Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“You need to rest.” 

“I’m fine. What we need to do is figure out what’s going on.”

“You would have fallen over already without my aid. Little brother, you're shaking… Give yourself a break. Have you not earned it?” 

Choso couldn't ignore his brother’s unyielding nature, but he couldn’t cater to it either. The pair had been walking for hours and before their displacement, days across the remains of Shibuya fighting cursed spirit after cursed spirit. Rest was not something Yuji prioritized, and it was only after the first night they spent together did Choso ascertain why, though his brother’s reasoning for this needless self-inflicted punishment was lost on him. 

“I can’t rest.” In spite of Yuji’s insistence, Choso set his brother down against the closest pillar of concrete supporting the bridge above their heads. With the sun off their backs and a breeze flowing through this tunnel, his brother would sit comfortably out of the sun’s glaring sight. The late summer heat was not kind, only compounded by the dense cityscape surrounding them.

“Choso, how can you be so calm about this?” Yuji’s body didn’t argue alongside his words as his brother’s head fell back against the cold wall behind him. “You saw the date.”

“I’m calm because it's my job to be.” Unnerving as it must be to feel the summer’s presence when winter was around the corner, Choso would ground his brother in place. Whatever concern he felt regarding their circumstances remained dormant, so long as Yuji was there to observe him. 

“Do you have your wallet still? I will acquire food and information while you recover.” 

Choso stood over Yuji as his brother pulled the faux leather pouch into his pocket. Battered and torn from days of struggle, the wallet managed to hold its shape and the crumbled bills inside. 

His brother would not approve of taking food without the proper compensation. He hadn’t when the city fell apart, actively leaving behind coins and other means to pay back the businesses they scavenged through when Choso knew no one was going to return. At first, Choso believed the odd behavior was either out of habit or in a desperate bid for normalcy, but perhaps it went deeper than that. Stealing was a crime, and even in the absence of authority to enforce such laws, Yuji sought to obey them as a means to keep the rest of himself in check.

And now that there were people surrounding them again, such behavior wasn’t going to change. Hopefully, there were enough bills to cover a decent meal. Choso wasn’t above stealing, but to avoid his brother’s disapproval and bring more attention to himself than necessary, he’d do his best to compromise.

“You don’t have to do this for me. I can go myself in a minute—” Paradoxically, Yuji had already handed Choso his wallet upon his older brother’s request, doing nothing to convince him that he should engage with this last-minute indecision.

“I won’t be gone long. There look to be a few convenient stores on the road above us. They tend to have meals prepared for sale, correct?” Choso stepped back into the sun, a hand protecting his eyes as he cranked his neck back to view the brightly colored signage overhead. To his right, a tall set of stairs hugged the wall, supporting the upper street level. It was fortunate that the distance between them would remain short, as such blessings put Choso’s mind at ease.

“Keep your cursed energy as close to you as possible and don’t move from this spot. If danger comes, flare your aura just enough to get my attention.” 

Ideally, Choso would only be gone for a handful of minutes, but he knew better than to expect his errands to be shorter than a half-hour, given the density of the crowd he could make out from where he stood. While he could not deduce if he and his brother’s presence had alerted any sorcerers present in the city, Choso hoped that the two of them could remain— as his brother put it —flying under the radar for as long as possible until they had answers for the inevitable onslaught of questions they were sure to endure upon getting caught.

“Ok. But you better get something for yourself while you’re there.”

“It is unnecessary—”

“Not to me.”

The ferocity behind eyes, so unbearably tired, was not something Choso could bring himself to compete with. 

Food was not a concern Choso had to personally contend with. His unique biology made it possible for him to go long periods of time without consuming anything, subsisting on his own cursed energy to keep his body fresh and alert. Choso suspected that he could go another few days without food if they remained vigilant of trouble, but if it brought Yuji his own sense of ease, his older brother wouldn’t deny his request.

“Alright. I grab something for both of us. I’ll be back shortly.” Choso took a few steps before placing a hand on the wire mesh fence, keeping reckless youth from jumping over the short concrete wall along the exposed side of the stairs. “I mean it, little brother. Don’t move from this spot.”

“I heard you the first time.”

The sight of Yuji waving him off was the last push Choso required to formally begin his ascent to the upper level, where he hoped to find a decent food market or street vendor close by. The steps themselves were rather steep, deterring regular use from those with poor footing or shorter legs due to discomfort. They were tight as well, offering little space to fit more than one person comfortably, which hindered any form of cross-traffic between the upper and lower levels. These factors combined left the stairs sparse and Choso to walk alone, giving him time to think before he melded into the bustling crowd that flocked to the street above.

Choso could not recall how he and his brother ended up wandering the streets of an untouched Shibuya. The last memory he had was of Yuji’s executioner, Okkotsu Yuta, and his classmate, Fushiguro Megumi, returning to discuss their plans to meet with Master Tengen in search of answers regarding the culling game commenced by that thing Choso was forced to acknowledge as the shared parent of he and his siblings. The four of them were walking through the city’s remains, fortunate that many of the cursed spirits nearby fled at their shared aura alone, which should have made the trek to Jujutsu Tech swift.

Then Yuji had begun to lag behind. Distracted by his own thoughts, he was far too removed from reality to notice how much the distance between himself and the others had grown.

Perhaps it was Choso’s presence by his side that provided enough security to allow his brother to operate on autopilot. With at least one set of footsteps matching his own, Yuji continued to slow until his steps stuttered and eventually stilled. From high on the hill they’d climbed, Yuji stared at the flattened earth and splattered crimson that overtook the metropolitan cityscape with nothing but dismantled buildings and ruins to form a twisted crown along the edge. 

His brother had done this before. Drifting into a state of perpetual mourning, Choso remembered reaching out for his brother’s shoulder to coax him out of his self-imposed torment and back to the present. The sensation of fabric against his palms was all that remained, as the memories that should have followed were absent with no sign of their return.

Within the blink of an eye, the two brothers were separated only by a couple of meters. Fists raised, bodies equally disoriented and on high alert for a foe that was now hidden from both natural and unnatural perception. Or there was never an enemy, to begin with. The thought crossed Choso’s mind, but that did little to explain why the buildings had returned to their skyline and the crowd walked as if the last couple of days were nothing but a nightmare shared only by the two displaced brothers.

Okkotsu and Fushiguro were nowhere to be found. Their cursed energy, residuals and all, had vanished without a trace. Hours of searching only offered more questions than answers. His brother bore the brunt of the confusion, quickly discovering the details of their surroundings of great concern, which Choso had originally overlooked. 

Now braving the crowd once more, Choso couldn’t help but observe the ever-moving swarm of humans around him. A chill accompanied Choso’s gaze even as he braved the summer heat. To witness such mundane behavior was unnerving. As silly of a notion as it was, Yuji’s description of how he felt captured Choso’s own.

“It’s as if the ghosts of Shibuya had come back to haunt them.”

Shaking his head of such thoughts, Choso focused on the people directly, as opposed to what the overall sight before him meant for a while. As Yuji had previously pointed out upon their arrival, the movement of people remained the same. The tendency for individuals to keep to themselves as they navigated around one another. Phones were a common tool to accomplish this, outwardly displaying their disinterest in conversing with others without stating it explicitly, while keeping their own attention occupied with something other than their own thoughts. 

However, even if the people’s actions were the same, the tools in their hands were not. The older cellphone models that lacked large touch screens and countless features were everywhere. A strange sight to be had in a city flooded with a constant stream of updated and innovative technology available for public purchase. Yuji pointed out the same disparity existed within their style of clothing and in the music that echoed in the air from businesses, speakers, and performers alike. His brother grew up in this era and knew the trends that accompanied it far better than Choso ever would. 

The implications of the conclusion his brother had come to afterward had yet to settle within him. They had already confirmed Yuji’s suspicions together, and while shameful in his doubt, Choso still found the need to approach a nearby magazine stand and flip through every available thing he could find in search for the one date out of place that would expose this place for the lie for the illusion it truly was. 

Only his search came up empty.

Nothing possessed a date past August 2007.

“Time travel.”

“Time travel?” Choso repeated, unsure if he heard his brother right.

“Exactly. Like in the movies—we’re in the past. The weird phones. The decade-old music. The buildings! The people—It’s the only thing I can come up with.” Yuji pressed his thumb against his forehead, channeling his thoughts into a more coherent order. “We’re in the past… We have to figure out what type of time travel we’re dealing with.”

“Types? There’s more than one kind?”

“Yeah. I mean, I’ve talked about them at length before when watching Back To The Future, but it's all supposed to be theoretical. I never actually thought—Look, there’s three that matter right now. If we’re dealing with a Prisoner of Azkaban or a Future Trunks situation, then it’s not so bad, but if not…”

Choso was sure there was a deeper meaning to his brother’s explanation, but Yuji’s references were lost on him. The confusion he felt must have been apparent, as Yuji took it upon himself to explain further.

“Right. So in the Harry Potter movie, Hermione gets this device—a time-turner—that lets her travel back in time and essentially be in two places at once while her past self does what she already did the first time around. Everything she did was always meant to happen, so messing with time didn’t break anything.” 

Yuji paused, waiting for Choso’s approval to continue, to which he gave a silent nod. The past and the future exist simultaneously in this scenario. But there was no mention of returning to their present.

“The second type is branch theory. In Dragon Ball Z, there is a character named Trunks, and he uses a time machine to travel to the past and prevent someone from dying. Doing that created a new timeline, starting from where he traveled to because his future self never appeared in his own timeline. This prevents a paradox which we really want to avoid.” 

Yuji spun around and continued walking beside him backward, now holding up his two index fingers to represent the two timelines from his example. 

“Trunks can change the future of the new timeline—” His brother bends his left finger. “—But his own timeline remains the same.” As evidenced by the undisturbed right finger.

“And paradoxes are ill-advised.”

“Avoid at all costs.” A large X was formed by Yuji’s arms to emphasize his warning. “Most people agree that they kind of break reality. If this is the third type where everything we do changes our future, then our current selves might not line up with it. If we accidentally make it so that I wear a blue hoodie instead of red, then how could I be wearing red right now? The universe might make us disappear to correct this mistake.”

“All because of your hoodie?”

“The hoodie was an example. Imagine if we change the future so that I never swallow Sukuna’s fingers or that Gojo-sensei never gets…” 

Yuji stopped walking. His silence told Choso more than his words ever could about the new, dangerous thoughts burning through his head. From the little enthusiasm his brother had displayed from speaking in detail about a subject he appeared to show genuine interest in, Choso had prepared for his brother to find impulsive joy in such a possibility. 

Instead, Yuji’s face only drained in color to a concerning degree. He clutched his head, worrying Choso to no end as his brother took in a deep breath and wiped his eyes with the dirt-riddled fabric of his shirt.

“That’s… This can’t be real, right?” Yuji’s prior confidence had left him. “And even if it was, it’s never that easy. Knowing my shitty luck, I’ll just end up making it worse. We shouldn’t screw around here unless we have to.”

“While there is wisdom to be had in your caution, don’t paint yourself in such a negative light.” Choso wondered if Sukuna was to blame for the sudden shift in his attitude. The curse had been silent since Yuji had reclaimed his control over his body, but that was only from the perspective of an outside observer. There was no telling what Sukuna was up to while hidden in a place Choso’s ears couldn’t reach.

“Not even if it’s true?”

Family Mart.

The green and blue sign towered just above the crowd, easily catching Choso’s interest. There didn't appear to be too many people condensed inside the small business, which made the decision to enter and carry out his personal mission there all the easier.

Walking inside wasn’t as much of a problem as Choso prepared for it to be. His outfit, even without the accumulated battle damage, gathered curious eyes wherever he walked through the store. Fortunately, no one dared to approach him, leaving Choso to scan through the displays as he pleased until he found items worth purchasing.

The pre-made sandwiches on display were enticing. It was a toss-up between chicken katsu and tuna mayo, with the former ultimately ending up in Choso’s arms as he continued further in search of additional snacks to provide a balanced meal and something to supplement his brother later. It would be easier to offer one of those nutritional bars than to convince Yuji to stop and eat another meal. While not Choso’s preferred way of doing things, it was better than having his brother refuse to eat at all.

Choso plucked two of the tightly wrapped apples from the nearby end stand, checking for any bruises before settling on taking these for him and his brother to share. Fresh fruit was an obvious choice. The sign above them said that the apples were on sale when bought in pairs, alleviating Choso’s own worry of wasting the remains of his brother’s funds.

Last on Choso’s internal to-do list was to procure Yuji a drink. The coolers lowered the temperature of the air in their aisle significantly. Walking down past them to pick out an appropriately sized water bottle was a pleasant surprise because of this, and if Yuji were in better shape, Choso would have regretted not bringing him along.

He had intended to skip over the liquified sugar drinks that stood between himself and the check-out line, but the large sign labeled ‘ENERGY DRINKS’ above one of the glass doors got Choso’s attention. The cans stacked inside were colorful, bearing promises and rejuvenation and a return of power upon consumption. His first assumption was that humans had somehow managed to store cursed energy in a safe and edible form. Choso found he was completely off-base when he read the label to find caffeine to be the common ingredient amongst these odd concoctions.

Yuji could have one of these as a last resort. 

Strawberry mango sounded appealing enough. 

Upon reaching the register in another moment of weakness, Choso also slipped a chocolate bar into the pile of things he’d accumulated. A small treat never hurt anyone. 

“Whoa, dude, sick cosplay! I didn’t know there was a convention nearby. Are you dressed up as someone from Bleach or something?”

Choso looked up at the young man standing beside his cashier. The girl working the register in front of him showed no signs of interest in their conversation, kicking her coworker underneath the counter out of her personal space—The pained grunt the young man gave was quite telling—so she could perform her job as expected.

Unsure what ‘Bleach’ was, Choso went along with it as he handed his things off to be scanned.

“...Yes?” He hadn’t meant for his answer to hold such uncertainty, but that didn’t appear to bother the young man, as his entire face lit up in glee.

“Awesome! Love the detail work. I’m more of a Naruto fan myself—”

“—Were you able to find everything ok today?” The cashier cut her coworker off, much to Choso’s gratitude as any further discussion would reveal his severe lack of knowledge on whatever the young man was going on about. Her eyes were unable to hide her aggravation, no matter how wide she smiled or how high she raised her voice, but there was no reason to call her out on it. They both wanted to get this transaction over with as quickly as possible.

The rest of the interaction would have gone smoothly, Choso was sure of it, if not for the voices that carried in from outside warning him that the path returning Choso to his brother was about to be more precarious than he’d prepared for. 

“Admit it! You’re lost.” 

An all too familiar voice, unamused with patience wearing thin.

“I’m not lost! In fact, I have Ijichi’s number!”

The voice of a stranger, confident in his apparent foolery.

"You can't just rely on bullying Ijichi to pick you up whenever you—"

The chime of the entrance bell marked not only their arrival well after their shouting had already reached Choso’s ears, but the sudden silence fell over them. He didn’t need to guess the cause, given that any sorcerer’s steps would come to a grinding halt upon stumbling across a cursed spirit when they least expected to. 

While both teenagers remained where they stood, Choso did his best to hide his own shock by holding his body still and free from flinching. This didn’t stop his fingers from locking up nor his muscles burning with anticipation for a fight he was in no place to be getting mixed up in. His eyes perused the candy on display below the register as his ears were left to keep track of potential shifts in their movement.

Why did it have to be them?

“Would you like a bag, sir?”

The cashier’s question broke through the monotonous ringing of her scanner and the overworked hum of the nearby coolers which had temporarily filled in the void left behind by the teenager’s silence. 

“Yes. A bag would be appreciated.” 

Within mere seconds of opening his mouth, two sets of shoes shuffled across the polished floor. One more graceful than the other. One teenager forced the other to stumble at the behest of his unruly companion. 

A quick glance at the mirror hanging over the check-out counter gave Choso a much-needed view of the two now crouched within the front aisle. Unmistakable silver hair paired with iconic circular sunglasses accompanied by a head of black hair tied up in a bun poked over the top of the chip display despite the former’s attempts at dragging them both under to remain out of sight. The hand clutching onto the collar of hair bun’s uniform was torn off, yielding his companion a tired glare as he, too, stared at Choso from afar. 

Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru.

Two men who once stood opposed to one another, now children, huddled together with hands raised over their lips as if that would prevent their whispers from reaching the target of their interest. Their subtly was nonexistent. It was almost laughable if it wasn’t for the cursed energy that radiated off them in droves, sheer strength compensating for their lack of stealth. A powerful deterrent against any mid to lower-level curse. One Choso, despite being classified as a special grade cursed spirit himself, chose to follow as he waited for the cashier to finish bagging his items as any hopes of leaving the timeline unscathed with his and Yuji’s presence diminished before him.

“That’s a curse, right? Tell me I’m not the only one seeing this.” 

“I may not have your eyes, but I’m not blind either. Of course, I see it.” 

“He’s buying food— Food! Since when did curses buy food? I thought they just, you know,” Satoru jerked his thumb across his neck. “Kill people.”

“Considering the curse is holding a conversation, this level of intelligence would be reason enough to deem it a special grade if the power I’m sensing wasn’t reason enough. Its cursed energy is uncharacteristically tame at the moment.”

That was Choso’s intention.

“And one more question. Do you have a membership card?” Choso’s eyes returned to the cashier, keeping a straight face as if those teenagers weren’t whispering behind him.

“No.” He then opened Yuji’s wallet, flipping through bills until he had enough in hand to pay for his things. If Yuji had a membership card, it would be several years too early for the system to acknowledge it. “I believe this should be enough.”

“Suguru, he doesn’t have a membership card. Even I have one—” Satoru’s comment earned him a curled fist planted firmly on the top of his skull. A rather extreme reaction, but something told Choso that this was a regular occurrence for them, as Satoru did little more than growl his frustration. 

“And here’s your change. The receipt is in the bag. Have a good rest of your day, sir.”

Choso collected his things, nodded his head, and returned the pleasantries.

“You as well. Thank you.”

There were only a handful of steps to the exit. Leaving the store with both himself and the surroundings intact was now the primary objective. Escape from their gaze was going to be near impossible given who he was up against, but perhaps a decade’s difference in skill would provide a much-needed handicap if Choso were to make it back to Yuji without further complication. He didn’t, however, delude himself into relying on that possibility to be the case. 

Steeling himself for their inevitable clash, Choso walked with eyes fixated on the door and crossed through the automatic doors back into the heat outside. It was on his third step down the sidewalk did Satoru’s voice precede his sudden appearance, the teenager now obstructing Choso’s path with only a few centimeters between them. 

“Not so fast!”

There was no time to register what the teenager had said, nor comprehend the incredible speed with which he moved. The shift in energy had yet to catch up with Choso’s senses, leaving him floundering as Satoru lifted his finger to poke at his chest.

“Feels like a person… You’re some kind of incarnated curse, right? That’s what my eyes are telling me.” The sunglasses over Satoru’s eyes faltered, sliding down his nose just enough to showcase what he meant by that statement. Another warning. Almost all who live within the Jujutsu world knew of the Six Eyes and why the one possessing them should be feared.

This display however, did not possess its intended effect. Choso already knew the powers he was up against in greater detail than what Satoru anticipated. And while the teenager’s eyes instilled a sense of danger that dug underneath his skin, he expected to witness them. No shock or fear would show itself on Choso’s face, much to Satoru’s disappointment.

“Can’t name which one though… Suguru! You owe me soda!” The little pout on Satoru’s face was short-lived as the smug satisfaction of winning whatever bet they made out of earshot came out on top. 

Following the finger pointed at this companion behind him, Choso took a step back to get both teenagers in his sights. Suguru was flanking him from behind, his appearance stirring unappreciated emotional whiplash that Choso only expressed through the lowering of his eyes, as he couldn’t justify placing his anger on the person whose body was unceremoniously stolen from him. 

The best Choso could do was remind himself of the differences. Suguru wore a school uniform that took the place of the monk robes he’d grown used to. His shorter hair and his younger complexion (the growing bags under his eyes sought to deny this) held no scar to speak of. That was enough to drive away the contempt he felt. It had to be.

“I’m not buying you anything.”

“Come on! The store is right there!”

“And leave you alone with this curse? I’ll come back to the city in shambles.” That was a… unfortunate choice of words. “And stop poking it, you idiot! What are you, five?”

The length of their pause between Suguru’s order and Satoru’s defiant poke led Choso to believe that there was enough thought behind Satoru’s action that labeling it impulsive would be misleading. Reckless was far more suited. Childish worked just as well. In a way, this white-haired teenager reminded Choso of Mahito and his games. While he loathed that patchwork curse for what he’s done to his brother, the prior experience of their interactions appeared to be beneficial in numbing him to Satoru’s tendencies.

For now, at least.

“I would listen to your friend.”

“He speaks to us! What an honor!” 

It was no honor. Satoru’s excitement was out of disrespect, clearly showing no sense of caution or consideration for the consequence that could come about if they were to exchange blows within this crowded street. Was this the same mindset Satoru took with him when he was dispatched to Shibuya in their time? 

Choso hoped it wasn’t so.

“You’re some kind of special grade, huh? Do you have a name?”

As there was no avoiding these two, Choso resigned to conversing with them. He’ll answer their questions, but providing meaningful responses they could work with was too great of a risk. They may have already seen his face, but until he could return to his brother’s side and get a consensus on how to proceed, he was going to refrain from making any rash decisions.

“Yes.”

“Are you gonna share it?”

“No.”

Satoru sighed. 

“Well played. So Mr. Has-A-Name-But-Won’t-Tell-Me, what does a curse like you need…” The teenager’s voice trailed off as he dipped behind Choso to snoop through the bag on his opposing side. “Apples and a sandwich? Oh, thank god there’s chocolate—”

“—They aren’t for me. They are for my brother—” Choso bit down on his tongue as he yanked the bag away from him, transferring it to his other hand to keep Satoru’s curious paws away from Yuji’s things. Just as he declared he would not share such information, this teenager had loosened his lips with remarkably little effort. His casual demeanor was infectious, serving him well in masking the weight behind his prodding.

“Brother? Hear that Suguru? Curses have brothers now! We really do learn something new each day—” Another fist came down on Satoru’s head, harder than the last with his fingers gripping the teenager’s hair and forcing him to bend over as an ashamed look was sent Choso’s way. 

“I apologize for his behavior.”

Satoru pulled himself out from underneath Suguru’s grip, clutching his head as he shouted directly in his ear.

“Why do you keep hitting me!?”

Why do you keep letting him? 

Choso’s knowledge of Satoru’s Limitless had led him to believe the teenager was impervious to harm, but then again, this was Suguru responsible for striking him.

“You’re going to get all these people killed looking for a fight, as you’re doing now. I don’t want to deal with being an accomplice to that. I have enough headaches as it is.” Suguru’s intentions were not as altruistic as they appeared. “What we should be doing is moving this conversation elsewhere and out of sight of these ignorant people so we can exorcize this curse immediately. We could even dare report this to the higher-ups as expected of students and let them deal with it. Not play a game of ‘How can Gojo Satoru make the situation worse for his own entertainment?’”

It was rather bold to speak of killing him so openly, but it was the expected outcome when sorcerers and cursed spirits crossed paths. Choso couldn’t blame him for it, nor would he take offense. If the same words were spoken about his brother, however, he’d have their tongues. The future be damned. 

“I’m not making it worse! If this curse was going to cause a massacre, he’d have done it when he first saw us! Aren’t you the least bit curious about what his deal is?”

“No.”

Satoru inched closer to Suguru, invading every ounce of personal space his companion had as he scrutinized Suguru’s answer. 

“You’re lying!”

“I am not!”

“You are too! I bet you’re so curious—!”

Their argument quickly devolved into a shouting match. The rest of the world, Choso included, meant nothing as they snapped at each other, pressing metaphorical buttons to claim some sort of victory where there wasn’t a need to declare one. It was when Choso realized that this rivalry between them wasn’t going to end as swiftly as he thought it would, did he decide to test just how much of each other’s attention the two occupied. 

One step back was successful, so Choso took a second. And then a third. He merged into the crowd on the fourth, following the flow of traffic until the top of the stairs he’d used earlier were within reach. Leaving the marital spat behind him, Choso broke out into a sprint the second he was out of sight, skipping multiple steps at a time on his descent to reach where he’d left his brother to wait for him. He wasn’t a fool to think he was anywhere close to leaving the pair behind entirely, but Choso was determined to make the most of the precious seconds he’d acquired without their presence to warn his brother of the two after him.

With one last burst of energy, Choso slid underneath the quiet underbelly of the bridge to find his brother right where he’d left him, head fallen over and eyes closed as he’d finally given in to the exhaustion plaguing him. Yuji rarely slept during their time together. It was a shame to continue that trend now, but they just couldn’t afford it.

He bent down on one knee and gently nudged his brother’s shoulder while his other hand lifted his chin. 

“Little brother, it is important that you wake up now.”

“C-Choso…?” Yuji’s eyes fluttered open, his body doing the best it could to allow him to sit up straight on his own. 

“Out of the three scenarios you listed, only one brought immediate disaster. Am I correct?”

“What are you…? Oh. That. I mean, sure?” Yuji’s answer did not bring out the confidence Choso was looking for, but it was not his brother’s fault for dealing with the haze of sleep, begging for his return. “Why? What’s going on?”

“We need to move—” 

Choso’s senses alerted him of the two familiar flares of cursed energy standing above them. It was guaranteed that his and his brother’s positions were compromised, and with a one-third chance of facing immediate repercussions of his brother meeting his sensei years before they were originally meant to, he wasn’t prepared to bet his brother’s life on those odds.

Delaying their meeting further until Yuji could make an informed decision would be the best course of action now. Even if they came from speculative fiction, his brother’s understanding of matters of time exceeded his own.

“Cover your eyes and do not speak until you believe you must.” 

Choso grabbed hold of his brother’s wrists and brought Yuji’s palms over his eyes. He’d hoped the meaning behind his words would explain itself, as the sudden surge of energy by their side concluded their short-lived privacy. 

Satoru and Suguru stood side-by-side on the very edge of the bridge’s shadow, once again catching Choso off guard with the sudden shift in their placement. Albeit not as bad as the first time. The remnants of their argument remained present on Suguru’s face, while his companion shared none of the same frustration. A new spark of interest rose through Satoru’s glee, each new discovery the teenager made about Choso and his brother piquing his interest further than the last, truly ensnaring Satoru’s undivided attention.

Upon dropping to their level, the pair’s eyes moved from Choso to Yuji, assessing the situation between themselves with no effort made to hide their observations.

“Is he…?”

Satoru leaned back and answered Suguru’s question. “He’s something else. Similar, but his energy is off.”

They were talking about Yuji. 

The Six Eyes were not to be fooled. Satoru would figure out that Yuji possesses a curse within him with ease. The name of the cursed spirit may elude the teenager if Sukuna did not surface, but the sheer amount of energy and the malicious presence that followed it would be enough of a hint to get Satoru’s guessing game started. If there was any consolation, it would be that the six eyes must have revealed the difference in how Choso and Sukuna merged with their hosts for Satoru to declare them different. Him being aware of Yuji’s retained sense of self compared to Choso’s complete takeover of his host could prove useful, given that sorcerers tend to be more open to the plight of a human than that of a curse. The piece of Choso that he considered human had come to regret the fate of his vessel, but what was done was done and right now, Choso required full control to maintain his ability to protect his remaining siblings.

Choso returned to his feet, stepping in front of Yuji to place himself in their way as a warning for the teenagers to keep their distance if they didn’t wish to start that fight Suguru showed interest in avoiding. 

Satoru, however, ignored this and stepped forward. 

Choso’s back tensed at the teenager’s advancement. He raised his hands as a final warning but did not engage with him. Not yet.

“Why are you hiding his eyes?” Yuji took in a harsh breath at Satoru’s voice, crisp and unmistakable now that it was so close to his ears. “Are they prettier than mine? You don’t have to spare my feelings if they are.”

Such an inconsequential thing to discuss.

“T-That’s…” It pained Choso to see Yuji’s hands shake, his uneven breaths doing nothing to keep his brother’s mind calm as he was confronted with the specter of the very man he was desperate to save. He could already picture the tears accumulating in his brother’s eyes. A sight Choso did not know if he could bear to witness.

“I believe they are.” Favoritism was not something Choso would apologize for. “I would ask you to leave him be.” I don’t want you to ruin them.

“You see, now I’m just more curious—”

“It’s ok, Choso.” Yuji took in a deep breath, giving his own thoughts room to breathe. Hesitant, Yuji pulled his hands away from the eyes he’d tightly shut underneath. The scars across his face were now in full view as well, bringing about a concern in Satoru for the first time in their encounter. The older teenager went as far as to cast an accusing glare Choso’s way, as if to blame him for his brother’s condition. Unaware of this, Yuji left the ground behind him as he too rose to his feet, using the wall as a support for his back to rest against even now.

Once satisfied with his progress, Yuji turned to Satoru and opened his eyes to look at the teenager properly. A mix of emotions came out at once, leaving his brother with no response that could encapsulate them all. Instead, Yuji turned to the ground almost in shame, lost in what he should say.

“I don’t think mine can compare to yours, Gojo-sen—” Yuji caught himself before completing his sentence. Referring to Satoru as his sensei would only bring about more confusion than there already was.

“Mine are something else, aren’t they?” Satoru beamed, flipping back to his carefree attitude as he accepted Yuji’s recognition of him, remaining aware that it alone did not mean much in the Jujutsu world. But it was a start. “Obviously you know me, but I don’t know you. That is a Jujutsu Tech uniform you’re wearing, and I would know if we got a new student at the Tokyo branch. Especially one with such distinct hair… Suguru! Do you think he’s from the Kyoto school?”

“How would I know?” Suguru did not share in the same joy Satoru displayed, but the concern that flickered over his companion remained with him. Whether it was for Yuji’s well-being, Satoru’s original observation of what the brothers were, or this apparent student’s affiliation with Choso was unknown. “I'm not the one you should be asking. Check for an ID.” 

Yuji glanced at Choso, silently asking for the return of his wallet. Naturally, Choso complied, respecting his brother’s decision. He moved slowly in order to avoid causing alarm among the other two sorcerers observing them, pulling out his brother’s wallet from his pocket and handing it over with ease. 

Finding his school ID was easy. The bent identification card was already partially jutting out of its designated pocket.

“Here.”

Satoru swiped the card from Yuji’s hand and held it up over his head, getting the best angle he could to assess the contents written on it. His eyebrows scrunched together in a matter of seconds, not too fond of what he found. 

“Itadori Yuji… Is this some kind of joke? If you’re going to forge an ID, the least you could do is choose a believable date. 2018? Really?”

“It’s not a forgery. That’s the year I started attending Jujutsu Tech.”

“Yeah, sure, McFly. Cause you traveled back in time to hang out under some bridge in Shibuya. Is your DeLorean parked around the corner?” Satoru rolled his eyes, unwilling to play into what he presumed to be a poorly crafted lie being told directly to his face. But, despite his dismissive attitude, Yuji did not falter. His intent was not to deceive.

“Trust me, if there was a DeLorean, we would have used it to go home by now.”

Satoru blinked.

“You’re not joking.”

“I wouldn’t joke about this, Gojo-sensei.”

“Sensei?”

Both teenagers were stunned, if only for a moment, as Satoru’s laughter and Suguru’s stifled chuckles bounced throughout the man-made echo chamber they all stood within. 

“Me? A teacher? Like Yaga?” Satoru forced himself to speak through his unrestrained wheezing. “Why would I ever want to do that?”

“Even I find that hard to believe.” Suguru’s hand covered his growing smirk as he at least made the attempt to hold his composure. “Who in their right mind would trust Satoru with children?”

Satoru, now gripping his sides while bent over from laughter, yelled back at his companion.

“What? You don’t think I could be a good teacher?”

“Teaching requires patience and responsibility, something you have neither of. Apparently, this ‘Itadori’ failed to consider that when coming up with this drivel.”

Their disrespect was infuriating, but the hand Yuji placed in front of Choso forbade him from acting on it. Instead, he held his tongue and let his brother continue speaking.

“I’m not lying. I don’t know why Gojo-sensei became a teacher, but that’s the truth.”

“Right.” Satoru broke out of his laughing fit, fiddling with the card in his hand as he stepped around Yuji and Choso to give them both a thorough look over. “OK sure, let’s say you and this curse— Who I now know is named Choso! —came from the future together. If you know me so well, then how do I like my coffee?”

“More sugar than coffee. If there are sugar cubes, you pop them back like Tic Tacs while taking shots of the creamer cups.” If this question was meant for Yuji to stumble over, Satoru was sorely mistaken. His brother answered it thoroughly, wiping away their confidence in place of Yuji’s own.

“Bah, my sweet tooth isn’t a secret.” Satoru pointed his finger at Yuji, demanding additional proof. “What’s my favorite Digimon?”

“The white cat with the blue eyes— Gatomon!” 

“Wrong. It’s Agumon.”

“Now you’re the one who is lying! You always thought Agumon was, and I quote, overrated! I sat through a Digimon movie marathon because of you, and you wouldn’t shut up about it. Not to mention you spoiled the ending to over half of them.”

Satoru bit the nail of his thumb, hissing at Yuji’s answer. His companion wasn’t fairing any better, eyeing the two of them with greater uncertainty as these questions went on.

“All this proves is that you’re a very skilled stalker.”

“Are you kidding me?” 

Yuji ran his fingers through his hair, yanking on the messy strands as his patience reached his limit with his body following suit. His right leg gave out from underneath him, causing his brother to fall forward, narrowly avoiding the ground as Choso moved his arms to catch him before any more harm could be done to him. The bag of groceries hanging over the crook of Choso’s elbow hit the ground, but a couple of bruised apples were the least of his concerns.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.”

“That’s a hell of a cursed spirit to have at your beck and call.” It was Suguru who made the comment, earning Yuji’s vexation. His brother picked himself up, fingers still clinging tight to Choso’s sleeve even as he insisted he was able to stand on his own. 

“He’s not at my beck and call. He’s my brother.” If Choso’s heart was alive, it would have skipped a beat. “You don’t have to believe me about who I am or how we know each other. I don’t care anymore! Just— God . If me being here, right now, is going to do any good, then please believe me when I tell you that the whole world is on a fucking countdown to being turned on its head, and we’re all stuck at the center of it. Your Limitless— Red, Blue, Purple —won’t be enough to stop it if you don’t take this seriously!”

Silence fell over them as Satoru stood without a snappy comeback to retort with. The sunglasses the teenager kept loose on the tip of his nose fell off, clattering against the ground while his hands remained limp at his side. Shock wasn’t strong enough to describe the manic expression in his widened eyes.

“I haven’t used that ability since—The only people who know about it are either dead or...” Satoru looked to Suguru for an answer, whispering the rest of his thoughts aloud as he concluded on his own what Yuji’s knowledge meant. “You and Shoko wouldn't have told anyone. Which means I think... he’s telling the truth.”

“For real?”  

All three of Satoru’s observers spoke in unison, Suguru’s skepticism drowned out by the relief flooding through Yuji’s and Choso’s veins. 

“For real.” Satoru bent down to pick up his glasses. “At least about the time-travel. I don’t like how specific those answers were. Let’s start over from the beginning, and I’ll decide if I believe the rest of your story. Sounds good?”

“Yeah. I can agree with that.”

“Then, I must object.” Choso endured his brother’s visible frustration, but he had a good reason for putting their progress on hold. “Yuji needs to eat and rest first. Please allow him time to do so before interrogating him further. You must have plenty of questions, all of which will take some time to answer.”

His brother’s immediate health came first when up against the fate of the world every time.

“Sure! Give him the sandwich you bought. Take a breather. We can move this show to the school’s grounds and take it from there. Our sensei isn’t going to be happy about it, but he doesn’t have to know right away…” 

There was no objection to Satoru's plans from his brother. As dangerous as it was to continue down this path, Choso settled to follow Yuji’s lead as he swore to keep a watchful eye out for any trouble that would surely find its way to them. Each step forward would have to be made with consideration. Not all the answers they could provide would gain favor, with two specific topics leaving Choso much to think about, hoping that he and his brother would find themselves time to agree on what should and shouldn’t be omitted from their tale.

It was rather ironic, given that Jujutsu Tech was their intended destination to begin with. Who knew when setting off earlier today, Choso would arrive with his brother eleven years ahead of schedule? 

Satoru rummaged through his pocket, eagerly whipping out his cell phone with a small shake for everyone to know exactly what it was in a similar— less cautious —fashion to what Choso had done prior with the wallet on his way to returning to Suguru’s side. Donning the shades once more did nothing to hide his shit-eating grin.

“Do you honestly think this is a good idea?”

“What? You’re the one who originally suggested that we move our talk elsewhere. Plus, If Yuji is a student, then it’s not like it’s his first visit to the campus.” Satoru flipped open the device in his hand and began to poke around at the keypad. “I think this counts as a good enough reason to contact Ijichi. Don’t you agree?”

Chapter Text

When Choso denied them further questions, it apparently also included engaging in the awkward small talk expected to fill the air as they waited on their favorite driver to find their location. 

It wasn’t that big of a deal. Really, the sound of crowds jostling the bridge overhead was just what the day needed when Satoru’s own untempered curiosity was threatening to burst with each new question he tacked on to the ever-growing list at the forefront of his mind. 

Time travelers from the future with a warning of impending doom? 

Satoru had seen this trope already on the big screen. On the TV too. Back To The Future. The Terminator. He’d lived in a world consumed by powers wielded by sorcerers and cursed spirits alike that consistently broke the perceived laws of reality and yet, despite being prepared for the eventual moment in which Satoru would experience it firsthand, the novelty had not been lost on him. 

“The whole world is on a fucking countdown to being turned on its head, and we’re all stuck at the center of it. Your Limitless— Red, Blue, Purple —won’t be enough to stop it if you don’t take this seriously!”

A chill broke out along Satoru’s spine just thinking of that boy’s— Yuji’s —words. Satoru’s pulse hasn’t accelerated this fast since his intimate brush with death. The tingle of his fingers was mesmerizing when he pressed the tips together, lost in the absolute wonder of what such a warning could imply. 

The Limitless won’t be enough to stop it? 

Whatever ‘it’ was. Answer pending. 

One half of the pair of cursed techniques that were so intrinsically tied to Satoru’s claim as the strongest to walk the earth and to even dare hint that it wasn’t enough was… Unheard of! He’d dare say impossible if it wasn’t for the sheer amount of resolution behind that pair of honeyed eyes that his brother attempted to hide from him.

But, as painful as it was to acknowledge that there was a very minuscule possibility of being bested, that did not immediately equate to being overpowered by strength alone. Clearly, there was some sort of underhanded work at play. An attack on his mind, perhaps? Satoru was determined to get as many of the juicy details out of the two brothers as he could when Choso was done out-performing a mother hen around his apparent future student. 

Out of all the things Satoru heard so far, being referred to as a teacher— Specifically, Yuji’s teacher —had to be the most shocking when reviewing the contents of their little talk. He’d always suspected the ability to manipulate time and traverse through it had to either exist or very well could exist if he put his mind to it, but him turning to a life of education? The thought never skipped across his mind.

Stifling his manic grin, Satoru looked up from his thoughts to observe the two brothers from the spot in the sun he and Suguru remained in to keep a general eye out for any suspicious activity and signs of their underclassman’s car.

The time-traveling pair had moved away from the pillar the younger had been leaning against to the curb. Both were now resting on the ground with loosely crossed legs and the plastic bag of goods Choso had bought from earlier placed between them. Satoru may not have a basis for what siblings are supposed to act like being an only child himself, but even from the unspoken back and forth between them, he could admit there was a functioning bond between those two. 

After finishing the sandwich thrust upon him, Satoru watched Yuji reach out for the energy drink to wash it down. Choso had reached out as well, mirroring his movements, presumably to assist him, only to hand his brother the bottle of water instead. Yuji made no attempt to argue, but he did release a frustrated sigh before unscrewing the bottle’s lid.

The same thing happened when the younger went to reach for the chocolate bar Satoru had come so close to snatching. A bit sneakier than before, Yuji leaned forward to mess with his shoelace, sliding over when he believed it was safe to grab his prize, only for one of the apples to get rolled over in his hand instead. Again, Yuji didn’t fight Choso for what he wanted, but he did reach around for the second apple and lightly toss it into his older brother’s lap. 

Do curses even need to eat food? Choso had been hellbent on getting Yuji some considering he braved peak pedestrian foot traffic hours to acquire it. Another question for the list.

Yuji’s insistence that Choso join him led to another silent exchange playing out between them, leaving Satoru guessing as to what words were said as the small gestures ended with Yuji taking a bite of his apple with a self-satisfied “Hmph.” 

His older brother begrudgingly did the same. 

If the malignant cursed energy surrounding them wasn’t present through a lens only a sorcerer could make use of, Satoru would have mistaken them as nothing short of human. 

That squabble over the apples was the closest thing Satoru witnessed to amusement on the younger brother’s face. Not even a hint of a smile in sight, despite winning whatever had just transpired. Which Satoru would argue was a shame, given that Yuji had a rather infectious one if his student ID was anything to go by.

Upon realizing that said ID was still within his possession, Satoru pulled out his wallet to compare Yuji’s with his own. 

At a glance, they certainly looked the same. The layout of the card hasn’t been altered over the last decade—coming decade?—with Satoru chalking up slight differences in the text's alignment and photograph to be the work of wear and tear given the poor state the piece of plastic was in. Yuji’s ID photo held the same energy as Haibara's: bursting with positivity and determination— Enthusiasm. That was it. Oddly genuine, compared to the coy and mischievous smirks that came with anyone who deviated from the gloom and doom looks that made up most of the photos Satoru had come across. 

The scars across Yuji’s face were absent from the photo, which meant he accumulated them after. Except for the two slits below his eyes. Satoru couldn’t tell if they were birthmarks or tattoos, avoiding the thought of considering them scars as the symmetry indicated a purposeful reason for them being there. Maybe that had something to do with his cursed technique?

Besides the aforementioned issue date he’d mentioned aloud earlier, the only thing he found suspect on Yuji’s identification card was the empty slot where his sorcerer grade should be. The strength and ability of new students are graded upon entry, either through an entrance exam prior to enrollment or through an assessment upon arrival. Satoru chose to assume that a fair amount of time had passed between the time the photo was taken and Yuji’s current state, so the blank space made little sense… If Yuji was accepted as a sorcerer.

“Do you honestly believe they are from the future?”

Suguru’s question pulled Satoru away from the plastic in his hand.

“Sure. Why not?” He slipped Yuji’s ID card next to his own before snapping his wallet shut. “Live a little. It’s not every day that time travelers from the future show up and warn you of impending doom.”

“But the future? Really?” The eyebrow free from Suguru’s bangs raised along with his disbelief. “You said it yourself. He could just be a very talented stalker.”

“I did say that, but…” Satoru mused, keeping their conversation out of earshot of the two brothers. “If I was being stalked, especially last year during the whole, you know—Don’t you think I would have picked up on their cursed energy by now?”

“Yes, you would. But that doesn’t mean that time travel is the only alternative.”

Satoru sauntered over to the tree a couple of meters from their spot, with Suguru trailing behind him. Refuge from the sun was found under its densely packed branches. In contrast to Satoru’s immediate desire to flop against the tree’s base, Suguru remained vigilant on his feet.

“Then you explain why Yuji knew how easily I spoil movie endings. I don’t even do it on purpose… most of the time.”

“That’s not —And again with Yuji? You’ve already resigned to acting so familair with it.” His friend’s insistence on calling the pair before them ‘its’ was beginning to grate on Satoru’s nerves. He couldn’t point to why Suguru’s words struck such a chord with him, but it felt wrong hearing Suguru speak that way. "They're curses. At least pretend to acknowledge that.”

“Jealous that I'm being buddy-buddy with someone else?” The tease was meant to alleviate the tension Satoru felt, but his mouth kept running to hammer in how he viewed their future visitor. “He’s my student. I’ll call him whatever I want."

“Of course you will.” 

Bitterness laced Suguru’s voice. Its presence wasn’t new to Satoru, he couldn’t truly say when he picked up the added bite to Suguru’s words, but he’d gotten too used to hearing it alongside the perpetual exhaustion that had wrapped and tangled itself around his friend.

Satoru wanted to blame the job they shared. One mission after another with little time to rest in between, let alone cross paths in hopes of the slightest chance both of them would have the time to sit down and catch up after weeks turned into months of radio silence. Today was the first day in a long line of quiet, uneventful days that Satoru had been able to indulge in the free time he’d been oh so generously given to spend it with his friend to screw around and do whatever they pleased. Attending the festival season was just that. Just something to combat all this accumulated stress and yank the stick that had been shoved up Suguru’s ass. Anything to go back to how it used to be. If only for just a few hours.

Apparently, fate, or rather, the total disregard for it, had other plans.

“If it means anything— Which I am one-hundred percent sure it does! —when I suggested we ‘wander around Shibuya until we find something interesting to check out,’ I was hoping to try some festival food, show off some dance moves, get our ears blasted out by music. Not—” Satoru waved both hands in the air, gesturing to the scene before them. “—This.”

With his focus on one of his dominated curses circling overhead which acted as both beacon and lookout for their little group, Suguru hummed. The one-eyed bird gave a guttural screech, meaning nothing of importance if his friend’s non-reaction was anything to go by. 

“I believe you.”

“Good. I’m glad we’re on the same page. We don’t want people to think I’m going out of my way to find cases on my day off. They might think I actually like working.”

“And we can’t have that. Imagine what an assumption like that would do to that stellar reputation of yours.”

“Exactly.” Satoru waved a finger in Suguru’s direction, forcing his friend’s eyes on him again. “See, you’re the only one who gets it!”

A repressed cough— No. A chuckle!— rose from Suguru’s throat. While short and barely audible, but the slight curl at the edges of his friend’s lips were all that Satoru needed as proof he’d pulled Suguru out of that stuffy head of his. However, Satoru’s declaration of victory was made in haste, the spark of amusement fading just as fast as it appeared, marking the return of Suguru’s uneasy contemplation.

Not about to leave him alone to brood, Satoru kicked the back of Suguru’s foot with the sole of his shoe.

“Wanna share what’s festering in that overworked brain with the rest of the class?”

The expression Satoru received from Suguru was somewhere between “Absolutely not.” and “I don’t have a choice, do I?” thus earning his friend a smirk, forcing Suguru to concede to Satoru’s pestering.

“It’s what that— Itadori said. I don’t understand how you can remain so carefree after such a foreboding warning. If what those two are claiming is true, then what sort of mess is awaiting us? If all this is an elaborate lie, then what manner of trouble are you bringing back to the school? We’re already short on sorcerers as it is. We don’t need to be accessories to some grander scheme that seeks to use us as pawns.”

“Ah.”

“Now do you understand why I have every reason to be suspicious?”

“What I understand is that my dearest friend has such little faith in us.” Satoru jumped to his feet to join Suguru’s side. He placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder as he worked to set his mind at ease. “Lie or not, we’re the strongest. If they try to pull anything, we’ll be able to handle it in our sleep. So there’s no use worrying about that crap, ok? It’s a waste of brainpower.”

“You—”

“Is that Ijichi’s car I see?” 

Satoru turned Suguru’s face with his hand, squishing his cheeks together and cutting off his friend’s response to make sure of the sight of the black company car approaching them. The third blow to Satoru’s head was received because of this, not nearly with as much force as the previous two, as Suguru’s aim was to pry him off his face first and foremost.

“—Ass!” Suguru hissed, his hands rubbing the side of his face as if Satoru had actually managed to cause him pain. “He’s certainly here faster than I anticipated.”

“Reliable underclassmen are the best, aren’t they?”

Neither teenager bothered to wait on the side of the road for Ijichi to pull up, opting to step onto the pavement and meet the car in the middle of the street as there was no traffic in sight. Which was… unusual given that they were in the city during one of the busiest times of the year. Satoru hadn’t noticed it until the arriving car appeared so out of place, but it must be due to this being a blocked-off street over anything else. 

That probably had something to do with the Ijichi’s ghastly look on the other side of his slowly descending window. 

“Ijichi!”

“Do you know how hard it is to drive in the city during this season? Half the roads are cut off and the traffic beyond saving. Not to mention the excuse I had to give in order to use the school’s car in the first place—I'm going to be in so much trouble if we're caught!” Their junior whined as he fixed his glasses into place, looking to Suguru for support in dealing with the superior upperclassman in front of him. So what if Ijichi couldn't 'technically' drive any of the Jujutsu Tech's cars outside of school grounds? No one is going to get into any trouble so long as everyone present keeps their mouths shut!

“And you are a lifesaver for doing so! Now all we need is to collect our new friends…” 

Satoru turned his sights to the bridge, delighted to find Choso and Yuji had already got on their feet. The new arrival was a distraction neither had taken advantage of to disappear on them. Perfect. Satoru hated to be proved wrong about his judgment calls.

Choso led Yuji toward them, keeping a worried hand out as if his brother were to fall at the slightest shift in the wind. But Yuji paid it no mind. His eyes were on Ijichi, harboring a sense of familiarity that he worked to hide as the pair grew closer.

It was to be expected. If Yuji knew future Satoru, he had to know future Ijichi as well. Who else did he know? And more importantly, what dirty secrets does he have to blackmail the present with?

“Who are—Am I sensing things correctly? T-The older one feels like a—”

“Yup! Weird, right? Pretty sure he won’t bite.” He followed his answer with zero elaboration, preferring to delve straight into introductions. “Ijichi, this is Choso and his little bro Yuji. He’s our… new transfer student! Sure, we’ll go with that. Everything is a bit complicated right now, but we really need that ride back to the school, so…”

Their much-needed driver gulped as he raised a hand to wave at the two, receiving the same awkward hand in return. It took Suguru’s silent nod to cement Satoru’s words as fact in the underclassman’s head. Keeping the whole bit about time travel and the doomed future of tomorrow was going to remain between as few people as possible until they had an exact handle on what they were dealing with.

“Please tell me you’re not responsible for his current state.” Ijichi was specifically referring to Yuji, who, admittedly, looked a bit worse for wear. Especially as a first impression.

“Me? Responsible?” Satoru was offended. “Just who do you think I am?”

“Gojo Satoru.” Both Suguru and Ijichi responded in unison, using his name as if that was supposed to prove their point. 

“Thank you for your assistance. And while I do not understand why he specified biting, I promise to withhold from violence while in your vehicle.” Choso had used the opportunity to give his thanks, going so far as to offer a slight bow alongside it. His brother then added his own quiet thanks to follow.

“Thank you, sir.” The ‘sir’ had been unconsciously tacked on, appearing overly informal given both Yuji and Ijichi appeared to be around the same age. Even if poor Ijichi was already showing hints of wrinkles on his forehead.

“Um… You’re welcome?”

“Cool!” Satoru clapped his hands, putting the awkward exchange to rest. “Time to get this show on the road! I call shotgun—”

Much to Satoru’s dismay, by the time he moved to claim his prize, Suguru had already opened the front passenger side door and got comfortable. Not an ounce of mercy in sight. 

“I’ll move my seat up for you.”

“How considerate.” Satoru mocked as he slammed Suguru’s door shut on the way to reaching for his own. The loud cry that followed from the driver’s seat suggested he may have put a bit too much force into his arm, but nothing fell off or shattered on impact, so Ijichi must be overreacting.

Amusingly, Satoru wasn’t the only one disputing their seating arrangements. Choso had wished for Yuji to take the window seat, effectively acting as a barrier between his brother and the sorcerer sharing the backseat with them. Yuji, being the shortest of the trio, argued he was being unreasonable, and dove into the car the moment his older brother opened the back door, leaving just as much room to debate on the matter as Suguru did.

The three ended up a bit cramped regardless, which was all Satoru needed as an excuse to prop his foot up against the back of Suguru’s seat and press against it whenever the awkward silence was too boring to put up with. He’d prepared to use his Limitless to keep his and Yuji’s bodies from getting scrunched together, but it was not needed. The younger teenager— Satoru assumed he was younger given his student ID marked him as a first-year, while Satoru was on his third —had taken to curling up against his brother. Yuji had avoided doing so at first, sitting straight in his seat and appearing to focus on the road ahead of them. But his own exhaustion betrayed him, and now his head had fallen against Choso’s arm with not a single complaint on his brother’s part. If it wasn’t for the slow rise and fall of Yuji’s chest, Satoru would have thought the boy had died or something, given he hadn’t made a single peep since he closed his eyes. 

Satoru grew tired just by looking at him.

Overall, the drive had been uneventful. No amount of conversation about the weather or whatever sports game Satoru didn’t watch could remove the tension in the air. Tension that lingered with the extended drive, as their driver hadn’t lied about the traffic which only grew worse as the afternoon progressed. Poor Ijichi clenched his hands on the steering wheel for dear life as he pretended to be ok with the occupants of his back seat and Suguru hadn’t stopped glaring at Choso through the mirror, only deviating from the cursed spirit to Satoru when the latter kicked his seat to make him lose their staring contest. 

The only thing of note that caught Satoru’s attention happened when they grew close to the school. Yuji stirred in his seat for the first time, his fingers grasping the sleeve of his brother’s shirt while the rest of him remained motionless beside him. Satoru averted his eyes in favor of the window, observing their reflection as Choso leaned down to whisper concern in Yuji’s ear. While the boy hid his mouth underneath the collar of his hoodie, his faint mumbling was just audible enough for Satoru’s ears to pick up.

“Dun worry. ’m ignorin’ him.”

Him.

Who was ‘him’ supposed to be? Suguru had let up on his staring some time ago and Satoru hadn’t believed he’d done anything to be a bother—to Yuji at least—which begged his initial question.

His Six Eyes had already informed him of the secondary presence inside Yuji. The swell of cursed energy that simultaneously did not belong, yet fit into his form as if it was always meant to be. Satoru could easily assume that Yuji was just like his brother, a curse incarnated into a human host, but there was more to it than that. His energy felt ancient in comparison. Yet, as quickly as Satoru was to conclude that it was Yuji’s, it was still separate enough from him to consider seeing it as its own entity entirely. Two pieces sat side-by-side, existing in the same body with neither showing signs of degradation.

Was the boy a cursed spirit like his brother, or a sorcerer like Satoru?

Whatever was going on with Yuji, Satoru would bet money that this ‘him’ had something to do with it. Hopefully, he wouldn’t have to wait long to confirm it. 

“W-We’re here!” Ijichi stuttered over the engine, pulling up as close to the entrance as possible. There were no signs of anyone else close by, with Satoru’s eyes confirming that they were the only ones present in this area of the campus, which worked well in their favor.

With a simple nudge, Yuji was shaken out of his daze. He followed Choso’s lead in exiting the vehicle, who had only moved to do so when Suguru and Satoru opened their doors.

However, as the rest of the group piled out of Ijichi’s car, Satoru remained standing by his seat with both arms resting on the top of the car door. 

“Aren’t you going to join us, Satoru?”

Satoru motioned for Suguru to go on without him.

“Ijichi and I need to catch up. I haven’t been on campus in what, three weeks? You go on ahead without me. I’ll be there in a few minutes. Let's have our new friends stay in the school’s guest house. I doubt anyone’s using it right now.”

“The guest house? Are you sure that’s wise?”

“Where else do you want to put them? The dorms? Let me just hide them in my room, and we’ll see how that goes. I bet Nanami would appreciate that when he gets back!” From the edge of Satoru’s glasses, he witnessed a not-so-subtle flinch from Yuji at the sound of his underclassman’s name. The younger teenager wasn’t facing him, but there was little doubt that Yuji knew who Satoru was speaking of. The temptation to change his mind for the sake of seeing what would happen if those two were to meet was hard to ignore, but Suguru responded before Satoru could change his mind.

“I see your point. The guest house is farther from the rest of the buildings anyway, which will be useful until we inform sensei of… their arrival.” Suguru was careful in choosing his words in front of Ijichi. He then leaned into Satoru’s ear to whisper the rest of his concern. “You’re putting a lot of faith in them not to act against us while you’re not there.”

“No, I’m putting a lot of faith in you. Now, shoo! Yuji looks like he’s on the verge of collapsing.”

“Then his curse can carry him.” His friend pulled away from Satoru and shook his head, taking the lead in guiding the pair through the campus despite the obvious reluctance to do so.

Satoru waited until the trio was out of sight before taking Suguru’s place in the front passenger seat, smirking under his glasses at Ijichi tapping his fingers on the wheel in anticipation for whatever his upperclassman was about to ask of him. 

“I need you to do your favorite senpai one more favor—Make it two, given that the first one isn’t all too hard.”

“Ok?” Ijichi was hesitant, but he really wasn’t in the position to refuse him.

“One.” Satoru held a finger in the air between them. “Let’s keep Yuji and his brother’s arrival between us. It’s complicated. And you know how rumors spread…” 

With his other hand, Satoru fumbled around in his seat until he could get a hold of his wallet.

“Two.” Naturally, two fingers were now on display. “I need to see if you can run a background check on a kid for me. Where he lives, family history—The whole package. His name is Itadori Yuji. Possible relation to our Yuji.” If the pair were time travelers from the future, then Yuji’s younger self might be worth looking into, either as additional proof of their claim or to provide further insight into who Satoru was dealing with.

“I could do that. But, is a name all you have? You’re better off—How does the phrase go? Finding a needle in a haystack.”

“Well, if we’re talking about me, specifically, we both know that’s probably true. Here, I have his birthdate. Let’s see…” Satoru flipped open his wallet and read the date on Yuji’s school ID aloud. “March 20th. 2003. Going to assume he was born here in Japan. He’ll probably have brown eyes. Don’t quite know if the pink hair is dyed just yet… Bah, I’m sure you’ll figure this out. You are training to be an assistant, right? Think of this as a… Learning experience! An opportunity to get some practice in!”

The thumbs up Satoru gave did not instill the burst of confidence that he had hoped in Ijichi, but he wasn’t seeing any visible rejection of his request either.

“I’ll need to write this down… When do you need this information by?”

“The sooner, the better.”

“I-I will see what I can do. But I can’t make any promises!” Ijichi reached over him to pull a notebook and pen out from the vehicle’s glove compartment, jotting down a few quick notes before coming to an abrupt stop. He then lifted his head to address Satoru one more time before the older teenager could take his leave. 

“Please promise me you won’t drag me further into whatever this is after this. I have an exam this week and can’t take the added stress.”

“Nope!” 

Satoru waved goodbye as he sprinted Suguru and the others. In a moment of pity, he turned around just before he crossed the toril gate at the edge of the campus proper to shout one last thing Ijichi’s way.

“I’ll be sure to try though!”

With any luck, he’d hear from Ijichi sometime in the morning. 

For now, Satoru was faced with the beginnings of evening, which managed to settle in when none of them were looking. While the sun was still high in the sky and the shadows had yet to extend across the entrance path in full, the feeling of his body pushing him to slow down and wrap up his day arrived ahead of schedule. Rather poor timing, given that there was still so much to do— So much to talk about! —before Satoru could even consider retiring for the day. 

Who was he kidding? With everything going on, there was a snowball’s chance in hell that he was going to get even a wink of sleep tonight. Things were far too interesting to waste his precious time sleeping.

Smiling at the prospect of answers awaiting him, Satoru skipped along after the trio he’s sent ahead until he was greeted by the image of Suguru, sitting on the guest house entrance steps all by his lonesome. The brothers were inside—Satoru could see their cursed energy clear as day—and with no visible damage to the building or Suguru’s clothes, there had been no battle to the death while he was away. No fire. No cracks in the earth or judgment raining from above. Just a quiet building, proving once again that he made the right call. 

“Look at that! You survived!”

“I don’t want to hear it. And keep your voice down or the whole point of us sneaking them in here would have been for nothing.” Suguru scolded, with not nearly the same energy as Satoru had. 

“Someone’s in a bad mood.” Or would it be considered a worse mood? Satoru twirled around when he reached the steps to join Suguru’s side, curious to know what had happened in his absence to set his friend off. “What’d I miss? You good?”

“I’m good.” 

The dismissal of Satoru’s concern lasted only for a few seconds under his stare before Suguru took in a breath and elaborated. 

“Your ‘student’ passed out again the moment it— Itadori hit the bed. The other one won’t sleep, taking to the younger one’s beside instead. They are in the first room on the left.” Suguru paused. “I don’t believe they like me all that much. Itadori is not as good at hiding disdain as the older curse, who at least has the guise of its overprotective nature as an excuse.”

A total mystery. One that couldn’t be in any relation to the way Suguru has been referring to them as ‘its’ this entire time. 

For once, Satoru kept his sarcasm to himself, knowing full well what bothered Suguru about the brother’s attitude towards him was not the obvious way both sides have been interacting, but the potential history they shared. 

“Don’t let them get under your skin. You probably gave Yuji shit grades in class, and he’s holding it against the cooler young version of you.”

“You think that I’m a teacher in their supposed future as well?”

“Obviously. Why else would I do something so boring?” Satoru stretched his arms to let out an exaggerated yawn. “It’s your fault. You must have infected me with some philosophical bullshit about the importance of education and our duty to pass down knowledge to future generations, blah blah blah. ‘It’s our duty as the strongest, Satoru!’ God, you must still give the most insufferable lectures.”

Suguru rolled his eyes at his friend’s low-effort impression of his voice. 

“That theory of yours implies that you actually listen to me in the future.”

“I know. Awful, isn’t it? Future me must have lost it in old age.”

“Old age!?” His friend’s face fell into his palm. “Satoru, you’d be what, twenty-seven? Twenty-eight?”

“Yup. Completely senile. One foot already in the grave—”

“You shouldn’t joke about that.” Suguru cut him off, the heavy weight of his tone ushering the immediate end to the discussion. And Satoru didn’t have it in him to object.

“Moving on. I’m gonna head inside and poke the older brother some more. Do you want to come with or track down Shoko?”

Suguru looked at him with confusion. 

“Shoko? I thought we were trying to keep this a secret.”

“We are! But it’s Shoko! She’ll have our heads if we keep it from her.” Just saying it aloud prompted Satoru to grab the back of his neck, despite knowing there was no way she could pose a physical threat to him. “And she might as well give Yuji a once over to make sure he isn’t dying or something.”

“I thought Itadori was a curse. Curses can heal themselves.”

“That’s the thing. He’s not a curse. It’s possession, but not a full takeover if I’m reading it right. A human possessed by a curse, unlike his brother, who is a curse possessing a human. Which might be why he has all these human needs.” Satoru let out a groan as he pushed himself off the steps and back to his feet. “This is why I’m gonna go bother Choso. The least he can do is explain what the two of them are while we let his brother rest up.”

“As impossible as such a feat sounds, I guess such partial possession would explain why the school would take Itadori in… I have to wonder if Choso’s proclaimed familial loyalty is to Itadori, or the curse inside?” 

“I’ll be sure to ask him.”

Suguru joined Satoru on his feet, brushing away the hints of dirt on his pants. “Then I’ll go track Shoko down. Let’s hope she’s not already caught up in something. Some time alone will help me clear my head. Catch us up when we return, will you?”

“Sure thing.” The pair split in opposite directions. “Don’t think too hard while you’re alone. You’ll just give yourself a headache.”

From the bottom of the stairs, Suguru let out a single laugh. “You only say that because you hardly think at all.”

“Smartass.” 

The insult held no weight or meaning behind it, something Suguru was very much aware of. His friend didn’t bite back, walking the rest of the way in the silence he was after.

Now left to his own devices, Satoru took the opportunity to dash inside and stick his head through the open door to the brother’s temporary room. Just as Suguru said, Choso was sitting on a chair next to his brother’s bed with arms crossed and attention on Yuji, who appeared to be completely knocked out for the day. The sheets the younger had fallen on were pulled out as much as they could be from underneath him to cover him, which must have been the work of his older brother. 

Leaning on the door frame, Satoru knocked on the wood over his head to make his presence known. 

“How’s he holding up? Not dying, I hope.”

“Better. Your generous accommodations are appreciated.” Choso’s answer stopped there, leaving Satoru to be the one to push for their conversation to continue. He waited in silence a bit longer, staring at nothing in particular until the curse took the hint he wanted something more from him. “Is there something else you wish to ask? I believe we agreed to wait until Yuji has recovered.”

“You’re right, we totally did. But it’s not about the future, just you two specifically. I need some clarification on a few things.” 

The look on Choso’s face was an unwilling one. His eyes darted to his brother as he pondered his answer.

“We can talk in the common room if you don’t want to risk waking him up,” Satoru added the suggestion as an extra incentive to get him to agree. “And you technically owe me for the appreciable accommodations.” 

“That is… fair. You may ask your questions, but I can’t guarantee an answer for all of them.”

“I can work with that!” Satoru smiled at the success. “This way.”

As the two departed from the room, Choso insisted on leaving the door open in case Yuji called for him, to which there was no complaint from Satoru. The common room they moved to was more akin to a small kitchen, absent of any real cooking supplies or food for that matter, with a small table and some chairs acting as the only thing notable about the place. Satoru had never actually been inside the guest house before, and now that he could check it off his list of sights to see at Jujutsu Tech, he wasn’t all that impressed.

