him?”

“The name’s Todo Aoi— and I’m here to exorcise this curse.”

“He’s not a curse, he’s human!” Yuuki insists. “And exorcise him?? What the hell did he ever do to you?” 

“Half, perhaps. But he was involved in an affair that injured my comrades. Beyond that, he is still a half-curse.” Todo says, stoically. “He must be exorcised.”

He’s oddly zen for a guy preaching on about murder, Yuuki notices with disbelief. His posture even seems to be some kind of calm state of repose, eyes closed, hands together. 

“But I will ask him one thing, before I vanquish him.” He intones, gravely.

A tense moment passes them.

“What kind of woman is your type?”

Yuuki face palms. Choso sputters. 

“What kind of ‘last words’ nonsense is this?” She spits out, incredulous. 

“I think Yuuki-chan is beautiful.” Choso says, like a dutiful brother. Yuuki would pat him on the head, if they weren’t awkwardly stuck in this alleyway with this weirdo. 

“Thanks, Choso, but don’t encourage him.” Yuuki wedges between the two of them, hands on her hips. 

She’s never felt small or dainty, not with her athletic build and physical prowess, but standing between these two outrageously tall and broad giants actually manages to make her feel small. Still, she doesn’t back down, shoving Choso behind her. He protests greatly, some nonsense about being the older brother and needing to protect her, but she ignores that on principle. 

“Listen here, bud,” Yuki pokes the tall, tanned man in the chest, utterly unafraid. “Half-curse or half-human, call it what you want, this guy here is my nii-chan. I’m not gonna let you exorcise him without a fight, got that?”

“Nii-chan…” Choso echoes, smiling blissfully in a manner very at odds with his normally impassive attitude. 

Todo looks solemn. “I don’t fight women and children as a general rule, but if you insist I will oblige.”

Oblige. Oblige! Okay, now Yuuki’s kinda pissed. 

“Your chivalry is wasted here,” she scoffs, drily. “But sure, yeah. Oblige me.”

He nods, and then without further ado she punches him clear across the street and straight into a dumpster. The metal groans loudly as it crunches on impact. Trash flies everywhere. Todo stares at her with a genuine look of stunned disbelief from his spot cratered into the now irreparable disposal unit. 

Yuuki shakes out her hand, looking down to confirm that her nails haven’t chipped. They haven’t. Perfect.

She shrugs off her jacket, tossing it at Choso as she puts up her fists. Todo eases himself out of his metal imprint, finally looking serious. She has to admit, it’s been a hell of a long time since she’s brawled like this. Not since she was pretending to be a boy in middle school, probably. The thrill of the fight rushes back to her. 

☆

For the record, Yuuki totally won this fight. 

Maybe it’s up to interpretation, but for Yuuki it’s pretty obvious she’s the winner here. Sure, Todo’s no slouch— he might even give her a run for her money in pure physical strength, and he’s also obviously well trained— but neither is Yuuki. He landed some solid hits, and so did she. More to the point, her makeup is still on point, she hasn’t even so much as chipped a nail, and not a hair is out of place from the elaborate braided ponytail Chisato had put it up in earlier. Even her outfit is only a little scuffed up. She looks like she just got out of a mildly tiring pilates class, not a back alley street fight. 

Todo, meanwhile, definitely looks like he was in a back alley street fight. He’s even got a black eye to prove it.

“You’re not too bad, but I think you should quit while you’re ahead.” She advises, primly. That and if they fight any longer she might actually break out into a genuine sweat. 

“You’re not too bad yourself,” Todo agrees, wiping blood off his mouth and smiling at her viciously. “If you were a man, I’d want to know what your type of woman was.”

Yuuki blinks. “My type of woman?” She doesn’t even have to think about it. “It’s Taka-chan, obviously.”

Todo gasps like she just sucker punched him in the gut. Actually she’s already done that, and even then he didn’t make a noise like this. 

“You’re a Taka-chan fan?!” He shouts, delighted. 

Yuuki blinks some more. Then she smirks roguishly. “Fan? Ha! I’m much more than just a fan! I’m her— 

“Yuu-chan? Are you back there?”

Speak of the devil, and all that. A sweet, feminine voice echoes down the winding streets. She hears the squeak of trendy tennis shoes on pavement, coming their way. 

“Your phone’s GPS says you are, so don’t bother hiding!” Her fearless leader grouses loudly. 

She finally turns the corner, coming face to face with her missing groupmate. Takada looks severely unimpressed, wrinkling her nose at her from beneath her innocuous baseball cap. Like Yuuki, she’s currently in her more athleisure-type wear for dance practice. Unlike Yuuki, she’s the sort of famous that anyone can recognize, even outside of their elaborate stage costumes. 

“Are you fighting?!” She gasps, incensed. “Yuuki! What if you get a black eye or something? Reiko-san will have an aneurysm!”

“I’m fine, I’m fine!” Yuuki grins winsomely, spreading her arms. “Look! Not even a scratch!”

Takada just shakes her head. “You’re lucky you didn’t roll an ankle or something, honestly. And don’t think I don’t recognize those leggings! If you tore a hole in them, you’re buying me a new pair.”

It’s not Yuuki’s fault Takada-chan is probably literally the only person on earth (or at least Japan) who has the exact same curves as Yuuki, in the exact same length. Of course she’s going to steal Taka-chan’s leggings— she has them tailor made just for her butt! And they have the same butt! How could Yuuki resist?

“Look, they’re not even scuffed up! Everything’s fine!” Yuuki gives her a twirl.

Takada still looks monumentally unimpressed with her, crossing her arms. “Nothing is fine. You ran out in the middle of practice for hours, didn’t answer your phone, and dragged me all the way out here just to look for you! Everyone’s worried sick, ya know. They said you ran off with some mysterious guy.”

Her gaze finally flickers away from Yuuki, to the two men behind her. Choso at least manages to pull off a somewhat unthreatening image, decked out in the clothes they bought him earlier, more or less unruffled. Todo, meanwhile...

“T— T— Taka-chan…” He sniffles, looking as if he’s seen the light of God. “It’s really Taka-chan!”

Takada’s expression breaks into something that attempts pleasant but misses by a mile. “Yes, hello, nice to meet you, would you mind telling me why you’re trying to beat up my darling kouhai, Yuuki-chan?”

The enraptured expression on his face breaks, as if the situation has suddenly caught up to him. He wilts like a dying flower. 

“No, no, no—  Taka-chan, it’s not like that!” 

☆

Actually, it is like that, and his beloved Taka-chan clearly knows it. 

Todo despairs for himself. 

On the one hand, this is probably the best day of his life. He finally gets to meet his wonderful Taka-chan, in real life! And not just some five second handshake— he actually has the sole attention of all of her focus. It’s mesmerizing. It’s the best day of his life. It’s also the worst, though, because Taka-chan is looking at him like he’s the delinquent that cornered her sweet and innocent kouhai in a back alleyway and got in a fight with her. 

Which is true. But entirely taken out of context!

Fortunately Yuuki-chan clearly has no hard feelings over the whole matter, because she hastens to explain what’s going on before Taka-chan can call the police. 

The light of his life still looks at him warily, but at the very least she’s no longer looking like she’s about to pepper-spray him in the face. 

At Taka-chan’s insistence, they’re finally talking it all out like reasonable people instead of devolving right into fists. Todo would prefer the fist fighting, frankly. 

He learns that Yuuki-chan— whom he recognizes now as the darling baby of Pastel Palettes, the idol group Taka-chan belongs to— is not only just an idol, and supposedly the younger sister to the half-human special grade, but also the vessel of Sukuna. Ryomen Sukuna, the King of Curses, who apparently saved Taka-chan’s life (and the lives of countless humans) during the Shibuya incident! Yuuki-chan knows Choso— the half-curse, or half-human, whatever— was fighting on the wrong side during that event, but insists he wasn’t doing it out of any particular ill will. She also swears he’s turned sides, to which Choso earnestly agrees. Although, that’s for a given definition of ‘side’, because Todo isn’t exactly sure which ‘side’ Yuuki is on. 

On the one hand, she’s a human teenage girl living the (relatively) normal life of a non-curse user. She doesn’t necessarily hate curses, but she doesn’t like needless violence, murder and mayhem, which is generally what most curses stand for. In fact she’s definitely the embodiment of the Pastel Palettes catchphrase, which is ‘to make the world smile’. Her dream is to be the type of idol that inspires others to be the best they can be. She’s so wholesome it actually brings a tear to Todo’s eye. He honestly didn’t think he’d find someone as perfect as Taka-chan, but Yuuki is pretty close! They’re even the same size! (Well, almost. Yuuki-chan is a bit lacking in the chest department in comparison, but according to her fanbook she’s also only sixteen so there’s still time!) Todo perhaps should have given Taka-chan’s groupmates more than a cursory glance, but he’s always been a Taka-chan fan and when she joined an idol group he hadn’t been all that interested in getting to know the other members. 

At any rate, Yuuki is a sweet and kind girl who brings happiness to others— and she’s also the first known vessel of the most monstrous curse to ever exist. 

Purely by Jujutsu Law, Todo should be trying his hardest to execute her. 

But he honestly doubts he’d be able to. He might be a first-grade Curse User, but Ryomen Sukuna is the King of Curses, and is also thirteen fingers strong. And he likes Yuuki too, is the problem. Even if Taka-chan hadn’t finagled an earnest promise to care for her kouhai out of him, he doesn’t think he’d have it in him to try to hurt her for real. 

After they all level with each other, Taka-chan makes the executive group decision to head to a family restaurant instead of continuing to argue in an alleyway.

Todo has the blessed experience of getting to sit in a booth across from Taka-chan (even if that means he has to sit on the same side as this special-grade half-human) and watch her go to town on a plate of fries. She’s everything he’s ever dreamed. He could die a happy man here. It still seems so surreal, that he went to exorcise a curse and ended up meeting both the love of his life and Sukuna’s vessel. 

Sukuna’s vessel— Taka-chan’s fellow groupmate, and apparently a Jujutsu Tech hopeful.

“You want to join Jujutsu Tech?” Todo clarifies, surprised.

“Yeah,” Yuuki confirms, around her smoothie. 

He leans back in the booth, eyes wide. “But why? Jujutsu Society won’t accept you.”

Yuuki rolls her eyes extravagantly. “Why would I care if they accept me? It’s not as if I’m lacking in fans.” 

Taka-chan gives her fellow idol a long, unimpressed look. Yuuki snags a fry out of the basket, adopting a doe-eyed look. “What? It’s not as if that’s untrue.”

“Yes, but a bit beside the point, don’t you think?” Taka-chan sighs, aggrieved. 

“I don’t mean to say you won’t be popular, Yuuki-chan— although that is true. I mean they will not accept your existence, and will attempt to execute you.” Todo clarifies, gravely.

Taka-chan drops her fry with an alarmed expression. Choso clenches his tray so hard it snaps.  Meanwhile, Yuuki-chan doesn’t look particularly surprised. Or concerned. 

“They can try,” she replies, glibly. 

“Yuuki-chan!” Takada hisses. “This is serious!”

Taka-chan is right, but Yuuki’s reaction isn’t entirely off the mark. Jujutsu Society will not accept Yuuki— but there also isn’t much they can do about her at this point, either. The only sorcerer who would likely have any real chance of killing Sukuna now was Gojo Satoru. Barring that, perhaps Okkotsu. And from what he knows of both of them, he doesn’t think either of them will be all that keen on executing an innocent young girl like this because of archaic societal laws. 

Yuuki slurps at her smoothie. She then puts it down with a satisfied sigh, sprawling back next to Taka-chan (touching her shoulder! Todo is dying with envy.) “If they want me dead, they’re free to try. But isn’t it better if I’m alive? I can hold Sukuna at bay after all, and the only way to permanently destroy him is to kill his vessel, right?”

Todo nods. “Yes, that’s true.”

“So wouldn’t it make more sense to wait until I’ve consumed all twenty fingers, then execute me?” Yuuki points out, rationally. “But in order to stay alive long enough for that, I’ll probably need some kind of training. Becoming a Jujutsu Sorcerer myself just seems like the most straightforward way to do it.” 

It sounds a lot like playing with a kerosene fire just for the fun of it. Something too risky to be undertaken so cavalierly. 

Something that sounds exactly up Gojo Satoru’s alley. 

Todo sighs. 

☆

Yuuki gives an impressed whistle when they finally make it up to the school. The entire campus has a very stately, traditional feel. She almost feels as if she’s about to film for a period drama or something! Come to think of it, this campus would make an excellent film location. Too bad it’s only accessible to Jujutsu sorcerers. 

Todo leads her up to the main gates, a large and domineering wooden structure that even manages to dwarf the enormous man. 

“I will honor my promise to Taka-chan and protect you.” Todo swears, gravely, as they ascend the staircase. “But please be careful, Yuuki-chan. Jujutsu Sorcerers are dangerous, and they are an… odd bunch.”

Pot, kettle. Yuuki mentally snorts.

“They may just try to exorcise you first and ask questions later.”

“This simp has a point, Yuuki.” Sukuna agrees. “These Sorcerers might be small fry, but there’s a lot of them. Don’t let any of them get the drop on you.”

Yuuki refrains from rolling her eyes at the irony of Sukuna calling someone else a simp, and just nods along. She also refrains from reminding the King of Curses that this was all his idea to begin with— and that she gave up a free day for this nonsense! Everything about Jujutsu Sorcerery already seems like too much work, and she hasn’t even really gotten started yet. But just getting to the school was already such a hassle. 

First of all, Choso utterly refused the idea of her going at all. Or doing anything that might put her in danger. Again, it was mildly sweet, but also super annoying. It took Yuuki the better part of the day to convince her ‘brother’ to stay with Maya, Takada and Chisato and act as their bodyguard. After that she had to go about convincing Takada that it was a good idea— her leader was already scandalized at the idea of people wanting to execute her, and she was even less enthused at the idea of Yuuki willingly going to them. Hence, how she finagled a solemn promise out of her number one fanboy to take care of her kouhai and keep her safe. Todo, predictably, took this like a samurai would an order from his lord, swearing to protect her or die trying — which sounded excessive at the time, but for all Yuuki knew might actually be pretty on the mark.

Then there was the tedious circus of reaching campus in general; it was technically within the limits of Tokyo, but calling it part of Tokyo really was a stretch. It was out in the sticks, requiring a bus route and two line changes on the Toei transit alone, plus another on the Tokyo Metro system proper. Yuuki was seriously regretting agreeing to Sukuna’s plan— the logistics just weren’t lining up here. She was an idol! She barely had any time to herself to begin with, let alone time for a commute like this! It’s true her management will allow schedule flexibility for school, which will give her some leeway, but this is really pushing it. 

It was doing the most, to put it mildly. 

“I gotcha,” she replies, stuffing her hands into her jacket pockets. “So what do we do? Just walk in?”

He nods. “Once we reach the main entrance, I’ll have you wait by the gates until I can fetch one of the staff. Best not to overwhelm anyone.”

A mouth manifests on Yuuki’s cheek, grin wide and salacious. “Too late for that!” 

“Wha— Sukuna!” Yuuki chokes, surprised. 

He’s made himself scarce recently, so she accidentally slaps his mouth shut on instinct. Todo stares at her with a wide-eyed look of alarm, but she doesn’t pay it any attention because— something weird happens to her. It feels like pressure being released all at once; like when she cracks her neck and feels all the tension leave her shoulders, or a nice stretch after a long day of dancing. It’s not unpleasant— the opposite, really. It also makes something unfurl in the air that she swears is tangible, like a plume of dark smoke erupting out of a volcano. It’s surprisingly explosive, for something that felt rather relaxing. 

“Sorry about that,” she says to Todo, hand still on her cheek. “He does that sometimes.” 

Todo scratches the back of his neck, look rather puzzled. “I see. How interesting.” He peers at her. “He has quite the aura— entirely separate from your own. He hides it then?”

She shrugs. “I guess so.” 

Fortunately, Todo looks more curious than disturbed. He thumbs his chin, scrutinizing her. “He’s this strong, and yet you have total control. It’s impressive.”

“Eh? Ah, thank you!” It’s odd— Yuuki is an idol, she receives the gratitude and adoration of her fans on a daily basis, and yet the genuineness of a single compliment always catches her off guard.

She laughs, rubbing her neck. “I don’t really think I’m doing much, though?”

Todo just shakes his head. “You do more than you know.”

☆

Satoru had expected a long and tedious circus of research, inadvisable internet stalking of complete and total strangers, and weird trips to weirder places, before maybe, eventually (probably accidentally) stumbling upon the lead to find his mystery girl— and in the end she finds him.

He doesn’t even need his Six Eyes to know she’s here, her aura of cursed energy is the most menacing thing he’s ever felt, spreading through Tengen’s barrier like a dark plume of smoke. He’s fairly sure the whole campus is aware of her. He has to appreciate the style, honestly. The King of Curses knows how to make one hell of an entrance, that’s for sure.

When he teleports to the front stairs though, the person that meets him is… decidedly not the King of Curses.

Oh, it’s definitely the same girl from Shibuya. And the same cursed energy. But everything else about her is… wrong.

First of all, she appears to be happily engaged in conversation with Todo Aoi of all people (how did that happen? What’s he even doing here anyway?), all big laughs and grand gestures. Everything about her behavior and posture is the exact opposite of what Satoru remembers from Shibuya. There’s no way this is Sukuna. Even if the curse was that good of an actor, nothing about his personality speaks of having the sort of patience it would take to pull off this kind of lie. 

But then she spies him out of the corner of her eye, and recognition lights in her eyes. “Ah! Gojo-san!”

He narrows his eyes behind his blindfold, even as he takes his cue from her and waves back, as if they know each other or something. Do they know each other? They certainly do, if this is actually Sukuna. His Six Eyes, surprisingly, are not particularly helpful in giving him a definitive answer. They’re telling him this is Sukuna, or at least, the cursed energy radiating off her in thick waves belongs to the King of Curses. 

“Somehow, despite what my Six Eyes want to tell me…” He tugs his blindfold up on one side to examine her with his actual sight. Yep. That smile that brightens her face and crinkles her eyes— there’s no way in hell this is Sukuna. “You’re not actually Ryomen Sukuna, are you?”

She shakes her head. “Nope! I’m Itadori Yuuki!”

He blinks, pausing. 

Hold on. 

Itadori… Yuuki? Why does that sound familiar. Come to think of it, why does she look familiar? 

“We met once in Tokyo Dome, after Taka-chan and I were attacked by all those curses!”

Ah, there it is. The piece he was missing.

No wonder I thought Sukuna was cute enough to be an idol… he actually IS an idol!! 

Todo gasps, horrified. “Taka-chan was attacked by curses?!”

“Don’t worry, this darling pastel pink kouhai obviously saved her~” Yuuki grins cheekily, throwing up a peace sign. “I would never let anything happen to my precious Taka-chan!”

Todo looks on the verge of tears. He turns the girl with two large hands dwarfing her shoulders, until they are face to face. 

“Itadori Yuuki, you are the only one perfect enough to stand by Taka-chan’s side.” He says, gravely. “Tonight we shall swear a Sakazuki bond to protect her and become brother and sister.”

Yuuki blinks rapidly. “E— Eh?”

“Maybe I could have a word with her before that, Todo-kun?” Satoru cuts in, waving his hand between them. “I imagine you two didn’t come all this way just for sightseeing and some good old brotherhood swearing, right?”

“Gojo-san is right, Todo-kun!” Also, who in the fuck still swears Sakazuki sake cups? Does he think they’re in the Yakuza or something??? “Of course I’ll protect Taka-chan, but I’d be better at it if I was a Jujutsu Sorcerer, ya know?”

Satoru pauses. What is this about Jujutsu Sorcerery?

Before he can ask, Yuuki pulls herself out of Todo’s grip and turns to face him and give him a very formal bow. “Gojo-san, I actually came here because I have a request for you.”

“A request?” He repeats, brow raised. He shoves his hands in his pockets. “Sure, I’ll hear you out, but I won’t promise anything else.”

“That’s fine!” She grins, so brightly and brilliantly earnest he feels like he needs to look away. 

He ends up carefully avoiding her eyes and fixating on her outfit instead. It’s understandably fabulous but still understated for an idol— not that he knows what idols wear on their off days or anything, but the glaring lack of glitter and unwieldly heels is enough to make an educated guess—trendy colorful Nike sneakers that don’t look like they provide any kind of support aside from the fashionable kind; a scandalously short plaid mini skirt confirming the fact that she is, indeed, all leg; a tight-fitted crop shirt that would be showing off a truly generous amount of skin if it wasn't tucked underneath an oversized, black— 

His eyes widen. 

Yuuki blushes when she sees what his eyes have fixated on. “O— Oh! I also, um, wanted to return your jacket…” 

It’s not as if he doesn’t remember the exact incident that led to him giving away his jacket in the first place, and yet somehow seeing it again is positively flooring. Like it makes the entire situation real again, brushing away the absurdity of it all to remind him just what is going on here. 

This cute girl is not just an adorable off-duty idol coming to return his jacket— because he never gave it to her at all. He gave it to Sukuna, the King of Curses. The most ruthless and violent curse to have ever existed, who defied all of his expectations. 

And yet, the one returning it to him is not the double-faced specter, but the idol and youngest member of the girl group Pastel Palettes. 

He has so many questions he wants answered, and he thinks this might be a perfect opportunity to at least have one of them answered. 

“No, no, keep it Yuuki-chan. It was a gift, after all.”

The sakura-haired girl blinks. Then her smile lowers into something mischievous. “Ah? But it wasn’t really a gift for me, was it, Gojo-san~?”

It’s his turn to blink. Huh. So she was aware of that encounter. Is she aware of everything Sukuna does in her body? Does she allow it? Or is it the other way around, and it’s only in this moment that she actually has control? Satoru has money on the former; there’s no way in hell Sukuna would go so far as to maintain his cover as an idol, of all things. That’s definitely all Yuuki— and that’s likely 90% of her day to day life, so it’s pretty fair to assume Yuuki is the one in control, and Sukuna just gets some occasional screen time. 

“True!” Satoru agrees, cheerfully. "But it looks a lot cuter on you, Yuuki-chan!”

Surprisingly, this actually gets the girl to blush. “E— Eh? Oh, thanks.” Huh. You'd think as an idol, she wouldn't get flustered so easily at compliments like that.

He claps his hands. “So, you said you had something to ask of me?”

☆

They wave off Todo when he spies some fellow students his own age— a boy with a high collar and white hair, a girl with glasses, and an honest to God walking panda of all things— which is probably for the best because she glossed over a lot of her reasonings with Todo intentionally, but won't be able to do the same to Gojo. Obviously. He’s supposed to be her executioner. She asks if it’s okay to talk to him privately, and he just sort of shrugs glibly and waltzes off to lead them somewhere. He’s a hard person to read, especially when he has his blindfold on.

It’s a bit disconcerting, actually. Yuuki hadn’t felt intimidated by him at all when he and Sukuna had met in Shibuya, but then again she hadn’t actually had to interact with him. She was just providing unhelpful and sometimes amusing commentary for Sukuna, like the terrible back-seat driver she was. Having to face him on her own, in person, is actually kind of scary.

But she’s not alone, she reminds herself. Sukuna is definitely here with her.

She wonders when his presence started being so comforting, and what it means that she finds it so reassuring. 

Come to think of it, talking to Sukuna has somehow become an integral part of her warm-up routine. Explaining things to him or just bugging him before a big show, recording, or tv special helps calm her nerves. Yuuki hadn’t realized how much she’s come to rely on him as an abrasive and moody sounding board until this moment, when she wishes he was actually corporal so she could… could, like, hold his hand or something ridiculous like that. The thought is absurd. Sukuna would sooner fling her out the window than voluntarily hold her hand. 

Yuuki does spare a fleeting thought on switching with him, though. That would be nice. Sukuna and Gojo-san were… equals, in a way. Sukuna wasn’t intimidated by anything or anyone, and definitely not this white-haired sorcerer.

“— Yuuki-chan? Earth to Yuuki-chan~”

Yuuki startles abruptly, coming to a halt as they enter what looks like a teacher’s lounge. It has dark couches and leather chairs, a long line of windows, and a few vending machines shoved into a corner. Yuuki awkwardly folds into one of the chairs, and Gojo-san sprawls out on the sofa across from her. 

“Ah, sorry. Got lost in thought.”

“With Sukuna?” He asks, not missing a beat.

“Eh?” Yuuki blinks, then shakes her head. “Oh, no. No, just my own this time.”

He taps his chin, considering. “Do you talk with him often?”

The tips of her ears turn red as she looks away. “Sometimes.” 

“Really? That’s fascinating,” he leans forward, all long limbs and graceful fingers as he rests his chin in his hand. “What do you guys talk about?”

Yuuki leans back a bit, flustered by the sudden proximity. “Err— well, nothing in particular, I guess? Sometimes he’ll ask questions about what I’m doing at that particular moment, or he’ll have unflattering commentary about the people around me.”

Gojo-san grins viciously. “Is that so? What’s he saying about me?”

Yuuki opens her mouth, about to respond that Sukuna hasn’t actually said anything about him yet, when a mouth manifests on her cheek and does it for her. 

“Who says I have anything to say about ya, huh?” If Gojo-san is surprised by the sudden emerging of a literal mouth below her eye, he hides it supremely well. “You’re a real egotistical bastard aren'tcha, Six Eyes?"

Gojo-san laughs. “Do you mean to tell me you’re any different, Sukuna?” 

Sukuna opens his mouth, likely to retort something scathing, so Yuuki cuts that off before they can get even more side-tracked with a resounding palm to her face. 

“Sorry, Gojo-san, we’re getting a little off topic here.” Yuuki interrupts, before they end up devolving into insults or something.

“Right, right~ you had something to ask of me.” He agrees, sprawling back in his seat, one leg crossed at the ankle over the other. He somehow manages to look both like an artless heap of limbs while still managing to pull off that ‘model-off-duty’ aesthetic. Yuuki is lowkey jealous. “You know, that’s pretty bold of you, Yuuki-chan.”

She drags her eyes back up to his face. “Really? Why?”

“Well, here you are requesting something of me when really I should be executing you on the spot!” He replies, cheerfully.

Yuuki, for her part, doesn’t really react to the threat either. She tilts her head. “Really? Will you?”

“Probably not now!” He concedes, blithely. His jovial veneer drops for a moment, revealing something far more austere below. “But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

There doesn’t really seem to be any reason to lie to him.

Yuuki shrugs. “I had guessed.” 

“How many fingers have you found?”

“Thirteen.” 

Again, if he has any reaction to that number, he doesn’t let it show in his expression nor his posture. Actually, he’s grinning widely. “Oh my! How unlucky!”

Sukuna appears on her cheek again. “It worked out pretty damn lucky for you in Shibuya, didn’t it?” He drawled. 

Yuuki frowns, not understanding the reference.

“Very true!” Gojo-san returns, brightly. “And I wasn’t the only one, was I? Megumi told me a really interesting story about how he was saved from the brink of death by an unknown party…”

If the King of Curses was capable of being embarrassed— which he absolutely was not, of course not, who do you think you are to even suggest something like that, how dare you be so cavalier— he’d definitely be getting flustered right now. Fortunately he doesn’t have control over her body right now, so no one would ever know if he was. Except Yuuki, who can occasionally feel his emotions leak through her consciousness when they happen to be particularly strong (which they’re not right now, because he’s not feeling anything, not at all). 

Gojo-san makes a show of peering upwards and rubbing his chin; a dramatically ponderous look that’s sort of ruined by the fact she can’t actually see his eyes right now. “And then there was the mysterious incident with the curtain breaking— everyone assumed it was me, you know, which is flattering but entirely untrue. Which does beg the question; if it wasn’t me, who freed all those people?” 

“Maybe it was just your friendly neighborhood spiderman?”

“I’d believe it— if this was New York.”

Yuuki shrugs. “I don’t know what to say, Gojo-san— does it really matter who did all that?”

“It matters a lot, in fact.” The white-haired man returns. “Because curses don’t do such altruistic things without reason— and generally, that reason is self-centered and nefarious. So I want to know the exact decision making process that went on there.”

Yuuki worries at her bottom lip, anxious but trying her level best to retain an outer expression of confidence. She knows that she has to be the one that talks to Gojo, that she has to be the one to ask and to make it all seem genuine because of this specific issue right here: no matter what Sukuna’s motives are, Gojo will never trust them. Frankly, Yuuki doesn’t really trust them all that much either, but at least for now both she and Sukuna are staunchly in the camp that keeps Yuuki alive through this mess. 

But damn, does she wish she could switch places with her resident demonic tenant. Gojo-san is… intense. 

Excessively energetic in one moment, sharply focused the next— even with that blindfold on, it seems like he’s profoundly aware of his surroundings and everything in them, including her. Sitting across from him is way worse than any one on one interview she’s ever had before. At least she’s been trained as an idol to handle those situations. 

Still, Yuuki has never been one to back down just because she’s intimidated, and she’s not going to start now. 

She curls her hands nervously against her knees, but still looks him in the eye as she says; “I’ll explain it as best I can, Gojo-san, but in return I’d like you to hear me out on my request.”

“Again with the request, huh?” He says, breezily. “Fine, fine. Let’s hear it then.” 

☆

Living through that night in Shibuya through Yuuki’s eyes is nothing short of fascinating. To be fair, everything about Yuuki is pretty fascinating, but the bewildering turn of events during Halloween was just an entirely new level of surreal. 

Then again, this is the teenage girl who swallowed one of Sukuna’s fingers entirely on accident while trying to save herself and her friend the night before their big concert. 

And in the process, became the first known vessel of the King of Curses. 

And yet— she’s still the one in control. Thirteen fingers later and Yuuki is no closer to giving in to Sukuna than she had been at one finger. The only reason Sukuna had managed to take over during the Shibuya Incident was because one of Geto’s old accomplices was looking for revenge against Kamo Noritoshi and his ragtag gang of curses, and intended to use Sukuna to do it. That apparently spectacularly backfired, because telling the King of Curses what to do is forever just a bad idea. 

Aside from offhandedly mentioning disposing of the two girls who attempted to permanently resurrect him and shortly thereafter the Mt. Fuji looking special-grade, Sukuna doesn’t speak again on the matter. 

From Yuuki’s perspective, there is a glaring hole in her memories from the time she walked down to the subway, to the moment she woke up again as Sukuna was saving Megumi. She could at least confirm that it was Sukuna who punctured the barrier— “He’s Taka-chan’s number one fanboy, he can’t just let his best girl get hurt.” Yuuki says, like that’s supposed to be some kind of explanation, which is the best thing Satoru’s heard all week— and Sukuna who interrupted the Shikigami ritual between Megumi and Mahoranga— or ‘ the Evangelion wannabe that was so ugly even Anno-sensei rejected him’ as Yuuki so helpfully referred to him as. 

Honestly, he was giving the girl a rough time on it, but his decision was made long before she walked in here. 

Sukuna’s reemergence in the modern era was, fundamentally, a catalyst of chaos. Kamo Noritoshi had already made plans to utilize Sukuna’s presence to further his own agenda. Risky to be sure, but a gamble that could pay itself off in spades. Meanwhile, the parochial and archaic Jujutsu society would rather see Sukuna killed off right away without even thinking of possible outcomes. Although Satoru was being generous, to even assume there was any thinking going on up there at all. There were just a bunch of greedy old men uninterested in any kind of progression of society and obsessed with keeping their status. 