Taking the initiative, Satoru pulled out a chair for himself and placed his feet on the table, his elbows resting on the back of the chair to allow his hands to comfortably support his head. Choso took this as an invitation to join him by taking the closest seat to the hallway entrance. The curse was stiffer in his seat in comparison, and Satoru expected he’d find him glancing in Yuji’s direction from time to time as he had the perfect view to do so.

Overprotective was not enough to describe what Satoru was witnessing. Choso was going to give Satoru’s childhood caretakers a run for their money.

How did Yuji put up with this guy?

“So, who’s your brother’s roommate?”

The curse blinked.

“Excuse me?”

“You know, the curse possessing your little bro. I’ve been assuming that Yuji is the name of the body and the one who’s in control. Which, if I’m right— And obviously I am —is something I’ve never heard of before. It wouldn’t be the first new thing I’ve seen today, given curses don’t talk and act all human like you do. So, if you could fill me in on whose tagging along—”

“No.”

“No?”

“No. I believe he should be the one to share with you the curse’s name. It would be better that way.” Choso did as Satoru expected and turned down the hall. He closed his eyes before adding more to his answer. “You are right about Yuji being in control.”

“It’s that bad, huh?” Satoru swore at his inability to pay attention to Yaga’s lectures. Old powerful curses meant special grade which had names attached to them. There was one on the tip of his tongue, taunting him as he failed to reach it. “Sure. Fine, whatever. I can wait for Yuji. But answer me this: Who’s the one you pledged your loyalty to? The curse or one possessed by the curse?”

“Make no mistake. That curse is no brother of mine.”  

There was venom in those words. Choso did not take kindly to even the insinuation of being related to the mysterious curse inside Yuji, which made their whole dynamic all the more intriguing. If Satoru was a lesser sorcerer, he might have actually been intimidated by him.

Satoru put a hand up in surrender.

“I believe you.” For now. “Let’s move on to you, then. Which all-powerful cursed spirit are you supposed to be? You see, we have a list of registered special grade curses we keep track of, and you don’t fit the bill for any of the ones I bothered to remember. That’s where the confusion comes in.”

“I wouldn’t go far as to claim to be all-powerful, but the label of special grade accurately fits my abilities.” The boast of power appeared unintentional, lacking in the smug ego Satoru would normally use to say such things. “I see no harm in revealing the truth to you as my little brother has decided to speak with you about the future we come from and therefore, just being here with you now must have its own changes associated with it. To answer your question, I am the eldest of ten siblings. Both human and curse, though I can’t say with any certainty what percentage of each makes up what I am. Your society of sorcerers refers to myself and my siblings as Death Paintings, the wombs of which are currently stored in your school’s warehouse.”

Death Paintings? Satoru pushed against the edge of the table with his feet to lean back on the back pegs of his chair. The ceiling was good enough to stare as he thought through Choso’s explanation. Both cursed spirit and human… Where did he hear that before—

Satoru snapped his fingers.

“The great stain of the Kamo clan! How could I forget?” 

Some gossip never died between the three families. Every clan had histories they did everything in their power to deny or sweep under the rug to save face in front of Jujutsu society, but nothing in the last two hundred years could compare to the creation of the Death Paintings. Kamo Noritoshi and his heinous experiments… It was the scandal of the century!

The Death Paintings were classified as cursed objects and stored in the school warehouse as Choso said. Guarded by Tengen’s barrier. There was no easy way to access such a place, but Choso’s presence here left Satoru to conclude that between now and the future Yuji and Choso came from, at least one Death Painting was released from confinement. Not only that, but the power of the Death Painting once incarnated proved to be that of a special grade. Did the entire set have the same potential? Or was Choso unique in that regard? And speaking of the set…

There were only nine Death Paintings, not ten. Yuji was different from Choso, making him the outlier. Logic dictates the younger teenager wasn’t a part of the original nine, yet the one responsible for their creation lived and died over a hundred years ago?

Where did the claim of brotherhood come from?

“You said ten siblings? You’re including Yuji in that number.”

“I am. He is the youngest of our family.”

“And is he a Death Painting too?”

“He…” Choso stopped to think again. “I don’t believe he is like us. His situation is… complicated. He was born and raised as a human in your era, with the notable difference from his peers being his physical strength. Even without the use of cursed energy, my little brother is strong.”

“Ok.” Satoru pushed himself to make sense of it all. “This sounds like some shitty long-lost brother soap opera crap, but I’ll go with it. Choso: Death Painting and son of Kamo Noritoshi, which makes you a Kamo as well. That makes sense. Yuji: Not Quite the same, born over a hundred years after you, and somehow you're both siblings? That doesn’t make sense. Even if Kamo survived the assassination that did him in all those years ago, humans don’t live that long.”

“But one does through the succession of possessing one body after another. The same sorcerer responsible for being my father is the same one who brought Yuji into this world centuries later. A truly despicable monster, rivaling even the most powerful of curses for his callousness in the wake of his goals. Noritoshi Kamo is only one of dozens, if not hundreds, of identities he’s assumed over his stolen lifetimes. And out of all those faces he’s taken, I’ve only been made aware of two of them by name.”

“Possession.” Satoru echoed under his breath. That was… not the explanation he was expecting. “Like Invasion Of The Body Snatchers or The Exorcist?”

“I don’t know what either of those are.”

“Seriously? Those are classics—Your brother better know those movies. Because if not, then future me has failed him as a teacher!”

“I wouldn’t say that. From what I’ve come to understand in our short time together, his reasoning for holding you in such high regard is not for your power alone.”

A bit of pride swelled up in Satoru’s chest. Of course, Yuji would be fond of him! He was the cool teacher who hosted Digimon movie marathons and since Yuji cared enough to remember his favorite one, they had to get along to some degree. It was almost unsettling to have another person know so much more about him than what Satoru could say in return. Almost. For now, he’ll pretend to call it fun.

“A short time?” That didn’t seem right. Not with those two.

“I’ve known of him for a little over a month now. We only met face-to-face for the first time a handful of days ago. That was also when we both became aware of our shared connection.”

“Wow. With how you both act, I could believe you’ve been doing the overprotective brother shtick his whole life.”

Choso lowered his head.

“If it had been possible, I would have. Now all I can do is make up for lost time and my own failure in not seeing our connection sooner.” Was Choso blaming himself for being locked away? It’s not like it was his fault, considering he was never given a chance to live a human life until, presumably, recently.

Those were… heavy emotions Satoru wasn’t prepared to deal with at the moment. Or probably ever. Family was not his strong suit.

“Back to Fake Kamo. Is Yuji’s dad the other name you know him by? Is he possessed right now? In our time?” Satoru thought back to the request he made to Ijichi, his nerves shaking at the idea of locating some ancient sorcerer he’d be more than happy to get rid of and do the world a favor.

“I do not know the names of my little brother’s parents. Nor if… Fake Kamo is still in possession of one of their bodies or if he took another before we met upon my awakening. I will have to ask my little brother what he knows when he’s able to join us. A line of visible stitching across the forehead of his victim is what to look for.” 

Fake Kamo was involved with the Choso’s emergence. Also, stitching across the forehead? Was there some type of brain transplant involved—Gross. Kinda cool, but still very gross.

“So, who is he now then? I mean, in your time. God, this is confusing—”

The legs of Choso’s chair screeched against the kitchen floor as he stood. The sound drowned out Satoru’s voice, the curse— Half-curse? —no longer interested in speaking.

“I wish to return to my brother’s side.”

Satoru was not satisfied with letting their conversation end there, but Choso had already left the room. His sudden bid for silence told Satoru more than he wished to reveal, and now Satoru was alone with his answer.

The only reason to refrain from answering his question after all that sharing would be if Fake Kamo was… someone Satoru must already know. 

Which was ridiculous. Body snatching? Ancient sorcerers? Really? Now Satoru knew why Suguru was so skeptical. It all sounded like a pile of bullshit!

But… not impossible.

While Satoru would deny this as he sat alone in that kitchen with nothing more than his rhythmic swaying to keep his thoughts company, for the first time that day, unwelcome dread weaseled its way into the teenager’s mind.

“The future sucks.”

Chapter Text

The echo of footsteps along the empty courtyard could not sway Suguru into believing that they were anyone’s but his own. A single set, one step after another in tandem with his movements, delayed by the shortest of windows to create an illusion that someone else was following along behind him. With the breeze absent, the only sound that remained was deafening to Suguru’s ears, cutting into each thought as he worked through just how the day got away from him. To be dragged along by Satoru’s whims was one thing, but to fall into the intrigues of curses from the future, of all the places to claim to be from, was another matter entirely.

Suguru supposed, if anything good had come of this, it would be that he was no longer subjected to the hoard of bodies choking the air out of Shibuya Station. How contradictory of him, to loathe the countless days— weeks —he’d been left to his own devices— left alone —that the first opportunity he had to spend time with Satoru— never around —did Suguru discover his intense hatred for loud, obnoxious crowds. Even Satoru’s natural penchant for demanding his place at the center of attention could not draw Suguru’s mind away from the sheer volume Satoru had to compete with. 

Indulging Satoru’s whims should have been worth the assault on Suguru’s patience. For one day, the clock could in all its callous nature, should have found pity within its mechanical heart to at least grant Suguru the ability to pretend nothing had changed between them. Satoru denied such change, so why couldn’t he?

But then, of course, something had to go awry.

It was not Suguru to whom the clock ticked backward, but two others— two curses —who claimed to be from eleven years in the future as if his wish was not that of fantasy.

To believe such lofty claims from a cursed spirit of all things masquerading as human… How could Suguru believe anything that came from their mouths when the very existence of all curses was rooted in the negative emotions of those monkeys? Their very existence is that of discord and suffering. Negativity that lasted beyond its progenitor to create creatures which turn on them to feast.

To trust either cursed spirit’s claim at face value without first searching for the hidden strings out for their necks would be moronic.

Suguru moved with one eye over his shoulder, glancing back as much as he felt was necessary to keep the two brothers—if that is what they wished to call their bond—behind him from believing they could do anything else but follow his instructions. The curses under Suguru’s command lie in wait within the energy swirling around him as a preemptive warning, appearing as nothing more than flickering apparitions, poked out from his shadow upon taking the first step of this short, but troublesome escort. 

“This way.”

Suguru’s curses then vanished from sight, but not from their minds. 

The older curse, Choso, acted as expected and placed itself between Suguru and the younger. A shield, a wall of separation that maintained its orientation along each turn of the path Suguru led them down as required. 

In the short time Suguru had spent observing the pair, he’d pegged the dynamic as that of a master and his loyal servant. A guard dog. One that had enough intelligence to know when to stay put and when to act as their first encounter under the bridge would have him believe. Choso acted with Itadori’s interests in mind and deferred to his judgment. The claim of the eldest did not appear to coincide with the greater power required to demand such loyalty, leaving Itadori the larger threat of the two despite the younger’s current state.

Lower grade cursed spirits cowered at those above them. Curses were not known to fight amongst themselves, but in places where more than one cursed spirit congregated, those with greater power claimed the territory as their own and the lesser creatures were left to gather on the fringes.

Yet, Itadori yielded to Choso at the older curse’s insistence as well, which brought about a different interpretation of the two.

The bid for rest. The offering of food. And now the unspoken rule that the younger should remain behind Choso’s shield. With their cursed energy muddled, suppressed and held tight to their chests, Suguru was left to assume, then, that the two were equals in power to warrant this level of companionship.

It was the only explanation that made sense. Why else would Choso use its shield to defend the sorcerer, who may as well be considered their natural enemy, against a power greater than he?

Suguru was not blind to the curled fists kept at Itadori’s sides. The inklings of cursed energy dripping out of twitching fingers, ready to strike at the slightest aggression. Itadori’s eyes held none of the fondness or respect that were present when looking upon Satoru. Itadori did not care or trust him, and it was Choso who acted as a reminder not to do anything rash.

What had Suguru done to earn such resentment? 

If his skepticism was a thorn in the side of a larger scheme, then it should have been expected. If it was his attitude, then one could argue Satoru’s was equally obnoxious in its own right. If it was for the future, he had yet to do whatever offense his ‘future’ self committed against them. Directing animosity toward him when he had never heard of either brother before today did not seem fair. Then again, humoring such thoughts meant that Suguru would have to admit that their far-fetched tale was true, and Suguru was more inclined to believe the first two explanations before dealing with the ramifications of the third.

“You’ll be staying here until we decide otherwise.” Suguru looked to the building ahead as he spoke. The two behind him should be able to understand that was to be their place to stay without the need to point it out with his finger. 

Suguru remained in the hallway as the two moved into the first room he presented them with. Choso nodded and pulled Itadori along, who did not look at him. The younger sibling walked over to the bed and collapsed without a modicum of grace. Itadori’s back hit the sheets and only did both eyes close when Choso claimed the bedside for itself.

“I’ll remain with him.”

As if Suguru was going to offer a second room to something that had no need of it. What a waste that would be.

“Do as you wish. I will keep an eye out for Satoru. Do not leave this room unless permission is given.” Out of their view, a wisp with too many eyes scurried out from Suguru’s sleeve and embedded itself in the upper corner of the hallway’s ceiling. Suguru would place more of these sentries as he saw fit to prevent any surprises from occurring under his watch.

“Understood.”

Suguru left at the curse’s words, only advancing a handful of steps before Choso’s voice once again carried out into the hall.

“Thank you for enduring our walk.”

Suguru’s footsteps faltered. 

The image of Choso still looking over Itadori as Suguru left them had already told him who the elder brother was speaking to. The raised volume wasn’t done on purpose. It would only be natural that the curse’s voice would travel far in this empty shell of a building.

That curse acted as though it possessed a shred of humanity.

As much as Suguru detested going back on his prior judgment, he would concede that out of the two, it was more believable to acknowledge Itadori as a person— a sorcerer was another matter entirely —over the older brother only on the grounds of Satoru’s elaborating on Itadori’s state.

Partial possession. A human with a cursed spirit inside, maintaining his sense of self. A feat like that was impossible to believe, Suguru had already said as much himself, but under what circumstances would such a thing happen? And why would the school take him in as a student when Jujutsu law would demand his execution as partial possession equates him to a cursed spirit regardless of the control Itadori maintained?

Something told Suguru that if Satoru was indeed the boy’s instructor, then there was a high chance that his interference was to blame for Itadori’s enrollment. Poking back at the system and disrespecting the elders was Satoru’s strong suit.

“You think that I’m a teacher in their supposed future as well?”

Imaging Satoru as an instructor in any capacity wasn’t impossible, but it was difficult to say the least.

The odds were against him, sure. Suguru couldn’t picture his friend grading papers or teaching a traditional lecture or spending any long periods of time in the classroom setting of his own volition. Maturing in mindset was an unlikely dream to come true, which left the only reason Satoru would ever do such a thing to be out of sheer boredom or with an alternative variable to push him in that direction. 

Still, Suguru found himself reminiscing on Satoru’s tirades involving niche subjects of his choosing, some of which would happen to align with the realm of education—especially when it came to explaining his own curse technique. If the same amount of enthusiasm was placed into the abilities of others, then working with a student through the fundamentals would be child’s play… If Satoru possessed the patience or willingness to do so.

Perhaps Suguru was giving this imagined Satoru of the future far too much credit. Just because he was supposedly Itadori’s instructor, that did not mean he had to be a competent one. There was no possible way a movie marathon was for the good of any student’s education or a part of the school’s curriculum, no matter how many years pass by.

A set of old stairs stood in Suguru’s way, forcing him to pay attention to his steps as he made his ascent to avoid the noticeable cracks in the stone. Each step sent a small, but painful jolt through Suguru’s body, compounded by the motion of pressing into it further as he pushed his body up higher and higher. Like a nail being forcibly pounded into his skull, worsening the growing headache that sought to compound his day with even more problems than was necessary.

And to think Satoru would so adamantly believe Suguru was teaching alongside him! 

To spend another decade at this school, juggling the responsibilities of studies and missions— Satoru already went on mission after mission —with what has to be little to no downtime to breathe— let alone think! 

Teaching. Another step. Training. Again. Working. Watch for the broken ledge. Suffering. Another goddamn step. Rinse and repeat. One curse after another—When would it end?

Final step.

Suguru reached the top of the stairs. 

The shadows of the building before him enveloped the area. A gentle breeze weaved along the path provided by the gap between the building’s outer walls and the foliage surrounding it, returning in Suguru’s time of need as he closed his eyes and released the tension swelling throughout the deepest recesses of his body.

To even suggest that Suguru would do such a thing after graduating… the thought alone was torture enough. 

And yet, if Satoru was truly by his side through such a taxing endeavor, perhaps it would be bearable— For a time. 

A decade still felt a decade too many.

Suguru reopened his eyes on the entrance of the building he was looking for. The nurse’s office—which had long since been annexed as part of Shoko’s dwellings, given that she spent so much of her time there—lay further inside. All that was required of him was a short walk ahead to the far end of the hall. The door was left open as there would be no one to pass by who wasn’t in need of Shoko’s time when the room’s entrance sat at the end of the hall.

If the light wasn’t to be believed as proof enough that someone was on the other side, the pained hiss that hit Suguru’s ears just as he poked his head through the door frame to find that Shoko was not alone as he’d hoped.

“And done.” Shoko declared as she removed the gloves from her hands. “You’re such a baby.” 

The second body sitting on the examination table in the middle of the room belonged to Haibara, who was in the midst of stretching and flexing his exposed arm.

“I am not! I make the perfectly average amount of noise a person would make when their arm is all sliced up!” Such words were spoken lightly, given the severity of such an injury the underclassman described.

“You’re lucky I was available when you got here or else you’d be getting stitches and a whole slew of scars from someone else.”

Based on that, Suguru deduced Haibara must have just arrived on campus shortly after he did. The lack of evidence of Haibara’s wounds that had been present on his arm confirmed this. The reverse curse technique can’t do away with scarring if the process had already begun. 

“But scars are cool, right? Maybe I should have waited—”

“—Please tell me you’re joking.” Suguru ended that train of thought, not wishing to see anyone humor avoiding treatment for something so trivial. 

“Oh, Geto-senpai!” The perky underclassman was the first to notice him, prompting Shoko to turn around from her counter with suspicion in her eyes. “What are you doing here— You’re not hurt, are you?”

Suguru raised a hand to placate Haibara’s concern. 

“I assure you I am in good health.” Shoko let out a cough into her sleeve, obscuring what Suguru had assumed was a challenge to his claim. Ignoring this, Suguru quickly gave the room a once-over to confirm the missing presence of someone who normally wouldn’t escape Haibara’s side. “Where’s Nanami? I thought you both were assigned on a mission together?”

“We were! But it was a low-grade mission that really didn’t need two sorcerers, so he got sent to deal with a grade two cursed spirit in Shizouka. I took on a grade three in Nagano, which turned out to be a semi-grade two after all, but I managed just fine! See?” The proud smile on Haibara’s face did nothing to remove the sick feeling in Suguru’s chest. 

Haibara was a grade two sorcerer. Taking on and disposing of a grade two curse or below was expected of him, but his technique relied on working with others to maximize its efficiency. To assign him a mission alone was irresponsible! It was—!

“—and Nanami should be back by morning.” Suguru blinked as he came to realize he’d missed the latter portion of Haibara’s story. At least he wasn’t expected to respond, as Shoko took the opportunity to shift the topic of the conversation onto Suguru’s unexpected arrival.

“What trouble did you and Gojo get involved in and why do I have to be dragged into it?”

“I can’t ever imagine why you would think we would get into trouble. On a day off, no less.” Shoko’s deadpan look tore right through Suguru’s sarcasm.

“You look worse than when you both left for Shibuya. Did you even try to eat anything while you were out? Gojo spent all morning ranting about some melonpan ice cream stall he just had to try.”

“Wow! That sounds delicious! Please tell me you got some, senpai!”

No. They didn’t get any ice cream because someone got them lost searching for the damn stall.

“Let’s just say Satoru’s stories were exaggerated.” Suguru forced himself to smile to further avoid answering the question. 

“But you had fun, right? Man, I wish I could have gone. I heard it’s crazy packed this time of year. Maybe I can stop by in a few days if we get a break from classes.”

“Back to the important things.” Shoko tapped her pen on the clipboard holding the paperwork she’d begun filling out while they were speaking. “Why are you here and did you get me anything? A bottle of sake?”

“The nerve you have to be worried about my health. No, we didn’t get you anything. You can blame Satoru for that one.” Suguru paused, his thoughts caught in the memory of Itadori’s warning. The implications of time travel… Surely he wasn’t alone in thinking it was nonsense ? “I have a question for the both of you. Humor me for a moment.”

The two before him nodded.

“What are your thoughts on time travel?”

“That’s a weird question.” Shoko was the first to comment, with Haibara to follow.

“Yeah. Like, are you talking about time travel in general or whether we believe it's possible? Are you asking about movies?”

“Just your thoughts on the subject. It’s for a… bet I have going on with Satoru.” That wasn’t entirely inaccurate.

“Oh. Ok then! Time travel is complicated and hurts my brain thinking about it, but I think it’s still really cool. I wonder what time traveling feels like…?” A hum filled in the air as Haibara crossed his legs together on the table. “You know what? If I could time travel right now, I'd use it to stop myself from drinking that spoiled drink from the vending machine a couple of days ago.”

“Why would you do that?” 

The question slipped out of Suguru’s mouth before he could register it.

“Because I paid for it! Well, I paid for it later. Nanami was the one who put the yen in the machine. I wasn't going to waste his money, and it tasted fine at the time!” Haibara’s justification did nothing to prevent Shoko from sticking out her tongue. 

“Gross. Expiration dates exist for a reason.” Shoko then returned to the original question, beginning her answer with a shrug. “Time travel… I really don’t care about it as a trope. I mean, it’s something but, I guess if we want to talk about regrets, I would tell my past self to apply for the Kyoto school instead of this one. So many fewer headaches to deal with…”

“You don’t mean that Ieiri-senpai!”

“Are you sure about that?” Shoko hypocritically teased when she herself has chastised Satoru on more than one occasion for picking on their underclassman. To every rule, there was always an exception to be found. 

Nonetheless, the teasing ended as quickly as it started, with both Shoko and Haibara laughing off her answer. 

“Say, Geto-senpai, what would you do if you could—” 

Their amusement was cut short the moment Haibara halted his question as he already guessed an answer that made theirs appear frivolous by comparison. His own guilt flashed across his face. Only for a moment, but a moment was all it took for the air to grow too cumbersome to breathe in as an unpleasant silence swept in. 

Amanai Riko.

Suguru’s answer was obvious, wasn’t it?

However, the choice each of them would make to alter wasn’t the focus of Suguru’s interest. What was more curious to him was the apparent get-out-of-jail-free card for the consequences of their own decisions in the scenario of time travel provided.

“If time travel could be used to undo past lapses in judgment, then what would be the point in doing anything if you know it can be undone?”

Only in hindsight can one decide whether to regret the actions of their past. Suguru found regret in Amanai Riko’s fate. As he did in the fate of the masses that applauded her end. A new revelation that could not have been unearthed if Riko didn’t die that day. If given the chance to change only one of those outcomes, deciding between the two might as well be a coin toss, given Suguru’s current appraisal of how he felt. A very different view than that of the teenager who walked with Riko to Tengen’s domain to hear her tearful confession. 

“See, that’s what I mean about time travel hurting my brain!” Haibara grabbed his skull with both hands to make a point, pulling his bangs back as he looked up at Suguru with his answer. “I like to think I’m pretty good at judging right and wrong, but I’m not perfect, and sometimes I mess up. If someone tells me otherwise, from the future or not, maybe they have a point and I should listen because who wouldn’t want the better outcome? But I guess, if no time traveler from the future is telling me to stop what I’m doing, then I’m in the right as far as the future is concerned!” 

The underclassman’s confidence returned, along with a smirk on Haibara’s face. He was pleased with his answer. 

“But time travel can’t actually exist, right? Or else people would be changing the past all the time. I feel like that would break the universe or something. Especially if people kept trying to mess with the same point in time— Wouldn’t that be a mess?”

Yes. 

It would.

Haibara’s comment prompted Suguru to settle on a new conclusion when assessing Itadori’s claim: Either the pair appeared in their time through limited means, blundered through time via an accident or, once again, the whole explanation was an expertly fabricated lie.

“Now I’m getting a headache just thinking about it.” Shoko groaned, aggressively signing off the paper in front of her before tapping the back of Haibara’s head with her clipboard. “As your acting physician, I prescribe a fulfilling meal and a good night’s rest— No expired food! Now get out of here before I make you. I’m a very busy person, you know!”

“Ok! Ok! I’m going!” Haibara hopped off the table and dashed out of the room, his voice trailing behind him as he added one last thing before disappearing down the hall completely. “And it was one time!”

“Keep telling yourself that!” Shoko— who Suguru was positive did not hold a medical license to be qualified as a physician— proceeded to smack the back of his shoulder while he was still fixated on the spot Haibara last stood in the hall. “Wanna tell me why some stupid bet is making you look so constipated?”

“I do not look—”

“You do. I can find a mirror if you don’t believe me.” Her insistence was becoming a pain, but that did not mean her observation was any less true.

“I’ll pass.”

A bit disappointed in Suguru’s answer, Shoko tossed her clipboard aside and crossed her arms, awaiting further explanation on the context she is missing out on. “Haibara’s gone, so I’ll ask you again: What trouble did you and Gojo get into?”

“You ask that as if we searched for it.”

“And you’re not denying it. Spill.” 

Suguru closed his eyes and sorted through what he knew, organizing the day’s events the best way he could for his explanation. 

“Walk and talk? It’s best if you see with your own eyes what we’re dealing with.”

Shoko looked at her desk, finding nothing else in need of her immediate assistance before agreeing to accompany Suguru back outside. She did well to keep her voice down to a whisper as Suguru did during their walk, lighting a cigarette on the way to fiddle between her teeth as he caught her up on the two brothers from the future and the cryptic warning that came with them.

Needless to say, there was no predicting how Shoko would react, but her nonchalant attitude covered up by the forced display of shock about the whole affair was consistent with what Suguru expected.

“You’re telling me that Gojo grows up to be a teacher?”

“I never said he grew up, only that this Itadori claims that Satoru is his instructor.” That sentence could be said a hundred times over, and Suguru would still find himself unable to truly accept it. “Sounds impossible, right?”

“Eh, more like extremely irresponsible. Gojo can barely take care of himself, let alone other smaller humans that are told to do as he says.” Shoko blew out a cloud of smoke away from Suguru the best she could. The smell was pungent enough to reach his nose, but he appreciated that Shoko attempted to make the effort.

“I’m too sober for this.”

“You shouldn’t be drinking.”

“I shouldn’t be smoking either, but here we are. A fucking teacher…” Another drawn out exhale. “And this Itadori is brothers with a curse?”

“A special grade. Acts as if it’s human. I would assume Itadori’s cursed energy would have to rival Choso’s, though only Satoru would be able to answer if ‘his student’s’ strength comes from his body or the curse possessing him. He was supposed to be probing the older brother for more information while I retrieved you.”

“While you grabbed another accomplice to share the blame when you both get your ears blown off by sensei for this stunt. I see how it is.”

“You can always turn around and deny ever speaking to me if you don’t want to get involved. Satoru was the one who wanted you to check on Itadori. While I prefer you be at least aware of what we've gotten ourselves into, I won’t force you to come back with me. You might not believe it to be worth the headache.”

“Worth the headache? Are you still hung up on what I said about enrolling in the Kyoto school instead? I thought you were the smart one.” Shoko chuckled as she snuffed out the butt of her cigarette against the pack she had pulled it from before discarding it in the approaching waste bin. “This is the most interesting thing to happen around here in months, and all three of us are going to be at the center of it. Someone has to bring common sense into this. Yaga-sensei can lay on the lecture of a lifetime because I’m not missing out on learning about all the dumb shit adult you and Satoru have done.”

“Not you too.” So much for common sense. “Not only are you humoring this future talk, but you appear to have left your future self out of the discussion.”

“That’s because I don’t do dumb shit.” Shoko retorted. The genuine joy on her face was short-lived, replaced by something softer, more melancholic as their destination came into view. “You know, I missed this. I’m not saying you should go get yourself hurt, but any excuse to come see me would be nice.”

“And take away from those who actually need your help? That’s rather selfish.” Despite pushing away the idea, Shoko’s suggestion didn’t disappear completely from Suguru’s mind.

“I’m sure we can make something work. Gojo storms in whether I’m with someone or not. It might do you some good to do the same.”

“Be careful what you wish for. Acting like Satoru is the last thing you want from anyone.”

“You may have a point.” Shoko conceded, falling back a few paces as Suguru took the lead upon approaching the guest house steps.

Satoru’s presence was absent from the front, but the cursed energy inside confirmed that both he and their guests were inside as Suguru had left them. 

Deciding it would be better to first reconvene and learn what information Satoru was supposed to have gathered, Suguru followed his friend’s cursed energy to the common room on the other end of the hall, dumbfounded to find the one in question laying on the floor. By the looks of it, Satoru’s chair had fallen backwards— possibly from leaning too far back —and instead of getting up and fixing the chair back upright, Satoru remained in place with his legs balancing on the supports of the chair with a hand grasping the bottom of his chin.

Suguru couldn’t tell if the dejected look was from thinking too hard or getting caught in such an embarrassing position.

“Is that comfortable?” Shoko wiggled her way past Suguru’s body to stand over the teenager on the floor. The hand covering her mouth only brought further attention to the snickering behind it, not that Satoru paid it any mind. 

“Yes, actually. I like it down here. You should try it.”

“I’m good, thanks. I prefer my neck pain-free.”

“Your loss.”

The boundless energy Satoru was known for appeared to have dried-up in Suguru’s absence. Even as his friend crossed his legs and made a point to look as if he actually found comfort in his perplexing state, something felt off from Satoru’s usual antics. 

His conversation with that curse must be to blame.

“Care to fill us in?”

Satoru dared to pause and think about denying Suguru’s request before a snarky grin peaked out of his facade. 

“Choso is a Kamo.”

A Kamo? A curse can’t be—That’s wrong. A vengeful spirit would fit that explanation.

“Choso is the older brother, right?” Drawing on Suguru’s prior explanation, Shoko guessed correctly, earning two thumbs up her way.

“Yup! Turns out, he’s not just any ol’ special grade cursed spirit, but a Death Painting! You know what those are, don’t you, Suguru?”

“Obviously. I pay attention to our sensei’s lectures.” 

Classified as cursed objects, the failed experiments of Kamo Noritoshi were currently stored within the campus’ heavily guarded warehouse. Since Kamo Noritoshi partook in their conception, referring to those things as his bastard children was the only connecting thread to warrant bestowing the family name and even then— A Death Painting. All nine were accounted for. If one had been removed and incarnated into a vessel, there would have been some kind of a formal announcement at best and a slew of rumors hinting at a breach in the school’s security at worst.

“But Satoru, that shouldn’t be possible—”

“But it is! And it explains so much, doesn’t it? At least the whole human-like thing. We could bet money if he has any of the Kamo clan’s cursed techniques.”

“We’re not —Even if what you’re saying is true, how does Itadori fit into this? Is the younger brother a Kamo as well?” Distantly, perhaps? Being a member of the big three clans came with a variety of privileges that could explain the odd situation in which a possessed person is allowed to walk free if the rest of Itadori’s story is to be believed. Or it’s simpler than that, and Itadori was a Death Painting as well.

That would bring the total of stolen cursed objects to two.

“I’m ninety-nine percent sure he isn’t. Born over a century apart, same shitty dad. Can anyone guess how that works?” 

“More time travel?” Shoko’s previously earned thumbs up were spun around, drawing not only her ire but Suguru’s as well. He was growing impatient with the game Satoru was making of this.

“If you have the answer, just say it.”

“You’re no fun.” This wasn’t meant to be fun. “The answer is repetitive body snatching. One person after another. Noritoshi isn’t even the first victim.”

Body snatching? Victim?

“That sounds insane.”

“I agree.” Satoru rolled out of his seat and onto his feet, stretching his neck and shoulders while he used his foot to kick the chair back into its proper place. “Complete nonsense. Absolutely bonkers. I mean, body snatching and time travel? Aren’t you supposed to keep your stories simple when you lie?”

As much as Suguru had hoped for this to be a moment of clarity for his friend, the glint in his eyes behind those shades of his revealed Satoru’s true thoughts on the matter.

“And yet you still believe it.”

Satoru tapped his nose twice as he passed by Suguru on his way to the hall. As if that was supposed to be an answer. 

“Oh, and my possession theory about Yuji was correct, by the way. He’s got it bad. Still don’t have a name on the specific cursed spirit, but we just have to ask him that ourselves.” Satoru gestured for Suguru and Shoko to follow him, the latter a bit more eager and thus taking Suguru’s spot behind him. Even as the two scurried ahead to peek inside, Suguru maintained his slow pace and observed the looks of curiosity at the sight before them. “I thought big brother wanted you to be sleeping?”

Itadori was awake.

By the time Suguru could enter the room, the two had already invited themselves inside, filling the already tight space to a degree that Suguru was not thrilled with. Remaining in the doorway was already pushing it, but it gave him a chance to observe Itadori without drawing the same level of attention to himself as before. 

The younger teenager was sitting upright, arms on his knees, with red covering his face. The sudden intrusion brought about shock, but it was obvious the boy had been upset before their arrival, not that he was going to admit it.

“I still do.”

Itadori sighed at Choso’s remark.

“I slept in the car… I’m fine. Really, there’s a lot on my mind right now. It’s hard to just shut my brain off for a bit. You know?” When he finally looked up to properly greet his hosts, the same recognition Itadori held for Ijichi flashed across his face as he locked eyes with Shoko. 

Satoru picked up on this right away as he stole the only other unoccupied chair in the room and twirled it around at the foot of Itadori’s bed to sit on it backward with the back straddled between his legs. Sitting on it the proper way was, apparently, too much to ask of him. 

“Cool, I don’t need to introduce Shoko to you. Shoko, on the other hand… This is Itadori and his curse-brother from another mother!”

Itadori waved a nervous hand in the air.

“Hello, ma’am.”

“Ma’am!? Do I look old to you?” Without any sense of caution to speak of, Shoko stomped over to Itadori as she scrutinized every bit of him as he frantically shook his head. Choso stiffened in his seat, his eyes locked onto Shoko as Satoru looked at him, all silently waiting for the other to do something that warranted action while the two in the center appeared to ignore their presence completely. “It’s Ieiri. At least your trying to be polite. And let me guess, I still live in the nurse’s office and this isn’t the first time I’ve had to check on your health?”

“Uh, yeah. That’s pretty much it.”

“Then you know the drill. Tell me where you’re hurt, and I’ll see what I can do. Don’t bother hiding anything. I can smell the blood on your clothes and the scars speak for themselves. The reverse curse technique won’t be able to get rid of those, though. Sorry.” It was hard for Suguru to tell if Shoko’s casual disposition with their supposed time traveler stemmed from a willingness to believe his story or as a means to get the boy to open up to her faster, banking on a prior connection Itadori may already have to her. 

And while it appeared it may have worked, Satoru’s following comment did the opposite.

“Don’t sweat it. The scars are totally badass. You got him good, right? Took care of the guy responsible?”

Suguru watched Itadori avert his eyes, his nails tearing at the fabric of his pants in what he surmised was shame for not living up to Satoru’s expectations. 

“No. I… didn’t. He got away.” 

Before the statement could truly sink in, Itadori lifted his head with a pained smile on his face. It was the first one Suguru witnessed from him, and he, out of all people, knew just how fake it was. 

“I appreciate the concern, but I’m fine. Still a bit tired, but fine! Okkotsu-senpai already healed all my injuries after he kil—” Itadori stopped himself too late. The beginnings of the word slipping off his tongue were enough to fill in the space left behind. There was little point in denying it, but all three third-years remained on edge as they waited for Itadori to finish in hopes that he had been misheard.

“—Killed me.” Quickly, Itadori clarified how that statement was possible, given that the dead should not be walking about as if nothing happened as he was now. “But it’s ok! He healed me a split second after, and now I’m all good. See?”

Once the younger teenager removed his jacket, Suguru could not stop himself from recoiling at the sight of Itadori’s shirt. The cut of a blade tore right through the center of his chest, dried blood surrounding the wound only further proved that something had been stabbed directly into his heart. Curse or not, to see such a sight on a teenager formed a pervasive nausea that did not disappear even when the shirt was lifted to reveal no sign of entry on the skin. 

Shoko leaned closer and tapped the area with her fingers, catching Itadori off guard as she confirmed some truth to his story. 

“A reverse curse technique was definitely used here… Really following in the steps of your sensei there.” She shot a judgmental look at the teenager beside her, already deciding that Satoru was somehow the blame for this.

In any other circumstance, Suguru would have joined in with a witty remark of his own, but he was far too fixated on the person Itadori described. The reverse curse technique was a rarity among sorcerers. To exercise such control to successfully bring Itadori back indicated that this Okkotsu’s skill could rival that of Shoko’s. For now, Suguru would do well to hold his tongue in saying it aloud.

“I-I don’t know what you mean?” Itadori looked to Satoru for an answer to Shoko’s words as he shied further away from her progressively invasive touch, now that her medical interest was piqued. 

Was Itadori feigning ignorance? If Itadori was not aware of Satoru's near-death experience at the hands of that sorcerer killer, then how was he aware of Satoru’s hollow purple technique? The only time Suguru knew of Satoru using it since that encounter was in private during the very few times he’d witnessed his friend work to hone his cursed techniques, which made the chances of Itadori seeing it as well grow slimmer under that set of circumstances. 

“As much as I love attention, let’s keep talking about you. Why are students killing each other in the future? Unless there has been an increase in baby-making, we don’t have the sorcerers to be pitting you guys in death matches.” There was almost a hint of concern in Satoru’s voice. The thought of his own theory ringing true riled him up even more.  

Choso looked as though he were about to object, but Itadori stopped him, prepared to provide the context they were missing out on. 

“It wasn’t a death match. It’s… I don’t even know where to begin. A lot happened all at once.” Itadori placed a hand over the remnant of his wound in his fabric. “You can sense it? Yeah? The curse inside me. I was actually supposed to be executed months ago when I first got possessed. But since I was able to remain in control of myself, Gojo-sensei had delayed the execution and enrolled me in Jujutsu tech as one of his students. A lot of things have happened since then, and now, Gojo-sensei isn’t around to stop them, so the elders made my execution immediate. Okkotsu-senpai took a binding vow to be my executioner.”

Itadori’s fondness for his sensei went beyond what was typically expected. Satoru saved his life, and while there were details intentionally missing, the fact remained that there appeared to be some level of attachment there. If that truly were the case, then where was Satoru when his student needed him?

Out of all the excuses Suguru was about to make for his friend, one went completely ignored, as that was a line he refused to willingly cross. And as for Satoru himself, his friend ignored that bit entirely. 

At first.

“But he didn’t kill you. Why?” 

“Technically, he did, or else he’d face the consequences of not following through with it.” Itadori sheepishly corrected him. “Before… everything went to hell, Gojo-sensei asked for Okkotsu-senpai to watch over me in case anything happened to him. Senpai’s been training abroad, so it was actually the first time we met. Can you believe it? I thought Okkotsu-senpai was actually serious about killing me too! He’s only a second-year, but he’s extremely powerful. I almost mistook his energy for yours!”

Another special grade sorcerer? 

Only someone of that degree in power could match with Satoru and he, and to possess the necessary skills to complement said strength…  Future or not, a fourth special grade sorcerer exists if this abridged tale is to be believed.

Itadori, as honest as he came across, picked his details carefully for a reason that still remained out of Suguru’s reach.

“I’m insulted, Yuji. As if anyone could be as strong as me. Well, except Suguru. And that one lady.” The serious tone left Satoru’s voice as he took in Itadori’s story, flipping back to what he’d previously glossed over. “So, what’s this about me not being around? Did I leave my phone on silent or are sorcerers finally getting vacation days? Hah, wouldn’t that be a miracle, huh?”

Itadori didn’t share in his amusement. The younger teenager bit his lip, eyes flickering around the room while hesitating on his response. The sudden unwillingness to answer was not something any of them could ignore, but rather than force it out, Satoru filled in the blank himself.

“Oh shit. I’m totally dead, aren’t I?” 

With all the subtly of a sledgehammer!

“N-No! That’s not—” Itadori’s objections fell on deaf ears as Satoru continued on with his asinine line of thinking.

“No, no need to spare my feelings. I get it. Your super cool sensei totally kicked the bucket and left his students to pick up the pieces. I’d be pissed off too.”

“Satoru, enough!” 

Anger flared through Suguru’s body as he slammed his heel into the ground, the cursed spirits he’d summoned still hidden from sight, pulsating with the same spike of emotion. Suguru was unable to understand— to comprehend —Satoru’s sheer lack of tact on the subject of his own—No. 

He refused to believe it. He couldn’t. Even if everything else shared today was the absolute truth, this was not. 

And yet Satoru continued to speak!

“Well, now that the big secret is out of the way, did I die cool? Blaze of glory? Come on, might as well spill the rest—Oh! Please don’t tell me I’m—”

“YOU AREN’T DEAD!”

Suguru was not alone in his outburst, accompanied by Itadori, who shared in the same frustration and feverish intensity. But where Suguru locked up at his initial outburst, the younger teenager broke down further with hands rushing to wipe away the tears drawing his eyes before any could escape him. His digits were shaking, the same panic bleeding into his voice as he begged for Satoru to stop.

“S-Stop talking like that. P-Please. Gojo-sensei isn’t dead.” 

Shoko retreated out of the older brother’s way, backing up beside Suguru to give the curse the space he desired to reach out for Itadori in an attempt to calm him down. However, the curse’s good intentions were only received by the first sign of rejection from Itadori, as the younger shoved Choso’s hand away. 

“I’m fine.”

Itadori wasn’t fine.

He was a liar. If not to them, then to himself.

“Ok. You’re right. I’m not dead. I’m right here, breathing and everything.” That was the closest Satoru was going to get to an apology, his tone doing more to convey his regret than the words he spoke. While Choso did not care for his actions, Itadori caught on to what Satoru meant and his breathing slowed, once again more attuned to Satoru’s unique communication methods than most. 

Suguru, however, could not let the matter go so easily. It stuck to him, festering under his skin when it had no place to. Humans die. Sorcerers die. More often than not, cursed spirits were to blame. To believe Satoru was above that was to live in denial. Yet, to be forced to face such truths now, even in jest… Suguru was not in the right state to do so.

A tap against Suguru’s hand caught his attention. Glancing down revealed it to be Shoko’s fingers brushing against his own, aware that Itadori was not the only one troubled by the topic their conversation had drifted in. No matter what they spoke of next, the air had already turned sour. Nothing that came after this was going to change that. 

It was all too easy for Suguru to pull his hand away and retreat into his pockets. Grabbing hold of it was not something Suguru was willing to push himself to do either, thus he made the best of both worlds and returned the gesture by tapping Shoko’s hand back before pulling away completely.

“You’re alive.” Itadori affirmed, equally to himself and those around him.

Pressing his glasses as close to his face as possible, Satoru sighed.

“Just not around.” 

“It’s not your fault. Everything happened so fast and we… failed. Big time.” Itadori rambled on, once again avoiding the actual incident surrounding this mixed bag of events he’d already spoken of. “I’m sorry. I’m not good at—there isn’t an easy way to explain this, and things are still sinking in. Everything feels like a dream! Like, I didn’t think I’d be talking to you so soon and then Ijichi shows up with the car, but it’s not Ijichi! It’s some teenager who talks like him— It’s a lot.”

“You being here wasn’t intentional?” It was Suguru’s turn to press Itadori for further information. As he expected, it drew all eyes in the room on him, with Itadori visibly surprised that he was being addressed. 

What relationship did they have, if any, to make Itadori act that way?

“No. We were walking through Shibuya on our way back to the school, and suddenly we’re in the middle of a huge crowd of people that weren’t there before and the date said 2007. I know it sounds like an excuse, but that’s all we know. Then we ran into you guys not too long after. Talk about luck.” 

Did luck really have anything to do with it?

Satoru turned around in his seat, nodding with an “Mhm.” before bending just far back enough to face the group as some revelation had dawned on him.

“I don’t know about you guys, but I’m sensing there is a lot more that needs to be explained, and I think we might benefit from a small break? Right Shoko? Something about resting the brain to enhance attention span and memory or whatever.”

“You aren’t wrong.”

“So, how about this? You answer one more question for me— a simple one —and then we take five. See about getting some drinks for the rest of us while you work through the best way to explain the end of the world? Might be hard, given that I’m more of a visual learner, but you’ll make it work.”

A break sounded good right now. No one else appeared to hold any objections, least of all Itadori, who had looked a bit relieved to be out of the spotlight, even if only for a few minutes.

“Ok. I’ll do my best.”

“It’s an easy one.” Satoru pointed a finger directly at Itadori. “What is the name of the curse your senpai executed you over?”

The younger teenager froze.

“Right. You… don’t know. I knew that, and I still—” 

Itadori looked down at his open palm, methodically flexing his fingers before tucking both hands in his lap. He sat up straight, face absent of the minor flares of emotion he’d displayed earlier to make room for the grave look that accompanied an answer that made every cursed spirit in Suguru’s possession, driven by pure instinct, shudder in absolute terror.

“Ryomen Sukuna.”

Chapter Text

Misfortune truly follows you wherever you go. How can you save anyone when everything you touch turns to ruin?

Yuji’s body moved before his mind did, fighting through the lethargic haze weighing over him to drag him out of unconsciousness. The sway of his body drew back the curtain over his eyes, thrusting the view of the ledge he stood beside into the forefront of his vision. Disoriented, Yuji struggled to catch himself as he awoke standing on his feet, his head propped up tall with nothing to keep him in place besides his immediate instinct to avoid falling onto the metal tracks below or flat on his backside as his gelatinous legs fumbled with each step.

Tracks?

As balance in his footing was restored, Yuji took a cautious step forward to peer over the ledge once more, observing the parallel lines of steel stretching down the tunnel as far as Yuji’s eyes could perceive them. Flickering down to his own feet, the difference in height between the tracks and the tips of his shoes was only a meter or so deep, but the fear of falling twisted the plunge into that of an immeasurable free-fall. 

Vertigo grew stronger with each passing second, forcing Yuji to step back once more. He took in a deep breath, expanding his lungs to the fullest upon throwing his head back to stare blankly at the cold ceiling looming over him. 

The air was stale, almost gag-worthy. 

A constant, high-pitched whine drifted through the hollow underground station. A cry for repair from one of the many dimming circuits the lights ran on. Barely functioning, half the light fixtures weren’t emitting any light at all, leaving most of the platform in shadow, while the brightest out of the bunch flickered at the edge of Yuji’s vision.

Without the sound of crowded footsteps and competing conversations to fill in the stagnant void Yuji wavered in, he turned his head in the direction of the only stimuli that drew his interest, holding his breath at the sight which had been waiting for him.

Several meters away, mirroring where Yuji stood, was his bitter reflection basking in the glow of the flickering light, switching between his face and that of the unmistakable curse that burned through every positive emotion he dared let himself indulge in.

There was no reason to speak. The sentiments shared between them went beyond words, the understanding of where they stood relative to the other ingrained too deep for the mind to ignore. 

Yuji lunged forward. Hesitation be damned.

Fist raised, his body moved to the fury in his heart, eyes narrowed on the face that haunted the nightmares which greeted him when the waking world was out of his reach. The distance between them disappeared in less than a second. Yuji moved fast, but his target moved faster, offering no time to register the shift in positioning, nor the speed in the curse acted in retaliation to his advance. 

All it took was one blink, and Yuji’s fist connected with nothing.

But one miss would not deter him.

He gritted his teeth. Yuji pivoted to his right, unwinding his first strike while preparing for the second. The fingers of his left hand curled in bloodthirsty anticipation. His target had only moved a few steps aside, deeming Yuji not enough of a threat to warrant any action that could be misconstrued as a retreat.

Die!

The second strike did not hit flesh, but the concrete pillar behind the empty spot the curse left behind. Crumbling under Yuji’s fingers, he growled at the brazen impact recoiling through his bones. Dust and bits of debris fell from the ceiling as an agonizingly familiar voice echoed through the empty station.

“Careful now. You’ll bring the whole place down on us acting that way. What about all those innocent people?”

What people?

Yuji spun around to the sight of a station packed with civilians, unmoving, trapped in an unsettling trance, before blotches of red filled in the edges of his vision. People— unmoving bodies —lined the ground. Crimson— fresh blood —pooled at his feet. A cry for help— a desperate scream —rang through Yuji’s ears. The world twisted around him. A dizzying display of carnage that disappeared the moment the curse’s hand engulfed his face.

The tips of sharpened claws dug into the surface of Yuji’s skin. With an unbearable amount of force, the back of his head collided with the ground with the rest of his body along for the ride. The shock alone was enough to tear Yuji’s vision from him, but he regained the use of his eyes only seconds after, struggling to combat the swirling effect that only served to make the face smirking down at him all the more detestable.

Sukuna.

Wherever— whatever —this place was, Yuji swore he would tear that smug look off with his bare hands. To hell with the impermanence of a dream, just the act of getting rid of him— even once, for a single second —would bring some semblance of catharsis he so desperately required.

The curse removed his hold to admire his handiwork.

“This is a good look for you. But acting in blind rage won’t yield results any different from our last little foray.”

Blind rage?

Yuji wasn’t blind. The monster that held all his contempt, all of his hatred, stood over him in such a way that he could see nothing else but the curse that threw him on the ground.

“Well, what trouble have you brought upon yourself this time?” Sukuna let out a whistle as his eyes swept through the station. “Pulling on loose threads of the time’s fabric… Are you an idiot— Oh, wait.”

Refusing to take the insult lying down, Yuji flipped himself onto his stomach with the intention of shoving himself off the floor when Sukuna’s heel dug into the center of his back. The teenager’s chin slammed into the ground, snapping his jaw shut with enough force to draw blood.

“I did not give you permission to stand.”

Yuji spat the metallic taste in his mouth at the base of Sukuna’s kimono.

“I hate you!”

“Good.”  

Sukuna pulled back his heel. A foolish sense of relief washed over Yuji all too soon as the teenager was given a chance to take in a gasp of air, only to choke on it as the same foot kicked in his ribs and propelled his body into the nearby wall. 

The risk of moving again was one Yuji willingly took, failing to prop himself up with little more than a pitiful slouch. He couldn’t tell if the crunch in his ears was the sound of his bones snapping or the wall falling apart behind him, but if he was being truly honest, neither troubled him more than the curse slowly sauntering toward him.

Yuji had to move. He had to fight. Even if every breath he took stung and his arms grew heavy, his muscles burning from an exhaustion he didn’t know he had.

Inaction was nothing less than an insult.

“And here you are, believing you can alter history without possessing any clue of the repercussions your floundering is bound to cause. Let me guess, you’re going to warn that accursed brat about his future sealing? The possession of that boy standing so close beside him? My return? Try as you might, but you can’t get rid of me so easily. We were destined for each other, you and I. Vessel and host. It’s what you were created for.”

Yuji’s limbs twitched as he glared through Sukuna’s condescending monologue.

“Don’t look at me like that. I don’t care for the revelation either.” The curse turned down to his nails with a malign grin. “You leave so much to be desired.”

A surge of energy pulsed through Yuji, jolting him to his feet. Impulse demanded he struck back, if not with words than with force, the dented metal trash can beside him offering the perfect bludgeoning weapon to aim at the bastard’s face.

“If you’re trying to get me to doubt myself and stop—It won’t work! I’m going to try no matter what you say.” Yuji lifted the trash can by the opening in its lid and chucked it as hard as he could muster. “If I can do one thing in this life, it's killing you!”

The teenager’s attack bounced off Sukuna with a flick of the curse’s wrist. It was expected, marking the perfect opportunity to rush the curse while he was distracted. His goal was to strike from the side, a left hook empowered with as much cursed energy as he could pull together in such a short window, unaware that he had telegraphed his movements with his enraged bid for power.

Without turning his head, Sukuna caught Yuji’s fist with ease.

“You’re nowhere close to accomplishing that goal than when you started.” 

One twist was all it took to spin Yuji back onto the ground, but the teenager tore himself free at the last second, able to land on his knees and bounce back to his feet as if his body were rubber. In truth, he felt every impact, though he did his best not to care.

“I suppose you could spare the timeline the trouble and consume the fingers of this world in your counterpart’s stead. If you’re going to keep playing with fire, why stroke embers when you can hold the sun in your hands?”

“Hell no! I’m not giving you any more power. And you call me an idiot? Do you really think you’d just merge with the Sukuna of this time, or would there be two of you to fight for control?” 

Neither outcome was a viable one. One Sukuna was more than enough to endure, but a possible second one? And even if Yuji could take in an additional twenty fingers without zero complications, that wouldn’t just remove Sukuna from this time, but bring about a worse, super-charged problem instead unless he could find a way back to the year they came from. 

Without knowing the cause of their temporal shift, there was a very real possibility that Choso and he were stuck here. With the ruins they left behind, Yuji couldn’t forgive himself for what he believed was essentially running away from it, leaving Fushiguro and Okkostu to deal with the aftermath on their own if they weren’t mixed up in this as well. By his own will or not.

“Why do I even bother? Though I doubt you’ll get the chance to anyway. I wonder... When they find out what you are— what we did —will they let you live this time around?”

The images of Shibuya flashed across Yuji’s eyes. 

The blood. 

The fire. 

The dust as it settled at the base of his shoes. 

“Stop it.”

There was no justifying the carnage that day. No excuses to be made. It shouldn’t have happened—But it did. Sukuna did what he pleased, dragging Yuji along for the ride until his rampage had subsided and there was nothing left to ruin.

“The one with the shadow over him, Suguru, was it? I bet he’d gladly see you killed. You’re more curse than human.” Sukuna hummed as he walked, his steps shaking the very foundation Yuji stood on. The curse circled him as a predator would, keeping at least one of his four eyes on Yuji at all times as he continued to muse aloud. “How hard would it be to convince the Six-Eyes to go along with him? They seem pretty close. No wonder that sorcerer was foolish enough to fall for the trap those curses laid for him. That Death Painting attached at your hip would object, but they’d make quick work of him, I’m sure.”

“You’re wrong.”

The faint blaring of a train’s horn called out to Yuji from the depths of the subway tunnel, attempting to drown out the objections screaming from the core of his heart. 

His sensei wouldn’t… do that. Not until the deed is done and all the fingers were consumed. That was the deal they made. Not that it mattered when the Gojo he just met had no awareness of their deal.

Yuji couldn’t find it in him to blame either of them for believing his death to be necessary. After Shibuya, it was hard to bring himself to argue otherwise. But that was all the more reason to make up for his failures now. If it was possible to relay a proper warning and change what was to come, he could only hope that his sensei’s younger self would listen to him. And if time worked so that the year Yuji came from remained unaffected by his actions here, then it was his duty to at least make the attempt to return and fix what little he could of the world while he remained able. 

At least then he could die, in a better conscience than what he had now.

“It’s ok, brat, I don’t intend to let you meet your end. Try as they might, the moment your life is in peril, I’ll relish the chance to finally bring the death of that Six-Eyed sorcerer as I swore to. I’ll go so far as to vow on it.” 

If Yuji was supposed to find any solace in that comment, the curse was surely mistaken. 

“Perhaps you’re right about making the most of our time here. The past presents such enamoring opportunities. Our rematch was stolen from me upon his sealing, and while not ideal, just ending the life of one Gojo would be enough. For now.”

“That won’t happen! I won’t let you!”

The horn blows again, the repetitive clang of wheels along the tracks growing ever closer.

A flurry of blows. Yuji released a series of mindless strikes one after another, adrenaline and instinct guiding his movements as Sukuna weaved through them without a shred of concern. Where Yuji made several attempts to connect with his foe, the curse made one solid uppercut with his palm into the already bruised underside of the teenager’s chin. Before Yuji could be thrown back, the curse’s fingers curled and grasped his face, holding him in place as the curse’s free hand rammed into his stomach, threatening to spill what little contents were inside. 

Sukuna repeated the motion, holding Yuji in the air like a ragged doll.

“We’ll see.”

Aggressive claws yanked Yuji close before thrusting him across the platform and into the blinding headlights now engulfing the tracks. Drenched in white, the last sensation Yuji perceived was the deafening horn that blasted through his eardrums, drowning every other aspect of the world before he could even brace for the eventual impact.

Yuji choked for air.

Flying forward, the teenager only made himself sick as the blood from his head drained from his skull, leaving him fighting to remain sitting up with hands grasping for the nearest thing to latch onto.

Blanket. Mattress. Arm. Sleeve.

Choso—!

Yuji opened his eyes to meet the one he accepted as his brother sitting next to him, a hand already propping up his back while the other acted as an anchor for Yuji to keep himself steady. He was in a bedroom. The familiar landscape of the world outside his window told him he was back in Jujutsu Tech, but he knew better than to believe he was back in his old room. 

This was the guest house. 

He was a stranger intruding on their campus, in a time he didn’t belong in.

“Are you ok?” Choso’s words were nearly silent, the movement of his mouth doing more to convey his concern. 

No.

“Yeah. I’m good.” Yuji breathed, giving Choso’s arm a good squeeze before letting go, all too aware that his brother did not believe him. “Just working through some things.”

Choso looked as if he’d had something to retort with, but the sudden harsh smack of something heavy falling down the hall got in his way. His older brother wasn’t nearly as startled as Yuji was, his reaction delayed as he responded to Yuji’s flinch instead of the sound itself as if he’d expected it to happen. 

Either way, Yuji was grateful for the distraction marking the topic’s end. 

Retreating into himself came easier than expected. Not usually one to overthink much of anything, it was a strange feeling to over-analyze the very real and very tedious situation he was in. If Sukuna was right about one thing, floundering through this would not do anything but make things worse than where they started. 

And then Gojo-sensei’s younger self— Satoru. But that name appeared to be reserved for one person only. —returned with Ieiri and Geto and floundering was all that Yuji could do. How could Yuji do otherwise when the man who sealed his sensei and plunged Japan into ruin stood just a few meters from him? 

Two opposing forces were hellbent on keeping Yuji off balance each time he spoke, the familiar voice and mannerisms of his sensei lulling him back into a routine he had already given up on falling into while the presence of the one beside him drove his fight-or-flight instincts into a frenzy. In the very short period of time Yuji had to observe the two, he knew three things:

One.

Gojo called Geto by his first name and the other did the same.

Two.

They were close. Not just in proximity, but in the way they spoke.

Three.

Sensei's Limitless didn’t register Geto as a threat.

The last one stood out the most to Yuji, given that out of the cursed energy he could sense from the two of them, Geto’s energy felt rotten, murky and tangled in itself while rivaling Gojo’s in intensity. The very limited and spotty knowledge Yuji had of Geto’s future self didn’t leave the displaced teenager questioning why his energy felt that way, but for neither of Geto’s friends— Gojo was friendly enough with him, almost too friendly for Yuji’s taste —to be bothered by it, there was something more to what he felt than the obvious red-flags that waved over the Geto’s shoulders. 

This was the man responsible for an event Yuji had only heard in passing whispers between the second-years referred to as The Night Parade of a Hundred Demons. Dual attacks on Kyoto and Tokyo. The school was also hit, with the damages from last year still present in several areas that weren’t deemed broken enough to repair. In all honesty, Yuji never thought much of the event as anything but a thing that happened before his arrival, but when Geto’s name was spoken by Choso to catch Okkotsu and Fushiguro up to speed, the same silent look of contempt the other second-years would express took over their senpai’s face.

The change was brief, but it was enough to know that there was a history Yuji wasn’t aware of when it came to the body Kamo Noritoshi possessed. 

Only in hindsight could Yuji curse himself— He should have made an attempt to learn more. 

It was only now that Yuji could begin to understand how Geto’s body played into sealing his sensei. If Junpei had appeared in the flesh before him, Yuji knew he wouldn’t have acted any differently, needing much more than a moment to process what he was seeing, let alone ask just how it was possible for them to be speaking. The difference was, Yuji truly believed Junpei to be a good person, caught and cornered to be taken advantage of. 

He couldn’t say the same for Geto. 

It would be easy to write him off as someone untrustworthy and be done with it, but he didn’t know enough about him to say if this was the same monster who attacked his upperclassman or the friend of Gojo Satoru. Were they both one and the same?  

Choso didn’t appear to believe so. At least he acted like it, his reserved nature doing well to ground Yuji’s dwindling tolerance for the face that plunged his world into chaos. Yuji did his best to hold what he could in and follow along, especially as their story was under such heavy scrutiny. 

What Yuji could conclude from all this was that if he was going to alter the future, he would need to earn enough trust for Gojo to believe him. It won’t be enough to tell him about what will happen, but how it got to that point, and if Yuji started pointing fingers without any credibility, his sensei might push back and refuse to listen. 

Geto already didn’t trust him. The suspicious glares and the way he spoke to them already made that clear.

If only Yuji hadn’t made things worse for himself by sputtering out his death at Okkotsu’s hand so easily, as the conversation that spiraled out from there did nothing but dig a further hole of explanations he needed to give.

In his defense, they were going to find out about the wound— or lack thereof —eventually. Bringing Ieiri in had already dashed away any hopes Yuji had in hiding such telltale signs of an attack, and ripping the band-aid off such heavy topics came easily to him. He deliberately chose his words after that, avoiding the specific circumstances of his sensei’s sealing, as it would be better to explain it with the context of the entire attack on Shibuya than in the bits and pieces he’d been providing. Gojo had even agreed with him and the offer of a break, which would give Yuji ample time to gather his thoughts, was more than generous on his part. 

All Yuji had to do was answer another question to earn it.

And his sensei was right about it being an easy answer. 

“Ryomen Sukuna.”

The curse’s warning repeated itself inside Yuji’s mind, stirring up the fear he had in their reactions once the initial shock of his answer subsided. It wasn’t the possibility of an immediate execution that scared him, but Sukuna’s own retaliation if they somehow managed to botch it.

Yuji found it hard to look Gojo in the eye, unsure what expression was hiding under the older teenager’s sunglasses as his mouth remained partially open and still. And just when his shades were about to slide off and provide even a hint of a clue to what was going on in his head, Gojo jerked forward in his seat and clapped his hands together.

“Welp. Time for drinks. I’m thinking of that white peach soda I had the other day.”

Eh?

Was there something wrong with his sensei’s ears? Had Yuji misspoken?

Gojo bounced on his toes as he got up and maneuvered to the door, stopped only by Geto, whose feet remained firmly planted in the hallway. Geto's arms were crossed, unfolding only when Gojo attempted to scoot past him as an arm now stood in his way.

“Satoru.”

Sensei ignored him, staring past his shoulders to avoid the very cross look on Geto’s face.

“Shoko, I’m gonna guess a coffee for you—”

“Stop ignoring me.”

 “—And for Suguru… You look a little tense. A milk tea it is!” Gojo attempted to push his way further into the hall, darting left when Geto used his body to block the right, only for the sequence to repeat itself over with each failure to get through.

“I don’t want milk tea!”

“Ok, fine. You can pick your own drink. No need to whine so much about it.”

“You know that is not what this is about! That name—You can’t just pretend you didn’t hear Itadori say that he’s possessed by the King of Curses!” 

That was the reaction Yuji expected to receive. Explosive, borderline horrified at the thought of Sukuna’s presence with a few steps from one’s person. Then again, Gojo’s reaction wasn’t much different to how they first met. The same carefree attitude on display as if the threat the curse’s very existence made was not enough for Gojo to take seriously. All that was missing was his sensei demanding to fight the Sukuna himself. Yuji refused to play along with that request a second time.

“Yeah, yeah. Sukuna. All-powerful King of Curses from a thousand years ago—I heard him just fine! But it's break time, and I want something to drink! Move!” With a forceful shove, Gojo broke Geto’s barricade and stumbled into the hallway, earning a measly taste of freedom before the back of his collar was used to yank him back.

The sight sent a shiver down Yuji’s spine, hands too close to his sensei’s neck for comfort. 

“You can’t just walk away!”

“You’re right!” Gojo cocked his head back, cheeky eyes poking out from behind his shades to address Yuji, still a bit bewildered by the sight in front of him. “I almost forgot—Do you want anything from the vending machines?”

“Uh, no?” Yuji squeaked, very much aware of the growing intensity of the cursed energy surrounding the two. While he was the one getting dragged into their fight by Gojo, but the younger teenager sure as hell felt as if he was the one intruding on something he had no business in. “I think I’m good.”

“Enough with the fucking drinks!” Geto yanked Gojo’s collar a second time. “How is that your priority? Is this all a game to you? Everything else aside, we can’t hold off reporting this to our sensei any longer! And if you’re not going to do something about—”

“—And what would you have me do?” Gojo ripped Geto’s hands off him, discarding his newfound freedom to shout back with irritation to match the other teenager’s demands. “Tell me, oh great and wise Suguru! What course of action is under my responsibility because if you say what I think you’re going to say— God, you’re such a pain in my ass!”

“Someone has to be!”

His sensei stepped closer, sneered, lips incoherently mocking the very words Geto snapped at him. Gojo’s actions only escalated their conflict further. He pushed every button Geto had, both figuratively and literally. With a dismissive shove, Gojo easily dragged his classmate down to his level, prompting Geto to shove him back. On the verge of a fist fight, the sound of shoes scuffing the ground and elbows knocking into walls could be heard as the two stumbled further down the hallway to continue their shouting match.

Neither one turned back to acknowledge the people they were leaving in the room behind them, despite being the very subject of their furious debate.

The whole display was as ridiculous as it was concerning. Only when the two left his sight did he picture them as the adults he remembered. The image of two powerful sorcerers flailing at each other was… unnerving, all things considered. A nervous chuckle rose from that feeling, sounding more akin to a cough as he fought it back, not wishing to come across as though he were enjoying their fight.

It was the opposite.

Yuji wanted them to stop.

“Sometimes it’s their world, and we just live in it, you know?”

Yuji flinched at the slight shake of the mattress as Ieiri sat down beside him, claiming the bottom corner for herself. He’d almost forgotten she was still in the room, mastering the art of weaving around the other two the moment tensions began to rise.

Ieiri’s statement was not only referring to the ongoing scuffle outside, but relating her own experience with those two and what she assumed Yuji had dealt with prior. And she was partially right. Yuji’s sensei still did whatever he pleased, forcing the world to revolve around him whenever he felt inclined. But that didn’t fit the entire statement. 

“What a couple of overgrown children.” Ieiri let out a whine before Yuji had a chance to respond.

“Should we… stop them? Or…?” Yuji pointed toward the open door.

“Nah. Those two are like crying babies. Just let them make all the noise they want and eventually, they tire themselves out.” Falling back on her hands, Ieiri tilted her head in curiosity as she looked over to Yuji once more. “So, to be clear, you aren’t pulling some kind of joke. Right?”

A joke.

Life would be so much easier if it were.

“No. I wouldn’t joke about this. Sorry.”

“Sorry? Man, somehow I feel like we should be the sorry ones.” Ieiri crossed her legs and dug a hand into her pocket, pulling out a box of smokes. “Want one?”

The ash clinging to Ieiri’s clothes had singed Yuji’s nose when Ieiri first entered, but seeing her with actual cigarettes in hand was still surprising. The smell coming from her was new to him.

“Smoking is bad for your health.” Choso cut in, frowning at the offer being shaken in front of Yuji’s face. “And I believe smoking indoors is frowned upon.”

Following his brother’s statement, declined the offer with his hand. He had no interest in smoking to begin with, and now felt like a hell of a time to start.

“Yeah. It totally is.” Ieiri placed a half-used cigarette between her teeth before putting away the rest. She did not bother searching for a lighter, but nonetheless went through the motions of smoking as if she had. Must be out of habit then. “Smoking is the worst.”

Shifting in his seat once more, Choso leaned forward to continue speaking without having to raise his voice and draw in the attention of the two outside.

“My intention is not to offend, but your reaction to my brother’s situation is unusually composed compared to your classmates. Equally, I don’t understand why you got closer when they pulled away.”

Ieiri balanced her cigarette between her fingers. She thought about Choso’s words for a moment, shrugging off his underlying suspicion.

“I’m friends with the two strongest sorcerers in the world. If anything happens, say an evil curse took over and tried to kill me, I trust them to have my back. That being said, being stuck in the same year as them means I have almost three years of experience dealing with their dumbasses and I know how explosive their arguments get. Sitting here with you two is better for my health. Unless you want to prove me wrong?” 

Yuji shook his head.

Ieiri had a lot of faith in Gojo and Geto alike. Seeing as how she went along with his sensei’s antics when they got older with a certain request to keep Yuji’s revival a secret, it was heartwarming to see just how far back the two went.

Somehow, that translated to trusting Yuji as well.

“Ieiri-san. I know you trust Gojo-sensei a lot but, is that a good idea to extend that to me? We barely met.”

“I can’t hear ‘Gojo’ and ‘sensei’ together in the same sentence.” She pinched the bridge of her nose, exaggerating her annoyance as the grin on her face contradicted her words. “Of course, Gojo wouldn’t just have any curse-possessed kid as his student. The strongest curse for the strongest sorcerer. Bet he still has the same ego too.”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Figures. Can’t go wishing for miracles in this day and age.” Ieiri let out a curt sigh. “Despite what Geto says, Gojo isn’t screwing around. At least not entirely. He believes you enough to listen, so I’m giving you and your story the benefit of the doubt. No need to make a big deal out of it.”

A rather devious look appeared on Ieiri’s face as she paused to listen for evidence of the fight that had faded to the background of their conversation. Gojo and Geto’s voices had significantly lowered since they started, but neither had left the building, which meant they were still going at it.

“Quick, before they come back, tell me something stupid either of them has done.”

“Stupid?” Yuji’s brain stuttered, blanking on anything that could meet the criteria Ieiri was looking for. Anything he could say about Geto would certainly ruin the pleasant mood they built up, which left him scrambling for something to say about his sensei.

Getting sealed was pretty stupid. But that wasn’t what Ieiri was looking for, either.

Come on Yuji, think!

“I guess… it’s not stupid-stupid, but sensei slipped in baseball into the box with the competition methods in it. You know, the one for the goodwill event with Kyoto? At least, I’m almost positive it was him. Neither of the principles did it, that’s for sure.”

“No way! You’re lying! Sorcerer’s competing in a game of baseball? Are team battles too boring?”

“I’m not lying! I even have a picture to prove—” Yuji stopped talking the moment his hand hit a rectangular piece of plastic in his hoodie’s front pocket. The once smooth surface was now littered with cracks. The jagged edges bit into his fingers as he pulled the device out, preemptively warning him of the large diagonal gash across his screen. He could only count himself lucky the cut was clean, or else the entire sheet of glass would be shattered and unusable.

“I’m such an idiot!” Upon clicking the power button, he spun his phone around for Ieiri to get a good look at the home screen, along with the date and time on display. “How’s this for proof of the future? Do you guys still use flip phones or have touch screens hit the market yet? I can’t remember.”

“That’s a phone? It’s so thin.”

Quickly, Yuji pulled back the device and flipped through his photos, looking for the one he had Inumaki take for him the day of their baseball game. He hurried through his gallery, unable to linger on any image too long, as he already felt the tightening grip on his heart get worse with each passing memory.

Group missions. Watching movies with Fushiguro. Training. Outings with Kugisaki. Baseball—

There they were.

A group photo, taken right after the match had concluded. Someone else’s phone was used to take the big team picture, but Yuji had asked to use his for just the first-years, with their sensei crashing the moment by inserting himself behind them. 

Fushiguro stood in the center, helmet on and head down, forced in place by an arm from Yuji and Kugisaki each. Yuji donned his baseball mitt in his free hand, while Kugisaki proudly brandished her baseball bat, looking as if she was on the verge of pummeling someone rather than posing for the camera. All three were covered in dirt from the waist down. Sweaty and tired, they did their best to smile for the camera even if none of them could compete with their sensei’s self-satisfied grin as the man bent down to rest his head on Fushiguro’s helmet.

That was the first time Yuji had gotten a picture of the four of them together.

Why did it feel like such a long time ago?

“Here. See? We even had to wear uniforms.” Watching Ieiri’s eyes widen at the image in his hand helped Yuji’s mood to bounce back a bit, only because of how animated her expression had become. “That’s us first-years with him.”

“Holy crap.” The cigarette Ieiri had returned to her mouth dropped on the floor, going completely ignored as she scooted forward to squint at the screen. “Time travel is real and Gojo hasn’t aged a God-damned day. That bastard won the genetic lottery! And are those dad clothes? A buttoned-up shirt? Slacks? Who in their right mind wears that to a baseball game?”

“Sensei.” Yuji answered, flipping the screen over to show Choso the photo before moving on to the next one. “He wears something similar to his school uniform most of the time. But with a blindfold.”

It wasn’t too hard to find an image of Gojo that matched his description, settling on a picture of his sensei demonstrating how to create a curtain. He was standing in the center of the track field, with Yuji and his other classmates sitting on the steps behind the camera with varying levels of enthusiasm for the lecture.

“A blindfold! What is he doing with his hair?” Ieiri fell forward, gripping her sides tight as she plunged into a laughing fit beside him. “Who in their right mind gave him hair gel? He looks like even more of a menace than he does now, all spiked up like that!”

“What do you mean? I think he looks cool!”

Ieiri continued to snicker, holding nothing back as she looked over the image once more. 

“You’re his student! You don’t count.”

“I do too!”

“SHOKO!”

The burst of footsteps barreling down the hall accompanied Ieiri’s name as both Gojo and Geto trampled over each other in the hall, each claiming the doorway for themselves, leading to both squeezing through to get into the room. It was only when she made significant noise did the two realize who they had left behind, returning to the small group with a mix of relief and confusion as Ieiri continued to laugh in her seat. 

“Gojo… looks like such a dork—” She gasped for air as she pointed to Yuji’s phone. “—In the future! Like a smug feather duster!”

“A feather duster!?” Gojo barged over to the device in Yuji’s hands, with Geto hovering just below his shoulder. “Is that supposed to be me? ‘Cause if so, I think the word you’re looking for is tall and handsome!”

“No. Shoko’s right. A feather duster is a perfect description.” Geto’s comment came before he could react to the image in full, reeling back from the group as visible disbelief fought the evidence in front of him. His words lacked the same snappy attitude as before, his energy drained from everything else that has already transpired. 

With everyone so close together, Yuji noted that whatever had transpired between the two outside appeared to have concluded somewhat amicably, given that neither had torn the other apart when no one was looking. Whatever they spoke about must have flipped some kind of switch.

Growing increasingly aware that his phone was a one-way trip to bringing about the same disaster as before, once a single request was made to see a certain someone missing from Yuji’s campus and subsequently, his camera roll. The younger teenager swiftly brought the device closer to his chest. He allowed himself one more quick glance down at the photo of his sensei as he knew him before shutting off the screen.

Taking advantage of Yuji’s withdrawal, Ieiri openly chastised her friends. 

“Also? Really? It took you both how long to realize you left me behind? And you dare come back with not even a single drink? Such gentlemen you are.”

“We never even— Sorry! I would have gotten them by now if someone didn’t stop me!” Gojo flashed Geto an annoyed look and groaned. “New plan. No leaving anyone alone until we talk the rest out. We go to the vending machines together. Get drinks. Work out the gritty details and move on. We’re all capable of behaving, right Suguru?”

“The fact you can even say that with a straight face with how you’ve acted is a feat only you can accomplish.” The deadpan sound of Geto’s voice only further hammered at his point, yet still unable to break through the brick wall that was Yuji’s sensei ego.

“Aw. You always know how to make me blush.”

Yuji was positive that the five-minute mark had passed some time ago.

Even if the time had officially begun after the last can fell out of the vending machine, the silence that followed lasted too long, draining him more than any conversation would have if they had just kept going from the start.

Yuji had originally stood against the flat wall opposite of the vending machines upon their arrival. The pavilion was the same as he’d left it, or was going to leave it a decade from now. The only thing that changed was the drinks brands each machine offered, the vendor cycling through new brands every so often to shake things up, even all the way out in a remote school such as theirs.

For someone who was so vehemently against his sensei’s plan, Geto did not reject the drink upon being forcibly pressed into his hand. A milk tea, just as Gojo had said he’d get him earlier.

What changed?

The drink Choso had gotten him had already settled at room temperature, but that did nothing to stop Yuji from cracking open the top of the can and slowly sipping away at it while the three students who officially attended the school paid for their things. Or, more accurately, his sensei paid for their drinks as it was he who fought so hard to come here in the first place. Having something to occupy their mouths made for a good excuse to pretend nothing was out of the ordinary. Indulging in normality, for even a moment, took a bit of weight off Yuji's chest. 

Just not all of it.

Even with the proof of the future his phone provided, the status of Sukuna within his body guaranteed that Geto’s careful eye remained trained on him. Somehow, it felt like they were delaying the inevitable. What that inevitable was, Yuji didn’t know. If he had to guess, it was going to depend on what he was willing to share. 

Unfortunately, consuming caffeine wasn’t bringing the burst of energy Yuji had hoped it would. The effects weren’t appearing fast enough, but drinking anymore at once was going to make him sick. This dilemma offered no remedy, leaving the younger teenager to give up on standing entirely to conserve energy as he thought about the best way to start talking if that was what the others were waiting on.

“Yuji?”

All eyes shifted to him as Choso dropped to his knees, worried Yuji had collapsed for a reason beyond his own desire to do so. His brother was so attentive, it was almost frightening. He wasn’t used to anyone showing that level of concern, and as overwhelming as it could be at times, he couldn’t say he hated it either.

He stared down into the opening of the can in his hands, barely able to make out the liquid inside from the lack of proper lighting the evening hours couldn’t provide. 

“I ate Sukuna’s finger.”

There. That wasn’t so hard, now was it?

“Come again?” Gojo cupped his hand against his ear as he beckoned for Yuji to repeat himself.

“I ate Sukuna’s finger. Last June, about four months ago. It’s how this whole possession thing started.”

“Mhm.” His sensei hummed while taking a large sip of his soda. “And what did it taste like?”

Both Ieiri and Geto turned to him, mirroring the same baffled expression, down to the single raised eyebrow in judgment without having to say it out loud.

“Like really old soap. Absolutely disgusting.” Yuji grabbed his neck to combat the phantom sensation of the ancient finger sliding down his throat. “And the taste just lingers for a while—”

Ieiri choked on her coffee, leading her to punch Gojo in the arm for bringing about Yuji’s answer. Sensei lightly flicked her back. And while the two were leering at each other, Geto broke them up by pressing Yuji’s story further.

“Willingly?”

Returning his gaze downward, Yuji answered.

“Yeah.” It wasn’t as if Yuji didn’t have a choice that day. He could have died by the other curse’s hands instead. He could have grabbed his senpai’s and ran, let Fushiguro deal with it—Or he could have just not shown up to the school at all. But none of those options were ones he could have forgiven himself for living with. “My senpais unraveled the binding talismans around it at school. They didn’t know what they had found, and by the time we could get back to warn them, we were too late. Things got from bad to worse, and… I couldn’t —This giant cursed spirit was after Sukuna’s finger. It had me in its hands— Trying to eat both me and the finger, I —I figured if there was a small chance I could save them using its power, it would have been worth the risk. I guess I didn’t know what outcome I expected, but everyone got to walk away with their lives that day.”

The aluminum can in Yuji’s hands dented at the slightest amount of pressure. He held himself back from crushing it entirely, but the sound of the crackling metal was enough to ground Yuji in the present, as he flipped through the events that followed.

“It was then we figured out that I could suppress Sukuna and remain in possession of my body. Gojo-sensei used that knowledge to postpone my execution, under the agreement that I search for and consume the rest of Sukuna’s fingers. If I die after eating all twenty fingers, he dies with me.”

“And you agreed to that?” Gojo now stood over Yuji with a scowl that didn’t belong on his face. “I mean, it’s a great plan. Future me thought of it, so it has to be— but what? You just down the rest and then kill yourself? Hooray, the world is saved? Sunshine and rainbows for the rest of our days.”

Why was sensei so mad? Did he not understand how dangerous Sukuna was? The title ‘King of Curses’ wasn’t for show—Yuji witnessed that first hand. His fingers alone were enough to ravage lives, and those barely had a will to act on without a proper host for Sukuna to work with. Ensuring Sukuna's permanent demise was necessary!

“Yes! I did! It’s my fault Sukuna incarnated in the first place. I swallowed that first finger. I might as well follow through with the rest.” Yuji didn’t mean to snap. He didn’t mean to bare his teeth, lashing back at Gojo’s words. “I was born to be Sukuna’s vessel. Literally. No one else could do this but me.”

“And that means you have to do it?”

“Obviously!”

Geto grabbed his sensei’s shoulder, stopping him from whatever he was on the verge of screaming next. His eyes were fixated somewhere else, looking off to where the hall opened up to the campus outside. When Geto finally spoke, he was addressing Yuji even if he would not look at him as his sensei did.

“How many fingers have you consumed since the first?”

“Fourteen.”

Fifteen in total.

Three-fourths. Seventy-five percent of the way there. Five left to go.

And Yuji had originally thought that finding the first four was going a bit too fast.

“In four months?” His sensei squatted down beside him, poking a finger into his forehead, rocking his head back and forth as he scolded him. “It ain’t a competition—How are you still sane?” 

Yuji didn’t know how to answer that—If he could. On some days, he really felt like he was going to lose it. Not control over Sukuna, but of himself. He was just so tired. 

“I’m managing just fine.”

“Have you ever lost control?”

It was Ieiri’s voice that poked out from behind them. If she hadn’t been the one to ask, surely someone else would have.

Yuji didn’t want to admit it. He didn’t want to even think about it. But he couldn’t find it in him to lie either. Even if he was deemed a threat after all this, the least he could do was be honest and hope they listen to the rest of his story before any further action was taken. 

“Yes.” He held up three fingers in the air, holding them for a few seconds before shamefully dropping his hand back to his side. “Three times.”

Swallowing back the lump forming in his throat, Yuji kept his breathing steady as he recounted each one.

“The first time was when I swallowed the first finger. Sukuna was ranting about his return when I held him back and took over. He was so pissed too.” The curse’s non-stop screaming still rang in Yuji’s ears. The unrelenting threats against him and the cursing—It didn’t end until Gojo had knocked him unconscious after their fight.

“The second time was against a special grade cursed spirit. Us first-years were sent on a mission that was above our pay grade. It was a cursed womb when we got there. But things change. I swapped out with Sukuna on purpose, hoping to give the others time to escape the partial domain we got trapped in while the special grade was focused on me, and… it could have gone better. My friends made it out ok. That’s the important part.” 

Yuji left out the part where Sukuna tore out his heart and tossed it aside to take him hostage. Fushiguro almost died—Lying by omission was different, right? It’s not like what he had left to recount was any better.

“The third time was… right after sensei’s sealing. Everyone was scattered, searching for ways to bring down the curtains surrounding the area, so we could reverse what happened and… I lost control. Sukuna took over— He…” The can in Yuji’s hand crushed under his grip, sticky liquid spilling all over his hand as he forced himself to recall each image that damned curse showed him. “He fought like a monster. He took on a special grade that burned through the streets and when faced with something that could counter his attacks if given enough time— Sukuna summoned his domain and took all of Shibuya and all the people there with it.”

Yuji’s mouth was so dry, but his eyes had gotten so wet. Breathing was becoming a chore— Since when did the air become so stale?

“I-I’ve seen what Sukuna’s can be capable of. And I know I haven’t seen all of it either. Geto-san’s right, sensei. You can’t—You need to take this seriously. Sukuna’s not like other curses. I know after what I’ve said, I deserve to die here and now, but I can’t. Not until I make things right. I need to free my sensei, stop what Kamo Noritoshi is planning and kill Ryomen Sukuna! If it’s impossible for me to go back to my time, then by all means kill me if you know it’ll stick. But if there is a way I can return, I can’t leave everyone else to clean up the mess I left behind. It wouldn’t be right to them.”

If he wasn’t slouching against the wall, Yuji would be on his knees begging. Not for their forgiveness, but for their understanding. He couldn’t lift his head. He didn’t want to see the detestable looks, the hatred for what he’s done. Nor could he bear to see the disappointment that his sensei had to have in him for not doing better. For not fighting back harder. For letting Sukuna get away with the destruction that curse craved so deeply.

“I do believe your friend told you that the sorcerer’s failure in Shibuya was not a burden you alone had to carry. Yet you leave out everyone who failed you, regardless.” 

Choso was right. 

Fushiguro said that, but—

His brother rose to his feet, addressing the trio in front of them while Yuji was expected to listen along with them to what he had to say.

“The one responsible for leading the attack on Shibuya and Gojo Satoru’s sealing worked with a group of cursed spirits who, like myself, display the same intelligence as that of a human. Their goal was to facilitate Sukuna’s complete takeover of my brother’s body, looking to use him as a means to wipe out the human population with needless destruction. Our fight during this time left Yuji vulnerable and Jogo took advantage of that. Eleven fingers were forced down my brother’s throat. It was a losing battle from the start.”

“You were fighting? Why?” Gojo was the one to ask, speaking over Yuji’s head. 

Because Yuji killed their brothers. 

He was a murderer.

“Our—Kamo— Fake Kamo, as you put it— Pitted us against each other. He informed neither of us of our relation, leaving me to only realize who I had almost killed after Sukuna had been dragged out. I should have seen it earlier. I failed Yuji, and he was forced to pay the price of my misguided actions.”

How could Choso have known differently?

“Hold on, time out. You’re admitting to working with the guy who seals me in the future? You know, the evil bastard who apparently works with cursed spirits too? For human genocide? Whose side are you on here?”

Yuji tensed at Gojo’s line of questioning, terrified for Choso’s safety more so than his own. Whatever they decided to do about Yuji was one thing, but the thought of losing Choso— the brother he never knew he had —shook him far more than his own safety was concerned. 

“I’m on my brother’s side.” Choso’s answer was the same one he’d given Yuji during their fight with Kamo. “I only worked with those curses because they freed myself and two of my younger brothers from our confinement. It was through Fake Kamo’s neglecting to mention our shared heritage that I then lost Eso and Kechizu, with Yuji almost meeting the same fate. If I had known it was my father to whom I was speaking with, we would have immediately gone our separate ways. I owe him nothing.”

A hand placed itself on Yuji’s head, resting on his hair and prompting him to look up at Choso’s mournful gaze. His sadness succumbed to the fondness he held so proudly, breaking through as a subtle smile forming on his otherwise reserved appearance.

“Wherever Yuji goes, I’ll follow to make sure he’s safe. It’s an older brother’s duty to look out for his younger siblings. It is the least I can do to make up for what I’ve done.”

“Choso…” 

I don’t deserve you.

“I guess that settles that then. Choso ain’t gonna go on a killing spree unless someone hurts his precious Yuji here. And I’m sure as hell not going to draw big brother’s wrath. Sounds like a problem for future me to deal with. Poor bastard.”

“I don’t— You heard what I said!” Yuji stuttered about, trying to process Gojo’s decision. His answer came too fast! It shouldn’t have been that easy! “What happened with Sukuna—”

“—Wasn’t just your fault. You said it happened after I got sealed, right? That kinda makes it my fault too, considering Sukuna wouldn’t have stood a chance if I were there. I’m sure you’ve heard this little-known fact about me, I am the strongest. But, for the sake of my good image, we’ll blame the whole thing on Suguru.”

“Hey! That’s not how this works!” His sensei laughed as Geto curled his fist, readying another blow to the head as he’d already done a few times up til now.

“I was only joking!” Gojo pleaded for mercy at the threat, raising his hands as a pointless shield when his Limitless could do so much more. 

Ieiri joined in with the laughter, not nearly with the same amount of energy as his sensei put out, cursing the both of them as she choked on her coffee a second time. 

Choso didn’t laugh. That’s fine. He didn’t come off as the type to do so.

Yuji, however, did, but he could not laugh, let alone muster even the fakest of chuckles to go along with what had to be nothing more than a joke made in ignorance to lift the mood. His behavior was going to seem weird. He knew it was a matter of seconds before Gojo would take notice, and hiding his face in the collar of his hoodie would do nothing, even if he felt better for it.

“Something wrong…?”

Gojo’s words faded out as he turned past Yuji to something else outside. The shadow created by the additional standing just outside the threshold archway of the entrance was what Yuji saw first, directing his eyes to follow it all the way to the end, eventually meeting the one who had caused the echoes of their laughter to cease.

The sun’s glare didn’t do the man any favors, but the tall build and facial hair Yuji could make out were all that he needed to recognize who they were dealing with. All that was missing was the pair of rectangular sunglasses Yuji was used to seeing the man never leave home without.

“S-Sensei!” Gojo slid in front of Yuji, making no attempt with his luck to hide Choso behind him as well. “You’re back early from your mission! You look great! Did you have some fun while you were gone? Try some food? Meet new people? Also, just curious, how did you know where to find us—?”

“Suguru is not the only one with sentries around the school.” Their sensei stepped forward, fuming out the ears as he took one look at Yuji’s head poking out behind Gojo’s legs before pointing at the three students he was responsible for. “Who wants to tell me just what in the God-damn hell is going on!?”

Chapter Text

To anyone watching, Satoru was positive that he and Suguru looked to be performing the worst improvisational dance one could muster. Their timing was off. Suguru was all left feet, and Satoru was ashamed to admit he had gotten a bit too handsy with his dance partner. In his defense, Suguru was the one who started it. 

“Get off me—!”

“—You’re the one dragging me over to you!”

Cursed energy sparked between them, crackling and snapping in invisible bursts that came to blows as much as they did physically. Every time Satoru gained some ground, Suguru met him step for step and got in his way— again —forcing Satoru’s hand as he pushed and shoved his way into the entryway. His last bid for freedom landed him spinning out of his friend’s grasp and knocking his elbow into the wall, his Limitless doing nothing to prevent it as his mind was too frazzled to run even his automated systems when there were far more concerning things taking up his processing power.

Too many questions. 

Why is his future self missing? He’s not dead, so where the fuck is he? Who is this Okkotsu kid? How did Yuji get possessed by the worst possible curse that he could have named? 

Too many blanks to fill.

Future Satoru either lost his touch or someone found a way to counter his ability. Or maybe he’s just a shit person now. Better than being beat, right? Can’t let his ego get hurt. Explains why he left a kid on the executioner’s block behind—Oh wait! He left another kid—a second-year—to do his job for him! Isn’t that fantastic? And where the hell is Suguru in all this? Is he off gallivanting somewhere else too? 

Too many assumptions to run his spirits into the fucking ground.

All Satoru wanted was his damn break!

“Will you quit it and look at me?” 

Satoru hit his head against the wall, letting out a groan while he dropped his shoulders and sulked at his friend’s persistence. If he didn’t need his shades to function with the Six Eyes lodged in his skull, he would have chucked them at the exposed part of Suguru’s forehead. 

“What do you want?”

“Do you even have to ask? A curse often referred to as the equivalent of a walking calamity is sitting a room over!”

“I’m well aware! I have ears, Suguru!”

“Apparently, you traded them for common sense!” What could be best described as heat radiated outward from Suguru’s restless energy. The curses he kept confined within his aura were moving, climbing over one another in an amalgamation of negative energy that begged to be released. Whether it was by unsettled nerves or bounding fury, Satoru wouldn’t ignore either as a possibility.

Yet, no matter how much he riled Suguru up, his cursed energy remained contained. Sure, there were cracks in his friend’s supposedly impenetrable fortress, but even now Suguru strived to keep some level of restraint.

As did Satoru with his. 

No one benefitted from their fight taking it one level higher. The attention and destruction to follow weren’t worth the effort.

“Ryomen Sukuna.” Suguru breathed, still standing just enough in Satoru’s way to block the door leading outside. “I don’t even know how that boy is even alive! Sukuna’s fingers are a deadly poison! And he claims to be in control? Only a very specific individual could claim that—” 

One word echoed through their minds. Neither spoke it aloud. Suguru’s pause was left with nothing to fill it until he chose to resume, his voice lower than before.

“Should we believe it? Can we? For all we know, we’re being deceived.”

“It’s not a trick. The Six Eyes doesn’t lie.” Satoru's eyes flickered over to the room they left behind, recalling the way Yuji’s cursed energy flowed alongside the additional presence within his body. Energy that was his, but not his. The ancient presence must be Sukuna, but it did not flare with the same ferocity as any other cursed spirit he’d come across. The energy was suppressed, compressed below what he could only conclude was Yuji’s will. 

He would not acknowledge another explanation.

“Still… We have to report this. This isn’t just some curiosity. Bringing a special grade cursed spirit to the school was already risky enough, but Sukuna? Suppressed or not—”

“—You know what they will do, Suguru! ‘Oh, let’s just report his existence to the elders! That’s a splendid idea!’ In case you're the one without ears, the elders want Yuji dead! His own classmate was sent to kill him! Doesn’t matter what time he’s in, those old bastards are going to lock him up and do away with him because that’s how they operate!” Satoru looked at Suguru with disbelief, flailing his hands around as a means to make his baffled state all the more clear. The outcome of telling the elders was obvious! “How can you be ok with that? You weren’t ok with Riko—!”

“They’re not the same.”

Every fiber of Satoru’s being tensed at the words spewing from Suguru’s mouth.

“Take that back.”

“Satoru—”

“Like hell, they aren’t!” Satoru bit down on his teeth and hissed, his glare unable to reach Suguru’s eyes when his friend looked despondently past him to whatever he deemed more important. “Were you not the one who agreed with me when we decided to let Riko choose what she wanted? Even if it meant stopping the merger? The potential collapse of the barriers? Tengen turning on us? Is the same guy standing next to me right now because the Suguru I know wouldn’t be spouting such bullshit!”

“You’re being unreasonable.” Suguru’s voice gave up on anger. Calm wasn’t the best way to describe it, but the way all his previous energy disappeared only made what he’d said sting that much more. “Unlike Riko, ignoring the problem won’t leave Itadori out of it. It’s too late for him to have anything Riko could have if she had been saved.” If we hadn’t failed.

You’re protecting someone who is already lost.

A weight fell on Satoru’s shoulder. A hand. Suguru’s hand, shaking underneath his forcibly cold exterior. It wasn’t comforting in the traditional sense. His touch left Satoru’s frustration begging for him to recoil, but the meaning slowed his breath. 

As much as Suguru detached himself from this, he couldn’t stop feeling concerned. Even if only one person was allowed to receive it. 

“As much as you’re denying it with your actions, you’re hanging on to his every word. You’re believing him. Why? When has the Satoru I know gotten so wound up over a stranger?”

“I don’t—I don’t know. Ok?” Satoru shook out of Suguru’s grasp, but he did not stray far. Like the hand, his glasses felt unnecessarily constricting, leading to him tearing them off in search of relief, only to be greeted by his own reflection in the lenses. “I’m not—I just do. Look at how he looks at me! Like I’m some kind of savior! Like I could do no wrong. He respects me, Suguru. Me! I can’t— I hate it.”

All his life, Satoru was used to being revered as the strongest. The closest to god a sorcerer could become. Every interaction he had with another was always underlain with fear or deference, with the only exception to the rule being outright defiance by the one person standing in front of him. 

Yuji spoke of him with adoration. With a fondness that Satoru could not connect the dots to why, fostering an expectation that he found himself wishing to fulfill even as it went against his very nature to do so. 

“Just not around.”

Satoru wasn’t dead in Yuji’s future, yet even the suggestion had left Yuji in tears, mourning after a poorly made assumption. Apparently, Yuji could forgive his future counterpart for his absence. Satoru prayed that his future self had a damn good excuse up his sleeve.

“I’m not turning him in. Not yet. I’ll stall until the very last minute, at least until Yuji can say everything he wants to without having to do it in chains. As long as he’s in control, he’s not a threat. So, there’s no need for us to do anything.” His logic wasn’t met with the same confidence. Of course it wasn’t.

“As long as he’s in control.”

“We’re strong— I’m strong! I don’t need to worry about what could happen because I can deal with it. Hell, if Sukuna makes an appearance and tries anything, I’ll take him on myself. Just quit worrying, the wrinkles don’t suit you. Makes you look old.”

Suguru scoffed at the verbal jab, ultimately letting it go to keep focus on what mattered most.

“And what if I don’t want to follow your plan? You’re letting two curses walk about—”

“A death painting and a vessel. The only true curse among them is under lock and key. Come on, just go with me for now.” 

Satoru grabbed Suguru’s arms, the top of his head buried in his friend’s chest as his pride was shunted into the back seat. Vulnerability sucked. And as humiliating as it was, there was no other way for Satoru to say what was truly tearing through him without someone to anchor him in place and force him to confront it aloud.

“If the elders get wind of this… They already ordered Yuji’s execution once after I fucked off to who-knows-where. They gave the order to his own classmate— one of future me’s other students —a potential special grade. Who do you think his original executioner was?”

“I’m not killing another vessel.”

“Gojo-sensei used that knowledge to postpone my execution, under the agreement that I search for and consume the rest of Sukuna’s fingers. If I die after eating all twenty fingers, he dies with me.”

“Not on their orders.”

“I was born to be Sukuna’s vessel. Literally. No one else could do this but me.”

“I refuse.”

“Suguru is not the only one with sentries around the school.” 

Satoru’s eyes darted around until they fell upon where the small stuffed curse doll was hiding, poking its head out behind the stone wall hugging the nearby building. He cursed himself. Having grown used to the presence of their sensei’s cursed dolls around campus, the teenager’s own senses hadn’t registered them as a possible threat to their plans. 

“Who wants to tell me just what in the God-damn hell is going on!?”

Having been the first to address their sensei, Satoru was the one currently under the man’s scrutinous eye. Oh, how was he going to explain his way out of this one?  

The truth was complicated. Time-consuming. So many things to explain— Start with the obvious? 

Or Satoru could test the waters and see how far he could skirt by on a tiny little lie. Assure their sensei everything was A-Ok and then get back to the important conversation at hand. It wasn’t Satoru’s preferred method, but having to explain the all-powerful cursed spirit within their new friend was going to make the situation a lot more complicated for all parties involved. Especially for Yuji.

“Well?” Yaga would not put up with the silence forever, nor did Satoru expect him to. “I’m waiting.”

“I, for one, am appalled, sensei!”

With confidence, Satoru approached Yaga with dramatized disappointment.

“First you leave us unsupervised while on a mission, then you let us roam the city, getting involved in whatever fate throws our way, and now you don’t even recognize our newest transfer student? And his… uh,” Satoru’s lie fumbled in on itself the moment he glanced at Choso, unable to explain his presence on his mind’s improvisational bullshit as he’d hoped. “Yeah, I got nothing— But before you get mad! You weren’t here to stop us from coming back here, so—”

Yaga, more cross than when he arrived, lifted a hand which signaled for Satoru to shut his mouth, as if the hole he attempted to bore with his eyes through the teenager’s skull wasn’t enough. After Satoru begrudgingly complied with the demand for silence, Yaga set his sights on his classmates for a better answer.

“Suguru?”

Satoru was a little hurt, but he couldn’t blame the man’s reaction.

Utterly deadpan, Suguru pointed at the two time travelers beside him. “Those two are brothers, and they are from the future. We needed answers as to how it happened, so we moved our interrogation to the school instead of the crowded city street for obvious reasons you can probably sense from there. Did you know that curses can have familial relations?”

His tone came off as sarcastic, which was a shame, given that Suguru did not even attempt to hide the truth.

Caught in between, Satoru flipped his eyes back to Yaga, curious to know if their sensei had actually known that new fun fact of the day. Instead, all he received was a frustrated grunt, while the man shook his head.

“I expect this kind of behavior from Satoru, not you.” Giving the group one last chance, all eyes fell on the girl downing the last bit of her coffee, cherishing it as if it was the last drink she’d ever have. “Shoko?” 

“Geto is telling the truth. Itadori here has pictures of adult Gojo on his phone. You’ll never guess what he does in the future.” Solidarity at its finest.

Accompanied by a cheeky grin, Satoru filled in the answer before Yaga could even stutter a response. 

“I’m a teacher, just like you! Isn’t the future crazy?”

That comment must have been the final straw. Why else would Yaga had dragged Satoru— and Satoru alone —by his ear to the meeting hall to address the apparent trouble his students got involved in without attracting any more unwanted eyes? No one else received the same treatment. 

Protesting did little to persuade Yaga to let go until they reached their destination and the doors of the hall were shut behind them. No one objected to the orders barked out at them. Forcing the group to sit, the wood flooring pressing into their knees, placed side by side of one another to make for an easier time addressing all five of them. 

A scene Satoru was most familiar with played out as expected, with their sensei standing over them in silent judgment, on the verge of shouting their ears off with what might be the worst scolding yet if the man wasn’t still keen on getting a proper explanation for what is going on. The only difference between Satoru’s prior experiences and now was the two additional bodies. With the usual suspects on Satoru’s left, Yuji and his brother was a new presence on his left, with Choso placing himself next to Satoru to keep Yuji on the far end. 

Amusingly, neither was willing to step out of line and draw out Yaga’s ire further, awkwardly mimicking the actions of Satoru and his peers. Choso’s actions were delayed as he looked to Yuji for what to do. The younger one was surprised, still processing what was happening while looking at Yaga with apologies all over his face. Satoru was quick to pick up on that it wasn’t the person who caused Yuji’s surprise, but getting swept into the group scolding as a whole. A sentiment Satoru would bet was shared internally in Yaga’s head as he couldn’t ignore the brother’s unique cursed energy, leaving the man fortunate that out of the many powerful curses his students could have brought into this school, they got the two most willing to avoid a fight.

Standing with his feet shoulder-width apart, Yaga stood in front of Satoru as he looked over the group.

“Time travel.”

“It’s sort of complicated—”

Yaga continued to speak, raising his voice to overtake Satoru’s response.

“You brought two outsiders, one of which you lied about being a transfer student when I know we have no registration records of any incoming students—especially one with a cursed spirit accompanying him—to our campus without permission or approval because they are time travelers from the future.”

“I mean… Yeah. That’s the gist of it.” Satoru conceded, unable to argue much against it.

Hiding Choso’s true nature as a cursed spirit may have been possible with Ijichi if Satoru had made any attempt to try, but the odds were certainly not in his favor when speaking with a grade one sorcerer such as his sensei. The curse’s energy was too potent, too different from that of a sorcerer, and while Yuji’s energy had a similar issue, it was different enough to pass among other sorcerers in a similar manner to Suguru’s. Their energy wasn’t quite right, but it wasn’t a glaring target on their backs to those without the gift of all-seeing eyes.

If Yaga can’t read deeper in Yuji’s cursed energy as Satoru assumed, then there was a good chance they could avoid bringing up the whole ‘possessed by Sukuna, the King of Curses’ thing. The man hadn’t appeared until the very end, Satoru would have noticed, which left the teenager hoping his sensei had heard nothing too incriminating by the end. 

All Satoru had to do was skirt around the truth instead of flat-out lying this time.

“I don’t even know where to begin with that.” Yaga admitted, turning to Yuji for further clarification. “I don’t take kindly to pranks. Is this story of theirs supposed to be true, Mister…?” 

Their sensei let his voice fade on purpose. An opening for Yuji to introduce himself. 

“Itadori Yuji. Choso is my older brother.” Yuji bowed his head and his brother did the same. “And yes, we’re from the future. He’s a Death Painting, and I’m Ryomen’s Sukuna’s vessel. We accidentally traveled eleven years in the past, and we’re both very sorry for all the trouble and probably stress being here must cause.”

Satoru was convinced his brain had some form of flash seizure. A short circuit in the wiring. A minuscule implosion that distorted his ability to take in audible stimuli and process it properly, because why else would Yuji have just told their sensei literally the one thing Satoru was determined to avoid? If it wasn’t for the open mouths of the two behind him, Satoru would have requested that Yuji repeat himself to clear up the confusion.

Instead, he skipped right into making his own demands.

“Why would you just tell him all that!?” Satoru held not a single ounce of guilt, shouting as he had, hellbent on knowing what was going through this boy’s head. “Do you have a death wish—?”

Damn it! 

Great choice of words there, Satoru!

It was not that Satoru didn’t trust his sensei with the truth—far from it. The man has been lenient with them in the past, definitely on the side of doing what should be done over what had to be done when ordered from the elders up on high, but there is only so much a person is willing to let slide. If this was already pushing Suguru’s limit, then what did that say about their sensei’s?

“Being direct and straight to the point will make explaining everything a lot easier. I don’t want to lie to Yaga-san either. I trust him.”  

Yuji trusts Yaga.  

If what little doubt Satoru had about a potential relationship Yuji had with their sensei in the future was swept away at how open the boy was to Yaga knowing his secrets. Or maybe he was just like that? But the way he addressed him, the way he spoke so confidently about himself, proved there was more. Not to the same level as Yuji’s relationship with Satoru’s future self, but he sure respected Yaga a hell of a lot more than a stranger deserved. 

“Yaga-san’s cool.”

“Him?” Satoru pointed his thumb in Yaga’s direction. “Cool? No way.”

“Yes, way!” Yuji fumbled around in his pocket for the same device from earlier. His phone. “I can prove the whole time travel thing. I mean, I hope you take technology and photos of the future as proof. I sort of just remembered I had this a while ago… Um, if you want to get closer?”

The younger teenager gestured for Yaga to approach him, gaining enough of their sensei’s interest for the man to humor the request. After a few seconds of flipping through the speedy touch screen of the future, Yuji found what he was looking for. Another picture, presumably. Satoru could not confirm this as Choso leaned over just enough to see the image for himself and conveniently blocked Satoru’s view.

With a cupped hand, Yuji whispered to their sensei, his voice out of earshot, further mocking Satoru’s inability to know what was being said. All he could go on was the man’s reaction as he cradled the boy’s phone. Yaga’s prior fury had broken into something nostalgic, caught off-guard by whatever Yuji had shown him. Their sensei’s moment of weakness only lasted for that, a moment, quickly shifting back into the hardened man they were used to. One cough to clear his throat, and the world was back to how it should be. 

“Alright. I believe you.”

Um, what?

“That’s it?” Satoru whined. “Not even going to elaborate on what that's all about? Share with the class? I thought keeping secrets was frowned upon.” 

That was way too easy. What kind of trump card did Yuji have?

“Don’t leave us out of this, sensei! Show us the picture.” Shoko chimed in, with Suguru leaning back to keep himself out of their antics. 

“Do as I say, not as I do.” Their sensei returned Yuji’s device to him and took a seat on the ground in front of them. Might as well get comfortable for however long this conversation was going to take. “You’ll know when you’re older, isn’t that enough?”

“Absolutely not.” The duo responded in unison.

“Too bad.”

When pressing their sensei failed, Satoru was about to turn to Yuji for attempt number two, when his future student preemptively clicked off his phone and gave an apologetic wave. 

“It’s not my place to tell.”

Hmph. Be that way. 

Yaga placed his hands on his knees, requiring a minute of contemplation before rubbing his eyes and internally cursing all that he could for the situation before him. Time travel in itself was, for most people, an annoying concept to wrap one’s head around and accept. Given everything else Yuji just spilled out onto the floor, coming to terms with it all at once was a valid reason to focus on processing the information before diving headfirst into what came next.

“Eleven years makes it 2018. You’re a student here?”

“Yes. Gojo-sensei brought me to the school, but you’re the one who allowed me to attend. I have my ID…?” Yuji patted down his pockets for his wallet, leaving the rest of them to ponder what that meant. Though, if Yaga vouched for Yuji to attend school as a sorcerer with the knowledge of his status as Sukuna’s vessel, the trust between them became all the more apparent.

Upon opening his wallet to an empty slot where his identification should be, Satoru concluded the kid was either forgetful or still very overwhelmed, as his school identification card was still in Satoru’s possession. A fact he didn’t remember until the aforementioned teenager pulled the card out and tapped Choso on the shoulder with it.

Yuji thanked him and gave the identification card to Yaga.

“I started attending at the end of last June as a first-year.” The man looked over the piece of plastic in his hands, flipping it over before returning it.

“You don’t have a sorcerer grade.”

“Uh, no. We never got around to sorting that out when I started. There was this mission and then another, the Goodwill Exchange Event—But a few of my classmates and I received recommendations to be promoted to grade one sorcerers!” Grade one? That’s nothing to scoff at. And multiple classmates too? “Our first assessment was our mission in Shibuya and… um.” Yuji looked down at his fists, once again faced with going through the events of that day again.

“That’s where shit hit the fan, right?”

Yuji turned to Satoru and nodded.

“Yeah. Everything just fell apart. A large curtain trapped civilians inside the Hikarie department store in Shibuya. The ones responsible for the attack were demanding Gojo-sensei to show up. A few groups of sorcerers were on standby, but before we could do anything, more curtains went up and stopped us from interfering. When we finally broke through the barriers, we were too late and Gojo-sensei was sealed before we could stop it.”

Sealed.

There was that word again.

“Elaborate.” Suguru raised his hand, a deluge of questions to follow. “You said sealed before, but what exactly do you mean by that? Are you referring to Satoru’s abilities or him entirely? And by what means?”

“I don’t know how, but Gojo-sensei was sealed inside this six-sided cube with eyes.”

“The Prison Realm.” Choso clarified. “A cursed object intended to seal one individual inside at a time with no escape. Gojo Satoru was an obstacle to Kamo— Fake Kamo’s goals and needed to be removed. He knew making an attempt on his life was pointless, so sealing became the only viable option. The special grade cursed spirits and curse users he aligned himself with would only benefit from Gojo’s disappearance, which escalated the conflict further”

“Fake Kamo?”

“A body-hijacking sorcerer who possessed Kamo Noritoshi back in the day.” The explanation came out of Satoru’s mouth automatically, lacking the initial interest and morbid amusement he once had on the subject. “Choso’s and Yuji’s dad.”

“Mother.”

Even Choso raised an eyebrow at Yuji’s correction, a silent motion for Yuji to add more when he was ready.

“The earliest memory I have is… of my parents. I never knew them—I was raised by my grandfather. I’ve only ever seen pictures of my dad that the old man kept hidden in storage. I’d never seen my mother’s face until something clicked, and I remembered… the scar along her forehead. They’re the same ones Choso said Kamo Noritoshi had. The same ones I saw in Shibuya.”

What rotten luck to have a villain for a father-mother— parent? There was a joke there. Something Star Wars: “Yuji, I am your… mother.” But Satoru refrained, going so far as to find himself sickened at his own ill-timed thought. Or the question he was about to ask, knowing the whatever answer he had given would disturb him.

“My condolences.” Was all Yaga could say.

Satoru pushed his glasses back up his nose. 

“Whose body is Fake Kamo using in your time?”

Choso had refused to answer Satoru by walking away. Yuji did not possess the same luxury. He was trapped, bound by social constraints, to keep their discussion going. That did not stop the younger teenager from diverting his gaze to his brother, confessing what all he knew.

“I don’t know him. I never met the man before we fought. Actually, I say we fought, but really it was a group of us barely exchanging blows with him and this ice-wielding curse user shielding him. He retreated after this lady— Tsukumo Yuki, I think —showed up to confront him. Fake Kamo activated some kind of technique that awakened normal people into sorcerers and incarnated cursed objects like Sukuna—A thousand of them. All across Japan.”

Yuji moved on too quickly. Satoru was stuck playing catch up to the boy’s words, still trapped in the very first sentence: “I don’t know him.”

That was the first lie Satoru suspected Yuji of telling. Not a full lie, Yuji could very well not know the body in a personal sense, but Satoru’s gut told him the younger teenager was purposefully withholding the man’s name from them. Choso remained notably silent, only further proving Satoru’s suspicions right.

Fine.

Satoru would come back to it later. 

“Tsukumo Yuki isn’t a name to be thrown around lightly. She’s a special grade sorcerer. One of three, the other two being Satoru and Suguru beside you.” Yaga explained, mulling over her potential involvement in the mess awaiting Yuji in his time. “Tsukumo and Fake Kamo were enemies?”

“They definitely weren’t friends.”

“That’s good at least. Making an enemy out of her does no one any favors.”

“To recap, future me is shoved in a box because some guy wants to cause mass terror and destruction by resurrecting old sorcerers and making new ones, right?” Satoru couldn’t stop the grin on his face, picturing the utter disaster that would follow from that many sorcerers were let loose to do as they pleased. Their cursed energy and techniques would be all over the map and with one very particular special grade sorcerer out of the picture— It was hilarious in the most ironic way. “I bet the higher-ups are having a field day.”

“Satoru!” Yaga growled at his apparent disrespect.

“What? It’s true, isn’t it?”

“That doesn’t mean you should say it.” The mumbling came from Suguru beside him. Their animosity for authority and willingness to circumvent it was never a secret, and Satoru worked to make it perfectly clear. “And what are you even smiling for?”

“Obviously I’d rather not be stuck in a box, but it’s not like that’s gonna happen now, is it? Our wonderful student, Yuji, is telling us exactly what to avoid so all that shit doesn’t happen a second time.” Smug, Satoru stretched his arms. “We know what to expect, thus we have a decade to plan accordingly. No schemes. No cube. No mass panic and destruction.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s not Yuji’s future, dumbass.” Shoko shot him a murderous look. “Maybe you deserve to be put in that box.”

“Hey—!”

“It’s ok, Ieiri-san.” Yuji’s quiet voice poked through them before their sensei was about to intervene. “That’s the point of sharing all this. To stop what happened in my time from happening here. While coming here wasn’t intentional, this is the least I can do...” A pause. A breath to keep him steady. Yuji looked worse than before, his eyes dropping a bit, wearing himself out just by thinking. “After everything.”

“And you’re doing an amicable job.” To Satoru’s amusement, an awkward excuse for a thumbs up accompanied Choso’s praise. However, he was unable to leave it be. The older teenager scooted closer to the curse and demonstrated the proper way of performing the hand sign with all the vigor one could muster.

“Like this: Good job, Yuji-kun!”

Their combined efforts yielded an unexpected giggle. No matter how Yuji denied it by pulling up the collar of his hoodie and turning away, the scene brought about a mild shift in the boy’s mood for the better, offsetting the dreary air that always came with these serious and heavy topics.

A new goal, a side mission of sorts, solidified itself in Satoru’s mind: Get Yuji to smile more often.

Too bad it wasn’t in the cards for it to happen again anytime soon after that.

“I’m not—There’s still more to Fake Kamo’s plan. Awakening all those sorcerers wasn’t his endgame.”

“There’s more?” Suguru lowered his eyes. “What more is there unless these sorcerers are under his command?”

“The opposite, actually. He said whatever vows he made had been broken… he doesn’t want an army. He wants what he calls The Culling Game.”

“The whole world is on a countdown to being turned on its head.”

“Sorcerers, cursed spirits, civilians all forced to fight until one person remains standing.”

“Your Limitless— Red, Blue, Purple —won’t be enough to stop it if you don’t take this seriously!”

Of course, the Limitless wouldn’t be enough. Fake Kamo made sure Satoru was out of the way before the game even began.

“I don’t know what the end goal is. The guy was spouting something about sorcerers honing their abilities. We were going back to the school hoping to ask Master Tengen for answers about the game and about how to go unsealing sensei once we find a way to get back the Prison Realm.”

The room grew eerily silent. The pin drop analogy and all that, Satoru’s own thoughts, were too clear for his own liking. And to bring Tengen’s name into all this… it left a foul taste in his mouth that he couldn’t wash away with his spit.

“Well, you still ended up at the school. Right place, wrong time.”

“Yeah. Maybe Master Tengen might know something, regardless. At least about the Prison Realm, but I won’t get my hopes up. We don’t even know how to get back to our time without having to go the long way around. I guess we could probably ask Mater Tengen about that too.” Yuji forced out a laugh. “I’m such an idiot.”

You’re not an idiot.

Before their next steps could be set in stone, Yaga spoke up, putting the brakes on their plans. 

“We will take this one step at a time. Seeing as how the information you’ve provided takes place years from now, we can afford to hold off and focus on the immediate problem. Mainly, these two.” The group followed Yaga’s attention to the brothers with his chin in hand. “Does anyone else know about this?”

Satoru and Suguru exchanged glances, the former being the first to respond.

“Ijichi.”

“Satoru gave him the same lie about Yuji being a transfer student,” Suguru added. “His brother’s status was left up to the imagination.”

“We needed a ride! And Ijichi won’t tell anyone.” Their underclassman will be too busy fulfilling Satoru’s request.

Yaga should be happy to know they didn’t cause a scene or end up on the news! If anything, they should be praised for it!

“Getting your kohai involved… The three of you are going to be the death of me.” Yaga groaned as he got to his feet. “I would like to speak with Yuji and Choso. Alone. You three are to return to your dorms for the night.”

Alone.

For what? What’s more to talk about, and why can’t they be a part of it? They just explained everything! Everything except—

Sukuna.

“If this is about, you know, the elephant-sized curse in the room, I’ve got it covered.” Satoru came off a bit too frantic, springing off the ground as fast as he had. But that didn’t change Yaga’s decision. 

“Go. Before I’m forced to make up your punishments on the spot. You should be grateful I’m just sending you to your room with a slap on the wrist.”

“I really think this should be a group discussion.”

“I don’t. Suguru, be sure to close the door on your way out.” 

“Of course.” His friend had gotten up right after he did. Already a few steps toward the door, but not entirely away from Satoru’s side. One hand in his pocket, the other about to reach out to usher Satoru to follow, but to no avail.

“Suguru! Sensei—! Come on.” Satoru swatted Suguru away and marched closer to Yaga, lowering his voice as he glared at the man. Eye to eye. “Don’t report him. Yuji isn’t a threat.”

“ Until Principle Yamazaki has concluded his business overseas, I’m the one left in charge of the school, which includes all the students in attendance. I have made my decision.” Sighing, shoved Satoru’s glasses back over his eyes, unwilling to be intimidated by his own student. “I give you my word. You’ll see them both in the morning.”

“Good.” Satoru wouldn’t admit it out loud, but hearing his sensei’s promise eased his nerves. The idea of leaving the three alone was still no more appealing than before, but he was now able to walk towards the exit without physical protest. 

Yaga was cool, supposedly.

Time to prove it.

With a wave, Satoru left Yuji with some advice in place of goodbye before vacating the room. 

“Don’t be afraid to give him hell, Yuji! Yaga-sensei finds it endearing!” It wasn’t until Shoko shuffled past her classmates did Suguru shut the door, forcing Satoru out of the doorway to make it happen. 

The sun had dipped below the treeline in their absence. At the top of the stairs, the trio stood overlooking the small courtyard, their path already set for them, but Satoru wasn’t exactly in the mood to kick it into high gear back to his room. The idea of keeping an ear against the door and attempting to listen in on the continued conversation inside was appealing, but the sound of steps on the stone path below hit Satoru’s ears.

“Just where do you think you’re going, Suguru?”

His friend stopped in his tracks, tugging at the tie in his hair until the tightly bound strands came loose. Had Suguru’s hair gotten longer?

“I’m doing what we were told. Not all of us possess the boundless amount of energy you do.”

“That’s it?”

“Satoru, I’m tired. Yaga-sensei will be with those two for the time being, and we should be lucky that out of all the staff, he’s the one who caught us. He’s quite lenient for his position, even when it's in greater interest not to be.” Suguru turned around back to him, offering additional reassurance. “Itadori is in good hands. If anything happens, you’ll be the first to know. What can anyone here do to stop you?” 

Besides stuffing him in a freaky, eye-covered box?

“See? There’s nothing to worry about. We even got away with our ears intact. No lectures.” Shoko hummed. The bright side wasn’t enough to stop her from scrunching her nose as she cocked her head to the building one last time. “Though I’m definitely having nightmares tonight. Yuji’s story… It’s a lot. I don’t envy him.”

Satoru didn’t either.

The trio walked toward the dorms together, their collective pace slow and steady, with little to be spoken between them. It was obvious something was occupying each of their minds, Satoru’s own raking over the details of Yuji’s tale, hoping to piece together the absent details and uncover more to analyze in his own time. Suguru, while outwardly neutral in his expression, kept wandering with his eyes to anything but the path at their feet, making it a miracle he hadn’t tripped not once since their departure. It was Shoko, unsurprisingly, that sought to scrounge up what she could for one last topic of interest before reaching their destination.

“So, what are the chances that Yuji is sensei’s secret kid?” Shoko didn’t force their participation, but all it took was one question to get both teenagers in front of her to face her in equal parts concern and confusion. Judgmental too, but that was all Suguru’s doing. “What? You guys have to be wondering the same thing. Why else would one picture convince Yaga-sensei so easily?”

“Because that device and photo quality makes every other phone we own pale in comparison. Satoru made sure to buy the latest model.”

“Now, now, Suguru, let’s not be hasty. You saw how our dear sensei reacted to the image Yuji shared. There is obviously some deep, scandalous secret at play.”

“Yuji said his mother had scars, not his father.” Shoko pointed out, bouncing evidence back and forth between her and Satoru. “Now sensei wants to talk to him all alone? Suspicious.”

“And isn’t sensei divorced?”

“That’s right! He also has that dad aura to him. Did you see the way he looked at you two when you mentioned Ijichi? Classic ‘I’m disappointed, but not surprised’ look.”

“Sensei is divorced, but not due to infidelity.” Suguru scoffed at them, looking as though he were about to prepare his own tirade for their improper attitude before his riled nerves calmed as best they could. “They don’t even look related. If you’re going to accuse him of such a scandal, at least pick something believable.”

“And what would you suggest?”

 His friend dodged Satoru’s light poke to his face.

“I don’t know! I’m sure the two of you will come up with something.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“Only if you make it one.”

“Boys, chill.” Using her body as a wedge between them, Shoko put her hands up to prevent Satoru and Suguru from getting closer. “Can’t anything just be all fun and games between you two?”

“What do you mean? This is fun.” Satoru smiled, doing nothing to ease Shoko’s concern as the time came to split off to their respective buildings. 

“Loads of fun.” Suguru echoed.

“Sure it is. Night you two.” 

The group splintered at that, waving each other off as Satoru and Suguru entered the boys' dorms with enough daylight spared to navigate the long hall leading to their assigned rooms. There were only two other occupants at the moment, despite the excessive amount of rooms outfitted to house a small army. Sneaking past the first few rooms to avoid drawing attention and unneeded conversation was difficult when the floorboards creaked under every step, something Satoru could avoid with his Limitless if he chose, though trying to find the exact pattern to follow to keep his movements silent was all the more amusing. Even if Suguru didn’t agree.

With only a few additional steps required of him, Satoru ended up at his door, Suguru mirroring him in front of his own beside him. Satoru felt weird referring to this place as his, having spent more time in hotel rooms and the back seats of cars for the onslaught of missions tossed his way. Perhaps it was time to crack down on the teleportation idea of his, if only to avoid wasting his precious time traveling when more important things were at his doorstep. 

Satoru reached for the door handle, eyes staring down at his hand now lingering in place on the knob, expecting it to move on its own. 

“Hey, Satoru?” Suguru’s voice didn’t need to be loud to carry far down the hall. “You good?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m just peachy.” Shifting away from his hesitation, Satoru returned the favor. “You?”

“Never better.”

What liars they were.

A harsh twist was all that was needed to snap both Satoru from his thoughts and the door wide open. About to storm inside with one foot already in the door, Satoru pulled back a step and poked his head back out into the hall, the ends of his friend’s hair were enough of a sign for him to call out knowing Suguru hadn’t closed his door just yet.

“Tax fraud.”

It took a second, but soon Suguru showed himself. His hand rubbed at his eyes to keep himself awake only a few seconds longer.

“What?”

“The scandal. It’s tax fraud. Yuji found his hidden bank statements, and they need to discuss what sensei has to do to keep Yuji quiet.”

“God.” Suguru let out an exasperated laugh. It was short-lived, but worth seeing nonetheless. “Good night Satoru.”

“Night Suguru.”

His friend’s door clicked shut. Satoru’s followed quickly after.

The room was, for the most part, empty. There were small things. Collectables and DVDs lay scattered about under a layer of dust and a jacket hung over his desk chair that he never bothered to put away, but that was it. The desk itself went unused. Proper classes were barely held and when they were, the chances of Satoru doing any kind of homework were minimal. If he did it, he chose somewhere else to be, which was a common theme given that whenever he could be in his dorm or out there in the world far away from it, it was always the latter that got his attention. 

What could Satoru say? Everything outside the campus made for a better distraction these last few months. It kept his mind strictly in the present.

But, he supposed, all things change eventually. 

Tossing his shades aside on the bedside table, the teenager flopped onto the bed without changing clothes or pulling back the covers. There was no need to, his prior prediction now a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Satoru wasn’t going to sleep tonight.

There was far too much to think about.

Chapter Text

Out of all the images stored on his brother’s phone, Choso was lost on why Yuji chose to share a picture of a panda to convince the man of their tale. 

Correction, a cursed corpse. The very same corpse that the two fought alongside in Shibuya. A descriptor Choso only knew when the cursed spirits he’d once allied with spoke of the school and its inhabitants when preparing for the titular day of Gojo’s sealing. Yuji’s upperclassman. Panda-senpai.

The question of why the image of that panda posing alongside two other students of his class that Choso had yet to meet was of any importance answered itself simply by the reaction on the instructor’s face. 

Yaga held the device—the image—with care. While brief, the expression that swept over the man’s face was one Choso was all too familiar with, aware of how overpowering such an emotion was. An attachment beyond words. The feeling of pride not in oneself, but in another. The swelling sensation that neither Death Painting nor infuriated instructor could completely deny.

Recognition of family.

The creation of a cursed corpse is not one of natural occurrence. Yaga was Panda’s creator, and more importantly, he was Panda’s father. Such titles were not one and the same. As cruel as it was, Choso knew this to be the truth.

And yet, when Yaga returned Yuji’s phone to him, the cursed spirit could not help but wonder if the one responsible for ushering him and his siblings into this world had ever once shared the same expression Choso had witnessed now. His first reaction was doubt, though he was ashamed to admit the tiniest sliver of his being wished it had been the case even knowing such a wish would only yield a macabre imitation of love. As if a mind occupied by nothing but its experiments and the corrupted logic that dictated them could ever share in the same experience—

Choso had no need for a father.

He had his siblings, and that was enough.

Yuji did well to hide the restless energy within him. Turbulent, but far from unstable, recalling so much of their history was a fight all on its own. Not as adept at holding in such building pressure as the remaining two around him, Yuji could not help but drop his shoulders and release a long-held breath once the trio of students were no longer in view. His brother’s back slumped over forward, not so much as relaxing but finally giving way from the stress of holding it straight throughout their discussion. 

It was only when the man in front of them turned around did Yuji rush to assume his prior position.

Yaga noticed this, but chose not to comment. The man sat down again, placing himself between Choso and Yuji to assess the two in silence with no interruption. 

With much to consider, it was only natural that Yaga would take this time to pause and assess the options before him. The subject of Yuji’s status as Sukuna’s vessel was imminent. Since his brother’s reveal of that fact, Satoru’s actions had made the teenager’s willingness to move Heaven and Earth for the consequences of that very fact to remain out of reach. That sentiment alone must have instilled a sense of trust between sensei and student as it would be foolish to leave oneself alone with those considered dangerous and deserving of immediate detainment.

Choso could only assume this was the case, but he refused to definitively declare it such. Rash proclamation of this minor victory that still had yet to come would not do the two any good.

“Satoru is, by far, the most infuriating student I have ever put up with.” 

The silence broke, and a half-hearted chuckle followed, prompted by whichever memory had surfaced from his remark. 

“Cocky. Arrogant. Disrespectful— Especially to his elders. Prone to acting on his own. Dismisses the consequence of his own actions. Honestly, the last three years attending Jujutsu Tech have only ingrained this mindset even further. With all that said, I’m inclined to consider his judgment.”

“Thank you—”

“I said consider.” Yaga was quick to halt any celebration. His preview statement only acted as a means to justify why they were speaking in the first place. Not all sorcerers will listen to what curses and the condemned to house them would have to say. Choso had already witnessed this with Suguru opposing the very idea at every turn. “When you are from and how you came to be here aside, there is still the matter of what the two of you are that we need to address.”

“You’re right. Sorry.” His brother’s visible relief shoved back down, but that did not deter his confidence in trusting the man with the truth. “Whatever you want to know.”

“There’s no getting around this. The appearance of a vessel capable of containing Ryomen Sukuna is not something that needs to be shared with everyone you meet. Your bluntness about your situation is appreciated, but if you keep that up you’ll end up in trouble I won’t be able to get you out of. Understand?”

“Uh, Yeah. I understand.”

“Good. As much as Satoru is willing to handle whatever comes your way, by your own story, he doesn’t need to be making more enemies than he already has. For everyone’s sake, caution is the best course of action.”

Guilt flashed over Yuji’s face.

“I don’t want to make things worse. Really, if it becomes too much trouble—”

“Then we’ll have to handle it the best we can if the situation calls for it.”

Yuji bit down on his tongue, about to speak further but chose against it. It was only when the man refrained from adding anything else did his brother’s confusion prompt him to question the way Yaga was avoiding the subject in itself with his scolding.

“Are you not going to ask… You know? How it happened? Or if I’m safe to be around? How many fingers—”

“Too many. I don’t need a number to know that much.” Yaga glanced over his shoulder to where his students had last been seen before their departure. “I was too late to catch any of your conversation by the vending machines, but I’m going to go out on a limb and assume you’ve already been through this with my students, haven’t you? I won’t make you repeat yourself today. Satoru claims you aren’t a threat. He trusts that you aren’t. That’s enough for now.”

“Oh.” The sound slipped out before Yuji could catch himself. “I-I mean. I’m happy to hear that—er, I’m just, Sensei’s approval… means a lot.” 

His brother’s eyes hid themselves by staring at the floor. Melancholic. Reserved. Anything but the happiness he claimed to feel was eating away at him.

“We’re almost done.” A bit of encouragement on Yaga’s part to continue. He then shifted the focus of his questioning to Choso. “Your situation is a different matter entirely. And given the relationship you share with Yuji… How are you here when you and the other Death Paintings should be secured behind Master Tengen’s barrier? If there is a security breach we are unaware of, I need to know.”