But, you see, Satoru could see a kindred spirit when it saved his sorry ass from eternal prison/purgatory, and as a fellow agent of chaos tossed onto this world by the heavens like a pair of mismatched dice, he thought they could do great things together. 

He doesn’t think for a second that Sukuna’s rationale for his actions was anything approaching benevolent, or even remotely good-natured— but he performed those actions nonetheless. And it was inarguable fact that the King of Curses saved thousands of lives that night, intentional or not. One of those lives being a) his own (sort of) and b) the life of his precious student. It’s not like he feels indebted to the King of Curses or anything, but he does admit to an open sort of curiosity. 

And then there was his relationship with his host— and the fact that he had one at all. Satoru had been under the firm belief that Sukuna had overtaken his host and was acting under his own power, not entirely unlike the Cursed Death Womb special grades. Yuuki had summarily proved that wrong with her entire existence. Frankly, Satoru should have been right, and Yuuki was just a bizarre and abnormal impossibility. Still, impossible or not Yuuki’s existence continued, and under the current circumstances Satoru would have expected the two of them to be… constantly at odds with each other. From what he’s seen, they not only seem to have a civil working relationship, they might actually even be… friends? No, no; they’re hardly enemies, but he would hardly call them friends.

Amicable roommates, he decides, which is a little on the nose but pretty damn accurate. 

Yuuki is the friendly and upbeat landlord who’s renting out her basement to a surly and uncharitable old man. That they can coexist at all is bizarre, let alone get along, but the evidence is squarely in front of him.

Because Yuuki is lying to him, for Sukuna.

And Sukuna— perhaps entirely out of self-preservation, perhaps not— is protecting her.

Oh, she's certainly not lying about what happened in Shibuya. She has no reason to. But her motives for voluntarily revealing herself when she had remained anonymous up until now? Very suspect. Of course she might just be cutting her losses and conceding to the reality that her days hidden were numbered. But it was just as likely that she (or more likely, Sukuna) wanted to strike while the iron was hot and get the drop on Jujutsu Society while they were still floundering around after the catastrophe last week. After all, the Jujutsu World would be in absolute ruins if Satoru had actually been sealed, with how many shamans were now injured or dead. Now would be the perfect opportunity to make use of that weakness.

Sukuna definitely has an agenda for being here, and Yuuki is just going along with it. Satoru can't exactly blame her; Sukuna is in a position to have reason to protect her, while Jujutsu Society very obviously wants her dead. In light of that, why wouldn't she help Sukuna?

As to what that agenda might be… well, he has some ideas. But nothing concrete. So the logical thing to do would be to keep them as close to himself as possible; keep your friends close, and your enemies closer, and all that jazz.

“Um, Gojo-san…” She starts, tentatively, reminding him that she finished talking a while ago and he’s been just staring at her in silence for who knows how long. 

He waves her off with a disarming grin. “No need to be so formal, Yuuki-chan! Just call me sensei~” 

She blinks those big doe eyes at him. “... What?”

“Well, if you’re going to be a student here, then I’ll be your sensei!” He enthuses. 

She looks utterly flabbergasted. “You— you… really? I can be a student here?”

“Yep!” He claps his hands. “That’s what you’re here for, isn’t it? You want to become a Jujutsu Sorcerer?”

She blinks rapidly, looking astounded at his complete about face from stoic and completely unreadable to chipper and borderline manic. 

“Well yes, but,” her brow furrows. “Can you really just make a decision just like that?”

He smiles lazily at her. “Sure. Who’s going to stop me?”

A lot of people will try, certainly, and they'll make grouchy noises and say uncharitable things about him, but ultimately they're helpless to stop him.

Yuuki leans back in her chair, clearly conceding his point. “Oh. Uh. Okay then…” She nibbles anxiously at her bottom lip. “But I can’t stop being an idol, so I’m not really sure how being a student here’s going to work.”

“Can’t or won’t?” Because he’s aware of some of the more suspect contracts in that industry, and it’s very possible a young girl with no family or anyone to look out for her like Yuuki might be conned into signing something against her best interests. 

Yuuki ponders on it. “Won’t.” She answers, which is a relief. 

The idea of some nameless, faceless omnipotent organization taking advantage of such a sweet girl doesn’t sit well with him. 

Satoru’s chin nearly slips off his palm. 

Did he really just think that? 

Well shit. So much for not getting attached. 

“You won’t have to stop being an idol,” he says, once he’s recovered himself from that minor internal crisis. “Honestly, we call it a school, but we use that term relatively loosely. We actually don’t hold classes all that often— and never with any regularity!”

The pink-haired girl stares blankly at him. “... Ah?”

“In fact, there’s only two other students in your year!”

The blank look intensifies. “... Ah??”

He raises a hand. “And I’m in charge of them! So call me sensei, okay?~” 

Her jaw drops. “What kind of school is this?!” She asks, perplexed. 

“That’s just the Jujutsu Sorcerery world for you.” Satoru explains, shrugging. “How many people do you know that can see curses? It’s not a lot of people, ya know.”

Yuuki’s expression looks torn between belligerence and despair. He wonders if it's even possible for her to have an unattractive expression, because really that should not look as cute as it does— she’s probably even a pretty crier, he digresses. Honestly. People like that are just the worst. Even he’s not a pretty crier! (Not that he cries, ever, but it’s the sentiment.) 

“And your poor sensei is the strongest, he’s always being called away to take care of things no one else can,” he continues on, affecting a put upon sigh. “Ahhh, he’s just so busy, you know? He can’t always be around to teach you.”

“I see,” Yuuki nods. Then she smiles brightly at him; “Well, in that case, I’ll try to be the best student possible for you, sensei~ ♡” 

Oh. 

Oh no.

Satoru has made a grave mistake. 

Yuuki blinks up at him, like the sweet and darling young idol she is, all big eyes and youthful innocence— looking positively adorable, all wrapped up in his jacket. And running around calling him sensei in what sounds like the same tone of voice she probably uses for love confessions in TV drama scenes. 

He buries his face in his hands. 

“Sensei? What’s wrong?”

“Ahaha— nothing’s wrong, Yuuki-chan,” he laughs weakly. He’s just never going to be able to hear the word ‘sensei’ again without unwillingly thinking terrible thoughts about a girl almost half his age. “While you’re here, why don’t we see who’s around and introduce you?”

She at first looks a little apprehensive at the prospect, but after a moment just nods and then torments him with yet another big and earnest smile. “Sure, whatever you want, sensei~” 

Oh boy. He’s going to hell for this. 

☆

(Meanwhile: 

“Just keep calling him Sensei, Yuuki.” Sukuna encourages, with a sadistic sort of eagerness he usually only reserves for mutilating other curses.

“Uh…” Yuuki trails off, rather perplexed. “But I’m not even really his student yet?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Sukuna insists, emphatically. “Just keep it up.”)

Chapter Text

☆ 

LOVE ACTUALLY

☆ 

Nobara is in love.

No, really.

Shut up, Fushiguro. She knows her own feelings. She’s a professional lesbian, okay. If she says she’s in love with Pastel Palettes’ pastel pink charm, then she damn well is. 

Peripherally, it’s very easy to be a fan of them. They debuted last year under Star Idol Group— the premier management company for basically any idol worth their salt— and have been a national sensation ever since. Well Nobara might be exaggerating a bit there, but it’s fair to say they’ve achieved a level of fame that’s impressive in the crowded girl group space. 

A lot of that can be chalked up to having Nobuko Takada as their group leader. 

For the record, she was a Takada fan first, but Itadori Yuuki definitely won herself a spot in her heart very soon after she debuted. 

Takada just has an unshakeable brand and a confidence nothing short of awe-inspiring. She’s also been in the industry since she was Yuuki’s age, so she’s had a lot of time to build on her successes and streamline her idol persona. She’s not your typical idol, which is what makes her so astronomically popular; taller than most men in her heels, of which she never wears anything less than 4 cm; sporting her natural healthy tan in an era drowning in skin whitening products; always hitting the perfect note between ‘I don’t give a fuck about what you think’ and, ‘I’m the sweetest, cutest idol you’ll never be worthy of meeting in person’. She’s got personality. More to the point— she can have personality. She has the fame and notoriety to back it up.

Yuuki doesn’t have that yet, so it’s no surprise she toes the straight and narrow of the industry standard a little more than her leader.

Nobara realizes though, within minutes of meeting her (as a fellow Jujutsu Tech student? What???) that her bubbly and effervescent personality is not actually just an industry-approved ruse, but in fact is just her natural state of existence. She is not just lying and hamming it for the camera; she actually is just this upbeat in person. No drugs involved! Wild. 

She’s also the most outgoing of the group, forever the fan favorite for any and all game shows, the first to try something new and the first to laugh it off when she spectacularly fails. She has the sort of energy Nobara can only hope to achieve after several cups of espresso. And she has the sort of athleticism that makes both dancing and ninja obstacle shows look effortless. 

And she’s incredibly stylish. Really, what’s there not to like?

Anyway it’s a little weird to see her so suddenly and abruptly in person, casually dropping in on practice as if it’s not utterly surreal to see her there, standing next to Gojo-sensei. Weird, but also awesome.

“Wait, so your hair color is actually real?” Nobara boggles, after she’s done internally gushing over her. 

Yuuki nods, looking rather bashful.

It’s so adorable, Nobara wants to die. She tugs a lock of sakura-pink hair over her shoulder and winds it around her finger in such a sweetly nervous gesture she’d think it was practiced but is fairly sure is just all natural Yuuki. The color is really something— definitely the sort of eye-catching iridescent pink one would want as an idol, and the length is positively impressive. 

“Um, yes, actually!” She laughs self-deprecatingly. “It’s a bit weird, isn’t it?”

“You’re standing next to a guy with albino-white hair,” Maki-senpai cuts in, droll as ever, swinging her staff up over her shoulder. “Don’t worry, you’ll fit right in here.”

“And it’s so long and healthy!” Nobara squints at it, swishing all shiny and smooth over her shoulder. 

“Thanks! Most of it is fake.” 

“Ahhhh,” both Nobara and Maki make understandably impressed noises, to the collective bewilderment of all the boys. What the hell would they know about the difficulties of extensions, though. And to dance with them on like she does? Incredible.

Fushiguro looks between the three of them with a confused frown. “Do you all know each other?”

Nobara face palms. Maki sighs. 

In Fushiguro’s defense, Gojo-sensei didn’t actually clear things up very much here. He just came up all, ‘Heyoo~ this is Yuuki-chan, she’s joining the first years! Be nice okay?’ And then literally explained nothing else. And considering he was a self-proclaimed fan of their group, there was no way he wasn’t aware of who she was. Fushiguro probably doesn’t even know what an idol is, so he really can’t be expected to remember a girl he’d run into for a few minutes almost a year ago now, famous popstar or not. Nobara of course recognized her immediately, because she was still annoyed she hadn’t had the opportunity for an autograph all those months ago at Tokyo Dome. Now she’d have plenty of opportunities though, because they’re going to be classmates! The world works in strange ways. 

“She’s Itadori Yuuki.” Maki says, as if that’s supposed to be enlightening to these unlearned heathens. 

Predictably, Fushiguro just frowns further. “... Okay?”

“This is the reaction of a man with no taste,” Todo despairs, from where he’s still lying on the ground after a spar with Panda-senpai.

“Riiiight?” Gojo-sensei drawls, smirking. 

Nobara rolls her eyes. “I don’t want to hear that from you, Gojo-sensei. Your taste in clothing says it all.”

“So rude!” The white-haired man gasps, affecting a look of deep offense. “I’ll have you know I’m plenty fashionable, right, right, Yuuki-chan?”

He sprawls over his newest student like the overgrown cat-masquerading-as-a-human he is, dramatically mopey. 

Yuuki, for her part, just blinks up at him with a cute little confused furrow to her brow, looking as if she’s actually considering the question seriously. Sweet darling child— they’ll have to rectify this immediately. No one should ever take Gojo seriously, least of all his students. 

“Yeah I guess so,” Yuuki concedes, thoughtful. “People ask me all the time if this jacket is Comme des Garcons. ”

Nobara’s mouth drops open. Wait. 

Why is she wearing Gojo’s jacket?!

Yuuki frowns, considering. “I’m not really sure if that’s really a compliment or not though? Some of their stuff is pretty defiantly crazy-looking.” 

Sensei throws his head back and laughs. “See? This is why Yuuki-chan is my favorite~”

To the surprise of literally no one, you creep, is the collective thought of everyone assembled, Nobara is fairly sure. Except for Todo, who is equally as creepy.

“Thanks, sensei~” Yuuki chirps back, happily. 

Oh god, there’s two of them.

Gojo perks back up like a cat after a nice chin scratch from its beloved owner. Nobara despairs. “Ah, well I guess I did forget to mention some things.”

“Oh really?” Maki returns, unimpressed.

“Tuna Mayo,” Inumaki agrees, which seems to surprise the students fluent in Inumaki-speak.

“Fan?” Panda repeats, for those who are not capable of deciphering his sushi ingredients. “What do you mean, Toge-kun?”

“Salmon, salmon” he adds, making a little finger heart with a glint in his eye. Panda makes a noise of surprise.

“Someone translate, please,” Nobara whines. 

“Yuuki-chan is famous.” Panda says, which Nobara already knew. What she didn’t know though was; “Toge-kun is a big fan! Of Maya-chan though mostly, sorry Yuuki-chan.”

“Oh, no worries! I’m a fan of hers too!” Yuuki returns, not offended in the least. “Believe it or not, she’s even prettier in person.” 

Inumaki nods sagely. “Bonito.”

“He says not to worry, you are also very pretty in person.” Panda translates, dutifully.

“O— Oh really? That’s— thank you!” She blushes, rather prettily. 

Nobara cocks her head, scrutinizing her closely. Is she just blushing on command, or is she actually this shy taking a compliment? It has to be the former, because there’s just no way an idol could still get embarrassed about things like this. And yet, it looks so natural…

“What about Taka-chan?” Todo gasps, outraged.

Inumaki dips his head in his direction, intoning; “Kombu.” 

Whatever the hell that means, Todo takes it at face value, looking mollified when he nods back. 

Gojo claps his hands loudly, probably annoyed the attention isn’t on him anymore. “Right, yeah, that. So Yuuki-chan is an idol, so she’s not going to be around much, but when she is please help her out, yeah?”

Yuuki bows deeply towards them. “Thank you for taking care of me, everyone.” 

They all nod back with a chorus of greetings in response— the proper thing to do when first meeting someone, but of course Gojo totally derails that. 

“She’s also the vessel for Ryomen Sukuna though, so don’t go easy on her okay? She’s gotta learn fast!”

There is stunned, horrified silence from everyone assembled. 

Maki whips out a massive axe out of nowhere and launches it directly at Gojo’s head. Unfortunately, it bounces harmlessly off his Infinity, leaving his stupid face perfectly unharmed and now marred with his ‘kicked-puppy’ expression to top it off.

“Maki! How cruel! You could have hit Yuuki-chan!”

As if Maki-senpai would miss. Now Nobara’s mad too. 

Unsurprisingly Gojo just leans out of the way of her incoming nails. “Whaa! Nobara too? So cruel~”

“You deserve it you moron!” Fushiguro retorts, annoyed. “You couldn’t have led with that, maybe?”

“Eh? What for?” He affects an indolently ignorant look as he pats Yuuki’s head. 

“Well, it’s sort of important information.” Panda points out, mildly. 

“But Yuuki-chan is still Yuuki-chan!” Gojo pouts, like the overgrown manchild he is. He flings his noodly-octopus arms around his precious Yuuki-chan again, like a child in need of comfort. “Yuuki-chan, don’t you think they’re being too mean to me?”

Yuuki just peers up at him with her big honey eyes, and smiles wide enough to dimple her round cheeks. “Very mean,” she agrees. “Does sensei want a head pat~♡?”

It’s like she struck Gojo with lightning. Nobara takes it all back. Gojo is a raging dumpster fire that deserves his fate— and Yuuki is his perfect karma in every way. She and Maki share triumphant looks. This is going to be the start of a wonderful (revenge saga) friendship. For the first time since she met that lark of a manchild, Gojo actually looks at a loss for words. Actually, he looks a bit like he just put his finger in an electric socket and got the life zapped out of him.

“No, no, sensei is fine.” Hilariously, Gojo actually looks a bit flustered. Is he actually blushing under that ridiculous blindfold of his? Nobara is delighted by this turn of events. 

Nonetheless, he doesn’t move away. Actually, he just tugs Yuuki closer like she’s his personal waifu doll and plops his head on top of hers. Yuuki just sort of accepts it with the benign sort of grace she’d expect from an idol well-used to being stalked by a gaggle of creepy fans. “But see? Look how nice to me Yuuki-chan is! You all need to be nicer, you’ll never get girlfriends like this, ya know~” 

Ugh, gross. He’s got his tentacles (read: arms) all wrapped up around her like that’s perfectly okay despite the fact she’s half his age, and worse, she’s not even fighting him off! She just looks adorably confused, like she also thinks this is weird but is too trusting to say anything about it. Nobara is ready to roll up her sleeves and punt their pervy sensei straight out of the atmosphere, Infinity or no. 

“Enough, Gojo,” Megumi cuts in, aggrieved, before she can take a proper swing at him. “Stop assaulting a sixteen year-old girl and please try to act your age.” 

Sometimes, Nobara has to wonder if he and Nanami secretly get together and practice their ‘looks of disgust and disappointment in the face of Gojo Satoru’ or if this is just something that happens naturally to people who have to deal with the man on a regular basis. 

“Assaulting? How rude!" Gojo mocks offense, gasping. “I'll have you know I’m trying to prove a point here!” 

What, that you’re willing and capable of taking advantage of a sweet and innocent young girl’s kindness? —is what Nobara is fairly sure they’re all, collectively, thinking. 

Fushiguro crosses his arms. “The only point you’re proving is that all Jujutsu Sorcerers are weirdos, and you’re the worst of the lot.”

“Well I’m hardly going to deny it!” Gojo laughs, wagging his finger at them. “But really now, do you honestly think Ryomen Sukuna would ever let me do this?”

Well shit, he’s got them there.

It’s in brief— monumentally brief — moments like this that Nobara is reminded that this man is actually not an oversized goofy child, but actually in fact the strongest and most feared Jujutsu Sorcerer in the world, and for good reason. Oh, he definitely enjoys acting like a spoiled brat that just unfortunately somehow managed to live until adulthood, and a vast majority of that act is not, in fact, an act at all— but he’s also a sorcerer who’s seen unspeakable horrors and has had to carry more than his fair share of burdens. That doesn’t make him any less of a human dumpster fire, though.

“Yuuki-chan has an iron will as strong as her left hook.” Todo pipes in sagely, dusting himself off as he stands.

“Speaking from experience?” Maki asks, dryly.

Todo just nods sagely. “Yuuki-chan is a formidable opponent, in battles of both wills and physical prowess.” Then he begins to shed manly tears. “She is the only other worthy of being Taka-chan’s companion and protector.”

“Right, well,” Panda ignores the latter half of that with dexterous aplomb, “it’s very nice to meet you, Yuuki-chan. Welcome to Jujutsu Tech.”

"Salmon" Inumaki agrees, nodding. 

Maki waves lazily. “Yeah, sorry about… literally everyone. But especially Gojo. Don’t just let him do whatever he wants, okay? He could use that left hook of yours every once in a while.”  

Gojo whines in objection, but everyone ignores that on general principle. 

He’s let go of Yuuki now that he’s proven his point, and has returned to standing a perfectly respectable distance away with his hands in his pockets. He’s as unruffled and unflappable as ever, as if he hadn’t just been glomping a teenage idol a few seconds earlier. Nobara would definitely have believed that he really had been acting more extravagant than usual to really highlight the difference between Ryomen Sukuna and Itadori Yuuki, if the tips of his ears weren’t still a little red. Instead she just snickers under her breath and hides her shit-eating grin behind her hand. 

Oh, so he’d tried to be his usual tactless self that’s entirely inconsiderate of other people’s personal space, and in the end he fucking clowned himself when he ended up being the uncomfortable one? Amazing.

“I don’t care if you’re a vessel, your outfit is fire and we have to go shopping as soon as possible.” Nobara cuts in, eyes glinting. 

“What she said,” Fushiguro adds, and then blushes furiously when everyone turns to him in incredulity. “The— the first half!!” He hastens to clarify, flushing a brilliant red all the way to the tips of his ears. “About not caring if you’re a vessel or not! Not the shopping stuff!”

“Really? You could use a good wardrobe change.” Nobara counters, leaning in to prod at his flaming cheeks. Fushiguro’s not normally this discomposed, but in the face of a superstar like Yuuki-chan, maybe he’s just feeling a bit more demure than usual— huh, maybe he has good taste after all. 

☆ 

Okay, so maybe Satoru wasn’t as equipped to deal with Ryomen Sukuna (or Itadori Yuuki) as well as he thought he was, but he’s never been one to make plans, let alone stick to them. Improvisation is his best trait, probably second to being an irreverent asshole and confectionary enthusiast. 

He just feels a bit blindsided, is all.

He was expecting evil in its most vile and hideous form; instead he got the literal personification of sunshine, Pastel Palette’s pink charm, Itadori Yuuki. 

She lives up to her reputation and then some. 

He may have lied all those months ago, when he said he was a fan. Sort of. He is one, but only in a peripheral sense; Pastel Palettes is one of the rotating idol groups cast as guest stars for one of his favorite baking shows. Takada is enough of a superstar for people to know the group just on a name basis alone, but he can at least vaguely recall the group as a whole from their many tours on the show. He even recalls the particular taping where Yuuki was supposed to make a sakura flavored baumkuchen and ended up exploding it in the oven on live TV. But he spends most of that show staring dreamily at the desserts, not the idols, and his memory for names and faces has always been phenomenally bad. 

At any rate, he’d had to do a lot of late night googling after meeting her, which may have been a terrible idea in and of itself. 

She debuted as an idol only last year. At sixteen— turning seventeen in March— she’s the youngest in the group by at least half a decade, but has the maturity and talent to keep up with her much older and more experienced groupmates. In fact, just from watching them online he would have never guessed she was only sixteen; she acts a bit silly on game shows and certainly hams it up for the tv hosts, but there’s a sharpness to her answers and composure that makes her seem so much older. 

It's easy to see she’s strong and athletic— strong enough to land a hell of a left hook on Todo, apparently— with an innate flexibility and coordination that likely makes her both an excellent dancer and an excellent fighter. She also picks things up extraordinarily quickly— anything from random facts to dance sequences to arbitrary rules on game shows is fair game. These talents aren’t just beneficial to an idol; he has a feeling she’s going to make an incredible Jujutsu Sorcerer. And sure, a lot of that has to do with her abilities, but it also speaks to her resilience and strength of will. Not just anyone can swallow Ryomen Sukuna’s finger, and then turn around with a smile on their face and perform a concert. 

It’s a little anomalous, honestly, how well suited she is for the task of keeping the King of Curses at bay.

He makes a mental note between his death scrolling to have Ijichi try to dig up her background and history. 

Then he promptly downloads her entire EP solo album— for research purposes, of course. 

That too is a bad idea.

Satoru is just full of bad ideas these days. 

Already when he closes his eyes, he’s assaulted with an endless parade of online clips of Yuuki in various adorable outfits; dancing on stage during a concert, laughing as she attempts to say a tongue twister on a game show, batting invasive questions about her personal life with dexterous aplomb on a radio show, shyly confessing her love to the main lead on a daytime TV drama (that one was particularly ill thought out— it’s true, she says “Does sensei want a head pat~ ♡ ” the exact same way she says, “Haru-kun, I like you a lot~”). 

And now her latest single is so stuck in his head it’s all he can hear in the silence of his apartment (the song slaps, for the record, so it’s not his fault if he hums it around the house). 

He also, through absolutely no fault of his own, happens to know what she looks like mostly shirtless. And that’s just— well. Anyway. 

So he’s the connoisseur of poor life choices here, and he knows this, but this doesn’t stop him from making even more bad choices. 

Like, going out of his way to meet with her not even twenty-four hours after binge watching most of her guest drama appearances. 

“Sensei~ over here!” 

He’d like to say he’s growing immune to that tone— but he’s really not in the habit of lying to himself, as much as he’d like to be.

“Yuuki-chan!” He waves back, as he rounds the corner to see the ever-excitable silhouette of Yuuki-chan, surrounded by the brooding shadows of her fellow freshman. 

Neither Nobara nor Megumi look particularly enthused to see him— actually, they look downright resigned. But he ignores them, because they’re lame and boring, and at least Yuuki looks as happy as always to see him. 

She looks like she just wrapped up some kind of idol filming and has made a cursory attempt at pretending like she’s not famous by throwing on an oversized winter jacket and baseball cap. It’s not entirely working out all that well. She’s also still wearing his jacket beneath the ensemble, the tip of the high collar covering the bottom of her chin. Satoru makes a concerted effort not to put too much thought in that— teenage girls are weird, maybe it’s like a good luck charm now for her or something. Who’s he to judge, really. 

“What are we doing today, sensei?” Yuuki chirps, all smiles and excitement. He wonders how she manages to stay so upbeat all the time, despite everything that’s happened to her. 

“Sensei has lots of fun things planned for today!” He grins, giving her a thumbs up. Yuuki beams at him. Megumi and Nobara are far less gullible, and exchange matching looks of despair.

“Oh! What kind of fun? Sightseeing? Ice skating?”

“I’m taking you all out to Roppongi!” Satoru replies smoothly, evading any actual answer. 

Yuuki either doesn’t notice, or doesn’t care enough to remark. Her expression of benign curiosity doesn’t even fall when they finally reach their destination— a dilapidated building in the shadow of Roppongi’s glitzy shopping district, fallen into a lethal state of disrepair. Meanwhile, Megumi and Nobara have bypassed their despair and have flung-headlong into wary resignation. 

“Sensei, what exactly is your idea of ‘fun’?” Yuuki asks, tilting her head. 

“It’s something we all have to wonder at some point.” Nobara opines.

Satoru pouts. “What’s with that tone, Yuuki-chan? Sensei is lots of fun, promise!”

She squints at him. Then she turns to Nobara. “This isn’t the sort of ‘fun’ that requires a safe word, is it?”

Satoru chokes.

Nobara throws her head back and howls in laughter. Even Megumi isn’t immune, hiding his snort behind an erratic cough. The brunette sorcerer slings an arm around the idol, smirking from ear to ear. Yuuki has a matching mischievous smile, so clearly she’s not as adorably naive as she likes to make herself out to be. Interesting. 

“I knew there had to be more to you than that idol-schtick,” Nobara crows, delighted. 

“I have no idea what you mean, Nobara-chan,” Yuuki replies, all big-eyed innocence. “I’ve never had an uncharitable thought directed at another person in my life.”

“Of course not, what blasphemy.” Nobara chortles.

Satoru pouts. “Are you two done yet? Yuuki-chan, I feel so betrayed. Just what do you think of your poor sensei?”

She rolls her head back on Nobara’s shoulder to look at him, guileless innocence bleeding into a low gaze and drawling smirk. He can suddenly, in this moment, see exactly how she managed to charm something as beastly as the King of Curses. “I think you’re the best, sensei~♡”

Immunity? Ha. It’s not a word in Satoru’s vocabulary. There's not a Jujutsu technique in existence that can save him from the heart palpitations that tone causes.

All he can do is avert his eyes and look away under the pretense of clearing his throat. “Right, well. There’s actually curses infesting this building, and I wanted Nobara-chan and Yuuki-chan to exorcise them.”

She peers over at Fushiguro, who Satoru is pleased to see is not exactly immune to Yuuki’s cuteness either. The dark-haired boy appears rather flustered at being the center of her attention, for however brief a time.

“Not Fushiguro-kun?”

“He’s still injured from last week,” Satoru waves her concerns off. “Don’t worry about him, okay? I want you to focus on trying to exorcise these curses without the help of Sukuna. Can you do that, or do you need a cursed weapon to help?”

Yuuki frowns, considering the query seriously. “I’ll be okay.” She declares, after a beat.

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t intrigued at the prospect. Has Sukuna been training her, then? 

He shares a look with Nobara, who gives him a solemn nod in return. Good, so she knows this is really a test for Yuuki more than anything. Hopefully she’ll be able to glean information from this exercise that even his Six Eyes can’t. 

☆ 

“That sorcerer scum is testing you.” Sukuna growls, sounding deeply offended by such a prospect.

“Of course he is,” Yuuki returns, amused. “He’s my sensei. That’s what he’s supposed to do.”

“Sensei,” Sukuna scoffs. “Some sensei he is, throwing you in here without even a word of advice!”

“You’re the one who told me to call him that!” Yuuki points out. 

“Yes, because I— you know what, nevermind. Take the next left turn, I sense curse energy up ahead.”

Yuuki follows his command, turning left at the next fork in the hallways. The building is as unfortunate looking on the inside as it had been on the outside. Yuuki wouldn’t have cared much, if it wasn’t for the smell. It’s as bad as that time they went ferreting around the sewers for Sukuna’s fingers— except this time she was caught unawares. She spares a sad, forlorn look to her poor sneakers, likely in need of retirement after this excursion. If she’d known she was hunting curses today, she wouldn’t have worn her gucci kicks! 

“Gojo is kind of a jerk,” she thinks, to which Sukuna whole-heartedly concurs. “But I feel like he’s just kind of an idiot. Like, he’s not doing it intentionally.”

“You’re giving him too much credit.” Sukuna snorts. “He’s definitely an idiot, and he's definitely an asshole intentionally."

She skids to a halt as she stumbles across her first curse— four-legged, vaguely insect-like. She shrivels her nose in distaste. It smells vaguely insect-like.

“Well, since that degenerate sensei of yours has thrown you into this without actually teaching you a damn thing— 

“He did offer to give me a weapon,” Yuuki points out.

“But did he teach you how to use it?” Sukuna counters, which is a fair point. 

Sukuna has been with her on cooking shows; he knows she’s banned from using knives ever since she accidentally sliced off her own finger and had to casually shove it into the bottom of the trashcan while Sukuna regrew it, all on live TV. It’s no real wonder he’d vehemently protested the offer when Gojo gave it. 

“— Exactly. So its up to me to teach you about your own cursed energy.” Sukuna continues on, imperiously. “And I’m only explaining it once, so don’t forget it!”

Yuuki ‘eeps’ in dismay as she straightens up to attention. “R— Right! Okay!”

Sukuan clears his throat, and actually manifests on her cheek to speak, so she knows he’s serious here. “First of all, Jujutsu is cursed energy, so like curses themselves, it comes from negative emotions. While it’s true that utilizing emotions to force the output of cursed energy is possible, it’s harder to control its flow and easier to burn through it too quickly.”

She makes a considering noise, nodding along. 