The Death Paintings were not the only things stored in the warehouse behind Tengen’s barrier. Not only were a few of Sukuna’s fingers currently in the school’s possession, but other tools and objects as well. Many of which were best left where they were rather than to fall into the hands of anyone. Whether deemed the right hands or not.

“The breach was not done through normal means. A special grade curse was able to detect the cursed energy from the warehouse and follow it through the maze-like barrier preventing most intruders from ever reaching their target. At the time, his goal was to retrieve Sukuna’s fingers, but myself and two of my brothers were stolen as well.”

“And after that, you were incarnated into human hosts?” Yaga inquired further.

“Regrettably, that is the process in which I was granted an autonomous form. The soul of this body has long since left, leaving myself as its sole occupant.” Neither the sorcerer nor his brother passed judgment. What was done, was done. 

“I see. If the breach was a unique case, then how do the two of you believe you’ll be able to cross through the barrier this time? Reaching Tengen is not as simple as a casual stroll. Only those invited are allowed to enter.”

Choso’s thought quickly about how he should answer. Revealing his own ability to navigate the barrier may mark him as a threat more than he already was. But, his brother had already made an effort to hide as little as possible from Satoru’s instructor which led the curse to do the same.

“Through a side effect of my curse technique, I can sense the remains of my siblings stored within your warehouse. I planned to use that connection as a means to guide our path.” 

“What happens when you reach our warehouse on your way to Master Tengen?”

This was a test. Yuji’s intentions when meeting Master Tengen were an open book. Choso’s intentions, while obvious to himself, are harder for others to assume. It was only natural to be wary of a curse. Whether it be a spirit, object or being that did not quite fit into either category entirely. His brother housed a curse, but was human in every definition that mattered. Choso was incompatible with those definitions as well. His origins and physical nature removed him from the populace of sorcerers and non-sorcerers alike. 

Right now, any trust he garnered was through Yuji.

“Nothing. As much as it pains me to leave my siblings in their current state, acting on my desire would not assist in my little brother’s wishes. If returning to our time is possible, I will see to reuniting with them when the opportunity allows it as I will not abandon them indefinitely. My current responsibility is to Yuji, first and foremost.”

Upon receiving Choso’s answer, Yaga looked the two over once more. The man’s frown did not align with his acceptance of what he heard.

“I can always sympathize with someone who understands the importance of family, unconventional as they come these days. It is because of that, that I will ask both of you to hold off on attempting to visit Master Tengen. Their importance to Jujutsu society and its safety is not something I will take lightly, and any rumors of visitors will find their way to the elders in one form or another. I am not barring you from meeting with them entirely. Master Tengen may very well be the only one capable of providing the answers you seek. I only ask as the acting head of this school, that we take this one day at a time until we work out the best way to accomplish this.”

Choso found the man’s request acceptable, even if the delay of their visit could not be measured. 

Immediately marching down to the tomb Master Tengen resided at this very moment was not their plan. But their search for answers would best be done sooner than later, which made this ordeal a tricky one to navigate. As time passed for them here, there was no telling how that correlated to the length of their absence in the future they left behind. Would a couple of hours or even a day remaining idle hold the same consequence as several? Until the many mysteries surrounding their displacement were brought to light, no one could say for certain.

Yuji agreed with him.

“That makes sense. I don’t know if it is a good idea to wait too long, but I don’t think a few days will hurt. I’m grateful to you and sensei for listening to everything we’ve said, so if there is a better way to meet Master Tengen than just popping in uninvited, we should go with that.” His brother had turned to Choso near the end, as if to placate his unspoken concern.

“Then it’s settled. In the meantime, you both are welcome to continue staying in the school’s guest house as many of our active sorcerers tend to find their own means of living arrangements outside the campus when visiting. Satoru’s cover story for Yuji’s status as a transfer student, as bare as it is, can be used if required, but proper registration will be avoided. I’d ask you both to avoid leaving the building as much as possible, but something tells me that someone may have other plans. Don’t make a scene that would warrant your identification getting checked.”

That someone must be Satoru.

“Yes, sir.” Yuji raised a hand against his head in salute.

“As for Choso, revealing your nature as a Death Painting, like Yuji’s revealing his status, would cause just as many problems and raise too many questions that won't be allowed to go unanswered. If anyone pokes beyond you being his older brother, you are a unique curse bound to Yuji, and that is all. No need for elaboration.”

“Is the duty of an older sibling to take care of the younger not a binding vow in itself?” Choso bowed, accepting the terms for their temporary living arrangements.

“I’ll see you both back to where my students thought they could hide you.” Yaga signaled their time within this hall to an end, moving to his feet with Yuji and Choso to follow him on their way out. “There should be spare clothes in one of the dressers. T-shirts and pants. Nothing fancy, but when you need to change out of a ragged uniform while waiting for a replacement. If either of you knows your size, I can get something made overnight.”

“You don’t—”

“—Your offer is appreciated.” 

Choso cut Yuji off before his brother could finish his thought. A proper change of clothes was nothing to take for granted. 

“I believe Yuji’s shirt size is a…” His brother swatted away Choso’s hand from pulling back his collar to check for the correct response.

“Medium for the shirt. Large for the jacket. It'll be more comfortable over the— Yaga-san?”

The man in front stopped walking after his name was called, looking back to find Yuji tugging at the sleeves of his hoodie.

“Is there any way I can get my hoodie stitched up? Possibly fill in a few holes? If it’s not too much to ask?”

“I can get a new one made for you.” Yaga’s offer of replacement was declined.

“I don’t want to sound ungrateful, but I don’t want a new one. This one fits perfectly and um, I’ve had it for a while.” Sinking further into his hoodie, Yuji quietly added “I’m not ready to let go of it just yet.”

His brother’s objection to a replacement was based on sentiment. Sentiment the man understood.

“Fixing a hoodie like that won’t be a problem. Leave it with me tonight, and I’ll see to it along with a replacement uniform. It may take a bit longer than the rest to get sorted, but it will get done.”

Content, Yuji smiled. He gave the man his thanks and the three of them continued their return trip to the guest house. Shorter than the previous walks across campus, the knowledge of the school’s terrain and the amicable atmosphere between the acting principal and the two brothers made the experience easier to endure. 

When they reached their temporary living quarters, Yaga showed Choso where to find the spare clothes and other amenities behind the doors neither of them had yet to poke around behind. The man was also sure to note the barren kitchen while muttering about the messy placement of the chairs, promising to send someone out to solve the food situation in the morning. 

Before leaving but after Yuji had relinquished his hoodie to the instructor, Choso overheard one last request from the man as they both stood by the entrance, prompting the curse to lean against the closest wall and observe the two in silence.

“May I see the photo again?”

Yuji eagerly pulled his cell phone from his back pocket, happy to indulge the man’s request until the phone was clicked on. His brother hesitated for a brief second, frowning before shaking the feeling off and bringing up the same picture from before. This time, the device remained in his hand.

“A second-year? And these are his classmates?”

“Yeah! That’s Maki-senpai and Inumaki-senpai.” His brother hovered a finger over the screen to designate who each person was. “Okkotsu-senpai is in their class too, but he was overseas when I enrolled, so I don’t have any photos of him. The second-years are all pretty close.”

“I think I know that kid. Inumaki… Toge. He’s a cursed speech user. His family has already made plans to enroll him in the school when he comes of age. The girl, Maki, looks familiar too.” Yaga brushed a thumb against his eye, wiping away the cracks in his stoic persona. “How did you know I’ve been keeping Panda a secret from them?”

“I guessed.” Yuji shrugged. “If you wanted to tell them, you’d show them yourself. There are some things that just aren’t my place to share.”

“How is he? After everything that’s happened?”

“Alive. We haven’t run into each other since the attack, but I know Panda-senpai is surviving. He’s tough like that.” 

“As he should be. I plan to teach him everything I can.” A promise said in earnest. 

The man left them in higher spirits after that, bidding farewell and a good night before leaving Yuji to stand alone on the front steps to wave him off. 

His brother’s cell phone was still in his hand, lingering on the image even as he retreated inside when Yaga was fully out of view. Yuji came to a stop right in front of Choso, rapidly flicking his thumb across the screen until satisfied enough to lift the device in front of his older brother’s unsuspecting face and click the screen once more.

Choso raised a silent eyebrow, asking for Yuji to elaborate on what he did.

“I don’t have any photos of you.” Yuji shut the screen off, but he continued to hold the device as if it were on in his hands. “I probably should have asked first. If you want me to delete it—”

“Keep it. But if you feel inclined to take another, please let me know, so I may pose appropriately.” His answer appeared to settle his brother’s nerves. “There is a bathroom down the hall. I suggest you be the one to use it first before we change into fresh clothes.”

“Are you saying I stink?”

“We both do.” Neither one had much time to rest in the aftermath of Shibuya, let alone enjoy the amenities of a functioning bathroom with flowing water. Choso was in no rush, but rid themselves of the dirt and blood that had seeped into their clothes as something he happily looked forward to. “I believe there are towels in the closet leading up to it?”

“Found them!”

Yuji shook the towel in the air as proof, slinking into the bathroom and out of Choso’s sight for a short period of time. The sound of running water and the occasional shuffling of his brother’s feet continued to notify Choso that he was still close by, granting the curse enough peace of mind to search for the spare clothes Yaga mentioned and leave them by the door for a sheepish Yuji to grab after his long shower was complete.

A fair bit of steam exited the bathroom alongside Yuji as he returned to the hall, apologizing for wasting so much hot water when it was unneeded. Instead of pointing that out, Choso nodded and accepted his brother’s words as it was not the time to scold him on his self-perception. After everything that had transpired, his brother deserved as long of a shower as he wanted.

Now his turn to clean up, Choso closed the door behind him as his brother had. Removing his clothes was not so much a problem as it was calling the remains of his outfit clothes a gross overstatement. More akin to loosely connected rags, Choso untangled what he could, hoping to preserve the outfit, only to give up halfway and toss what was left to the floor. The next task required navigating the shower itself, slightly different in design from the others he’d witnessed during his and Yuji’s time wandering, but the same design principle lent itself to be figured out easily enough. 

There was no steam when the water finally came out. Choso only flinched at the immediate sensation of liquid running down his back, soon growing numb to the cold. He failed to see the point in changing the temperature when his body could regulate itself. His focus was best used to assess himself for damages, relieved to find that his wounds had since closed themselves and any evidence he’d ever been hurt would remain as light scarring. From there, he took to washing his hair and going through the motions his body knew from the previous owner. Muscle memory walking the curse through the necessary steps, surely mimicking what his brother had done until thoroughly rinsed, and it was time to step out and dry himself off.

Choso considered himself fortunate that the clothes he picked out fit as well as they had been expected too. Tighter than his usual garments, he’d make do with what was offered as nothing felt too constricting to have an issue with.

He left the bathroom still wringing out the water intent on clinging to his hair to find the hallway empty. Mildly concerned, only a few steps were needed to peer into the bedroom Satoru had offered them when they first arrived.

The curse found his brother sitting on the floor, back resting against the side of the bed, cell phone once again in his hands. Choso let his presence go unannounced, curiously watching Yuji as he grew tempted to click on the screen, only to withdraw right as he was about to follow through.

His brother did this two more times before Choso felt the need to speak.

“Is something wrong?”

Yuji shook his head, eyes still focused on the device in his hand even as Choso moved to sit down on the ground beside him. Something was wrong and Choso would not deny it. He waited in silence, doing nothing to provoke or push his brother to speak when Yuji would eventually do so himself.

Awkward was a far better state to be in than anger.

“I… It’s dumb.” His brother stopped, shaking his head again before he made another attempt to share what was on his mind. “I’m not… I wasn’t the type to take photos before my grandfather... before he died.” 

Choso knew very little about his brother’s family, less about the man who raised him. But he silently mourned the loss nonetheless.

“I preferred to live in the moment. Enjoy the present. Taking pictures was never on my mind, but after I lost him, I started taking photos of everyone I met. Places I’ve gone to. If there is enough storage on the phone, I’ll record what I can and then upload it to the computer in my dorm.” Yuji fiddled with the cell phone again, a developing nervous habit as he weighed his next decision in his mind before forcing himself to turn the screen on and place it between them. 

The image on the home screen was of a street Choso did not recognize. It wasn’t until his brother pointed at the upper corner did he realize the photo wasn’t the cause of his gloom, but a number on display above it. 

“I have pictures of almost everyone I know from before—When things were different. I didn’t bring a charger with me when we got zapped to the past, and since Sensei had bought me the newest model for me to use, any chargers they sell in this time won’t work. My phone’s battery is already below half, see? Thirty-five percent. When it reaches zero, my phone dies.” Yuji shut the device off and pulled away, tucking his legs in to rest his chin on his knees until he took up as little space as possible. 

“If my phone dies, they’re gone… And I lose them all over again.”

Trapped in a state of limbo, his brother was yearning for those who had been left behind. But his search for comfort would only drain the battery faster. Does he look for them now, or later?  

“See, it’s… What if I can’t see them again? What if I forget?” Yuji looked down at his phone again, disappointed. “Look at me, getting all worked up over a stupid phone.”

But it wasn’t just his brother’s phone. There was a very real possibility that the two of them would remain in this time— in this place —with too many unresolved threads in the future they are no longer a part of. Even if they live through the next decade together, it is not as simple as reliving the same life experiences a second time. Inevitably, there will be change. That was the reason behind sharing so much of what they knew.

Choso understood his brother’s fears. While brief, his time with Eso and Kechizu was something he held dear to his heart. Their memory ingrained too deep. He refused to believe himself capable of losing the one piece of them he had left.

“You do not need your pictures to remember those you care about. You won’t forget.”

“You don’t know that!” Yuji snapped, gripping his phone tighter. “My memory has never been something to brag about, but somehow, this pit in my stomach is telling me it's gotten worse. What if I forget how many spikes are in Fushiguro’s hair or what Kugisaki sounds like when she’s angry? Or the times all three of us could spend our days off together? I can’t—”

“Then tell me, and I’ll remember for you.” 

His brother stilled, but his breath continued to rise and fall rapidly underneath his shirt, unable to calm down entirely.

“Oral tradition has passed countless stories throughout human history. If you would like to share what you want to remember, then the memory will live on inside both of us. You don’t have to carry it alone.”

It took Yuji a minute to grasp what Choso was offering. Longer still to let his full weight settle against the bed, eyes flickering between his cell phone, the ceiling and anywhere else in between, unable to settle on one thing in particular. 

He then placed his phone on the ground beside him. 

“I taught Fushiguro how to cook. Very simple things, since that’s really all I know how to make since I spent a lot of time cooking for myself at home, and we were on a budget. He’s a fast learner. I heard from Kugisaki that he made the meatballs I showed him while I was away all on his own!” There was pride in his brother’s words.

“You must have been a great teacher.”

“I wouldn’t say that. Fushiguro kept saying I wasn’t explaining everything straightforward enough, and I was demonstrating too fast. We had to start over a few times until we got the rhythm right. So much extra food.” 

The thought alone must have clued his brother in to his own hunger, his stomach growling a mere second after he spoke. Choso found the plastic bag he’d been provided at the convenience store still on the bed stand within his reach. While most of its contents were gone, the chocolate bar he’d purchased earlier was still wrapped amongst the plastic.

“Here.”

His brother accepted the treat, lingering on before snapping the bar in half, then tearing the package open at the oddest angle. The end product was two halves, each with a bit of wrapper to hold on to while being eaten, one shoved back into Choso’s hand without room for objection. 

Why Yuji continued to do this, Choso couldn’t say, but he bit into the sugar-laden treat in the same fashion his brother had. His dulled taste buds were still overwhelmed by the sweet taste. Yuji made no complaints, so neither did he.

“I, um, know you probably don’t like Kugisaki for what happened but, she’s a good person.” His brother mumbled. It had been easy to forgive Yuji for the unfortunate events leading to the loss of their brothers. A misunderstanding was to blame and Yuji was family. Kugisaki was not. Yet, she was Yuji’s friend, and while it was much harder to overlook her actions, forgiveness would come in time. “She would take us shopping and show me a lot of cool ways to save money with store memberships and coupons. I never figured out how she had the time to keep track of everything, but she always said it was worth it. I think Maki-senpai got roped into helping her. She’s really strong. And intimidating. We never got around to testing how the two of us compare, but she’d probably kick my ass. Kugisaki was never scared of her though.”

“Maki is the girl in the photo you showed Yaga?” Choso asked, committing the image to memory as best he could.

“Yup.” Yuji swallowed the last bite of his candy bar. His shoulders have since relaxed, his body leaning off a bit to one side. “I wish I got to talk to my senpais more. I didn’t know my senpai’s at my old school as well as I’d liked either. We were a part of the same club, but I always left the moment we ended to visit my grandfather. I tried to keep in touch, but after a while, messaging out of the blue felt weird. I hope they are doing well.”

“I’m sure they are.”

“I know you’re just saying that to make me feel better.” A yawn escaped despite Yuji’s attempt to stop it. The empty wrapper in his hand was shoved in his pocket, a second yawn appearing just in time for his freed hand to cover his mouth in a desperate bid to hide his tired face. Hidden or not, his brother still fell against Choso’s shoulder either way, using his upper arm as a pillow to rest his head.

“You should try to sleep again.”

“I’m good…” Yuji nuzzled closer, one foot already stepping into unconsciousness as he continued to mutter more things that came to mind. “This one time, Nanamin brought me to a bakery and the girl working the counter knew him. He used to be a regular. Bought the same sandwich each day. He enjoys baking… I-I asked him to show me how to make the pastries we bought. I don’t even r-remember what they were called…”

His brother’s voice faded out, returning only when a few rogue droplets of water dripped down Choso’s arm. The curse had thought it to be some he’d missed with his towel, or a few escaping from his brother’s hair, but the trail down Yuji’s cheek said otherwise.

“I miss him.”

Yuji passed out as the last word fell and the breath he’d been choking on was released. Choso remained motionless for a time, wishing for his brother’s peaceful rest without disturbance from anyone. Be it himself, or the curse bound within him. He’d considered moving Yuji to the bed proper once he felt his brother’s body go limp against him, but as his fear of ruining the moment kept him from doing so.

Instead, with what little movement Choso could afford, he made sure his brother was comfortable where he was before his own eyes sought to close as well. Sleep as Yuji knew it was not the same for Choso. A brief period when his body and spirit would slow, vaguely aware of the outside world as he drifted with nothing but his own thoughts accompanying him. It was a familiar state of being with over a century of practice.

As unnerving as it was to experience after his freedom was granted, having his little brother by his side was enough to endure it. There was no telling what the next day would bring and Choso was determined to be at his best for what was yet to come. 

When Choso next opened his eyes, it was to an absurdly bright assault of morning light, flooding in from the window to their backs and bouncing off the walls, persistent on making contact. 

Instinct drove his body to move, but Choso restrained himself from doing so when the weight on his arm reminded him that his current position was a crucial one. A quick look confirmed that his brother was still asleep, having fallen closer into Choso’s lap in the time he was missing.

Unaware of how much time could have possibly passed in what had felt to be no more than minutes, possibly an hour, the light was proof enough that the night had come and gone while Choso’s eyes were unable to perceive it. He was almost inclined to believe that he and his brother had skipped through time a second time, if the more obvious explanation for his unconscious state was his body’s reaction to being pushed to its limit for days on end.

This was the first proper rest either of them had the luxury to afford.

“Yuji-kun!”

And now it was over.

Satoru’s voice served as a prelude to his arrival, accompanied by the trample of eager feet, unable to comprehend the very definition of patience as the entrance to their quarters was shoved open. A couple more steps, and the excited teenager was panting in the door, a bundle of what had probably been neatly folded clothes were scrunched under his arm, his glasses threatening to fall off the tip of his nose as he stared at the two brothers still on the floor.

“Rise and shine—Why are you two on the floor? Did you fall asleep like that? That’s hilarious!” As Satoru laughed aloud, the older teenager’s antics caused Yuji to stir, pressing his face further into Choso’s arm to avoid the light beckoning him to awaken.

“Sensei… It’s too early…” 

Yuji’s muffled whine did nothing to deter Satoru from his visit, stepping forward and squatting down beside them to joyously present the clothes in his hands.

“But I have come bearing gifts!” Satoru argued, looking at Choso as if the curse would assist him in forcing his brother awake. Reluctant as he was to take part, there was no stopping what was already in motion. 

Choso patted his brother’s head, coaxing him out of the remains of his slumber before nudging him to sit up in a more proper manner. Honeyed eyes full of sleep greeted them, wincing at the light and then blinking several times before Yuji could even acknowledge the scene before him. 

Shock. Confusion. Acceptance.

Yesterday’s events came back to his brother quickly, but not quick enough for the array of emotions to each take their turn before he settled on greeting Satoru with his best attempt at matching the older teenager’s energy. 

“I’m awake!” Yuji declared, the sudden spike in energy dropping fast as he slouched forward, eyes falling on the stack of clothes before him. “What’s this?”

“New uniforms! I braved an absurdly long lecture from Yaga over the importance of accountability and something else I’m sure I’ll remember if it comes up—” Choso wanted to believe this was Satoru’s way of avoiding the details of their discussion, but he could not say for sure. “The point is, you both are officially my problem. You’re welcome!”

“Sorry to have to put you through all this, sensei.”

“Hey! No! You’re supposed to say thank you!” Satoru poked Yuji’s forehead. The action was not meant to cause harm, instead acting as a playful way of scolding. The older teenager did not care for Yuji’s guilt-ridden attitude either, making his position clear in his own right. “Now get changed. We have to sort out this breakfast situation and grocery shopping isn’t my style, so we’re going to make use of the school’s dining hall.”

“That seems ill-advised, given our current circumstances. Your sensei stressed that we avoid unnecessary trouble.” Choso’s caution did not appear to get through to Satoru, receiving a hum in response.

“It’s not unnecessary. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day.” The older teenager’s eyes flickered over to the plastic wrapper Choso had left on the floor. “I’m sure we’ll be able to whip up something much more filling than a convenience store chocolate bar anyway. We’ll be in and out.” 

“If you say so.” Yuji conceded for both of them, accepting the new uniform from Satoru and clamoring to his feet. He was sure to scoop up the cell phone he’d tossed aside, unwilling to leave it behind. “I’ll go change in the bathroom. I’ll be quick.”

“Take your time.” Satoru called out after Yuji disappeared down the hall. He balanced a second uniform in one hand, dropping it into Choso’s lap just before they both left the floor behind. “We had some pre-existing uniforms modified rather than starting from scratch. Doesn’t match your outfit from before completely and Yaga guessed your size, but it should be usable.”

“You did not have to do this for me, but thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” About to leave the room temporarily for privacy's sake, Satoru stopped before he reached the hall. “Yaga filled me in on the current plan. I also caught him up on some key details about the Sukuna situation— Only what he needed to know. How’s Yuji holding up?”

“He is enduring.”

“Not good enough.” Hissed under his breath, Satoru’s comment came out harsher than he may have expected. Not that Choso would take offense to it.

“I agree.” 

Choso thought back to last night, the memory of his brother’s distress unsettling him as he could do little to undo the dying battery of his brother’s phone. It was too early to say if his request for Yuji to share stories of those he cared for had done more than just upset him further. However, now that Satoru was present, perhaps the older teenager had greater insight into these matters of technology than he did.

“While we have a moment, may I ask a request on my little brother’s behalf? If it is not something you can do, you do not have to fulfill it.”

A raised eyebrow meant Choso had acquired the older teenager’s attention. 

“I’ll have you know, I can do anything I put my mind to. What is it?”

“Yuji’s cell phone is dying, and he fears that because he has no charger from our time to prevent it from shutting down completely, he’ll no longer have access to the images stored within the device. They bring him a comfort I don’t believe I am able to provide. If you know of another way to resuscitate his cell phone or retrieve the images from it in some capacity, I would be most grateful.”

 Satoru coughed down a laugh, smiling through the fist covering his lips.

“Right, uh, I don’t think CPR is going to help here. The good news is, unless technology has changed drastically over the next decade, his phone should have some kind of memory chip or card or whatever inside holding all the data for those photos he took. Data is data. It shouldn't be too hard to get a hold of if I find the right guy…”

“You’ll do it?”

“Obviously. I’ll put some feelers out to see what our options are. There is no way in hell I’m not seeing whatever dirty laundry sensei was so adamant on hiding.” An ulterior motive. Why Satoru was interested in Yaga’s laundry was beyond him, but as long as Yuji benefited from this, Choso saw no reason to reject the older teenager’s offer. “And it will as it make Yuji feel better, right?”

“What about me?” Said focus of their talk peeked his head inside the room, confused why Choso had yet to change into the clothes given to him. “You’re not changed.”

“I am doing so now.”

“And I’ll leave you to it.” 

The combined efforts of Choso and Satoru’s answers alongside Yuji’s tired mind ended the topic there. Quick to catch up with his brother, Choso swapped out his current outfit for the provided uniform, skipping over assessing the garment itself until it was already draped over his body. Immediately, the curse could tell that everything fit much better than what he’d worn overnight. And the small hanging mirror on the wall assisted in providing Choso the full picture of how it looked.

Yuji’s outfit was a close replica of his previous one, minus the hoodie that needed further repair. Choso’s top was the same as his brothers, differing in the loose style of his sleeves and baggy pants, mirroring the robes he arrived in. To differentiate himself further from the similar style he was now sharing with Suguru—an unintentional, yet off-putting revelation—Choso made sure to retrieve his scarf on his way to catching up with the two waiting for him by the guest house steps. He decided to tie his hair up during their walk.

Satoru bounced along on their way to the dining hall, leaving Choso to guide Yuji’s steps until his brother was aware enough to walk on his own. The building they were heading to was too close to the rest of the student dorms for Choso’s liking. But to their benefit, the older teenager’s early wake-up call meant the building suited to house and feed an impressive number of people was deserted upon their arrival. According to his brother, the sheer size of the room was not even necessary, the number of people on campus at any given time would barely fill the hall to fifty-percent capacity. Sorcerers were rare, students were rarer. 

With all the room the two could possibly ask for, Yuji and Choso sat at the counter embedded in the wall which divided the kitchen from the rest of the hall. They observed Satoru stumbling around for what ended up being a large pan, a carton of eggs, and the knowledge required to turn the stovetop on to accomplish the goal he had in mind.

The older teenager places his hands on his hips, thinking to himself before snapping his fingers and flicking one of the dials in front of him, satisfied with the circle of flames lighting up in response.

“I’m going to cook you a five-star breakfast! No payment required. It will put that convenience store crap to shame!” Confident, Satoru placed the frying pan over the fire and worked on cracking a few eggs in a very dubious manner.

Yuji rested his head on the table, unable to watch the scene before him.

“Sensei can’t cook.”

“I heard that!” His brother’s whispers were caught, yet unable to knock the wind from Satoru’s sails. “I’m about to prove you wrong! We’re rewriting fate on this day.”

An undesirable odor hit Choso’s nose seconds after the declaration. His brother smelled it too, forcing him to lift his head and peer over to see what Satoru was doing. 

“Sensei the eggs are burning! How high did you put the heat!?”

“Shit!” The older teenager quickly shut the heat off and tossed the charred eggs in the nearby garbage bin. Satoru did not look their way when he attempted to cover his misjudgment. “That was just a test run!”

“Sure—”

“Please tell me that the kitchen isn’t burning down. I’m starving!”

A new voice echoed through the hall, one Choso was unfamiliar with. Both Yuji and himself spun around in their seats to find a student with short, messy dark-brown hair sticking up at odd ends walking toward them. His eyes were partially closed due to the long yawn he made while stretching his arms.

“Good morning Geto-senpai—” The newcomer cut himself off the moment we opened his eyes in full, blinking twice before realizing he’d been mistaken. “Neither of you are Geto-senpai.”

“Astute observation, Haibara!” Satoru poked his head between the two brothers, pointing his spatula at Yuji from above his head. “This is our new first-year, Yuji, and his very protective big brother.”

“First… year?” The newcomer— Haibara —looked the pair over, undoubtedly put off by two strangers, one of whose cursed energy would surely register as suspicious no matter how Choso worked to hide it. 

Contrary to his assumption, however, Choso did not witness Haibara rethink his approach or look to Satoru for clarification. Only a wide smile prevailed and a sudden burst of energy prevailed on Haibara’s face.

“That’s amazing!” Happily moving closer, Haibara jumped into the chair beside Yuji to greet him, taking both of his brother’s hands into his own to shake them more than a standard greeting was required. “We haven’t had any new students enroll this year until now!” 

“Uh, yeah. That’s me. A first-year.” Yuji faintly echoed.

“Do you have a curse technique? If so, what is it? Can you show me? And what grade sorcerer are you—”

“Give him some space, will you? And quit it with the interrogation!” Satoru threatened to hit Haibara on the head with the spatula still in his hand. His objection to the newcomer’s questions was ironic, given Satoru’s series of inquiries the day before.

“I’m sorry! I’m so excited! I should probably introduce myself first.” Yuji’s hands were freed as Haibara pointed to himself with his thumb. “I’m Haibara Yu! A second-year.”

Choso did not recognize the name. From what he could tell, nor did his brother.

“Itadori Yuji. You already know my year. This is Choso.” The curse nodded when he was introduced, receiving a curt nod in return from the second-year. “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise!”

A few awkward glances were exchanged after the initial greeting, the air going silent as no one knew exactly what to speak of next after Satoru had shut down Yu’s initial line of questioning. It was during this brief silence did Satoru squint at the pair sitting next to one another, tilting his head at Yuji specifically. 

“You two don’t already know each other?” The thought came out before Satoru could stop himself. His own unchecked need for answers aside, now was not the time for such questions. Sorcerers were a rarity in relation to the populace, but that did not mean Yuji had to be acquainted with every one of them. It should not be too shocking that there will be people his brother has yet to meet in their time.

“Obviously! We just met! You’re so weird, Gojo-senpai.” Yu was the first to respond. Lucky for them, he saw his senpai’s behavior as nothing more than a part of his usual mannerisms and brushed the question off entirely. “And why are you in the kitchen? Is that why it smells so bad?”

“You can’t make an omelet without burning a few eggs.”

“Yes, you can. You don’t even have all the ingredients out— I’m taking over.” Yu rolled up the sleeves of his jacket before Satoru could object, claiming the kitchen the older teenager had been in the process of desecrating. An apron was grabbed from off the rack on the wall, with a second one to be thrown at the older teenager still standing on his side of the counter. Satoru wasn’t kicked out, simply urged to follow the proper way of handling food preparation as his underclassman demonstrated.

“Would you like us to help too, Haibara-san? You don’t have to cook for us—”

Yu, having dove headfirst in the fridge, raised a hand out to stop Yuji from saying anything further before returning with a handful of additional ingredients to prepare with a quick wash prior to their placement on the counter.

“Haibara-senpai! ” The second-year’s eyes lit up with pride. “I’m a senpai now! So much responsibility…” 

Yu inhaled through his nostrils, sucking in his emotions as he retrieved a cutting board and knife without the need to search all over as his upperclassman had. Cutting the onions first did not prevent the waterworks from forming in his eyes.

“I’m going to be the best senpai you ever had. That’s a promise!”

“Um, hello, have you met me? I’m right here.” Satoru’s objection was met with immediate pushback, even as he tried to assist the second-year by mimicking the way Yu was cutting the onion to cut his own. His technique was poor. His fingers uncurled, unbothered by how many times he struck the Limitless shielding him in place of the vegtable in his hand. “That’s literally impossible.”

“No, it isn’t! Besides, it’s the second-years who should look after the first-years, and the third-years focus on the second-years! Yuji-kun is mine!”

“Too bad, I already claimed him!”

“Go back to bothering Nanami! He misses you!”

There it was again.

That name— Nanami. 

Choso shifted his eyes from the bickering students to his brother, his growing concern justified when he saw Yuji flinch in his seat. The hands that his brother kept in his lap were now gripping the edge of his seat, revealing the truth behind the face Yuji was determined to keep unresponsive.

“Yeah right!” Satoru pouted into Yu’s shoulder, whining into the second-year’s ear. “Between you and me, I don’t think he respects all that much… Ah! Speak of the devil!”

Another presence could be felt behind them, and with a slight tilt of Choso’s neck, he could confirm the arrival of another student, who he inferred was Nanami. Blond hair combined with an exhausted scowl was found on his face, not keen on being referred to in such a manner by anyone. Especially the one who shouted it across the room. 

“Who in their right mind let Gojo-senpai in the kitchen? And who are these two…?”

Right as Nanami’s eyes fell to Choso, Yuji shoved himself away from the counter and flew to his feet, hands threatening to splinter the wood from the intensity of his grip.

“I’m sorry. I need to go to the restroom!” His brother’s head remained facing the floor, refusing to look up even to see where he was going, remaining that way until he cleared out of the room entirely.

Choso was too late in grabbing him, his empty hand left hanging in the air as he stared toward where his brother had gone. Satoru, however, did not remain as complacent.

“Yuji!” 

The knife that was in the older teenager’s hand clattered against the counter as he slammed it down, abandoning the prospect of breakfast in exchange for giving chase. Just as Satoru broke through the kitchen doors, the curse raised a hand out to stop him, undaunted by the rising spike of cursed energy Satoru was giving off.

“He requires space.”

Not every encounter was going to be an easy one.

“But—” The older teenager did not appreciate being stopped. Aware of how he’ll react, Choso was quick to point out his reasoning.

“He won’t stray too far. Let’s give him a few minutes before setting out to retrieve him.” After retracting his hand, Choso continued. “If you still wish to go, I won’t stop you.”

“I—” Satoru clenched his teeth, shoving his glasses further up his nose than necessary before glancing around the room, slowly putting together the implications of Yuji’s reaction. A curse hissed then followed under his breath, furious at himself for considering the possibility sooner. “Fine. A few minutes. Breakfast will be ready for when he gets back. He’ll have to eat it cold if he takes too long.”

As Choso understood it, the fixation on breakfast over everything else was a way of coping. A distraction. A means to endure. His brother’s photos were another example of the phenomenon. And, in a way, the curse supposed his fixation on taking care of siblings was his own means of getting through all the challenges this life had and would still throw his way. They were his reason to keep his head clear and remain steadfast in his self-appointed goal to see to their wellbeing, as well as his own to ensure he could continue his efforts as long as he was needed.

In this world of sorcerers, cursed spirits, and the powers that bound them, coping— whether it be through distractions or through purpose —was necessary to maintain the drive required to survive the path they walked. 

Despite the pain Yuji must be going through, Choso knew his brother would not be broken by it. Yuji had a sense of purpose and a desire to see it through, as much as it saddened the curse to know where that purpose would ultimately take him.

Chapter Text

A door slammed shut, the impact reverberating through the walls and reaching Suguru’s ears as the rush of footsteps to follow came and went, pounding against the floor outside his dorm without any care for the others who shared in this building. Groaning, Suguru’s neck fell to the side, just far enough to catch a glimpse of the alarm clock on his bedside table. No matter what time the red-lit numbers displayed, it was too early for someone else’s impatience to dare wake him up from his sleep— if Suguru could even call it that.

The inability to fall sleep wasn’t the only problem Suguru continued to face night after night. Even if he managed to break past the barrier and shut his mind off, it never lasted for long. A proper, fulfilling rest remained out of his reach. He was preoccupied with one too many thoughts, but too exhausted to string a coherent through line between them, only serving as a pointless distraction than any means to cultivate an eye-opening revelation in the witching hours of the night.

Suguru’s head had collided with his unsupportive pillow and his eyes had closed shut, intent on tossing and turning all night until but mercy in the form of his body finally giving out under the weight of overtaxed limbs and a desperate need to shut down took him under.

Now awake, all Suguru could do was lie in bed and endure the taunting of being unable to return to such a state. Not that it appeared to do him any good. His pained arms and legs took ample energy to move. Energy that had not been replenished. The migraine from last night still pulsated under his forehead, growing more prominent anytime he shut his eyes tight or turned his head. 

How deceitful was it for others to claim rest held rejuvenating properties when all it did was worsen Suguru’s state in such a way he had to spend much of his morning recovering just to start his day.

Current circumstances only magnified Suguru’s ordeal further.

If he hadn’t been disturbed by the noise outside, Suguru would have attempted to convince himself, as futile an effort that would be, that the day prior had been nothing more than a fever dream. Stress could have been the blame— What a cop-out it was these days —but really, the chances of him deluding himself into such denial were minuscule.

Suguru saw the two time travelers with his own eyes, heard their tale with his own ears, and felt the very energy that radiated off them knock against his own. There was no more denying the words they were speaking. A truth so unbelievable Suguru had to remove himself from it, to go against his very nature to push back and scrutinize each detail as a potential falsehood just to accept the absurdity for what it was.

A future on the verge of falling apart.

Another set of footsteps— slower, more considerate —shuffled past Suguru’s door. Given who was currently on campus and who had already vacated the building, Haibara or Ijichi was responsible for the noise. Normally the order in which the students woke up would have been in reverse. Months, now years, of living on the same grounds left everyone with a routine of their own. 

Ever the impatient one, tradition would not get in Satoru’s way.

Perhaps it was time for Suguru to get up as well.

Shoving himself off the bed took a fair bit of effort, but with enough determination, Suguru now sat on the edge of his mattress with his feet against the ground. All that was left to do was stand up and start his routine, but all he could do was allow his shoulders to slouch, and his hair fall forward with the entangled mess urging him to move so that he may fix it. 

Suguru refused.

Sukuna’s incarnation. Satoru’s sealing. The Culling Game. Events that should not have occurred, will not occur if the right choices were made to avoid it. Who was to say what the right choices are? What path led to salvation? What actions granted a favorable outcome? And whose decisions would lead to an even greater calamity?

Make no mistake, Suguru did not wish for the future Itadori described to unfold a second time. It would be rather petty of him to consider it, but there was so much missing information that Suguru could not display the same optimism and confidence Satoru smothered himself in. 

It must be so easy, knowing the future that would have awaited you.

Selfishly, each time Itadori and that curse brother of his described the events they had been separated from, Suguru waited with bated breath to hear his name. The incident in Shibuya had not only required Satoru’s involvement, but another special grade sorcerer as well. And then a supposed third, with the arrival of the second-year student Okkotsu. With events unfolding the likes of which their era has never seen, it would be obvious to assume that all sorcerers were working to contain it. 

Suguru should have been there.

But not once did his name come up.

Why would that be the case? What circumstances would have kept him out of Itadori’s recollection of events? He was almost inclined to consider it purposeful, if his own rising anxiety of the truth he was so desperate for wasn’t threatening to gut him through upon receiving it. For what reason had the mere mention of his name become taboo?

There were plenty of reasons. The specifics were what mattered.

Like Satoru before him, Suguru first assumed he was dead or had faced death during the incident in Shibuya. Death was not an easy subject. To break the news of another’s death taking place far sooner than the lifetime one would hope to experience was a harrowing conversation in of itself. To wish to hide that knowledge, to spare others from mourning a life cut short when their own now had the potential to supersede it fit well into Suguru’s understanding of Itadori. 

It did not, however, completely align with the animosity in Itadori’s eyes. Such a reaction, especially when paired with the familiarity and fondness the younger teenager had for Satoru, continued to catch Suguru off-guard. With a number of explanations to explain why Itadori’s negative disposition remained so strong, Suguru found himself growing sicker with each one he humored enough to consider how it held up alongside the facts he had received so far.

What had the Suguru of Itadori’s time done to deserve such hate?

He wanted a clear answer to put this speculation of its misery. Yet, as hypocritical as it was, Suguru did not wish to hear said answer at all. Confirming his suspicions would not necessarily bring him peace. This was the future— his future. As much as Suguru would prefer to break himself away from the Suguru of the future, they were technically still one and the same. Or has Itadori’s appearance altered that? Was any of this as clear-cut as Satoru made it seem?

Was there anything for Suguru to fear at all?

What was the opinion of one person—a vessel—within the grand scheme of life?

Suguru found himself struggling to breathe in the confines of his dorm. A sudden push was all he needed to shove himself off the bed, eyes fixated on the door to his bathroom as nausea worked its way up his throat, only to be forcefully shoved back down.

Clean up. Look presentable. Get out.

The teenager stripped, showered, and dried in record time, rushing the process to avoid any more unwelcome thoughts traipsing through his head. After tying his hair too tight with not enough care to rip the hairband out and try again, Suguru forced the rest of his clothes on and rushed out the door, coming to a halt the moment he was about to pick up speed as someone stood in his path to the last remaining barrier between him and the outside air he so desperately craved.

“Nanami, you’re back.” 

“Geto-senpai.” The aforementioned second-year nodded his head, acknowledging Suguru’s presence while his hand remained steady against the Haibara’s door. “This is unfortunate, Haibara requested that he be the first to know when I arrived, but he’s not answering. I better not get blamed for this.”

Suguru couldn’t help but shake his head. Nanami and Haibara’s relationship was odd. Being the only students in their year upon arrival, it made sense that the two would be close—they didn’t have much of a choice—but the differences in personality were striking. Haibara had enthusiasm to rival Satoru’s at times with an unwavering sense of optimism. A real socialite who had no trouble approaching others. Nanami was pragmatic, reserved, and kept to himself when given the choice. His focus was set on his work and his studies, yet at Haibara’s suggestion, it was quite easy for Nanami to deviate from his routine to make room for his classmate’s plans.

Case in point: Nanami was still carrying his bags, his weapon slumped over his shoulder as he passed his own dorm to reach Haibara’s first.

“You just missed him. I believe it was Haibara who passed my door earlier. If I had to guess—”

“—He went to the dining hall already.” Nanami finished Suguru’s sentence for him while checking his watch. “I’ll drop my things off and go catch up with him then. I assume this means his mission was successful? No injuries?”

“No lasting ones.” Suguru clarified as he followed the second-year down the hall. The two stopped at Nanami’s dorm, with the older teenager waiting in the doorway as his underclassman took care of his things. “Shoko made sure of that. I know Haibara will tell you all about it, but did you know they mislabeled the grade three he was sent to exorcise? It was a Semi-grade two.”

“Shit.” The curse echoed into the hall before Nanami could return, his things tossed aside to be dealt with at a later time. “He shouldn’t be—I told them splitting us up was a poor decision. Especially now. This is the second time I’ve had to deal with a mislabeled cursed spirit in the past three months. The ranking system is as old as this school. Identifying cursed spirits should not allow this much room for error.”

“Are you accusing the higher-ups of being incompetent?”

“Would that be worse than claiming they are doing this on purpose?” Nanami scowled underneath the hand rubbing his temples. “Everyone has been overworked more than usual. Overwork leads to errors in judgment. But in our line of work, we can’t afford errors. That costs the lives of sorcerers and non-sorcerers alike. They need to do better.”

When the two approached the doors leading outside, Nanami went first to hold the door open for Suguru behind him.

“That I can agree with. If it's any consolation, I haven’t received word on any new assignments yet. We might be entering a lull period if I didn’t just jinx it.” The older teenager raised his hand and half-heartedly knocked on the wood of the door frame as he passed underneath it.

“Geto-senpai, if you’re going to make the attempt to be optimistic, the least you could do is try to believe the words you are saying.”

And here Suguru thought he was putting on a convincing act.

“You got me.” Suguru shrugged. As long as cursed spirits exist— as long as monkeys exist —a sorcerer’s work was never done. “The missions are never-ending. There is no light at the end of this tunnel. Just work until the day you die.”

“Sounds like an office job. Only those provide guaranteed vacation days.” 

The path split only a few steps from the building. Nanami had already veered right, coming to a stop only when he sensed Suguru’s hesitation to follow him. 

“Will you not be joining us?”

“Later.” Suguru had lost his appetite weeks ago. Necessity drove him to eat, but he could avoid it longer if he wished. “I have something else to attend to first.”

A blatant lie. Suguru had nowhere to be. While he supposed that following up on the events of last night was a necessary task, his reluctance to dive into such discussion willfully led him to wander elsewhere, if only to avoid the inevitable just a bit longer.

“I understand. Be sure to avoid waiting too long. You’ll make extra trouble for the rest of us if we have to drag your body back.” The second-year was difficult to read. Always attentive, even if he didn’t care to show it in the traditional sense.

“I’ll keep that in mind. I would hate to inconvenience any of you.”

Suguru walked away before any more attempts could be made to convince him of backing out from his decision. Yet, as far away as Suguru got from his underclassman, Nanami’s word managed to keep pace alongside him.

They need to do better.

The system— the elders —didn’t need to do better. They needed to be uprooted from the ground and burned away entirely.  

But by Itadori’s word, Jujutsu Society hadn’t changed in the time between now and his. Sending first-years against a special grade? Sure, it was a cursed womb when reported, but they should have known it would produce a special grade in time. And to be forced to turn to Ryomen Sukuna for aid…

Nanami had mostly accused the higher-ups of such incompetency being a purposeful act in jest, but in Itadori’s case, he was hand-picked for that mission. Suguru was sure of it.

The elders wanted Sukuna dead.

A mission devolving into something beyond their student’s control. That was one way to go about getting around Satoru’s watchful eye without forcing their direct hand. The elders would claim ignorance. Then mercy. Itadori wouldn’t have to suffer through being a vessel any longer, all the while knowing full well what strings they had pulled to ensure all the pieces fell just right. The thought alone disgusted him.

Suguru was left to wonder how Itadori hadn’t sought to lash out for such actions. If everything Itadori spoke of was true, he not only continued on as a sorcerer but swayed someone higher up to provide a recommendation to be tested for the sorcerer rank of grade one. Even if earned, Suguru doubted the elders would go through and acknowledge it. 

Why continue working as a Sorcerer when all that awaited him was death? If not by the cursed spirits he fought, then by the very allies he worked alongside with an impatient faction unwilling to wait until the last finger was found and swallowed.

Living out of spite was the first answer that came to mind, but Suguru quickly dismissed it, his own mindset muddling his conclusion on someone who did not fit the explanation. The next thought to follow, however, fit all too well.

A sense of obligation.

Just as Itadori knew he was the only one who could suppress Sukuna, there was no reason that mindset didn’t bleed into everything else he did. To warn them of what was to come in hopes of saving the lives he already lost when no one else possessed the same chance? What difference was there in fighting cursed spirits when knowing it was only those who could possess and wield cursed energy were able to do so?

Suguru wanted to laugh. 

And he almost did.

With no one around, laughing at the air wouldn’t do any harm to Suguru’s crumbling image. He’d done well to hide his deterioration the best he could, but the signs were becoming more apparent as time went on. Then again, his care for how others saw him was slowly falling to the wayside as well. It was only a matter of time before he stopped caring entirely—

“His death was your fault, brat.”

Suguru’s feet came to a halt before his mind could register the unknown voice that chilled his veins and sent his nerves into a frenzy. The top of his body worked to catch itself before he could stumble further down one of the many paths he’d turned down on a mindless whim while preoccupied with a brain trapped in perpetual thought. Forced to look up and peer into the present world, Suguru’s eyes gazed upon a scene he had not been prepared to stumble across only meters ahead of him. 

Far from the main buildings, Itadori sat alone on the bench propped up against the edge of the stonework at their feet. His legs folded tight against his chest, hands holding them in place.

Suguru was left to rely on his peripheral vision to confirm that both Satoru and the curse usually by Itadori’s side were truly absent. His focus remained on the additional mouth of jagged teeth breaking through the younger teenager’s cheek, poking out where Itadori’s face could not when buried in his knees. 

Sukuna, in the flesh of another.

“I wonder how he’ll die this time?” Warped amusement laced the curse’s voice. “You don’t honestly believe you’ll prevent it, do you?”

“Shut up!” Itadori’s muffled growl escaped into the air. “I-It’s not going to happen—I’m going to stop it. N-Nanamin—Nanami won’t… It won’t happen.”

Nanami’s… dead?

Suguru’s heart accelerated as his mind rewound through the encounter he just had with his underclassman. Impossible. They just spoke. He would have felt the energy shift in the air. Nanami would not go down so easily, signs of a battle would have shown themselves—

Rationale soon caught up with Suguru’s mental spiral.

Itadori wasn’t referring to— despairing over —Suguru’s Nanami, but his.

Stuck in place, trapped in the pocket of silence that followed Itadori’s words, Suguru did not know what he should do. Itadori was alone. Common sense told him he shouldn’t leave the vessel of Sukuna alone like this. What little sympathy he still had ushered him to say something, but whatever options he had stuttered in his throat.

Humans die.

Sorcerers die.

More often than not, cursed spirits were to blame.

“That’s a troublesome curse you’re stuck with.”

Itadori jolted upward as soon as Suguru spoke, wobbling in his seat as he slammed a hand against Sukuna’s mouth, ignoring the pain it would bring to his cheek. 

“I-I— Geto-san!” The younger teenager stammered, hastily wiping the trails of tears still present on his face where his pants did not soak them up. It was when both hands were occupied with the task did Suguru see Itadori’s cheek return to its blank state. “He only comes out at the worst times… Mostly just talks in my head, if he talks at all. Not that I ever want to hear what he has to say.”

Suguru wasn’t blind to the possibility that Sukuna’s suppression did not equate to being sealed off from the world completely. Communication between the two was to be expected, but for Sukuna to appear now, seemingly to voice the intrusive thoughts Itadori already dealt with, was no different from pouring salt into an open wound. 

To do so now for all to hear, it was clear their relationship truly was of mutual destruction. If not the body, then the mind.

“Does he speak to you often?” Suguru braced himself and took a step forward. Then another, until he was dangerously close to approaching Itadori’s seat.

“Not always. Recently he’s gotten more interested in what’s going on, but he can’t do anything. I promise he’s just all talk—”

Suguru gestured for Itadori to stop.

“It’s fine.” 

The older teenager left it at that, going against his own instincts to sit on the half of the bench Itadori left empty. Only when he sat down did Suguru feel the tension in his legs, his muscles giving out the moment they weren’t needed in search of structure to hold themselves steady.

There was no going back now.

“I heard… about Nanami.” It should have been obvious, but Itadori’s eyes still widened at Suguru’s admittance. The younger teenager remained still in his seat, waiting for Suguru to follow up on his previous statement. “Were you two close?”

Had he known such a simple question would open the floodgates to so much more, Suguru still would have asked. Curiosity was pervasive like that. 

“Yeah. Nanamin— Nanami was, he was—” Itadori swallowed, working hard to regain his composure. “I never got to tell him this, but he was the closest thing to a dad I ever had.”

Oh.

That was not what Suguru was expecting to hear. As he’d learned of future Satoru’s and Itadori’s relationship, Suguru thought it safe to assume that Nanami may have held a similar role, not as a teacher but as another senior sorcerer to turn to. Or at the very least, held a positive relationship with Itadori to warrant his mourning. Never once did Suguru consider their relationship to be a quasi-familial one. Nanami never appeared to be the type to tolerate children.

“I know it’s weird—As I said yesterday, I never knew my parents. The old man, my grandfather, did his best. And I’ll never complain about how he raised me, but when I met Nanami, I finally felt… like I had missed out on something.” Itadori’s chest rose and fell. The edges of his sleeves were pulled down into his hands, tucked under his fingers to make wiping his face easier. “He was my mentor. I didn’t think we’d get along at first, being so different from sensei. Nanami’s so serious, yet unbelievably kind all the same. I… Did you—No, you wouldn’t know.”

“Know what?” Suguru forced his voice to remain soft, fighting back the immediate demand for further explanation behind a gentle nudge, hoping that would yield better results.

“Nanamin left. A couple of years back, I don’t know the details, he quit being a sorcerer. Worked as a salaryman for a while. Sensei even introduced me to him as the ex-salaryman sorcerer the first time we met. God, Nanami was so annoyed with him.”

Nanamin. Three times Itadori had referred to Nanami as that, leaving Suguru to assume it was some kind of nickname.

“He left, and then came back?” Why? No one just walks away from the Jujutsu world without fighting tooth and nail for it. Especially a sorcerer as capable as Nanami. To go through all that trouble only to return would only make the original act pointless.

“He said… being a sorcerer was shit. Being a salaryman was also shit. Since both were equally shit, he’d take the less shitty one.” Itadori’s head fell into his lap, rising back high enough to grip his face. For his fingers to press against the scar down its center. “He shouldn’t have come back.”

The tears didn’t stop.

“He’s dead. A cursed spirit, Mahito , killed him right there, right in front of me and I couldn’t do a damn thing—I should’ve gotten there sooner! I should’ve saved him! It shouldn’t have happened again!”

“You got him good, right? Took care of the guy responsible?”

“No. I… didn’t. He got away.”

Why did Itadori remind him so much of Satoru when he cried?

The same fat tears. The same choking between breaths, repressed until the very last moment. A flash of white overtook Suguru’s vision, replacing Itadori’s form with another for no less than a second.

Reach out. Don’t leave him like this.

Those thoughts carried Suguru’s hand across the gap between them, intent on holding Itadori’s shoulder as he had with Satoru—the only thing he knew how to do in a situation such as this—praying it would work all the same.

It didn’t.

Contact broke so fast, Suguru was left to question if he even touched Itadori at all. The younger teenager did more than just flinch, he scrambled back only as far as the bench would allow before his back hit the railing.

Itadori was afraid. Angered. Bewildered. A wild mix of the three that left Suguru to retreat back into his own space, unsure what he had done wrong until it hit him that the action itself wasn’t the blame, but the person performing it.

Dropping his elbows onto his knees, Suguru slouched forward as he accepted the facts before him.

But why does Itadori look at him like that? Why does it bother him so much? 

Suguru shoved his turmoil aside, choosing to address Itadori’s original outburst in favor of leaving the current one unresolved. Only for a little longer.

“Sorcerers die. More often than not, sorcerers die fighting cursed spirits.” The words almost spoke themselves, using Suguru as nothing more than a mouthpiece until he registered his own voice in the air. “Nanami knew that when he returned.”

Suguru mourned Itadori’s loss as much as one could when hearing about a future that had yet to transpire. Proof or not, each story told of a time outside their reach felt distant— hollow —yet loomed over their shoulders all the same. His grief, as shallow as it felt, did not reveal itself through the unwavering frown plastered on his face.

Itadori broke down enough for the both of them.

“It shouldn’t have happened. I-I should have saved him!”

“You’re right. Nanami shouldn’t have died. But I fail to see how you’re to blame for it.” A cursed spirit, created by the twisted conscience of monkeys, took Nanami away from them. Unless Itadori had delivered the finishing blow, it was not his fault to bear. “Should have and could have are two very different things. Just because you should have done something, does not mean you could have. Then again, I wasn’t a witness to the event, so take from that what you will.”

The younger teenager beside him contemplated his words, quick to mumble incoherently under his breath until his breathing returned to its proper place and sentences could be formed again. Just above a whisper.

“N-Nanami said, his last words were ‘You got it from here.’ How could he say that after everything… after…”

Itadori’s words trailed off. He shut his eyes right, shaking his head before working himself up into another round of grief. 

“I heard him. In the dining hall. That’s him. That’s his voice. He’s alive, and I can’t bring myself to look at him.” Itadori turned to Suguru, his eyes looking down at their feet, unable to make contact. “You’re as strong as sensei, right?”

Wrong.

Satoru surpassed him months ago.

“Satoru does have a habit of saying that.” Suguru’s refusal to commit to a solid answer was good enough to be accepted.

“Then, can I ask you something?”

They were already talking. Whatever Itadori was about to ask must be beyond a simple question— He wanted something from him. Something would be left unanswered unless Suguru engaged further.

“Sure. Ask away.”

“Ok.” Itadori uncurled his legs, dropping his feet to the ground to allow himself to straighten his back. The courage to look Suguru in the eyes had shown itself. “I know I said I have everything under control and I know sensei said he’d take care of things if something happened but—If anything does happen and Sukuna takes over… Can you kill me?”

“What are… You do know what you’re asking, don’t you?”

“I can’t lose anyone else. Not again. And definitely not to him. I don’t think— I know— Choso won’t do it. He’d rather subdue Sukuna in hopes I resurface. Sensei would try to do the same. He wouldn’t take Sukuna seriously, and I’m afraid— I need to make sure Sukuna doesn’t get a chance to hurt anyone else.” Itadori had the audacity to force a smile too painful to look at despite its purpose to put the older teenager at ease. “Don’t get me wrong, I meant what I said yesterday. I really don’t want to die just yet, not with the hell we left behind. But if Sukuna gets out, and it means keeping everyone else safe— this future safe from him —I can’t afford to be selfish.”

Suguru did not divert his eyes. In fact, all he could do was stare.

How could Itadori ask this of him?

The very questions Suguru had shoved aside returned to him in droves.

How does Itadori perceive him to be able to follow through with that? Was it because of his reaction last night? Or was it ingrained in memories older than that? 

To trust him with such a morbid failsafe when sitting here was a cause for discomfort. When both Itadori and his cursed spirit looked at him with such contempt. Too personal to be ignored. Even now, as relaxed as they appeared to be on the surface, unease plagued their silent exchange as Suguru had yet to provide an answer.

“Please, Geto-san—”

“—What did I do?” Suguru couldn’t hold himself back any longer. “What happened in your future that you can’t look at me the same way you look at him—What did I do to you?”

“Ah.” Barely audible, Itadori’s reaction was accompanied by a quick shift in his eyes, his head turning back to the dining hall he’d fled from, perhaps contemplating if it was worth making a run for it over having to face a subject he’d chosen to ignore.

Ultimately, Itadori did not run. But his reluctance to answer immediately only served to further carve the gaping feeling in Suguru’s chest. Crossing his arms, Itadori tucked his hands out of sight before returning his focus to the person beside him.

“You… um, and sensei got into a fight.”

“We do that sometimes.”

“But this… wasn’t like that.” Itadori shook his head. “I’m sorry. I don’t know enough to tell you what happened. It was before I enrolled, and…”

“You know enough to be angry, but not enough to tell me why!?” Suguru flew to his feet, fists forming at his sides as he stood over the teenager before him. He was shouting now. “Is that it?”

Before Satoru’s sealing. 

Is that why it happened? Was Suguru truly not there to help stop it? 

“I…” The younger teenager’s mouth hung open, mocking Suguru with the potential for further elaboration, closing much too quickly after nothing came out. 

“You’re not going to say it, are you?”

“I don’t want to make things worse if I do!”

The bench was abandoned as Itadori rose to his feet, facing forward while refusing to confront Suguru directly. 

“I’m sorry, Geto-san. I-I don’t… I should have tried harder to— I’m not—” 

Itadori fell over, clutching his side as he caught himself with his knees before the rest of his body hit the ground. Shaking. Hyperventilating. Caught in a panic, he struggled to grasp the bench seat behind him to lift himself up, his hand missing with each consecutive attempt.

Guilt struck Suguru as he watched, already filling in the pieces Itadori left blank with cruel assumptions of his own. He knew better than to jump to the extremes, but he could only confirm or deny what Itadori’s future held with the younger teenager’s cooperation. But all he did was drive Itadori further into anguish when he was barely holding it together as it was. 

The knowledge of the potential to come was not a miracle, but a burden. Another weight to carry on Itadori’s shoulders as he worked to decide what needed to be changed, what should stay the same. His perception of events was not perfect. His information was not all-encompassing. Despite this, Itadori's decisions were not made on a whim, but by the calculations he could make with what he had.

It was through understanding that could Suguru scrape any more progress from their talk.

“Itadori… I’m not around in your future either, am I?” Suguru dropped his fists, stepping closer to the younger teenager to kneel down by his side. “You don’t have to tell me what that means right now, I can wait. I only ask that you tell me if I’m right, ok? Everything else, we will talk about it later when you're ready.”

“It’s complicated.” Itadori gave up on climbing back onto the bench. “But… you're not wrong.”

There was relief in that confirmation, though Suguru couldn’t decide whether he should be elated to feel that way or not. 

“How about we agree to keep this between us for now? And while the ground may be very appealing, you should probably head back to Satoru and your brother before they tear apart the campus looking for you.”

Satoru should be the one by Itadori’s side. He’d be better suited for it.

“I can do that. The first thing… I don’t know if I can go back just yet.”

“We can drag our feet as we walk.” Suguru received a look of confusion on Itadori’s face, to which he addressed as he ushered the both of them to stand. “It would be irresponsible to let Sukuna’s vessel walk around unsupervised. Yaga-sensei would have Satoru’s head.”

“Ok.”

This appeared to get Itadori to follow his lead, reluctant to stand, though he was determined to do so once Satoru’s wellbeing was put at risk. As if Yaga would actually do that to him.

Suguru had to slow his pace even further to compensate for the difference in distance of their individual steps covered, his longer legs shortening the journey when both himself and Itadori were content to remain within the silence a bit longer, neither teenager eager to reach their destination.

“Are you going inside too?” Itadori asked as they stopped at the building’s edge, both lingering just far enough to avoid being heard through the open door he must have left behind when he fled. 

“Would you prefer I didn’t?”

“No. You haven’t eaten yet.” His eyes were looking at Suguru’s hair, still damp from his shower. “Everyone should have at least something to eat in the morning.”

Itadori’s words rang empty when they weren’t able to apply to himself. The very idea of eating made the younger teenager look nauseous, and the same feeling mirrored itself within Suguru’s stomach. Neither was here for the food.

“I’ll go in to make sure Satoru knows to keep a better eye on you. That is all.” What Suguru needed was a distraction as he endured the time he granted Itadori to prepare himself for their talk. But when everything around him was nothing but a reminder of all he wished to avoid, there was truly no hope in finding one here. 

Still, Suguru walked forward regardless. 

Chapter Text

Satoru turned heel and stomped back through the kitchen doors, angered by his own inability to see past his own troublesome amusement of learning of the fate of his peers through Yuji’s reactions when question after question was bound to wear him down. Not to mention boring. A change of scenery was supposed to remedy that.

Yuji had found familiarity in meeting Yaga. Trust. Relief in seeing Satoru. Shock. Confusion in riding in Ijichi’s car. Fear. Anger in dealing with Suguru—The last one was an outlier Satoru had unintentionally overlooked, but even if he had, three out of four odds swung in his favor of this morning excursion to the dining hall going quite well. At the very least, he wanted Yuji to have a decent meal and feel a bit more at ease with where he’d be staying for the time being. Running into anyone else was expected, but not guaranteed.

This was supposed to be fun. 

A notion only someone who had been blind would come up with.

To consider any other possibility had been treated as accepting defeat over being realistic. Acknowledging the possibility was not a choice in Satoru’s mind. He refused to even humor it. He would still refuse what his mind had already pieced together as he stood over the kitchen counter to stare at the battered onion remains he’d left behind not moments ago.

“Is something wrong, Gojo-senpai?” Obviously. Everything about this was wrong. “Is Yuji-kun going to be ok?”

Haibara looked to Satoru for answers, having placed his knife down on the counter with little intention to pick it back up again until the atmosphere of the room had recovered. 

“Yuji? He’ll be fine.” The confidence in Satoru’s voice did not match his concern, but if big brother Choso wasn’t pulling his hair out over Yuji’s disappearing act, then perhaps he could believe the words he spoke. “He’s a tough guy.”

“That’s good. But uh, did we say something we weren’t supposed to, or—”

“You’ve done no such thing.” It was Choso who answered next, returning to his spot by the counter he had previously occupied. He did not sit down, but remained standing as he spoke through the window that connected both the kitchen and dining hall together. “You’ll have to forgive my little brother. He recently lost someone dear to him, and coming to terms with it has been difficult. Sometimes he gets overwhelmed and requires a moment to collect himself.”

There was no doubt in Satoru’s mind about who that dear someone was. Yuji was fine until Nanami walked in, the second-year unable to finish his sentence before the younger teenager ran off. Before they could introduce themselves. Before eye contact could be made.

Why should Satoru be upset? Sure, Yuji was upset and through the power of human empathy, that particular emotion wiggled its way in and infected the both of them, but it had to be for Yuji’s sake. Satoru, the individual, should not be feeling a stranglehold over his heart as took a glimpse at the Nanami he knew, still standing and completely lost on what had just transpired around him. Nanami was alive and well and that would not change anytime soon. Or at all. Satoru will do better this time. 

“I’m sorry he’s going through that… It can’t be easy.” Haibara turned down to his workstation, nodding as new determination filled his eyes. “Then we’ll make sure to have everything ready for when he comes back, just like Gojo-senpai said!”

But as Haibara was about to return to preparing breakfast, a fourth voice cut in to stop him.

“Excuse me for the interruption, but what context am I missing?” Not going to remain silent forever, Nanami had raised his hand during his approach, putting a few seats between himself and Choso as he joined them at the counter across from Haibara.

“That was Yuji-kun. He’s our new first-year!” Despite the interruption to the flow of their previous conversation, Haibara’s excitement for Yuji’s presence had not waned in the slightest. “We’re senpais now.”

“I wasn’t aware that we were getting any new students.” Nanami turned to Satoru for confirmation, to which the third-year complied. 

“Yuji’s situation is a bit… complicated right now. A lot of paperwork and boring stuff, so he’s technically not on the books yet. Regardless, he’s staying here with his older brother, so everyone has to play nice.”