“As my host, you’re unlikely to ever run out of cursed energy, but it’s the principle of the thing. Bad techniques start with a bad foundation.” He says loftily, and Yuuki can’t help but imagine him sitting primly on some teacher’s desk, pushing up his glasses and turning up his nose at her. “And a bad foundation starts with bad teaching, which means you’re going to have the best techniques possible, got it?”

“Um. Yeah.” 

No, absolutely not. 

Sukuna gives an annoyed growl. “That means, since you’re my vessel, and I'm teaching you personally, you’re not allowed to be bad!” 

“How is that any fair?!” Yuuki protests on principle. She barely knows anything about Jujutsu! And she’s a terrible student! Just garbage! Ask any of her former teachers!

“You have no reason to be bad.” Sukuna declares, and if it was coming from anyone else Yuuki would imagine it was meant to be reassuring. Coming from Sukuna, it just sounds egotistical. 

“Look, I get you never actually met me while I was in school so you wouldn’t know, but I am an awful student,” Yuuki explains solemnly. “The absolute worst. I scored last in my class in basically every subject.” 

Sukuna wishes he could grow one of his secondary arms just so he could reach up and slap her. Honestly, where is this self-deprecating outlook coming from? Yuuki has never struck him as defeatist, nor particularly inclined to needlessly belittle herself. Then again, his host can be weirdly self-conscious over the oddest of things. For someone who is— at least from what he can tell— exalted and celebrated by the masses of this country, she’s awfully insecure. If Sukuna has ever been insecure in his life, he certainly doesn’t remember it, so he has no idea what to do about it. In the same manner he never knows what to do with Yuuki, because she’s a teenage girl, and he has as much experience handling them as he does with those cannibalistic aliens from Yuuki’s favorite horror movie— which is to say, none at all.

“That has never stopped you from learning those useless dances within seconds, nor memorizing those equally useless catch phrases on game shows.”

Yuuki flushes. “That’s— that’s different!” She protests. 

“Is it?” Sukuna counters, mildly. “Fighting isn’t entirely all that different from your weird practiced choreographies, frankly, and you’re already fairly good at it.”

She blushes even further, pink brighter than her hair coloring her cheeks. “Well that’s, I mean…” 

She knows Sukuna means that as the highest of compliments he could possibly give a human, but she’s still so ingrained in thinking fighting is ‘wrong’ and that being obscenely and naturally good at it is also wrong. 

“This here is a low grade curse that should be easy practice for you.” Sukuna returns her focus back to the curse in front of them. “I want you to defeat it first with just plain cursed energy; we’ll move on to cursed techniques next.”

“Riiiight,” Yuuki drawls, unconvinced. 

Yuuki doesn’t even know what cursed energy is, let alone how to draw it out. 

“Yes you do,” she hears in her mind, and she wonders if that’s Sukuna or her subconscious whispering to. “You’ve seen it before, plenty of times.” 

Whether it came from her or Sukuna, that voice is right. Yuuki takes a breath and raises her fist, just as the ugly head of the cursed insect swings her way. 

☆

Nobara listens on with an impressed face, nodding along to the King of Curses of all people. 

It seems so surreal, that he might deign to lower himself and teach a teenage girl how to use cursed energy, yet here he is. Then again, Yuuki isn’t just any teenage girl— she’s his vessel, which is a mind blowing concept in and of itself. As far as Nobara knew, Ryomen Sukuna has never had a vessel in the thousand or so years of his existence. His cursed fingers float about through history, never extinguished, wreaking havoc wherever they appear. Nobara wonders what it means, that suddenly a girl capable of hosting Sukuna has appeared.

The weirdest part, in her opinion, is how bizarrely normal Yuuki actually is. 

Everything about her is larger than life; her personality, all bubblegum pop and sugary sweetness; her career as a fabulous teenage idol appearing on all sorts of TV shows, dramas, and music events; and of course her identity as the first and only vessel of the most horrific curse to ever blemish the world— oh, and her outrageous, super human strength.

Nobara’s mouth drops open as Yuuki sends the insect curse through five layers of concrete without using a single drop of cursed energy. Nobara wouldn’t even believe it possible if she hadn’t seen it with her own eyes. 

Meanwhile, oblivious to her presence (or at least acting like it) Sukuna and Yuuki loudly argue as the King of Curse berates her for wasting a perfectly good opportunity to practice cursed energy as Yuuki whines about how impossible it all is. Sukuna is mean, impatient, and rather surly. Yuuki is his exact opposite, all carefree and easy going. She wonders if that has something to do with it, why Yuuki can be his vessel and all. Both the opposite personality thing, and the incredible physical condition.

“I did try!!” Yuuki is protesting loudly, actually stomping her foot as she complains.

“That was pathetic!” Sukuan snarks, where he’s manifested on the back of her hand. 

Pathetic how? Nobara wonders, seriously. She smacked that thing through layers of concrete. That was unreal. 

Yuuki slaps the mouth irritably with her other hand, which only makes Sukuna form on that one instead. 

“You weren’t even trying! I told you to concentrate!” The fanged mouth spits, from between fastidiously manicured sparkly pink nails. Nobara reminds herself to ask the girl whether they’re acrylics or not. 

“I am concentrating!!” Yuuki shouts back.

“Clearly not enough!”

“I told you I’m no good at this stuff!” She wails, voice cracking. “I can’t do it! I can’t! It’s too much and I just don’t—

“Oh no, fuck no, don’t you dare fucking cry on me— 

“I’m not meaning to!” Yuuki sobs, aggrieved. “Oh now look, you’ve made me mess up my makeup!”

“I did that?!” Sukuna shrieks. “This is all your fault! Stop crying this instant, damn it, I command you!”

“Crying doesn’t work like that, asshole!”

“I don’t understand you at all,” Sukuna denounces, grandly. “Every time I try to make you cry, you just laugh it off. And now, for no reason, you’re bawling like a mewling infant! What the hell is wrong with you? Stop that!”

“I told you, I can’t just stop.” Yuuki sniffles, wiping furiously at her eyes, likely in a vain attempt to preserve her makeup. Nobara feels her on a spiritual level; running mascara is the worst. Especially the waterproof kind. “And of course I’m going to cry when I told you I’m no good at this stuff and then you expect me to just up and do it anyway! I don’t know anything about curses or cursed energy and I don’t care either! You’re the reason we’re in this situation— this is all your fault.”

There’s some grumbling and grousing from the mouth on her hand, presumably Sukuna professing his innocence in the matter. Yuuki’s tears turn into quiet hiccuping, as either the conversation gets too quiet for Nobara to eavesdrop on, or Sukuna is communicating with her mentally. Yuuki snuffles again, rubbing her nose as she nods in response to something.

“I just don’t like disappointing people, you know.” Yuuki mutters quietly, as she makes a valiant effort to scrub the worst of her smearing eyeliner off her face.  "And I really am trying, I promise."

Whatever Sukuna says in response is still too quiet to hear, but from the way Yuuki’s expression softens she has to imagine it’s something placating enough to reassure the girl. Nobara withholds a snort. Holy hell, is it possible that the King of Curses is actually better at dealing with teenage girls than Gojo-sensei? The last time he tried to console Nobara when she was upset, she got so mad she punted him out a window. Sukuna, despite his snapping and snarling, evidently has some kind of technique which Gojo lacks. 

“Fine, I’ll try it again,” Yuuki concedes, reluctant. “But don’t yell at me if it doesn’t work again.” 

The pink-haired girl vaults over the broken wall and bounds off in the direction of the curse. Nobara figures the pep talk is probably over, and goes to search the rest of the building. 

☆

“So? How did she do?” Satoru asks eagerly, once they’ve finished in Roppongi and are heading to their very first ‘class dinner’. 

Nobara shrugs. “Well, she’s crazy, so of course she did just fine.” 

Yeah, he’d expected as much honestly. Yuuki might not seem like much at first glance— just your usual kawaii teenage bubble-gum pop idol— until you remember that this particular girl voluntarily swallowed a cursed finger, on top of moving to Tokyo to be a pop star, which is already a pretty crazy thing to do in Satoru’s opinion. 

He studies the back of her head as she gesticulates wildly at Megumi, evidently lost in some kind of heated conversation. That broody kid’s actually smiling— or trying his approximation of one, the total tsundere— and looks like he might be coming out of his moody little shell for once. Definitely crazy. But she’s going to need that, to be a Jujutsu Sorcerer. 

It hadn’t seemed odd for him to hop in the second taxi with Nobara, what with Megumi and Yuuki so engrossed in their conversation. Did he, possibly, choose a restaurant clear across Tokyo just for the explicit purpose of having Nobara alone long enough to pick her brain? It’s possible, but also, this is one of his favorite sushi restaurants and it’s not as if he’s worried over paying for two cabs. Yuuki might have been entirely oblivious, but if he’s right about her relationship with Sukuna, then the King of Curses has already clued her in on what he’s doing. 

“Crazy in a good way, then?” He confirms, as he leans back in his seat. 

“Crazy in a crazy way.” Nobara rolls her eyes. “There’s no such thing as a good crazy.” She adds, with a pointed look in his direction.

He wags his brows at her. “Are you insulting your sensei again, Nobara-chan?”

“You even admit to it,” Nobara protests, disgusted. “It’s not a compliment to have everyone you know assume you’re crazy, you know!”

“Maybe in any other occupation.” Satoru concedes with a laugh. “So anyway, how were her techniques?”

“Didn’t really see much of the actual technique, but the aftermath was pretty impressive.” Nobara discloses, voice pitched low.

Satoru makes a noncommittal noise. He’d figured as much himself, from the explosive outburst of cursed energy he’d felt as he and Megumi observed from outside. He’ll have to ask Yuuki if she was born with cursed energy, or if she only obtained it through Sukuna. As it is, it’s hard to say. Any and all cursed energy output from her body registers as Sukuna— the only real difference is in the amount. When Yuuki is in control, she has a cursed energy profile so low he has to imagine it’s intentional on Sukuna’s part; to maintain such a low but constant output as to not only mimic a regular human but also deceive his Six Eyes requires a very intentional and nuanced application of cursed energy that he doubts Yuuki has currently. And when Sukuna is in control? Or just intentionally flaring his own energy? Well. It’s as subtle as a rocket ship crash landing back to earth.

“Was it her, or Sukuna?” He inquires, voice just as low. It’s probably unnecessary with the radio on and the divider up, but whatever, Nobara started it first. 

Surprisingly, Nobara snorts. “Definitely Yuuki-chan.” She chortles under her breath. “You know, sensei, I think Sukuna’s a better teacher than you are.”  

At first he's so surprised he's stunned silent. Then he's just plain offended.

Satoru gasps in outrage. “What?”

“I learned more from him in the past half hour than I have from you all year!” Nobara crows, sticking her tongue out at him.

“What is that supposed to mean?” He cries, plaintively. “Nobara-chan, are you saying I’m a bad teacher?”

“You’re terrible and you damn well know it.” Nobara shoots him down in flames. 

He affects an affronted gasp, clutching his heart. “Nobara! You wound me.” 

“No one can wound you, you crazy beanpole, but nice try.” She clicks her tongue at him. Honestly! The disrespect of the youth these days! Yuuki-chan wouldn’t do this to him, he despairs. He should have just jumped in the other cab and asked Sukuna all this directly. 

His irreverent student goes on to examine her nail beds, summarily ignoring his whining protests in response. 

“Anyway, it was pretty clear that Yuuki-chan knew little to nothing about cursed energy when she walked into that building, but by the time we left she’d already executed a black flash.”

“You’re serious,” Satoru clarifies, sobering up immediately and the revelation. He's unsure what to make of the news.

Nobara nods. “In record time, too. Saved that brat in the knick of time. I wonder if that has something to do with it?” She muses, then shakes her head. “Nevermind that. Sensei! Why did you never mention how intertwined cursed energy output and negative emotions are?!”

“Ehhh? I thought you knew all of that already.” 

Nobara stares at him with a deeply aggrieved expression.

“This is why Sukuna is a better teacher than you.” Nobara grouses. 

“Whaaaaat? Nobara, you can’t say that! That’s so cruel! If you keep being mean to me, I’m not going to buy you dinner!”

“Sensei, you cheapskate!”

☆

“Has anyone ever told you it’s fucking creepy to come into a girl’s room in the middle of the night like this?”

And just like that, he knows exactly who he’s talking to.

Satoru grins roguishly at him as he steps into the room. “Ryomen Sukuna, are you implying you're the authority on what is and isn’t appropriate when it comes to teenage girls?” He can’t help but tease, because the King of Curses himself trying to chastise him on proper behavior is just too funny to pass up.  

He ignores the actual question itself on general principle. Yes it’s definitely creepy, but Sukuna is the one coming out in the middle of the night to begin with. If there was an easier avenue to  use to talk to him, Satoru would have taken it already. But Sukuna seems fairly hands off with Yuuki’s life (at least in any manner in which Satoru could observe) and has been surprisingly hard to goad into coming out. 

He’d given it a few half-hearted attempts during dinner, but for the most part tried to keep the peace. Yuuki was still settling into life as a Jujutsu High Sorcerer after all, and hadn’t had much time to bond with her fellow first years. And with her hectic idol schedule she was unlikely to get much time to hang out with them like this again. He’d spent most of dinner just observing their dynamics, watching Yuuki closely from behind his sunglasses to see each minute expression as it crossed her face, trying to decipher whether it was an expression because of Nobara’s ill-timed joke or something Sukuna might have said to her. If the King of Curses was giving a running commentary on the antics of her fellow students, Yuuki didn’t show it on her face. 

He’s fairly certain if he just embarrassed Yuuki enough he might be able to rile up the King of Curses enough to bite back, but even Satoru has enough self-preservation to avoid that particular tactic. It’s proven to be just as liable to backfire on him as it is to be successful. He’d already clowned himself once doing that, no need to accidentally do it again. 

So here he is, floating down onto the balcony outside of Yuuki’s designated dorm room, poking his head inside to see Ryomen Sukuna finally out, and apparently more interested in watching reruns of The Office than he is with Satoru.

Rude!

He bullies his way into the room, hooking his chin over Sukuna’s (Yuuki’s) shoulder. “Hm, if this is the sort of shows you like to watch, this actually does explain a lot about your sense of humor…”

Sukuna snorts. “I don’t care about this nonsense— it’s just what puts Yuuki to sleep.”

And why do you care about whether she sleeps or not? Satoru carefully does not ask. 

Nonetheless, he waits the few seconds until the episode is over before smacking Satoru away from him. “What do you want?” He growls, sitting up and sparing Satoru a churlish glance. “I’m assuming you’re not here to comment on Yuuki’s television choices.”

“So rude,” Satoru sniffs. “Is that any way to talk to your sensei?”

If he thought that lording his superior position over him would piss the King of Curses off—

Well.

He thought spectacularly wrong. 

Sukuna bats his eyelashes, curling his knees up to his chest as he beams a doe-eyed look point blank at Satoru. It’s unavoidable. He couldn’t dodge it if he tried. 

“Maybe if you were actually any good at teaching, I'd show you some respect, sensei~"

His heart skips a beat, as his breath catches nearly inaudibly in his throat. That voice is lethal, he realizes with dismay. Combined with that syrupy gaze, it’s no real wonder Satoru is so weak to it. 

“That hurts, Sukuna,” he manages to get out, once he’s recovered himself. “I’ll have you know my students think I’m an excellent teacher.”

That is absolutely false, all his students think he's the absolute worst, except perhaps for the exception of Yuuta-kun, who is but a small cinnamon roll who still thinks he hung the moon or something. The rest of them collectively look at him with resignation and despair. 

“Right,” Sukuna drawls, unimpressed. 

“Ah, but it is true I wanted to talk to you.” He agrees amiably, as he leans back on his hands in an arrogantly defenseless sprawl across the bed. Sukuna evidently notices the gesture, but makes no move to go for his jugular. Whether because he knows he wouldn’t get past Satoru’s Infinity or simply because he has no current interest in doing so is up to debate. “Since I’m the one who had to do all the heavy lifting to get you enrolled in here, I think I’m at least entitled to know why you thought it was a good idea.”

“Isn’t it a good idea?” Sukuna counters, raising a brow. It’s hard to take him seriously, even knowing he's talking to the vicious and infamous King of Curses, when he’s still dressed in Yuuki’s adorable printed pink pajamas. “The only way to exorcise me for good is if I’m tied to a vessel. Yuuki’s existence is the perfect opportunity to try to get rid of me.”

“Oh, it’s pretty clear what the benefits for the Jujutsu world are,” Satoru concedes, mildly. “But how is that any good for you?”

“Your school wants Yuuki to eat as many of my fingers as possible, to have the best chance of destroying me.” Sukuna points out. “Why bother to go through the trouble of seeking out my own fingers when I could just have them handed to me? I could just sit here and relax, and have all of you Jujutsu Sorcerer’s scurrying about trying to find my fingers for me.” 

Well, there is some truth to that. 

“And you’re completely fine having these sorcerers finding your fingers, even knowing what their end goal is?”

“I know what they think their end goal will be.” Sukuna answers, smirking. “Whether or not they’ll be successful in the attempt is another matter entirely.”

“Oh-ho!” Satoru bounces forward with a matching grin. “So your plan is to overpower me, your executioner? How can you be so sure you’ll manage it?”

“How can you?” Sukuna returns, promptly. Then he leans forward, batting his eyelashes; “When all I have to do is just sit here and say, ‘ please, sensei, no more~”

It’s through sheer stubborn willpower that Satoru doesn’t react. “You’re not nearly as good at that as Yuuki-chan is, you know.”

In a blink that sweet and saccharine expression is gone as if it was never there in the first place, replaced by Sukuna’s cruelly smirking face. “Maybe so, but it’ll be Yuuki you’ll be killing too, you know.”

“I’m well aware,” he agrees, stiffly, even though the thought still doesn’t sit well with him. “I hope you don’t think, even for a second, that something like that would stop me from doing what is necessary.”

“Perhaps,” Sukuna allows, coolly. “But how necessary is it, really?”

Satoru narrows his eyes at him. “How do you mean?” 

Sukuna leans back against the headboard, brushing long pink hair over his shoulder in an almost absent gesture. He doesn’t hesitate when he uncurls his legs and plops his wriggly feet right into Satoru’s lap— or tries to, as they hit his barrier before coming in contact with him. He stares down at the offending appendages, painted cutely in pastel shades with polka dots, before meeting eyes with the unabashed curse. 

“You need me, sorcerer.” Sukuna declares, looking utterly self-assured. “Much more than you know.”

Satoru doesn’t entirely disagree with the principle, but he is curious how Sukuna came to such a conclusion. “Is that so? Enlighten me.” 

“That creature that nearly sealed you in Shibuya,” Sukuna intones, and Satoru stiffens unwillingly at the reminder of the cursed brain masquerading as his dead best friend. “He’s not done with you lot— he hasn’t even really gotten started.” Sukuna laughs. “And the Jujutsu world is just a wreck right now, isn’t it? I had my suspicions before, but seeing it up close really confirms it. This place is ruled by a bunch of old, weak-willed fucks who shoulda been put in their graves years ago, stifling talent and dragging all of Jujutsu society down in their wake.”

“And you— it galls you, doesn’t it?” Sukuna croons, leaning forward into Satori's personal space. “You, the strongest Sorcerer alive, the strongest in centuries, having to bear your neck to these weak, useless bastards. You had to bargain with them just to keep Yuuki alive, didn’t you? They probably wanted me dead on sight, didn’t they, even knowing they’d be doing nothing but pushing off the problem for another generation to deal with.” 

“I have my own plans to handle them,” he maintains, stoically, hating how right Sukuna is. 

He doesn't just hate it— he loathes it. He thinks about it, almost all the time— how useless it all is, how dumb this whole world is. How easy it would be to burn it all to the ground. Sukuna is right, he’s the strongest sorcerer alive by a long shot, no one even comes close: he alone is the honored one. That he has to play a part as a cog in society when he could tumble the whole house of cards down in one fell swoop grates on him. He never forgets the words Suguru had said to him when they first met again after he'd defected; that Satoru alone was capable of dismantling society as it stands, that such a power existed, and if that was the case what was stopping Suguru from utilizing it? What if Satoru had agreed with him, then? They’d have been unstoppable. Jujutsu Society would have fallen that day. 

He and Suguru could have crowned themselves kings of this world— kings of a hollow emptiness, kings of nothing. Murdering the top of the world would do nothing but create a vacuum, he knows this. Systematic change takes time, effort, and the hard work of many, not just one. It can’t just be the one: the honored one, alone in his lonesome dynasty, as always. 

Sukuna flicks his feet back and forth in Satoru’s lap. “And I bet I’m part of that, aren’t I?”

That’s true as well.

The moment Yuuki showed up here, Satoru had already thought of it. What it might mean, to have the King of Curses in all his whimsical, unknowable strength, here at his side. Sukuna’s existence will drag forth change whether anyone wants it or not; what would happen if Satoru managed to use that power for his own gains? 

He clamps a strong hand down on the wiggling ankle in his lap, stilling the curse immediately. “So what are you thinking, Sukuna? You want to work together?”

Sukuna peers at him through a fray of rosey lashes, a strip of glowing carmine both alluring and alarming. 

“I think you entertain me,” Sukuna reveals, and from anyone else Satoru would take it as an insult, but he doesn’t think the King of Curses means it as one in this instance. “And I think we have a mutual enemy. I see no reason to remain at odds. And who knows? Maybe if what you have in store for this world is something that interests me, I might even help you achieve it.”

Satoru is hardly going to take the King of Curses at his word, but for now he sees no reason for Sukuna to lie to him. He’s hardly promising anything, anyway. Just proposing a… truce of sorts. 

He squeezes down on the ankle in his hand, his long fingers easily wrapping around the entire circumference. It’s blink-and-you’ll-miss-it fast, but when he digs his thumb into the tender muscle below the jut of bone, he sees Sukuna suppress a shiver that utterly delights Satoru. 

“And what would you want in return, Sukuna?”

He presses in further, wondering if he can get another response. But Sukuna just jerks both his legs back, curling them beneath him. Pity, that.

“Just keep Yuuki out of the crossfire,” Sukuna decides, which surprises him a bit. He hadn’t expected the curse to care that much about what happens to his host. He tosses an arrogant smirk Satoru’s way. “It’s not as if you have anything else to offer me.”

He… doesn’t mean that like it sounds, Satoru reminds himself, and valiantly refrains from the immediate dirty retort that feels second nature to make. And even if he did: Yuuki is sixteen. Sukuna might be a thousand years old or something like that, but the young and nubile body he’s residing in belongs to a lovely and utterly darling teenage girl who should not be the subject of anyone’s sexual innuendos, least of all his own. 

See, he says this, and it’s perfectly reasonable and sound advice, and then he goes and does the opposite anyway.

“Oh, I’m sure I have plenty to offer you,” he replies blithely, before his mind has caught up to his mouth.

Sukuna blinks shocked luminescent eyes at him, in a manner that should not be even remotely enticing, but still manages to be charmingly adorable. 

...Did I actually just flirt with the King of Curses? He thinks, incredulous.

Then the curse leans forward, peering up at him through a fray of rosaline lashes, biting into the supple, petal-pink flesh of his lower lip. “And just what are you offering, sensei~?”

And is he flirting back??!

Even Satoru has a line of borderline insanity he tries not to cross, and he’s long since overshot that. He tries not to have too much of an existential panic about it, even if this current turn in the situation is bizarre, even for someone as regularly and defiantly crazy as he is. 

He pulls his sunglasses down to wink at his companion, leaning into Sukuna as well until their noses are almost touching. “I think if you stick around, you might just find out.” 

He doesn’t pull away after, and neither does Sukuna. There’s a tangible tension in the air, and not (entirely) of the sexual kind. The hairs at the back of his neck stand on end as he holds the gaze of a fellow apex predator, both of them refusing to concede ground. An anticipatory restlessness settles into his bones, so intense he has to curl his hands into the bedspread beneath him to relieve some of the tension. He wants to— he doesn’t even know. His hindbrain seems confused between fighting, fucking or fleeing. Maybe all of it. Or none of it. He has no idea how to categorize how he feels other than agitated, reckless, and very much so alive.

To his surprise, Sukuna yields first. He blinks once, and Satoru can feel the soft puff of warm breath against his lips as he exhales just as he pulls away. He lets out a breath of his own he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding, as space opens up between them once more. 

“Hmph, what a cop out of an answer,” Sukuna complains, tossing an errant lock of sakura hair over his shoulder. 

“The mystery is half the fun, you know,” he finds himself replying, almost entirely on autopilot. 

He still feels like he accidentally stepped into the twilight zone. Did that actually just happen? Or was he imagining that undercurrent of tension? 

“Careful sorcerer, you might just start to bore me,” Sukuna warns him, but there’s something evidently teasing to his tone. Almost playful. 

Yeah, no. He definitely hadn’t been imagining it. 

“Well now, we can’t have that, now can we?” He stretches, then rolls off the bed onto his feet. There’s really no fooling himself here; he was definitely flirting, Sukuna flirted back, and now he needs to get the hell out of dodge before he does something even more profoundly stupid. Like— like reach out and touch him, or something.

And since he seems to be suffering from some kind of brain to body filter malfunction, that’s exactly what he does. 

He reaches out, and does something profoundly stupid. He… pets the King of Curses on the head. And messes up his hair. It's just as soft and silky as it looks. Of course it is, Yuuki-chan is an idol. Obviously she knows how to take care of her own hair, he thinks, hysterically. 

Okay. Nope. Time to go. 

Just in the nick of time too.

Sukuna’s expression fractures at first into one of utter, unabashed shock; his eyes are enormous as he stares up at him, mouth open, a low flush rising on his cheeks. Then it morphs into bewilderment, and finally into unadulterated, incandescent rage. Satoru has enough presence of mind to teleport the fuck out of there, just before Sukuna blows out the wall behind him. He blinks back into existence directly above the dorms just in time to see the balcony doors shatter explosively and the wooden banister beyond it splinter into a thousand pieces. The curse’s roar of fury is probably audible in the next town over. 

Well… he supposes this must count— at least in some capacity— as entertaining him, no? 

Chapter Text

☆

GOOD NIGHT BABY

☆

He looks down at his hands idly, watching moonlight sparkle across the glossy surface of an intricately designed nail. It’s decorated in a pattern similar to his yukata, and he doesn’t think that’s accidental on Yuuki’s part. Even the maroon is the right shade. He’s had the misfortune of being awake for the absolute circus that is Yuuki’s hair and nail appointments before, so he knows exactly how much effort goes into each and every detail. He’ll never admit it to anyone, but that’s part of the reason he doesn’t grow them into claws. Yuuki would likely cry at the state of her nails after she regained control, and that loud wailing of hers is a situation he goes out of his way to avoid. It's grating on the ears, okay.

Yuuki is easier to handle when she’s in a good mood, that’s all. He can make small compromises in the name of keeping the peace with his vessel— he might be evil, but he’s not an idiot. 

Well, he says ‘small’, but upon further consideration there is a certain point where a handful of small, slightly tedious concessions grows into a disturbing, larger picture. 

He doesn’t grow his claws to preserve her manicures. He heals each and every cut no matter how small, and he might tell himself it’s because Yuuki’s always whining to him about an idol’s perfect skin, but in reality he probably would have healed them anyway whether she was some kind of celebrity or not; the idea of anything or anyone (other than him) marring the skin of his host made his blood boil. If he’s roaming about at night in search of other curses to let out some bloodlust on, he's careful not to be seen and be back well before her alarm. When he fights, he takes the extra effort to avoid getting dirty. Even now, instead of diving into the night to hunt down that blasted Six Eyes, he’s debating whether or not it’s even worth the effort to mess up Yuuki’s hair. 

It’s not as if he’d ever show this level of consideration for anyone else, so it’s not as if he’s had a change of heart on the human race. 

In the privacy of his own mind, he has to wonder what would have happened had she been born during the height of his reign. Would she have curried his favor so effectively, even back then? Or would she never have gotten the chance without being his vessel first? He supposes it’s a stupid thing to even contemplate; he’s returned to life a thousand years into the future, and Yuuki is his host. It’s pointless to wonder about other scenarios.

He settles back onto the bed and closes his eyes. He doesn’t actually have to sleep, and because of his reverse-cursed technique neither does their body, but he settles under the blankets anyhow. Yuuki might never have to worry about being sick again, but she still can feel cold, and with half the wall currently blown out she’ll be near freezing temperature if he doesn’t.  And if he also uses his cursed energy to heat the air around her to a moderate warmth— well, no one has to know. He just doesn’t want to have to listen to her complain.

He sinks back into his inner domain, opening his eyes to the colossal ribcage of his shrine’s entryway. 

His true form reflects back at him from the still water below, and he takes a moment to catalog the features that are so oddly similar to Yuuki’s. Did he always look like this, as a human? Or is his form influenced by his vessel, even in his own mind? He no longer remembers. He heads further into his domain, where mountains of skulls rise into the distance. 

On the dias of the shrine, surrounded by carcasses, a young girl sleeps. Her sweet sakura hair spills around her, ends trailing into the water like ink. 

He walks around her to reclaim his throne. As he reclines indolently, he wonders if he should conjure up a futon. Then he dismisses the thought as absurd. He caters to her whims far too much in the physical world as it is— the idea of even changing his inner domain for her is outrageous. He scowls deeply. Why would he even entertain such a ludicrous thought? 

☆

It takes two whole days before Yuuki realizes she hasn’t heard a peep from Sukuna since her first day as a student of Jujutsu Tech exorcising curses. And it takes almost a week before that situation changes.

In her defense, it’s been a rather hectic time.

She likes to think she landed on her feet as she tumbled back into the world of idols after a brief reprieve as a sorcerer, but she almost wants to grimace at herself on camera when she sees the footage of their interview from earlier. Takada assured her she did fine, and came across as her usual perky and effervescent self, but watching the recording Yuuki can see all the times she completely and utterly zones out, even when someone was talking to her. Fortunately she’s great at laughing off her own clumsiness, and the crowd and the host alike seemed to find it more adorably amusing than disrespectful. She misses a few steps during their dance rehearsals too— which never happens. Chisato and Takada both give her the side-eye at that. Yuuki is by and large the best dancer in the group, and the mistakes she’s making are the sort they’d expect of Maya, their songbird with two left feet. 

Its just— well, maybe things are finally catching up to her.

Yuuki’s always been a bit of an airhead, which lends well to her on-air persona as the bubbly and forever upbeat member of the group. In reality though, she tends to ignore all the tragedy and strife and has gotten really good at pretending it didn’t happen. The death of her grandfather, the only family she’s ever known, the loneliness of pretending to be a boy as a girl, that wretched feeling like she’d never fit in or be accepted… then swallowing Sukuna’s finger, her impending execution… perhaps it might seem outwardly that loneliness and sadness are foreign things to her, but in the privacy of her own mind they leave a mark. She wants to be happy, and make everyone around her happy, because Yuuki needs to be needed— and she needs to be seen. The idea that people might actually like her as she is, and not just as the cute athletic boy in class or an equally cute pop idol in the world might seem a bit farfetched, but at the very least she wants people to remember her. Her, Itadori Yuuki. Not handsome and sporty Yuuji-kun. At least this way, if she really does end up executed, she’ll be remembered. She doesn’t know what her purpose is, otherwise. 

She’s not sure why it all suddenly hits her right now, months after everything started, but she’s started to feel a bit adrift. 

Maybe it’s because everything suddenly seems so… real, after Shibuya.

That part of the city is basically off limits to everyone but the construction crews and the police, but the broken remains of skyscrapers remain a blemish for everyone in Tokyo to see, no matter how far away they are. And becoming a Jujutsu Sorcerer proper has really nailed home the fact that she’ll never be normal again. When it was just her and Sukuna hunting for his fingers, it seemed more like a bit of a clandestine adventure. No one but Takada knew about Sukuna, and Yuuki was able to keep her life as an idol more or less unchanged. 

Now there are responsibilities she has, and consequences she has to live with. Every time she catches a glimpse of construction cranes in the distance, she’s reminded that she had been there for that. That Sukuna was a part of that destruction. 

It’s a bit hard to ignore, considering it’s going to be a part of the Tokyo skyline for the foreseeable future. 

That, and the fact she has a half-curse half-human brother dogging her steps all the time.

“I’m just going to the konbini, you know,” Yuuki protests half-heartedly, already knowing Choso will follow her anyway.

“That’s fine. I’ll go with you.” Choso says, not missing a beat.

Yuuki just sighs, exiting the building with Choso at her heels. The weather has taken a turn for the wintry; it feels like Christmas really snuck up on her this year. Despite the tragedy and destruction in Shibuya (ostensibly a domestic terror attack, according to the media) the city has rallied to remind its citizens of the capitalist cornucopia that is the shopping holiday of Christmas in Japan. The streets are lined with light-bedecked trees, storefronts trussed up with decorations and lights. Glitzy gift advertisements rotate in a show of dazzling color, some of which starring Yuuki herself, although she’s not interested in looking. 

She scarfs down three onigiri before they’ve even made it back to the studio, utterly ravenous after an afternoon of dancing. She slaps her cheeks a few times, to get the blood flowing back into them after the biting chill, but also to remind herself to get her head in the game. As much as she loves the spirit of idol life, bringing smiles to peoples faces with her music and actions, she also has to remember it’s a job. She’s lucky she hasn’t messed up egregiously yet, but if she keeps this up she just might.

“Are you alright?” Choso asks, watching her from the corner of her eye.

“Yeah.” Yuuki assures him, but her heart really isn’t in it.

“Is it Sukuna?” 

She blinks at the query. 

“Uh, no. Just lost in thought.”

She hasn’t heard much from Sukuna recently. Or at all, actually. It’s not that unusual— especially when she first became his host, he tended to grumble about her useless human life and leave the forefront of her subconscious for days on end. Recently though he’s been more of a presence, alert in her mind and if not commenting outright on the happenings around her, then observing carefully. Maybe that’s why it’s bothering her that he’s been so quiet. 

“...You can talk to me, if you want.” Choso mumbles, sounding rather awkward for even attempting to offer.

It makes Yuuki smile despite her dour mood. It’s adorable, really, how hard he tries to be a good older brother, even though he’s a hundred-and-some odd years old curse who knows literally nothing about modern society. He’s worse than Sukuna, although maybe that’s not fair because Sukuna seems capable of picking out her subconscious associations and memories without issue.

“Thanks, nii-chan,” she throws in cheekily, just to watch him sputter in embarrassment. “But it was nothing important.”

She passes the rest of their dance practice in a haze. Chisato and Takada are giving her the side-eyed looks that mean they’ll corner her the moment their instructor heads off for the evening, and Yuuki scrambles to find a suitable scapegoat to hedge them off with. Maya, bless her, is mostly immune to the anxious undertone of the room, chatting eagerly with a less-than-eager Choso about his favorite kinds of music (none, because he’s been sealed in a storage unit for most of his centuries-long existence). Choso is attempting to deflect it as he does most questions needing some kind of opinion from him; whatever Yuuki does is his favorite. Unfortunately this just digs him in a deeper hole, as a delighted Maya then begins to prod him for his personal opinion on Yuuki’s latest album. 

Between Takada and Chisato watching her, and poor Choso looking progressively more put on the spot, Yuuki swoops in to use the situation to her advantage.

“Actually, my nii-chan grew up in a rigidly religious house out in the Kansai farmlands,” Yuuki lies through her teeth, drawing their attention. “So he only says he likes our music because it’s the only kind of music he’s ever heard.”

This, predictably, derails any half-hearted attempts at intervention any of them might have had towards her. 

“No music at all?” Takada gasps, shocked. 

“For what purpose? Surely even the most religious of folk have their own musical traditions.” Chisato adds, looking perturbed. She’s hardly been Choso’s biggest fan since he barged into their practice weeks ago and subsequently ended up their sketchy bodyguard, but even she looks empathetic to his plight.

Yuuki shakes her head, responding before Choso can open his mouth and ruin her hard work with his incredible lack of social tact. “They were— my mother’s parents. Um, they were incredibly superstitious people. Didn’t let him out of the house.”

“How awful,” Maya murmurs.

Takada’s eyes flicker between them. “Yes, really.” She agrees, after a beat. “It’s a good thing you two found each other then.”

She doesn’t know the entire story behind Choso, but as the only one aware of supernatural forces in the group, Yuuki had mentioned she and Choso being connected at least passably by familial means, and Choso’s status as a curse-hybrid. Takada, thankfully, knew better than to ask for more detail than that. 

She might not know the whole story, but her words bring a genuine smile to Yuuki’s face nonetheless. 

It might have been unexpected and untimely, given the circumstances, but Yuuki can’t say she’s regretted meeting Choso. 

“I… think I’m still in shock,” Chisato blurts out, blinking rapidly. “Not even Junko Ohashi? Or Mariya Takeuchi? Your grandparents didn’t listen to anything?”

“It’s a tragedy, truly,” Yuuki nods sagely, instead of adding more detail to the story of her entirely fake grandparents. “Which, I think, needs rectifying immediately.”

Chisato blinks. 

Yuuki claps her hands. “Why don’t we go to karaoke?” 

☆

Sukuna wakes up to a veritable racket of noise and bright lights, and promptly attempts to submerge himself back into his inner domain. Before he can sink back into blessed darkness, he’s pulled out of it rather abruptly by a surprising force.

Sukuna blinks rapidly to see a panicked expression on a vaguely familiar face. The familiarity comes into focus when he recognizes the technique used to haul him back from his domain as the Zen’in shadow technique. This is the boy he rescued during that nonsense with his fingers and the rogue curse users. The one who caught his interest. Fushiguro Megumi. He’s officially one of Yuuki’s classmates, now that she’s joined Jujutsu High. Clearly his instincts are as sharp as ever; he was right to think this boy would have plenty of potential, if he managed to drag Sukuna back before he could cocoon himself in his domain.

“Wait, don’t leave,” the boy says, quickly. 

Sukuna squints at the chaos behind him. Flashing lights, too many voices to accurately parse, a great deal of curse energy confined to a small space. It’s no wonder he surfaced. Is Yuuki in danger?

“What happened to Yuuki?” He’s upright in a flash, seizing the boy by the collar of his shirt with a possessive urgency that surprises even himself. 

“Yuuki’s fine!” He sputters out, wrestling out of Sukuna’s grip. At his words, Sukuna lets him. He scowls darkly as he adjusts his clothing. “She’s just— ugh.”

If that was an attempt at an explanation, it was problematically unhelpful. Sukuna had murdered for less; this human is incredibly lucky to not only have caught his interest, but also to be someone Yuuki would miss if he offed him. 

“She drank too much,” Fushiguro mutters, and at first he doesn’t understand. 

“Alcohol?” He clarifies, incredulous. 

“Gojo ordered everyone drinks— even though half of us are underage,” he scowls. “And I refused mine and then Itadori just— just drank it, and her own, before we could stop her!”

“And?” He raises a brow, not seeing the problem with this.

“She’s only sixteen!”

Is that supposed to mean something to him? 

Fushiguro seems to realize who he’s talking to, blush dusting his cheeks as he adds; “There’s a law prohibiting alcohol under a certain age here.”

As if Sukuna would care about laws.

“And she definitely got way too drunk and now it’s my turn to sing and she promised she would help me and I can’t do it without her so— “ He says, all in a rush. He looks at Sukuna with wide eyes. “Can you please get her back somehow?” 

Sukuna sits up fully, taking stock of the world around him as he processes Fushiguro’s bewildering plea. He tries to sort through Yuuki’s memories and finds them foggy and unreliable. He’s been avoiding her as of late, and curses himself for it now. If he’d been awake, he’d at least have known how the hell they ended up here. It doesn’t appear to be a dangerous situation, mercifully, but he can sense a familiar curse signature he’s not thrilled to see. If there’s troublesome shenanigans involved, of course the Six Eyes User is involved.

“What is this place?” He asks, instead of answering. He swings his legs off the bench he’d been sprawled across, Fushiguro sprawling back like he’s been electrocuted as he’s made aware of how closely he was leaning over Sukuna. 

“It’s— a karaoke bar.” He hastens to explain. “We bumped into Itadori and her, err, group mates I guess? And she said they were going and invited us and Gojo agreed before any of us could say no, and so we all ended up here.”

And then Yuuki drank inadvisable amounts of alcohol and blacked out. Good to know for future reference; avoid proximity to alcohol until he could teach her how to use curse energy to burn it out of her system before it becomes a problem.

He’s a little put upon to find he’s barely managed an entire week or so of distancing himself from her before he’s been summarily dragged back into her orbit, but a part of him is relieved as well. It’s probably for the best something as benign as a few rogue drinks shoved him back to the surface. He’d assumed he could be more hands off in her life what with the Jujutsu Sorcerers and that half-curse always hovering around her— upon further thought, that would probably only serve to increase the likelihood of her running into trouble, not alleviate it. What if she’d been in actual danger and had needed him? The thought was intolerable. Whether he liked it or not, he couldn’t just ignore her. The possible consequences were too severe.

He picks himself up off the couch with only a little bit of a lurch in balance, cursing this much smaller form and its much lower alcohol tolerance. Even before he’d been a curse he’d been capable of consuming incredibly inadvisable amounts of alcohol without flinching… alas, now he was in the body of a teenage girl. 

“Hey, wait a second!” 

He ignored Fushiguro and followed the blinding curse signature of their teacher, finding himself in a nearly claustrophobically crowded darkened room dancing with painfully bright strobe lights and far too many inebriated girls. He recognized them as Yuuki’s groupmates and her fellow freshmen Jujutsu sorcerer. There were other sorcerers he could vaguely recall Yuuki meeting, and of course the insufferable Gojo, sprawled on the couch nearest him looking thrilled with all the chaos he’s caused. 

He looked far too pleased with himself.

That wouldn’t do at all.

“Move over. You’re in my seat, sensei.” He has the distinct pleasure of watching the Six Eyes and Limitless User nearly jump out of his skin at the sudden and thoroughly unexpected curse energy of the King of Curses right at his ear. 

He’d been using a curse technique to keep his aura under wraps, as he always did when masquerading as Yuuki, and the opportunity had been too good to pass up. Even if that brief spike of curse energy drew the curious eye of the dark-haired boy awkwardly slumped into the seat nearest to the white-haired teacher. Sukuna meets the boy’s gaze with Yuuki’s big doe eyes; there’s something superemly fascinating about his own aura, as tightly wrapped as it is. And did he seriously bring a sword into a karaoke bar, wrapped up in cloth? Honestly. Jujutsu Sorcerers certainly earn their reputation as weirdos. The boy startles, and immediately looks back down. 

Sukuna peers down at Gojo beneath his lashes. In his defense, he recovers himself quite well. 

“Sukuna! Well aren’t you an unexpected edition!” Gojo enthuses, and does indeed scoot over. 

Impressively enough, Sukuna can’t tell if he’s genuinely pleased to see him, or if he’s just refusing to look startled  after being surprised like that.

(Probably a bit of both.)

“I didn’t expect you to be a fan of City Pop— are you and Megumi-kun going to duet next?” Gojo props an elbow onto the table in front of them, waving vaguely to Yuuki’s groupmate and a girl with green hair and glasses singing together at the front of the room. Then he leans closer, chin in hand. “Or did you come just for me?”

“Hardly, but you are the reason I’m here,” Sukuna counters dryly as he slides into the seat next to him, to the sorcerer’s surprise. “I’ve been told you’re the one to blame for Yuuki’s inadvisable alcohol consumption.”

Gojo laughs. “Man, two highballs and she was done, huh? Should’ve known.” He grins widely. “So next time I want to see you, I just have to buy Yuuki-chan a whiskey or two? That’s convenient.”

“Maybe for a bottle of ginjo-shu I’ll consider it,” he counters loftily. 

His eyebrows rise up over his impenetrable sunglasses in genuine surprise. “Is that so? I’ll have to keep that in mind.”

“Gojo!” The door opens behind Sukuna in a whoosh of cold air. “Have you seen—

Fushiguro falters as he catches sight of Yuuki’s sakura-pink head peering up at him, the demon masquerading in her body looking supremely unimpressed.

“You—” He grits out, brows knitted in both exasperation and irritation. “How did you do that?”

“Do what?” Sukuna blinks Yuuki’s innocent eyes at him. 

“Just— just disappear like that!” 

“I didn’t disappear, I walked.” Sukuna deadpans.

“You know what I mean.” Fushiguro denies, brow twitching.

Sukuna just shrugs. He’s hardly going to teach any of these sorcerers how to manipulate their curse energy to such a scrupulous degree as to make it seem to disappear entirely. 

“Did you think I’d left you to your fate?” He asks, coolly.

Fushiguro’s ears turn red. “That’s—! I mean, I don’t— 

“Fear not, I won’t leave you out to dry.” Sukuna interrupts him with an extravagant smirk. 

He moves to stand as Fushiguro sputters in the background. “Wait, hold on, you mean to say— you— you’re going to be the one to?!—”

Sukuna ignores his ineffectual attempts to get over his own mortification, facing the Six Eyes User with a predatory smile.

“For the record, we’re even now, but don’t think I’m going to let you get away with something like that again.”

Gojo blinks. “Hm?” 

And before the sorcerer can react, he plucks the shades off his nose. 

At such close proximity, he had no time to react. Honestly, Sukuna had half expected to be rebuffed by Infinity before he could swipe them, but either Gojo was truly too at ease with him, or he’d been very adamant in showing Sukuna just how unafraid of him he was after Sukuna’s little jump scare. While he could admit the little power plays between himself and the Six Eyes were endlessly entertaining, he really didn’t care that much to figure it out.

He grinned roguishly at Gojo’s outraged expression as he slipped the shades on over the bridge of his nose. He whirls around and simultaneously burns the alcohol in his system and wakes Yuuki from her drunken stupor. He drags a very confused looking Fushiguro in his wake, making for Takada’s impromptu stage.

“Yuuki. Your talents are needed.”

“Ehhh? Did I fall asleep?” She returns groggily. And then; “Whoa! Why’d the room get so dark?”

“I borrowed some accessories for your performance.”

“My performance? Wait, what? I’m performing?”

“A duet with Fushiguro, I’ve been told.” He replies demurely, as he gamely accepts the microphone from a giggling Takada. And if she throws herself across his shoulders and laughs effusively in his ear for a few moments while she does it, he sees no reason to throw her off. 

“You got Fushiguro to agree to sing? How’d you manage that?” Yuuki asks quizzically, evidently as bewildered by the idea of Fushiguro participating in this madness as Fushiguro himself.

“I had nothing to do with it. If I had to guess, however, I imagine one of your groupmates guilt-tripped him into it.”

“He does seem like the sort to fall for it everytime, huh?” Yuuki agrees, amused and totally unsympathetic. “What are we singing?”

“I have no idea what you are singing.” Sukuna sniffs. “Now that you’re properly returned, I’m going back to sleep.”

“Whaaaat, so soon?” Yuuki would never admit to it, but she sort of… missed his grumpy self. It felt like they hadn’t talked in ages. Which was crazy considering they were currently sharing the same body! “You should stay!” She blurts out, before she could think better of it. 

It’s just, she hasn’t talked to him in days, not even an uncharitable remark on the state of her hair or a quip about an unseemly director. And then he just suddenly shows up so out of the blue like this and she… doesn’t want him to just disappear again.

“What for?” Sukuna asked, skeptically.

“Well it’s just— we’re doing this since Choso hasn’t listened to a single piece of music in his entire existence, so this is, like, a crash course in music history.” She says, quickly. “Or well, it was supposed to be music history. But it’s turned into nothing but City Pop at this point.”

Sukuna scoffs.

“Wait, wait! Don’t leave!”

“I’m not leaving,” he reveals waspishly. Yuuki lets out an internal sigh of relief. “Who the hell knows what state you’ll end up in if I’m not watching.”

“I didn’t think those drinks would be that strong!” She protests, mainly on principle. Inwardly, she’s smiling too much in relief to truly be offended. “They usually skimp you at places like this!”

“Ehhh, Yuuki-chan you’re really going to duet with Fushiguro? Don’t let him off the hook so easily!” Nobara crows, wrenching Yuuki out of her conversation. “I picked this song especially for him!”

Yuuki looks back to the karaoke screen to see it’s queued for Anri’s Shyness Boy and nearly laughs herself to tears. Fushiguro, standing awkwardly hunched as he holds his microphone like a dead diseased rat, doesn’t look nearly as enthused. 

“Anri is a City Pop icon, Choso-kun,” Maya hiccups from where she’s wedged on the nearby couch between a stoic looking Choso and a starry-eyed Inumaki-kun. She’s probably drank twice as much as Yuuki has, but looks entirely unchanged aside from the high splotches of color on her cheeks. “And she’s recently made a huge comeback with all the new remixes out.” 

Nobara raises her phone high in the air. “Don’t think I’ll ever let you live this down, Fushiguro!” By her side, Maki is laughing so hard her glasses are fogging up.

Fushiguro’s shoulders crawl up towards his ears as he glowers at the floor.

Yuuki nudges him with an elbow. “Don’t worry Fushiguro-kun, I’ll steal the show out from right underneath you.”

“Thank god.” He opines, deadpan.

☆

Satoru is still smarting from being so effectively played, but hell if he lets anyone see that. 

Yuuta has curiously shuttled closer to his side of the long, u-shaped couch after watching his byplay with Sukuna from a distance. If anyone else in the room could have sensed that sudden, singular, terrifying spike of curse energy, aside from Satoru, it would have been Yuuta, so he probably has questions. Satoru already made sure to inform him about their newest student— he’s not that irresponsible about informing people of necessary information in a timely fashion, regardless of what his students might think— and her predicament, so he’s well aware of the special circumstances surrounding their resident idol.

He lets out a sharp breath, rolling his glass of soda water in his hands as he pretends to watch Fushiguro mumble his way through a pop song with a veritable pop star at his side. 

Satoru hasn’t felt that sort of precipitous, overwhelming fear surging through him all at once in… years. At least a decade. A threat, sudden and unencumbered, slicing beneath his guard just a hairsbreadth from his skin…

Did he do that on purpose? It’s true the door to the room and Satoru’s seat in relation meant that was the only probable way for Sukuna to sneak up on him, but it still seemed too coincidental, for him to be right there, in the same place where Fushiguro Toji’s blade had sunk into his scalp. 

And then he steals Satoru’s glasses right off his nose to top it off…

Satoru chuckles lowly. Well, as Sukuna pointed out, he was the one who started this. He should have known the King of Curses wouldn’t let something as appallingly patronizing as a headpat stand unavenged. 

“Err, Gojo-sensei,” Yuuta blinks up at him, unsure in a way Satoru hasn’t seen since before last year’s incident. “Was that… Ryomen Sukuna?”

His lips curl in a parody of a smile. “What gave it away?”

“I thought I felt something— just for a second.” Yuuta frowns. “But then it just… totally disappeared. How’s that possible?”

“I wish I knew.” It explained a lot about how he managed to escape the notice of the Jujutsu World for so long, despite being so powerful.

When he wasn’t bothering to hide it, Sukuna’s unburdened curse aura was the stuff of legends. But hiding within Yuuki, he could appear like any normal human. And beyond that, apparently he could even get his baseline so low it blended in with the ambient energy existing around them, using it as camouflage. In theory not at all like Toji, whose presence was just staggeringly empty. But the execution was similar, in practice. Satoru consoled himself with the realization that Sukuna’s trick wouldn’t work if they weren’t surrounded by a great deal of regular people, curse users, and curse energy currently. And also, it was definitely his damn fault for turning off his Infinity. 

Yuuta turns away, watching as Yuuki slings an arm over Fushiguro’s shoulders as she belts out the last chorus in the song. Fushiguro looks long-suffering and resigned to his fate— he might even be enjoying himself, from the way his shoulders have stopped crowding up to his ears and returned to regular humanoid shape. Probably because Yuuki was more than making up for his lackluster ability. Even Nobara looked dismayed by how good they were doing.

“She’s rather— unexpected, huh?” He observes drily, lips quirking up.

“Yuuki-chan, you mean?” Satoru clarifies. Yuuta nods. 

It’s true, Sukuna is a bewildering and fascinatingly complex puzzle entirely unlike what Satoru would have expected from his reputation. His relationship with Yuuki especially. But Yuuki herself was also… quite special. She had to be, to become the vessel for the King of Curses. Satoru had a hard time figuring her out, honestly. She always seemed so lively and enthusiastic for everything in life— could that really just be her personality? Surely not even the most resilient of idols could continue to be so upbeat when they had to carry around something as dreadful as the King of Curses. 

It occurs to him, with no small amount of bemusement, that he’s probably talked with Sukuna more than he has his own student.

If he’s having trouble figuring her out, that might be part of the problem.

Satoru leans back in his seat. “Yeah, she’s something alright.”

“Well, she did steal your sunglasses right off your face.” Yuuta points out, amused.

Satoru grins. “Actually, that was Sukuna.”

Yuuta chokes. “What?!”

His head whips back to the front of the room, where Yuuki is bowing graciously to a round of applause. 

“Then— right now— ?!”

Satoru chuckles. “No, no, they switched back before that.” Without his sunglasses as a buffer, his Six Eyes could tell the exact second Yuuki took over. 

And how intriguing that was, to see it was still Sukuna in control when Takada all but leapt into his arms. He didn’t even brush her off. Actually, he just steadied her before she knocked them both over in her inebriated excitement, and then didn’t bother to extract himself afterwards. 

(What? No he’s not jealous. Not at all! Nevermind the fact that Sukuna blew out a wall when he gave him a little head pat, and meanwhile let's a girl sprawl all over him without even a twitch in expression.)

“Still, from what I’ve heard about him, I would have thought he’d burn this whole place down before playing along.” Yuuta noted, looking thoughtful.

Satoru turns towards him, brow raised. “And? What do you think of him now?”

He was truly interested to hear the second-year’s opinion on the matter.

Yuuta looks considering. Then he shrugs. “I just— I dunno. I’d have to observe a bit more but from what I can see…” He trails off, expression forlorn. “I’m a bit… jealous.”

“Jealous?” Now that was unexpected. 

Yuuta nods, something bashful in the way he looks down at his hands. “Just— they must have a nice relationship.”

“Nice?” Satoru blinks rapidly. 

“I really don’t think humoring humans and singing karaoke is in his nature,” Yuuta points out, dry as a bone. “And yet, he still plays along. That was always so difficult, with Rika-chan.”

“Don’t misunderstand him, Yuuta-kun,” Satoru says, seriously. “He’s no less dangerous just because he’s lying low. If anything, he’s even more dangerous because of it.”

“Don’t worry sensei, I know.” And something about his tone, so full of loss and regret, makes Satoru certain he really does understand. 

They’re both quiet as there’s a commotion of discussion on the other side of the couches. Fushiguro has squirreled himself into the far corner where he probably thinks no one can pry him out to get him to sing again, right at the perfect distance to have Kugisaki’s elbows in his face every other second as she gesticulates wildly. At least he’s relatively safe on the other side, with the dour and stoic looking half-curse blocking him from the riot of Yuuki’s groupmates. 

Yuuki, still holding one of the microphones, is halfway over the table as she seems to be in an in depth conversation with Inumaki. 

“It’s alright to miss her,” he says, into the lull of their conversation.

Yuuta lets out a gusty breath. “I— I know. But… I know it's better this way.” 

There’s peace in death, after all. Jujutsu Sorcerers know that better than anyone.

Still, he considers Yuuta’s words as Yuuki somehow— somehow— manages to coerce Inumaki to take a microphone. He’s only mildly worried about it; Inumaki knows his curse powers better than any of them. He relaxes fully when it becomes clear after the first few beats of Mariya Takeuchi’s iconic Plastic Love that Yuuki has convinced him to hum the harmonies with her as they accompany the brunette in her idol group. Not Takada, but the other one. Mia, maybe? Belatedly, he realizes how much shit they’re all going to get from Todo when the sorcerer realizes they had a karaoke date with Takada and he missed it. 

They actually don’t do a half bad job of it; the whole room is singing along by the time the chorus hits. Unsurprisingly Yuuki’s group mates are just as incredible singers as she is. And it's easier to focus on the disco lights and the harmonies then his own thoughts on death, and people who would have been much better off if they could have found peace in it.

Satoru sighs. And here he’d been doing such a good job of not thinking about the curse using Suguru from the grave. 

It’s just been years since he’s met his match in any respect. Be that in curse energy, cleverness, or just someone who wouldn’t let him walk all over them. Shoko doesn’t, but mainly because she just flat out ignores him when he’s being annoying. Nanami is similar, but more resigned about it. Suguru had always been the one who got up in his face whenever he was being particularly bratty, and never let him get away with it. But he was fine with what he had now, though. He’d always been alone at the top, looking down at the world from his lonesome dynasty. People came and went, but Satoru alone was the honored one.

And then the King of Curses had to come and flip the whole paradigm around.

His lips tilt upwards at the thought.

Say what you will about Ryomen Sukuna— most of it will be true— but he’s the farthest thing from uninteresting.

Ginjo-shu, huh? Satoru doesn’t normally like to drink, but maybe he’ll have to make an exception. 

☆

For such an unexpected and unplanned outing, it really turned out well. 

Choso probably didn’t learn a damn thing about music, and he didn’t look particularly enthused by any of their renditions of any of the classics, but Yuuki suspected he actually appreciated the pretense anyway. It was a novel experience for him, and she’d noticed he was always very attentive and interested in those. As if he was recording it all to memory, to one day tell his siblings who couldn’t experience it. 

Chisato, Takada, and Maya, all being closer to Gojo-sensei’s age than her own (and hadn’t that been a weird realization to make) were well beyond tipsy by the time they stumbled out of their karaoke room, giggling effusively together. Gojo himself, despite being the one proliferating the steady clip of alcohol throughout the room all night, seemed stone cold sober. Nobara and Maki-senpai had happily swiped a few rounds when it became clear no one was about to card their party, as did the newly introduced Yuuta-senpai, freshly back from an overseas mission. Fushiguro was still stubbornly sober, even though a bit of liquid courage probably would have done him a world of good in there, and Inumaki-senpai seemed more intrigued in the fruity juice drinks on the menu than the gratuitous helpings of Yebisu being passed around. Yuuki herself had had the whiskey burned right out of her by Sukuna earlier, and was perky and alert as they were all buffeted by a strong gust of winter air as they exited the building.

“Whoa it’s so cold! It’s really almost Christmas!” Maya bemoans as she huddles into her coat, swaying into Inumaki-senpai. He nods in agreement with a rare smile; this seemed to be more than enough encouragement for Maya to continue. “I haven’t even thought about presents yet! I can’t keep getting everyone socks!” She wailed, sounding crushed.

Takada raises a bare hand. “I always like gloves. I feel like they always disappear before I remember where I put them.”

Yuuki just knew if Todo was here, he’d have offered to warm her hands personally. She internally rolled her eyes at the thought.

“Hats too.” Nobara agrees with a shudder as she flips her hood up. “Whoever said hair works as insulation is a fucking liar.”

“I can never wear a hat without ruining a hairstyle,” Chisato laments. Unlike the rest of them, she looks thoroughly unmoved by the veritable blizzard overtaking Tokyo around them. “We’re already in Shinjuku, should we see about getting some shopping done?”

“In this cold?” Maki-senpai squawks, incredulous.

Chisato blinks. “Is it really that cold?”

There’s unanimous agreement from everyone, including Fushiguro and Choso, who have made strange bedfellows over the course of the evening as the two least likely to willingly converse and most bewildered by the female race. 

They chatter a bit more before going their separate ways; her group mates back in the direction of their apartments, with possible shopping stops on the way, and the sorcerers to the nearest warm restaurant serving edible food. Yuuki manages to convince Choso to join her group mates instead of her— and while she says ‘convince’, she finds he really didn’t need as much convincing as she’d expected. She chalks it up to his weird mutual-dislike possible intrigue he’s got going with Chisato. She knows he’s wary of Jujutsu sorcerers and all, but she can take care of herself. Plus, they’re at least nominally on the same side right now. 

The closest warm enclosed space offering food ends up being a cramped Yakitori joint, and they all squeeze into the last open booth in the back as they shed their winter coats into a pile larger than their heads. Yuuki ends up squished into the back of the leather couch with Gojo’s supremely lanky form sprawled on one side and the hunched ball of the newly introduced sorcerer—Okkotsu Yuuta, her mind supplies— trying to take up as little space as possible on her other side. 

“Gojo, get your stupid long legs out of here!” Maki complains as she flops into the rickety seat across from him, kicking his legs underneath the table. 

“Ehhh? But Maki-chan, what do you want me to do with them?”

“Chop em’ off!”

“Maki-chan is so cruel!”

Inumaki perches on the chair next to her before Nobara can steal it, eliciting a cry of dismay from the freshman. While she’s screeching Fushiguro claims the last one; with no small amount of grumbling she shoves Yuuta and climbs into the booth with them. Yuuki is almost in Gojo’s lap with Yuuta half in hers, and it should be uncomfortable but she actually finds it rather nice. The feeling of other people close enough to touch has always been something she secretly craves even if she rarely acts on it. It’s why she has a reputation for ‘glomping’ her group mates whenever they’re on tv shows. 

It’s something about all the noise and chaos and breathing bodies close to her that reminds her she’s not alone. It’s too pleasant to dislike.

“Ne, Yuuki-chan, are you going to hog my glasses all night?” Gojo asks, and although his tone is light and teasing she immediately feels bad.

“Ah! Sorry sensei! You can have them back now.” 

She doesn’t know very much about his curse technique, but she can imagine it must be very tiring, or at the very least irritating, to go without them for too long. She pulls them off her face and blinks rapidly as ninety percent of the color and light in the world comes back into focus. She didn’t realize how little she was seeing until they were gone; then again, this is the man who regularly wears a blindfold voluntarily. It’s probably not much of a hazard for him. 

Yuuki holds them out to him, only belatedly realizing he has no way of taking them from her. One of his hands is still hovering over the table holding all of their menus aloft— there’s absolutely no space on these mashed together two-tops to possibly hold their drinks, plates, order numbers and phones along with them— and the other is thoroughly squished behind her somewhere in the approximation of Yuuta’s left shoulder. She could just swap him for the menus, but that seems like too much of a hassle when she can just plop them on his nose herself.