“That’s not concerning at all.” Ever the perceptive one, Nanami pointed at Choso. “Does it have to do with why you feel like a cursed spirit? You’re also too old to be a student. Explain.”

“Don’t be rude, Nanami!” Haibara chastised his classmate’s behavior as he moved on to dicing the green pepper in his hand. “It’s probably because of his cursed technique. Like Geto-senpai’s. I’m right, aren’t I?”

“Something like that.” Satoru wasn’t going to go into detail, nor did he have to. Choso simply shrugged at the explanation, doing nothing to deny or confirm it as allowing the second-year’s assumptions to fill in the blanks was much easier than fabricating a lie on the spot. Honesty, while appreciated, may ruin the pleasant atmosphere Satoru was trying to rekindle.

Still, the curse made it clear why he was there in the first place. “You are correct. I will not be attending the school, only accompanying my little brother wherever his path takes him.”

“Wow. You really do care about him a lot, don’t you Itadori-san? You’re guilting me into calling up my little sister later. We haven’t spoken in a few days… I can’t have her getting worried, or I’ll be in for an earful. She’s kind of scary like that.”

Choso tilted his head at Haibara, hung up on how the second-year had addressed him.

“Itadori-san?”

“I didn’t want to be rude. Is that not your surname?”

“No, it’s…” The curse paused, glancing to where Yuji had been sitting beside him just moments prior. He presented the tiniest of smiles before dropping it completely in favor of the usual reserved look that clung to his face. “Choso is acceptable. Please use my given name from now on. It’s what everyone else does.”

Due to the nature of the Death Painting’s inception, Choso was a Kamo. Satoru supposed that meant the cursed spirit could take up their name if he chose to, but from the sound of it, he’s shed away from that connection entirely. Yuji wasn’t related to them in a traditional sense. And since his surname came from his father’s side, and it was his mother who turned out to be the parent they shared, using Itadori’s name wasn’t exactly on the table either. Or they may have never even considered it.

“Ok! No problem then. Choso-san it is!” 

Accepting the older brother’s request, Haibara collected the vegetables in front of them into two separate bowls. Satoru stepped out of his way, only returning to the counter when the second-year placed a block of cheese in one hand and a grater in the other. The instructions were obvious, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out which side to press the cheese block against.

“Do you know what Yuji-kun likes in his omelet? Any allergies I need to be aware of?”

“None to my knowledge. He’s not a picky eater either.”

“Awesome. I can tell we’re going to get along real well!”

Yuji and Haibara never met each other before today. If they had, it certainly wasn’t like this. The first person Yuji wasn’t predisposed to— Why was that so unnerving?

Despite Satoru’s help in the preparation, Haibara took full control of the kitchen once it came time to return to the stove top with experience in hand. The third-year was reduced to retrieving the plates and cutlery. Nanami watched him with mild concern, his ears tuned in to Haibara’s impromptu lesson on how to cook an omelet properly. Their collective memory then came together to work the orders of everyone present while guessing what their missing classmates would want for when they trickled in sometime later. Surprisingly, Choso did not argue Haibara’s breakfast offering, not that the second-year or the curse's younger brother would let him if he was present.

And speaking of Yuji…

As the plates were slowly filling up, so did Satoru’s concern. His eyes continued to drift toward the dining hall entrance when not fixated on the clock hanging above their heads, impatiently waiting for Yuji’s return. Satoru had half the mind to drop everything and start the search for the missing teenager then and there. Their meal preparation was practically done, the last plate was about to be put together. Satoru’s help was no longer needed.

He exited the kitchen while struggling to untie the apron he’d let Haibara coax him into wearing. Through his frustration, Satoru was able to get the damned thing untied, bundling the apron into a ball of cloth between his hands, about to be thrown on the nearest seat when a head poked through the entrance doors, too tall to be Yuji.

“Suguru?”

“Geto-senpai!” Haibara heard his senpai’s name from Satoru’s mouth, greeting his entrance as he plated the last omelet. “Good morning!”

“Good morning to you too.” The smile and curt wave that came with his greeting did nothing to hide just how unbearably drained he looked. “I found something of yours, Satoru.”

Stepping through the doors, Suguru turned to look back over his shoulder, prompting an unmistakable head of pink hair to join him inside. The younger teenager kept his head tilted down, eyes clearly avoiding the group around the countertop with Suguru acting as a barrier to hide partially behind even though they weren’t standing all that close.

“Would you believe he got lost?”

No. But for Yuji’s sake, Satoru was certainly not going to call him out on it. Looking both better and worse, Yuji stood quietly in place as his brother rose from his seat to retrieve him. All the signs of a breakdown were there from the red swollen cheeks to the scrunched-up cloth of his jacket sleeves just shy of drying completely. 

“Yuji-kun, welcome back. We just finished setting everything out.” Haibara joined them in the hall proper, tempering his excitement with a lower voice from when they first met. “Unless you want to take it back to… I was going to say your dorm, but I don’t know if you guys have that settled yet.”

Choso, prepared to answer for him, was stopped by Yuji’s quick response.

“We’re staying at the guest house. And it’s ok, I-I’ll eat here. I don’t want to inconvenience you all further.” The younger teenager took in a noticeably heavy breath before lifting his head to face the second-year, only for his eyes to get caught up in the one sitting at the counter behind him.

“You didn’t get a chance to talk earlier, but that grump over there is Nanami. He’s in his second year like me. Don’t mind the attitude, he’s like that cause it’s early in the morning and he hasn’t had his coffee yet.”

Of course, Nanami had to take objection, leaving his meal behind to take matters into his own hands.

“What a poor way to introduce someone.”

They should stop this now, before it got worse. Satoru, Choso—Hell, even Suguru may as well step in since the pale look mirroring his own revealed what he must already know. But all three were too focused on gauging Yuji’s reaction, unsure when they should cut the conversation short or let it play out, given that the younger teenager hadn’t bolted out the door a second time.

Quivering palms matched the chaotic energy sparking off Yuji’s shoulders. The twitching only got worse when Nanami drew closer, aware enough of Yuji’s reaction to avoid invading his personal space as he assessed the first-year that had run off not too long ago. To the surprise of the three observing with the added context behind Yuji’s nerves, he quickly straightened himself to an almost comedic degree before dropping his hands to his sides and stiffly bowing his head.

“I’m Itadori Yuji!”  

He practically shouted it, the words rushing together to the point where if Nanami hadn’t heard the pieces of his name prior, he wouldn’t be faulted for assuming they were all one word.

Nanami returned the greeting with a bow of his own.

“Nanami Kento. Nice to meet you, Itadori-kun.”

The hint of a smile crept across the sides of Yuji’s cheeks, disappearing quickly as he raised his head, retreating back a step once his determination faltered. He’d turned away from the second-year as well, still nodding his head to return the sentiment as best he could.

Satoru wasn’t sure he was allowed to be jealous, given current circumstances, but he certainly was feeling it. Just a little bit.

“I don’t know about any of you, but I’ve waited long enough to eat breakfast.” Speaking over their heads with his usual energy, Satoru patted Yuji on the back of his shoulder as he walked back to the counter with his plate in his sights. 

“Aren’t you going to be joining us, Geto-senpai?” Haibara’s question prevented Suguru from immediately turning tail and booking it by bringing the spotlight back to him. “We already made you a plate.”

“We?” 

“Gojo-senpai helped with cooking this morning!” 

Satoru flashed a proud look Suguru’s way, ready to accept the praise he so rightfully deserved. His friend however placed a finger against his cheek, as if to mull over his options a lot harder than Suguru actually was before that desired praise never came. 

“If that’s the case, then for the betterment of my health I have to pass.”

How dare he! Actually, how dare all of them continuously poke fun at the one skill he was in the midst of perfecting! 

“I will shove this down your throat if you don’t eat it, you ungrateful heathen!” Naturally offended, Satoru took both his plate and Suguru’s in each hand, with the latter’s pulled back in mock preparation to chuck it at him if it came down to it.

“And give me food poisoning this early in the morning—!”

“Geto-senpai, Haibara is the one who did most of the work. It’s safe for human consumption.” Nanami proved his point by taking a bite of his meal, fed up with waiting for his two upperclassmen to begin eating. 

Between the three of them, Suguru’s excuses for avoiding breakfast ran dry. Satoru did take pity on him, placing their breakfast at one of the tables away from the counter where everyone else had taken to eating after Nanami claimed the far stool for himself. Haibara naturally took to Nanami’s side. The second-year then slid down Yuji and Choso’s plates as the two who had followed after them before noticing where the third-years were sitting, trapped in avoiding that bit of awkwardness that would come if they were to move seats now. 

Any silence between them would not last long, with Haibara making conversation in between bites, sharing everything detail from his mission he could think of while coaxing Nanami to do the same. While still worried about Yuji, nothing about his posture from behind brought about any immediate cause for concern, leaving Satoru to trust Choso to take care of him while he turned to the person now sitting across from him at their personal table.

Suguru hadn’t made a move to touch his omelet.

“It’s really bland. Super boring. Easy on the stomach. Nothing like mine.” Satoru took a bite, showing the excessive amount of cheese curled inside. “It’s an American recipe, but he rolled them up like traditional Tamagoyaki. Best of both worlds.”

“Is that more cheese than—You know what? I should be grateful you aren’t eating raw sugar instead.” Hesitant, Suguru eventually picked up his chopsticks to humor a tiny bite of his own. By the looks of it, Suguru didn’t hate it, but he wasn’t about to dive in for more either. Baby steps.

Lowering to a whisper, Satoru took the opportunity to poke Suguru about what happened while Yuji was out of his sight.

“I assume… you know about?”

“Yeah.” Suguru knew who Satoru was referring to. There wasn’t a good reason for either to say his name out loud. “They were close.”

“You think? At least Yuji looks like he’s doing a lot better, more than I thought he would after disappearing as fast as he had.” It wasn’t the most miraculous of changes, but to see the younger teenager sit there with only minor jitters whenever Nanami spoke was a feat worth praising. Like Satoru said before, Yuji was a tough kid. “Did you say something or…?”

“I doubt I’m responsible for this turnaround. Perhaps some things are just easier to confront than others.” There it was. The same hint of bitterness from yesterday once again seeped into Suguru’s words. 

Satoru forcefully swallowed the half-chewed egg in his mouth, maneuvering away from that line of thought.

“It’s not like we have anything to worry about. Whatever happened ain’t gonna happen now that I know to keep my eye out.”

“Is that what you’ll do? Watch over everyone indefinitely on top of everything else?”

“Why not?” His friend’s skepticism was confusing. Maybe the declaration was a tad impractical for a normal person, but Satoru’s power was not something anyone could easily rival. Even those who worked against him in the future had to resort to locking him away, unable to face him directly. The threats Yuji spoke of could be countered. The lives that were lost could be prevented. “Fate doesn’t mean shit to me. The future is what we make it and I’m not married to the one Yuji came from. It’s that easy.”

“That’s not—Never mind,” Suguru muttered, shoving whatever objection he could have in favor of a more pressing issue. “If you’re so confident in your plan, start by keeping a better eye on Itadori. Our sensei is putting a lot of faith in you, don’t make him regret it.”

“Like I said, easy.”

Suguru disagreed.

“Sukuna speaks to him. Did you know that?”

Satoru put down the next bite he’d planned to take, letting the conversation of those sitting at the counter drown out their own for just long enough to see if anyone was listening in.

“I suspected. In Ijichi’s car, Yuji spoke about having to ignore him. Helped me put together how the two operated since his case of possession isn’t exactly a standard one we learned in class.” As he poked at his eggs, Satoru leaned into the knuckles of his hand. “What does the great King of Curses have to say?”

“Nothing that bears repeating. The curse seems to find enjoyment in breaking his vessel’s self-worth, not that Itadori appears to have much of it to begin with.”

“Harsh. But we already knew being Sukuna’s vessel hasn’t been easy on him.” Satoru let out a mild chuckle, earning a questionable look on Suguru’s face in need of clarification as to why. “Look at you, caring. You’re getting all attached. It’s adorable.”

“I don’t. And I’m not.”

“Are too. I can see it on your face. You’re even referring to him differently. None of that ‘it’ bullshit from before.” If only Choso could get the same treatment…

“I’m keeping an eye out for possible danger and Itadori’s ability to keep that curse in check protects the rest of us from harm. Unlike you, I’m not taking this lightly.” Suguru, on the defensive, shoves a bite into his mouth before turning away, mumbling the rest between his teeth. “He’s a good kid. Objectively. Do your job and keep it that way.”

“You say that like we aren’t in this together—”

“Morning losers!”

Both conversations came to a halt as Shoko entered the building, coffee in hand. The most put-together in the room, she certainly took her time getting ready to achieve such a look. While she acknowledged her fellow third-years, going so far as to flick the back of Satoru’s head as she passed by, her sights were on someone else in particular.

“Look who's back!” Shoko stopped behind Nanami’s seat. “You better not be avoiding me if you got any injuries on that mission of yours. Because someone got hurt and he’s very grateful that I was available— Haibara!”

“I am grateful! You’re acting like I got hurt on purpose.” Haibara whined, with Nanami responding close behind him.

“Good morning Ieiri-senpai. My injuries were minor and have already been treated with adequate care. There was no reason for me to bother you this early in the morning, I’m sure your schedule is already filled up as it is.”

“Actually, I’m free today. Technically on standby, but for once the world isn’t burning enough to need my immediate attention.” That explains how Shoko had indulged herself this morning. “Now, I assume you boys made something for me, or do I have to fend for myself?”

The two at the table remained quiet as Shoko took a seat next to Haibara, exchanging greetings with the rest of the people beside her while offering an additional wave to Yuji much to Haibara’s shock at learning he was one of the last to meet their new ‘first-year’. His exclamation was enough for Shoko to realize what the story was and she knew better than to claim Yuji was anything less.

It was funny, in a way, with almost everyone here and barely any of the seats filled in the dining hall, the nearly empty building managed to feel packed to the brim.

“Good morning Gojo-senpai. Geto-senpai.” 

The aforementioned pair whipped their heads around, startling the underclassman standing over them. 

“Ijichi!” Satoru wrapped his arm around the frazzled teenager and dragged him down into the seat next to him. “Come, sit. We have so much to talk about. When was the last time we saw each other—” Shifting to a whisper, Satoru cut to the chase. “How’s the search going?”

“Search?” Suguru moved closer in his seat, looking to Satoru to explain rather than the soul trapped underneath his arm. 

“I asked Ijichi to look to do a background check on a kid who shares Itadori’s name.” Please take the hint Suguru. “Discreetly, because he’s in a complicated situation.”

“Yes, well, I managed to unearth a few things last night if you’re willing to hear them.” Ijichi shimmied out of Satoru’s hold to grab the scrunched-up notepad he kept in his uniform pocket. Fixing his glasses back into their proper place, Ijichi turned several pages until he landed on the one he was after.

“Proceed.”

“Itadori Yuji. 4 years old. His parents are Itadori Jin and Kaori. A resident of Sendai under the legal guardianship of his grandfather, Itadori Wasuke. Currently enrolled in kindergarten close to his home.”

“His parents aren’t in the picture?” Satoru wasn’t surprised in the least, humming as he listened to Ijichi’s explanation. 

“They were reported missing in late 2003, six months after their son was born. There was no explanation given for their disappearance. One day they were home, the next they were gone. Wasuke is their son’s only living relative so naturally, custody fell to him.” Ijichi flipped to the next page, a hell of a lot emptier than the one before it. “I looked further into their family history for any connection to Jujutsu sorcery, curious if cursed spirits and the like were to blame, but that came up empty. On the surface, there is nothing to separate the Itadori family from the rest of the non-sorcerer population.”

“None of his family are sorcerers?” Out of all the details, that was the one Suguru was most interested in? Then again, Suguru’s family weren’t sorcerers either. It probably struck a chord with him. 

“Not from what I could find. If any were, they have no connections to Jujutsu Tech and the regulations that govern it. Private sects of sorcerers aren’t uncommon, but I found nothing to back up that being the case. When I looked even deeper, most of what I found were dead ends with missing documentation, especially on Jin’s wife and her family.”

Of course they were not going to find anything about Kaori’s moonlighting as a curse user mastermind from over a thousand years ago, but Satoru was expecting a bit more than what Ijichi could come up with. The report felt, for lack of a better term, mundane. There was a mystery behind it, Yuji’s parents and all that, but the rest was just about some abandoned kid in Sendai. Which shouldn’t be the case, given his status as Sukuna’s vessel. Assuming Yuji’s claim of being born for the role, one would think that Fake Kamo would want to keep their kid under a more watchful eye. Or have him descend from a powerful sorcerer lineage as that made more sense to Satoru for Yuji’s ability to contain a curse of that magnitude. 

He wondered if the grandfather was in on it. A not-so-pleasant thought, but they had to be open to the possibility if they were going to track down this body-snatching curse user before their goals of genocide and death matches were brought to fruition.

At the very least, the report aligned with what Yuji had revealed of his personal life so far. The age and family situation matched up, and if Satoru were to poke around some more and receive the same answers regarding his hometown and such, it would only serve to boost his credibility. Not that his cell phone wasn’t enough—Crap. Yuji’s cell phone!

“I can look into getting a printed copy of what I found—”

“Quick question! Completely off-topic, but how would you go about getting some pictures off a phone if the battery’s dead and you had no way to charge it. The charging port is busted.” The new topic caught Ijichi off-guard, but he had an answer for him despite that.

“Uh, assuming the phone had a memory card of some kind you could remove it and get the photos developed that way. You could then bring it to a print shop or a self-serve kiosk within a convenience store if they have one.”

“That fits perfectly in my plan for today.” With two thumbs up, Satoru beamed a smile at the younger teenager beside him. “This is why you’re the best, Ijichi!”

“Since when did you plan?”

Suguru’s comment went ignored as Satoru stood up from his seat, excited to address the rest of the hall. 

“Attention! All eyes on me—Nanami, turn around or I will come over there.” Satoru clapped his hands until he got what he wanted and several pairs of confused eyes were on him. “The good news is, we have off from classes today. Sensei’s busy taking care of some official business and since we don’t have any other teachers available at the moment, we third-years are in charge. Eat up and get ready, because we’re going out today!”

“That is a terrible idea.”

“Well, I like it—”

“Does your sensei approve of this?”

“I guess, it depends on where we go…”

“We were out yesterday.”

“Quiet! Quiet!” Satoru turned to address Suguru’s irritated glare. “We were out for like, half a day and then stuff got in our way. With those two back from their missions, Shoko free from the shackles of the nurse’s office, and a ‘new’ student to settle in, this is exactly what everyone needs. And it’s not like we’re going to the same place. I was thinking we could walk around Hachioji since it’s way closer. Have you ever been to Hachioji, Yuji?”

“No?” Yuji’s answer was more of a question, but he was too busy shying away in his seat to worry about how it came out. 

“Then it’s settled. Ijichi can drive—”

“—The car won’t fit everyone!”

Groaning, Satoru shook his head at Ijichi before amending the plan.

“Fine. We’ll take a bus! Like a bunch of non-sorcerers on a field trip.” Manifesting the ability to teleport needed to happen a lot sooner. Another thing to poke Yuji about. Satoru’s future self had to have cracked the code in the last decade and just maybe, if Satoru learned how, he could skip right to the results instead of wasting time figuring it out—

Without warning, Suguru got up from his seat to stare Satoru down from across the table. He looked ready to burst, but he contained himself well enough to limit what may have been so much more, to three simple words.

“I’m not going.”

“What do you mean ‘ I’m not going!?” Satoru rushed after his friend who was already out the door by the time Satoru processed his words and shouted after him. “Suguru! Get back here!”

Refusing to let up his pace, Satoru restored to yanking back Suguru’s shoulder to force him to turn around. 

“You’re going.”

“I’m not.” Suguru pulled away from him, but Satoru caught the edge of his sleeve. They both stood there, neither one moving from a position as they both knew what was bound to happen next.

“Yes, you are.”  

“Satoru, admittedly I’m not in the best shape this morning and would prefer to spend the rest of the day without getting involved in more unnecessary trouble.”

“It’s just a few hours. At least stay for a little bit, then you can go home on your own if you really have to.” Satoru grit his teeth as he tried to reason when his demands weren’t met. “Everyone looks like they could use a day off. We’ve never had the whole group together like this in… what? Weeks?”

“Months. Three to be exact.”

Has it really been that long?

“See! All the more reason to go!”

“I— Satoru—!” Suguru’s arm went slack in Satoru’s hold, a very different means of pushing away. One that worked, as Satoru let go to watch his friend’s hand retreat into his pocket. Suguru said nothing for a bit, telling Satoru from that alone he was still thinking over the offer, even as his body language made it clear that his friend was going to leave, regardless. “I’ll think about it. Ok? The rest of you are loud enough to inform me when you’ll be leaving. If I don’t go, respect my decision.”

“I can’t make any promises.” 

Satoru gave him a half-hearted smile as he watched Suguru walk off on his own. Before rounding the corner, Suguru glanced back his way, shaking his head at Satoru’s answer before disappearing behind the building completely.

Suguru will be back before he knew it. Satoru was sure of it. He had to be. Yet his normally unshakable confidence had shifted on its base, leaving just enough room for doubt to trickle underneath. All he had were his words to convince himself that wasn’t the case.

“I have to agree with your friend.”

“Not you too.” Satoru mumbled, knowing full well it was loud enough for Choso to hear. He wasn’t paying enough attention to how long the curse had been standing just outside the doorway behind him. 

“Your sensei requested my brother and I to remain in the guest house. While he was aware of your refusal to adhere to that request, leaving the campus may stretch his patience a bit too thin.” 

“I mean, if he already knows I’m going to get in the way of his request, then I don’t see what the problem is. We’ll be back before he knows we’re gone since he’s busy figuring out what to do about the whole, meet and greet you two were planning.” Satoru crossed his arms, letting his back fall against the building’s outside wall as his eyes continued to linger where Suguru had been.

“I don’t want to lose his good graces.”

“You won’t. If anything happens, just blame me for it.” Arguing about this was becoming annoying. “We also have to restock the guest house and stealing from the dining hall won’t cut it. I don’t like grocery shopping, but I’m sure you can handle it. You bought food for Yuji already, haven’t you?”

“Yes, I have. But—”

Satoru raised a finger, unwilling to hear another objection.

“This is rare for me to admit, so consider yourself honored to even hear these words… I fucked up bringing Yuji out this morning. I didn’t realize what would happen when he saw Nanami.” The teenager gestured back to the dining hall, pausing just long enough for the voices inside to reach their ears. “He seems to be doing better now, right? Let me make up for it by just letting everyone be normal for a few hours, away from all the Jujutsu bullshit. And if you manage to get his phone in my hands, I may have found a way to print those pictures while we’re out. It’s a win for everyone.”

It felt cheap using Yuji as a bargaining chip, but when Choso’s glaring weakness of looking after his brother was something Satoru could not only agree with but actively do something to help, was it really all that wrong?

“If you say so.”

The bus to Hachioji was ten minutes behind schedule.

Patience was never something Satoru could never claim he had, nor would he ever not in jest. He would have made his frustration everyone else’s problem if it wasn’t for the last straggler joining their group after five minutes had passed the designated pickup time. 

Taking his time down the road, Suguru offered little more than a shrug as he joined the rest of them in their wait. He kept to himself, purposefully standing outside the bus stop while the younger students and Choso waited inside. The hint was clear. Unfortunately for Suguru, neither Satoru nor Shoko were ones to read into such things, moving themselves closer to their fellow third-years to welcome him along their excursion.

“You came late on purpose.” Shoko teased, grabbing onto Suguru’s arm in an effort to chain him down. “If you had shown your face just as the bus left, Gojo would have stopped the bus and dragged you on.”

Following Shoko’s lead, Satoru claimed the other arm for himself

“I really would. It’s already running late. What’re a few more minutes?” 

“If I didn’t come, I’d never hear the end of it.” Suguru let out a heavy sigh. “Occasions like this are a rarity. Still, don’t get mad at me if I don’t want to get dragged into every building that catches your eye.”

“You can sleep on a bench for all I care.” Suguru tagging along was enough all on its own.

“I just might.”

The ride itself lasted for roughly an hour, though the only one who might know the exact length of the journey was Nanami, as he checked his watch frequently enough while being in the midst of the couple conversations bouncing around overhead. 

The group waited until the bus reached the city center before getting off, banking on the central city blocks to hold the greatest variety of shops and businesses to peruse through during their visit. Despite being over a week since the Hachioji Festival had swept through the streets, Bon season ensured that the visiting population was dense enough to warrant a bit of coordination between them to avoid losing anyone to the ever-moving foot traffic. Ultimately, the agreement that worked best for everyone was to meet up every hour or so to check in, with the intervals of time in between to be spent doing whatever each person wished. This led to the larger group splintering off into smaller ones of which the members came and went, shuffling around between each other throughout the day. 

Satoru stuck by Suguru’s side at first, claiming a sense of victory when he was able to coax him into a clothing store neither of them would ever buy from. He did not have to worry much about the two time travelers they were with. Yuji and Choso remained close by, never leaving Satoru’s sight if able, but made no attempt to intrude in his conversations unless prompted to. From what Satoru could observe, Yuji spent much of the time explaining an assortment of things to his older brother when confusion arose. Like a kid explaining to an old man how a computer worked, but in this case, it was credit cards and discount memberships neither of them was in need of.

The two eventually left when the second-years passed by the front window, Haibara beckoning their attention from outside. Sometime after their departure, Suguru headed off on his own as he said he would. His social batteries reached their limit early. If he wanted to spend the next half-hour walking around alone, that was his choice to make. Consequently, that left Satoru with a vacancy in the companion-to-drag-around department, and thus, the search for where Yuji ran off to had begun and ended a couple of businesses down the road.

For the first time, Satoru got to witness Yuji on his own, big brother nowhere to be seen. 

The displaced time traveler was staring up at a tacky sign advertising video rentals inside. After pressing both his hands together at the palms, Yuji muttered an inaudible prayer before peeking inside the front door. By the time Satoru made it to the entrance, Yuji had already delved further inside, sifting through rows of DVDs packed away in box displays that made up the middle aisles of the store. His fingers ran along the tops of each case, eager to see what was in stock. His face, in contrast, was tucked underneath a despondent frown, lighting up only when Satoru pulled him out from whatever stupor he’d fallen into.

“I thought Choso was attached to your hip?”

“Sensei!” Yuji jumped in his uniform, unaware that Satoru had snuck up on him. “Haibara… senpai heard we were buying groceries and wanted to show him this produce stand and something about secret older brother stuff? I don’t get it, but I promised not to go anywhere else, so he was ok with me checking this building out while they did their thing.”

“That’s not surprising. Haibara’s always been good at making friends.”

“Friends…” The younger teenager hung on that word a bit too long before he let out a cough, flipping over the DVD in his hand to the backside. “I can see it. He seems like a very nice person.”

There was a brief moment of silence, begging Satoru to fill in the air with something to get their conversation rolling again.

“So… Are you doing ok?” That could have come out better. Less awkward, definitely not as forced. At least they weren’t making eye contact, or Yuji might pick up on the way Satoru’s lips were twitching at the edge of his mouth. 

“I’m ok. I mean, as good as I can be. Did uh, Geto-san tell you what happened over breakfast or…?”

“Nah. Well, he implied a lot of things, so I put the rest together. It’s—It must be hard seeing everyone like this.” But you’re handling it really well. Good job. “Sorry your future sucks.”

“It’s not your fault.” Why does it feel like it is? Yuji looked up from the movie in his hands. “And we’re going to make sure it doesn’t happen again. Like you said, nothing to worry about this time around.”

The atmosphere went from comfortably air-conditioned to annoyingly heavy in such a way his own Limitless couldn’t work against. Satoru’s instinct begged him to rectify this shift, forcing the conversation to switch gears to something much less emotionally taxing. 

“Obviously. Anyway, since you like movies, let’s pick out a small stack to bring back as something to do when Yaga tries to enforce house arrest on all of us!” Satoru picked up the first cover that caught his eye. Some b-rated thriller by the looks of it. “This one looks good. ”

The two exchanged the DVDs in their hands for the other, assessing the options as Yuji tapped at the cover with his finger in recognition. “I remember this! The heroine is kind of annoying, but she dies spectacularly in the end, so I guess the watch was worth it.”

Satoru went to open his mouth, only to close it, only truly realizing just what Yuji had done when a shit-eating grin stretched itself across the younger teenager’s face.

“I’m sorry sensei!” Yuji laughed—He laughed! He wasn’t sorry at all! “I couldn’t help myself! You have to understand, I had to do it the moment I recognized it.”

“All because I happen to spoil movies, occasionally, you have to do it too? Is that how it works?” With a light flick of the wrist, Satoru smacked the DVD case he was holding against Yuji’s head. If it were anyone else, he would have done worse. But for Yuji, here and now, he’d make an exception.

“You spoiled this exact one for me!”

“And I’ll make sure to do it again!” Whether it meant waiting eleven years to meet Yuji’s smaller counterpart all grown up or telling a four-year-old the ending to that movie unprompted, Satoru swore to get back at him! 

Was this how paradoxes started?

Hm...

“You’re such a sore loser.” From across the movie display, Shoko stood with a lollipop in hand to designate to whom she was referring. “Gojo, you’re going to get kicked out for acting like such a child.”

“Maturity is boring and overrated.” Satoru had heard the entrance bell ring when Shoko walked in, fortunate it was Shoko and not one of the second-years, or else there’d be a lot more explaining to do. “And I’d like to see them try to kick me out.”

“I wouldn’t.” Yuji shot an apologetic look over to the cashier at the register. “If we’re going to follow any of Yaga-san’s rules, could it be the one where we don’t cause a scene?”

“Now that you mention him, Yaga-sensei doesn’t watch movies with us. And before you say anything—” Shoko pointed at Satoru. “—the movies he put on for class when he needed a break from lecturing don’t count.” She then popped her sucker back into her mouth before spreading her arms across the DVD cases when standing straight apparently became too much for her. “So why are you and this idiot watching so many movies? Not saying you can’t. Just curious.”

“Oh! That’s because it was part of my training!”

“Training?” Shoko looked at Satoru as if he had the answer, but he hadn’t a clue what Yuji was talking about.

“Yeah! I needed help controlling the flow of my cursed energy. Yaga-san made this cursed doll that would punch me if I didn’t give it a constant output of a specific level of energy.” Yuji curled his fists and punched the air. “The movies were a way to force me to keep my energy constant while experiencing different emotions and stuff. I got hit so many times… After I got my energy under control, we just sort of fell into the habit of watching movies after physical training since there wasn’t a lot else I could do in sensei's basement.”

A moment of silence fell between them. A prelude to the ensuing disaster the moment the last sentence clicked in the upperclassman’s heads.

“I always knew you were a pervert!” Without missing a beat, Shoko sent a kick at Satoru’s legs from underneath the display. If his Limitless hadn’t been active, the end result would have been him, on the floor, clutching his leg and holding back the tears which would have formed in his eyes. “Yuji, get over here! I’ll protect you from that bad, awful man.”

Shoko rounded the corner of the display to grab Yuji’s hand and tug him away from Satoru’s side.

“You don’t even know the context! And don’t say shit like that out loud!”

Shoko raised her eyebrows at Satoru, unconvinced by his words, “Tell me, what context makes any of what I heard ok? You’re keeping a child in your basement.”

In unison, both third-years turned their heads to Yuji, prompting him to play through what he’d just said.

“I’m starting to realize why Kugisaki was mad at sensei when I first told her where I had been staying those last couple months. Oops.” Yuji rubbed the back of his neck as he wrestled his hand free from Shoko’s grasp. “It really wasn’t like that, Ieiri-san. I needed a place to stay while pretending to be dead. Further context, that mission that I mentioned with the cursed womb ended uh, with me sort of dying— but I came back! Blame Sukuna, it’s a long story. Sensei thought the higher-ups sent us on that mission while he was away on purpose, and he wanted me to get stronger before revealing I wasn’t actually dead at the exchange event.” 

How many times has this kid died!?

“Smart plan, future me.” Satoru decided that he was going to ride this I-Told-You-So moment for the rest of the day, or as long as Shoko would be disgusted by it. “Looking out for my future student’s well-being… And for you to assume the worst of me, Shoko? I’m hurt.”

“Because you are the worst. It’s fitting.” 

“You’re so mean… Having to pretend to be dead must have been a pain. Not that you wouldn’t want to spend time with me— can’t imagine anyone who wouldn’t because I’m a riot— but I assume not everyone knew about it?”

Yuji nodded.

“Only you, Ieiri-san, Ijichi, and Nanami knew. I… actually met Nanami during that time and I got to accompany him on a few of his missions. All this movie watching you made me do came in handy, cause… It’s a long story too. Uh…” Trying to break free from the stuttering, Yuji’s grip tightened on the DVD case in his hands as he looked up at Satoru with newfound intensity. “There’s this guy, a boy, probably six or seven now—His name is Yoshino Junpei, and he can see curses. He lives in Kawasaki. Junpei should be fine now, but when he’s older, my age, he should attend Jujutsu Tech! He’d probably be a second or third-year compared to me, but that’s ok. And he likes movies too! A lot. You’ll like him.”

There didn’t need to be a reason. Satoru could figure out why Yuji was so adamant all on his own. Something definitely happened to this Junpei kid, and nothing good was coming to mind when he tried to put together what.

“Oh really? You think you know the kind of people I like?” Satoru grabbed another DVD to form a pile with what they already had. “I’ll be the judge of that when I meet him.”

It was amazing how a simple sentence could instantly brighten up Yuji’s face. There was no binding vow to his words, nor was Satoru going to make one, but he didn’t find any issue with agreeing to Yuji’s request either. He’ll commit the name to memory and come back to it later. Perhaps there’s a picture of this kid Yuji could show him. It’ll make tracking down this Junpei all the easier when the time comes if their meddling didn’t cause a butterfly effect on a grander scale to account for.

The battery on Yuji’s phone was pronounced dead during lunch.

It was more of a snack break than an actual lunch, given that half the teenagers present opted for something to drink or a snack over a standard meal on the café menu. Their group had claimed three outdoor tables for themselves, congregating heavily on the edges closest to one another to maximize the table space with the shortest amount of distance between the smaller clusters to allow cross-table discussion. 

Satoru had to observe the somber news from afar, curly straw balanced between his teeth as he lamented his stolen seat at Haibara’s hands when the second-year started showing off some of the small goods he’d picked up from the corner store. Choso had naturally taken to Yuji’s other side, leaving Satoru to sit behind him and chime in once in a while as he felt the need to. 

Within one of the smaller moments Yuji got to himself as Haibara ran over to shout something over at Ijichi and Nanami, he tucked his hands into his pockets to pull out his phone under the table, clicking the power button only to receive nothing but an unchanging black screen. Yuji clicked it again. Then a third time, pressing his thumb hard against the case to restart the device but to no avail.

Time of death? Hard to say, but Satoru would place it sometime within the last couple of hours. Definitely during the morning.

Choso’s hand on Yuji’s back prevented the full manifestation of his panic. The curse doesn’t scold him for it, merely opens his other hand and suggests he let go of the device for a little while. Yuji’s struggle to let go was apparent, but as the food the group ordered rolled in, what resistance he had to the idea went away. He handed over his cell phone, gently placing it in his older brother’s hand before the cursed tucked it away within his sleeves.

Not too long after, Choso flashed the device behind his back, handing it off to Satoru discretely as the two leaned close together to hide the handoff.

Bingo. It was now time to enact the second part of Satoru’s plan, first by sneaking away from the rest of the group in search of one of those self-service kiosks Ijichi had mentioned.

Satoru did not have to stray far to find what he was after.

Red, orange, and green popped against the white background of the signage plastered all around the next street corner. The 7-Eleven was practically begging for Satoru’s attention, earning every bit of it once the teenager’s eyes fell on the small window decal advertising their printing service. Stepping inside revealed the convenience store to be nothing special beyond that, but Satoru wasn’t here to shop, so he paid it no mind as he scurried over to the small kiosks hugging the wall a little way from the entrance. 

How to go about doing this…?

Satoru sat down on the complimentary chair and began with the tried-and-true method of poking buttons until he got to a screen demanding the thing from which he was extracting the photos. Even if this phone had been manufactured this year, Satoru was sure he couldn’t just stick the damn thing into a slot, so retrieving the memory card was a must.

There was a crease in the case, and with a little pressure, he could—

Satoru heard an uncomfortable snap.

Crap, the back wasn’t going back on to this thing anytime soon… But, if the now exposed micro SD card was what he was looking for, he’d have to hope that returning with photo prints and a replacement phone would keep Yuji from getting too upset. The Satoru phone warranty never expires so long as his credit card remains usable.

The teenager inserted the micro SD card in the appropriate slot, then waited a minute for nothing to happen before he realized it was not incompatible technology, but the fact the little slider on the card was in a position that prevented him from moving on to the final step: printing.

And look at that! There's a print-all button. Perfect.

Now, Satoru had come in with the intent of violating Yuji’s privacy. There was no way around it. He couldn’t accept Yaga and Yuji’s excuse for hiding a single image from him when all they had to do was tilt the phone his way. 

Was it petty? Yes. 

Did Satoru care? Absolutely not.

But, when the first image slid out of the printer, his heart took a swan dive, only to propel back up and smack him in the face as he lifted the print from the collection tray to hold between his fingers— It was a photo of him. Future Satoru was wearing the same uniform as he did in the photo Yuji had shown him back at the guest house. His features were a bit more defined, definitely a little taller than the height Satoru was currently, lacking in the usual confident smile as it appeared Yuji had caught him by surprise.

The next few pictures were of the school campus from what looked to be outside a window, the boy’s dorm hallway, and then the dorm Yuji must have been staying in if the boxes at the foot of the bed with his last name written on the side were anything to go by. It was the last image of the trio that Satoru could make out the torn apart box that Yuji’s phone must have come in strewn along his desk, dating the scene as that of when he first got the device, probably playing around with the camera and snapping memories all in one go.

A similar pattern continued as the images were printed, with location shots, pictures of food, or interesting things that caught Yuji’s eye intermixing with the photos he could get of the people around him. There was a boy with sea urchin hair that appeared in a few of the early ones, but never did Yuji get a good shot of his face as he avoided the camera like the plague, with the opposite holding true for the girl that must have made up the first-year class with the other two. She was found posing more often than not.

The next image was that of much darker lighting. Yuji hadn’t taken it, he was asleep on some couch with a hand clamped over the head of a stuffed bear with boxing gloves for hands passed out on the ground below him. Recognizing the scene from Yuji’s prior story, the glow illuminating him in the dark must have been from the television out of view. The teenager could only guess who was responsible for taking the image and snickered as a result.

Nanami and Ijichi appeared frequently for a while, both looking serious and professional with their suits and ties, only making the scene of Nanami kneading dough with rolled sleeves and bits of flour dusting his shirt all the more amusing. Haibara must have succeeded in getting him into cooking after all. Following those two were a few images of Satoru and Nanami, their future selves appearing to speak a lot more frequently than they currently do now. However, Nanami’s tired scowl was timeless, a mirror image of the one Satoru was used to receiving now but with a few added stress lines to boot. 

In the midst of all those shots, there was a standalone photo of some kid standing under the light of what was probably his front porch with a hand awkwardly waving in the air. He wasn’t wearing a Jujutsu Tech uniform and wasn’t in the images to come, which must have made him a civilian.

Shoko and Yaga made their appearance within a series of baseball-themed images that came next. Shoko’s hair got longer and Yaga got older, now sporting his own pair of shades and a spiky new haircut. Post-game shots included the teams, their coaches, and the wild assortment of students that were currently in attendance at both Jujutsu schools. A double take was required when he saw the panda, convinced it was a mascot until the oddly human-acting panda appeared in subsequent photos which clarified that this was a student— somehow.

Yuji was going to have to explain that one in detail.

Utahime stood with the Kyoto school, designating her a teacher just as Satoru’s future self, alongside an old man Satoru had thought would have keeled over dead in the next decade. Yuji was posing with one of her students in the next shot, a fist bump shared between them. A sign of friendship if Satoru ever saw one.

Satoru was about to take a break from attempting to catch each image as they exited the printer, wiping away what had to be sweat accumulating around his eyes from the summer heat as another picture just had to catch his eye.

His hand stopped reaching midair in shock, the images currently in his possession falling to the ground and scattering along the floor as his grip on them faltered. Cursing, Satoru quickly fell to the floor to gather the stack of photos before they could get trampled, unsettled by the way his fingers twitched about no matter how much he fought to keep them under control.

There was no way he was on Yuji’s camera roll.

Scrambling back to his seat, Satoru dug through the prints that had since fallen in his way to retrieve the one that made his stomach lurch in the uncertainty of what he was looking at.

There was no way…

Satoru flipped the picture around to see if looking at it upside down would help his brain process the image easier, but it took an entire three hundred and sixty degree spin to lock in exactly what the teenager was looking at. 

Sitting on the steps to a building within the campus with Yuji’s arm wrapped around his shoulders as the camera looked down on him was… a smaller version of Toji. Fucking Toji. The man whose face Satoru was never going to forget, his very features reflected in the unamused eyes staring back at him with a popsicle in hand.

What the actual—

The bastard did say he had a kid. Something about a sale to the Zenin clan… They’d only want him if he had a valuable curse technique. Those with curse techniques usually became sorcerers—That checks out. But why was he here!? Next to Yuji like they were—

Satoru immediately flipped through the jumbled stack of prints, ignoring the bends and deformities he was making as he sifted through them all to double-check all the images with him involved, coming to terms with this kid— Zenin? Fushiguro? Which name did he associate with? —as Yuji’s friend, dorm neighbor, classmate— future Satoru’s student and…

He paused on the image of a restaurant table. Yuji was sitting behind the camera, the odd angle of the photo capturing the exact moment when Satoru’s thumb pressed into the sea urchin head’s cheek, much to his apparent displeasure and Satoru’s amusement. The murderous look in the kid’s eyes was far from genuine, stemming from embarrassment more than anything else with hints of red popping up on his cheeks.

Were they close? Or was future Satoru just like this with all his students? There wasn’t any evidence to say he was, nor was there any against, leaving the question unanswered as he continued to stare at the picture until the kiosk let out a series of chirps to indicate the prints were done.

As strange a revelation that all was, there was one other that sought to top that, creeping its way into the forefront of Satoru’s mind as he lazily tossed about the remaining prints without nearly as much intrigue as when he first walked in. A few harsh taps against the flat surface to the right of the kiosk’s touch screen aligned the stack of prints well enough to be tucked in the envelope he swiped from the provided display. He took his time sliding everything inside, but lingered on actually closing it shut once the common thread which entangled all the photos he’d witnessed had reared its ugly head. 

Haibara wasn’t in any of these. That made sense. Yuji did not appear to recognize him when they met this morning. Why that was, Satoru could not say, but the evidence currently in his hands proved that in the months Yuji had been a part of Jujutsu Tech, their paths had never crossed. 

What did not make sense, no matter how many times Satoru wrapped his head around it, was the other person missing from Yuji’s camera roll. Someone who should have been in several of these photos, no matter how poor of a relationship Yuji had with his future counterpart— Satoru would have settled for seeing him cropped out of the shot for all he cared! 

Just one picture, no matter how small. That’s all it would have taken to ease Satoru’s twisting heart. Unfortunately for him, it would not matter how many times Satoru looked them over with a fine-tooth comb because he was not there!

It only made sense that he would be there— he should be there —and he’s not!

Why? Where else would he be?

Where was Suguru’s adult counterpart if not by Satoru’s side?

Chapter Text

Adrenaline was a tricky thing.

For a short time, the human body is pushed to its limit all for the sake of survival. The rush overtakes every fiber of one’s being, flooding the senses and hastening the heart to prepare for the danger to come. Fight or flight. It did not matter which. 

This state was exhilarating to experience and all the more taxing to endure when the adrenaline stopped flowing and one’s pulse was forced to slow. Each breath a battle in itself, and while it may be a struggle to get up and drag one’s feet across the ground, that is exactly what Yuji did as he followed the newly formed crevice tearing apart the campus grounds in two. 

He did not walk alone. 

Todo, his brother in arms sauntered alongside him, far less worse for wear with purpose in his step, determined to reach the central square of the campus to reconvene with the students and faculty currently scattered in every direction across the battlefield. 

The first they came across when the dirt became stone underneath their feet were the Tokyo second-years, grouped together and licking their wounds while waiting for the others to arrive. Silent waves were exchanged between them as the pair made their entrance, and while the battle had been won, the only smiles to be had were that of relief to see confirmation on the familiar faces who survived.

After the initial greetings and confirmation that no one was in need of immediate medical attention—even though there were smears of blood at the edge of Inumaki’s mouth—Todo swung the three-sectioned staff hung over his shoulder, snapping the pieces together into one hand before holding it out in front of Maki.

“I believe this is yours.”

Maki took hold of the staff, disgust crawling across her face at his words.

“Ugh. Don’t ever refer to it as mine. I just claimed use of the damned thing for the event.”

“True, but is a weapon not an extension of oneself? I would imagine a curse tool expert such as yourself to see your tools as more than simple objects.” 

Todo’s response prompted Maki to contemplate the weapon in her possession, weighing it in her palm before dismissing the line of thought entirely. 

“Not this one. I would rather be caught dead than let it become associated with any part of me. Just holding it makes me sick.”

The two second-years beside her nodded in agreement, leaving Yuji without answer as to why such a useful special grade cursed tool would have earned their disdain.

“Tuna Tuna.” Inumaki strained his voice, raspy and barely audible to accompany the finger pointing over Yuji’s shoulder, with Panda tapping a claw against his chin in understanding.

“Yeah, Satoru really did a number on the school this time.” 

‘A number’ was not Yuji’s first choice to use when referring to the destruction that lay meters away from their feet. The landscape was beyond repair, eternally scarred by the blast that ravaged through with no opposition having stood in its way. Todo and Yuji had been forced to fall back and brace for not the impact, but the sheer volume of cursed energy flowing outward from the technique, shaping the winds into a deadly storm, further tearing apart what little remained in its wake.

Yuji had witnessed his sensei’s power before. Both as an unfortunate observer in his fight against Sukuna and then during their shared encounter with the Mt. Fuji-headed curse a couple of months ago. Despite the clear damage to the school buildings, he mistakenly underestimated both Gojo and Sukuna’s power as anything more than two powerful fighters with strength and reflexes more refined than his own. Melee fighters to rival that of the shōnen manga he’d torn through in his spare time.

After Sukuna’s fight with the Finger Bearer and Gojo’s usage of his domain: Infinite Void, Yuji truly understood that his presumptions were wrong. He was surrounded by individuals with an arsenal of techniques that he was unaware of. A realization that was only ingrained into his head further upon turning around and gazing at the haunting aftermath.

As much as his sensei boasted about being the strongest, it was moments like these that made Yuji believe it.

“I guess that’s special grades for you. You have to wonder, has Satoru officially done more damage to the campus than Su—”

“I don’t even want to hear that name.” Maki groaned aloud, her grip tightening on the staff with a murderous look in her eye. A silent threat for Panda to stop, only to pause before conceding with a thought of her own. “That idiot helped pay for the repairs last time, didn’t he? He’ll get billed for this mess, that’s for sure. Bet it won’t even make a dent in his checkbook.”

“Shake.”

Yuji’s thoughts hadn’t lingered on the cut-off name. Nor the mention of an attack prior to this one, his exhausted mind had put the bulk of his brain power to adding the amount of zeros he could only guess were necessary to pay for today’s damages. To imagine that much wealth was insanity to him, but knowing how frivolous a spender Gojo was, he’d have to believe it.

It was only when revisiting the memory, did Yuji pay attention to what his upperclassman had said.

“All of you on the track! Report to the briefing room immediately! We have a situation in Tokyo! All able-bodied sorcerers have been requisitioned from the top!” 

Principle Yaga shouting reached Yuji’s ears from across the field. The man waited only for their heads to turn and acknowledge his words before storming off in search of the other students who were not as easily found. Whatever was going on, it had to be big if even the students were being pulled into something the adults should be more than capable to handle alone, right?

“You heard the man, didn’t you? Let’s move!” Kugisaki scolded the rest of the group, comprised of Panda, Inumaki and Yuji for the day’s training. Fushiguro and Maki were continuing their one-on-one lessons that day, and besides the short time they spent together in the briefing room, this was the last Yuji had seen any of them before their departure. 

“You’re becoming more like Maki every day.” Panda whined, picking up the pace as the trio jogged behind her. 

“For your sake, I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“What do you guys think is going on?” Yuji ignored the smug look on Kugisaki’s face, turning to Panda for answers. “All able-bodied sorcerers? Isn’t that overkill, especially when we have sensei—Not that I’m complaining!”

“I’m sure we’ll learn everything we need to know when we get there. Still…” Panda hummed, temporarily falling behind as something in the passing courtyard had caught his eye. Curious, Yuji slowed his steps in an attempt to see what his senpai was looking at, confused when nothing but an open space greeted them. “If this is anything like the Night Parade, then bringing everyone in is far from an overreaction.”

“The Night Parade?” 

The two were forced into a short sprint, falling back in line with Inumaki as they continued their trek across the grounds.

“I keep forgetting you don’t know what happened since it was kept from the public, but the short of it is that it was a terrorist attack on both Tokyo and Kyoto last December. Cursed spirits were released onto the streets and all the available Sorcerers were called in. Even us students. You may have noticed the school grounds were a bit messed up in some places even before our exchange event, and that’s because the curse user responsible decided to show up here.”

“Okaka.” Inumaki continued to face forward, his cross expression poking out from his collar no matter how deep he hid behind it.

Panda continued, “You got that right. The point is, Yuta took the guy down, and Satoru made sure it remained that way. What we’re dealing with now won’t be anything worth comparing to… probably.”

“Probably?” A not-so-flattering snort came from the front as Kugisaki spun her hammer between her fingers. “Even if it is, I’m sure we’ll be fine. The world kept spinning last time, didn’t it?”

At the time, his classmate’s words had been enough to move on.

The past was in the past. Nothing could be done about it, and worrying would only get in the way of focusing on the mission at hand. 

Ironically, both Panda and Kugisaki were right about the incident that followed.

There was no comparing the Night Parade of a Hundred Demons to the attack on Shibuya. The utter devastation among the city, its populace and the rest of Japan in the days to follow was beyond anything that could have come out of the Night Parade— To cover up Shibuya would be impossible, with one curse to ensure that was the case. And when the dust settled and Yuji was left to wander what remained to fight cursed spirit after cursed spirit that had been released among the ruins…

The world kept spinning regardless. 

“Before we go, I have to ask…” Okkotsu directed his question to Fushiguro, pausing before he decided to backpedal his thoughts. “Itadori wasn’t the only one to receive an execution order from the higher ups after the attack. There’s a man whose name shouldn’t have been— They’re blaming Geto Suguru for this. His involvement was the final excuse the elders needed to declare Gojo-sensei’s unsealing a criminal act. He shouldn’t be— Tell me the truth.”

Geto… That was the name that woman had used when she addressed Noritoshi Kamo.

Fushiguro’s face responded to Okkotsu with equal amounts of contempt. He was about to respond, to explain the stitches they witnessed on Kamo’s head—the fucked up reality they lived in.

“As Tsukumo explained it—” As Fushiguro was about to speak, he was quickly cut off by the sight of Okkotsu’s grip on his katana tightening to a dangerous degree. 

The weapon shook in his hand, the tip of its sheath was pressed into the ground, not doing enough to hold it steady. The shikigami he’d summoned before— Rika —fought to manifest behind him. Their spike of energy had little time for buildup, catching the rest of the group by surprise as her claws extended over his shoulder, fangs about to follow suit in preparation for her entire form to show itself before the second-year wrapped his fingers round one of her elongated fingers.

“It’s ok, Rika… He’s not here now.” A whisper came first, soothing the shikigami’s wrath before the underlying growl could grow into an all out roar. 

“That man said—”

“I know what Gojo-sensei said.” Okkotsu continued to look out into nothing, eyes settled somewhere off in the distance, past the two first-years in front of him completely. 

“HE’S A LIAR!”

The shikigami free limb thrashed against the concrete below them, shattering it with little effort, repeatedly slamming her fist into the ground until there was nothing left but gravel and dust. Her energy shot out in droves, both as a beacon to the world that there were sorcerers about amongst these curse-claimed streets, and as a warning for each and every one of them to steer clear or be annihilated on the spot.

“LIAR! LIAR! LIAR! HE HURT YUTA! HE SHOULD BE DEAD—!”

“Rika, please settle down. I’m fine now, see?” 

Snapping away from whatever memory had caught up with him, Okkotsu tilted his head up, raising his hand to caress the side of Rika’s face. He continued to repeat the action until she eventually calmed, and the air around their temporary camp had fallen still. Numb to the destruction she had caused, Okkotsu then turned to the group in apology.

“I’m sorry about her. Rika’s very protective of me. She truly means well. You have to understand, we’d thought we’d seen the last of him during the…”

Okkotsu’s voice trailed off, granting an opening for Choso to raise his hand and catch their attention.

“If I may, the one responsible for the attack and for your sensei’s sealing, is who we know to be Noritoshi Kamo. The body Kamo inhabits, however, is to whom your elders have placed blame.”

Yuji could only nod to confirm this, having witnessed the exchange between Choso and Kamo himself. The man did not deny Choso’s accusation, going so far as to admit that the name was one of many, shameless in the countless bodies he’d taken throughout the centuries. Even now, they couldn’t be sure how long this… thing has been around, or how far back his machinations went. 

The answer was supposed to be, in some twisted way, relieving… wasn’t it? The man who had caused them harm was still dead, his body puppeted by another. But Okkotsu’s face did not show relief, only sorrow as his eyes fell between his feet. 

“Your one and only… huh?”

Only now did Yuji understand why Okkotsu couldn’t find relief. 

Gojo had insisted that Yuji try one of the parfaits listed on the menu. Strawberries and blueberries, accompanied by little gummy bears on top. He had already ordered and paid for it. 

Knowing how pushy both past and future versions of his sensei were, Yuji had given up on trying to argue with him. Too tired to fight back, he felt guilty when Gojo expectedly ran off, if only for the fact the older teenager wouldn’t see the dessert fall apart in the heat. The cake grew soggy, and the bears Yuji left uneaten had sunk further into the dish, drowning just out of his sight.

Breakfast had been a challenge to force down. Yuji wasn’t going to push his stomach any further than he had to. Not when there was something else weighing on his mind.

“You’re not going to say it, are you?”

“I don’t want to make things worse if I do!”

“We will talk about it later when you're ready.”

As if anyone could be ready for the conversation that awaited him. 

His phone was now dead, commandeered by his older brother who had to work overtime to drill it into Yuji’s head that losing access to his phone wasn’t the death sentence he perceived it to be—Yuji knew that! He knew! But the emotions were… hard to grapple under his control. Maybe some time apart from it would do him some good?

On the plus side, in direct opposition to the events that were hellbent on sending Yuji’s mind through an emotional train wreck, he had calmed down considerably since his initial outburst within the dining hall. His encounter with Geto could have certainly ended better. But somehow, despite everything wrong between them, the older teenager’s thoughts on Yuji’s guilt stuck with him, alleviating the pain in his chest just enough to face Nanami directly. If only to make up for his less than stellar first impression.

Nanami’s younger counterpart was just as patient with Yuji as the man he’d come to know and respect, and he was grateful for that.

From where Yuji sat, the ability to watch Nanami begrudgingly socialize with the rest of his peers— underneath it all, Yuji suspected he rather enjoyed their company —there was some level of delight in seeing their antics unfold. Even if the pain of knowing what could very well still happen in the years to come weighed on him. 

Yuji shook his head, determined to stop falling into the same mental pitfalls over and over again.

His sensei assured him that things would change. If Gojo was so adamant on the matter, surely Yuji could share in his confidence as well. All they had to do was continue doing what was necessary to ensure that change would happen— for the better. 

It had to.

And what was necessary now, was working up the courage to once again speak with Geto. To tell him the truth. Warn him of what happens after— All of it. Yuji had to stop beating around the proverbial brush and just be honest with him and maybe Geto won’t initiate a terrorist attack a decade from now. 

“Or maybe he’ll course correct the mistakes in his methodology and do something far worse.”

Yuji’s brow twitched at the unwelcome voice laughing in the deep recesses of his mind. The teenager was sure he’d chucked Sukuna as far back into his subconscious as he could, but persistent as he was, the King of Curses was bound to resurface, eventually. 

“Shut it, asshole.” Seething in his seat , the teenager’s thoughts were sent out blind into the darkness, hoping to pierce a target immune to his attack. “I’m not listening to anything you have to say.”

“You are though, aren’t you? You don’t have a choice, especially when such thoughts originate from your own doubt.” The curse was taunting him. Oh, how Sukuna loved to taunt him. “I have to admit, watching you fumble about this is quite amusing. I can only see the countless ways this confrontation is bound to come back to bite you and I don’t even have to lift a finger.”

“If you don’t approve, then I must be doing the right thing.” Yuji grumbled under his breath, his teeth grinding behind sealed lips as he forced the curse out of his ears, regaining control of the thoughts which dwelled in his head. 

The curse’s presence had once been tolerable. Annoying, but by no means did Sukuna impair his normal day-to-day living beyond the immediate execution sentence—and subsequent postponement—hovering overhead and the time he ripped Yuji’s heart out and forced him to play dead for a few months. Rarely did the curse ever engage with him. And when he did, their interactions were brief and easy to dismiss with enough willpower to shove the curse as far back as Yuji could force him.

Shibuya had changed that.

Sukuna made his mark on the city, its people, and his host, to whom he would not stop etching the same emotional scars into his soul when there was no longer blood to be found. Each word the curse spoke unleashed a sea of boiling rage. Yuji’s patience with him had eroded completely.

“Fuck off. Optimistic thoughts only!”

To further hammer the point into place, Yuji slapped both sides of his face, shocking his system into action as he prepared himself for what awaited him, much to Choso’s concern. His older brother tilted his head, waiting for an answer he knew was bound to follow as the red around the imprint of Yuji’s hands spread further than it should have. It had taken Yuji a second longer to realize he’d hissed his last thought aloud. Luckily for him, Choso’s ears had been the only ones to pick up on it.

“Um… I was…” 

“Working through some things?” Choso supplied his answer for him, all too aware of the excuse Yuji would use to avoid retreading his internal disputes.

“Yeah. That’s it.”

Yuji leaned against Choso’s arm, missing the ability to bundle himself into his hoodie when in need of comfort. Unable to shake the remnants of Sukuna’s taunts from his head, the teenager turned around to hazard a glance at the table behind him.

With Gojo running off and Ieri harassing the second-years at the third table of this makeshift triangle, Geto sat alone. His section of the table bare. Unlike his peers, Geto hadn’t ordered anything. He had escaped Gojo’s demands by accepting the complimentary water, but even that had gone untouched. The full glass of lukewarm water rested next to his elbow. The older teenager appeared more interested in staring at the passing crowd than anything else.

“Did something happen between the two of you while you were alone?” It was obvious Choso was referring to Geto, unhappy with whatever answer he’d already come to. 

“Nothing to worry about. I don’t think… I mean, we just talked. Mostly about Nanami. Geto-san knows I’ve been avoiding talking about his future, so I can’t put it off any longer. He wants to know the truth. I don’t blame him for that, but… He won’t like what I have to say.”

“I believe we have different definitions of what should warrant my concern.” Choso followed Yuji’s eyes over to where he was looking, the both of them remaining silent for a moment before turning back around to speak amongst themselves. His brother’s attention then fell to Yuji fidgeting in his seat. “I doubt anyone would want to hear of their own misfortune. If you’re planning on informing him now, would it be better to wait until your sensei returns to speak with them together?”

“I don’t know. To be honest, I think Gojo-sensei might react even worse than Geto-san. But Geto-san’s harder to talk to. I don’t know him, but he reminds me of Fushiguro a bit.” The scene at the bus stop flashed in Yuji’s mind. Gojo and Ieiri were quick to grab onto Geto’s arms upon his arrival and as annoyed as Geto was with their invasion of personal space, he didn’t deny them it either. Geto wouldn’t have come out today if he didn’t want to be there to some degree. 

Geto didn’t hate the people around him. If anything, he’s shown more concern than what Yuji had expected from him if his caution and scrutiny was anything to go by.

“Trying to keep everything all bottled up until it breaks… At least, if I talk to him now, the pressure might not be as bad.”

“I see. My knowledge of these sorcerers is limited, consisting of the information passed on to me during my time with Kamo and his cursed spirit allies and what recent events have thrown at us. If you're confident in your decision, then I’ll share in that confidence as well.”

“Thank you. You’re the best.” Yuji wrapped his arms around Choso and gave him a light squeeze, thankful for his brother’s continuous support. It was the extra nudge he needed to raise up from his seat, taking a fair amount of air for good measure. “I’m going to do this alone, and hopefully, make it less awkward. I’ll be sure to call for you if anything happens though, ok?”

“That’s all I can ask.” Choso whispered, his hand clutching onto Yuji’s sleeve to prevent him departing just yet. His brother didn’t need to say anything further. Yuji was going to be careful, regardless.

Every muscle tensed the moment Yuji shuffled over to Geto’s table. Yuji didn’t know what to do with his hands and in spite of the nervous energy causing them to twitch, he settled grabbing hold of them behind his back. He convinced himself that initiating the conversation was the hardest part, as it had been with everything else so far. All he had to do was speak up and grab his attention, but before Yuji could do so, Geto turned to face forward in his seat, the older teenager’s eyes catching Yuji in his peripheral as a result.

“Hi.” Yuji squeaked, his mind blanking on literally anything else that could have been said. To his embarrassment, Geto was startled to a far lesser degree.

“Itadori?”

He was about to say something further when the noise from the second-year plus one third-year table grew louder, Ieiri laughing over something in relation to Haibara, as he was the one making the most objection to whatever they were talking about. Nanami was hiding his reaction behind a napkin and Ijichi was brokering some sort of peace between the two— They looked like they were enjoying themselves. 

“Would you be with them if I hadn’t said anything earlier?” The thought slipped out before Yuji could catch himself. With how far removed Geto was to the others, Yuji couldn’t help but wonder why he hadn’t followed Ieiri over instead of sitting all by himself.

“Probably not.” Geto’s admission came with a sigh. “There’s been a lot on my mind for quite a while now.”

Ah. So it wasn’t Yuji’s fault. Somehow, that didn’t put his mind at ease.

“Did you need something?”

“No— I mean, yes!” Yuji spun around and plopped himself down in the empty chair beside Geto. “Um, I’m sorry. A lot has happened—and I keep saying that, but I wanted to tell you that I’m ready whenever you are, to talk! It doesn’t have to be now, but I won’t run away from telling you the truth any longer.”

“Wouldn’t you rather wait for Satoru?”

There it was, that question again.

“We can wait if you want, but I thought something like this would go better if we just talked one on one.”

Geto thought about it, casting a glance first to his classmates, then down the road to wherever Gojo had skipped off to. The lack of any sign that indicated Gojo’s immediate return must have been what swayed Geto one way over the other.

“Let’s go somewhere more private to speak. At least from those who can comprehend what is being said. A lap around the neighborhood? We can extend the boundary of our walk if need be, but I would assume your cursed spirit would grow agitated if we went too far.”

“Yeah. That works.” Yuji nodded, following Geto’s lead as the older teenager rose to his feet. A walk down a few public streets was not what Yuji would consider private, but considering how Geto put it, uninformed non-sorcerers wouldn’t understand talks of cursed spirits or time travel as anything but teenagers rambling about a movie or video game they were interested in. All make-believe speculation that would pass over their ears.

A piece of Yuji was relieved they wouldn’t be isolated, hoping that because there were people around, any reactions would be dulled in an effort to avoid making a scene.

“I guess, this way then.” Geto pointed down the road behind them, picking the direction that had them avoiding the group they were leaving behind, or else they may have to explain themselves.

The steps were taken, literally, and the two were off down the street with Yuji finding it harder to remain close to Geto’s side than it was to keep pace with his steps. The crowd was as dense. While the number of people overall had grown considerably throughout the day, the moment they took their first turn was when the pair experienced a reprieve from the bodies surrounding them, making it easier for Yuji to focus. Easier to collect himself. Easier to decide where to begin.

“We never met.” Yuji kept his eyes forward, all too aware that he’d likely stumble over something, if not his own two feet if he didn’t. “I’ve heard your name before, but seeing you yesterday was the first time I got to meet you.” Geto Suguru. Not Kamo Noritoshi.

“You refer to Satoru as your sensei.” Geto kept his eyes forward as well, hands tucked in his pockets, the rest of his posture failing to match in the lax nature he was attempting to uphold. "You use a nickname for Nanami in place of the honorifics you’ve attached to the rest of our names… My future counterpart did not pursue the same teaching career as Satoru, did he?”

“No.” You defected. Became a curse user. “You didn’t, you—”

Before Yuji could speak, a creature that could only be described as a squirrel with six legs and crumbled insect wings on its back scurried out from the alleyway and across their path. Two spheres bulged out from its head, and only when it turned to stare back at the only two people gawking at it, did Yuji confirm that those were eyes.