Her angle is crooked so she has to fix them so the frames aren’t lopsided, leaning in even closer to him than she had been earlier. The result is her getting very up close and personal with those eyes of his.

Ah… they really are something else up close, she can’t help but think, a bit mesmerized. 

For a curse technique, the Six Eyes look positively heavenly. They scintillate like diamonds in the low light, prismatic and radiant, an interminable color that seems to swallow up the whole room. She's never seen a color so mesmerizing, turquoise and aquamarine as vivid and alive as a swirling nebula. He blinks a fray of pearlescent lashes, and Yuuki realizes she’s way too close, and staring way too hard. She unceremoniously plops them on his nose without further ado, and leans away before those celestial eyes can ensnare her once again. 

“Those eyes give him a terrible evolutionary advantage,” Yuuki laments, dazed. And she’s not even referring to their deadly curse technique.

Sukuna snorts. “Sure. Like nice spots on a poison dart frog.”

Her lips twitch upwards. “You really have been watching too much Planet Earth.”

“Yuuki-channn! Help! They’re all crooked!” Gojo whines, predictably.

Maki kicks him under the table. “Fix them yourself!”

“Maki-chan, you’re so mean when you drink you know!”

“Who’s fault is it for giving underage kids alcohol anyway?!”

Yuuki can’t help but giggle at their antics. 

Still, as nice as it is to be so surrounded by people, it is pretty stuffy in this tiny restaurant. And she’s still shoved into the sliver of space under Gojo’s shoulder with Yuuta’s hunched form in front of her. If she tries to reach around him, she’s going to end up even more in Gojo’s lap.

“Okkotsu-senpai, can you hand me a glass of water?” She asks, under the cacophony of Gojo and Maki’s arguing.

He does a double take when he sees her awkwardly wedged behind him. “Huh? Ah, sure.” 

“Thanks.” She takes the proffered glass and promptly downs half of it. 

When she comes up for air, she sees Yuuta’s still staring at her.

She blinks, back, not particularly intimidated or uncomfortable. It’s not the sort of stares of adoration she gets from fans, nor the ones with the slightly obsessive gleam to them that always have her calling security immediately. If anything, he just looks rather contemplative. 

“Something on my face?” She asks, only half-joking. She’s notorious for it.

Yuuta seems to realize he’d been staring, face coloring. “Uh— no! Sorry, I just…”

Yuuki waits patiently as he appears to struggle to find the words he wants to say. Todo had made a comment about him once, something about how he’s the strongest sorcerer in the school, and a special grade— the highest ranking in Jujutsu Sorcerery. Looking at him now, Yuuki can’t really see it. Then again, she’s supposedly listed as a special grade too, so who’s she to say? 

“It’s strange to finally meet you, I guess.” He finishes quietly, looking down.

“Really? In what way?” She assumes he must have heard of her predicament prior to this. 

“Well, we’re so similar. In our situations, and yet…” He trails off, looking conflicted. “Actually, we’re not very much alike at all, are we?”

Yuuki blinks, not sure what to say.

All she knows of Yuuta comes from offhand remarks from everyone else; he’s apparently a pretty good swordsman, is registered as a special grade sorcerer, and has the potential to one day surpass Gojo as the best (Gojo’s words, so she assumes there’s real merit to that). Personality wise she doesn’t know much, just that he’s on the quieter side and easily gets bullied by Maki-senpai. She doesn’t know much about his curse technique either, although she’d heard it was monstrous.

“I— I didn’t mean that in a bad way!” Yuuta blurts out hastily, realizing how his prior comment could be construed. He looks away again, ears turning red. “You’re just… so strong.”

Yuuki didn’t know what she was expecting, but it wasn’t that. She grimaces at the remark; he probably meant it to be complimentary, but what with her conflicted history in regards to her own bullish strength,  it’s hard to take it that way.

Fortunately he doesn’t seem to notice her discomfort. “With Rika… I couldn’t handle it at all. I locked myself away because I was scared to hurt people, because I had no control.” He sighs, shaking his head. “And yet you’re the vessel for the King of Curses himself, and that’s not stopping you at all.”

Yuuki tilts her head. “Why would it?”

Yuuta’s mouth twitches upwards. “That’s exactly what I mean.” He says, which isn’t much of an answer.

He shakes his head again, this time in wonder. “It really doesn’t bother you at all, huh?”

“Sukuna, you mean?” She clarifies. And then, to his nod; “I mean, he can be suuuuper annoying sometimes—

“I’M the annoying one?!” Sukuna protests, offended.

“—and all this Jujutsu stuff is kinda weird, but I can’t just let it get to me when so many people are relying on me.” Yuuki finishes, resolutely. “I became an idol because I wanted to make people smile; because there’s already so much darkness and tragedy in this world and I want my mark to be one of happiness when I leave it. So I’m not gonna stop now, because when I die, I want to be surrounded by people whose hearts I’ve managed to touch even if it’s just in a small way, and know I’ve made things better for them even if it’s by just a little bit.”

Yuuta looks genuinely touched, which is a little embarrassing. 

It’s not quite the usual spiel she gives out whenever she gets asked this question on radio interviews or tv shows. She usually just spins Pastel Palette’s ‘make the world smile’ catchphrase in some manner, and if she’s really connecting with the interviewer, she’ll add her own insecurities as a girl who felt she didn’t fit in and how she wants to be a role model for other girls like her. But she’s never mentioned the promise her grandfather imparted to her on her deathbed, a promise that probably encouraged her to become an idol in the first place. 

“I see.” Yuuta smiles softly. “That’s… a really nice dream.”

“Thanks!” Yuuki grins brightly. “I’m not giving up on it, no matter what Sukuna says!”

Yuuta tilts his head curiously. “You two… do you talk often?”

She shrugs, or as much as she can when Gojo is still whining over her. Maki looks ready to toss all her fried chicken in his face. Inumaki, meanwhile, is casually stealing skewers off her plate when she’s too preoccupied with Gojo to notice. 

“Yeah, sometimes.” She replies, evasively, not sure how he’d take the truth.

Yuuta just nods, not looking remotely horrified by the news. “That’s nice,” he says, which is not at all what she expected him to say. “Rika and I— we never really spoke. Not unless I was begging her to do something. To stop hurting people, or to stop people from hurting others. We never just— just talked, like we used to.”

Yuuki frowns. “Was Rika… your curse?”

He chuckles mirthlessly. “Actually, I cursed her.” He reveals. “I couldn’t accept the circumstances, and in the end, she’s the one who suffered for it.”

“How fascinating.” Sukuna says. 

“How awful!” Yuuki counters. 

“To manage to attach a special grade curse to himself in such a manner… he’s quite the sorcerer. I have no doubt he’s got something interesting in that lineage of his.”

Yuuki doesn’t know what to make of that. Interesting lineage or not, in front of her is a boy grieving for someone who meant a lot to him. Someone he feels he’s wronged, in a way he can never truly apologize for it. 

She doesn’t think there’s anything she could possibly say or do to make him feel better about it, so she supposes the least she can do is answer him honestly this time. 

“Sukuna and I talk a lot,” she admits. She wouldn’t, normally, but she thinks Yuuta might be the only person who could ever understand her, even accept her, when it comes to this. “He can be really funny sometimes, especially when he doesn’t mean to. He loves nature documentaries. I think I’m this close to finally getting him into The Office, even if he won’t admit to it.”

Yuuta listens with wide eyes.

Yuuki would say more, but Sukuna is already raising holy hell over this much so she stops with a wince. Yuuta catches her pained expression and his eyes widen further. “And he’s a pretty private guy, so I should probably stop talking now.” She adds, grimacing. 

He nods wordlessly, looking a little overwhelmed. He’d probably be even more overwhelmed if he could hear the inner shouting match Yuuki and Sukuna have gotten into, resulting in the mental equivalent of a cat fight. 

“Do you think I could talk to him?” he says, which is enough to have both Yuuki and Sukuna screeching to a halt.

“... Huh?”

“Nevermind, sorry if that’s a weird thing to ask.” Yuuta backtracks hastily.

Yuuki shakes her head. “No, it’s fine, it’s just—

It’s such a subtle thing, which is surprising in and of itself. But subtleness in Jujutsu requires fastidious, nearly dogmatic levels of control over curse energy, so it’s no surprise a master of Jujutsu, the King of Curses himself, is capable of it. And yet his reputation for loud, explosive and unmitigated chaos would infer otherwise.  

In one moment he’s talking to Itadori Yuuki, a sixteen year-old pop idol sensation. And with a blink, he’s face to face with the King of Curses. Aside from the crimson eyes, there’s no physical difference and yet the change is jarring nonetheless. It’s all in the expression; something open and curious in one moment, amused and indolent in the next. And the slightest change in curse energy, something he doubts he’d even have noticed if he wasn’t literally touching him. 

“You wanted something, sorcerer?”

Yuuta’s mouth opens, but no words manage to get out.

Yes, he did have the inadvisable urge to speak to the double faced specter in person, but now that the opportunity has presented itself he’s at a bit of a loss. Even without the terrifying, monstrous physical form and the equally monstrous curse aura, there’s still something aggressively intimidating to him. Which should be impossible, because Yuuki is truly the least intimidating person he’s ever met, and they’re sharing a body. 

While Yuuta attempts to get his voice to work again, the King of Curses dismisses him in favor of a more pressing concern. Mainly, their unfortunate seating situation.

He looks hilariously squished into Gojo-sensei’s side, knees knocking into Yuuta’s as he struggles to get out of his uncomfortable position. Yuuta would try to help, but he’s equally as pressed in, with Nobara gesticulating wildly on his other side to a patently unimpressed Fushiguro. 

Finally, Sukuna seems to give it up as a lost cause and shoves himself into Gojo-sensei’s lap.

Yuuta quietly tries not to expire at the sight. 

Gojo is so surprised he actually stops mid sentence. Upon further inspection, his sensei doesn’t look surprised to see Sukuna instead of Yuuki— he likely sensed the change, if Yuuta was able to—  but rather, shocked by the curse's unabashed insolence. Or maybe he's just shocked to find someone with as little regard for personal space as he has? Hard to say, because Yuuta cannot think of a single person he knows who would just… sit in Gojo Satoru’s lap like that. Sensei just had that sort of unapproachable and inaccessible quality to him— not aloof persay, but also not remotely available for things like emotional problems, or lap sitting. Clearly Sukuna was immune to that impenetrable barrier, or maybe just didn’t care.

“There, isn’t that better?” He drawls, looking for all the world as if he’s turned Gojo’s lap into his personal throne. Gojo, for his part, looks torn between amusement and bewilderment.

“Actually, yes.” Kugsaki agrees after a beat, then hip checks Yuuta further into the booth so she’s no longer halfway off it, and immediately goes back to lecturing Fushiguro on his appalling social media etiquette.

She’s right, but Yuuta still spares a concerned glance towards sensei, worried they’ve all prioritized their own comfort in favor of his own. But he doesn’t look terribly put upon by the turn of events. 

“Sukuna, twice in one night? If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were looking for excuses to see me!” Gojo greets his new companion cheerfully.

Yuuta chokes. So does Maki. Fortunately— or maybe unfortunately, as he’s the only one with any small chance of stopping this train wreck— Toge is too entrenched in Kugisaki’s lecture to notice the sudden silence at their end of the table. 

“Good thing you know better.” Sukuna snorts. 

“Oh I do, do I?” 

Yuuta watches on, aghast, as their sensei antagonizes the most dangerous curse in existence.

“I would hope so. Unless you want me to forcefully change your mind.”

Gojo just waggles his eyebrows over his shades. “You wanna fight then?”

Sensei, no!!! He’s fairly certain he can hear his exact sentiments echoing in Maki’s head across from him, in perfect unison.

Blessedly, Sukuna just snorts and dismisses him with a turn of his chin. “Che. As if I’d ruin this outfit just for that.”

“It is a nice outfit,” Maki mutters in reluctant agreement.

Gojo leans back, sprawling out even more now that the booth has more space. “Well. Who’s the boring one now, huh?”

“Gojo, what the hell are you doing,” Maki hisses, incensed, evidently unable to take any more of their sensei’s iconic brand of insanity. It’s probably for the best, because at this rate sensei’s going to have them all gleefully eviscerated. 

Sukuna answers before he can; “He’s just being overprotective in the most obnoxious way possible,” he remarks, sounding bored, “by trying to piss me of to gauge if I’m in the mood to set this whole place on fire or not.”

Yuuta and Maki both look at him with a newfound respect. It’s really something else, to be able to tease out the actual intentions from behind Gojo’s categorically outlandish behaviors. 

“Are you?” He asks it cheerfully, but now they both can hear the sharp undertone beneath.

Sukuna just scoffs. “Fuck no. It’s hot enough in here already.”

The response is so unflappable and yet so unflinchingly accurate Yuuta can’t help but let out an amused huff of breath. 

The curse crosses his arms, looking perfectly at ease, perhaps even regal, from the insouciant throne he’s made out of Gojo. “So? You said you wanted to speak to me, sorcerer. I hope for your sake it’s an entertaining topic, otherwise I really might just start burning things for amusement.”

Yuuta thinks he’s joking. Hopefully. Oh god.

“Uh— well, I mean—” Put on the spot like this, he’s helplessly tongue tied. And of course Maki and Gojo-sensei are listening as well. But on the off chance boring Sukuna really will have lethal consequences, he tries to push on. “I didn’t mean to make such a big deal out of it. I just wanted to know… what happens to curses when they’re exorcised.”

Sukuna blinks.

At the very least, he’s at least managed to catch him off guard. 

“What the hell kind of question is that?”

He feels the tips of his ears burn as he stumbles through; “I— there was a special grade curse, but she left. There’s no literature on what happens to curses after they’ve left, so I guess I just thought, I may as well ask.”

Sukuna doesn’t say anything, as he uncrosses his arms. But he also doesn’t look like he’s about to go off on a killing spree out of unmitigated boredom.

“You want to know what happens to curses after they’re gone, huh?” He repeats, turning the question over with a seriousness Yuuta honestly hadn’t expected. “Well, was she exorcised or did she leave?”

“Ah— huh?” Yuuta blinks rapidly.

Sukuna drums his fingers on the table. “Those are two different things. Leaving, or being exorcised.”

Oh. Oh. Right, of course. His eyes flicker anxiously towards Gojo-sensei. “Um, I— I think she left? I didn’t exorcise her, at least. I didn’t mean to curse her, and when I broke the curse, she… she said goodbye and left.”

His sensei gives him a thumbs up, so that’s probably a good enough account of what happened after Suguru’s Night Parade.

Sukuna tilts his head, looking at him like he’s an interesting puzzle he wants to solve. The look is… alarming, to say the least, even coming from the gaze of a cute sixteen year-old pop star. 

“What kind of curse was she?”

“... Special grade?”

Sukuna rolls his eyes. “No,” the you idiot is silent but heavily implied. “Was she a nature spirit? A manifestation of some kind of emotion? A result of some kind of catastrophe?”

“Oh. Oh! No. She was a person.”

“A person,” a delicate brow raises with disbelief, and that gleaming look if interest gets worse. “Huh. Well, if she decided to move on, then I wouldn’t worry about it. That’s basically the same thing as any human dying, just with a detour or two.” 

“Oh,” Yuuta says again. He nods. “I see, well that’s…” He sighs. “At least she’s not in pain, anymore.”

Sukuna just gives him a weird look at that. “Being a curse isn’t painful.”

“Really?” He asks, confused.

“Yes, really.” Sukuna retorts, a cross between amused and dismissive. 

“You’re sure? Not even for humans?”

He rolls his eyes grandly. “Are you seriously questioning me right now? Considering I was once a human, and am now a curse, I think I would know.” 

Yuuta looks sheepish at that. “Ah, fair point.”

Sukuna turns a narrow gaze Gojo’s way, where the man is watching him with unabashed interest. “What? Have something to add, sensei?” 

“No, no, just surprised.” Gojo replies smoothly. “Nobara-chan said you were a pretty good teacher and I hadn’t believed her at the time.”

Sukuna just shoots him a severely unimpressed look. “Well in comparison to you, I imagine everyone is good.”

Gojo’s mouth drops open in outrage. Maki laughs so hard she starts to choke. Yuuta is too sweet of a person to agree outright, but he’s hardly leaping to Gojo’s defense either.

Actually, Satoru is not even remotely offended by the remark, mainly because he’s well aware it’s entirely true. He’s a categorically awful teacher. He doesn’t have the patience for it, has always been outrageously good at everything he’s done within seconds of doing it so he can’t really gauge what’s a realistic progression for mastering a technique, and has the emotional availability of a pet rock. 

Nonetheless he feigns moral offense, because it’s the principle of the thing. Sure he might be terrible, but Ryomen Sukuna being better than him is just outrageous.

Sukuna looks far too smug as he swipes a yakitori off of Inumaki’s hoarded pile, biting into it with relish. “What, nothing to say in defense, sensei?”

He wonders how the curse always manages to make the title sound like the punchline of a secret joke he doesn’t remember them sharing— the exact opposite of Yuuki, who uses it like a weapon of charmingly sweet destruction.

Satoru sniffs, turning his nose up. 

Sukuna must take it as some kind of universal surrender, looking rather triumphant as he polishes off the rest of his chicken. As he tosses the skewer back onto the plate, those eyes blink once, and suddenly they’re a warm gold. 

“Hey, this chicken is actually pretty good.” Yuuki enthuses, sounding impressed as she chews.

Satoru is fairly certain he could see that switch a thousand times and still be quietly awed by the flawless transition. Yuuta looks equally stunned beside him. Maki, having recovered most of her respiratory abilities, also stares blankly at the returned idol.

Then he just shakes his head and laughs, because what else can he do. “Isn’t it? We should order more!”

☆

All the Jujutsu students complain mightily when Satoru has them take the city bus back to campus, but none of them are capable of teleporting and there’s no way in hell they’ll take a cab that far so there’s really nothing for it. He insists he has to take Yuuki home instead of joining them, even as she protests this. 

(“Eh? But Yuuki-chan, what kind of sensei would I be if I let my poor little student wander alone at this time of night?”

“I’m hardly alone, sensei.”)

It’s hardly even an unreasonable request. Sure, Yuuki isn’t actually alone, but no one on the street is going to know that. It would look terribly irresponsible of him to let her walk off alone. Also, it’s a perfect opportunity to get her alone that doesn’t involve sneaking into her dorm room at questionable hours. 

Privately, Yuuki has to admit Gojo-sensei was probably onto something. She hadn’t realized how late it had gotten until they’d split up and she’d taken stock of the surprisingly quiet Shinjuku streets. They were never this quiet, unless it was the absolute dead of night; even then there were the muffled sounds of raucous bars up and down the street, still flush with people. Every storefront or so they’d cross paths with either a loud and laughing group on their way to their next bar, or a stumbling drunk who’d had way too much to drink. 

As Yuuki had pointed out, she was hardly alone, and beyond that hardly helpless. But Gojo still probably had the right of it, unfortunately. A middle-aged man with a leering face crowded up just a bit too close to her given the spacious walkway around them, crooning about her pretty face, and Yuuki realized with dismay that her only real options were to escalate the situation by punching him in the mouth, or hoping he’d just go away if she walked fast enough. And as much as she’d be happy to make a scene, she had her group’s reputation to think of— the pastel pink charm of Pastel Palettes could hardly be seen beating up drunk in the middle of Shinjuku, as much as she might like to. 

But with Gojo-sensei here, he just had to put his arm around her and tug her closer to his side and the man backed off with only minimal grumbling about how ‘the pretty ones were always taken’. 

Yuuki barely had the presence of mind to thank him, distracted by having to wrestle Sukuna down from lighting the guy on fire just for daring to look at her (them) the wrong way. Not that it was really working— mainly she was just doing the mental equivalent of sitting on him and wailing loud enough that he’d give up just to save his own eardrums. 

“You doing okay, Yuuki-chan?”

Gojo’s voice drags her out of her subconscious, and she blinks a few times to clear her head. “Ah, sorry about that! I’m fine sensei, just… reminding Sukuna that lighting people on fire is a felony.”

He peers back at the drunkard, now stumbling into the guard rail. “Yeah, I’m sure he’s killed people for less.” 

“Damn fucking right,” a belligerent mouth agrees, forming on the back of her hand. 

Yuuki gasps and slaps her other hand over it, looking around furiously. “Not in the middle of the street Sukuna, seriously!”

Not even photoshop would be a reasonable excuse if footage got out of Yuuki growing a talking mouth on the back of her hand. Sukuna’s normally pretty good about it— or rather, he’s usually ambivalent enough about her surroundings not to bother with the effort of manifesting outside her conscious— which just goes to show how worked up he is. Yuuki should probably give up sleep as a lost cause at this point, and let him roam around when they get back in search of curses to burn off energy. As long as he heals up the circles under her eyes before their photoshoot tomorrow morning, it should be fine.

Meanwhile, Satoru watches his newest student with blatant fascination as she argues with her infamously vicious tenant. 

“So how much of this is you controlling Sukuna, and how much is it him letting you do it?” He wonders aloud, because it’s something he’s been curious about and he figures he may as well just ask her outright. He hasn’t managed to figure the answer with his Six Eyes, so there’s probably no other way to get it if he really wants to know.

“Huh?” 

He gestures to her with a wave of his finger. “Y’know, this whole back and forth thing you’ve got going.”

“Oh, that!” Yuuki nods. “I let him out.” 

Satoru blinks, not expecting such a direct response. “Really?”

It’s not that he doesn’t believe her, it’s just that, well— that should be impossible. Absolutely impossible. A totally normal girl with no curse energy or lineage of curse users swallows one of Ryomen Sukuna’s fingers and not only lives to tell the tale, but suppresses the King of Curses himself? Even at one finger, he should have overpowered her easily. And now, at thirteen? It’s absurd. 

It reminds him a lot of another anomalous situation with a student and a curse, not that long ago.

In the end, he and Yuuta ended up sharing a notoriously powerful ancestor, Michizane Sugawara. He has to imagine Yuuki’s situation is similar in nature somehow, but so far Ijichi hasn’t managed to scrounge up any information that might be helpful. Yuuki’s entire family— although it gets spotty around the Meiji period— is full of normal humans. They must be missing something, he decides. Some piece of the puzzle that’s been overlooked. 

“Yeah, he’s not happy about it though.” Yuuki confirms with a laugh.

Again, maybe just asking outright might shed some light on the predicament. “Ne, Yuuki-chan, you said you lived with your grandfather growing up right?”

“Yep! In Sendai.” Yuuki nods. “Why?”

Satoru makes a noncommittal noise. “Well, you know you’re not really siblings with that death painting, right?”

Yuuki laughs. “Oh yeah, I know. I just call him nii-chan ‘cause he likes it.”

That’s… yeah no, that’s got bizarre sister complex written all over it and he has no desire to get into it right now.

“But both your parents only had one child— you. You know that, right?”

“Yeah I know that.” Yuuki looks confused. “Why?” 

“Just making sure!” He hedges her off with a grin, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “But you don’t know of any curse users in your family history, do you? Even just a weird rumor about some crazy old uncle who lives out in the sticks and thinks he can talk to ghosts or something?”

Yuuki taps her chin, pursing her lips. “Hmm… I don’t think so, sensei. Jii-chan didn’t really talk all that much about his family, but it wasn’t very big and I don’t think there was anyone weird like that. He didn’t know much about my kaa-chan’s side though, so I can’t speak for them.” 

Which aligns pretty much with what Satoru’s managed to find out. Yuuki’s father, Itadori Jin, died under mysterious circumstances and left his one year-old daughter in the care of his own father, Wasuke. The Itadori family is sparse but straightforward; it’s Yuuki’s mother’s family where things get spotty. 

Itadori Jin’s first wife, Kaori, was unable to have children. While she too is deceased, there were a few anecdotes of shamans in her family history. But Yuuki isn’t Kaori’s child— she’s the child of Itadori Jin and his second wife, also deceased, who doesn’t appear to have any history of… anything. Satoru couldn’t find much, but what he did was so emphatically normal it screamed fake, and no leads ever turned up anything. A veneer that looked fine on paper, but didn't hold up to any real scrutiny. There isn't even a photo of the couple together. In fact, there's not even a marriage certificate. The only real evidence that she even existed at all is her name on Yuuki's birth certificate, and the legal document that signed over legal guardianship from the 'second wife' to Yuuki's grandfather upon Itadori Jin's mysterious death. He's uncertain how much Yuuki even knows of her own history, so he hesitates to bring it up. 

“I see. Maybe your abilities came from her side then.”

“Abilities?” Yuuki looks up at him curiously.

Ah. Has he really not explained that? Oof. She’s supposed to be his student here, and that’s fairly fundamental information about the Jujutsu World.

“Sure— a lot of them run in families, like my Six Eyes and Limitless technique. Or Megumi’s shadow technique.” 

Yuuki makes a noise of understanding. “Right, Sukuna mentioned that. He said the Gojo clan was a pretty famous one, and so are the Zen’in. And there are three, right?”

Gojo-sensei:0 Sukuna-sensei:1

Satoru brow twitches. His pride can’t accept this.

“Yeah. The last one is the Kamo clan. They’re not the only clans of Jujutsu users that have cursed techniques passed down, but they are probably the most famous. Inumaki-kun’s cursed speech is another example.”

“Ahhh,” Yuuki makes a noise of recognition. “And you think I might be distantly related to one of them?”

“It’s certainly possible.” He affirms. “Like Yuuta-kun and I— we share a distant ancestor.”

“So we might be related, sensei?” Yuuki giggles. “Sorry, but I just can’t see it!”

“Distantly related.” He amends with a shrug. Honestly, he can’t either. Even if it was someone as removed as Michizane Sugawara. 

“But even if we were, I probably wouldn’t have eyes like yours, right?”

“Right. These are pretty rare, and you’d have them at birth if you did.” He agrees, tapping his sunglasses. 

“Rare, huh?” Yuuki repeats, looking rather fascinated by the topic. “Are all the abilities rare then, even within families?”

He shrugs. “Sure, some more than others though. The Six Eyes and Limitless are a pretty extreme example.”

She makes a noise of understanding. “Sukuna said something like five-hundred years?”

He nods. “Yeah, sounds about right.” Although why does Sukuna know something like that? “There have been other Six Eyes or Limitless users, but for both it’s been centuries. Megumi’s in a similar boat actually, his Ten Shadows technique is rare even for the Zen’in. The Kamo’s blood technique is a little more common, but even then it’s not a guarantee.”

Yuuki startles. “Blood technique?”

Satoru tilts his head, bemused by her sudden reaction. “The Kamo clan’s Blood Manipulation. It’s— exactly what it says on the tin, honestly. They can control all aspects of their blood, giving them a pretty wide range of offensive and defensive capabilities.”

“So that’s what he meant…” Yuuki murmurs, looking lost in thought.

When she says nothing else for a few minutes, Satoru leans over and bonks her on the head. “Earth to Yuuki-chan~” He singsongs, bumping their shoulders together. “What are you thinking about so hard over there?”

“Well, it’s just,” she frowns thoughtfully. “Choso said something, when he’d found me after Shibuya. I couldn’t figure out how he’d managed it when no one else could, and then he said something really weird about using our shared blood.”

Satoru stands straighter. “Shared blood?”

“Yeah,” she scratches her nose. “He didn’t really explain what he meant by that though, but he seemed pretty adamant we were siblings.”

Satoru blinks rapidly. His nonchalant expression falls into something more pensive as he mulls that over. Clearly the death painting knows more than he seems to let on— Satoru had decided it would be easiest to just keep the peace with the curse user after Shibuya and mostly avoid him, let bygones be bygones and all that. The half-curse seemed pretty adamant on protecting Yuuki and, frankly, she could use more people on her side. Maybe it was time to confront him personally.

When Satoru pulls himself out of his own thoughts, he sees Yuuki has descended into a rather forlorn mood. 

He’s not entirely certain how to pull her out of it. He’s historically and infamously terrible at dealing with feelings, both his own and others. And his attempts to cheer people up usually end with even more tears. 

I guess I got my answer, huh.

Earlier he’d wondered if that effervescent personality of hers was just a facade, and it looks like signs are pointing to yes. Well, facade is a bit harsh; he doesn’t think that ebullient enthusiasm is entirely an act, and it’s certainly not an intentionally deceptive one. Satoru can recognize a defense mechanism when he sees one, what with having plenty of eccentric and borderline bizarre ones of his own, and what he sees beneath her cheerful exterior is a level of loneliness and vulnerability he’d have expected from someone in her position.

Her expression crumples a bit more and he wonders, with encroaching hysteria, if she’s about to cry. 

The thought is enough to give him heart palpitations, but as he thinks of increasingly absurd ways to pull her out of her funk she up and does it herself with a quick shake of her head and a couple slaps to her cheeks.

“Sorry sensei, I’m really not good company now,” she says gamely, with an apologetic smile. “I think all the excitement is catching up to me.”

He wonders why she’d ever even think she needed to apologize for something like this, then realizes that as an idol, she probably has to be on all the time. It must be exhausting, he thinks, to be camera-ready like that without exception. Exhausting, and lonely. 

“That’s alright, Yuuki-chan,” he replies gently. “We’re almost to your building, anyway.”

There’s a moment as they cross the street that she zones out again, just a slight tilt of her head and a distant expression cast out over the city. He wonders, with a fervor rather unlike him, what they must talk about in the privacy of their shared domain. He can’t help but be curious as to what their relationship must be like, when it’s just the two of them like that, unburdened of everyone else. 

“Oh, you’re right!” She’s back in the real world with a blink of recognition. 

Her dorm complex stands in front of them, the door an innocuous thing off the side of a bigger storefront. The building itself towers over them, and he wonders if her management company owns the entire thing just for their idols, or if there are normal people living in it too. There’s a doorman in the lobby inside at least, which reassures him somewhat. Yuuki’s getting a little too famous now to be protected solely on her anonymity.

“Thanks for walking me home, sensei. Sorry for all the trouble.” She says, smiling up at him.

His brain-to-hand filter malfunctions catastrophically once again, and he finds himself ruffling her hair in a manner identical to how he’d done it with Sukuna all those nights ago. He can’t help it really, she looks so adorable like that, and her hair is so fluffy. Unlike Sukuna though, Yuuki doesn’t immediately try to blast him with a curse for his impudence; she just blinks again, smile turning softer. 

“It was no trouble at all,” he says, and then remembers that he’s had his hand on her head for a rather impolite amount of time at this point, and hastily removes it. “Sleep well and sweet dreams, Yuuki-chan.”

She blinks up at him with big eyes, mouth dropping open. Satoru watches with befuddlement as she flushes from the roots of her hair to the tips of her ears. She lets out a little ‘eep!’ of a sound, something so cute he hadn’t even realized it was possible to hear it outside of idol waifu shows, and then all but sprints into her building. 

“Right, um, thanks again and good night sensei!” She blurts out as she wrenches the door open, and then runs inside, leaving Satoru standing in the street with a bewildered expression.

(Later he’ll contemplate drowning himself in his own bathtub out of sheer embarrassment when he realizes he’d accidentally quoted her own song at her and hadn’t even realized it at the time.) 

Chapter Text

☆

EMOTIONAL PRISM

☆

The human mind is such an unreasonable, fickle thing.

Yuuki’s recollection of her own memories is a paltry approximation of her own subconscious. It’s incredible what one can see when released from the shackle of their own identity, when they’re the outsider looking in. Sukuna has never had such an intimate, unflinchingly personal relationship with anyone as he has with Yuuki, so the experience is rather novel. By diving through her mind he can learn so much about her— probably even more than she’s ever known about herself. Her thoughts, her fears, her idle fantasies; they’re all here, in this amorphous place between dreams and the waking world. 

Despite existing both within her body and somewhere in a metaphysical space between her mind and soul, the separation between them has always been clear cut. He’s never been privy to the inner workings of her mind, despite ostensibly sharing a mindscape with her. And the same applies to him.

But after their conversation last night when the Six Eyes user walked her home, it’s probably no surprise that her subconscious thoughts and dreams are so tumultuous they’re strong enough to pull him in.

In the dream-memory, Yuuki can’t be any older than an infant. Weeks, or maybe months. 

Her perception of the world is hazy and unreliable, but Sukuna’s adult mind can parse through it and see things far clearer than an infant ever could. There’s a man holding her— her father, from the look of it. He’s speaking to someone else, a deep rumble that soothes the infant Yuuki nestled against his chest. It makes her drowsy, and in turn makes Sukuna feel sleepy as well. He shakes it off irritably, focusing harder on the words and not just the vibrations. There’s another voice, deeper and older, that sounds berating. Yuuki’s father replies with a placid, even tone. They’re speaking about… his wife, he thinks? 

According to Yuuki both her father and mother died when she was too young to remember, so it’s quite possible this is one of the only memories she has of them. 

A feminine voice cuts into their argument, and while the sound has baby Yuuki perking up at its familiarity, it feels grating to Sukuna’s own ears. 

And then the woman leans over Itadori Jin’s shoulders to peer down at the baby. The gesture is soft and maternal, but the look on her face is cold and predatory. Sukuna stares up into it, and is so startled his own shock propels them both out of the dream. 

☆

Yuuki wakes up bleary and restless, even though Sukuna swears he hadn’t gone hunting last night.

She can barely keep her eyes open, although she somehow manages to muster through their early morning photoshoot without looking half asleep in all the photos. She catches a nap on Maya’s shoulder while they crawl through the sludge of Tokyo midday traffic to their next event, a radio show event, fortunately. Maya is always the star of those so she’ll probably be able to get away with drifting off in the middle of the program. 

She doesn’t miss the worried looks her group mates cast over her head as she lags behind them into the radio office, but she doesn’t know what to say. No matter how many cans of vending machine coffee she downs, she doesn’t feel any more alive than she had been before the rush of sugar and caffeine. Sukuna swears he has nothing to do with it, and honestly Yuuki sort of believes him, if only because he has no reason to lie. That and Choso had pulled her aside before their radio show entrance to ask if she was alright, and revealed there was something off about her curse energy. 

She has detective Sukuna on the job to figure out just what is going on with her while she summons up enough energy to look lively for the livestream portion. Yuuki is historically the upbeat and energetic member of their group, so when she’s tired like this it’s always very apparent no matter how hard she tries to force it.

While they’re at a brief intermission Chisato and Choso disappear and return with a canister of hot tea and miso soup for her, and she nearly bursts into tears at the thoughtful gesture. Maya has been picking up her slack in the hosting event, and supplies her with a steady stream of tylenol that does at least make her feel less achy even if it doesn’t cure her of her ailments. Takada is already on the phone with their manager Reiko-san to clear up her schedule for the next few days, on account of illness. 

The thought of her being sick is so laughable she almost doesn’t believe it, even with the evidence in front of her.

Yuuki has literally never been sick a day in her life. Since the day she was born, according to her grandfather. It doesn’t matter how terrible flu season is in a given year, Yuuki is always as healthy as ever. 

She could have sworn getting sick was impossible for her, but it’s a bit hard to deny it.

"Mystery solved," Sukuna says drily. Apparently being sick is one of the many reasons her curse energy could be all over the place. 

It still seems so surreal though. They have an early afternoon off after the radio show, fortunately, so her group mates bundle her up and take her home, puttering about her tiny dorm room as they flitter in and out from the nearby konbini with soups, medicine and towels. Yuuki thinks it's a bit excessive, but also very sweet. It had always been her fussing over her jii-chan; it’s nice to be the one being taken care of. She draws the line at Choso staying in her dorms though— the place is way too small for the both of them. 

Yuuki is just about to drift off underneath her mountain of blankets when her phone rings on the nightstand.

Thinking it’s one of her group mates likely calling because they left something in her room, she flings a hand out from her pile and answers without looking.

“Hiiii…” She says sleepily.

“... Err… hello? Is this Itadori-san?”

Yuuki abruptly sits straight up, eyes wide in horror. “Y— Yes! Hello, this is Itadori! May I ask who’s calling?” 

“Ah this is Ijichi Kiyotaka with the Jujutsu Technical School.”

Yuuki slumps over in relief. She’d been terrified she’d answered a work call like that. That being said, a call about Jujutsu isn’t really all that much better. 

“You’ve been asked to join a mission this afternoon. Where would be a convenient place to send the car for you?”

Yuuki’s relief is short lived. 

A mission? Now?

She wonders if it’s possible to call in sick as a Jujutsu Sorcerer. Something tells her that’s not a feasible option. And the way Ijichi-san worded it… it didn’t sound very negotiable. 

“I see. If it’s convenient for you as well, the Higashi-Shinjuku station would be easiest for me.”

“Understood. I’ll send the car for you, Itadori-san. Please keep an eye out for it.”

“Will do. Thank you, Ijichi-san.”

Yuuki flops back on her bed, blinking blearily at the ceiling. Then she picks herself back up with a muffled groan and trudges towards her closet in search of the Jujutsu Tech uniform she hasn’t even worn yet. 

When she finally drags herself to the train station entrance she looks a little more alive than she had earlier. Maybe the caffeine is finally kicking in, or maybe the adrenaline of knowing she’s about to fling herself headfirst into a potentially lethal situation is giving her more energy. 

A lovely woman in a suit called Nitta-san is waiting for her, looking prompt and alert. Her eyes widen when she sees Yuuki in a way that means she recognizes her, but is too professional to cause a scene in the middle of the street. They share a pleasant crawl through Tokyo traffic discussing what it’s like to be an idol; Nitta-san is a secret fan of all things idols. Yuuki always feels energized after having these kinds of talks with fans, which goes a long way in making her seem much more alert than she actually is. 

All too soon they’re pulling up to an ominous compound cordoned off with high cement walls, and topped with barbed wire. Yuuki doesn’t need to see the sign for Eishu Juvenile Detention Center to know it’s some kind of jail; the atmosphere is readily apparent just by turning the corner of the street. At the entrance she recognizes the familiar forms of Nobara-chan and Fushiguro-kun, along with a scrawny, timid-looking older man she’s unfamiliar with. As Nitta-san idles the car, she rolls down the window to address him as ‘Ijichi-senpai’. This must be the man she spoke to on the phone, then. 

Yuuki frowns a little. No Sensei? Is this Ijichi going to be their chaperone for the day then?

“Yuuki-chan!” Nobara cries, waving ecstatically as she hops out of the car. She pauses. “Oof! Your skin looks terrible! What happened?”

Yuuki laughs sheepishly. “I think I’m a bit under the weather.”

Fushiguro frowns. “Should she really be out here then?”

Ijichi looks conflicted. “Normally I would recommend against it, but this is something of a special situation. We’re tight on manpower as it is, as you know.” He sighs. “Normally a Jujutsu Sorcerer will be assigned to a curse of similar grade.”

“So, Gojo-sensei should be called in today, is what you’re saying.” Fushiguro says, looking unconvinced. 

“Where is Gojo-sensei?” Yuuki asks.

“On a business trip.” Ijichi sighs. “To be honest, he’s probably not someone who should be wasting time at a place like Jujutsu High…” He trails off with a shake of his head. 

Nobara and Yuuki exchange looks. That's an odd thing to say… in front of the man's own students. Should we be insulted right now??

“But our line of work is always lacking manpower.” Ijichi laments, pushing up his glasses. “And being overwhelmed by missions is common place. Unfortunately, this mission is an extraordinary emergency.”

“Emergency?” Yuuki repeats. 

“Your mission is to locate and evacuate any survivors before the cursed womb opens. Do not engage. When confronted by a special grade, the only options are to run away or die.”

“Run away or die, huh?” Sukuna chuckles in her mind. “Sounds about right!”

Yuuki internally rolls her eyes. Of course he’d be tickled by that. 

Still, Sukuna’s humor isn’t exactly unwarranted. But poor Ijichi looks so frightened by the idea of sending out three novice first years to engage something of this caliber on their own, Yuuki would feel bad if she tried anything to reassure him. Anyway, she somehow doubts reminding the older sorcerer that she has the King of Curses himself stuck in her would do much to alleviate his concerns. 

“E— Excuse me!” 

The assembled sorcerers turn around at the hesitant cry. Through the light drizzle Yuuki sees a middle-aged woman with a sensibly short bob and office worker slip-ons trudging valiantly through the unseemly weather; a man in a similarly ill-fitted suit as Ijichi is chasing after her, reprimanding her for crossing the boundary line. 

“Is Tadashi— Is my son okay?” She cries frantically, coming to a stop at the crime tape bounding the interior. 

“Who’s she?” Nobara whispers, leaning closer.

“She must have come for a visit with her son,” Ijichi murmurs to them, before stepping forward. “I apologize ma’am, but there’s a possibility that poison was spread in the facility.”

“No,” She gasps.

“We cannot disclose any more information at this point.” 

“Ma’am, please…” The other man in the suit catches up to her, laying a hand gently on her shoulder. Her expression crumples into one of pure despair, shoulders heaving as she covers her mouth. 

Yuuki watches her be led away with a pained expression. She’s not really sure why the scene moved her so— it was tragic, truly, but Yuuki was no stranger to tragedy or losing loved ones. There was something about it though, the idea of a grieving mother, a mother who must love her son so much to worry about him like this… 

Yuuki has had plenty of father figures in her life, first and foremost her own grandfather. But the shape in her life where a mother should be has always been glaringly empty. She has plenty of older-sister figures now, with Maya and Chisato and Taka-chan and even their manager Reiko-san to an extent, but she’s certain no one had ever cried for her like this woman. Sometimes she even wonders if she’d ever had a mother, at all. Surely she must have, but somehow the idea of her always seems so distant in comparison to Itadori Jin, her father. Perhaps because her jii-chan never spoke about her mother.

I’ll do my best to find him, Yuuki thinks. If she can do anything to help the woman, she’ll try. “Fushiguro-kun, Nobara-chan," she says. “Let’s do our best to save him, for her.”

Fushiguro sighs in that put-upon way of his that means he doesn’t like it but he’s committed to it nonetheless. Nobara just scoffs. “Of course!”

“Bleeding fucking heart.” She hears, low and derisive. She resolutely ignores it. 

“I’m going to lower the curtain now,” Ijichi intones, gravely. “Be careful, and good luck.” 

☆ 

Yuuki looks around the desolate entryway as the curtain of darkness falls over the already overcast sky. 

“So? What’s the game plan guys?” She’s never really done a Jujutsu mission officially before, so she figures she should let them take the lead.

Nobara rolls her shoulders. “Well, Fushiguro’s basically a Grade 1 Sorcerer at this point, and I’m Grade 2… Usually we split up when we need to cover so much ground like this but—” Nobara frowns. “Actually, Yuuki-chan what is your rank?”

“She just started,” Fushiguro points out as he opens the front door. “She’s Grade 4.”

Nobara makes grabby hands at her. “Lemme see your school ID card.”

Yuuki shimmies around her pockets for her wallet. After locating it, she slips the card out and proffers it to Nobara.

Nobara does a spit take. “Special grade?!”

Yuuki blinks, pulling it back to look at it herself. Come to think on it, when Gojo gave it to her she didn’t do much more than give it a passing glance to make sure her photo looked okay. But just as Nobara said, there in the top right corner it did indeed say ‘special grade’. 

Both Nobara and Fushiguro stare at her in disbelief. Fushiguro breaks first, shrugging as he turns back to lead them into the penitentiary.

“I guess it makes sense.” Is all he has to say.

Nobara doesn’t look as convinced. 

“Well, Sukuna is a special grade, right?” Yuuki shrugs. “Maybe that’s why?”

“I guess so,” Nobara supposes, following Fushiguro. “But usually that rank’s reserved for, like, y’know— really good sorcerers.”

“Like sensei?”

“Yeah, exactly.” Nobara agrees. “Outrageously, obnoxiously strong. That kind of stuff.”

“Where is Gojo-sensei, anyway?” Yuuki asks, now that they’re on the subject. “I thought he was in charge of the first years.”

“Like Ijichi-san said, overseas business trip.” Fushiguro explains. “He got called in last minute.”

“Yeah, he really does try to be around for our missions, I’ll give him that,” Nobara adds, begrudging. “But he’s still not around all that much.”

“He mentioned classes are pretty sporadic.” Yuuki notices.

“That’s exactly why.” Nobara nods. “He’s never around, which makes it a little hard to be teaching, y’know?”

Yuuki frowns. “Then… why is he a teacher?”

Nobara throws her hands up in exasperation. “Isn’t that the million yen question!”

“All the teachers at the school are in a similar boat.” Fushiguro explains, sounding distracted as he walks in front of them. His narrow gaze is focused on cataloging their surroundings. “They all have to do missions in addition to teaching. But Gojo is also just a special case.” 

“Because he’s the strongest?” Yuuki clarifies.

“Allegedly.” Nobara snorts, although Yuuki can tell from her eyes that she’s only teasing. 

“There’s a lot of things only he can handle.” Fushiguro adds. “He might be an idiot— but he doesn’t shirk on his responsibilities.”

“So I guess it makes sense he wouldn’t be here then.” Yuuki nods along.

Come to think on it, this is the first time they’ve all been together without Gojo. She glances briefly at her two companions, suddenly overcome with curiosity.

“Hey, so what do you think of Gojo-sensei anyway?” 

Yuuki asks, genuinely curious, as they slowly pick their way through a deserted corridor. 

Fushiguro is taken aback. “What?”

“Y’know, like, what do you think of him? You’ve known him so much longer than me, and every time we’ve met up he’s been there so I couldn’t really ask.”

Fushiguro is quiet by her side, looking at a total loss for words. Actually, his expression is rather pinched; like he’s got plenty of things to say, and not enough time to say them. 

Nobara actually stops in her tracks at the mouth of the doorway. Yuuki looks back at her, inquiringly. Nobara leans closer, expression dead serious. “You know those fungi bacteria that grow at the bottom of the ocean and, like, live off of the toxic sulfuric acid that comes out of deep sea volcanoes?”

Her brows crease anxiously. “Um— I guess?”

“That’s literally Gojo. He’s a living garbage can that thrives off of chaos and deadly situations.”

Fushiguro snorts loudly, but notably does not move to correct her.

Yuuki laughs weakly. “Well, I guess he’s kind of intense?”

“Intense is possibly the last word I would ever use to describe him,” Nobara opines. “He never takes anything seriously, ever. And he has the personality of an extremely tactless sledgehammer in sunglasses.” 

“His sense of humor is especially bad.” Fushiguro adds, helpfully.

Yuuki scratches her cheek. “Huh. I actually find him… kind of funny?”

She and Fushiguro share a look as if to say; these idiots deserve each other. 

Good god. There really is no accounting for taste, is there? 

Nobara sighs, laboriously. “For the record, I think you can do sooo much better than that guy.”

Yuuki just looks downright confused, clearly missing the innuendo. “Um?”

“Listen to this girl, she’s fucking right.”

So right, in fact, that even the malevolent King of Curses agrees with her. Nobara rears back in surprise at her first actual sighting of the infamous double-faced specter— a cruel, vicious mouth full of sharp teeth manifesting beneath Yuuki’s eye, looking thoroughly out of place against her smooth, soft skin. 

Fushiguro startles as well, although his reaction is… odd, even for a weirdo like Fushiguro. He immediately sidesteps around Nobara to place her between them, trying to play it casual as he pretends like he’s inspecting the prison directory. She can see the tips of his ears under the unruly mess he calls hair, bright red in the gloom. What’s up with him?

“But it’s not like I can choose my own sensei!” Yuuki protests. 

She and Sukuna sigh, in unison. 

Dense as a brick, this one. 

Yuuki would protest more, but the ground gives a sudden, vicious shudder that puts a halt to their light hearted conversation.

“Shit, already?” Nobara curses, trying to peer outside through the grime over the windows to get a better look at the womb outside.

“We need to split up, there’s no way we’re going to make it in time at this rate.” Fushiguro decides, urgently. 

He pulls his hands together, summoning a monstrous looking dog creature out of his own shadow. It’s the first time Yuuki’s seen his technique in action, and she has to admit its way cooler in person than in theory. Nobara has a hand on her hammer already, nails laced between her fingers. 

“Right. I’ll take the east, you take the west?” She looks to Fushiguro, who nods.

Then they both turn to Yuuki, as if suddenly remembering they have a third member now.

“I can take the northern wing— but what are we going to do about the south?” They entered through the southern gate, but there were still plenty of ground they hadn’t covered.

“We’ll all try to double back for it once we’ve covered our areas— but don’t hesitate to leave immediately if it’s not possible.” He looks at both of them sternly. “As important as this mission is, it’s not as important as your lives. All we can do is promise to do our best. But our best is useless if we’re dead.”

“Right.” The girls nod in agreement.

☆ 

“The girl is right, I hope you realize.”

Because of course Sukuna wouldn’t leave her alone, even smack in the middle of her first real mission against a possible special grade curse. 

“About Gojo?” Yuuki frowns. “You don’t really think that, do you? He’s not actually a troll you know, he just uses that persona because… I mean, I don’t really know why. But I guess it’s probably easier than being serious all the time.”

She can imagine life as the strongest Jujutsu Sorcerer to not only be chaotic and painful, but also incredibly lonely. Curses are surrounded by suffering and despair, and the world of Jujutsu Sorcerers is positively drenched in it. Everything cruel and unfair in the world seems to take on a razor sharp focus, becoming the centerpoint of reality. Yuuki can see why Gojo would use his irreverent and frivolous personality as a way to cope with it all. 

Sukuna groans in frustration. “That’s definitely not what either of us meant.” 

How can Yuuki be so observant in one moment, and yet so entirely oblivious in the next? Sometimes her insight into human nature and the gradation of good and evil are downright startling; other times, she’s entirely ignorant to what’s staring her in the face. Sukuna despairs for himself, really. Why is she of all people his vessel? And worse, why is it he cannot fathom having anyone else as his host? 

Yuuki’s frown deepens. “Then what do you mean?” 

“I give up.” Sukuna announces, long-suffering. “Just forget it. Focus on getting closer to the source of this curse.”

Yuuki pouts, and then resolutely ignores his sound advice by not dropping the subject and not focusing on the mission “Seriously. I don’t get it. Do you not like Gojo-sensei or something?”

Sukuna snorts at the very notion, as if the question is beneath him to even answer.

She frowns. “Wait, I thought you did like him!”

This draws Sukuna up short. “I what?!”

“You know— you two are always—” she makes a vague wave with her hand that is not even remotely enlightening. “And you always feel so—”

“So what?” He grits out. 

“I don’t know, alive, I guess. Whenever he’s around. You feel like you’re more interested and stuff. And you definitely come out more, when he’s around.”

He wants to dismiss the very idea of it immediately. Sure, he does find the Six Eyes to be the most interesting— if not infuriating— human to exist with the exception of Yuuki (who is the exception to everything, so she doesn’t count) and he is, at the very least, mildly amusing and fun to rile up. But he’s most certainly never done anything to overtly or even indirectly hint at that. At least, not outwardly.

He pauses.

But Yuuki’s explanation had nothing to do with outward reactions, did it? 

She said he felt more interested. As if she could navigate the tides of his own emotions just as well as he could. And coupled with the dream she'd had last night… a dream they'd shared even if it was her memory…

“You can feel that?” 

Yuuki frowns. “Well, sure. I kind of always have.”

“In what way?”

“What do you mean?” Yuuki returns, confused. “I could always feel some things— definitely when you’re angry, or really smug about something.”

Sukuna is quiet.

“Wait, are you telling me it doesn’t go both ways?”

He waves that off. “No, it does.”  He’s been the unfortunate sole witness to plenty of Yuuki’s internal meltdowns. 

But still, he’s always managed a degree of separation between them. What did it mean that this was no longer quite the case?

“Don’t do anything rash. I’m going to investigate something.”

“You— hey!” But Sukuna is already gone.

And that’s new too, isn’t it? Yuuki wasn’t always able to tell so clearly when Sukuna was present in her mind or off in his own domain, unlike now, where the distinction seems so obvious. It is a bit strange, isn’t it? It’s probably for the best that Sukuna figures it out. As accustomed as she’s gotten to sharing her body with him, she can imagine they’d both go crazy if they had to be constantly subjected to all of the other’s thoughts. 

“Of all the fucking times, though…” Yuuki scowls as she jogs through the eerily empty prison halls, her earlier bravado leaving her in one fell swoop.

It’s one thing to be going up against a Special Grade when she’s got a Special Grade of her own lurking around providing rude commentary on the state of the world around her, and entirely another to be facing one on her own. It’s probably normal to be frightened. She’s not actually a Special Grade sorcerer. She’s barely even a sorcerer at all. 

The building shudders again, with a strength that nearly topples her over. 

Just as she regains her balance, it shudders again and this time sends her sprawling down a nearby staircase. 

She curses up a storm as she lands in a heap at the bottom, and then curses even louder when she looks up and sees the interior of the building has changed into some kind of daunting, maze-like sewage system. 

“A domain?!  Are you kidding me?” She didn’t realize you could just end up in one like this! Don’t you have to say magic words and all that nonsense?

“Sukunaaaa! Is this a normal domain or should I be freaking out right now?” She shouts, but it’s like shouting into the void. He doesn’t answer.

“Where the hell did he go?” She mutters, uncharitably. “We share the same fucking body. How does that even work?”

“H— Hello? Is anyone out there?”

Yuuki scrambles to her feet at the sudden entrance of a new voice, probably a bit too hastily, because her vision swims for a moment. Right. Sick. Her adrenaline had kicked in and she’d forgotten about her dismal situation. Man, this was really just not her day.

“I’m out here! Just wait there, I’m coming!” She calls back, steadying herself on her feet and making towards the voice. 

Yuuki exits into a cavernous opening, crossing rusty pipes ascending into a pitch of darkness in lieu of a ceiling. Cowering in the corner across two bloody smears is a relatively unharmed man in an orange jumpsuit, looking close to hyperventilating. As Yuuki nears, she sees the nameplate on his jumpsuit and can’t believe her luck.

“Are you— Tadashi-san?” 

His head jerks up at her voice, his eyes wide and bloodshot. “Y— You… what are you doing here?”

“Umm… rescuing I guess?” Yuuki scratches her cheek. “Do you think you can walk?”

“I— I—” He blubbers, and cowers further. The whites of his eyes are tinged red as his unseeing gaze lowers back to where it had been before. She follows his gaze to see he’s looking towards the large blood smears on the ground, and the warped flesh-like balls they end at. 

Humans… at some point. She thinks, sadly. The awakened Special Grade must have done that to them. 

A jolt of fear shoots up her spine.

The special grade did that… but when? 

Call it a premonition, a sixth sense, good timing, or just plain luck but she's moved immediately into action, knowing intrinsically that both their lives are in grave danger. Yuuki lurches forward, using her outrageous strength to haul the fully-grown inmate by the collar of his jumpsuit and fling him like a shot put clear across the room to the corridor she’d been in earlier. 

“Run!!” She shouts at him, just as a horrific pain lances up her arm.

She looks down in shock to see her entire hand is gone. Just… gone. There’s nothing but blistering pain and a creeping numbness and a bloodied, gaping hole at her wrist. And a mark on the wall behind her where the remains of her hand were crushed against it in a dark splatter.

A trembling wheeze blocks out her impending panic. She looks up to see a hideous looking curse in front of her, writhing as if in delight. There’s a broken whimper from the direction of the stairwell. 

She refuses to take her eyes off the Special Grade, but still shouts, “What the hell are you waiting for? Run!”

Another whimper, but this time it’s accompanied with the mad scrambling of a man fearing for his life. Good. Hopefully he finds Fushiguro or Kugisaki on his way out, otherwise he might be running himself in circles. At the very least, Yuuki can rest assured knowing exactly where the Special Grade is. 

Not that this knowledge is going to do her much good, when she’s not even close to a match for a Special Grade. 

She throws herself out of the way of its next attack, biting into her lip hard enough to draw blood as pain lances up her handless arm. She lands in a graceless tumble in something gross and warm and wet. It’s the pool of blood left behind by the other two inmates, and she’s all but laying in it. She doesn’t even have the presence of mind to be disgusted, fighting for her life as she is. She just gets up with her still-attached hand and staggers forward, once again barely managing to get out of the way of a powerful blast of cursed energy. The wall behind her erupts explosively, the backlash sending her tumbling back to the ground just as she’d managed to get up. Watching her struggle, the Special Grade cackles and writhes happily.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, fuzzball,” she grits out, licking the blood off her lips. That stupid thing won’t be laughing when Sukuna comes out to personally eviscerate it. 

But speaking of Sukuna— where the fuck is he?

“What a time to go on ‘Do Not Disturb Mode’, asshole!!” She shouts into her own mind. 

She’s been screaming bloody murder at him for ages without response. What the hell could he be doing? He seriously can’t be so unaware that he doesn’t realize they’re both in grave danger of actually dying, right?!

The Special Grade stops cackling, straightening up again with a delirious expression.

Yuuki leans on the balls of her feet, getting ready to start sprinting again. 

This time though, she doesn’t even have the chance.

It teleports from across the room to loom right in front of her. Before she can even throw a punch with her good hand, it's thrusting its own appendage straight into her chest. She feels like the pain of having her chest cavity cave in on itself should be excruciating, but as it is she just feels cold and numb all over. 

At least this jacket wasn’t designer, is probably not the most helpful thought to have right now, but it’s the only one she’s got as she loses consciousness.

☆

Sukuna stares at the infernal interloper of his pristine domain and wonders if he should incinerate it on the spot.

He intended to leave Yuuki to her own devices but for a moment or two. He wasn’t that far from her— if she needed him, he would know. He wasn’t going very far into his domain anyway; he just needed to check the surface. He’d checked the entryway to his shrine for any signs of decay or strangeness, but found nothing. When he leaned closer into Yuuki’s conscious, she was still thinking about the oddness of her title as ‘Special Grade Sorcerer’—  which was ridiculous. What had she expected she would be ranked as, being the vessel of the King of Curses himself? Of course she was a Special Grade! She was so humble about the most useless shit sometimes, seriously.

After examining the corridor of his shrine meticulously and coming up short, he decided to briefly head further in to see if he’d overlooked something. 

‘Further in’ ended up being a descent into some of the farthest reaches of his inner domain, past its shallow depths, the bone graveyards, the malevolent shrine itself— closer, to the deep places between life energy and soul. Imagine his surprise then, to find what he’s looking for in such a place so intimately connected with his own self.

There it was, in a place it shouldn't be— like a disease, some kind of unholy blasphemy besmirching the altar of his soul.

A pink, unfurling flower.

He was disgusted. He was disturbed. He was mortally offended.

How dare she encroach upon such a sacred place? In the dark recesses of his own sense of self, how could she possibly be here? 

He leans down, ready to pluck the thing right out by the root, and promptly turn it to ash. But he can’t seem to manage to make his hands curl around it. His claws stop just before they brush against its soft, curling petals. 

Unbelievable.

Even here, she bests him. Here, in this place she should not be able to reach. He wants to destroy her, but cannot even seem to lift a finger against her. He could lie to himself all he liked about her usefulness; about the convenience of having such a hearty and strong vessel, about the practicality of having a vessel that entertains him to keep him from his endless boredom. But he cannot lie to himself here, at the precipice of his very soul. Here, he cannot force his internal avatar to do anything against his own single source of truth. He can’t lie, not even to himself. If she truly meant nothing to him then he would have no trouble grasping this flower by its stem and uprooting it in its entirety.

While he might not be able to lie to himself, dismissing his own feelings as something to be deliberated on at a later date was perfectly within his powers, so he elects to do that instead. 

He takes a calming breath, and takes a step back as he tries to look at the bigger picture. How did this flower end up here? What does it mean, that it did?

For all of his experiences as both a human and a curse in the Jujutsu world, and the knowledge he’s collected in the centuries of his existence, he’s never heard of a situation like his and Yuuki’s. There are certainly accounts of possession between human and curse, as well as accounts of bonds between humans and curses like Yuuki’s classmate and his cursed spirit. But to house a curse within a human vessel and have both retain their autonomy was unheard of. His coexistence with Yuuki should be impossible, so there’s no precedent.

But purely from conjecture, he can infer a few things from this new development.

Firstly— that something in recent events has triggered a new level of synergy between himself and his vessel. It’s possible that it’s merely a matter of time, and that the longer he and Yuuki share a body, the more and more the essence of their existence will combine. It could also be the amount of fingers she’s consumed. They’ve passed the halfway point now, which means Yuuki is currently housing more than fifty-percent of him. 

And secondly, it’s not just him who’s growing stronger with each finger they consume, but Yuuki as well. Not even a month ago would she have had the cursed energy to make this flower possible. This is a flower of pure cursed energy, just like everything else in this domain. But it’s her cursed energy. 

Third: the fact that his own domain hadn’t rejected it outright is yet another piece of the puzzle to consider. Cursed energy doesn’t just coexist like this. Much like a battle of Domains, one always destroys the other in a battle of dominance. That’s simply the nature of curses. But again, there has never been a case like he and Yuuki before. Perhaps his own cursed energy doesn’t see hers as a different entity at all. But that would then infer all sorts of things…

And lastly— there’s no way this anomaly could possibly be unrelated to the memory of Yuuki’s he witnessed. If that creature is involved at all with Yuuki’s existence— which Sukuna can now assume with some degree of certainty— then things are much more than what they appear to be on the surface. 

He’s jolted out of his intense musings by a searing pain in his chest.

Sukuna looks down, startled, only for his domain to bleed out in front of him.

No, that’s not it.

He’s bleeding out. The inner recesses of his domain clear to a bloody scene of carnage. He can immediately tell he’s within another’s domain— it’s incomplete, unformed. Unsurprising, given that Yuuki is fighting against an infant Special Grade. 

Then he takes stock of his situation, and the cool, even demeanor he’d forced upon himself earlier within his domain incinerates in the inferno of his own fury.

He heals himself in an instant, reversing a truly hideous amount of damage done to Yuuki’s body.

His eyes shoot open, meeting the startled eyes of his cursed opponent. 

“You interrupted me.” He says, with the air of an executioner exacting his death sentence.

Then he launches the curse above him past three layers of concrete and straight into the yard outside, shattering the domain. 

He doesn’t know how long Yuuki must have been unconscious for— a second? Maybe two?— until he’d been forcefully booted out of his domain, but this Special Grade had certainly had its fun in that span of time. He didn’t have to look down to know there had been multiple lethal hits made after the one that must have knocked her unconscious, as he was intimately aware of each and every one after healing them. 