A cursed spirit.

Unbound to any master, running amok on the streets without restraint. 

The tiny monstrosity blinked twice, tilting its head to confirm that it had been perceived before bolting across the road, weaving in and out of the legs of those who would only mistake it for a passing breeze or their clothes rubbing against their legs. False, logical explanations to fill in the void where their senses could not. 

Instinct hadn't taken over once the scene had settled in. No, it was pure hatred that lunged Yuji forward as he gave chase to the creature before it could leave his sight. An aggressive honk assaulted his ears as he dashed across the road. A hand slapped the hood of the car, angered at the vehicle and its driver for attempting to move down the road when Yuji was the one who had impulsively run out in front of it. Geto shouted out Yuji’s name after that. 

The teenager was too honed in on the curse to slow down, his sneakers skidding on the sidewalk as he made the next turn at too harsh an angle with the speed he’d built up. People were getting irritated by him, though he did his best not to shove anyone too hard as he followed the damned thing down another road. The cursed spirit was surprisingly fast for having such tiny legs— But Yuji was faster.

The curse scuttled underneath a weathered chain spanning across the toril gate hidden amongst the residential and office buildings surrounding it, denoting the entrance to a small paved lot currently closed to the public. Entrances to several small shrines fed into this collective space, with the most notable being the structure furthest inside. The old building whose steps Yuji had flung himself forward on, his knees digging into the stone as he slid forward with both hands out, clutching the cursed spirit within his hands as hard as he could to ensure the creature would not wiggle free. 

“Gotcha.”

“Itadori!” Yuji looked up from his quarry to see Geto, stomping over the chain hanging in his way to catch up with the teenager so quick to abandon him. “Why did you—All that running, for that?”

Geto pointed at the cursed spirit, panting through his clenched teeth. The tiny creature continued to struggle within Yuji’s hands before the sorcerer gave it a good squeeze, forcing it into submission.

“It’s a cursed spirit. We can’t just let it run loose.” Pouting wasn’t exactly what Yuji was doing, but between the scolding and his own embarrassment for letting this little nuisance in his hand elicit such a strong reaction from him, Yuji grew a bit defensive.

“It’s barely a grade four. They’re more likely to be a minor nuisance than to cause harm.”

“Yes, but it's still better to get rid of it now before it can cause trouble or become a bigger problem down the line. Just in case.” Yuji stared at the cursed spirit, now limp between his fingers. The last time he held one this small was in Kawasaki. “I forgot they could be this tiny.”

Refusing to waste another second on this interruption, Yuji summoned enough cursed energy around his hands to build up enough force to destroy the cursed spirit with a grotesque pop. Any pieces left behind soon evaporated, leaving no evidence behind to prove that he had been holding something in the first place. Yuji did not find joy in doing this, but he couldn’t find remorse in doing it either. It had to be done.

“What do you mean by that? Does Satoru actually teach anything at that school? You should be familiar with the cursed spirits that always cling around the unseen corners of places that hold a high concentration of negative thought.”

“I know. And I am. I’ve become so used to fighting with higher-grade cursed spirits, the little ones don’t even register on my radar anymore. I guess I only reacted so badly because I haven’t come across any cursed spirits in the past yet. Yours don’t count, even if they make me a bit uncomfortable. I just keep reminding myself they’re under your control." Yuji gestured to nothing in particular, waving his hands about at the serene space as a means to prove his next point. "Everything’s a lot more peaceful than I’m used to.”

Geto’s annoyance faded after that, remaining quiet as there wasn’t any obvious response. Even something like an apology or sharing sympathies would ring hollow, so Yuji couldn’t blame him for refraining from even making the attempt.

At the very least, all the noise from the city street remained muted and distant, giving their conversation the much-needed focus it deserved. There weren't going to be any more distractions. No more delays. Yuji rolled over along the steps, willing to speak, unable to look as he revealed the truth he’d been so fearful of sharing.

“Geto-san, I’m not good at this. But I can’t—We’ve never met before yesterday. You aren’t around because you— because you're dead. You died before I enrolled in the school.”

“When?” Out of all the questions he could ask, that was the only one Geto could force himself to say.

“Last December. Almost a year ago.”

Yuji heard a sharp inhale, then a softer exhale through Geto’s nose as the older teenager gripped his chin. He didn’t respond with the same false amusement as his sensei. There was no making light of the truth.

“Of course. I would not imagine myself immune to death. Sorcerer’s die—”

“—It wasn’t by a cursed spirit, Geto-san.” 

Deciding it was worth the risk, Yuji glanced upward to see Geto nod, turn around and nod again, wrestling with the information as best he could before addressing it further. Geto stepped forward, taking the far end of the steps to sit down by Yuji as they had sat together previously.

Both of them were so tired. That was the only explanation Yuji could give for why the pair appeared so calm on the surface when underneath, it was anything but.

“What happened?” 

“I… I’m only telling you what I know from my senpais. Like I said, I enrolled in June. I don’t…” Yuji balled his fist and shoved his knuckles into the stone until he could feel the pressure taking its toll. “There was a terrorist attack. They called it The Night Parade of a Hundred Demons. Cursed spirits were used to attack Tokyo and Kyoto and the one responsible attacked the school— Attacked my senpais. They were only first-years. You were there— Your future self was there. He was the one who… I don’t know why your future self did it or what was going through his mind, but that’s what happened.”

There was no easy way to say it. No guidebook or advice Yuji could have possibly listened to that would have prepared him for telling someone that their future contained nothing but destruction and death, both of which were their own doing. 

Yuji shut his eyes and waited for Geto’s retaliation, whatever form it would take. Denial. Anger. Anguish. He was prepared to be called a liar, for the older teenager to get up and walk away without another word. One breath at a time, Yuji waited out the empty air between them as he folded his hands together and kept his head down, possessing no idea of what he should say next or if he should say anything more at all.

“Your hesitation makes sense now.” Geto didn’t move. He didn’t do anything other than remain where he was, falling back on the steps until Yuji heard his head hit the ground behind them. “I assume… Satoru was the one who—”

“Yeah.” Yuji breathed, sticking his head up to feel the light breeze circling through the empty courtyard. The glass wind chimes above their heads released a chorus of soft rings, the sound parting as quickly as it came when the wind settled at their feet. “I’m sorry.”

“What do you have to be sorry for? You had nothing to do with it. You’re only the messenger.” The messengers were the ones who got shot, weren’t they? “I understand why it’s so hard for you to look at me. It was selfish of me to get angry at you for that. If I were in your position, I don’t think I’d be able to humor speaking at all.”

Yuji felt his heart speed up again, threatening to tear itself out with assistance as he choked on the growing lump in his throat. Still, he pressed on.

“That’s not it. There’s… more.”

“More? What more could there possibly be?” 

Geto raised his head, pulling himself up to properly address the rest of what Yuji had to say. In return, Yuji opened his eyes and turned to him, doing his damnedest to hold himself together. 

He hated, detested— loathed thinking about him.

All it took was one blink, and they weren’t sitting on the shrine’s entrance steps. They were standing in Shibuya, amongst the ice and debris. Geto was smiling, content with how his plan had come to fruition, thanking Yuji for engaging with Mahito for as long as he had. If it had not been for the curse’s refined technique, the man wouldn’t have been able to accomplish what he’d schemed for years. The exact number was only known to him, but Yuji was now convinced he’d been playing this game for more than a millennium.

But it wasn’t Geto who stood triumphant. The stitches across his forehead were proof enough of that. Another blink, and the scene returned to Yuji’s present. The one beside him bore no stitches, no robes, and more emotion than Yuji had originally thought him capable, Geto was doing his best to prove otherwise.

Looking at him was hard. Not impossible. 

They weren’t one and the same.

“W-When I look at you, I see the man who sealed my sensei. The one who thanked me for chasing that fucking curse right to his feet. The one who brought about the beginning of what could very well be the end. T-The scar isn’t there, but it’s your face— Your voice. But it wasn’t you. It was him.”

Geto held his breath. His horror at the revelation was more obvious than anything else. As was his disgust, piecing together everything that Yuji shared, saying aloud the name he found himself too bitter to say.

“Kamo. The fake. He took my body— There shouldn’t have been a body.” The older teenager hissed, his stoic exterior cracking at the edges, his cursed energy lashing out alongside the apparitions of his subjected cursed spirits clawing from his shadow. “Satoru you fucking idiot! Not even mentioning the possibility of a vengeful spirit manifesting from all that— All you had to do was burn the fucking corpse! Of all the times you choose to be sentimental and look what came of it!”

Quick to turn away, the hand Geto let rest over his knee continued to flex its fingers, tensing up to the same rhythm as his cursed energy until the beat showed signs of slowing down. It had taken Yuji a moment to figure out that Geto was trying to sync his breathing up with this movement as well.

“The prison realm. Kamo. Satoru would not have fallen for such a trap without—Not with his Limitless. He should’ve—” Geto tore at his bangs, shoving them out of his face only for his nails to dig into the rest of his hair, only to pull out more strands than he started with to fall back over his face. “Arrogant. Cocky. Self-important —I’ve told him before that his hubris was bound to come back to haunt him. Never once did I imagine it to be this literal. He hasn’t changed.”

“You’re important to him. Sensei isn’t close with a lot of people. He’s great at pissing others off, which sucks because I think he’s lonely. He tries to hide it, but sometimes he gets lost in himself or the opposite happens, and he gets too involved in others to the point where it's infuriating, laughing it off like it's just who he is.” Yuji shrugged, working to piece together the rest of this line of thought. “I don’t know what I’m trying to say. I guess I’m mad at him too. Yet, I can’t stay mad at him because I get the reason why.”

“I shouldn’t have been...” Geto tossed his head back, staring at the wind chimes in response to the winds return with Yuji following suit. The paper strips dangling underneath fluttered about, threatening to entangle amongst themselves if they weren’t deliberately placed so far apart. “With all that said, what is it you intend to do about this? You’ve made it clear in your intention to change the future, what easier solution is there if not to get rid of the one piece responsible for so much harm?”

Was Geto referring to himself? He wasn’t asking if —

“What— No! I wouldn’t— That wouldn’t be right.”

“What do you mean? Is it not the same philosophy you used to justify in dealing with that cursed spirit not moments ago? You’re aware of the potential I have to do harm, would it not be best to put an end to the problem now before it could get worse?”

Yuji wasn’t able to tell if Geto was upset with the possibility of Yuji trading his life for a better future or the younger teenager’s apparent inability to abide by the same principles as before. The older teenager wasn’t yelling at him, but he wasn’t treating him with care either, pushing back against Yuji’s decision knowing full well it was spoken as an immediate reaction to the suggestion before the logic could be broken down. 

Why Geto would be so adamant either way was beyond him. Regardless, Yuji held his ground and maintained his decision.

“Yes, but— That was a cursed spirit. Cursed spirits are as bad as they are going to be. They do harm and lash out against people—no matter how much they grow, it’s always for the worse and nothing will change that. People though, people aren’t like cursed spirits. They have the potential to do just as much good in the world as the bad that may come from them.” 

Throwing his hesitation into the wind, Yuji scooted closer and reached out, grabbing hold of Geto's hand with his own. He was shaking, but he held on tight regardless, refusing to let go until he made the older teenager understand what he meant. 

“I don’t believe you are the same Geto Suguru I’ve only heard about from others. You obviously care about your classmates. I don’t believe you’re a bad person and while I don’t know what will happen or has already happened to cause what the future Geto did, there has to be a way to avoid that future without denying you a chance at something better. I have to believe that people are worth saving—That you’re worth saving.” 

That I was worth being saved.

“Maybe, I don’t know! Try talking things out with someone! I don’t know why the attack happened. I can only apologize for not trying to learn more, but I’m sure whatever happens now, sensei would listen to you if you both sat down and just talked for more than five minutes. And if he doesn’t, I’ll make him. Hell, I’ll listen if that is what you need. I’m not going anywhere anytime soon—”

“Itadori.” Geto knew attempting to pull away was pointless, but reaching out with his free hand to place on top of Yuji’s was enough to gesture the younger teenager to stop. To let go. To breathe. “It’s ok. You’re a very compassionate person. I would hate to burden you with what I’ve been coming to terms with.”

“Please. If not me, then with him. It doesn’t even matter if what you’re going through now has nothing to do with what happened in my time, I think just talking about it would help. Please promise me you’ll at least try.”

“I…” 

Geto hesitated. Yuji froze in place, waiting for his answer, only breathing when the older teenager finally spoke again.

“It won’t be right away, but I will make an effort to try.” That was as good as Yuji expected he would get. “But you know how Satoru is. He’s stubborn. And infuriating.”

“Yeah, but so are you.” Yuji covered his mouth, quick to then let go and clarify what he meant before the accidental insult could sink in. “I meant just the stubborn part! The way you two go back and forth—!”

“No, you’re right.” Geto let out a tired laugh, letting Yuji’s words be. “Shoko would have said the same thing. We’re both as stubborn as can be.”

“Sorcerers kind of have to be, to keep pushing through it all. It’s not entirely a bad thing.” Yuji paused to clear his throat before adding, "It’s those who know when to let go of that stubbornness are the ones who may find peace with others.”

“Aren’t you wise for your age?”

“Me? No, I’m just quoting some life advice I got from a gachapon machine. It came with this cute key chain of a cat, though I think I lost it in my dorm somewhere.” Now it was Yuji’s turn to laugh. A feat that came a lot easier than it should have been given the circumstances, but when Geto smiled at the ridiculous answer, the heavy conversation was momentarily left behind. 

Suddenly, a quick flash of light temporarily blinded their vision. 

The pair blinked in quick succession before turning their heads, caught off guard by Gojo standing a meter or so from the bottom of the steps. They really should have heard him approach, but between the wind chimes and the short laughing fit, neither picked up on him.

How long had Gojo been standing there?

“Satoru, what are you doing?” Geto was first to speak, his annoyance with his friend returning, but not in any way that was malicious. He was just as on edge as Yuji was.

“Playing with this new phone. I accidentally left the flash on and man, that was that bright. Also, I think you blinked Suguru, so I’m gonna have to take another picture for good measure.” Suguru lifted the device and tapped the screen with his thumb in rapid succession, the shutter sound of the digital camera lagging far behind his enthusiasm. “There. I’m sure one of these will do. Anyway, do either of you want to tell me why I had to track you both here? Aren’t you both too young to be planning on having kids?”

Gojo gestured at the shrine behind them, knowing something Yuji didn’t know about the building’s steps they were sitting on. Geto only scoffed, supplying his friend with an answer that, while truthful, omitted much of why they had parted from the group to begin with.

“Itadori caught sight of a cursed spirit and our pursuit led us here. We were going to return, but got a bit distracted.” Quick to move on, Geto pointed at the device in Gojo’s hand. “You just bought a new phone not too long ago. Why do you need another one?”

“It’s not for me, it’s for Yuji!”

All too eager to share what he’d brought with him in the bag in his hands, Gojo walked forward and joined the pair on the steps. He placed himself between the two, one step lower than they were, but his height kept them all at roughly the same level.

Yuji and Geto shot looks to one another behind his back, both silently agreeing to go along with his antics and stowing their prior conversation for a later time. They both were in need to decompress.

“Why did you buy me a new phone?”

“Cause I broke yours. On accident! Don’t worry, it’s in a nice little plastic bag along with all the accessories and junk that came with this new one.” Gojo handed off the newly purchased cell phone to a very confused Yuji, unsure if he should be grateful or pissed off at what he heard. “Be sure to show the first picture to future me when you guys figure out how to pop that box open. The look on his face when he sees younger me will be photo-worthy. I guarantee it.”

The home screen was weird. The icons weren’t hard to figure out, but this new (technically older) device was not the same brand Yuji was used to. It was a flip phone for crying out loud!

Once he’d figured out how to open the camera roll, Yuji was greeted with a selfie of the smirking teenager beside him making a peace sign for good measure. Gojo’s face was a bit redder than usual, though Yuji didn’t question it immediately, as he was more concerned over the why and how his sensei had gotten to this point.

“Ok, but why did you break my phone? How did you even—I gave it to Choso! Not you.” 

“Well, he gave it to me because—” Gojo stopped the bag at his feet and pulled out a thick paper envelope to pass on to Yuji. “—I was able to recover the pictures from your original camera roll. A lot easier than cobbling together a charger, and I know what you’re thinking: No, I didn’t figure out which photo you and Yaga were hiding from us. Your stupid secret is safe.”

“You—Good! Respect Yaga-san’s privacy.” Grumbling, Yuji snatched the photos into his arms. Still, he couldn’t be too mad at his sensei. It was because of Gojo he could pull back the envelope and see these memories again. He shouldn’t be relying so heavily on them, but just one look at a group photo of himself, Fushiguro, and Kugisaki walking through Tokyo… It was easier to ignore how mournful he was when they were smiling back at him. “Thank you for going out of your way.”

“No problem. All the rest of the crap you need for the new phone is in the bag. I just sort of bought what they recommended plus or minus a few things. It’s not as fancy as your old one, but it’s the best we got in the long begotten year of 2007.” Gojo waved his hand over Geto’s face. “I’ll get you something next time.”

“What a scary thing to look forward to.”

“Oh, hush.” Before Yuji could tuck the photo away, Gojo shifted his attention over to it, tapping at the edge of the corner with interest. “This is the first-year class?”

“Yup. That’s Kugisaki Nobara and the guy on the other side of me is Fushiguro Megumi!”

 Yuji was proud to share them, especially to his sensei since they were his future students as well. His glee was short-lived when he looked up at the two older teenagers, neither as excited as he was to hear their names. Geto’s reaction was expected, given current circumstances, but to find his sensei was also put off by the information had Yuji concerned. Gojo had gone quiet for a moment too long, leaving the younger teenager to wait for a curious hum to break the odd feeling he’d done something wrong.

“Huh, I knew I was right, but it still sounds weird to hear it out loud.”

“Hear what out loud?”

“Fushiguro.” Geto answered him indirectly, repeating the name for his own benefit as he turned to Gojo. “That’s not a common surname.”

“Nope. It isn’t.” His sensei pulled the photo out from Yuji’s hands and lifted it in the air. “He’s like a mini version of Toji. Isn’t that funny?”

It wasn’t funny, or else someone would be laughing.

“Who’s Toji?” Yuji pressed for an answer, reaching out for his photo to be returned to him. It was only when he threatened to climb over top Gojo did the older teenager stop fighting him on it to answer the question.

“You don’t know?” 

Yuji shook his head. Obviously not if he was asking.

“He’s the guy who almost killed me. Stabbed me real good in the head, but I pulled a fast one on him and figured out how to use the reverse cursed technique and returned the favor. His kid—Megumi? He got most of his looks from his old man.”

Um, what? Fushiguro’s dad tried to kill their sensei? 

That was what Gojo had said, but the information took a moment to sink in, especially as Yuji glanced back at the photo of his friend in his hand. And to know that Fushiguro’s dad is— Did Fushiguro know?

“Why? Why was he trying to kill you?”

“Does anyone need a reason?” Gojo was trying to keep Yuji calm as he laughed off his concern, but they were already long past that, so his sensei sighed and gave him a proper explanation. “He was after this girl we were assigned to look after. Riko. She was a vessel, kinda like you. But instead of consuming a cursed object to be possessed by a cursed spirit, she was supposed to merge with Master Tengen.”

Supposed to.

Geto turned away, refusing to comment. Not that Yuji couldn’t figure it out for himself what happened.

“Oh.”

“That was about a year ago. Bastard had a few tricks up his sleeve that we weren’t ready for. Found a way to negate my cursed technique and almost did me in. There’s a lesson in there about confirming your kills or something about destroying the head, I’m sure you can put it together.” Yuji had put it together alright. Unintentional as it may have been, his sensei was a hypocrite. But instead of continuing this line of thought, Gojo moved back to asking about Fushiguro specifically. “Shouldn’t Megumi’s surname be Zenin? I thought the clan would take him in because he inherited that special technique of theirs—I saw him doing the hand signs in one of those later photos. I’ve heard some stories of the ten shadows technique, but I haven’t gotten to witness it in action before.”

“No. Fushiguro is Fushiguro. He was never sold to the Zenin clan.” Yuji attempted to recall the memory of when he found out Maki and Fushiguro were related. His friend had been reluctant, but he explained it simple enough before their sensei could catch onto the conversation. “Future you stopped it before it could go through.”

“Why would I do that?” Gojo hadn’t appeared apprehensive to the idea, but his response wasn’t what Yuji had expected either. 

“I don’t know. But you did him a favor. Between what Maki-senpai and Fushiguro had told me, the Zenin clan sucks.”

“I couldn’t agree more. Gojo clan all the way!” A smirk appeared underneath his sensei’s glasses, remaining even as he took back what he said. “Actually, screw them too. No one from the major clans is worth your time. Except me, I’m the lovable exception.”

That wasn’t entirely true. There were a handful of people Yuji would drop everything for, regardless of which clan they descended from or not. 

Still, his sensei’s mindset troubled him. That kind of thought… and with no knowledge of why Gojo would step into Fushiguro’s life other than maybe an odd sense of obligation, Yuji didn’t want such talk to ruin their impression of Fushiguro. Especially because of what his father had done.

“Fushiguro is an exception too. He was the first sorcerer I met, and while he always looks pissed off at everyone, he cares a lot about the people close to him. The day I swallowed that finger, Fushiguro’s the one who asked you to spare my life.” Yuji smiled, able to hold up Fushiguro’s picture with more confidence than ever. “There’s no person I’d rather have watching my back.”

With no one reaching out to stop him this time, Yuji slid the photo in with the rest and placed it in the bag with the rest of Gojo’s purchases. 

“I… really wish I could know if he’s ok. Choso and I were returning to the school with Fushiguro and Okkotsu-senpai when we got separated. Suddenly we’re in the past, and we couldn’t sense either of their cursed energy at all. We walked all over until my legs gave out!” Yuji whined, rubbing his calves as the pain from yesterday still lingered in his memory. 

“Do you think they were displaced alongside you?” 

Yuji lifted his head up to answer Geto’s question.

“At first, but after going so long without finding either of them… they could have been left behind. Unless they ended up appearing somewhere else, I don’t think they came with us. I feel like we should have run into them by now, if not in Shibuya then maybe at the school since that was where we were going to in the first place. They’re both pretty strong, so I really shouldn’t be worrying about them.”

“I’d be more concerned if you didn’t worry about them.” Gojo stretched his arms above his head before propelling him off the steps to stand in front of them. “I’ll admit, I was kind of interested in meeting this fourth special grade sorcerer to see how we compare. Oh, well. How about we head back to the rest of the group now, yeah? I’m beat.”

“You, the great Gojo Satoru, are beat?” Geto raised an eyebrow as he got up, remaining on the steps while Yuji was more eager to stand by Gojo’s side. 

His sensei was the first to start walking, the other two following suit as they made their way to the entrance.

“Tired." His sensei corrected, "No need to make a big deal out of it! Happens to everyone—Now come on, if we don’t get moving, they’ll take the next bus without us, and then we’ll either have to wait almost two hours for the next one or walk, and I don’t think either of you wants to carry me.”

“Choso wouldn’t leave us behind.”

“Goodie. Then he can carry me.”

“As if.” 

Yuji rolled his eyes, already imagining what that scene would look like. Bridal style or on Choso’s back… the thought alone was enough to distract Yuji from the lack of conversation during the early steps of their trek. The noisy city atmosphere had done more than enough to fill the rest. But when he glanced down at his gifted bag of goods, Yuji came to an unexpected halt. Tripping over his own feet, Yuji stumbled forward just far enough to make a scene. He caught himself before the pavement could, a single thought flashing in his mind as he stared up at his sensei, now spun around to see what had happened.

“You ok?”

Gojo’s glasses had been shoved tightly against his face since he showed up at the shrine. Walking must have shaken them from their perch on his nose, just enough for the upper edge of his eyes to poke out from behind them, revealing hints of red that hadn’t been there before.

His sensei had printed out his photos. Gojo had admitted to going through them. He saw everything Yuji had kept on saved on his camera roll. Every person. Every place. Every little thing that had caught Yuji’s attention— He knew Geto wasn’t in his photos.

He knew Geto wasn’t in Yuji’s life— Yuji’s future —and he hadn’t said a damn thing about it.

Why?

"Yeah, I'm ok. I wasn't looking where I was going." Yuji picked himself up, wiping the dirt of his knees. "Are you… ok?"

"Always!" Gojo turned around, only to raise a finger in the air when an idea crossed his mind. "If you keep fumbling like that, maybe you're the one who needs to be carried. Luckily, I think you’ll have a better time convincing your big brother than me.”

Why are you lying?

Chapter Text

There was a morose sense of irony in that when standing next to Satoru, the pain in Suguru’s chest felt as if it were on the cusp of killing him. Unwelcome hands praying open his ribs and fishing for his heart, to place his hand down over where the phantom pain originated did not do enough to convince him it was anything but an unconscious reaction to the knowledge he’d willingly sought after.

The three of them met up with the rest of their group outside the same café Suguru and Itadori had left them at. Little changed during their absence, and predictably, Choso was quick to reclaim Itadori from the older teenagers while assessing his current state in silence. 

The curse knew of the conversation that had taken place. No expression Suguru could give would provide a satisfactory answer on how it went, but the fact that both Yuji and himself returned quiet and willing to follow along after Satoru’s whims as he gathered the group together was enough for the curse’s usual glare to cease. In fact, Suguru would dare say the look he’d received was almost apologetic, but he was quick to toss the idea aside as the curse was still well aware of the willful acts Suguru’s future counterpart had committed before his body’s possession. 

Somehow, that had been the least surprising thing Suguru had learned. He knew a part of him was concerned that his innate reaction had been tame, all things considered, and that his own acceptance of the news came with so little objection. Another piece of him simply didn’t care, too preoccupied with the events which followed to dare question the steps which led up to it.

“There you guys are!” Haibara stood on the tips of his toes, wildly waving over the crowd even after he got their attention. “We have to get moving if we don’t want to miss the bus!”

As if the bus ride was any less suffocating than the city they were in. 

It was fortunate for them that the bus had enough space to accommodate all eight of them. Flocking to the back, they claimed the cluster of available seats, splitting in the same pattern of small groups as they had at the café and the ride before this one. Suguru was among the first to get on, and he claimed a window seat, with Satoru naturally falling into the seat next to him.

His friend angled himself so that his feet were in the aisle, sitting sideways in his seat with no regard for how his shoulder would smack into the seat in front of him every time the driver made a harsh stop if his Limitless wasn’t activating right before impact. One of the most highly regarded cursed techniques in history, and Satoru used it for the most undeserving of things. The argument could be made that the activation was more or less automatic at this point, but Satoru moved and spoke with the knowledge of its existence in mind. He also could turn it off whenever he pleased. 

Suguru hadn’t felt the touch of infinity in over two years. Even now, he could reach out his hand and never feel the technique’s presence. Nothing would prevent his palm from resting against Satoru’s back… But he still couldn’t bring himself to touch him.

Satoru sat next to him, grinning ear to ear and talking his heart out over whatever meaningless topic that tumbled into his head. Until he wasn’t. Until Satoru’s voice faded out with his lips slow to close after. He turned to the front of the bus, just far enough to take himself out of the group but not enough for his eyes to land on Suguru. The whole scene slowed down to a crawl, speeding up back to the present mere seconds later when Satoru let out a laugh and dived back into the new topic in the air as if he’d been paying attention all along.

A wall unlike any other before it had been erected between them, and as much as Suguru was willing to admit his own withdrawal was a cause, he wasn’t as certain that he bore the sole responsibility.

When they finally arrived at their stop, Suguru was quick to separate himself from the talk of movies and other lazy day activities Satoru and Haibara were so eager to suggest once the time-traveling pair was returned to the guest house. Ijichi had already excused himself to continue his own studies once they passed through the front gates. And while Nanami had attempted to do the same and even suggest his fellow second-year join him, his arm was tightly bound in Haibara’s grasp and subsequently, twisted into going along with whatever else this free day entailed.

With all the commotion, the freedom to slip away down the nearest stone path was Suguru’s to take. His own steps grew faster once he was out of view as a new destination had come to mind during the final stretch of their lengthy ride. What had simply been a bid for some much-needed solitude in his dorm had turned into a search for something more, a goal to keep his mind focused and his body moving toward something. Anything. Though in this case, there would be a benefit if his search was fruitful. 

Soon, the building Suguru was after landed in his sights. Two doors stood in his way, neither locked nor stubborn when it came to pry them apart and granting himself entry to the room that lay beyond them. 

The Technical College’s Archives. 

A venerable, comprehensive library spanning multiple floors that dug further into the ground with each descending level. The Tokyo branch and its sister school in Kyoto were a fundamental cornerstone of the Jujutsu world. Their collective knowledge, while cut at the knees with the number of techniques and other hidden secrets kept from leaking out from the clans themselves, was still vast enough to be considered a valuable tool to all students and alumni. 

There was no digitally constructed database to facilitate a dive into the collection of texts before him. Anyone who wished to access the archives had to do so in person. A rather trivial, but annoying inconvenience given that there was no good reason to avoid transcribing the texts when it would only benefit their continued effort for preservation, as many of the old tomes and scrolls kept within these walls had no copy. But it would seem the elders in charge of maintaining their unparalleled hoard of information would rather cling to a century that has since past, too afraid of the original texts being obsolete.

That thinking was what led to this library’s stagnation.

This was not the first time Suguru had visited the seemingly endless rows of aging shelves and cluttered tables full of abandoned books and half-written notes of those who came before him. Nor was it the first time that Suguru had come in search of information regarding cursed objects. 

Last November, when the month was nearing its end, Suguru had worked up the will to summon that accursed worm he’d taken possession of after Fushiguro Toji's fate was left in Satoru's hands. A chance thought reminding him of how many tools the man had in his possession led to Suguru’s own curiosity getting the better of him. Alone in his dorm, the contents of the worm’s stomach were spewed out onto the floor, leaving him with more questions than answers on what he now had at his disposal.

He’d never sought to report this event to anyone. Not to the elders. Not his sensei. Not even Satoru, wishing to leave any mention of that assassin in the past where it belonged. If his lie had been found out, he’d first argue his own forgetfulness in knowing the curse held anything more inside it in the first place. Until then, such powerful tools he’d gained would not be returned to the very hands he’d grown to distaste if he could help it.

Returning to the section he once spent hours sifting through during his ample time in solitude, Suguru got to work on finding the only book he could recall ever mentioning the item of his fixation: The Prison Realm .

The name had not been foreign to him when Choso spoke it the night prior. His description brought pieces of Suguru’s memory into place, confirming that there had been a key detail missing in how the cursed object functioned and for the life of him, Suguru could not remember what that detail was.

But even through his diligence and all the dust burning through his nose, Suguru’s own thoughts continued to betray him by wandering away from the task at hand. All too eager to replay Itadori’s words again and again, Suguru let out a curse as he threw another useless tome on the growing pile beside him. The slam which echoed out into the empty building did nothing but make his frustration all the more apparent.

Of course his future counterpart wouldn’t remain idle in this life forever. Not that it had done him or anyone else any good. Suguru failed. Itadori’s botched execution was proof enough of that! The school. The system. None of it appeared to have changed from the routine they are trapped in now.

Whatever intent his counterpart had in his actions, it all brought nothing but pain and death to the very few people he showed any semblance of attachment to.

A terrorist attack.  

That was how Itadori referred to the event that would mark the grim end of his future counterpart.

Oh, how his life culminated into that moment. Sending curses to attack cities while he himself struck the school directly. To target children— What possible reason could future Suguru have to justify doing something so abhorrent? Suguru could still taste the bile clinging to his mouth from the first time he’d heard it. No amount of swallowing could send it back to where it came. No amount of forced denial could hide the truth of what his counterpart had done. Had there truly been no other option?

Or had something driven him too far off the encroaching edge that Suguru was all too aware of?

Far enough that even Satoru wouldn’t follow him. Maybe Suguru shouldn’t be so surprised that a future version of himself had been pushed too far, but what he couldn’t get an answer for was just how willing he’d been to jump when that final push occurred.

Suguru would not lie and say he hadn’t been eyeing that edge for quite some time. Always with caution. His feet remained unable to take the next step forward, yet refused to retreat from where he began all the same.

Agonizingly idle. 

And after all that, even in death, Suguru’s future knew no peace. 

His own body, his own damn corpse had been used against Satoru. The insanity of it all. To make him an unwilling accomplice to seal away the one person who could put a stop to this madness. To facilitate a death match between sorcerers, the very people he was so sick of watching burn out and suffer under the weight the rest of the world put on their shoulders. It was the farthest thing he could ever want. 

His counterpart had been turned into nothing more than a pawn. A pawn that when maneuvered just right, prayed on Satoru’s closely guarded weakness that did not disappear after Suguru defected. Nor did it disappear after he seemingly declared war on the populace and went after his students—Satoru should have despised him. Loathed him. Cast him out and cursed him to death. And maybe he had. But something told Suguru that what they had could not be boiled down to something so simple.

Suguru would first call time travel and the serendipitous nature of their current predicament undeniably cruel, but he soon accepted the notion that it was not through malicious means that his future had been set out before him. To live a life bound in a system that punished and whittled down the strong actively serving the weak who could not defend themselves, and to seek a means to change that unnecessary suffering, only for nothing to show for it. For the world to then fall, apart at the seams with his puppeted corpse to be the face of it all—Time was not cruel. It was not a person that human emotions could be imposed on. 

Time was apathetic. It was those existing within it who perceived their newly gained insight as a blessing or a curse in itself. 

And right now, Suguru couldn’t say with any certainty which it truly was.

When Suguru’s hand fell on the next book that awaited him, his familiarity with the weight in his hands told him this was what he’d been looking for. Quick to pour over the pages, Suguru skimmed through page after page of unimportant history prefacing what he uncovered as the horrid sketch of the special grade cursed object that a version of Satoru was sealed inside.

He swore the multiple eyes of the sketch, as rough and messy as the depiction was, stared back directly at him. Through him. Mocking him. Already aware of the purpose it would serve in a time that has yet to come.

Suguru let out a scoff, turning away for a moment to get a hold of himself before turning back to eye the remaining contents of the page. How absurd it was to be unnerved by nothing more than a drawing. 

It was the mechanics of the Prison Realm he was after. While leaning on the speculative side, the book’s knowledge on some of the forbidden cursed objects that had been, presumably, lost to time. Much of the book had been blotted out as well, and it must have been through some oversight that such a text now rested in Suguru’s hands, but all he needed was on the next set of pages after the image he’d prefer to purge from his memory.

The Prison Realm was essentially a living barrier. One that could not stretch beyond a very small radius while requiring a handful of minutes to capture whatever target was put in its path. Anything beyond that was unknown, especially in the means used for its activation. Suguru’s first thought was an obvious command word, but that did nothing to ease the rising tide of anger within him.

Contact at a short distance should have been prevented with Satoru’s Limitless. Weariness of such a strange and unnerving object should have sent an immediate reaction to jump back. Move. Do anything else other than gawk at it until his fate was sealed. 

Suguru’s face was used to prevent that from happening. His purpose was that of a distraction. To pull on already broken heartstrings. A betrayal that Suguru knew he could never willingly follow through no matter how divergent their paths may take them. 

Too tired to stand, Suguru dropped to the ground and crossed his legs, allowing his head to fall against the bookcase, unbothered by the wobbling which followed as the few books that remained on its barren shelves tumbled about above his head. 

Wracked with guilt. Burdened by disgust at his own sense of morality that could no longer align with the views he’d originally prided himself on upholding. In a vacuum, Suguru could not see fault in his inability to care about the monkeys he’d originally sworn to protect. His hatred for the life a sorcerer was expected to live. But with the consequences of acting on whatever idea blossomed out from where he was now, casting a shadow over everything he currently believed the world to be— Suguru felt more trapped than he ever had before.

“I don’t believe you are the same Geto Suguru I’ve only heard about from others. You obviously care about your classmates. I don’t believe you’re a bad person and while I don’t know what will happen or has already happened to cause what the future Geto did, there has to be a way to avoid that future without denying you a chance at something better. I have to believe that people are worth saving—That you’re worth saving.”

Itadori, painfully aware of the damage Suguru’s counterpart had wrought, put his faith in him to not repeat the same mistakes as his predecessor. Itadori believed there was an answer somewhere, a reconciliation of ideals between the growing hatred in Suguru’s heart and the acceptable future he wished to create, even if Itadori himself didn’t understand entirely what he was asking. His trust felt unearned. Unwise. Naïve and childish. But like Satoru, there was something about the way Itadori looked at him with all the hope in the world that urged Suguru to consider his actions more than he had before. If only to prevent the catastrophe that Suguru could only guess took years, if not centuries of planning to bring about to fruition.

“Suguru! You in here, buddy?”

Suguru slowly creaked his head down the aisle, facing to where he could have sworn the echo of Satoru’s voice had originated from. He was in no mood to speak to him now, but hoisting himself up and hiding out of sight was a waste of energy given that his friend had already tracked him down all the way here. Furthermore, while Suguru’s immediate reaction was to shut the book and toss it out of sight, his body’s desire to follow through with that impulsive thought was next to none. 

“Hello? Suguru, where are you?”

Satoru’s voice had definitely grown closer. 

Left stuck on the floor, Suguru took in a deep breath before calling out to the one disrupting the ever-present silence of this place.

“Over here.” 

His answer was followed by a loud thump and a rush of footsteps, all culminating in Satoru popping his head around the shelves on the other end of the aisle, satisfied he’d found who he was looking for.

“Found you!”

“Keep your voice down.” Suguru hissed, turning away from Satoru as quickly as his friend appeared. It was difficult to look at him. The atmosphere around Satoru was as energetic and perky as before, but it lacked any depth beyond the surface. 

As if Satoru knew something was amiss.

“Why? There is no one else here! I’m pretty sure you can hear an echo if I shout loud enough.”

“Please don’t. I already have a headache.” There was something wittier to be said in return. It was right on the tip of Suguru’s tongue, but he held no inclination to follow through with it. He was too exhausted to do so.

“Fine. Just for you, I won’t have any fun.” Satoru plopped himself down next to Suguru, forgoing the need to question why he was on the floor to poke around the books scattered around them. “So, are you studying for an exam I forgot about or what?”

“There’s no exam.”

“Ah. Good. That’s good, because if I come close to failing one more exam, I’m pretty sure Yaga is going to hold me back a year out of spite—” 

Then it happened. Satoru’s eyes fell on the book resting on Suguru’s lap. The immediate loss of his smile must have meant Satoru read enough from a glance to know what it was about.

“Why are you wasting your time with that?” Satoru yanked the book for himself and flipped through the pages with no care for its age or fragility. 

“Wasting my time? You of all people need to know how this Prison Realm functions! How to counter it! While it may be lost now, it won’t be lost forever because that fake wants to seal you within it.”

“Yeah, of course, I want to know about all—” Satoru waved over the open pages he was balancing in his other hand. “— This. But why now? We have eleven years before any of this becomes relevant!” He then shut the book and tossed it out of either of their reach, treating the act as if he’d made some grander point that could not be refuted. 

If they were going to use Itadori’s timeline of events as something to abide by without considering the repercussions of the time traveler’s presence, Satoru was still wrong about the time they had to prepare.

He had eleven years to sort this out.

Suguru had ten.

And when they consider the changes being made with each new action taken, that number could easily stretch or condense depending on their enemy’s response. Fake Kamo, by Itadori’s description, had planned this Culling Game of his long enough for Suguru to identify a tactician when he heard one. There is no telling how much their enemy was aware of the ongoings of the Jujutsu world. If Itadori or Choso’s presence were to become known and rumors were to spread, then Fake Kamo would most certainly investigate his children’s interference and adapt to the changes they were making.

Pretending they had all the time in the world would do no one any favors.

“Today is a day off we didn’t have before. Let’s just sit back and enjoy it. If you want to read, fine, but at least pick up a manga or something instead.”

“Satoru, I can’t. That’s no excuse. You said you would prepare. That you were going to change the future.” So why are you still pretending everything’s ok?

“But not everything has to be done today! And before you counter with the stuff with Ijichi, I had asked him to look into some things before I knew we were going to have this wonderful day off in the first place! What’s gotten under your skin? I thought you were doing better since you seem to have lighted up with Yuji.”

“If not today, then when?” Suguru straightened his back, glaring as he forced Satoru to answer him. “You’re so hellbent on claiming you’re going to look out for everyone here but the moment I decide to do anything, you step in order for me to stop? Is this what I get for caring about what happens to you?”

“That’s not it! I just wanted everyone to have a few good hours without all the melodrama. Is that so wrong?” Now defensive, their eyes parted from each other as Satoru made sure his glasses remained firmly in place as he continued on, “And it’s not that I’m doing nothing at all! Again, I wasn’t going out of my way to look for it, but I figured out whose body Fake Kamo is hijacking in the future. So if you really want to keep talking about it—”

Suguru doesn’t.

“—The body Fake Kamo's using is—”

He doesn’t want to hear Satoru say it.

“Satoru, it’s—”

But Suguru wasn’t fast enough to stop him.

“—Haibara’s”

“—Mine.”

“What!?” Both teenagers shouted in unison, neither ready to accept the words coming out of their respective mouths.

“Haibara?” Aghast, Suguru whispered the name regardless, questioning where such an idea could even stem from. “Haibara? How could you even assume—!?”

“He wasn’t in any of Yuji’s photos!” Satoru shouted, his voice breaking at the sudden shock tampering with his nervous system. He was shaking, too much energy at once poured in, forcing his friend to his feet to pace back and forth as he explained his reasoning as coherently as possible. “And I watched the two introduce themselves to each other this morning, Yuji didn’t have a single clue who he was! And last night, when he was telling us about the future, Yuji also said he’d never met the body Fake Kamo was using before! It had to be someone close to us or else…”

The small study table situated nearby scraped against the floor as Satoru grasped the side of it to hold himself steady. 

“You’re telling me you think—Yours? Really? How the fuck does that make any sense!? That’d mean you have to be—”

Dead.

“No.” Satoru shook his head. He’d do it again and again. So much so, that he must have worsened his balance further on account of his teetering feet. “No. That’s not possible. There’s no way.”

“Satoru.”

“ You aren’t dead.”

“Satoru, look at me.” 

Suguru’s request was met with a harsh strike to the table in the wake of Satoru’s frustration. The Infinity enveloped his strike with more energy than Satoru must have intended, leaving the mass of splintered wood to remain nothing more than a pile of wood chips below the fist still hovering in the air. It remained in place as Satoru finally looked at Suguru with every emotion poorly flushed from his face.

“Itadori told me himself. You saw his photos. You know that I’m—”

“I know what I saw.” Satoru cut him off, his arms dropping to his sides. “I was hoping that you were… That what I saw wasn’t—couldn’t be… Fuck!”

The chair that had escaped the table’s destruction now stood on its own, subjected to Satoru’s forceful hand as he pulled it close and sat down. Like Suguru before him, he’d gone silent for a moment as his mind worked to accept what he was being told, hitting his forehead against his fist until the futility of it all was painfully understood.

“How…?” 

The word, while expected, hurt all the same to hear. 

What came next, Suguru had assumed would be questions. An endless series of details and nitpicking that matched Satoru’s consistent curiosity about the dangerous unknown the future held. A conversation Suguru was not ready to have. One that had to be said.

But no.

Satoru lowered his head, rubbing away at his eyes while his hair fell over to cover them where his glasses could not. He returned the shades only when he found the resolve to lift himself up, but his attention remained on the destruction which lay at his feet.

“Whatever. It doesn’t matter.”

It doesn’t… matter?

“What do you mean it doesn’t matter!?”  

It was Suguru’s turn to lash out, his frustration reaching a level beyond his control. Whatever energy he’d thought was lost flooded back into his limbs, propelling Suguru forward as he stood up, on the verge of grabbing Satoru and forcing him to look him in the eye. 

“How I die doesn’t matter? Do you even know what you’re saying? What you’re avoiding? The reason why I… What I did after I left—”

“You’re going to leave?” 

Satoru’s shades slipped just enough forward, forcing his hand to shove them back a second too late, leaving the image of his puffy red eyes glossed with the remnants of tears he’d deny, in utter shock of the revelation. This very image lasted longer in Suguru’s thoughts than it had in front of him, as once again, Satoru stubbornly refused to humor the idea with anything more than a growl behind his teeth.

“You’re not leaving.”

“It’s not that simple—”

“You’re not dying.”

“Satoru—!”

“I won’t let you!”  

He wouldn’t hear it. Satoru dug his feet in the ground, a caricature of confidence on full display as pointed a finger in the air and proclaimed his desperation. 

“ Please, Suguru, it’s all going to be ok. It’ll be fine! Whatever happens, we’ll make it work! Changing the future here, right? That’s what this is all about! No one will ever— I swear won’t let you die.”

In the most twisted sense, it was amusing for Suguru to hear Satoru say those words. Comical really, given the events Itadori spoke of. The roles the two played. Had future Satoru been this averse to the thought of his Suguru’s death as well? Had future Suguru forced an unwilling hand?

When had Satoru’s heart clung to the lives of others so tightly?

Where had the snarky, abrasive, and uncaring teenager gone?

A year had passed by all too fast, and it only took these past two days for Suguru to understand just how much Satoru had changed in his absence. He’d been all too eager to take on each mission passed to him, keeping him moving from one location to the next with very little spare time to spare in between. And now he was showing greater interest in the wellbeing of his classmates, shouldering the responsibility of their fates with little question of whether he should.

What hadn’t changed was Satoru’s ego, and his false assumption that he could fulfill every new role bestowed upon himself.

“You’re adding my name to the list, is that it? You’ll keep an eye out on myself, Nanami, and whoever else you deem necessary on top of all your work as a sorcerer? Clan head? A future instructor to this school? You’re going to stretch yourself too far, you'll snap.”

“Have a little faith! I can handle it!”

Satoru’s insistence only served to bolster Suguru’s anger.

“With all those missions you take, you’ve scarcely stepped foot on the school’s grounds this year! Rarely do we see each other! Speak to one another! This is the most we’ve talked in months!” 

“Ok, yeah, that’s completely fair, I should call more often—but once I figure out this teleportation thing I can be anywhere I want in an instant! Goodbye long hours on the road, hello Suguru!”

Will things truly change? Satoru continued to leave them behind—to leave him behind. But why? Why leave at all? When did he care so much about fulfilling his missions? Can he not see that if not by their own hands, it will be the never-ending barrage of cursed spirits that eventually do them in?

“That doesn’t change your workload—”

“What do you want me to do, Suguru?” Satoru stepped back, pulling at his hair as he swatted at the dust still hovering in the air from their disturbance. “Most of my missions involved cursed spirits no one else can go up against! I have both the Limitless technique and the Six Eyes! I’m not supposed to have limitations and once I get over this next hurdle, I can do everything I say that I can. Don’t you always drone on about how it was the strong who were supposed to protect the weak? I finally get it now, and here you are looking at me like I’ve grown a second head!”

To throw his own words back at after everything they’ve been through! 

“You’re so confident that you can fix everything, yet you can barely comprehend how much space now sits between us!” At the top of his voice, Suguru forced the disparity separating them into the forefront, refusing to allow Satoru to ignore it any further. 

Even Satoru’s own words betrayed his denial, proving that even he has begun to acknowledge the divide in power as his control over infinity has developed into unparalleled precision. They were both special grade sorcerers, but even among special grades, there was a hierarchy in which Satoru placed himself at the top. 

It was that notion that caused Suguru’s patience to snap. His feet moved before he even thought about leaving, walking away from Satoru and this utter mess they’d created but to no avail. A hand stopped him, holding his own in a vice grip, initiating contact in defiance of Suguru’s words.

“D-Don’t go. Not now—” Satoru stuttered, tightening his grip further. “Please.”

“I’m not—” Suguru let out a sigh, taking most of his external rage with it. “I’m not running off forever. I just need… I need a moment to myself right now. A break.”

“Five minutes.”

An arbitrary number. One Suguru doubted Satoru would even follow, but that wasn’t the point of speaking it aloud.

“Five minutes.” 

The echo was a good enough sign for Satoru to release him. 

There was nothing else to say as Suguru left, his steps picking up a faster pace the closer he climbed his way up to the exit. His own body remained tense, as if expecting another obstacle, whatever that may be, to attempt to block his path. 

When he made it outside, Suguru raised a hand to block out the sun straining his eyes. The outside air should have been refreshing, but all it did was sting his lungs and soil the moment of peace he was looking for.

Beyond the front steps, Suguru had no place in mind when he stormed out of Satoru’s sight. There was no good reason to search out the rest of his classmates, and while the thought of returning to his dorm had begun to sound appealing, the chances of others stumbling in the hall outside were enough to dissuade him.

Did Satoru expect him to return to the library when his time was up? Or was Suguru going to be tracked down?  

He supposed Satoru would be stubborn enough to track him down no matter what he did, leading Suguru to pick a direction at random and begin putting distance between himself and the library before Satoru came shuffling out behind him. 

Today was all too much. 

And still far from over, Suguru wasn’t all too shocked that his time alone had been interrupted just as quickly as it started. 

“There you are!”

Somewhere between the dorms and the track, Suguru came to a stop underneath what little shade the trees could offer under the midday sun, responding to being called out from some distance ahead of him. By the time he’d lifted his head and registered the voice responsible, whatever time he had to collect himself had vanished when he was greeted by Shoko, now slowing to a safe stop in front of him.

“Sensei’s been looking for you and the other idiot. Mostly the other idiot, since he’s the one responsible for today’s little outing… Are you doing ok?” 

“I’m fine. You said sensei was looking for us?”

Ever the perceptive one, Shoko grabbed her chin and hummed as she scrutinized the poorest lie Suguru has given yet. 

“You’re making that face again.”

“What face?”

“The constipated one. You should really see a doctor. Oh wait, I’m right here.” Shoko snickered at her attempt at humor, the noise quick to fade when she didn’t get whatever reaction she was hoping for. “Well, as close as you’re going to get. Come on, tell me what’s got you all messed up.”

“Shoko, I don’t want to talk about it. In fact, I came out here specifically for the purpose of not having to talk about it.” Suguru hadn’t intended to sound as harsh as he had, but his response was accepted with open arms as any other.

“Alright, then I’ll answer my own question and talk for the both of us. You and Gojo got into a fight.”

“You tell just by that?”

“Three years of you two being at each other’s throats tend to provide enough signals to pick up on when the words get out of hand.” Was it really that easy? Seeing as how Suguru hadn’t objected to her guesswork just yet, Shoko continued to look Suguru over with a couple of nods as if she was checking a mental checklist. “You were arguing about the future, weren’t you? Or maybe just the time travel stuff from yesterday? Did Yuji say something while you two were gone?”

Suguru shifted his eyes. 

Shoko squinted hers.

“He did. More bad news.”

She would not let this go. If not from Suguru, Shoko could easily turn to Satoru for more direct answers and their classmate was demanding enough to receive them. Again, the thought of anyone else speaking the words before he could prompted Suguru’s lips to twitch, spouting out the answer before Shoko would inevitably conclude it herself. One would think the act would remove the weight off his chest, but Suguru found no such relief when relaying the somber news.

“I’m dead in Itadori’s future.”

“For real?” Shoko let out a half-hearted laugh in anticipation for Suguru to take back what he had said. When no such move was made, she covered her mouth in shame. “Oh shit. You aren’t joking.”

“No. I’m not.”

“Well, that sucks. I kinda liked you.”

“This is serious—” Suguru stopped, withholding the rest of his scolding when the rest of Shoko’s cheery mood fell apart, leaving an empty smile forcefully holding back any further reaction she may have. 

“I know.”

They both lingered in the middle of the pathway in silence. When neither had said anything after a solid minute had passed, Shoko reached into her pocket for her cigarettes, scrunching the box between her fingers as she pulled out a stick for herself before extending the box to Suguru to take one for himself. 

When it came time to light them, Shoko struggled with the lighter, silently cursing the tiny thing as the spark would not produce a usable flame. Offering to assist would have most likely made her frustration grow worse, thus Suguru kept silent until she shoved the lighter in his hands or got it to work on her own. After a series of repetitive clicks and groans, the latter temporarily won out. But once Shoko had gotten her cigarette successfully lit, the flame blew out again, causing her to chuck the faulty contraption at the bin a couple of meters away from where they stood, missing her target by a wide margin.

He had no intention of taking more than a puff of the cigarette he’d been given. The taste and smell were equally abhorrent, so the loss of the lighter wasn’t one for him to get broken up over. Knowing Shoko would make use of it later, Suguru slipped the cigarette into his pocket with his hand alongside it.

Shoko trudged over the garbage bin to clean up the cracked lighter off the ground.

“You did something stupid, didn’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you going to do it again?”

“After hearing what came of it… I don’t know.”

Obviously, Suguru did not want to meet the same end as his future counterpart. Nor did he wish to force Satoru’s hand, for that act to then haunt his friend in the shape of his defeat. But Suguru knew he couldn’t go as he currently was either.

Was it all a futile effort? What meaning would his actions hold if it all fell apart the moment a greater threat appeared over the encroaching horizon? If something so extreme as what his counterpart had done still hadn’t invoked any level of change, what did that say for his chances of accomplishing anything different?

Was there another way he just wasn’t seeing?

“You don’t know?”

“I don’t know what the catalyst is. The point of no return. At what point do our actions become so foreign that the future Itadori spoke of can’t possibly occur and all the warnings become irrelevant? Or is there a determined path that will inevitably bring about the outcomes we try desperately to avoid? I don’t want the future’s tragedy, but I don’t know how much longer I can last as I am now.”

“What does that mean?” Just as the series of questions never stopped coming to Suguru’s mind, Shoko’s were far from relenting.

“There is something fundamentally wrong with being a sorcerer. I can’t stand the countless missions thrust our way. Overworked and stressed doesn’t even begin to explain how I feel, and as simple as it would be to walk away, leaving the rest of you behind to continue this cycle—Risking your lives, for whom? Those who don’t know we exist? The elders who don’t appear to do anything but deliberate on matters they apparently know little about— I absolutely detest it.”

He didn’t hide the visceral reaction that came forth. His inability to look Shoko in the eye as he laid his heart out for the first time, almost expecting it to be run over with whatever reason would spring forth to object to his complete rejection of the very nature of their existence. The one defined by them by their predecessors. A truth that one would never dare to question.

“You really think you are alone when you say that, don’t you?” A sharp pain hit Suguru’s shoulder as Shoko flicked him with her finger. “Like none of us wouldn’t want this shit to end? What I would give to not have another person stumble in with blood all over—”

“Is that how you really feel, Suguru?”

Shoko went quiet. The pair turned in unison to the third member of their trio, standing in the center of the path for who knows how long, impatience driving Satoru to seek Suguru out before their break had concluded. 

There was only one answer Suguru could give.

“It is.”

Satoru pursed his lips, casting a glance up to the sky before returning to the ground on which they stood. 

“If things change, would you stay?” 

Stay where? The school? Or just by Satoru’s side? Did the distinction matter?

“If there is change, then there is no reason for me to seek it elsewhere.”

“See, this is what I mean by everything being so easy.” Satoru dashed forward to grab Suguru by the shoulders, grinning ear to ear as he supplanted himself in Suguru’s personal space. “Do know who you are talking to? The Gojo Satoru, head of the Gojo clan, and on track to shaping the minds of the next generation. Together we can drive out the old bastards up top and establish something better! Out with the old, in with the new, and sure, it’ll take some time, but it’s not impossible. No wonder future me became a teacher! The geniuses that we are figured we could infiltrate the ranks of the higher-ups and clan politics with those already set to replace them. The elders won’t see it coming until it’s too late.”

“Is it that easy?”

“Yes! Sure, it’ll take some time, but it’s not like we can just kill them all and start fresh that way. As satisfying as that would be, we’d just be causing more problems than solving them.”

Satoru could. 

With little more than a thought and anyone he wished would be no more.

But Satoru won’t.  

He was too rooted in this society. As much as his disrespect for his elders and their rules was always put on display, he still acted within the framework he was raised within. Molded within. To coincide with that, Satoru may have already concluded that the destruction of the Jujutsu world hierarchy would bring its own form of anarchy. One Suguru could picture, but couldn’t determine it to be any worse than the culling game Itadori described. A more immediate catalyst of change than what Satoru was suggesting. And that didn’t even begin to address the issue of cursed spirits themselves.

Perhaps it was Suguru who was impatient.

“Ok. If you say it will happen, then it must. You’re Gojo Satoru, after all—” Suguru’s breath was taken from him as Satoru fell forward and wrapped his arms around Suguru’s to hold him as tight as could be.

“I’ll make it work— We’ll make it work.”

“I hope you’re including me in that statement.” Shoko waved her hand, prompting the two to separate. “You’ll also need to buy my silence, so I don’t turn around and blab about your insidious coup to the higher-ups. I’m thinking... an expensive wine subscription.”

“You won’t say anything, you like us too much.” Satoru laughed, “But I’ll keep that in mind for Christmas.” 

“Unfortunately, I’m stuck with you dorks.” Shoko pretended to pout, but could not keep the expression going for long. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Me neither.” Suguru’s soft admittance was enough to put his prior doubt at ease. Not entirely, but enough that made it easier to endure than it had been for quite some time.

“Then it’s settled.” With a nod, Satoru laid out what their next move should be. “We can strategize the long-term properly later. But right now, while we have our time-traveling friends, we can focus on what other changes we already know gotta happen.”

As much as pushing off rubbed Suguru the wrong way, he could concede on establishing a middle ground to work with. There were already a few warnings that needed to be addressed, with the newest one flashing in the forefront of his thoughts from before Satoru and he had lost themselves in each other’s emotions.

The air shifted, the recovering mood plummeting back to where they started as Suguru brought himself various layers of the grim reality Itadori came from.

“Satoru, what you said before, about Haibara—”

“Yeah. I don’t have explicit proof, but Yuji didn’t recognize him in the slightest when they met this morning. And being so close to Nanami, you’d think he’d at least heard his name mentioned at least once.”

“Some people tend to avoid talking about the dead.”

“The dead?” Shoko tilted her head, horrified at the news. “Haibara is— Geto isn’t the only one?”

“Itadori said… Nanami left Jujutsu Tech as well. I don’t know the exact timeline of events, but he eventually returned and became a mentor to him.” Whereas future Suguru did not. “I would assume it happened before that.”

Satoru crossed his arms.

“We should warn Haibara then, right?”

“Warn him of what? That he dies, probably? If Itadori doesn’t know, then how much of a warning can we give?”

“It’s better than doing nothing.” It wasn’t meant to be accusatory, but Suguru grimaced regardless of what Satoru’s response implied.

“I’m not trying to say we shouldn’t. I’m the last person who’d want anything to happen to him, but we have to plan this out properly. What do we even say that doesn’t sound sarcastic or crazy without revealing how we came to our conclusion?”

“Then we tell him about the whole time travel thing. Haibara won’t say anything, he’s too good to talk behind his senpai’s backs if we ask him.”

Suguru let out a sigh. With Satoru’s prior antics, he was surprised the rest of their underclassmen hadn't figured there was something more going on with their ‘new arrivals.’ 

“Should we warn Nanami as well? With how much we are looking to change, the circumstances might not even come to be.”

“About Haibara?”

It was Suguru who turned to answer Shoko’s question.

“About himself—” Without warning, Shoko grabbed hold of Suguru and Satoru both. Digging her nails into their sleeves, she tugged them both closer until her forehead head hit the side of Suguru’s arm. Most of her weight had fallen on him, relying on him to keep Shoko on her feet. “Shoko, what’s wrong?”

“I’m learning that in the future, my kohais are dead, and that my two idiot classmates are either dead or shoved in a box…” Sniffling, Shoko moved her head so that the rest of her muttered words were no longer muffled by Suguru’s jacket. “Future Shoko must hate it. Being alive and alone.”

“Your future self isn’t completely alone.” Satoru leaned down to look at Shoko directly, attempting to offer some kind of respite from her conclusion. “Ijichi seems to be alive and well.” 

“Satoru, you aren’t helping.”

Contrary to what Suguru said, his friend’s words appeared to work, as a tiny smile broke through what little they could see of Shoko’s face. 

“Always reliable Ijichi.” She squeezed their wrists tighter before letting go, wiping the rest of her face with her sleeve before shooting an apologetic look Suguru’s way for leaving small splotches of her tears on his jacket when there was nothing for her to apologize for. She looked to have something more to say, but couldn’t bring herself to follow through, opting to bite her lip and accept where she was at. 

“It’s all gonna work out,” Satoru repeated the same mantra he’d been clinging to. “No one is going to shove me in a box. Suguru is here safe and sound. And once the rest will fall into place once we talk to Haibara and figure out what to say to Nanami. And I’m sure Yuji can help with that.”

“After you survive Yaga-sensei.” Shoko jerked forward, letting them go as she pointed across campus. “Crap! You two need to get to the guest house right now! He was already angry enough when he found Haibara and Nanami hanging around.”

“Oh boy. Does he not know how to have a little fun?”

“His frustration with you has nothing to do with fun.” Suguru deadpanned. “You just had to bring Itadori and his cursed spirit into the city.”

“You did too.”

“I believe I was going to be dragged along with or without my consent. A fact I’ll make blatantly clear when we get back.” To bring himself to smirk at Satoru’s puffed-up face, it was as if for a moment, they were back to the way things used to be. Loud and belligerent, playfully poking at each other with Shoko on the verge of leaving them both to butt heads until they wore themselves out.

It never escalated to that point, with both shifting their focus to following Yaga’s order rather than continuing their nonsensical spat. The walk back was short, with neither needing to drag their feet, especially when Satoru shouldn’t have left the time-traveling pair out of his sight to begin with. But during this small window of time, their conversation had reached a lull, and Suguru was able to reflect on the pieces that remained absent and the conflicting feelings that remain unreconciled in his heart.

Suguru wished to tell himself that those would fade with time. That he had to give this plan a chance, that their future would be better off when taking everything that had happened and what may happen into consideration. Knowing that he had the chance to save the few people close to him, that Satoru was willing to do what he could to bring about some version of change in the system they operated in—that should be fulfilling enough on its own. 

It had to be.

Maybe it was too early, too sudden, for Suguru to experience the doubt to disappear? For his breaths to come without fear or dissatisfaction? 

With those explanations in mind, Suguru continued to walk, holding out the hope that in time, he’d find the solace he was looking for. As with a lot of things, only time would tell if their decisions would pay off in the end.

Chapter Text

“Where the hell is Suguru?”

Choso craned his neck back, ultimately stopping in his tracks alongside the rest of their group to observe Satoru spin around in place in search of his friend who had long since veered off in his own direction. He was a bit surprised the teenager hadn’t noticed Suguru’s absence sooner, but given the conversation in the air, even the world’s strongest sorcerer could fall to distraction.

“We didn’t leave Geto-senpai behind in Hachioji, did we?” Yu poked his head out from behind Kento’s shoulder, already answering his own with a second more of thought. “No, he was on the bus with us!”

“He came back with us and then escaped while he had the chance.” Kento muttered, glancing an accusatory eye back at Yu for his own predicament. “Geto-senpai most likely wants some time to himself. You’ve had him for most of the day, let him be.”

“I’d let him be if he’d said something before disappearing. Not even a ‘See you later?’ Really?” The irritation stemming from Satoru was hard to miss. With the way his feet stuttered in place and his eyes continued to look around, it was only a matter of time before Satoru stormed off in search of his missing friend.

In total, the group took four steps before Choso’s prediction rang true.

“I’m gonna… go find him. The rest of you can get things set up without me. I’ll be right back.” After already turning around, Satoru pointed a finger behind him at the remaining third-year in their group. “Shoko’s in charge!”

While Shoko was more than happy to brandish a smug look of authority to the rest of the group in response to Satoru’s declaration, Choso’s attention favored his brother, who looked one nudge away from sprinting to catch up with the teenager still in their sights. His concern wasn’t unfounded. But without much of an excuse to break away on his part and an understanding that Suguru must be in need of his own space as Yuji had earlier that morning, both brothers silently concluded it was best to let the two classmates work through their troubles on their own first. Considering the level of cursed energy coursing between those two, they would learn rather quickly if any discussion between them elevated to a level that required outside intervention.

Still, that did not stop Yuji from staring off at the last place Satoru had been seen before dashing out of sight. 

“They both are complicated people. Some time alone to work through those complications may do them some good.” Choso assured Yuji, working to swat away the doubt attempting to worm its way into his brother’s heart. His next few words were spoken at a much lower volume to avoid reaching the ears of the second-years. “Let’s respect their privacy for now. Satoru will inform us of anything that we should be caught up on.”

Yuji nodded, repeating the same mantra he’d used when dismissing Sukuna’s unsolicited input.

“You’re right. Positive thinking.”

“Alright people,” Shoko shouted over their heads, bringing their focus to the task at hand. “I’m in charge and I say we keep moving. Just a bit further before we hit the guest house and my arms are killing me.”