He cracks his knuckles. 

Well. Time to return the favor. 

☆

The inmate— Okazaki Tadashi— whimpers at her feet. Nobara withholds a grimace and gently nudges him away with her foot, before he smears snot all over her skirt. He’s definitely going to need therapy after this. Tons and tons of therapy.

There’s a thunderous crash as something slams through several dozen walls of concrete. The entire penitentiary compound shudders on the impact. 

Nobara winces. 

Tadashi might not be the only one who needs therapy after this.

“Should we… stop her? Him?” Nobara hesitates to even ask.

Fushiguro grimaces. 

They both watch as a pink blur leaps over the building towards the cavernous hole made by the thrown curse. A colossal amount of cursed energy coalesces in the pink-haired girl’s hands, only to be dropped unceremoniously onto the still stunned curse at the bottom of the hole. The ensuing cloud of dust that kicks up in response could probably give her immediate death by asbestos poisoning if she was standing any closer. 

Fushiguro waves a hand vaguely. “Do you want to get in the middle of that?”

Nobara concedes his point with a grimace of her own.

Yeah this is… she doesn’t really know how to handle this.

The mission seemed to have taken a sudden turn for the worse when the Special Grade awakened and enveloped them all in its domain, and then a miraculous turn for the better when a sobbing Okazaki Tadashi came limping towards them, alive and relatively unharmed,  if not wholly traumatized. And then it took another swan dive when they realized Yuuki must have fought the Special Grade on her own, lost, and then Sukuna had come out to finish the fight in her stead. 

Now they were looking at a terrible situation involving two Special Grades on a rampage, one of which happened to be the King of Curses.

Well… calling it a rampage on both their parts is misleading. It’s really a one-sided rampage with death and defeat, over and over, on the other. Nobara is fairly certain the King of Curses must be healing the Special Grade from the brink of death over and over again, only to repeat the whole process with even more cruelty than the round before. Fury doesn’t even begin to cover the level of endless but impossibly precise and controlled rage the King of Curses must be feeling to manage such a state. Which really begs the question— what did that Special Grade do? Nobara doesn’t even think she’d wish this fate on her worst enemy. It’s… meticulously horrific.

And it doesn’t appear to be stopping any time soon.  

As they watch from the safety just outside the curtain, they both come to the conclusion there’s really only one solution to this problem.

Nobara sighs, crossing her arms. “You’re calling him.”

“Why me?” Fushiguro scowls. 

“He’s your guardian.” She points out, meanly, knowing he’ll have no retort to this.

And like clockwork, he just gets all huffy and angry and grumbly but stops protesting. 

☆

Sukuna emerges in the rain, soaked to the bone and mostly shirtless, lacking all the triumphant revelry he would have expected after a display like that. 

Even by Satoru’s standards, it was beyond sadistic. It was a level of cruelty universally acknowledged as standard for the King of Curses in theory, but one he’d never witnessed in practice. Until now. 

Satoru walks towards him briskly. His stomach drops as he nears, easily able to discern each and every killing hit fully healed on his body with the use of his Six Eyes.  A hole through the chest cavity, splintering the ribcage inwards to pierce internal organs, was the most dire. It would have killed on impact, he’s fairly certain. A clean cut through the ulna and radius of the left wrist; a cleave up and out of the abdominal cavity; a slice through the upper thigh that shattered the femur bone— all wounds that would be slower to cause death, but no less lethal. What exactly happened in there?

All he knows is what Megumi told him on the phone; the special grade awakened while they were in the middle of evacuating the last of the prisoners (and wasn’t that just a strange breach in protocol? They already called for an evacuation, calling for a second one for just three people wasn’t a normal directive in dire situations involving Special Grades like this.) They all split up. Not surprising, given their ranks. But then something happened to Yuuki, they think. Sukuna took over, and proceeded to… repeatedly eviscerate the Special Grade, only to heal it, and repeat the process. 

If that wasn’t the definition of pure, unmitigated rage, Satoru didn’t know what was.

Now as to why Sukuna was so angry… well, Megumi didn’t have any concrete answers. Neither did Satoru, although now that he’s seeing the residue of Sukuna’s own Reverse Cursed Technique with the damning detail of his Six Eyes, he can take a bit of a guess.

Revenge, after all, is exactly the sort of thing he’d assume the King of Curses would excessively indulge in.

But these sort of lethal hits— there’s no way they happened to Sukuna. He’s too powerful. This must have been done to Yuuki, which would then beg the question; was this Sukuna’s revenge on her behalf? 

From the look on his face, Satoru thinks he’ll be next on the man’s shit list if he asks. 

And he’s been doing such a good job keeping the peace between the two of them so far, it’d be a shame to break it.

"I gave you one job." Sukuna starts without preamble, his gaze so cold it's burning.

“Um,” Gojo says, wracking his memories for what on earth he could possibly be referring to. What job? Gojo is terrible at jobs. Gojo and responsibility are longtime arch enemies. 

Usually in situations like these, he’s fairly certain the correct response is: “I’m sorry?”

“Good, you should be.” Sukuna snaps. “All you needed to do was keep Yuuki away from all your stupid fucking politics.”

Oh. Oh.

“I really am sorry,” he says, this time genuinely apologetic. “I had no idea they were planning this.”

Which isn’t really much of an excuse. He should have known better. He should have known they wouldn’t just take this lying down. Oh, they’d raged and yelled when Satoru had announced his intentions to take on the vessel of the King of Curses as his student, but Satoru had just dismissed their anger as their usual posturing. Frankly, he honestly didn’t think they’d had it in them to pull something like this off. 

This has the stink of the Zen’in clan all over it.

That rat-faced Naoya has his prints all over this. The council alone wouldn’t have sanctioned a move against Megumi— Yuuki yes, but they’d never put the only user of the Zen’in’s Ten Shadows technique in mortal danger if they could help it. The only one who wants Megumi dead that bad is that second uncle of his, who’s also incidentally one of the few who has the clout to get this approved. 

He’s heard plenty of rumors of discontent cropping up from the Zen’in clan’s side of things in recent weeks. Old man Naobito isn’t as spry as he used to be, and he was injured terribly in Shibuya. The succession of the clan is going to be the sort of catastrophic family drama that drags everyone in the Jujutsu World into it. 

Satoru should probably get ahead of that mess before it becomes untenable. He’s had a lot on his plate recently though, and he’d kept the matter on the backburner. Now it was coming back to bite him.

“Don’t apologize to me.” Sukuna retorts, sounding disgusted by the very thought. “I’m not the one who died here.”

Oof. Satoru winces. Sukuna really knows how to find your weak spots and hit where it hurts the most, huh.

Satoru already carries enough guilt to drown himself in; he’d really been hoping he wouldn’t have to add Yuuki to that list. That was probably just wishful thinking, though. Her situation was… well. He’d never been one for optimism, but even he wished he could be a bit idealistic about it. 

On the subject of the girl… “How is she?”

Sukuna’s expression shutters. 

Satoru’s stomach drops. 

☆

There were very few places Satoru found as miserable as the Gojo estate, but it was really the lesser of all evils here. 

The whole thing was lavish and regal, unquestionably the ancestral home of an old and wealthy clan. It was also, to Satoru, encrusted with decades of boring— even traumatically parental— associations. He remembers staring out into the perfectly manicured sand gardens from his spot inside with his tutors, idly wishing to just obliterate the whole thing with a curse technique or two just to alleviate his own ennui. But even as a small child he was too shackled by his own sense of duty and responsibility, and refrained. Teenage Gojo during his middle school glory days would have happily dumped kerosene over the whole thing and watched it burn to an angsty pop punk playlist. 

Adult Gojo is far more reasonable and and far more petty. He will instead besmirch the sanctity of this sacred estate and the collective will of his ancestors by inviting the King of Curses himself as his guest.

Predictably, Sukuna is far less disturbed by the oppressive air of traditional sexism and patriarchy pervasive all across the property. Actually, he sort of barrels the entire thing right over. A figurative kerosene fire, if you will. Satoru is so proud.

Satoru tells him it’s his for as long as he needs it, and Sukuna wastes no time terrorizing the staff into submission and claiming the master suite as his own. Satoru has a grand laugh at the idea of his revered father and grandfather and all the clan heads before him rolling in their graves in horror as Sukuna defiles their rooms. Satoru himself got the fuck out before he turned eighteen and never looked back and couldn’t even tell you what they look like. He barely even remembers his own room.

At any rate, whatever reservations he had on the place weren’t worth overlooking the convenience of having a completely private estate to stash the renegade King of Curses. 

He can’t go back to Yuuki’s regular life in this state, and there’s no better place for him to lay low while they… well, while they wait and see what happens.

Right now, even Sukuna isn’t entirely sure what’s going on.

He hadn’t said as much in so many words, but when Satoru had asked about Yuuki, he’d said he ‘didn’t know’. 

The thought was terrifying. They literally shared a body, and a realm of consciousness. How could he not know?

On the bright side, he could at least confirm this wasn’t the first time this phenomenon had occurred. Something similar had happened in Shibuya when he’d recovered so many of his fingers at once. He’d explained that Yuuki had been critically injured while in control of her body, and while Sukuna had been distracted with healing the damage to her brain, the two curse users who followed Suguru forced her to consume ten of his fingers. When he’d regained consciousness, he’d been alone in their body. It had taken a few hours before Yuuki had ‘awoken’, and she’d had no memory of what had happened while she’d been ‘asleep’.

The two situations weren’t exactly parallel, but similar enough to infer they might have hope of a similar pattern occurring. 

Yuuki had once again been critically injured, but this time Sukuna hadn’t immediately healed her. He didn’t specify what the hell he’d been doing instead, only stating he’d been otherwise occupied and hadn’t known what was happening outside of his domain. Afterwards he’d systematically disemboweled that special grade repeatedly, a vicious feat Satoru had personally caught the end of. 

He’d also recovered yet another of his fingers from the special grade— likely planted in the penitentiary by someone else, all but confirming his Zen’in theory— but had yet to consume it.

That in and of itself was telling.

Sukuna was currently in possession of one of his remaining fingers, but was refraining from eating it. A wellspring of power that curses regularly fought each other to the death to consume, and he was holding off on it. A key to his own return. There was absolutely no reason for him not to eat it right away. 

Unless, of course, he was more concerned over the state of his host than his quest to return to full power.

(Not that Satoru was going to point that out. Keeping the peace, and all that.) 

Satoru sighs, leaning against the frame of the sliding screens facing the outer engawa. 

The cold rain from yesterday has frosted into snow overnight, casting the immaculate grounds in a silent, icy tundra. It was far too cold to be using the engawa, but that doesn’t seem to stop Sukuna from enjoying the expanse of nature available to him. Satoru wonders if the scene of old pines, classical gardens and historical architecture reminds him of the Heian period he hails from, and if so, if he prefers it to the modern novels of the city. He looked right at home in the scene, dressed as he is. 

In Satoru’s old clothes. 

Because of course he is.

In hindsight, what else was he going to wear? Nothing else in this house was likely to fit Yuuki’s size, and the clothing he’d arrived in wasn’t fit for further use. Satoru tries not to think too hard on it, just like he did with his jacket. It’s not as if Sukuna was wearing his clothes on purpose, it was just more practical this way. That doesn’t stop him from privately noting how good it looks on him. 

It was kind of funny to see Yuuki’s body all dressed up in traditionally male clothing, but of course Sukuna wore it well. With Yuuki’s long sakura-colored locks loose against her back, the whole scene looked like a wintry tableau out of some ukiyo-e print. He has one of Satoru’s old haori over his shoulders, and a nagagi he grew out of in high school. He has no idea where Sukuna managed to find them, but he has to admit they look good on him. Yuuki so rarely wears traditional clothing, even for TV specials, so the sight is unusual. 

Sukuna looks oddly picturesque with the softly falling snow behind him, the pale blue embroidery of his haori matching with the wintry scenery and contrasting with his hair. Idly, Satoru wonders if he can trick Sukuna into wearing more of his old clothing by casually leaving it out for him. He remembers an intricate asanoha patterned coat that would look especially good with his coloring…

He ruins the moment then by sneezing abruptly, causing Sukuna to turn his way.

He takes that as his cue to stop staring and actually say something. 

“So, the good news is that Takada-chan already came up with an excuse for Yuuki for the rest of the week,” Satoru says by way of greeting. “... The downside is she’s, uh, pretty pissed about the actual reason Yuuki is taking time off.”

Sukuna snorts, positively unsympathetic. “Good. I hope she yelled at you.” 

Satoru grimaces. Yeah. That had been a real earful. He’d called the woman— after exchanging numbers with Yuuki’s group mates after their karaoke outing (they all seemed to be under the delusion he was acting as some kind of responsible adult supervision in her life, and assumed he’d be a good contact to have)— not realizing he was more or less explaining the situation to her mom figure. Takada had ripped him a new one for being so irresponsible with his own students, and especially the student that’s not even a few weeks into her training, who also happened to be feeling ill when she’d been dragged into a mission that ended up being a glorified execution. 

“You’re not exactly in her good books either right now.” Satoru points out, gleefully watching as a look of distaste crosses the curse’s face. Apparently even the King of Curses isn’t immune to a Taka-tan Beam of Disappointment™. 

“Anyway, do you plan on sitting outside all night or did you want to eat at some point?”

Sukuna raises a brow. “Are you offering to cook?”

Satoru grins widely. “Absolutely not, I don’t even know how!” He says, proudly. “There’s definitely people in this building that can do that, though.” Unless Sukuna succeeded in scaring all the staff away. 

Sukuna makes a noncommittal noise, not looking particularly enticed by the notion. Satoru normally wouldn’t care either way, but after the day Yuuki must have had— what with being sick, and being on a radio show, and then getting in a fight with a special grade— her body must be running on empty. And he can’t have a precious student going hungry, especially when he’s already failed her once. 

“They can make anything you want,” he needles. Then adds: “Except for humans. That one’s illegal.”

Sukuna just scoffs, shaking his head. He rises to his feet, dusting off stray snowflakes off his (Satoru’s) kimono. Satoru is slightly annoyed how effortlessly graceful he makes the move look; he knows from first hand experience how unwieldy it is to wear each and every one of those pieces of clothing. 

“You wouldn’t know how to prepare it correctly anyway.” He says breezily, ignoring Satoru’s look of disgust at the thought. 

“Curry rice.” Sukuna decides then, as he turns to Satoru and walks back towards him.

Satoru pushes off the door frame, blinking rapidly. “...Curry rice?”

“Yeah. Kokumaru, extra spicy plum flavor.” 

Satoru just blinks some more. 

He literally has an entire kitchen staff, and all Sukuna wants to eat for dinner is… convenience store packet curry? Honestly, even Satoru could probably handle that. It’s just… rice and adding water and some shit. 

Satoru shakes his head in wonder. “Okay then. Curry rice it is.”

☆

Omake:

So, since it’s so late that all the staff has gone to bed, Satoru does indeed make the curry himself. 

As he expected, it’s not particularly difficult. 

Unexpected: Sukuna actually genuinely enjoying it despite the three added cups of sugar Satoru had poured into the mix.

He sets his spoon down in disbelief. “You… like it?” 

Sukuna shrugs. “Yeah. Extra sweet and extra spicy.”

He ignores the bewildering reality of sitting down to eat dinner with the King of Curses, just the two of them with the shoji screens wide open for a view of the immaculate snowfall and black winter night sky, in favor of his own incredulity. No one ever likes Satoru’s food. It’s true there’s not much he can make to begin with, but even packet food like instant ramen or miso soup were banned by his friends because he regularly added pure sugar into all of it. He's not sure what it says about him, that apparently he and Sukuna have similar tastes.

He decides its best not to think too deeply on that. 

Chapter Text

☆

EAT, SLEEP, DANCE ♡

☆

The air was different, out here. 

It was something he’d noticed immediately upon his grand return to life after centuries lying dormant. The air of Yuuki’s world was thick with the smells of humans and their machines, a great population densely yet precisely packed into the small bay of what he once knew as a fishing village named Edo. It wasn't entirely unpleasant; a pungent and foreign presence in the air he’d never experienced before. Mystifying steel towers dwarfed the ancient trees, mechanical beasts lumbered across roads of manmade tar. Nature itself contorted to the will of mankind, mighty rivers diverted, great forests quelled, mountains brought to their knees by human hands. 

Many of his kind would rage at such blasphemy. Many of his kind still did, if the plot at Shibuya was any indication. 

But Sukuna had never been overly interested in the plots of both men and the cursed apparitions that they created, had never been interested in anything but himself. His own wants and desires. And he found the creations of humans in the centuries he’d been asleep to be nothing short of fascinating. Boredom was a foreign thing, in this world of light and sound. He’d spent countless days idle and indolent in the palace he’d called his own, always feeling half a step away from falling into listless oblivion. Fighting and fucking were his only reprieves from the relentless grip of passive existence. 

Since awakening in this era, Sukuna doesn’t think he’s been bored even once. He’s spent every waking moment intrigued— or categorically appalled— by something in Yuuki’s life. She was the sort who never succeeded in sitting still for long; prone to remarking on the most bizarre of subjects at the most inopportune of times and never being satisfied with being a layabout. Even on her days off, she was looking up new dance moves or makeup tutorials. Not a day went by when they didn’t argue about something, often times they’d get into shouting matches that could only be solved with judicious googling of a subject, which then resulted in falling down wikipedia rabbit holes together. This world was vast and full of intrigue, if only one knew where to look.

That very same world continued to exist around him, yet without Yuuki to drag him through it the luster had worn off. 

Acknowledging that he genuinely does not have any desire to exist in a world without her in it had certainly been a rude and jarring and slightly surreal experience, but after having some time to mull it over in his head he’s come to accept it. Sukuna has spent his entire existence as a curse doing what he wants simply because he wanted to do it— how is Yuuki any different? Now that he’s been painfully made aware of them, he’s hardly the sort to deny his own feelings. His own wants. 

And he wants Yuuki. He wants her alive, and well, and haplessly making a mess out of her own life and his own by extension— nagging him into petty arguments just because she thinks it's funny, interrupting his peaceful existence to ask inane and utterly arbitrary questions at the most random of intervals, reading aloud ghastly amateur haikus online just to piss him off. He never thought to appreciate such useless moments, until they’ve all been washed away into this interminable silence. 

He doesn’t understand what went wrong, or why she won’t wake up. His cursed energy, a vast but untroubled ocean that he wields with exacting efficiency, has unraveled and become as untenable as a tempest sea. He cannot even fathom what will happen if he throws another of his fingers into the mix, so he does not. He keeps the finger tucked away and within reach at all times, but he knows he’s fooling neither himself nor the Six Eyes user. If he hadn’t eaten it the moment he’d gotten a hand on it, he wasn’t going to now. And he certainly wasn’t going to when he still had no concrete confirmation on why Yuuki wasn’t waking up. 

To make matters worse, Sukuna knows for certain now that that man is involved. 

He’d never seen that blasphemous monk’s cursed technique in person, all those centuries ago when they’d first met, but he knows enough to infer it has something to do with body transference— or as Yuuki would so delightfully call it, body snatching. The rogue sorcerer Geto Suguru, the blasphemous and reviled Kamo clan head, the Itadori wife; whatever name he’s going by now, it seems that guy hasn’t changed a bit. He’s still around, lurking in the unseen depths of the Jujutsu world, meticulously crafting out the details of his master plans. Sukuna disliked him back then, and he has even more reason to dislike him now; back then he’d never really cared about Kenjaku’s plans, whatever they may be, in the same manner he held little care for the world in general. He’d been happy to stay neutral on it all, if only to see what sort of entertaining prospect may come to fruition. But it’s become forebodingly apparent that whatever machinations he’s crafted, Yuuki  plays a vital role. 

And whatever role that is, he doubts it has anything good in store for Yuuki. 

☆

As much as Satoru would like to call this self-imposed exile a much needed vacation, that’s not actually how life works and he doesn’t get to spend as much time guarding the King of Curses and slothing about his old family home as he’d like. 

Not that Sukuna was even doing anything relatively interesting back at his estate. Last Satoru had seen him he’d been meditating out on the veranda, as he seems to do with most of the hours in the day. If this was anyone else but Sukuna, Satoru would have already used this prime opportunity for pranking to its fullest. Itching cream would be involved. And blare horns. And trip wire. But as it is a fight between Sukuna and Satoru at their current levels of power is likely to cause heretofore untold levels of destruction across the country, or at the very least his perfectly serviceable house, and while Satoru would love a chance to go all out on an opponent like Sukuna, Satoru is just mature enough to recognize that might not be the best idea currently. What with the country still recovering from Shibuya, and Shinjuku the year prior. 

Being an adult really is the worst. 

Also, he’s not entirely certain he wants to deal with Takada in the aftermath. 

So Satoru demonstrably does not mortally offend or piss off his unexpected guest, and lets him be. The Jujutsu World is a mess right now, and he’s plenty occupied throwing his weight around to drag the collective back into some semblance of order. It’s a lot like dragging a bag of howling wet cats. A work in progress, if you will.

Anyway this silent vow of his lasts until the end of the first day of Sukuna just sitting there in that weird trance of his, when Gojo realizes he’s decidedly bored and wants to do something about it.

The snow from their first night has cleared up into a gray overcast haze, and he can see the training grounds just behind a crest of pines, dry and empty. He turns back to Sukuna, who is stockstill in seiza with his eyes still closed. He’d chosen the asanoha-patterned haori Satoru had dug out of storage, delicate geometric embroidery against dark blue fabric, and it looks just as good on him as Satoru had expected it to. 

He looks so strangely and anomalously peaceful, Satoru at first decides to just leave him to it. He busies himself with various household chores on his checklist, suddenly reminded why he has gone through years of adulthood refusing home ownership of any kind. There are apparently water pipes that need to be turned back on after a decade or so without use, servants to be sorted out, electric company staffers to badger about turning the grid back on. The estate is too big even for just the two of them, and that’s including the skeleton crew that stays on the property year round. He’s reminded that this entire compound used to be stuffed to the gills with sorcerers and miscellaneous clan members— a mighty and ancient clan, reduced to him alone. He has distant cousins and an entire offshoot branch somewhere, he thinks out by Kyoto or maybe even farther, but they’re so far removed he doesn’t think any of them have manifested the Limitless technique in centuries. 

He’s so engrossed in his own thoughts it takes him three passes before he realizes Sukuna is actually asleep.

No, not asleep. But deep in a trance, or something close to it. He looks entirely relaxed and unphased by the low temperature, eyes closed and hair unbound around his shoulders. 

He debates if he should just leave him there, or maybe suggest moving out of the freezing temperatures. Surely that can’t be good for Yuuki’s body, right? She’s still human after all.

Like any good agent of chaos lacking in any real sense of self-preservation, he settles for poking the King of Curses on the cheek.

The response isn’t immediate, but it is as inflammatory as he’d expect.

“Fuck off,” the curse growls, without opening his eyes.

Satoru ignores that perfectly reasonable advice and instead pokes him again. “Don’t you want to do this inside?” 

“Do you want to lose that finger?” Sukuna counters, prying open a single evil eye.

“Do you want to lose yours?” Satoru turns the question around, brow raised. “It’s literally freezing out here.”

“Last chance to leave with your limbs intact, sorcerer.” Sukuna drawls, eye slipping shut again.

Satoru rolls his eyes, standing from his crouch with a long stretch of his arms. Fine. Be that way, then. That’s the last time he bothers to worry about Sukuna’s health!

This doesn’t stop him from leaving a pot of warm tea on the tatami mats just inside the shoji screen doors for him anyway.

☆

When he finally shows up at her office after dragging his feet on the matter for a full two days, Shoko looks predictably unimpressed with him. Then again, she’s never been particularly impressed with him at any point in their decades long acquaintanceship. 

“Faking a death certificate? Really, Gojo?” She sighs, stubbing out her cigarette. 

“It can’t be that hard,” Satoru needles, leaning against the railing beside her. “C’mon, do it for me, please?”

“Don’t beg,” Shoko shrivels her nose. “You look like an oversized and overeager retriever dog when you do that.”

He laughs. “Is that a yes, then?”

“I don’t really get what you need it for, but I suppose it’s hardly the most ridiculous thing you’ve asked of me.” Shoko shrugs, heading back into the warmth of her office. “Who’s it for?” 

“Itadori Yuuki.” 

The doctor pauses in shrugging off her coat. She turns to Satoru, blinking owlishly. “The popstar?” She confirms, sounding vaguely bewildered.

Satoru scratches the side of his nose. “Oh, yeah. You might not have heard. She’s the one who swallowed Sukuna’s finger.”

“She’s the one who’s his vessel?” Shoko’s expression turns incredulous. Obviously Shoko had heard Sukuna had a vessel— but as Satoru suspected, the higher-ups had been keeping mum on the identity of the host. Probably to make it easier to claim plausible deniability when they offed her. 

“Funny, right?”

“Bizarre, more like.” Shoko blinks rapidly. “Alright, I’ll bite. Just what is going on here exactly?”

Satoru sighs grandly, flopping into the armchair opposite her desk as he goes about explaining the whole outlandish scenario. By the end of it Shoko has lit up another cigarette, this time not even bothering with the balcony and instead just propping herself up by the open window, and Satoru is sprawled horizontal across his chair, kicking his legs off the side in a decidedly plaintive manner as he vents at her. 

“And all he does is sleep, it’s the weirdest thing!” He complains, scowling. “Or meditate, whatever. In the dumbest of places! It was literally freezing rain last night, why on earth are you just sitting outside in the cold after that? It took me ages to get the heat working in that godforsaken place, ya know, the least he could do is use it.” 

Shoko taps her chin, flicking her ash out the window. “Hmmm… do you think there might be a reason for that?”

Satoru tilts his head back towards her. “What, like he finds the cold bracing or something?”

“The meditating part, I mean,” Shoko clarifies. “I think getting hung up on his choice in location for meditating is missing the point a bit, even for you.” 

Satoru pouts at her. “I’m plenty observant!”

She snorts. “That’s not at all what I meant.” Shoko takes another drag of her cigarette. “Anyway, you said he’s holding off on eating his fourteenth finger, right?”

“Right.” Satoru nods, expression growing serious.

He’d decided immediately after being made aware of Sukuna and Yuuki’s situation that he’d have to trust Shoko with the details. She’s fairly ambivalent towards the higher-ups and the war of attrition he’s got going on with them, but he thinks if it came down to it she’d choose him over them, if only because she was lazy enough to avoid the hassle of aligning with the losing side. And he sort of needs a second opinion on this, preferably one of a doctor, with actual medical knowledge on the human body and a greater understanding of reverse-cursed technique than himself. He might be the strongest Jujutsu Sorcerer alive and a genius with an eidetic memory to boot, but there are some things entirely unknowable to him. 

“Do you see anything odd about his cursed energy with your Six Eyes?”

“Odd?” Satoru repeats, frowning. 

Come to think on it… he hasn’t actually seen anything, at all.

Ryomen Sukuna has proven himself to be a maddeningly difficult person to read, in all aspects. For a man infamous for his overflowing, monstrous cursed energy, he can refine his profile to a point Satoru hasn’t seen since Fushiguro Toji. He must be the one monitoring and controlling Yuuki’s cursed energy signature behind the scenes, which has always been anomalously clear and steady for a newly minted sorcerer. Even Megumi, now a grade one sorcerer, has trouble keeping his cursed energy at perfectly even levels. 

If something was truly wrong with his cursed energy… it’s unlikely Satoru would be able to see it, even with his Six Eyes. 

“You think there’s something wrong with his cursed energy, and that’s why he’s gone into hibernation?”

Shoko just shrugs. “It would make sense, wouldn’t it? Why else would he hold off on consuming yet another of his fingers, unless there was something wrong? An influx of power of that degree might make things worse for him currently.”

Because he’s worried about his host, Satoru thinks, but doesn’t say. 

It’s just speculation on his part, anyway. For all he knew, Shoko could be totally right.

Or, they both could be right. 

“And anyway, why are you just letting him hold on to that?” Shoko adds, annoyed. “Shouldn’t you be confiscating it for the college?”

“What. so they can be stolen again?” Satoru points out, blithely. “With Kamo Noritoshi masquerading in Suguru’s body, nowhere in the college is safe anymore.”

Shoko accepts his point with a pinched expression, mouth thinning into a fine line. 

“And anyway, I wanted to see what he’d do with it.” Satoru continues, crossing his legs indolently. “One more finger doesn’t matter to me either way— thirteen fingers or fourteen, I’m still the only one powerful enough to stop him.”

Shoko just rolls her eyes. “How has that ego of yours not gotten you killed yet,” she complains. 

Satoru laughs. “Who’s to say it hasn’t?”

Technically, it should have gotten him killed (or imprisoned) at least twice now. His own hubris had come through for him at the last moment that first time— as for the second, well, he had no idea what was going through Sukuna’s mind when he decided to release Satoru from the prison realm.

☆

On the third day of Sukuna’s hibernation and Gojo’s self imposed exile, he gets visitors.

“What is this now, Gojo Satoru’s House for Wayward Idols and Curses?” Satoru snorts, sliding the door open. “I’m not running a free charity here, ya know.”

Takada doesn’t even bother to acknowledge him, just hip checks him out of the way and muscles her way through his doorway. If she was at all his type, he would’ve been halfway in love with her just for that. As it is he just laughs loudly at her brazen attitude and moves out of the way so the rest of her ragtag group can cross through the gates. The half-curse half-human doesn’t even glance his way, attention seemingly fixated on something up the hill— as if he can sense exactly where Sukuna in Yuuki’s body is residing. Knowing that blood technique, it’s certainly possible. How else did they all find the address to his estate when he emphatically did not tell it to them? The other two groupmates are a bit more polite about it, the blonde dipping her head in his direction as the shy brunette stutters out a hasty, “Ojamashimasu!” 

He’s a little less amused when he realizes Takada intentionally left the cab ride from Tokyo for him to pay, but he supposes that’s the passive-aggressive lesser of all evils, here. She seems the sort to hold a grudge, and Satoru’s not interested in seeing what kind of grudge she’d hold for getting her kouhai ‘killed’. 

It’s been an age since this house has entertained any guests, let alone any of his, so it takes a few seconds before he remembers manners are a thing and also something people have an odd and bewildering tendency to expect from him, and he remembers to hail a servant for tea. In the meanwhile his impromptu visitors have settled into one of the main tea rooms, with the sole exception of the cursed hybrid, who has elected to sit cross-legged outside the door, like some kind of surly guard dog. 

“So what brings you all here to my humble abode?” He asks gamely, carrying the tray in to save the servants the fright of dealing with yet another cursed anomaly. 

“Humble,” the brunette— Mia, maybe?— mouths with wide eyes. 

Takada rolls her eyes. “Don’t act coy,” she retorts, imperiously. “We’re here to see Yuu-chan, obviously.”

“She’s… resting.” He says, carefully, setting down the tray. 

“You don’t have to talk around the subject; they already know most of it,” Takada informs him. 

“Although Takada-chan’s explanation left much to be desired,” the blonde remarks, with a steely look in Takada’s direction. Takada ignores it with the sort of aplomb he’d expect from an idol of her status. 