To make her point, she slumped forward as to suggest her bags of clothes and snacks had suddenly become cinder blocks, gaining the concern of her lower classman as Yu was quick to apologize and help usher the rest of the party to their destination. He was also the first to enter the guest house upon their arrival, eager to push the front door aside for those after him and sate his curiosity by looking around as much as he could before getting pushed in the direction of the common room which held their groceries and other supplies would be stored in. 

“I was expecting something fancier,” Yu admitted, setting his personal bag on the table. “But it’s not that different from our dorms, except with this room attached and that bathroom down the hall. And it’s all kind of small.”

“No wonder the graduate sorcerers don’t stay here. The last thing they probably want is a reminder of their school days.” Kento followed in after Yu. “I’d rather stay at a hotel. Especially if I could bill the school for it. Professional room service is worth the distance… You’re slated to move into a private residence on campus once you graduate, aren’t you Ieiri-senpai?”

“Sure am. Not that it’ll be any different from living here now. Iori-senpai and Mei-senpai have already graduated, so I have the girls’ dorm all to myself.” Shoko’s tone and expression came across as if it was something to boast about, but there was something concealed just below the surface that had Choso sympathizing with her solitude. 

“I like the dorms.” Eyes fell to his brother’s comment, spoken all too casually without realizing the audience in the room. A cough came out as Yuji worked to clear his throat, immediately correcting his statement. “I mean, I like the idea of being in a dorm. With people. Having neighbors next door must be fun.”

“I totally agree! Before everyone got swamped with missions, the dorms were pretty lively.” Yu walked backward toward the kitchen counter, his eyes unable to settle on his own desire to poke around the room or keep up with the current conversation. “You know, Ieiri-senpai, if you’re lonely… you could move into the boys’ dorm—”

“Not on your life.” Shoko snorted. “I don’t even want to know what goes on in that dorm of yours. I already imagine the constant bickering in the middle of the night between a certain pair I know… My chances of getting any sleep would drop to zero.”

“You’re not wrong. But it’s been a lot quieter since Gojo-senpai started staying off campus to take up more missions.” Shifting the focus of their conversation, Yu voiced his assessment of their communal living space. “Good news, you have a fridge so not everything we bought will go bad if left here. The rest will have to be stored away in the cupboards since you do not have the counter space to waste since the sink takes up a good portion of it. No larger appliances but there is an outlet, so let’s hope there are a few countertop ones stored underneath…”

Before Yu could fully bend down to check, a thought struck his mind.

“Gojo-senpai wanted to watch a movie, but he didn’t say which room we’d group up in. Do you have a television in your room, Yuji-kun?”

“No. I’m pretty sure we don’t.”

“Well, there certainly isn’t one in here. Maybe one of the other guest rooms has a television we could swipe.” Yu dashed across the room, grabbing Yuji’s hand in the process to drag his brother along on his search. 

“Haibara-senpai—!?”

“Let’s go have ourselves a look around!”

Well aware of how easy it would be for Yuji to free himself from Yu’s hold, there was little reason for his brother’s ability to resist the older teenager’s antics unless Yu possessed a hidden strength unknown to him. A conclusion Choso doubted to be true, choosing instead to place his understanding of Yuji’s compliance as his own willingness to play along. The startled smile that remained on his brother’s face as they disappeared down the hall only further supported this.

The gray cloud that had cast over his brother’s head may not have been disputed completely, but it was nice to see that there was some relief to be found from it. Yuji was still young. Despite this, his experiences forced his soul to age faster than it should have, and it was a sad truth that these few moments he has to embrace his youth will continue to dwindle as time goes on. 

Choso was grateful for their displacement in time to grant them the ability to alter and prevent their ruined future, but for it to also grant his brother time to rest and live that way he should have been able to… He was more content than he had any right to be.

“I’m going to make sure they don’t break something.” Shoko sighed before running after them, disappearing down the hall along with her voice, fading with distance and leaving whatever she started shouting about to be anyone’s guess. 

With only Kento and he left, Choso took it upon himself to begin unpacking the few bags of groceries they had brought back with them from Hachioji before any of the more perishable items went bad, and their trip was rendered pointless. 

Yu had been heavily relied on when discussing what should be bought for their temporary residence. Choso’s possessed his own cursory knowledge of food, able to distinguish between prepared meals, produce, and what looked to be too processed to be considered healthy for human consumption. But that was where his knowledge came to an end, as even the body he now claimed as his own lacked the skills needed for anything beyond basic meal preparation. Any meal that required the use of the various appliances and culinary techniques developed over the last century was lost to him, which is where his younger brother excelled in comparison. As unfortunate as it was for the elder of the two to be unable to provide for the younger in this capacity, Yuji was more than happy to talk about sharing his skill with him as he did with his classmate. An activity Choso would greatly look forward to. 

After unpacking the bags, discerning where each item should be stored within the kitchen wasn’t the challenge Choso feared it would be. The locations the food was stored in for purchase corresponded with their place in the kitchen, as even the refrigerator had a section for frozen goods that required a lower temperature to be stored at.

Next to him, Choso observed Kento move to silently offer his assistance, opening the cupboards and drawers in search of what space they had available. He wasn’t one to make small talk as the one always hovering by his side. Nor was he particularly fond of Choso’s presence, favoring his little brother in conversation if the topic of conversation was directed their way. His distaste was subtle and easy to push aside when, like Suguru, he could at least act cordial if required of him.

The sound of another drawer opening and shutting beside him fell into the background as the refrigerator’s hum filled his ears upon leaning down to place a few things on the middle row. With no way to predict how long their stay would be and Satoru’s wealth at their disposal, preparation for several days to a week had been preferred over humoring anything shorter. Even if the itch to get back to their time, to their reality that contrasted so heavily from this dream the past embodied, was still present just under the skin.

With how their situation currently stood, it was far too complicated for Choso to believe that their way home would be effortless or without some unknown variable left to contend with—

All the blood in Choso’s body came to a halt, forcing his movements down from the faintest twitch to an unnatural still. 

Something thin and sharp had been pressed into the surface of his back. Deep enough to be felt. Shallow enough to avoid tearing through his clothes. A warning to proceed and comply or else the threat would be realized.

One glance to his right revealed the drawer holding the cutlery was left open with no one to stand by and close it shut. It took little speculation to determine the one holding the missing chef’s knife at his back, and the whisper of warning that came next all but confirmed the name repeating itself in Choso’s head.

“My cursed technique draws a line along my target. Using a ratio of seven to three, it creates a weak point at that location to deal considerable damage.”

If it were Satoru standing behind him, Choso may have believed he was experiencing a prank in poor taste. A joke, something he learned to deal with well enough from Mahito’s odd behavior. 

But, this was not Satoru.

Kento was the one holding the knife. To then divulge his cursed technique and initiate a flare of cursed energy output underneath his grip, his intent to do harm if necessary was clear. Choso was then left to wonder if he had allowed his senses to grow dull and complacent. The past him and his brother had traveled to may hold the illusion of being a sanctuary, but they were still amongst sorcerers. Adversaries to curses, Choso should have remained alert even after Satoru’s and his closest few found his presence tolerable.

Clearly, that sentiment had not spread to everyone.

Slow and steady, Choso raised both of his hands into view before lifting the rest of his body so that he was no longer halfway in the fridge. Kento allowed this, but would not let him step any further back as the knife remained firmly in place.

“Your technique must be very potent.” Choso responded with words, continuing to do what he could to convince the teenager that he was not one to quickly retaliate unless he was given ample reason to. The fear of physically engaging Kento in a fight was not in his ability to survive it—Choso’s own technique and his body’s superior durability versus a younger sorcerer who had yet fully reached his potential determined the outcome quite easily—but what would happen to him and his brother once their fight reached a conclusion.

“Gojo-senpai doesn’t fear you. That’s to be expected, someone like him doesn’t believe he has a reason to fear anyone. But, Geto-senpai? He’s different. Regardless of his power, he’s wary of you. A cause for concern.” Kento’s knife remained still in his hand. “I know what I sense from you. And after spending enough time with both you and Geto-senpai close enough for comparison, I’m certain Haibara’s guess was wrong.”

An acute awareness of cursed energy was expected of an eventual grade one sorcerer.

“You’re a curse.”

There wasn’t doubt in Kento’s claim. There was no reason for it. He’d already provided his evidence and acted accordingly. Whatever response Choso gave now, there was no swaying Kento from the truth. Or else he wouldn’t have taken to the knife as quickly as he had.

Choso turned his head, slow and steady, just far enough for the edge of his eye to make contact.

“I am.”

It was not in Kento’s stance, but in his eyes, that Choso witnessed a hint of surprise. A subtle expansion of the eyelids, as if for a moment, the teenager wasn’t expecting the curse in front of him to be so agreeable upon confirmation. The unexpected shook him, but not enough to sway in the slightest. Sharpening his gaze, the interrogation continued while the echo of footsteps remained far down the hall.

“You’re a curse, but you can interact with non-sorcerers. The civilians we passed acknowledged your presence by moving around you and speaking to you at check out. Our current understanding of cursed spirits, the very same understanding of cursed spirits that have been passed down for centuries does not fit what I just described.”

“It doesn’t.”

“You’re an exception.”

There was little point in arguing.

“Indeed.”

“Your ‘brother’ is different. Itadori-kun's cursed energy feels off, but not nearly to the same severity as yours.” Kento gestured down the hall with his head, keeping his sights in place. “He knows what you are.”

“He does. If your concern is what my intention is by being here, know that I’m bound to him. As his older brother, it is my duty to see that he remains in good health and his goals are met. Whatever those may be.” As Choso had stated to Yaga, the duty of family is an unspoken vow. One he would uphold without the otherworldly threat to himself if he should break it. The consequences are not that of Choso’s health, but that of Yuji’s, which made his decision to uphold his stance all the stronger. “If you believe I am here to do harm, I can assure you that unless you plan on using that knife on my little brother, I will not act against you or anyone here.”

“A binding vow.”

“We’re family. That’s how families are supposed to be.”

His answer was accepted, albeit with not nearly as much approval as their sensei had given him.

“I’m supposed to believe you’re a special case then? Is this what Gojo-senpai meant about Itadori’s enrollment being complicated?” Kento whispered more to himself than to the one still on the other end of his blade, seething at the situation they now found themselves in. “Why not come out and say it from the start?” 

“Their intent was discretion, though I believe Satoru doesn’t know how to balance that and his desire to do as he pleases.”

“It’s infuriating.”

“It’s… less than ideal.”

Their agreement was unexpected on Kento’s end, appearing as another flicker of shock before his business-oriented persona returned after the clearing of his throat. A few seconds passed as the teenager assessed his thoughts and a decision was made, ultimately removing the knife from Choso’s back and taking a step to the side, facing the curse so that there was no strain for both parties to face one another as they continued. The weapon remained in his hand, tip facing the ground as he still refused to disarm himself entirely.

“My senpais are… stressful. But they aren’t completely incompetent either. If there was a problem with leaving you and by extension, Itadori-kun, alone with us, one of them would be here. No offense to Ieiri-senpai, but she isn’t suited for combat and risking an important healer— No, a dear friend such as her would be beyond unforgivable.” Kento straightened himself before bowing his head. “I apologize for my behavior.”

“There is no reason to. You’re acting in the best interests of your peers. If our positions were reversed, I’d find myself doing the same.”

The teenager lifted his head, nodding as Choso took the opportunity to close the fridge that had been left open to leak a thin blanket of cold air across their feet.

“You’re oddly human for a curse.” An observation more than anything else. Choso would attribute his humanity to pieces of his being made from it, but that was a truth he couldn’t share quite yet. “Out of respect towards our sensei who must have approved this, I will remain quiet on what you are. I expect a proper explanation in the future. However, despite all this, I will still keep an eye on you. Especially when you’re around Haibara. He’s far too trusting, and if you take advantage of that trust—” Kento’s grip on the knife tightened for a moment, loosening only when the voices of the missing three carried in from down the hall and announced their impending arrival. 

Prepared to act as if nothing occurred for everyone’s sake, Kento returned his weapon to the drawer and slammed it shut, grabbing for the nearest bag to wrap up their previous task while Choso did the same.

Kento cared deeply for his peers. The protective nature on display was easy to identify, and Choso could only imagine what Kento’s future counterpart must have been like during his time mentoring Yuji. According to his brother, he was a good and respectable man. And for that man to be taken from his brother before his very eyes— Mahito’s cruelty was nothing short of vile. 

Allowing the same tragedy to happen a second time would be doing them both a disservice. 

Reflecting on his own willing hand in the destruction carried out in Shibuya, he knew no amount of shame or regret could earn Choso forgiveness for what had transpired. Yuji had acknowledged Choso’s involvement, but made no effort to blame him as a means of exchanging their transgressions against one another. While the other sorcerers were expected to have their own views on the matter, family was supposed to forgive each other. However, something told Choso that his brother’s reasoning for doing so was rooted in his own need to take responsibility, a stance that Choso could not agree with nor find himself convincing Yuji of the contrary anytime soon. His brother was stubborn like that.

Kento was unaware of Choso’s previous actions, but his existence in itself was enough to originally earn his ire. Cursed spirits and sorcerers were of opposing sides, predating on one another as a means of survival. Yet, despite that, he was willing to accept his presence as his upperclassman had. The very same students who knew Choso’s history and made the conclusion he was no longer to be designated an active foe to contend with. And while it may be from ignorance, Yu’s continued kindness was one he couldn’t ignore either.

The truth before him, as exceptional as it may be, was that there were possible circumstances in which he may live as humans do. To be accepted by them, the degree of which may vary. That possibility was not one he’d considered upon waking up at the meddling of Mahito and the one pulling the curse’s strings. His decision to join their side was to protect his siblings, assuming a world of curses would welcome them far better than a world of humans.

Had Choso known of this alternative path, of the younger brother unknowingly waiting to walk down it alongside him, the curse may very well have taken it. Perhaps Eso and Kechizu would still be with him. 

All that could be gained from reflecting on the past was insight. To redirect his brother’s fates in this alternative timeline, action would be required. Decisive action. One that does not jeopardize the life of the one brother still with him now. If Yuji and Satoru could state their optimism so clearly, cling to it, and demand it be so regardless of the obstacles awaiting them, then he should as well.

Turning back to the noise at hand, Choso lifted his head from his thoughts and walked to where the kitchen and the hall converged. Excitement greeted him, Yu leading the back with Yuji and Shoko at his heels with what was about to be good news about the prospects of their movie plans by the looks of it.

“It’s a little small, but it turns out the last room has this old, clunky thing we could use—” 

Yu’s eager shouting was brought to a staggering halt, as was his momentum, at the sight of Yaga sticking his head in through the front entrance. Looking to avoid hitting the man entirely as he entered, Yu’s socks slipped on the wooden floorboards as he leaned back, falling into Yuji’s arms, already open to catch him on reflex. 

Their teacher, with still only one foot in the door, took one look at the scene and said nothing. His impassive expression remained, even as Shoko waved in his direction, holding steady as he looked to the opposing end of the hall to see Choso, with Kento now peering over his shoulder to see what had caused the sudden silence.

“Nanami.”

“Good afternoon, Sensei.”

“Haibara.”

“Hello, Sensei!” 

Yuji assisted Yu back onto his feet, sharing in the guilt-ridden smiles for entirely different reasons. 

“Good afternoon, Yaga-sa- sensei.” His brother corrected himself, following the same honorifics as the other students. 

Yaga closed his eyes and took in a lung’s worth of air, his chest rising and falling in its entirety before he brought his other foot inside, revealing a paper bag held firmly in his hand. For witnessing an obvious violation of the cautions he’d given them, the man’s reaction was rather tame in contrast with how they first met. 

“Where is Satoru?”

“Looking for Suguru.” Shoko answered, their teacher’s developing glare relaying a message words did not have to. “I’ll go find them. It shouldn't take too long.”

“I’d appreciate that.” 

The third-year nodded and skittered out the door, running off in search of the missing duo before Yaga’s patience left him completely. Amid the newfound tenseness in the air, Yaga’s attention shifted to Yuji, silently ushering Yu out of the way to look at the younger teenager from top to bottom.

“You appear to be doing better today.”

“I am.”

Content with his brother’s answer, the man lifted the paper bag out in front of Yuji. 

“You’re hoodie. I was able to sew most of the tears shut. Some patchwork was needed, but I matched the color of the fabric, so it shouldn’t be all too noticeable.”

Yuji’s face lit up at the news, grasping the bag tight before pulling it open and diving in to retrieve the hoodie which meant so much to him. Very little time was spent looking it over, the bag falling out of Yuji’s hand as he tore apart the buttons of his jacket and slipped the hoodie over his head and underneath the jacket where it belonged. For the short amount of time Choso could look at Yaga’s handiwork, the man’s skill and care put into the restoration shown through while knowing full well the jacket not resting over it would cover most of the repairs. 

After stretching his arms in every direction to test out his mobility, his brother beamed with satisfaction.

“Thank you so much! Everything feels exactly how it used to be.” Yuji spun around, showing off the now complete outfit with an added whisper “Like nothing ever happened…”

“Wow! Red looks great on you Yuji-kun!” Yu poked at the red fabric around Yuji’s neck. “It didn’t register before, but now I’m sure your uniform wouldn’t be complete without it. Right, Nanami?”

“As long as you don’t get overheated while wearing that many layers—” Kento stifled the rest of his criticism in favor of agreeing with his classmate. “It suits you.”

Amusingly, Choso observed Yuji tuck his face under his collar, hiding the red crawling up from under his hoodie to spread over his cheeks. Before anyone could point it out, Yaga’s eyes flickered between the student sorcerers before commenting on the group entirely.

“I see you all are familiar with each other.” While only a statement, Choso could infer the irritation under his words.

“We met this morning. Gojo-senpai brought Yuji-kun and Choso-san to the dining hall for breakfast.” Now accusatory, Yu pointed his finger at the man in front of him. “You could have told us we were getting a new first-year!”

“He was an unexpected addition.”

“I figured since Gojo-senpai said things are complicated— Not that I’m prying into anything!” Yu cast an apologetic glance back to Yuji. “And we won’t say anything about them until it gets sorted out. Promise!”

“You’ll do proper introductions later, once everything is settled with the elders, won’t you?” Kento added, his previous bid for answers still fresh in Choso’s memory. His request was far from outrageous. Yaga was aware of this, and given the circumstances and how close the two second-years were to their upperclassmen, it was only a matter of time before they were to learn the truth.

“I will.”

Yuji did not object.

“I’m sorry for causing so much trouble. After everything gets figured out, it’ll be easier to explain… I hope you’ll understand.” His brother was about to lower his head, but Yu was quick to stop him.

“No, no, no! It’s fine! Everyone goes through some… heavy stuff. You don’t have to talk about it!” Yu frantically looked around, wishing to change the subject. “We still need to set up that television, if you don’t mind helping me with that—”

“Yo. You’re all still getting along in there, aren’t you?” 

Satoru’s voice came in through the other side of the door before it was casually kicked aside to allow the third-year to walk inside. Shoko was looking over his shoulder, remaining off to the side to give their sensei a better look at both Satoru and Suguru. The latter of whom was only halfway up the guest house steps, completing the trio upon his return. 

Something had changed between them. Choso could feel it, the unspoken shift in their perspective. The burden of learning of what dreadful events the future may still have in store for them. How much of his brother’s words to Suguru had been relayed to the other two remained uncertain, but enough had to have been said for this reaction to hit the three of them so deeply.

Satoru would deny this shift, bouncing on his feet as he walked and carrying himself with a confident air that demanded the world remain how he wished it: relaxed and without cause for concern. Suguru could only mirror this in jest, his mind taxed by the actions of his future counterpart, though for his brother’s benefit, Choso would attempt to believe there was a genuine effort to share in Satoru’s vision. As for Shoko, the way her eyes darted away from the second-years told Choso all he needed about what she now knew.

“Shoko said Yaga was looking for me— Oh! Sensei! Sorry for running off. Suguru just had to get something from the vending machine and of course, he didn’t ask us if we wanted anything. You know they have these cute little Sanrio cans of soda now—”

“Satoru.”  

Satoru’s fabricated tangent continued.

“But then the damn thing stole his money, and it took all my self-control not to break it open to get it back, you should be proud of me!”

“You have enough self-control to avoid damaging school property, but not enough to take unauthorized field trips or to remain within shouting distance of the first-year you’re supposed to be watching over?”

“Field trip? It was a completely necessary supply run.” Satoru stepped forward, wedging himself between Yu and Yuji to rest a hand on the latter’s shoulder. “And look at him, he’s doing just fine—Yuji! Your hoodie’s back! Can’t even tell it was torn…”

“That ‘supply run’ required the second-years?” The third-year’s rambling was put to an end. Yaga continued to raise his voice with his arms now crossed over his chest. 

“Yeah. We needed the extra hands.”

“To bring back all those DVDs?” The man gestured to the stack of cases on the table he could see from the hallway.

“Obviously!” Satoru double-downed on his decision. Every sentence shot between them increased their shared volume further, leaving Choso to grapple with finding an opportunity to drag his brother out from underneath them. If only Satoru could remove his hand… “Entrainment is food for the brain. Enrichment. There’s nothing to do in this place but sit around and stare at the ceiling.”

His answers were only souring his teacher’s mood further. However, instead of continuing their shouting match, Yaga stepped forward and grabbed Satoru by the collar, exchanging something under their breaths that only Yuji may have been able to pick up on before the third-year tore himself from Yaga’s grasp. Pouting, Satoru replaced the expression with something more light-hearted as he sighed and addressed the second-year closest to him. 

“About our movie situation, do we even have a television in this building?”

“Um uh, yeah! We do, down the hall. A bit of an older one.” Yu was a bit surprised by the continuation of that subject, but he answered his senpai regardless. “But there’s no DVD player.”

“Figured. How about you and Nanami go get the DVD player in my dorm? Hell, tear the whole TV out of the wall and bring it here too if you want something of a higher quality. I barely use it nowadays, so it should work just as well as the day I bought it.”

“We can do that, Gojo-senpai!”

A salute followed Yu’s assurance, as did a swift series of glances between the teenagers and eventually their teacher, who did not argue with letting the two run off to fulfill Satoru’s request. Most notably was Kento’s silent gaze as his eyes flickered between Satoru and Yaga, more than aware that the request was nothing short of an excuse to get them out of the room. It wasn’t ideal, but the excuse Satoru made served enough of a purpose for Kento to let it slide.

Before the two second-years could leave the premises completely, Choso overheard the air being forced out of their lungs and took a few steps forward to find the cause: Shoko placing herself directly in their path and wrapping both arms around them in a very tight hug, down to her fingers curling in to keep them in place.

“Ieiri-senpai!” Kento didn’t move, left to stare at the upperclassman in confusion. “What are you doing?”

“I think you’re hurting my neck—” Yu playfully stuttered out, convincing Shoko to release them as her eyes popped open in surprise. Not at Yu’s exaggerated whine, but at her own actions which she did her best to brush off as something not worth thinking about.

“If your neck hurts from just that, then maybe you need another check-up. You better not be hiding anything from me, got it? Down to the tiniest paper cut. Same with you, Nanami.” 

“I’m not–I will let you know if anything happens! Promise.” Rubbing the side of his neck, Yu added “Where did this come from?”

The third-year student pointed her fingers at Satoru and Suguru.

“I don’t need you two becoming like these two losers, ok?” Without further elaboration, Shoko weaved herself between them, spinning around and shoving her palms against their backs to set them back on their task. The whole display lacked any form of subtlety to those who already knew, and to the man who didn’t, Choso suspected he could piece together where the sudden mournful stare had originated from. “Now get out of here. Shoo.”

No one brought up the subject when the two second-years disappeared from view. 

With two fewer people inside, Suguru and Shoko filled in the space the second-years left behind. The group had moved into the kitchen to continue their talks; the hallway acting as a barrier between themselves as the steps outside for when their limited time to speak in private came to an end. With four chairs available, the students were expected to occupy them, leaving Choso to stand off to the side and rest against the countertop while their sensei stood over them.

Satoru appeared the most disinterested, his horrid posture bore the responsibility for that conclusion, yet his eyes were fixated heavily on Yaga, growing impatient as he waited for the man to share whatever news he had with the rest of them.

“I am choosing to overlook your escapade. For now. There’s something far more important that needs your attention.” A lecture dodged, but not to be avoided indefinitely.

“What is it?” Suguru vocalized the question on everyone’s mind. “Has something happened while we were gone?”

“Master Tengen has requested to speak with the Six Eyes. Satoru must appear within the Tombs of the Star Corridor at noon tomorrow and not a minute later. Everyone else has been asked to vacate the entrance to his domain, as this meeting will be a private affair.”

Collectively, the group tensed at Yaga’s words. Tengen’s request had altered their plans considerably, moving their schedule a few days earlier than expected. 

It had almost felt too soon.

From the moment of his incarnation, he had a duty to retrieve the rest of his family. Returning to the prison that held him and his siblings for so long the exact number of years was lost on him was inescapable. Now he was to return for his youngest brother’s sake and speak to the one who had always remained closest to the warehouse, but never to visit nor interact with objects trapped inside. It left Choso to wonder if Tengen was just as much of a prisoner as they had been.

“This is not a coincidence, is it?” Choso raised his hand, catching Yaga’s attention. “On top of that, the request’s wording addresses the fears you had in us stumbling in of our own accord.”

“No. I would not be surprised if Master Tengen has been aware of you and your brother’s appearance from the start. I would also suspect that is why they are permitting three others to join Satoru for their meeting. They did not give any stipulations as to whom, which may very well be for our benefit. If the elders wish to inquire more, they will have to go against Tengen’s wishes to keep this affair private, which are far less likely to be disregarded.”

“And I have to be there? Me, specifically?” Satoru tapped his foot against the ground. “Not that I wasn’t already going to go. I’m surprised they’d even want to talk to me, considering…”

Choso saw his brother look at Satoru with sympathy. He remained silent as Yaga continued to speak.

“I’m sure Master Tengen has long since accepted what transpired last year. What happened wasn’t entirely your fault.”

Satoru grumbled incoherently under his breath, teeth scraping against each other as he turned away from the group, only to shake his head. 

“Yeah. Yeah. Anyway, who’s going with? Yuji and Choso is the obvious answer, so I guess the three of you can fight over the last slot.” The last statement was supposed to be a joke to initiate the argument that was expected to stem from this decision, but none of the three Satoru addressed were eager to jump on the opportunity to join them. 

“I pass.” Shoko was the first to respond. “No offense to Master Tengen, but I’m not exactly psyched to meet some old ancient sorcerer who lives alone under our school. You can catch me up when you come back.”

“I’ll pass as well.” Suguru closed his eyes and fell back in his chair, hands tucked in his pockets, earning the disappointment of his peer. “I have no interest in visiting that place a second time. I’m sorry, but you’ll have to supervise this one, Yaga-sensei.” The teenager then turned to Yuji, one eye opening to glance at him before adding, “Make sure Satoru doesn’t say anything too disrespectful if you want Master Tengen’s cooperation. He might actually listen to you.”

“I’ll do my best, Geto-san.” 

“Comedians. The both of you.” Satoru rolled his eyes. “I guess that was easy enough. Is there anything else our sensei needs from us?”

“At the moment, no. Unless you plan to disappear with these two again.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it! There’s no reason to leave the guest house now that we have everything we need to marathon some movies.”

“Right. With the second-years. If nothing changes our plans, I’ll stop by around eleven-thirty to get you three. There are very few people in this world who shouldn’t be made to wait.” Yaga looked over the group one last time before taking his leave. “Every action has a consequence, Satoru. Even you aren’t immune to those.”

“It’s only a matter of time,” Satoru shouted after him. “We’ve got everything handled. The next nine or so hours will be smooth sailing.”

“I’m holding you to it.”

With that, Yaga left them to their own devices once more.

The second-years had yet to show themselves, and as such, there was a small window of time for the five of them to reconvene after a day spent splintered apart. Satoru was the first to take advantage of this opportunity, giving a light kick to Yuji’s foot with his own to get his brother’s attention when it had fallen to the floor. 

“Hey.”

Yuji jumped in his seat.

“Hey?”

“You could have told me— us —about what happened to Suguru from the beginning.” Satoru rested his chin against his palm, his voice remaining level as he continued. “Get why you didn’t though, so I’m not mad at you.”

“I, um, I’m sorry. I didn’t know how— Are you guys ok?”

“We will be.” Satoru smiled as he stood up from his chair. “Changing the future, one step at a time. And unless there are any other world-shattering revelations we should know about, we should focus on getting snacks out and deciding on our first movie. I didn’t notice what you guys picked out, but there better be some junk food in one of these cupboards, you hear me?”

“I don’t think there’s anything else. If there is, I’ll let you know.” Yuji turned to Suguru while Satoru poked through the fridge, the former sharing a look of guilt between them as if something had certainly been left unsaid. Shoko didn’t appear to have caught this, ready to follow Satoru to look for food and avoid the conversation progressing any further.

“I expect the same from you too,” Satoru whispered to Choso as he stretched to open the cupboard beside the curse’s head, pulling out the box of microwavable popcorn Yu had tossed in their basket as a strange necessity for them to possess. “Can’t have a movie without popcorn. Let’s pray a microwave is somewhere below here.”

“Please tell me you boys bought some healthy options too. Some fruit? Vegetables? I don’t know what a curse needs in terms of nutrition, but Yuji won’t survive on popcorn.” Shoko was appealing to Choso’s watchful eye when she was clearly looking for something to suit her tastes. Truthful, it did not bother him, and he was more than happy to open the fridge and reveal the strawberries and other items they had brought home that afternoon. 

“You may help yourself.”

“Thank god.” The pack would not last the night, seeing as how the moment Shoko popped the lid open, Satoru was quick to grab a bite for himself and toss a strawberry each at the two sitting at the table. 

As far from blissful as the scene was, there was some peace to be found in it.

“Hey! Can someone open the front door? Our hands are full!” 

Yu’s voice traveled in from the window, prompting Suguru onto his feet to assist the two waiting for them as he was closest to the door. “This television is a lot heavier than I thought it would be!”

“Then you shouldn’t have carried it alone!” 

That was Kento chastising him, strained either by the weight of whatever was in his hand or having to put up with Yu’s apparent stubbornness on the matter. This was enough to get Yuji out of his seat and rush to the front, ready to help in whatever way they may need him.

“Satoru! Where are they setting this all up?” Suguru yelled out.

“Yuji’s room! But you have to make sure— Hold on, I’m coming!” The teenager in question had indeed found a microwave, placing it on the table with not as much care as he should have before joining the ensuing mess by the front door.

Shoko could only laugh through her next bite, already in the midst of retrieving a bowl to place the rest of their strawberries in after being given a proper rinsing in water.

Unsure what he should do to contribute, Choso remained where he stood and took in all the noise, happy to pretend for just a few minutes that this was their normal, everyday life. Then he closed his eyes and removed himself from his fantasy, feeling the world around them for cursed energy, noting where each teenager stood and how much power he could sense from them. The rest of the campus, as far as Choso could stretch his senses, remained empty as the static underlying residuals of the area provided a baseline for the curse to compare everything else he sensed against.

They may be in a much more peaceful time compared to the future they hailed from, but that was no excuse for Choso to let his guard down. Kento had proven that, and Choso was determined to not allow the same mistake to be made a second time. 

As relieving as it was to know that Satoru was likely keeping his senses tuned into the flow of cursed energy as Choso was, even he deserved a break. Voluntarily or not, he was bound to reach a limit eventually. Choso would forgive Satoru for letting his guard down for the remainder of the night. With both of them present, only one was needed to keep watch.

They deserved to make use of their time together. 

Depending on the outcome of tomorrow’s meeting, there may not be much of it left.

Chapter Text

Focus on the movie, Satoru.

In practice, it was easier for Satoru to focus on the sentence itself rather than the screen in front of him, but that didn’t stop him from making an attempt completely.

The bedroom had been shifted around quite a bit to accommodate the group now occupying it. Yuji's bed had been angled in a new corner, with the longer side now resting against the opposing wall to the television so that the ones on top could use the wall as a support for their backs. Enough pillows and blankets had been swiped from every room to accommodate the group, with even those sitting on the floor gaining some form of comfort when they all eventually settled to start the first film.

Yuji was tucked in the corner, caught between the wall at his side and Choso, who had become his pillow just as he had been that morning when Satoru had found them. Nanami sat upright on the floor below, initially next to Haibara before the latter stretched out onto his stomach with his feet swinging in the air. Suguru was next to him, though like Nanami, sat with his legs crossed rather than lay on the floor completely which left Shoko to one to give herself a bit more space, pulling in two chairs for the purpose of having a place to sit and a place to prop up her feet. Ijichi had popped in for half a film, ultimately leaving when he was called to accompany another assistant on a mission. A small reminder they still had responsibilities outside this room. Something Satoru was doing his damnedest to forget.

And speaking of himself, rounding out the set-up was Satoru, sitting next to Choso with one leg draped over the side of the bed with the perfect view of Suguru’s hair bun poking out from over the edge of the bed. His friend had stayed longer than Satoru had assumed he would, but there was not a single cell in his body that would complain. 

All of this? Right here? This was nice.

This was supposed to be nice.

And somehow, Satoru’s brain wasn’t getting the memo.

Nothing on the screen was capturing his attention. No amount of lights or visual effects could distract him long enough for his body to meld into his seat. The nonsensical plot was engaging enough for Nanami to look as though he were enjoying himself and the characters on the screen had sparked opinions to be shared and argued over by Haibara and Shoko on more than one instance. 

They were watching an action-comedy weren’t they? So why couldn’t Satoru laugh in time with the others? Why did his fingers keep tapping the side of the bed? His legs unable to commit to a single pose?

How could Satoru glue his eyes to the screen when the images in his peripheral sent his mind into a downward spiral? Each one a reminder of the multitude of failures that shaped the future that the brother’s beside him traveled from. 

Yuji was still grieving the death of Nanami’s future counterpart. A fact clear as day whenever the time traveler let his eyes wander to the blond hair in front of him. Any ounce of joy he’d built up would temporarily crumble, and while some interactions were better than others, it was the smallest of moments when Yuji would turn away and squeeze his eyes shut now that Satoru knew he wasn’t doing nearly as well as the younger teenager would have him believe.

From one to the next, Satoru’s eyes panned right to left, growing more unsettled by the three who just had to sit in the space in front of him. They just all had to end up next to each other.

Maybe Satoru should move and break up the foreboding reminder in front of him. But switching with Suguru wouldn’t work, Choso and he weren’t on the best of terms and that might just be the last push his friend needed to return to his dorm. Can’t have that. And separating Haibara and Nanami? Even if Satoru could easily get Haibara to swap places, Nanami was an absolute killjoy when he wasn’t balanced out by his cheerful other half. 

One could only imagine what Nanami was like after… 

Satoru crossed his arms, extra careful to keep the hand whose nails were tearing into him as he was now more pissed off than ever that he didn’t think to make the connection earlier. 

No wonder Nanami left. Satoru would have liked to say he’d do the same thing after losing Suguru, but he’d be lying given how the future Yuji described played out— Suguru. 

He didn’t want to think of future Suguru right now. He couldn’t. 

Things were going to change— They already were changing. So what if future Suguru had left once already? That he didn’t come back? Presumably, because future Satoru hadn’t done his fucking job and kept even a single tab on him—When did future Suguru leave? Did they ever bother speaking to each other after? If he was still so damn important to him, why did future Satoru let him—

Satoru stared into the brightest section of the television screen until his eyes stung, hoping that would put an end to the string of thoughts he continually found no control over.

Honestly, what was the point in thinking about this at all? Any of it? To keep getting upset over all that now would be a pointless waste of energy.

And yet Satoru’s fingers were still twitching, and now his teeth were clamped so tight he could feel the strain throughout his entire forehead. 

“What do you mean it doesn’t matter!?” 

“How I die doesn’t matter?”

“Satoru, what you said before, about Haibara—”

“Some people tend to avoid talking about the dead.”

“Should we warn Nanami as well?”

“About himself—”

“Popcorn’s out! I’m going to microwave another bag.”

Haibara’s voice pulled Satoru from his thoughts. The second-year shimmied along the ground to remain out of everyone’s view in a military crawl, scooping the large bowl filled with the remaining unpopped kernels from the previous bag as he went. Once successful in reaching the door, Haibara climbed to his feet and saluted those eyeing his antics before disappearing down the hall.

“I’m… going to grab something to drink. Don’t bother pausing.” Satoru bounced off the bed and headed towards the door, seizing the opportunity to break free and stretch with no one to question why he needed such a large breath of air.

None of those thoughts were leaving his head, and at this point, Satoru was under the belief it was best to shift his focus onto one person in particular to keep his head in check. This small window was the perfect opportunity to speak to Haibara on his own about… Well, it was a conversation that needed to happen. It was better to just share what he knew now while they had the chance. The sooner, the better. That’s what Suguru wanted, right?

“Is something the matter, Gojo-senpai?”

Satoru looked up from his feet to find he’d already entered the kitchen, currently hovering around the entryway as awkward as could be. The second-year was in the midst of removing the plastic from another bag of popcorn, the microwave they had pulled out from under the counter already open and ready to receive what Haibara was about to shove inside.  

“Am I in the way?”

“You? Nah. I’m just thinking about something…”

It was time to stop stalling.

Satoru walked over to the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water, more so something to fiddle with between his hands than to actually drink. Instead of closing the door right away, Satoru remained crouched in front of the fridge as if looking for something else inside. A distraction for his eyes. Something to stare at while he blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

“Hey, Haibara.”

“Hm?”

“You’re going to die.”

“Senpai, everyone dies eventually. That’s kind of how life works.”

Haibara let out a chuckle as he shut the microwave door. A button push later and the machine blared to life. 

“No, I mean… soon. Next couple years at the latest.” All the energy had left Satoru’s voice. While not intentional, for one of the few times in his life, he’d truly hoped he could avoid coming across as sarcastic. 

“Oh.” Haibara’s eyes flickered between him and the microwave. “If this is some kind of joke, it’s not very funny. We haven’t even touched the horror movies yet—”

“It’s not a joke.”

Both teenagers turned around to find Suguru standing beside the table behind them. A quick flash of frustration was directed Satoru’s way, but it faded as quickly as it appeared. There were a hundred and one ways to go telling Haibara what they knew, but for the life of him, Satoru was barely managing to skirt by as they were currently.

To learn about what may happen to his classmates. To even humor the potential of such tragic events to occur in the future they had yet to experience— It was different from discussing his own. No matter how much Satoru tried to convince himself of the contrary, the amount of control he wished he had over his own fate could not compare here. 

“Geto-senpai!”

“As vague of a warning it is, Satoru is telling the truth.”

“W-wait, but, how do you know? Did you get my fortune told behind my back or something? I don’t understand...”

Satoru stood up and closed the fridge, eyes already settled on the bag he’d given to Yuji, now by its lonesome in the far corner of the kitchen counter. Not the safest place for something like this, especially since anyone could rifle through and find the prophetic photographs inside, but considering Yuji’s bedroom had been occupied by their entire student body, Satoru would let it slide. 

Right now, the decision to leave them here was working in his favor. 

“We know because…” Satoru reached inside for the envelope containing his proof, flipping as quickly as he could through the stack of photos until he came across the one from his memory that was the most relevant to their conversation. “Of these.”

Ah. 

Here was the one he was looking for.

Satoru tore out the image he’d lingered on once before, twirling it between his fingers for both Haibara and Suguru to see the captured scene of a man with flour speckled in his hair, meticulously kneading dough under his palm. 

“Can you guess who this is?”

“I don’t… I never met a man with blond— Nanami.” Haibara sucked in a breath of air before swiping the image from Satoru’s fingers and lifting it up above his head. Then to the side. Then flipped it over and back again until at the perfect angle required for what he was seeing to sink in. Suguru had barely gotten a chance to see the photo for himself, so Haibara held it out to him as he explained his conclusion. 

“It’s him. I know it’s him! His hair might be duller, and he’s definitely kept himself in good shape but—his eyes. They’re the same. Tired, stern, always serious even while doing something so... But he’s still enjoying himself, see? There’s a hint of a smile there.” Now facing his upperclassman, Haibara’s eyes held nothing but confusion. “W-Where did you even get this? How did you—?”

“Yuji. He’s the one who took it.”

“But… Wait wait wait!” Haibara looked at Suguru, “Hold on! Is this—Yesterday! Yesterday you were asking about time travel—!”

“Keep your voice down!” Suguru hissed out. All three teenagers collectively shut their mouths, tuning their ears into the echoes of a fight playing out on the television screen to high-energy music. When it became clear they hadn’t been heard, the conversation continued. “By some stroke of fate, we came across Yuji and his brother while in Shibuya. They’re—”

“Time travelers!?” Even with both hands covering his mouth, Haibara’s whispering did not lack in the utter excitement that came with such a revelation. Neither third-year told him he was wrong, which led to Haibara bouncing on his feet more. “Yuji-kun’s from the future! Why now? How? Was it due to a cursed technique?”

“No idea.” Satoru shrugged. “Actually, I don’t even know if he has a technique. We’re still trying to figure out how it happened, and hopefully, we’ll get some answers tomorrow…” 

Answers from Tengen. What a meeting that will be.

“Yuji-kun knows adult Nanami. Look at them—No wonder he gets all nervous around him! Do you have more of these… or?” Seeing no reason to deny it, Satoru went back through the pile of photos and pulled out an image of Nanami, this time sitting in the backseat of a car. Yuji had been sitting next to him, his sneakers poking out at the bottom of the frame as he leaned as far back as he could to take that photo. “He’s so professional! A proper sorcerer! A suit and tie—did Yuji-kun take this one too? Were they going on a mission together? Are they… Do they get along?”

“According to our dear Yuji, Nanami was his mentor. But future me’s his official teacher, and that definitely makes me his number one!”

“There’s no need to sound so jealous, Satoru.” Suguru shook his head, receiving the photo from Haibara with a mixed reaction of fondness and melancholy. “Itadori’s relationship with Nanami wasn’t the same as yours. It’s not a competition.” He then handed both photos now in his possession off back to him. “He was his father figure more than anything else.”

Father figure… 

Nanami!?

Satoru squinted his eyes, demanding to know where Suguru got that description from. 

“Nanami? Since when? And how do you know that? Why does he get to be Yuji’s father figure?”

“Itadori told me that himself. Honestly—Are you even mature enough to be a father figure to anyone?”

Suguru’s statement wasn’t meant to be as hurtful as it was, but that could be the tinge of jealousy talking. And maybe a tad bit of offense. Truthfully, Satoru couldn’t figure out where such feelings were coming from. Suguru words, while harsh, weren’t wrong. Satoru wasn’t mature, and he never sought to change that. As much as his family would continually harass him on the subject of continuing their accused bloodline, he never planned or even humored the thought of having kids.

Kids and Satoru just don’t mix. That was a fact. Hell, he’d probably mess them up more given the immaculate job he was doing to keep himself in check. 

Still, Satoru couldn’t help but peek down at the photos in his hand, the restaurant scene still fresh in his memory. The boy’s eyes glared at future Satoru’s intrusive thumb through an embarrassed shade of red. It was such a parental move, wasn’t it? Or was Satoru reading too far into what could have been a spur-of-the-moment decision?

Toji’s kid. His name was Megumi, wasn’t it?

Fushiguro Megumi.

“Shouldn’t Megumi’s surname be Zenin? I thought the clan would take him in because he inherited that special technique of theirs—I saw him doing the hand signs in one of those later photos. I’ve heard some stories of the ten shadows technique, but I haven’t gotten to witness it in action before.”

“No. Fushiguro is Fushiguro. He was never sold to the Zenin clan. Future you stopped it before it could go through.”

“Why would I do that?” 

“I don’t know. But you did him a favor.”

Did he?

If not with the Zenin clan, then where had Megumi lived all those years? Did future Satoru take him in or just toss some money his way and hope for the best? Instinct led Satoru to believe his future counterpart may have done the latter, which started to leave a sour taste in his mouth he couldn’t quite explain. 

“The day I swallowed that finger, Fushiguro’s the one who asked you to spare my life.”

Satoru wasn’t delusional enough to believe he could take credit for Megumi’s inclination to save Yuji, but through whatever relationship Megumi and future Satoru had, they were close enough for Toji’s kid to ask future Satoru to spare Sukuna’s vessel. Close enough for future Satoru to accept it.

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

The microwave sputtered to a stop. 

The tiny screen’s lights flickered on and off, demanding everyone’s attention as the last few kernels popped inside the bag. Haibara, being closest, opened the small door and retrieved the contents inside with the tips of his fingers, wincing at the heat before setting it on the counter to cool. 

The whole event lasted no less than a minute, but that was more than enough time for Satoru to return to the present and face the current conversation at hand. 

“Wow. I just can’t believe… I mean I can believe they’re, that he’s his—” Haibara lifted his head, his earlier excitement now fallen to the ground. “You said was. Nanami was his father figure. Past tense. You said I’m going to… Does Nanami…?”

“Yeah.” Suguru answered, slipping a hand in his pocket as he worked to maintain eye contact with the second-year staring up at him. “In relation to us, if nothing changes there’s at least a decade before it happens. For Itadori, his loss was recent. He’s still recovering.”

“Oh.”

The second-year had gotten so quiet, it was unsettling. Knowing he’d be unable to handle the sight of Haibara crying, Satoru pointed at the photos in his hand and tried his best not to say what he needed to without making it worse.

“Ok, look. You see these photos— Of course you can, you have eyes —You should be in them. You and Nanami both should be waiting in that future of his for Yuji to come home, and you’re not. We can’t change Yuji’s future. I know it sucks. No one is happy about it, but we’re going to make sure all of that doesn’t happen this time around.” 

Satoru stepped back to return the photos and their envelope to Yuji’s bag. He remained facing the counter, pressing his glasses into place before he continued. 

“I know it’s vague, and we have no answers to how or when, but you could be more careful? Take fewer missions? Obviously, we’ll be keeping an eye out too… just, don’t die. That’s an order from your senpai.”

“An order from my senpai, huh? I have no choice but to listen.” Haibara let out a weak laugh, nodding his head along as he went through the motions of pouring the bag of popcorn into his bowl, processing everything Satoru was telling him. “I don’t think any of us can start turning down missions with how things are, but I know my limits. We have to put ourselves in danger to fight cursed spirits and help people, but that doesn’t mean I won’t be more careful. And I won’t let you guys down. I promise.”

“Damn right you will.”

Haibara’s answer… It felt too easy, yet there was no way Satoru would complain. They were getting what they wanted, right? If the butterfly effect was to be believed, then some of what they were doing was bound to steer Yuji’s future far away from theirs. 

It should work out just fine.

 “You’re taking this rather well, all things considered.” Suguru couldn’t leave well enough alone. And Satoru would have been more annoyed at prolonging this conversation, but it wasn’t exactly a subject that could be easily brushed under the rug. 

“The honest answer is that I’m freaking out quite a lot right now. I mean, time travel is real! Isn’t that insane? A lot of crying on the inside— But! Like Gojo-senpai said, you’re working hard to make sure the same bad things don’t happen again! I’m going to do my best too and hope it all pays off!” With a fist in one hand, Haibara slammed it into his opposing palm to emphasize just how eager he was. “There isn’t much use in worrying beyond that, so I’m going to focus on the good things instead— Like Yuji-kun! Since he’s from the future, there’s probably a smaller version of him running around right now, which means we’re going to get to meet him twice! And the one already with us, he gets to see Nanami again after all that… I can’t imagine how tough this is for him.”

“No one said you can’t cry.”

“I know. But if I start crying now it’s going to get really ugly, and I don’t want to go back with swollen cheeks.” As a preemptive counter, Haibara spun around and turned the kitchen sink on to splash cold water across his face. Only after he was satisfied, did another question come to mind. “Does Nanami know about any of this?”

“Not yet.” Satoru leaned an elbow on the counter beside him. “Still trying to figure out the best way to bring it up—All this time travel business needs to be kept a secret. But because of stuff with you two, we thought it would be better to share. If the right people know, then the right changes can occur. But, uh, Shoko and Yaga know. If that helps.”

Haibara shut off the faucet. Water dripped from the edges of his bangs into the basin. Satoru thought he should be handing him a towel, but he wouldn’t even know where to begin looking around the room.

“Can my senpais do me a favor?”

One glance at Suguru was all Satoru needed to agree without any hesitation.

“Sure. Name it.”

“Don’t tell Nanami about what happened to future me.”

Don’t tell Nanami?

“Why?” It was Suguru who questioned him, flanking Haibara’s other side as he tried to understand where Haibara was coming from.

“Nanami doesn’t always show it, but he worries about me. A lot. My cursed technique works best when I have a partner and since I play the support role, that designates me as someone to look out for. I don’t blame him for it. I appreciate everything Nanami does, but if he learns what happened… It’ll only make him worry more. He’ll get distracted, and I don’t want to burden him like that.” 

“I doubt you would be considered a—”

“You can tell him about the future stuff! I mean, you really should— when Yuji’s ready —but when it comes to the rest, I'll look out enough for the both of us!” Haibara’s confidence was infectious, his wide grin jumping to the older pair, even if neither of them could match his intensity. With little warning, he wrapped his arms around and surprised Suguru, trapping him in a hug as he added, “We’re going to be fine. Ten years is a lot of time to change how things go.”

“Yeah, it is.” Satoru echoed as he patted the second-year’s back. “The future has nothing on us.”

With that affirmation, Haibara released Suguru and took the popcorn bowl in his hands. 

“We should probably get back to the others. Popcorn doesn’t normally take this long to make.”

“I mean, you know how technology is so unreliable these days.” Satoru received a finger snap from Haibara and a smirk to follow in agreement of their well-thought-out excuse. Before the two could start walking back to the group, Suguru piped up from behind them.

“I’ll do you both the courtesy and let you both know now that I’m heading out after this film ends. I’ve reached my limit for today.” Suguru had lasted far longer than Satoru originally expected. There was very little reason to argue against his decision as much as Satoru wished he would stay through the night as he planned.

“We’ll probably go after the next one.” Haibara pointed toward Yuji’s room. “Nanami is starting to get all agitated.”

“Isn’t he always agitated?” Satoru skipped past Haibara, walking backward ahead of them in order to keep speaking face-to-face as they moved. When they got to the door, Satoru stuck his foot out to keep it open while his underclassman walked through.

“Only when he’s around you, senpai.” 

A laugh broke out from over Haibara’s shoulder. Making no effort to hide his annoyance, Satoru reached up and flicked at Suguru’s forehead as many times as he could while the other teenager walked by until one of his strikes hit his target, earning him a flick in retaliation before getting his hand shoved away.

Haibara paid their squabble no mind as he made it back to his seat, stopping only when Shoko tugged at the bowl in his hands to steal a handful of popcorn for herself. The second-year didn’t object, flashing a smile before returning to the floor and resting his head on Nanami’s shoulder without a word.

Satoru looked over at the two brothers still on the bed, Yuji’s half-closed eyes poked over Choso’s arm, curious as to what had taken so long. Knowing this wasn’t the time to get into it, Satoru waved Yuji’s concern away with his hand.

“We didn’t miss anything important, did we?”

By the look of things, the film had already reached its climax, leaving returning students to pick up the pieces between the noise and spectacle on screen and Shoko’s rushed explanation of what had occurred in their absence. Just as before, Satoru couldn’t quite get as comfortable as he’d hoped. After all that, whatever remaining anxieties that had been picking away at him should have been quelled. It only seemed fair.

But, no one ever said life was fair. 

Because that would be nice. 

And apparently, life wasn’t nice either.

As content as he could be, Satoru rested his hands on his lap. Tuning out from the sound pouring in his ears, he let the world fade away for a brief time, hoping his remaining hang-ups would cease for a while, taking solace in ticking off one more box on the growing list of things that needed to be addressed.

There were only so many hours left before he’d have to revisit said list tomorrow.

“Satoru!”

“What— Oh.”  Satoru lifted his head, squinting his eyes shut at the sunlight poking through his hand. From his place on the guesthouse steps, he was greeted by the sight of Yaga standing over him. 

Was it eleven-thirty already?

“Morning Sensei.”

“Color me impressed, you’re on time for once.” The man looked past him, frowning at the closed door facing Satoru’s back. “And the other two?”

“Still getting ready. Yuji finally slept more than a couple hours in a proper bed, so Choso and I figured we may as well see how far we can push it until he had to wake up.” 

While catching the two brothers on the ground the previous morning was amusing, it was far from the optimal position to sleep in. A one-way ticket to neck pain and a sore ass. Choso was agreeable when it came to looking out for the one kid whose blind spot over general well-being just had to be himself, so it took next to nothing to convince him that his brother should sleep in. Even if Yuji would curse at them later for running the risk of showing up late. 

“Better to be awake than not at all I suppose.” Yaga sighed. There was a pause between that thought and the next, a window given for the two inside to come out and end their conversation early. But when that didn’t happen, the man took his bets on how long they would take and made himself comfortable as one could be on the steps leading inside.

“We need to talk about yesterday.” Of course they do. “Why do the second-years know about those two?”

Satoru tossed his head back and groaned, knowing full well he couldn’t avoid this lecture even if he were to sprint for the hills. That still wouldn’t stop him from trying.

“Originally? I figured out Yuji already knew Nanami, and I wanted to see how far that went.”

“Was it worth it?”

Was it?

“ If I say yes, will you spare me the lecture?”

“Satoru—”

“Fine. I don’t know! Ok!?” Satoru pulled back his bangs, fiddling with his glasses as he tried to keep his answer from echoing into the building inside. “I mean, it should be? I keep learning more and more about the future Yuji’s comes from, that should be a good thing! But it just keeps getting worse. Like it is some kind of game to see what sort of bad news could possibly top the last!”

King of Curses incarnated once more? A shitty event in of itself made worse by whom the curse’s host is, but that’s the life of one person. One really good person.  

His future self getting shoved in a box to initiate the Culling Game? Satoru could accept something bad happening to him— karma was bound to catch up with him someday —but the consequences that followed? The world in literal ruins? All because his future self made one stupid mistake—No. A multitude of mistakes. Misjudgment and failing to act when he should have known better— How else could he explain what happened to the second-years? What happened to Suguru—

Satoru let go of his head, keeping his eyes steady on his open palms now resting in his lap.

“On one hand, learning it all sucks. It pisses me off, and it’s not even Yuji’s fault. He’s just living in a world we took part in creating.” He flexed his opposing hand in an effort to let go of the rising tension. “On the other hand, I can safely say that since I know what could happen, we can avoid it. It’s easy. We just keep an eye out for the signs and boom—Future saved. We did it.” He raised a half-assed fist in the air in mocking celebration. “Go team.”

Since they were already on the subject, Satoru thought he may as well keep Yaga up to date on what happened last night after the man left them to their own devices.

“Haibara… He knows the truth about what’s going on. I told him a few hours after you left—And before you say anything, I’m not just blabbering my mouth to everyone about this! I’m choosing when and where—There’s a method, see? It’s for the greater good. ‘Cause if him knowing prevents both of them from being—”

Satoru couldn’t say it aloud.

Saying it made it feel more real than it should be. Like willfully inviting a jinx into their lives.

“That’s why I told him. I plan to tell Nanami too… eventually. There. No more surprises for you.”

“The heads-up is appreciated.” His sensei diverted his eyes, piecing together what Satoru had learned from the absent information. There was so much more he could say, but both of them knew there was little point in repeating sentiments Satoru already knew the man felt. A hand fell on Satoru’s shoulder somewhere in the midst of their silence. Yaga was going to keep speaking, but he showed no signs of preparing to yell whatever he felt was necessary. Instead, they just talked.

“You’re not as much of an idiot as your carelessness can lead people to believe. In fact, you’re intuitive when you want to be. But Satoru,” Yaga gave him a tug, urging the teenager to look up at him. “I need you to understand, whatever happens regardless of your actions going forward, there is a reasonable amount of responsibility to take on. One man can’t support the weight of the world on his shoulders.”

“But the Limitless technique—”

“Isn’t a part of this metaphor.” Yaga kneaded his eyebrows. “Are you taking in what I’m saying?”

“Yeah. I am.” 

Despite his answer, despite understanding the definitions of the words Yaga spoke, Satoru couldn’t see how that applied to him. Rather, he couldn’t see why. He was Gojo Satoru. That meant something. It always had. If anyone could handle the world, it was him. Learning of the Culling Games taking place in his future self’s absence only reaffirmed that.

But there was no point in arguing.

Cranking his neck around revealed that the brothers still weren’t out yet. Sitting in silence was annoying, and Yaga appeared to agree with that on some level, offering to move away from the doom and gloom to something else to pass the time.

“I’m sure not every aspect of Yuji’s future is grim. He’s quite fond of the person you grew into.”

“Who wouldn’t be? I’m amazing. But… you’re right. Yuji’s photos weren’t entirely made up of bad omens. Silver lining and all that.”

“He showed you more?”

“I printed out his camera roll during our supply run.” Satoru pulled from his memory a handful of things that had initially caught his interest. “Utahime is a teacher at the Kyoto branch. I think Yuji’s friends with one of her students.”

“Now that doesn’t surprise me.” A small smile appeared on Yaga’s face as he recalled his graduate student. “She always had an inclination towards teaching her juniors. Not that all of them would listen.”

“I listen to her just fine.” Satoru scoffed when the man rolled his eyes. “Oh, and Shoko grows her hair out. So that’s something.”

“And did she officially take over as the school nurse?”

“That’s correct. Yuji knew her already when she came in to check up on him. Not sure if that’s a good thing, but it is what it is.” Tapping on his chin, Satoru stopped at the memory of the peculiar group photo taken after the baseball game, recalling his own internal reminder to ask about it. “Question. Why would future you allow a panda to attend as a student?”

“A… panda?”

“Way too emotive to be a costume.”

“I don’t know, Satoru.” His sensei turned away, mulling over the thought. “My future self admitted Sukuna’s vessel into our school, I’m not quite sure what to make of his admission standards.”

“Oh, come on. You’re not the least bit curious? You don’t even want to take a guess?”

Before Yaga could counter, the sound of the front door opening behind them had the man rising to his feet, signaling their small talk had come to an abrupt end.

“And here they come. Good morning you two.”

“Morning Yaga-san! Sorry for taking so long!”

Satoru would have frowned at the sudden interruption, but seeing Yuji fly out the door and almost trip on the stairs was enough to shake the older teenager from his sour mood. 

“After all that sleep, and you still look just as exhausted as when you went to bed. Sukuna ain’t giving you trouble, is he?” Satoru glanced over at Choso as he climbed to his feet, curious if the older brother would reveal anything Yuji wouldn’t.

“No more than usual. Really. I’m fine!” In contrast to Yuji’s words, his older brother appeared less confident, but not enough to warrant too much concern. Something for a later time then. “We’re all set to go. All this anticipation is making me lose it! I’m so much more nervous than before.”

“Just keep it together a bit longer, and you’ll be fine.”

“If you say so, sensei!” 

Yuji’s comment led Yaga to turn to Satoru before shaking his head, still in disbelief. 

“You three will follow me.”

With the group together and ready to head out, Yaga took the lead in escorting them to the entrance to Tengen’s domain. Far from the central campus, a series of repeating Toril gates wound a path along the mountainside, each one bringing the group deeper into isolation before the first set of doors between themselves and Tengen made themselves known. This was Satoru’s first time approaching this area of the school. One step after another, Satoru would continue to stare down at his feet, all too aware of the faint traces of cursed energy Suguru had left behind when he fled this place a year ago. He couldn’t help but avoid tracing the pattern of footprints with his own, even if he looked a bit odd doing it.

Any excitement the group possessed was buried under a blanket of dread, stemming from the fear of what answers were waiting for them. 

Upon opening the first door, dozens revealed themselves on the other side. A never-ending maze of entrances, exits, and openings that simply led to nowhere in particular in an effort to keep those unwelcome in Tengen’s domain from ever uncovering it. To Satoru’s mild surprise, Choso joined Yaga at the front of the group, pointing in the direction they needed to go with confidence their sensei could not match. 

“He can sense them.” Yuji murmured an explanation Satoru’s way, keeping his pace steady so that he was always equal distances between the two ahead of them and the older teenager behind him. 

Who ‘them’ were was answered within the seconds it took for the question to form. The next door out of a number Satoru hadn’t bothered to count took them from an unassuming hall to the midst of another forest. Trees that look and felt too real to be fake towered over their heads, pointing at a midnight sky with no moon or stars in sight. Tucked within a clearing which held yet another set of doors to traverse through was a large metal warehouse. 

The school’s warehouse.

A building that set Satoru’s eyes ablaze when compared to the absence of any cursed energy that could compare to the numerous objects stored inside. Weapons. Artifacts. Sealed containers and oh so much more, the blackened tint of Satoru’s sunglasses could only do so much as his eyes adjusted to the sudden beacon of information flooding into his brain. 

Once all the chaos settled down, whom Yuji was referring to was the collection of nine cursed objects set all in a row, not a single one disturbed since the day they were moved into permanent storage.

How Choso could remain so calm as he stared upon the building was unknown to Satoru. The curse said nothing as he deviated from the path, standing silent in front of the large metal door which kept him from seeing the objects— his siblings— inside.

Yaga observed him cautiously, prepared to move if need be while still giving the curse every chance to prove their faith was not misplaced. The intrusive thought of Choso taking advantage of their visit had crossed Satoru’s mind, but as with most intrusive thoughts, he shoved such doubt aside as he expected better from the time he’d spent observing him.

A jolt ran through both sorcerers’ bodies as the curse placed his hand against the metal sheet, but before either could act, it was Yuji who scurried over to him first. The younger sibling looked up, then to the door, hesitant to place his hand beside Choso’s in search of what the elder had sensed. 

Then the curse spoke, just above a whisper for Satoru to catch wind of their exchange.

“Move past your confusion and listen. This is Yuji. He’s your youngest brother. Remember him. Commit his energy to memory and if you ever meet him, protect him with your life.” The curse paused and lowered his head. “I’m deeply sorry. I can’t come for you all now. But someday, I hope circumstances will allow us to reunite once more.”

Yuji added his own apology after his brother’s.

“I’m sorry... For everything. I hope things go differently this time around.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for. Eso and Kechizu—”

“You say that. You always say that, and I know, but… I need to say it. It wouldn’t be right if I didn’t.”

Choso did not argue further. 

The two exchanged a nod, accepting their positions. Stepping back from the warehouse, the brothers returned to the two onlookers with little inclination to discuss what had happened further. It wasn’t the time to pry, and if Yaga was good enough to continue on without the need for an explanation, then so was Satoru.

“These doors here are for an elevator. They’re the last stretch to Master Tengen’s domain.” Yaga’s voice ushered them inside the old machine, still functional despite being so far removed from any noticeable power source. When the chains holding their modest cabin hadn’t broken upon stepping inside, any hesitation to continue was left behind as Yaga flipped the switch for their lengthy descent.

Even as they kept their heads forward, Satoru could make out Yuji’s trembling hands grabbing hold of his brother’s beside him. All too caught up in the same feeling, Satoru ruffled Yuji’s semi-wet hair, casting a smirk his way before a light broke through behind the metal grating in front of them. 

The elevator came to a halt. 

Then the doors opened, and they returned their hands to themselves.

At the bottom of this pit lie three tunnels built into the wall, their arches just tall enough for all of them to walk through without anyone having to duck their heads. Only darkness could be seen when peering in from where they stood, but with no other choice but to press on forward, the darkness was where they would tread.

Satoru ignored the bloodstains that had been left undisturbed on the ground.

He knew whose blood that was. He knew how far Suguru and Riko had gone. He could see the traces of his friend’s cursed energy from when he and Toji clashed, the remnant sparks of his cursed spirits scattered about like dust on the stone below his feet.

“What happened here...?” Out of the four of them, Yuji was the one whose eyes lingered on the floor, growing uneasy stepping over what remained of the last visit to Tengen’s domain.

“Nothing important.” Satoru was quick to shut Yuji’s question down. It wasn’t worth going over the details. “Come on, we’re getting close. Ain’t that right, sensei?”

“It should be on the other side. Stick close, got it?”

The trio behind Yaga did as they were told, keeping close as they braved the darkened tunnel for another endless walk. At some point, Satoru had half the mind to suggest they take out their phones for any kind of light to make sure they weren’t walking in circles, but such an intuitive idea came too little too late as the first breach in the darkness came into view. Akin to a hole punched through a dark set of curtains, the small spec grew larger as they approached until the tunnel itself gave way to a chamber filled with nothing but pure, all-consuming white.

Satoru’s own eyes were overwhelmed by the intensity without any place to redirect his gaze as the same empty void stared back at him no matter which way he turned his head. The only defining feature of this place was the eerie quiet that permeated even the steps they walked.

“This is the Tombs of the Star Corridor?” 

His question was answered by his sensei’s grimace.

“No, something isn’t right. Master Tengen is supposed to be here.”

“Well, where the hell are they!? Don’t tell me we just traveled all the way down here for nothing!” A shift in the air had the hairs on Satoru’s neck standing tall, sending his physical senses into a frenzy when his mind was currently overloaded by the cursed energy around them.

He whipped his head around to face the presence he felt, already informed by the surprise on Yuji’s face that something had manifested behind him. 

Not something— Someone.