“So, she— she’s really possessed by a curse?!” The brunette sniffles. 

“Possessed is kind of an aggressive word for it,” Satoru replies, vaguely. 

He’s not entirely sure who’s ‘possessing’ who in this scenario. 

“Yuuki-chan is currently playing host to a cursed spirit,” Satoru explains after a beat, flopping down in an inelegant sprawl at the head of the table. “The curse in question is very powerful and has, uh, a bit of a reputation. But so far she hasn’t had any issues with it. She’s a very strong girl, our Yuuki-chan.” 

Takada side-eyes him at the ‘our’ in that sentence. Satoru elects to graciously ignore it. 

The brunette just nods miserably. “But she’s not okay right now, right?” 

“Well, no.” Satoru admits. “She was asked to help with an exorcism, since she’s now officially a Jujutsu Sorcerer and part of the school, but it was a bit too much for her and she’s… recovering, currently.”

“Is she awake?” The blonde asks, urgently.

“No.”

Her purple gaze flickers back to her leader’s. Takada glances back at her, nodding. 

“Do you have any idea when she’ll wake up?” Takada asks, gravely. 

“Not exactly. But something similar happened in Shibuya, so we’re optimistic it will be soon.” He lies through his teeth, reaching for the plate of snacks just to give him something to do. 

Takada reaches for one of the cups, drumming her sparkly nails down the side of the ceramic as she frowns at him. “And what about Sukuna-sama?”

Sukuna…-sama? Satoru repeats internally, flabbergasted. 

“He’s, uh,” he’s so bewildered it takes him a moment to formulate a response. “... handling it.”

Takada is really giving him a stink eye now. 

“Yuuki-chan will be fine, she just needs some time to recuperate. How long do you think you can keep your management from asking too many questions?”

The three girls share a glance. 

“Well, live events are all postponed indefinitely after the ‘terrorist attack’ in Shibuya,” Takada mulls it over. “Our promotional schedule is fairly light because of it. If we say she has a more serious illness, we could push for another week or two.”

“Yuuki-chan had a few personal events, but Maya-chan and I can cover for that,” the blonde pipes up, with a nod towards the shy brunette. 

“Right! We’re happy to help.” Maya agrees, and then they're off to the races finagling their schedules accordingly.

They don’t actually stay that long, but the experience is profoundly uncomfortable for Satoru nonetheless. He’s never felt responsible for another person’s wellbeing and general existence like this before, so in many respects it's also a rather novel experience. Even as a teacher, people don’t look to Satoru as some kind of beacon of accountability. They look at him as if he’s a power of authority, certainly, but never as if he’s the sole guardian and conservator of another human being’s physical and emotional welfare. 

He also doesn’t feel guilt all that often, but Takada is nothing if not the master of guilt trips, apparently. She’d managed to wheedle out a promise from Todo at some point, and is now easily doing the same to him. She at least seems to accept that when it comes to curses, even someone as powerful as Satoru can’t make many promises. Still she wrangles out of him a solemn vow to watch over Yuuki and help her in her recovery to the best of his abilities.

They leave him with yet another astronomical taxi bill to pay, this time back into the city, and a churlish and unapproachable half-curse who lurks behind him with an unabashed judgemental expression. 

“What are you doing with my sister,” the kid has the gall to demand of him, voice flat, as Satoru waves blithely at the retreating taxi.

“Hmm?” He feigns ignorance, pushing off the front gate and making his way back into the estate proper. The half-curse— Choso— dogs his steps. 

“If something happened to her, you should have brought her back to us,” the dark-haired brat insists, glowering at him. 

Us, is it? Satoru notices, curious. Is he very close to her groupmates, then? Satoru had observed they appeared to be a surprisingly tight-knit group. He’d always assumed idols secretly hated each other outside of their bubbly and overly-friendly televised interactions, but Pastel Palettes was proving him wrong. 

“The situation is a bit more complicated than that.” Satoru returns, once more slipping off his shoes at the genkan and shrugging out of his coat. Predictably, Choso does neither. Not that Satoru gives a flying fuck about ‘respecting his house’ or whatever. The more curses that dirty up this place— literally and figuratively— the better, in his opinion.

“Is she really alright?”

“Honestly, I don’t know.” Satoru admits, causing the man to frown further. “I’m leaving it up to Sukuna right now. Her body is in perfect health, but mentally she hasn’t woken. A colleague of mine thinks it might be an issue with her cursed energy.”

Choso digests this with a deep frown. “Where is she?” His eyes dart around the snow-dusted grounds as they travel across the outer engawa towards the main house proper. “I can sense her here, but I can’t get a proper read on her location.”

“Probably the old wards interfering?” Satoru guesses. He also has a difficult time pinpointing Yuuki’s location, but for entirely different reasons.

Choso is likely using the Kamo blood technique— which reminds Satoru he really needs to get around to interrogating the curse on that— to locate her, an entirely different process than the Gojo clan’s Six Eyes. Satoru uses an individual’s unique cursed energy signature to locate them, while Choso uses their blood. Since Sukuna regulates his energy signature so precisely he’s damnably good at blending in with his surroundings, he's difficult to pinpoint for the Six Eyes. As for Choso’s blood technique… Satoru really doesn’t have the slightest clue. It could be the wards, for all he knows. They’re centuries old.

Luckily they stumble upon him before they even have to launch a search at all, looking as serene as a bodhisattva statue on the edge of a frozen pond. 

He’s still in yet another one of teenage Satoru’s traditional outfits, reminding Satoru that he’s now in possession of an entire bag of Yuuki’s stuff. Somehow, despite seeing him wearing Yuuki’s outfits multiple times at this point, the idea of Sukuna dressing in any of the stuff in this suitcase is utterly bewildering. 

“Yuuki—” Choso moves to step forward, but Satoru holds him back.

“That’s not Yuuki,” he reminds the other man, narrowing his eyes at the stone still figure. He pries his blindfold up with one finger, confirming what he’d seen with his Six Eyes. Her serene face is painted with dark lines, crawling down the collar of Satoru’s hakama, ringing inky black around her wrists. Those are Sukuna’s markings. And they hadn’t been there before.

“Stay here,” he tells the half-curse. 

Surprisingly, the surly half-curse obeys. Probably because the cursed death-womb painting actually has some smidgen of self-preservation, and likely realized any kind of confrontation with the King of Curses wouldn’t end well for him.

For good or for ill, that’s not a worry Satoru needs to have. 

His slippers crunch in the fresh snow as he picks his way through the frozen garden, coming to a halt in front of Yuuki’s meditative form. He pokes Sukuna in the cheek again, expecting a mouth to form and attempt to bite him.

When it doesn’t come, he prods; “Oi, Sukuna, we have a visitor.” 

No response. 

Frowning, Satoru reaches out to grip him by the shoulder. Just as his hand makes contact, two crimson eyes snap open, holding his gaze and pulling him inward. Literally. 

A Domain Expansion is just the physical manifestation of an Innate Domain into reality. The Innate Domain itself is, of course, innate. Something intrinsic and internal and individual to a person. Some, like Satoru’s or that Mt. Fuji curse, are extremely dangerous just to exist in. Other’s, like the special grade Nanami and Maki had fought against in Shibuya, have domains that aren’t inherently lethal. From what Satoru has seen of Sukuna’s, he has one more like the latter. But he’s also seen Sukuna release his domain in a manner he would have previously thought impossible, rewriting over reality itself as opposed to creating a domain within a confined dimensional space. 

It would stand to reason then that the undefined, fluid nature of Sukuna’s domain would mean he could pull people into it just like he could manifest it out of himself. 

Satoru blinks rapidly, prying his blindfold off to get full situational awareness. 

He stands at the mouth of the domain, a massive skeletal structure looming over him like enclosing ribs. Serenely calm pools of blood surround him on all sides, and if he peers into them, he can just discern the outline of old bones decaying in the water. He walks forward, tilting his head this way and that as he tries to catch all the minute details of the domain; it’s far more intricate than any he’s ever seen before. Complex structures rise in the infinite, unfurling distance, backdropped against a blood red sky; a sophisticated, labyrinthine mind palace. 

His perusal of this fascinating domain is interrupted by its owner. 

“You really are quite bold— and stupid— to walk right into my domain like this, sorcerer.”

“If you’ll recall, I’ve been here before.” Satoru replies without missing a beat, with a confidence he suddenly, upon looking up, absolutely does not feel.

And not because he’s intimidated. But because he’s… found himself indisposed.

His brain sort of short circuits as he wanders past the skeletal hall and into the towering shrine proper, and comes face to face with the King of Curses in his own inner domain. He finds his mouth going a bit dry and all the thoughts leaving his head with a deafening whoosh as he’s regaled, in all the infinite and meticulous detail of his Six Eyes, with the visage of a decidedly male Ryomen Sukuna. 

He was prepared for a lot of things. But definitely not this.

“I had other prey to preoccupy me then,” Sukuna points out, as he lounges indolently on his throne. 

Satoru can’t take his eyes off of him. 

His brain reboots, and questions fill the ringing silence between his ears. Is this Sukuna’s true form? He’s called the double-faced specter, but he looks rather unremarkably human. Two arms, one head— two eyes, even, although he might just be keeping the other set closed as he still has the markings on his cheeks. There are markings on his face, the sort that Satoru has only seen very briefly on Yuuki’s face when he’s possessing her and his power flares as he executes curse techniques. Could this possibly be… how Sukuna looked back when he was still human? Before he became the King of Curses? And if so, what did it mean, that he still looked so much like Yuuki? Hell, they could be twins! He’d say they were basically identical, except Yuuki is not a tall, broad-chested, tattooed hunk of a man with appallingly great hair and a smirking mouth Satoru wants to do terrible things to— and yeah, okay, for the sake of his own mental health he’s going to stop there. 

He has just enough presence of mind to formulate a response. “If you didn’t want me here, you’d have kicked me out already.”

Sukuna leans forward, eyes gleaming. “Who said I didn’t want you?”

And that’s—

Nope. Nope. Not going there. Absolutely not. 

God bless, what is wrong with him? He hates people touching him, as a general rule. Why then is he so eager to climb Sukuna like a tree, after all of five seconds devouring the sight of his male form? 

I have a lot of problems, and every single one of them is my fault. Satoru thinks, long-suffering.

He decides the only way he’s getting out of here without ending up naked by his own volition is to ignore that on general principle. 

Instead he turns away from Sukuna’s skull-pile throne tower, to one of the pavilions floating in the bloody water along the side of his shrine. Most of them are empty, aside from one, where a girl with pink hair sleeps in a white yukata, utterly dead to the world. 

Yuuki looks blissfully ignorant to the chaos her comatose state has created, face peaceful and serene. It’s a little odd to see, actually— she always seems so effervescent, captured in movement and energy. To see her so still and silent is unnerving in comparison. He wonders if that’s why Sukuna had her moved to the pavilion farthest from his throne, and swathed it in thick, gauzy curtains. If Satoru asked him directly he’d probably say he just didn’t care either way and wanted her out of sight, but if that were truly the case he could have just tossed her behind a mountain of skulls. Instead he’d seen to it to have her resting in comfort, close enough to keep an eye on without having to see the unsettling sight of her so still. 

“No change, huh?” He says, mainly just to fill the silence. 

Sukuna, unsurprisingly, doesn’t deign this with a response. 

Satoru sighs, flopping down next to Yuuki’s prone form. It’s a surprisingly comfortable setup, with a downy futon spread across the raised surface, soft curtains blocking out the worst of the skull piles. Actually, from this angle, with the traditional palaces looming in the distance and the weak light diffused into something oddly warm, the domain actually seems rather peaceful. Odd, that. 

Satoru blinks, looking around again.

Very odd indeed. 

He looks down at his feet, where the water around the pavilion seems oddly clear for a cesspool of blood and decaying bodies. He peers down, frowning. There’s a form just below him that doesn’t look like a skull at all. Actually, is that a… flower? 

“Is that—?” 

“Why are you here, sorcerer?” Sukuna cuts him off. 

Satoru blinks again. The flower is gone, leaving a hollowed, empty skull staring back at him. Had he just imagined it then? His gaze flicks back up to Sukuna, and he remembers all at once why he’d been distracting himself with the scenery in the first place. His eyes briefly land on the deep vee of skin Sukuna’s relaxed kimono reveals, the markings drawing the eye downward— before he determinably turns his gaze away and makes a show of being entirely unphased by the sight. 

“I’ve been guilt tripped by Taka-chan into taking better care of Yuuki-chan during her recovery.” Satoru says, patting Yuuki gently on the head. She doesn’t move at all, which unsettles him more than he can put into words. Yuuki should never be this still, or silent. 

“So you’ve decided to annoy me in pursuit of this goal?” Sukuna drawls, not sounding terribly annoyed by it despite his remark. “Don’t you have better things to do?”

“Not particularly,” Satoru replies, blithely. 

In point of fact, he actually has plenty to do, but he thinks he’ll be forgiven for hedging them off in favor of keeping an eye on the most dangerous curse of them all. Besides, the rest of the Jujutsu world is off hunting for traces of Kamo Noritoshi, and there are certainly better sorcerers suited to that kind of work than Satoru. 

Satoru claps his hands. “So, in light of that, how about you stop all this meditating stuff and come in and eat? I’ll even make curry.” 

Sukuna, hilariously, seems to consider this as an prospect worth merit. He makes a noncommittal noise as he leans all his weight onto his elbow, staring upwards. Satoru does not look at the long arch of his neck as he does it. 

“No. I want a hamburger steak.” Sukuna demands, to Satoru’s surprise. 

“Extra rare,” he adds, which is significantly less surprising. 

“Sure, sure,” Satoru agrees, gamely. Protein is probably good for Yuuki right now, no matter how questionably it's cooked. 

☆

“Choso-kun, why don’t you just live with me forever,” Satoru propositions, quite seriously, as he reaches for yet another helping of sweet tamago. Who would have thought this surly half-curse would be so good at cooking? 

Satoru had went ahead and did his level best to attempt cooking a hamburger steak, but as it turns out, his skills in the kitchen start and end with boiling water, turning on a rice cooker, and following simple directions on the backs of convenience store packet food. Luckily he had a brooding sous chef in lieu of the estate’s usual cooking staff— they’d all basically deserted the place once Sukuna took up residence, and frankly Satoru doesn’t blame them—  who turned out to be a master in the kitchen. Satoru has to wonder if that’s how he ended up begrudgingly winning the favor of all of Yuuki’s groupmates. It was definitely surreal to see them all show up with him in tow, not even batting an eyelash at the century old curse hybrid in their midst. 

Choso just glares at him over his own bowl of rice, nonplussed. “I’m not leaving Yuuki.”

“She can live with me too,” Satoru adds without missing a beat. Choso gives him a baleful look in response. 

Satoru is only slightly kidding about this. It sort of worries him that Yuuki lives alone, although he understands with her job it would be difficult to stay at the school dorms full time. Apparently the idol dorms are too small for Choso to fit in hers, which does bring up the question of where the hell the guy is sleeping at night. Being a centuries-old cursed death womb painting, Satoru doubts he knows how to book and purchase a hotel. And Satoru has a perfectly enormous and entirely unused estate, not to mention the house he owns by the school, and the apartment he keeps in the city. Plenty of space for a half-curse hybrid with mysteriously acquired culinary skills. 

He’d be perfectly happy to house the darling pink charm of Pastel Palettes and her wayward half-curse ‘brother’. Housing Sukuna though… 

Well. That might be bad for his health.

In more ways than one.

“This is pretty good, Six Eyes,” Sukuna comments— the first thing he’s said all evening— as he unceremoniously spears the rest of his hamburger steak and seems to swallow it in one go. 

“Thanks!” Satoru replies, brightly. “I had basically nothing to do with it.” The most he did was point Choso in the direction of the ingredients and boil the sauce. 

Choso side-eyes Sukuna briefly, looking rather discomfited by his presence. In deference to some kind of curse hierarchy Satoru is unaware of? Or is he simply weirded out that his sweet little sister is currently being possessed by a mean and uncharitable man? 

Either way, it’s been one of the most awkward and surreal dinners Satoru’s ever had in his life. He would have never guessed he’d be back at the wretched estate he’d sworn never to set foot in again, with not one, but two curses by his side. The thought thrills him. His ancestors must be rioting in the afterlife. 

It’s already uncomfortable as it is, so he sees no reason to avoid difficult conversation topics over some misguided sense of proprietary.

“So what exactly is your deal with calling Yuuki-chan your sister?” He asks, rudely pointing his chopsticks in the half-curse’s direction.

Choso just blinks at him, deadpan. “She’s my sister.” 

Satoru rolls his eyes under his blindfold. “Somehow born a century after you and the rest of the death womb paintings? I find that a little impossible to believe.”

“It's possible, when that man is involved.” Choso returns, tone turning frigid. 

This causes Sukuna to look up with an intrigued expression. “Ah,” is all he says on the matter.

Satoru glances his way, finding his own interest piqued by such a reaction. It’s a hell of a lot easier to look Sukuna in the eye when he’s once again watching him from Yuuki’s sweet, girlish face, but Satoru doesn’t think anything short of mind bleach will get the visage of his handsome male form out of his mind. 

Choso looks towards Sukuna as well, frown on his face. “You know of him?”

Sukuna’s expression shudders. He sets his chopsticks down. “I really can't say.” He comments, and it sounds vague and disinterested, but doesn’t quite manage to fool Satoru. 

He’s not entirely sure when he became such a reliable interpreter of Sukuna’s moods, but he zeroes in on the response nonetheless. “You can’t say, or you won’t say?” He presses, causing Choso to glance at him sharply. 

“It’s a binding vow?” The half-curse asks, brow furrowed. 

Satoru doesn’t answer, frowning down at his plate. Sukuna doesn’t respond to either of them in any particular manner, vocal or otherwise, which Satoru finds telling enough. If he really could speak on the matter, he’d be taunting them— or specifically, Satoru— with the information one way or another. That he can’t even comment at all speaks volumes. 

When Satoru looks up, he finds Sukuna staring unerringly at him.

“Six Eyes, come here,” he says, holding his gaze. 

He shouldn’t follow that command with as little hesitation as he does. Getting up close and personal with the King of Curses is a safety hazard even to someone as statistically invulnerable as himself— Satoru wonders what it says about himself, that he trusts the curse enough to give him access to his person. 

Satoru obliges and scoots closer to him. The moment he’s in range, Sukuna reaches up for his blindfold. The movement is slow and telegraphed, giving Satoru ample time to have an entire agonizing internal debate with himself on whether or not to allow the touch. 

A small, soft finger slips under his blindfold, tugging it loose. The fabric unspools into Sukuna’s waiting hand, revealing his Six Eyes. Sukuna has no trouble bearing the full weight of his cursed eyes. It’s Yuuki’s warm golden eyes that stare back at him, but it’s Sukuna’s cursed energy that pulls him inexorably inwards. 

As he willingly follows the curse into his own inner domain, he expects to find himself once again in that endless pool of blood and bones. But it’s not Sukuna’s inner domain that greets him. It’s a memory, a piece of his consciousness brought to the forefront. 

Judging from what he sees, it might not even be Sukuna’s memory at all. He’s in someone’s arms, cradled in a safe and familiar haven that smells comforting and soft. He doesn’t recognize the man carrying him, but the voice is soothing within the memory. 

Satoru can’t help but wonder why Sukuna would be showing him this. It can’t be his own childhood memory, so it must be Yuuki’s. The older man carrying the infant Yuuki is speaking to someone, but little Yuuki can’t understand the words. 

Then a woman looks over the man’s shoulder with a haunting, empty smile. A woman with wretched and ghastly familiar stitches across the top half of her head. The baby Yuuki squeals excitedly at the sight of her. 

Ah. 

Satoru is abruptly released from the memory. 

He pulls away, blinking rapidly. Sukuna still has his blindfold in hand, watching him with inexpressive eyes. 

“I see,” Satoru says, leaning back. He turns to Choso. “The Kamo ancestor responsible for the Death Womb paintings… the woman who was Yuuki’s mother… and the brain in Geto Suguru’s body— they’re all the same person.” 

Choso’s expression turns grim as he nods. “I suspected as much, but I did not know the specifics. All I know for certain is our blood relation.”

“That still doesn’t make any sense,” Satoru points out, pouting. “The Kamo blood technique is based on blood. If this guy is taking over other people’s bodies—

“Body snatching,” Sukuna interrupts, bizarrely. 

“— sure yeah, body snatching works too,” Satoru recovers, perplexed that this is what Sukuna fixates on. “Anyway if he’s literally changing bodies, how do you still have a blood connection with Yuuki? He’s not changing their bodies into his when he, uh, snatches them if you will, so that shouldn’t make a difference.”

“It’s probably part of his cursed technique.” Choso shrugs, seeming unconcerned over it. 

Satoru supposes he has the right of it. Either way, the fact remains the Kamo blood technique shows Choso and Yuuki as siblings, even if genetically speaking they don’t share parents or lineage at all. 

He turns his gaze back to Sukuna, who is now idly toying with his blindfold.

It’s obvious that Sukuna knows who this person is— he’d hinted as much already. But just how much does he know? And how much does this binding vow that he’s apparently made with this creature allow him to say? 

Sukuna once again holds his gaze without flinching. “Not here,” he says, simply, as he reaches for his cup. 

Satoru frowns. Sukuna takes a sip of tea. “I’ll answer what I can, but not here.” 

He says it casually, almost offhand, but something about his words causes a cold shiver to crawl up his spine. Sukuna is not one for subtleties or subterfuge. If he’s actually exercising some modicum of discretion, Satoru can only assume the reason is… decidedly unpleasant. 

“Sure,” is all he says aloud, picking up his chopsticks once again. 

A wary silence descends upon them, and this time, Satoru is too lost in his own thoughts to care enough to break it. 

☆

He wants to prod Sukuna for more answers, but doesn’t really get the chance.

Night falls in earnest, and he clicks off his phone with a sigh and leans back to stretch his aching back. He’d just finished relaying instructions to Yuuta, which had taken longer than he had expected. 

Unsurprisingly, the Zen’in are in turmoil and the collective Jujutsu society is perfectly happy to ignore it and watch to see which way the pieces fall. Theoretically, as head of the Gojo clan he definitely can’t be seen getting involved himself, but with both Megumi and Maki as known allies of his, it’s not entirely unreasonable or unexpected for him to push his agenda. Old man Naobito already named Megumi his successor, before he kicked the bucket unexpectedly two days ago, so it’s not even as if he has to exercise his influence in that regard. 

Man, what a terrible time for that old sack of bones to finally give up the ghost, he can’t help but think. But it also matches up perfectly with the recent penitentiary incident that could have easily taken the lives of all three of his students, had Sukuna not intervened. Of course Naoya would rather take Megumi out by such underhanded means, rather than facing him head on as a sorcerer. What a rat bastard. 

Regardless, Megumi was now in the unenviable position of defending a throne he’d never wanted in the first place. 

At least Yuuta’s return to the country couldn’t have been better timed. 

With Yuuta on hand, Satoru could at least rest easy knowing he had a trustworthy and reliable ally to lean on when he couldn’t be in two places at once. Yuuta could keep an eye on Megumi while he vied for his position in the clan— in fact, between the two of them Yuuta was likely the better option to do that anyway. Megumi was more likely to accept his help, and Satoru wouldn’t have to deal with inter clan politics crying foul over his personal involvement. 

And as it stands, Satoru was going to be too occupied with the King of Curses to help anyhow. 

“Oi, Six Eyes, where’s your bath?”

A surly voice interrupts his musings. Satoru props himself forward, leaning over the Kotatsu he’d been curled up under. “I have a name, y’know,” he pouts dramatically. “And it’s a very nice one. I’ve been so good to you, and you won’t even call me by my name? So cruel, Sukuna.”

Sukuna stops at the entryway to the sitting room, leaning against the shouji screen with an unmoved expression. He’s changed into one of Satoru’s old kinagashi, and even though the last time Satoru probably wore that was as a scrawny fifteen year-old, the scandolously thin garment still hangs a little loose around his shoulders. The more informal wear seems somehow positively indecent on him, even though he’s completely covered. 

Sukuna folds his arms. “Where’s your bath, Satoru-kun?”

Satoru suddenly feels uncomfortably warm, in a way that has nothing to do with the temperature of the kotatsu. He can’t even complain about this, can he? He did just tell the curse to use his name. He just vastly underestimated how sensual it was going to sound coming out of his mouth. 

Satoru fights off the rising flush on his cheeks. “What, you don’t know how to use a shower?”

There should be a master bath in the room Sukuna claimed as his own. Surely after this much time in the modern era, the curse must know how to use bathroom appliances. 

Sukuna just rolls his eyes— all four of them. “Yes, I’m aware of how a shower works. That’s not what I’m asking.” 

Satoru debates just needling the curse a little more for the fun of it, but ultimately decides it's not worth the effort. The only reason he hasn’t gone to them himself is the unwieldy walk through the cold and snow it warrants, but Sukuna has a point. Why not use all the amenities such a fine estate offers, since they’re already here? 

He gets up from his warm cocoon under the blankets. “Fine, fine. I’ll show you the way.”

It’s as chilly as expected once they leave the warmth of the main house. A long, covered engawa stretches across the manicured gardens, leading to the other various houses. Under the cover of night only the dim light from the garden lanterns illuminates the path forward. Despite this being Satoru’s family estate, it’s Sukuna who looks like he belongs here, draped in Satoru’s old clothes— especially so when Satoru grabs him the matching hakama coat to his kinagashi for the walk through the cold, only realizing it has the Gojo clan crest embroidered on the back when Sukuna puts it on. Satoru, the head of the clan, in his usual pants and jacket, somehow looks like the interloper here. He tries not to stare too terribly, as Sukuna walks a little bit in front of him, as if he’s the master of this house and Satoru’s just some random guest. 

Satoru feels the tips of his ears burn. With his hair loose and unbound across his shoulders, an informal yukata, and the Gojo clan emblem on his back… rather than the master of the house, doesn’t he give off the air of the wife? 

“What?” Sukuna spits out, waspishly, when Satoru’s staring finally gets to be too much for him.

“Nothing,” Satoru quickly looks away, gaze focused out on the dark gardens. Somewhere, a deer scare tips and sends a hollow ringing sound across the silence. “It’s the next building on the left.” 

Like the rest of the compound, it hasn’t been used in a decade at least, although the staff have at least kept it clean and tidy. The light flickers on after a few tries, revealing the interior bathing and washing area. It’s not until Sukuna unceremoniously shucks off his hakama that Satoru remembers why they’re even here, and it’s not until the man— currently being housed in a female body—  is tugging at his obi that Satoru remembers he can’t be here. 

“I’ll just— wait outside.” He says, hastily, and then shuts the door. 

He can hear Sukuna laughing at him from the other side. 

He can also hear the sounds of shifting clothing, then the sputtering of water through the pipes as Sukuna rinses off, and finally, the splashing and hiss of steam as he settles into the bath. There’s more splashing, and then the shuddering of the screen door as Sukuna crosses into the exterior section of the onsen, only separated from Satoru by a bamboo grove. 

“You don’t have to just stand there. I’m capable of bathing without drowning, Six Eyes,” the other man drawls, although he sounds too satisfied with the water to be terribly annoyed. “Unless you plan on peeking?”

“Of course not.” He says, shortly. But the baths are at the farthest end of the property, it’s the dead of night, and there’s literally nothing separating them from prying eyes but a bit of greenery. Maybe it’s old-fashioned of him, but he simply doesn’t like the idea of his student— or the curse possessing her body— out here alone at night. 

He’d snap back a pointed remark of his own on the King of Curses being a pervert himself, bathing in that body and all, but it seems oddly uncharitable. Sukuna has been nothing but courteous and respectful of the physical vessel he’s been residing within, to an almost unfathomable degree. 

Sukuna just makes an amused, noncommittal noise. He sinks lower into the water. “Well, I suppose your presence is useful. I had something I needed to relay to you anyway.”

Satoru sits up straighter. “Is that so?” 

“I’m leaving tomorrow.” He announces, without fanfare.

“... How kind of you to inform me beforehand.” He says, blandly. 

Water laps at the rocky border of the onsen. Satoru doesn’t have to see his figure to know the curse is shrugging. “You would have followed me and bugged me about it either way, no? Figured I’d save us both the trouble.” 

Satoru chuckles. Well, the King of Curses has a point. “Why the sudden change? Have Yuuki’s circumstances changed?”

“No, but mine have.” Sukuna reveals. “Earlier this evening, a finger of mine was removed from the bindings concealing it and sealing its power.”

Satoru frowns, staring out into the dark gardens. Another of Sukuna’s fingers has surfaced… but why now of all times? “How certain are you that it’s not a trap?”

“Not at all.” Sukuna concedes. “But if it’s not, would you gamble it falling into someone else’s hands?” 

“As opposed to yours?” Satoru scoffs. 

“I invited you, did I not, Six Eyes?” Sukuna counters. 

Back to Six Eyes, huh? Satoru’s not about to complain about it again. He’s not sure if he can hear Satoru-kun out of that man’s mouth for a second time without his face bursting into flames. Somehow, unfathomably, it’s even worse than Yuuki calling him sensei. 

“Feel free to fight me for it, if you wish.” Sukuna continues, sounding far too eager at the prospect. 

Satoru doesn’t acknowledge the offer. Tempting as it may be— for both of them, from the sound of it— he doesn’t think either of them are in any position to be risking an all out fight between the two of them. Sukuna is barely above half strength as it is, and the status of his vessel is still unknown. And Satoru is unwilling to risk the health of one of his student’s just to satiate his bloodlust. 

He feels apprehensive over allowing Sukuna to have possession of yet another of his fingers, but not to the degree he thinks he should be. 

He thinks Shouko was right, when she hypothesized that Sukuna may be holding off on consuming more of his power until his current energy leveled out. But he thinks his own theory has merit, and Sukuna might also be holding off due to Yuuki’s predicament. In any case, conceding another finger to Sukuna wouldn’t change much. 

“Where is it? The college?” Can he sense movement from his fingers over such a distance? 

“No,” Sukuna returns, shortly. “Further north.”

North? Satoru blinks. How north are they talking here? Tochigi? Fukushima? Farther? Hokkaido? 

When he voices that question aloud, Sukuna has no real answer to give him. Apparently at thirteen fingers in strength his sensory range is quite far, but the degree to which he can pinpoint it is low. Satoru supposes it doesn’t really matter; they’ll travel north, and the closer they get, the better Sukuna will be able to sense it, until eventually either Sukuna can pinpoint the location or Satoru’s Six Eyes will pick it up... though Satoru can’t help but wonder just how long this little detour is going to take them, with no concrete map to guide them. 

Sukuna probably has the right of it, anyway. If it’s a trap, Satoru has complete confidence that between the two of them— or three, depending on whether Choso tags along—  they’ll be able to handle it. If it's not, better to secure the finger now before it can cause havoc on an unsuspecting population, or attract the attention of unwanted parties. 

Satoru slips his blindfold off, tilting his head back to stare up at the sky. The clouds have dispersed, leaving a bright, starlit galaxy unfurling endlessly into the darkness. 

“North it is.”