“Six Eyes, descendant of Sugawara Michizane.” Even without pupils, Satoru could feel all four eyes of this human-esc image looking directly at him before addressing the additional three he’d brought with him. Their voice was human only in the way the words held purpose as the sound that shaped them felt vaguely distorted within the minor echo the room provided. “Corpse Stitcher. Death Painting. And… Sukuna’s Vessel.”

“Master Tengen.” Yaga straightened himself before bowing his head. Yuji jumped before doing the same with his brother to follow. 

Satoru gave a faint nod and left it at that.

“You’re Master Tengen?” Yuji tilted his head as he looked Tengen over. “Why do you look—I mean, I expected someone—”

“Appearing more human?” The image smiled while placing a hand on their chest. “I may be immortal, but I am not immune to aging. Give yourself five hundred years or so, and you’ll look the same as I do.”

“For real—?”

“—Why don’t my Six Eyes sense you?”  

Satoru circled around Tengen, finding every possible angle to view the image of the master they came to see. He ignored his sensei’s gestures to knock it off, too focused on his need for an explanation.

“The concentration of cursed energy is driving me up a wall, but it doesn’t drown their presence out. I can sense Yuji’s cursed energy just fine, but yours? Nada.”

“You’re still young, so it is no surprise that your abilities have further stages of development.” Despite maintaining a cordial attitude, Tengen’s words still irked Satoru’s ego. “My true form is that of the world itself. The cursed energy is mine as I am it, no longer in possession of a physical form. What you are seeing now, as you may have already guessed, is a conjured image so that we may converse. It is through the barrier techniques I possess that allow me to retain my sense of self in spite of this elevated state.”

No longer possess a physical form… The merger!

Correction. 

The failed merger.

Tengen’s current form was the result of their failure to unite the Star Plasma vessel and Tengen. Riko’s body would have been the physical link to maintain Tengen’s original state, if they could really call it that. Satoru knew this outcome was to be expected. There was no reason to feel guilt over it either. He had been prepared for this even if that assassin hadn’t cut Riko’s life short as the end result wouldn't have changed if Riko simply refused the merger and they all went home.

The only reason Satoru could think to mourn was because one version of events held one less tragedy. 

“Now that introductions are out of the way, there are important matters that need to be discussed. I expected you would bring one of them with you, but having both come here was the best choice.” Tengen turned to Yuji and Choso. “Imagine my surprise when I felt the world temporarily unravel. Two individuals whose cursed energy does not mingle with the world, yet possesses a counterpart that does. Outsiders from another reality entirely.”

Two. 

That meant Yuji and Choso came from the future alone.

“You were probably just as surprised as we were, considering how it happened… unless you deal with this kind of thing regularly?” Yuji scratched the side of his head, doing his best to hide his nervousness. 

“Few are able to wade through the waters of time. Time-based abilities are nothing new. Altering one’s own perception of time or glimpsing into a time that has yet to pass are examples of such things, but for one to physically travel from one instance to another, for the future to step foot into the past… It’s unprecedented. Equally fascinating as it is concerning.”

“It was an accident. I think—I mean, we have no idea how we ended up here. I blinked once and then the next thing I knew, I was in a Shibuya I couldn’t recognize. And, we didn’t come here to cause trouble! I swear, I only want to help—”

“It is not your current intentions that hold my concern.” The specter of Tengen raised their hand, urging Yuji to calm down. “It is that you are able to stand here at all, without meaning to no less. Whatever has transpired in your time must have truly shaken the foundations of the world to allow your displacement to occur.”

“Like the Culling Game?” It took a moment for Yuji to elaborate, expressing an apology on his face as he continued. “An old sorcerer who once possessed Kamo Noritoshi’s body activated a technique that turned normal people into sorcerers and awakened sealed cursed objects inside others for his Culling Game in which everyone involved fights to the death. As far as I know, all of Japan is involved. We were on our way to see you for answers about what was going on, but ended up in the past instead. If you combine that with the insane amount of cursed spirits he unleashed in Tokyo, that would mess the world up pretty bad, wouldn’t it?”

“Hm… It may. Unfortunately, I have not borne witness to this event, so I cannot say with absolute certainty. Nor can I clarify what it all means or its purpose beyond your explanation.”

“Wonderful.” Satoru stuck his hands in his pockets and rocked on his feet. This trip was getting them nowhere. “You’ve been such a great help so far. I feel one step closer to enlightenment already.”

“Satoru!” His sensei was quick to scold him, using much of his restraint to avoid stomping over and smacking him in the back of his head. 

“What? We’re here for answers and so far, we haven’t received jack. Unless that changes then we’re wasting our time!”

“I disagree.” Choso cut in between them, angered by Satoru’s antics. “Our discussion is far from over and it is rash to declare we’re walking away with nothing when we have yet to leave. That being said, Master Tengen is just as in need of answers as we are and so far we've provided an ample sum.” 

The curse stepped forward, taking a second to keep his composure while a glare slipped through his usual calm demeanor. 

“The future of version you we originally sought out should be able to fill in what you currently cannot. For now, we are grateful for anything you can provide us, no matter how small. It’s still more information than what we had to start with.”

“While I can’t comment with certainty, I am still capable of speculation. Especially if the one who is responsible for your Culling Game is who I believe them to be.”

“And that is?”

“The one who inhabited Kamo Noritoshi’s body was a sorcerer named Kenjaku. A sorcerer whose interest lies within the evolution of mankind. They come and go from my sight, leaving countless footprints across history with no trail to string them together. If Kenjaku is behind this, then their machinations run deeper than you may realize. Such events by their doing could very well create the conditions I previously mentioned for you to have jumped through time, but whether its an unintentional side effect or an outcome already accounted for—”

“—You can’t say,” Yuji muttered, grabbing hold of his arm. “At least we have a name. Do you know who this Kenjaku is now?”

“No. Existing as long as we have grants insight for both parties. Most often, Kenjaku eludes my sight. I will remain vigilant with this information in mind, but even I possess limitations.”

At the moment, this meant the last body in their working timeline under Kenjaku’s possession was still Yuji’s mother’s. There was no telling if Kenjaku switched bodies or how many could have been taken in the years between her disappearance and now. But as Yuji already said, at least they had a name.

That had to account for something.

“Thank you for telling us what you could.” Yuji bowed again, his fingers twitching at his sides. “If you don’t mind, Master Tengen, there’s something else I need to ask you.”

“You may ask.”

“The Prison Realm was used to seal my sensei, Gojo’s future self. Fa— Kenjaku sealed him inside it right before he started the Culling Game and we really need his help. Even if we get the box from Kenjaku, how are we supposed to open it? And if we can’t get back to our time, it wouldn’t hurt to know what to do just in case anything happens in your future, would it?”

Tengen fell silent, thinking over Yuji’s request over that damned box. It wasn’t even that hard of a question! 

“The Prison Realm… I see.” Sensing Satoru’s impatience Tengen targeted their question to him. “Do you know why Kenjaku would use such a thing to be rid of you?”

“Because he couldn’t make an attempt on my life?” Satoru echoed Choso’s previous explanation from two days prior. 

“In the past, Kenjaku had lost to sorcerers bearing the six eyes twice. Killing does not eradicate the technique, but sealing it away guarantees that another can’t be born with the ability as only one individual can possess the Six Eyes at a time.” Tengen raised their hand and created a small portal to reach inside and pull out a cube with only one eye sewn shut. “This is the back of the Prison Realm. The front would be the apparatus that was opened and closed to seal your future self and only the holder of the front may open and close the barrier. As of right now, the front’s whereabouts are unknown, and once again, I can only guess that it may be overseas.”

“Please tell me there is a way to crack this thing open.”

“There are two objects that have the ability to ‘crack this thing open.’” Two fingers were held out alongside Tengen’s answer. “The first would be the Inverted Spear of Heaven that nullifies cursed techniques which you destroyed last summer. The second would be the Black Rope which disrupts and cancels cursed technique effects.”

A bead of sweat rolled down Satoru’s neck as he felt Yuji burning a hole through his head with his eyes.

“You did what!?” The younger teenager’s jaw fell open in disbelief. “Why!? Why would you do that!?”

“Why would I— That thing almost killed me!” Satoru grew defensive, shouting back at Yuji in equal force. “What kind of idiot leaves one of their only weaknesses just lying around to be picked up and used against them a second time? I’ve played enough video games to know how stuff like this goes! And didn’t you hear Tengen? There’s a second option! Just track down this Black Rope and—”

“That is not so easy.” Before their argument could even begin, Tengen stopped Satoru’s line of thought. “From what I’ve been told, the art of weaving such an object takes several decades to see its completion. Additionally, using this tool wears itself away, making it difficult to maintain once made. Tracking down those who can weave it is easier than the wait you may face for it to be completed.”

Fu—

“Then, if the rope isn’t an option, is there nothing else that can be done?” Choso had raised his hand, not convinced by Tengen’s initial answer.

“Your best option would be to search among the Culling Game players. While one may have unlocked the ability you require through Kenjaku’s meddling, it is more likely that a specific individual has been incarnated instead. They refer to themselves as an angel.”

“Black Rope or go looking for an angel when we get back. It’s not a losing battle after all.” Uncertainty got in the way of Yuji’s attempt at positivity, but the next words slipped out regardless. “Can we actually go back?”

“The answer to that question is a complex one. We have been speaking as though your reality and the one we exist in are a set binary pair, one that may influence over the other in one direction without considering the opposite to be true.”

It was now Yaga’s turn to ask a question.

“Are you trying to say that whatever actions are taken here will affect the future that has already occurred?”

“Time is most often equated to a river. One that continuously flows in one direction with the past ever flowing into the present. In this model, one could theoretically travel upstream and redirect the course of the river, forever changing the path the water takes.”

“ Wouldn’t that cause a paradox?” Are they altering the future at risk of erasing themselves? Or is it something else? Satoru wished there was a wall or a pillar nearby so that he may bang his head against it in frustration. 

“If time acted in this manner, then a paradox would occur. But, seeing as how the pair continues to stand before us and reality has yet to tear at the seams, we are not dealing with a paradox.”

“So, we created a second timeline.” Yuji shot his hand up in the air. “Instead of changing the direction of the river, we just caused it to split in two?”

“You’ve just reestablished the binary.” Tengen’s response deflated Yuji’s enthusiasm.

“Let me guess, time is like a big ball of wibbly wobbly, timey wimey stuff.” With both hands, Satoru shaped a circle out of the air. 

“Not as nuanced as I would like, but you aren’t inherently wrong. Think of time more akin to an ocean. A large basin of water on an inconceivable scale. Like the ocean, time possesses layers, instances of events that all exist simultaneously while still retaining a certain level of distinction. In the case of your displacement, I believe the instability of your world churned the waters of time’s ocean, allowing certain layers to mix and blend, giving way to your appearance in our time. Eventually, the waters will settle and the layers will redefine themselves. Ideally, that self-correction would return you both to where you are meant to be as you are not compatible with this piece of history. When that happens and what it looks like are unknown to me.”

Tengen granted them a moment to take it all in, aware of the various levels of confusion present on their faces. What Satoru took from all that was that Yuji and Choso’s time in their lives was temporary, and that someday they may very well be spirited away back to their reality just as they appeared in this one. A bittersweet revelation. One that tugged at the teenager’s growing attachment to the younger beside him, despite knowing there were people waiting for him on the other side.

“We won’t be here forever. But we can’t just will ourselves back either.” Yuji bit his thumb, accepting Tengen’s explanation. 

“There is no telling what influence your time here will have on the reality you return to. Whatever change you may bring here could overlap with your own history, though I am left to wonder about such events that are predestined by fate to fit within this analogy, immune to such tampering. Then again, it was only recently that we witnessed the circumvention of fate due to the actions of Zenin Toji, so who can truly say? I will need to think on this matter further. Perhaps if your meddling prevents such tragedy that awaits our future from transpiring, I will have an answer in a century or so.”

Satoru fashioned a phone from his thumb and pinky finger to hold up to his ear.

“We’ll be sure to ring you up a hundred years to see if you changed your mind.” 

“Depending on how certain events play out, that possibility may very well occur.”

It took everything Satoru had not to snap back, gritting his teeth as he worked to conclude this meeting. 

“Are we good then? No more headache-inducing questions? From anyone?” The following silence answered for them. “Cool, then if we are good to go… Want to hand over that cube, and we can be on our way?”

“No.”

“Sorry, forgot my manners— Please?”

“It would be best that the back to the Prison Realm should remain here with me. It is unlikely to be lost or stolen from my domain. If it is needed, you will know where to retrieve it.” Tengen buried their hands in the sleeves of their robe, effectively closing the door on any chance to argue the contrary. 

“Alright.” He lifted his hands, making it clear he would not dive after it. Probably for the best, as keeping that thing around on his desk was just asking for nightmares. “Thank you for your time.”

Satoru bowed his head and wasted no time leaving that eyesore of a room. The three behind him followed closely, and if Yaga’s expression when they exited the other side of the tunnel was anything to do by, Satoru would have been torn a new one if the meeting hadn’t drained their energy away completely. There was a lot to think about. Some pieces were definitely taking longer to sink in than others and Satoru would be the first to admit that not everything Tengen shared made perfect sense. 

Once inside the elevator, the older teenager leaned back against the wall of the elevator, exhausted from all the metaphors, warnings, and speculation. All he came away with was that their situation was messier than he first thought. What happened to simple cause and effect?

God, this was such a pain.  

One that was hopefully worthwhile, but a pain nonetheless.

“You know what, sensei?” Yuji’s voice poked out over the sound of their ride’s ascension. “As complicated Tengen made it out to be, it doesn’t change anything. We’ve already decided to change the future and if that lets you experience a better outcome than where we came from, it’ll be worth it.”

Not a single ounce of concern for himself.

Typical.

“If Tengen’s theory is true about what we’re doing might somehow influence your time as well, then I hope something good awaits you when you both end up back home.”

“Me too.”

Chapter Text

Kenjaku.

The one who sealed his sensei. Unleashed a hoard of curses onto Tokyo. Awakened new sorcerers and incarnated powerful ones of old for a grandiose death match. 

Choso’s father. 

Yuji’s mother.

Their name was Kenjaku. 

The individual syllables grew heavy on Yuji’s tongue as he silently repeated the name back to himself. He did not like the way it sounded. The flow was all wrong. The taste in his mouth from saying it would leave him wishing for a glass of water to wash and spit it out with. Most disturbingly, having only heard the name only moments ago, said name was not unfamiliar to him. 

It was as if the memory of it had been etched into his being upon his birth. A signature that had long gone unseen, identifying Yuji as theirs in the intangible connection repeating their name would continue to enforce.

Yuji wondered if Choso felt the same, or if all the years cursing the name of the corpse Kenjaku had piloted for his creation left him torn between the two identities. Was Kamo Noritoshi an innocent party after all? Just another person on the growing list of victims trailing behind the true mastermind behind all their misfortune? Or was there enough to continue justifying the hatred that came whenever the name Kamo reached their ears? The association had already been made, but it was because they had nothing to go on before today.

Whenever they find themselves back in their proper time, Yuji took a mental note to find the Kamo Noritoshi he was more familiar with— the student from the Kyoto branch —and apologize for having to share a name that had been stolen, sullied, and discarded.

Kenjaku.

The knowledge of his mother’s true name was still undoubtedly a good thing, even if Yuji’s own chest mangled in and out of knots at the thought of it. There was power in knowing someone’s name, and not only in the awareness of how Kenjaku and he were connected. 

A proper name meant Yuji could curse it as he damn well pleased, ensuring all his animosity and frustration went to his intended target. It was for Kenjaku’s game that he was created. His life was planned from the start, purposely built for the day one of Sukuna’s fingers would cross his path. The choices Yuji made, while still his own, had been calculated by another far in advance and it was sickening.

What had kept the dreadful realization from taking over, however, was Yuji’s own belief that he and Choso had broken free from Kenjaku’s plans. Something as big as time travel, what Tengen had referred to as unprecedented, could not have been foreseen. Or rather, their own actions after being displaced, the damage they could cause, the changes that they made—All of it was unknown territory that could not have been possible before now. 

He had to believe that his decisions mattered. That the future was going to change.

Yuji was going to pay Kenjaku back for everything they’d done. Set the world straight. Undo all their work by tearing it down at the seams until there is nothing left to salvage. Surely, even if he were to disappear back to the future right now, the things he and Choso shared would have severe repercussions. His sensei knew about the prison realm and Geto knew about what happened to his body after death. That should already be enough for something good to come out of it.

And yet, there was doubt. 

A small seed, planted by the very name Yuji had been repeating.

Kenjaku.

Caution could not be avoided with them. There was still so much Yuji did not know—plans he did not have the grander imagination to conceive. He knew that, and it scared him. 

Master Tengen had only said so much. Perhaps he should have pressed for more, but considering everything else they had spoken about, the amount of information they left with was more than Yuji had hoped for. And while a second meeting may be worth requesting in the future so long as his sensei doesn’t keep provoking Master Tengen as he already had, there was still one other person Yuji could go to for insight on the opponent they were up against. 

‘You know them, don’t you?’

Yuji didn’t have to voice their name to the curse inside him. It should be obvious who he was referring to. 

However, the only noise Yuji received in response was that of his own footsteps keeping pace with the rest of the group as they departed from Master Tengen’s domain. He was lagging behind, and with no sixth sense to rely on when navigating the maze between Master Tengen and the exit, Yuji was forced to quicken his pace to catch up to Choso’s side. 

‘Come on, asshole. Answer me. They already spoke to you in Shibuya like you guys were friends, or at least a little chummy. And Kenjaku already admitted to bringing back other sorcerers from the past through the same method as you—They’re the one who sealed you. I’m right, aren’t I?’

Still nothing. 

Yuji waited a little longer before frowning, accepting that the curse had never been helpful, so why start now? He had no right to be disappointed by unrealistic expectations, but Yuji still grumbled his frustration under his breath. 

‘Of course you don't answer when I ask. God forbid I bother you for a change.’

Sukuna had been quiet all day, and most surprisingly, throughout the meeting with Master Tengen. While grateful to have a conversation so dense to go uninterrupted by unwelcome commentary, Yuji knew better than to assume Sukuna hadn’t been listening. 

“Sunlight! Oh, how I’ve missed you!”

Yuji lifted his head up, wincing at the afternoon sunlight pouring over the mountainside entrance to Tengen’s domain. His sensei was now leading the group, stepping out ahead of them to bask in the patch of sun cutting between the trees above their heads. A loud yawn followed as Gojo stretched his arms, reminding Yuji of his own exhaustion from what was in reality, still the beginning of his day.

“Well, all things considered, I’d say that went pretty good—”  

As Gojo was turning around to face the group, Yaga had already caught up to him with a balled fist about to slam down on the top of his student’s head. While not the first time Yuji witnessed his sensei be physically reprimanded for his actions, this was the first he saw Gojo use his technique to prevent contact from being made. The knuckles of Yaga’s fist pressed against an invisible barrier while his eyes met the smirk on Gojo’s face. 

“Satoru.”

“I said pretty good, not perfect.”

And whose fault would that be? Not that Yuji could claim superiority for keeping himself in check. If his own energy hadn’t been sapped from him upon entering the threshold to Tengen’s domain, perhaps he would have been pressing the old sorcerer harder as well. Choso had been diligent enough to assist in Yuji’s place, but they were lucky Tengen appeared to match Gojo jab for jab rather than retreat and leave them with nothing. 

Yaga looked at Gojo as if he had a million things to say, no response perfectly encapsulating his disappointment. The moment he had decided to begin what might have been a lecture pertaining to respect, the cell phone in his pocket rang out, catching everyone’s attention. 

The man stepped aside to answer the call privately, leaving the three to discuss whatever they wished between themselves.

Gojo wasted no time pointing out the positives.

“Hey, no need to look so… that.” His sensei twirled a finger around Yuji’s frown. “We came out with only good news! There’s an answer for our little Prison Realm problem and you two get to go home. Eventually. Could have been way worse with how these things typically go.”

“Typically? Master Tengen just spoke on how our situation is unprecedented.” Choso’s confusion led to Yuji speaking up to clarify what Gojo had meant. 

“Ignore him, he’s talking about how time travel can go in the movies and on TV.”

“Hey!” Gojo, expectedly, objected to his response. “Since when was my future student so mean?”

“I’m not trying to be mean! I’m trying to make everything less confusing. I only have so many brain cells and they are all working overtime to process everything Master Tengen was talking about. There’s so much we still don't know, and… it’s daunting.” There was a witty mark to be made on Yuji’s intelligence. The set-up was perfect, but the curse inside his head had not taken the bait. 

Bastard.

“Yeah, a bit of information overload back there, but we can take it one step at a time. You have answers for how to deal with freeing future me. And conveniently, there is nothing either of you has to do to return home, that’ll just sort itself out. So we can use whatever extra time we have together for you two to rest up while we learn what we can and plan our countermeasures!” 

A hand on his shoulder, another in front of Yuji’s face with a thumbs up on display, that was all it took to get a smile back on Yuji’s face. His sensei always had a way of making everything sound so easy. 

The loud click of Yaga shutting his phone had both teenagers’ ears twitching. Having concluded his business, the man walked back to the group, eyeing Gojo specifically with a rather flat look that still managed to convey a sense of wariness in what news he had brought with him.

“Yo, sensei. What’s up?”

“You’ve been assigned a new mission. A grade one cursed spirit in Nagasaki. You’re expected to be on the road within the hour.”

“Within the hour? Can’t you tell them I’m busy?”

The man shook his head. 

“With what, your studies?” That would have been a believable excuse for anyone but his sensei. At least, that was what Yuji had gleaned from the statement. It did not help that neither student nor teacher could tell the truth about the time travelers in their midst. The biggest challenge of these last three days had been keeping Yuji and Choso a secret, with now more than ever emphasizing the importance of that. 

“Fair. But I can’t leave them alone! They’re my responsibility. We both know Choso will be fine, but Yuji?” Gojo spun said teenager around so that he could grab his shoulders and place his pleading face next to Yuji’s. “He’d miss me.”

Yaga would not be swayed by his sensei’s curled lip and batting eyelash routine. 

“As long as they stay out of sight, it’ll be fine. Suguru is still on school grounds in case anything comes up, which I would hope won’t be the case.” 

“Yeah, but—”

“I’m not making Suguru take on the mission instead. You were specifically requested and as the head of the Gojo family, it would be in your best interest to take care of this.” While possessing very little understanding of the clan politics that shaped a good portion of the Jujutsu world, Yuji knew enough to know that there was a good reason for Yaga to bring them up. The rest of the world didn’t go on pause because of Yuji and Choso’s arrival, and the man’s next point would only reaffirm this. “I understand your reservations with everything that is going on right now, but we’re still sorcerers. Even if the world of the future is ending, we have to do our jobs in the present.”

Begrudgingly, Gojo accepted Yaga’s reasoning.

“I— Fine.”

“It’ll be ok, Sensei.” Yuji bent down to wiggle out of Gojo’s grip. Once freed, he gave his best salute to brush off any lingering concerns the best he could. The whole gesture was forced. He did not want Gojo to leave. He did not want to be selfish, nor did he wish to continue claiming every minute of the teenager’s time as he had been, but a part of him couldn’t help but see this as a proper separation in comparison to the other times Gojo would move out of sight. “We won’t cause any trouble. Promise.”

“You’re not the ones who I’m worried about.” His sensei didn’t linger on the thought for long, waving his hand quickly to be rid of it. “I’ll run ahead and get the mission over with. The sooner I leave, the sooner I get back.” 

He’ll be back. Exactly that. So why did Yuji feel so nervous?

About to break into a sprint, Gojo stumbled over his own feet as he stopped himself from traversing ahead down the winding mountain steps. 

“I have to ask—Did future me crack the code on teleportation yet? If yes, did he tell you anything? Perhaps rant on the subject about how cool and amazing he— I? —am for figuring it out?”

“Yes, he did.” A bead of sweat rolled down Yuji’s forehead as he saw Gojo’s smile widen, then subsequently fade with the follow-up, “No, he did not.”

“Damn. Guess there’s no cheating the system on this one.” The older teenager chuckled, scratching the back of his head as Yaga silently scolded him for taking the easy way out of what would be something he would inevitably obtain. 

About to run off once more, it was Yuji who reached out to stop him. His arm moved before his thoughts caught up, already aware of his growing distress. He kept his grip on Gojo’s jack still, hoping to prevent showing what his wavering voice was about to give away.

“Sensei, before you go,” Yuji replayed Master Tengen’s words, now more than ever aware of how nerve-wracking it is to have no definitive answer on when he and Choso would return home. Any moment could be their last. “In case we don’t get to see each other again—”

“Don’t even finish that thought.” His sensei cut Yuji off. He then turned to grab Yuji’s hand, holding it tight as one would before shaking hands. “I know what you’re thinking. But, I also know for a fact you’ll be here when I get back. Save your heartfelt goodbyes for the big dramatic climax right before you both beam back to where you belong.”

Gojo cupped his other hand over the entangled pair to give Yuji a hearty shake. 

“It’s not goodbye. It's see you later. Got it?”

“Uh, right!” Yuji pulled himself together, returning the gesture before letting go of Gojo’s hand. “See you later, Gojo-sensei!”

“I’ll be back before you know it.” 

And with one last nod to Choso over Yuji’s shoulder, Gojo waved a hand at the group and departed. 

The reassurance had not quelled the sickness in Yuji’s stomach, but it made their own walk down the hill just a bit more bearable. It may only be a symptom of his own anxieties, but it was in the returned silence that he began to feel just how wrong his presence in this world was. Something wasn’t right, or rather, Yuji knew he was an outsider, but that didn’t stop something deeper from rejecting his placement on this path, amongst these people, as anything but an intrusion. 

Coupled with how much was at stake to make his unnatural appearance mean something for the future this world had yet to experience, it did not take long for a sense of dizziness to flood his body. 

“Is it…” Yuji started out slowly, making sure the two with him could hear his lowered voice before continuing. “...alright if I lay down when we get back to the guest house? I assume that’s where we’re going…”

“Are you ok? Is something the matter?” Choso was quick to look him over, leaving Yuji flustered over his older brother’s antics.

“No. No! I’m fine! Still very tired. The sleep I got last night was just my body giving up and passing out.” It had been the same unfulfilling sleep he’d gotten the night before. And the nights before that. “I think I’ll try to get some proper rest once my head hits the pillow this time.”

“From what I’ve been told, you both need the rest,” Yaga commented while observing the pair. “Teenagers, more than anyone, require more sleep on average. It’s also the least disruptive activity you could be doing. Far be it from me to stop you.”

“Thank you.” After Choso gave his gratitude, he returned his focus to Yuji. “If you’re still so tired, do you wish to be carried the rest of the way?”

“That’s a little much! Choso, I’m good, really.”

“If you insist.”

The rest of their return trip felt quicker than their initial ascent had been. Yaga was kind enough to escort them the entire way back to the guest house, quick to point out the shortest route, so the pair wouldn’t be left to rely on guesswork. The last steps leading up the building were to be Yuji’s most formidable challenge. Having already tripped over his own feet getting to this point, Choso took it upon himself to lift him up from underneath without warning or permission and carry him the rest of the way to his bed. 

Yuji would have objected if his eyes weren’t already closed. The pillow his head had been carefully placed on only made him appreciate the gesture more than any feelings of embarrassment that had cropped up first. The line between the waking world to the one of dreams was so blurred that Yuji could not say how fast the transition had occurred. 

The musk of stale popcorn and faux leather upholstery assaulted Yuji’s nose. He pulled away from the source, craning his neck only for an unbearably bright light to blind his eyes which have yet to even open. As Yuji winced, his head hit the back of something soft, yet firm— He was sitting up. In a chair by the feel of it. Quick to flex his fingers while still adjusting to the light, Yuji caught the smooth plastic edge of empty bowls affixed to the ends of its armrests. 

What?

Pins and needles covered his feet, threatening to climb up his legs before he moved them too. Nothing was chaining him to this spot, but he was hesitant to move, still too unaware of what lay just out of his sense’s reach. 

Static filled the air around his ears. A white noise, the name of which remained on the tip of Yuji’s tongue as he dragged his mind into the scene. Lethargy had consumed him, adamantly protesting that he retreat back into unconsciousness as if already aware of a danger lurking out of sight.

Yuji pressed on. 

When he finally pried his eyes open, they were met with a large white screen. Too grand for any normal room, stretching from one corner to the other, the imposing height of it towered over Yuji’s head. His neck strained at being tilted so far back in an attempt to view the screen in its entirety, but as the seconds ticked by, nothing would appear on the display.

A painful sense of nostalgia kicked in as Yuji registered where he was, or rather, what type of room he was in —A movie theater. But which one? 

The average person would likely say all theaters were practically the same. In the dark lighting with nothing more than the spots at the edges of the carpeted paths to guide moviegoers, it would be an easy thing to conclude, even if it was wrong. Ignoring the differences in what movies were being shown and when, the number of rows, density of the seating, the size of the room and screen, all of it was different. 

And this one? What made this one stand out from the rest?

Yuji sucked in a breath, holding it in even as his lungs threatened to choke on it. The air went sour. Putrid. Decomposition released a nasty smell, far more pungent than the simple spilling of blood.

He had visited this theater only one time before, during a mission in Kawasaki. 

From his seat on the lower level, Yuji flickered his eyes left and right, heads of black and blond hair flashed across the corners of his vision, phantoms of the past, beckoning him to search harder for anyone to be seated close by. But no matter how much he swiveled around in place, not a single body, alive or dead, was beside him.

Questions of how and why went unasked, because as soon as Yuji took it upon himself to stand on his wavering legs, a bored and loathsome voice spoke across the theater.

“The sheer amount of blind faith you possess is astounding.”

Yuji bit down on his tongue, threatening to make it bleed, aware of how easy it was for the cursed spirit to rile a response out of him. Instead, he finished coming to his feet, straightening his back so that he stood tall in defiance of the one sitting so drastically over his head. 

Sukuna had chosen the highest row of seats, naturally placing himself in the center. Legs crossed and arms spread out across the backs of the seats on either side of him, he appeared far too comfortable lounging in the last place Yuji would ever believe to find him in. Above the curse was the projection booth, the light of which stung the teenager’s eyes. That would not stop him from noting the difference in stature, the mild addition of height, and the additional set of arms underneath his own. A hybrid of Yuji's form and that of another the teenager had only ever been told of. 

Yuji would not squint or show any sign of recoil. Not in Sukuna’s direction.

The two locked eyes. Their intensity grew disproportionately, with Yuji doing everything he could to remain in control of the outburst clawing its way up his throat. His muscles itched to begin their second round, his blood pumping in preparation. But Yuji held steady.

He was thankful for the tattooed markings on Sukuna’s face. They hid his reflection underneath. They made it easier to face himself when standing in front of a mirror.

“You cling to the words of that Tengen so easily, treating it as fact when what was left unspoken was far more telling. I will say this, however, out of all the things Tengen spoke of, the confusion of how this little excursion into the past is possible was genuine.”

Yuji remained silent. It was all he could do besides climbing up there to answer with his fists. The curse was playing his games, twisting words and spinning threads of doubt like he always had and Yuji wanted no part in it.

“Nothing to say? But you were so adamant on speaking to me before, weren’t you? Brat.”

Yet, each word that came out had been designed to poke and prod him in just the right way.

“Do you think you know something I don’t?” 

“We both know I do. I had thought that was obvious, but it seems I overestimated you.”

Yuji’s jaw throbbed at the pressure he was putting on it, his teeth aching for release as he bared his fangs. He was fed up with the insults. 

“Get to the point or let me sleep in peace. I’m sick of you.”

“The feeling is mutual, but we have matters to discuss.”

“If it’s not about Kenjaku, you fuck off and go to hell!” Yuji’s patience was thinning, fast. This was by no means the best way to go about demanding Sukuna answer his previous assumption with any kind of confirmation if Yuji was on the right track in his thinking. This way, however, was the most direct.

“Such a one-track mind...” The curse leaned on his hand, apathetic to Yuji’s plight. “I will clarify our relationship, only because your prior suggestion repulsed me. The brain you speak of is no friend of mine for I hold no value in such things. They already fulfilled their vow to me by orchestrating my return, thus whatever goal they possess beyond that is unknown to me, or have you forgotten I’ve been sealed for a millennium?”

“Is that actually true? Because somehow, I don’t believe you’re the type of guy to just accept being chopped up to pieces hoping to be brought back. I doubt Kenjaku is the type to do charity work either, so there had to be something gained bringing you back.” Yuji studied Sukuna’s face as best he could, hoping to glean a reaction. He settled on the curse leaning back in his chair, as if enjoying the show Yuji was putting on with his deduction. “Kenjaku wanted you to take part in the culling game, but that’s too easy of an explanation.”

“Who knows? As I said, I’ve not been privy to anything beyond myself, which is bad news for you, given that you have no understanding of how widespread their web of manipulation has been spun.”

“Oh, I have a pretty good idea.” 

That was the problem. Yuji was brutally aware of the odds still rising against him. The daunting reality of what they were up against. His saving grace was that his sensei had believed him. Geto had believed him. Yaga too— That had to mean something. At the very least even those odds. 

“I’m sure you do.”

“You know what—!” 

Yuji’s anger got the better of him, unable to sit there and listen to Sukuna belittle him over and over. Each snide remark, each one just as demeaning as the last chipped away at the already crumbling image of himself he’d been working hard to preserve. Enraged, Yuji pulled the seat down with his foot and hoisted himself upwards, his other foot able to find a footing on the backing as he prepared to climb over the rows of seats that would not keep him and Sukuna apart for long. 

He wanted— he craved the curse’s neck between his hands. 

As Yuji lunged from one seat to the next, the floor— No, the world itself —was pulled out from underneath him. The scene shifted in a blur, and suddenly Yuji was thrust into the air with nothing to break his fall as he landed into the deep red abyss below. 

His back collided with the water first, creating a wave of water up to cover what little spots of him had remained dry after the immediate fall. Spitting water from his mouth, Yuji rang out what he could from his hair before rubbing his eyes dry, cursing profanities loudly as he sought where Sukuna had gone. He ignored how sore the impact had made his backside, worried more for the back of his head than anything else, praying the pain shooting through his skull wouldn’t transfer to his physical body in the morning.

In the theater no longer, the teenager now stood in the center of Sukuna’s domain. 

Yuji did not have to put in the effort to search to discover Sukuna had not changed his position relative to Yuji’s. Instead of the upper rows of the theater, the curse was now seated on his macabre throne of bone and ego. Where the theater recliner had looked wholly unfitting, this throne was far more suitable, adding to the pressure building in the domain that had Yuji fighting vigorously to remain standing, lest he be forced to kneel in front of the very center of his ire. 

A glance above to find the source of these invisible hands pressing down on him only revealed the nightmarish rib cage above. The boney archway that extended out of sight in either direction, defining the edges of this space when he could feel that it was far grander, that he was far smaller when residing within it.

That feeling did not hinder Yuji as he forced his feet into action, trudging toward the base of Sukuna’s throne as fast as he could through ankle-deep waters. He would continue to press forward, stopped only when the curse lowered his eyes and spoke up once more.

“I’m curious,” Sukuna began, the red glow emanating from the water served to cast more shadows than it did to illuminate the space they shared. “With time as muddled as it is now, are you content with continuing this path you’ve chosen despite it all? The strong possibility of putting your home in jeopardy for theirs. To trade countless lives between past and future. What a noble sacrifice that must be.”

“Never claimed it to be noble. It’s the best thing I can do. If I can make it so that at least one future can avoid the shit show we came from, then it’s worth it! All those cursed spirits, all that destruction, all those people massacred, it’s so fucked up! None of that should have happened!” The fallout alone… “Nothing will ever be the same after that. All chances of a normal life had been stolen all for the sake of some stupid game! No one will be able to go back to how things were. Not unless I do something.”

“Your talk of normal… What you are defining as normal is that pocket of calm you were born in before the inevitable storm. You barely tasted anything else, refusing to give the world a chance to return to what my previous life had been accustomed to. Are you saying your precious normality has precedence over mine?”

“The Heian era.” Yuji sucked in a breath, hearkened back to the last words Kenjaku called out to Sukuna before they departed. Not fully able to grasp what it meant to bring back an era once lost, Yuji had originally believed it was in reference to the sorcerers and curses unleashed from centuries past. But now, the true meaning took shape in a more general sense when in contrast to the world Yuji grew up in.

Kenjaku wished for chaos, born from the rampage of unfettered power. To bring the Heian era to the present…

“Peace is stagnating.” Sukuna rose from his throne with three of his arms still tucked within his kimono. The fourth of the bunch remained in the air, finger pointing in whichever way he wished, directing the curse’s lecture in tandem with his words. “Worse still, it is predictable. There is no longer challenge, no need to clamor for one’s place in the world. Nothing will change because the fools who indulge in peace believe themselves to no longer require it. Disruption and chaos are what drives the world, what propels one era to the next. To deny it is to deny the very nature of this world—That is what you are doing. A vessel to a being greater than yourself dares to stand in the wake of the universe and proclaim what is right. Who are you to decide that?”

Who was he…?

Yuji never claimed to be anything more than himself. There was no inborn sense of superiority. All he wanted was a chance to save those he cared about and by extension, their loved ones as well. He alone wasn’t anyone special, but since the opportunity had presented itself, was it so wrong to take it?

What was Sukuna’s aim here? Yuji could feel his resolve shuddering underneath the crushing weight of the curse’s stare, but that did not mean it would break. He would continue to hold his ground. 

“You’ve done nothing but make me second-guess myself. You were wrong before, about their reaction to our history. You’re going to be wrong about Geto-san and you’re going to be wrong about ever bringing all these doubts up in the first place! I’ve said it once, and I’ll say it a thousand more times until I beat it into you—I’m using this chance to fix everything. And while you may not agree with me on how I’m doing that or for what reasons, Kenjaku and whatever they have planned can only make things worse if nothing is done to stop it!” 

“As if you’re immune to making the same errors only with differing intent?”

“There you go again! Talking! All you ever do is talk—”

Yuji eyes hadn’t registered that Sukuna had risen from his throne, let alone moved to confront the teenager head-on until the act had come to its conclusion. Too fast to follow, what had come first was the sudden hand clamped around Yuji’s neck. Unable to speak with his airways cut off, Yuji could only sputter and choke on the pressure. Black, sharpened claws easily pierced the skin, threatening for his hands to remain at his sides as the curse released his grip just enough to allow the shortest of breaths through. 

“Is that all I do? Talk?” Sukuna purred, raking his fingers through Yuji’s hair with the intent to pull it back and expose his neck further. “I don’t speak without reason, brat.”

With the shrinking airway Sukuna had granted him, Yuji could only whisper.

“Fuck off, Sukuna—!”

The curse squeezed tight, crushing something— snapping something —before dropping him completely. Both hands had released him simultaneously, the disappointing clicking of lips could be made out amongst Yuji’s desperate gasps for air. 

“If you’re willing to go this far as penance for my actions in Shibuya, how will you handle the destruction that will surely come from your meddling?” The curse laughed. That horrid mocking laugh. Boisterous and unrelenting, Sukuna came close to gripping his sides as he let himself toss his head back in spiteful enjoyment. All the while, Yuji continued his struggle to stand, his cough doing more harm than good. “I wonder if you’ll finally snap? If that will of yours can handle it? Because if you can’t face the consequences of your own actions…”

His laughter stopped.

The domain went eerily silent. Not a creek of bone nor splash of water to be heard.

Sukuna stood still, all four eyes pointed down at his vessel with all the disdain the world could ever need.

“Someone else will.”

With one simple stroke, Sukuna slashed a finger along the air, painting an invisible blade into being to slice the skin across Yuji’s neck. The cut went deeper than Yuji had expected, but it was so fine that he only felt its presence by the line of hot liquid pooling at the surface of his skin. It was only when the sticky substance bled out across his hand with no signs of stopping did Yuji accept whatever effort he made was futile. Not when pulling away made the blood on his hands visible, the final thing he witnessed before his body stumbled back and his vision faded into darkness.

Yuji awoke to the sensation of falling.

The incomplete movement of his dream subjected his body to finish the motion, preparing for an impact that would never come as he was already lying in bed.

Both hands grasped for his neck, rubbing at the skin just below his Adam’s apple to find nothing awaiting him. He pulled them both back to assess the skin to be sure, unconvinced by the sensations he was feeling, requiring his eyes to confirm that his hands were clean without a trace of red to be found. 

The first time Sukuna and he spoke to one another, Yuji would have easily accepted it as a nightmare induced by his fatigued mind. But the second one? There was no denying it had happened. That he and Sukuna spoke. That both dreams felt just as real as anything he was experiencing while awake. 

Yuji rubbed his hand around his neck, finding sweat dripping down just behind his ear.

Sukuna was just fucking with him. Psyching him out, setting him up to fail— The curse would never lend him a hand that didn’t turn around and smacked him for the audacity to ask him for anything! Yeah, that’s it. He had probably returned to laughing his ass off in Yuji’s absence.

Bastard.

Refusing to waste another moment on the curse, Yuji directed his attention to the present, well aware of the morning sun breaking through his bedroom window. His door was cracked open, and the whirring sound of the microwave alongside what must be conversation meant that he hadn’t been left alone. There were two people in the kitchen, and upon acknowledging the overwhelming energy stemming from that direction, there were very few people such power could belong to.

Yuji jumped out of bed, almost tripping over his covers as he rushed out the door and down the hall, coming to a stop at what awaited him. 

To his disappointment, it was not his sensei sitting at the kitchen table, but his classmate, Geto. Now that Yuji was closer and his mind was more awake to perceive it, the difference in the way their cursed energy felt would have alerted him of this sooner. Geto sat at the table, leaning against the back of his chair while Choso stood in front of the microwave in anticipation of whatever was being cooked inside.

An odd pair to come across, especially when Yuji understood that Geto wasn't nearly as friendly or accepting of his older brother as his sensei was. Maybe that changed? Or were they just shoving it all aside now that he’d woken up?

“Good morning, Itadori. Your timing is impeccable.” On cue, the microwave let out a series of beeps after Geto greeted him. 

Yuji reciprocated the peasantry as Choso retrieved a bowl from the microwave. The familiar packaging led to identifying it right away, with the flavor packet being stirred only boosting his confidence.

“Ramen? For breakfast?” The younger teenager claimed a seat for himself, both grateful and confused by Choso preparing something for him. Having skipped a proper lunch or dinner yesterday, Yuji’s stomach was eager to dive in for anything. 

“The least amount of risk was involved in making it…” Choso looked away, a bit ashamed of what he said. Yuji had found it endearing more than anything else. “You don’t have to eat if it’s not to your liking—”

“Iffs gud!” The noodles stuffed in Yuji’s mouth did nothing for annunciation, but he hoped the big swallow smile would clear things up as he continued to inhale more food. “Fank u!”  

He slurped up what remained all too quickly, leaving the bowl of broth to sit for a moment as he looked up at the older teenager across from him.

“So… Where’s Gojo-sensei?”

“He told me he texted you, but seeing how you just woke up—Satoru is still out. His mission is taking longer than expected. And before you get concerned, it’s not the cursed spirit causing him issues.” Geto wasn’t thrilled with the development, directing his annoyed glance at his phone, as if it could relay it to Gojo himself. 

“Oh. That makes sense. Yaga mentioned something about clan stuff too. Nothing can ever be easy.” Before Yuji grabbed the edges of his bowl, he turned his attention to Choso. “You’re making a bowl for yourself, right?”

“I don’t require—” 

Yuji scrunched his eyebrows and Choso let out a sigh.

“I will make some more.” His older brother backed down on the matter, raising a hand in surrender before sifting through the cupboard for another bowl to begin filling with water. With nothing else to do while Choso prepared his own breakfast, Yuji downed the rest of his broth and rested his eyes, struggling to stay fully awake, hoping a cold shower will be the remedy he needed.

From the bags under Geto’s eyes, Yuji wondered if he needed a cold shower too.

“Geto-san, are you…” Yuji closed his mouth and hummed, not sure if he should bring it up, but it was already too late, seeing as how he got the older teenager’s attention. “You look tired.”

Geto peeled his widened eyes from his phone, releasing a chuckle before responding with, “I’m always tired. Sleeping doesn’t exactly come easy.”

Wasn’t that the truth? Yuji felt like he was to blame for that, given everything he’d disclosed to him so far. All he had was bad news to share as far as Geto’s future was concerned, even if he was optimistic about changing it.

“Sorry.”

“It’s not your— Don’t apologize. I’ve been awake for more hours than I’d like for some time now.”

“Oh. Well, I’m still sorry. I didn’t have any issues sleeping until recently. It’s like, your head just keeps going even though it’s time to sleep, and then you just lay there until your body shuts off. And even then, that forced sleep you get isn’t even halfway decent. You know?”

Geto gave a small, but sympathetic smile.

“I know.”

“I hope it gets better.”

“Likewise.”

Choso turned on the microwave again, filling the newfound silence firmly between them. Too awkward of a way to end their talk, especially as it seemed Geto would not be leaving them to their own devices anytime soon, the older teenager pressed on with a new topic. 

“How was your meeting with Master Tengen? Satoru didn’t give you too much trouble, did he?”

“It wasn’t bad. Sensei was… Sensei.” That statement, as simple as it was, told Geto everything he needed to know about how his friend had acted. There was no surprise in it.

“What is the verdict? Have you found a way to return to your future?”

“Uh, well, time is like an ocean? And once it settles we return to our time-reality thing—The vocabulary confuses me, but we can go home!” Yuji proclaimed before peddling back his excitement. “ Eventually. Don’t know when.” 

His brother gave him a nod, supporting his explanation.

“Mater Tengen had no concrete insight as to how we ended up here in the first place, only concluding that the disturbance which brought us here would resolve on its own terms. We can only wait to determine when.”

“That must be… I was going to say relieving, but the uncertainty of it must be frustrating.” Geto shifted in his chair. “Still, good news is good news I suppose.”

“And there’s more good news!” This time, Yuji couldn’t contain himself. He flew to his feet, grabbing the table for balance as he leaned over to share. “We can actually free Future Sensei after all! There are two ways we can try out too. Master Tengen mentioned this Black Rope found overseas that can disrupt cursed techniques, and if we can’t get a hold of that, there is another incarnated sorcerer called Angel who might be able to help us too!”

He could hardly stop himself from bouncing on the balls of his feet. Geto shared in some of his excitement, displaying that relief he’d mentioned now that there was some hope for fixing what they previously considered beyond their influence. 

“That’s—Future Satoru, actually, both current and Future Satoru better appreciate you.”

Yuji blushed as he scratched the side of his head. He had something to say to that, but the words were lost before he could open his mouth.

The last round of beeps for the morning signaled that Choso would be joining them at the table, though his brother would neglect his food for a moment in favor of speaking.

“For the sake of clarity, our meeting also yielded us knowledge of our shared parent’s identity. Their name is Kenjaku, and they’ve been around longer than even I had anticipated. Master Tengen cannot track them down, so our ability to know where they are and what they are up to now is practically nonexistent.”

The positive tone in the room plummeted at the mention of their name. It couldn’t be helped, experience both in the past and what might still be—The name was daunting. A beacon for anger. A recipe for fueling an outburst that would not come.

Geto thought on the name, taking it in as both Yuji and Choso had before him. Then another question came out, directed at Yuji.

“Do you think your grandfather would know anything about them, given your familial connection?”

“My grandfather?” Yuji repeated, his once-forgotten memory coming back to haunt him. 

As vague as the event had been, he remembered the old man had nothing but concern over his daughter-in-law, fear for his son. A more recent memory had Yuji returning to his grandfather’s bedside, dismissing the old man’s plea to tell him about the parents he once showed no interest in learning about. Wasuke had believed that to be important enough to share before he passed, yet Yuji had stopped him, unwilling to believe the old man was going to leave him so soon. 

His grandfather would be alive right now, wouldn’t he? Still in Sendai, raising a grandchild he got stuck with after his parents disappeared. The thought of visiting him now brought more emotions than he’d expected. Overwhelmed by what he had the chance to say, how his grandfather could possibly react— It had already been hard enough with the brothers he never knew. 

A hand— Choso’s hand —rested over Yuji’s, bringing him back to the kitchen table. He says nothing. He doesn’t have to. 

 “My grandfather… was going to tell me about them before he died.” Yuji slumped back into his seat. “I didn’t think much of it until now. There’s a chance he might know something. It could be nothing, but something is worth checking out.”

“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to, but I assumed if anyone were to question him on this matter, you’d like to be there.” Geto let out a sigh. “Since your time here is finite, the sooner such things are done, the better. If you wish to go, I’ll discuss with Yaga about getting permission to travel.”

“Thank you, Geto-san. I’ll give it some thought.”

Despite their rocky start, Yuji’s opinion of Geto had changed considerably. He may only be here because his sensei couldn’t, but he wasn’t as cold or abrasive as when they first brought Yuji and Choso to their campus. He wasn’t forcing anything on Yuji either, even if Geto’s own willingness to keep searching for more answers was poking through. 

If Yuji had been told about someone using his body to seal away one of his friends, he’d want to learn everything he can to prevent it too. Would it be worth telling his grandfather about what Yuji was created for? Could they stop his past self from consuming any fingers this time around?

“Try as you might, but you can’t get rid of me so easily. We were destined for each other, you and I. Vessel and host. It’s what you were created for.”

Sukuna believed that fate overruled anything Yuji could attempt. Yuji would disagree. His creation was to house the King of Curses, sure, but maybe there should have been time put in making sure he was willing to go along with something so stupid. It was that design flaw Yuji would take advantage of and prove both his creator and curse wrong.

“Alright. That should conclude my obligatory check-in. If neither of you plans to leave this building, then—” Geto stopped off as his phone buzzed in his hand, catching his attention with a new message on the screen. “Or maybe not.”

“Is something wrong?”

“No, it’s…” Geto covered his grin with his hand, “Haibara messaged me with a request to see if you wanted to join him and Nanami for morning exercises on the track. Also, to know if you’re feeling better.”

Morning exercises sounded normal. It would be better than sitting around all day, and there was only so much movement he could do up and down these halls. 

“Yes! I mean, if that’s ok with you, Geto-san.”

The older teenager shrugged his free arm. 

“I wouldn’t have passed along the message if it wasn't. This just means I’ll be staying around a bit longer to bring you over. Get ready quickly so we can go. Is the cur—your older brother coming too?”

“Is that really a question?” 

Yuji took the exchange as a positive one and excused himself from the table to get himself ready while Choso finished eating. A second set of clothes had been laid out for him overnight, with only his hoodie transferring from one outfit to the next once he got out of the shower. He didn’t let himself linger under the water for long, keeping his mind focused on the day ahead. 

Geto was already at the front door when he came out. Choso had cleaned up the kitchen and was about to check on him as Yuji spun around the corner, leaving the two to dance around each other to avoid an impact.

On the way to the track, Yuji turned on the cell phone he had been gifted. He’d missed the text from Gojo earlier. Or rather, ’ Favorite Sensei’ as his contact was listed.

[Favorite Sensei] 

Hey! Bad news, I’m being held up longer than I thought. Should be back by tonight! Don’t let Suguru be a killjoy while I’m gone, ok? And I definitely forgot to tell you something yesterday. Still can’t remember what it was, but I’ll text you when I figure it out.

[Yuji]

I believe in you. I’ll do my best in the meantime! Stay safe on your end. Heading to the track to hang out with the second-years now.

Yuji found the update acceptable enough. He pocketed his phone and picked the pace, keeping up with the two getting further ahead of him. Anything related to Sukuna could wait until Gojo got back from his mission.

“Yuji-kun! Choso-san!”

When the track was finally in view, Haibara stood on his toes to wave at the three newcomers that would be joining him. To his right, Nanami was stretching his arms over his chest, taking the activity far more seriously than his classmate. 

Yuji coughed, covering up the giggle in his throat at the sight of them. Nanami, in particular, forced him to look away, as he wasn’t prepared to see his mentor as a teenager in a tracksuit. The flat haircut lacking in the usual brushed-back look he’d seen him with even further removed Nanami from the image Yuji had of him. He supposed everyone had a phase around this time in their life.

“Haibara-senpai!” Yuji called back to him, waving good morning as he dashed past his companions. “Thank you for inviting us.”

“No problem! Glad to see you’re up. Choso-san said you passed out yesterday after Gojo-senpai’s visit. Hope you’re not coming down with anything.”

“Anyone would need to rest after spending that much time with him.” Haibara laughed at Nanami’s comment, leading to Yuji awkwardly joining in as he thought about how similar this felt to before everything went sideways. “Where is he anyway?”

“Gojo-sens— senpai is on a mission.”

“We probably won’t see him for the next week if we’re lucky.” Yuji hoped Nanami was joking. “Are you sure you’re up for this? You don’t have to go along with Haibara’s whims if you don’t want to.”

“Thanks for the out, but I’m all good!” Yuji united his fist against his open palm. “Whatever you have planned, I am ready for it!” 

“That’s the spirit! Stretch first, then get ready for your Senpai’s awesome idea.”

A race between sorcerers. 

That was what Haibara suggested, arms in the air full of energy, with no one able to match him even as Yuji tried his best to do so. 

Nanami sighed. 

Geto groaned. 

Choso tilted his head in confusion at the watch he’d been given to time them.

“I’m only here for supervision.” Geto attempted to use reason to make his mistake. “I’m not even dressed for running, so you three have fun—”

But it did not work. Haibara had already grabbed hold of his arm and looked up at his senpai as he begged him to stay. 

“But our normal uniforms are made with physical activity in mind! Come on, Geto-senpai! Just two laps around the track!”

“Two!?”

“Warm up jog to get started, and then a race to see who’s the fastest.” Haibara held up a peace sign, doubling as the number two he was referencing. “It’s more fun with more people involved. You can sit down after.”

“You’re getting pushier.” Geto freed his hand, now poking at Haibara’s intentions. “This better not be so you can show off.”

Show off?  

“What? No. Never!”  

“Uh, huh. I— Let’s get this over with.”

The accusatory glances from both Geto and Nanami made Yuji feel like he was missing out, but considering they were just about to start, he wouldn’t be out of the loop for long. But on the topic of showing off, Yuji took his own physical strength and stamina into consideration, wondering if he should go all out or hang back and pretend he’s nothing special for the sake of appearances. He kind of wanted to show off in front of Nanami, but maybe that wasn’t a good idea.

Yuji settled on figuring it out when the second lap began.

Each student took a line on the track for themselves with one empty space between them. Nanami was closest to the center, followed by Haibara, then Yuji, then Geto on the outer edge. Haibara had pointed out which button Choso needed to click as he stood by their starting position, a hand raised in the air in preparation to announce to begin. 

“Go.”

The command was short and to the point, said the moment Choso thrust his hand downward.

For the most part, they kept pace with one another rather well. Yuji had to purposefully slow himself down during the first lap, breaking from formation more than once all too easily. It had been a long time since he ran for the sake of it rather toward or away from an enemy. He took in the wind against his hair and the sun hitting the back of his neck like the blessings they were, letting his prior anxieties disappear even if only for a moment.

Then he heard Haibara slap himself with both his hands, psyching himself up as they geared to pass the starting line. 

A couple more steps—

And Yuji took off easily picking up speed with little toll on his body. He could leave the rest of them in the dust if he wanted, almost chose to, but suddenly, Haibara’s speed picked up immensely. 

The second-year had caught up to him. 

No, he passed him. Then easily put several meters between them, with the distance growing as they made the third turn.

What!?

Yuji increased his speed, breathing fast and steady as he worked to catch up with Haibara, trying to figure out how the second-year was so fast. Was Haibara like Maki? She had been the only one who could compete with his strength properly, but that would mean he’d have to have no cursed energy.

But Haibara had cursed energy, Yuji could feel it!

The pair crossed the finish line about the same time, unsure who made it first, both taking a moment to catch their breath before turning to Choso for an answer. 

“It was close, but Haibara came in first.”

“Wow! You really had me worried there, Yuji-kun!” Haibara heaved, hands on his knees as he looked up at the younger teenager standing next to him. “Seriously, you’re fast! Wasn’t expecting that at all!”

“Yeah. I’m, uh, gifted.” Yuji peered closer at the second-year, noticing now that his energy was stronger than before. More intense. What did Haibara do? “Did you… use a cursed technique to win?”

Was that cheating?

“Oooh, and perceptive too. But that’s to be expected.” 

“I’m right. Is it some kind of speed boost technique?”

“Nope!”

“Then what—?” Yuji was stopped by the hand shoved in his face. 

“High-five.” 

Getting more confused by the second, Yuji fulfilled the questionable request. Once contact was made, a wave of something spread throughout his body. It wasn’t cursed energy, rather; it was the feeling of everything feeling lighter than it had been before. No longer under the strain of exhaustion or lack of proper sleep, any movement he made lacked any consequence. Not even his fingers felt a strain from opening and closing them rapidly—But as soon as he thought to test this feeling further, the strange sensation came to an end as Haibara collapsed onto the ground.

“Haibara-senpai!”

“Idiot!” Nanami shouted over his shoulder as both he and Geto caught up to them. “It’s not even halfway through the day and you overdo it!”

“Overdo what?” Yuji’s eyes moved between them, trying to put together what was going on. 

“My technique,” Haibara groaned, reaching out a hand for Yuji to pull him up. “It doesn’t like multiple activations in a row, but I couldn’t resist showing off a little bit.”

“Haibara’s cursed technique is called Invigorate. It doesn’t make one stronger or faster, but instead cuts down the amount of effort a person needs to accomplish physical tasks tenfold.” Geto explained, hands on his hips as he glared at the second-year for pushing himself too far. “This rule can apply to other cursed techniques and the amount of energy spent to use them, but it doesn’t apply to itself.” 

“It ends when I lose concentration on it, which is why it stopped when I fell over. Sorry, Yuji-kun, I wanted you to be able to try doing something with it, but I wasn’t thinking it through.” The apology was easily forgiven by Yuji, but Nanami wasn’t done scolding his classmate.

“I keep telling you that you need to be more mindful of how often you use it. If this were a mission—” 

“—I’d have made myself open for an attack! But it’s not a mission, we’re just having fun.”

“Watching you pass out isn’t fun.” Nanami stood up, arms crossed, unwilling to share in Haibara’s smile. “You should see Shoko and make sure you haven’t done anything to yourself.”

“She’ll kill me if I show up at the nurse’s office again—” His classmate’s intense glare did not falter, leaving Haibara no choice but to listen. “—I’m sure I’m fine, but if it makes you feel better.”

Haibara’s reluctance didn’t last long, however, as a metaphorical light bulb appeared to have turned on over his head. The second-year snapped his finger before grabbing Yuji’s hand.

“Yuji-kun can escort me there, you know, to make sure I don’t pass out again.” He then quickly added, “If we all went, we’d just overwhelm the small office space. You guys can stay here and have fun your way, and we’ll be right back!”

There was no wait for Yuji’s answer. In fact, Yuji was convinced Haibara was just fine due to the amount of strength he was using to drag the younger teenager behind him. In Haibara’s defense, Yuji didn’t put up much of a fight either in the spirit of making sure he got to the nurse’s office in one piece. Choso didn’t follow after him, so he could only imagine what the other three were up to while he and Haibara made their way across campus.

Eventually, Haibara needed to stop and catch his breath again. 

His knees were shaking, and with how worried his classmates were before, Yuji couldn’t help but be concerned. 

“Are you alright, Haibara-senpai?”

A deep intake of air, and Haibara was standing up again, looking up to see just how far they’d walked. 

“You almost called him sensei.”

Eh? Haibara had noticed him slip!?

“W-Who? Gojo? N-No I didn’t—” Yuji stuttered over his denial, though it would not do any good.

“And the way Geto-senpai’s face scrunched up when you did… I couldn’t believe it either.” Haibara snorted, grabbing hold of Yuji’s shoulder to anchor himself. “I didn’t think he’d be someone who’d go into teaching, but the way you look at him, you aren’t lying.”

“H-How do you know about all this?” 

“Gojo-senpai and Geto-senpai told me, but I guess they didn’t get around to telling you just yet.” No, they hadn’t.

“I’m sorry for not telling the truth sooner, Haibara-san.”

“Senpai! I have a hunch you’re still a first-year in the future, and since I’m a second-year, I’m still your Senpai!” The second-year was persistent on this, leaving Yuji no choice but to listen. “I… I can’t believe you’re from the future. Well, I can, ‘cause you wouldn’t be here otherwise. And my Senpai’s were so serious about everything when they explained everything to me.”

“What did they tell you? Specifically?” A lump formed in Yuji’s throat. He couldn’t discern what it was, but it made him feel uneasy. Not knowing what they shared made him feel vulnerable, as odd as it sounded. 

“Let’s see. Gojo-senpai explained that you and your older brother are here to save our future.” A smirk spread on Haibara’s face, only serving to make Yuji gulp in anticipation. “And Geto-senpai happened to mention that Nanami is your dad, which would make me like, your uncle or something!”

“Uh, um, I—” The confidence radiating off of Haibara’s answer had blinded him, distracted him, and screwed with Yuji’s response. Had the temperature rose in the last few seconds? “I think Geto-san misheard me. He’s not my dad-dad, just like, the closest thing to a father figure—But I never told him so he… probably never thought that way back.”

“Nah, he definitely knew.” Haibara hadn’t skipped a beat.

“Y-Y—”

Yuji froze, so sure his heart had stopped, and his brain was operating on borrowed time. He tried to say something in response, a thought that couldn’t fully form as he stood there with his mouth half open.

“I know Nanami better than anyone. He’s pretty good about reading people, so he definitely figured it out long before you felt the need to tell him.”

“Y-You can’t just say that…” 

Yuji’s feet stepped back on their own, itching to move more than a half-assed step he had allowed. He now faced the opposite problem than before, his heart raced, beat after beat, preparing for actions that made no sense. Why was he so ready to run? Lash out? It had been the same with Geto when they had spoken the first time alone, he had gotten emotional then too, but this was different. Haibara was claiming so much and—

“Of course I can, Yuji-kun.” The second-year walked forward and wrapped both arms around Yuji’s shoulder, trapping him in place as he squeezed him tight. “It’s true.”

Yuji shut his eyes and buried them into Haibara’s shoulder.

“I don’t know everything you’re going through, Yuji-kun, but I hope you know you can come to me if you need anything.” He could hear Haibara choking through his words, but the second-year pushed on nonetheless. “We may not have met in your future, but I’m very happy to have met you now. You’re a really good person. Nanami couldn’t have found a better kid to look after.”

“I wish we did.” Yuji reciprocated Haibara’s hug, grabbing onto the back of his shirt as best he could. He cried with no tears, working through the pain of breathing. “I’m sorry I don't know anything about your future, but…”

“It’s ok. Half the part of living is seeing how it all plays out. Why spoil it?”

“It’s not ok! I want to do all I can! I want to do more, and I can’t. It’s not—”

“You’re doing everything you can. That’s amazing enough already. Anything more is extra, and don’t you dare beat yourself up over it!” After just barely prying Yuji off him, Haibara lightly punched the younger teenager in the chest. “Seriously, I mean it. Nanami would say the same thing. I’m right, aren’t I?”

“He’d say it’s a waste of energy.” Yuji muttered, able to hear Nanami say those exact words in his head.

“It totally is.” The second-year paused, still holding onto Yuji’s arms as he thought through what he had to say. “Nanami doesn’t… he hasn’t been told any of this. Geto-senpai and Gojo-senpai should wait until you’re ready to bring it up, and if you do, don’t mention anything about me. I don’t want to upset him, and—”

“Senpai, I won’t.” There were some things people didn’t want to share, and Yuji understood that.

“Cool. You’re so—Seriously, I’m really jealous of Nanami right now. Would you be mad if I got to hang out with you guys when little past you grows up? I promise not to third-wheel too hard on your whole mentor-student thing!”

Flustered, Yuji wasn’t prepared to answer that kind of question.

“I don’t even know—If all these changes still lead to Nanami mentoring me, then sure?”

“Oh, it’s going to happen. I’m going to make sure of it. Cross my heart and hope to— Ok, bad choice of phrase there, but you know what I mean!” 

Yuji didn’t know if he deserved such a promise, but the sheer amount of will that had been placed into Haibara’s words was enough to get him to accept them. 

“Thank you.”

“Anytime, Yuji-kun!” 

It took the two a moment to separate and collect themselves. Yuji waited until Haibara was ready to point the way to their destination, keeping their word on having Shoko check him over despite the second-year insisting he was well.

Yuji’s thoughts drifted into morbid speculation on what could have happened if Haibara had been around in Shibuya. If the second-year had not disappeared, aware that death between now and when he met Nanami was a very likely cause. Haibara would have been stronger, he would have been able to help, but so many strong sorcerers, regardless of strength, died that day. There was an equal chance of him surviving, perhaps even helping to save Nanami as there was losing Haibara alongside his mentor.

Kenjaku and their plan to seal Gojo was to blame for it.

While a shoddy lead, Geto’s suggestion of visiting his grandfather was still something.

Yuji pulled out his phone with no new messages to greet him. His contact list was short, filled with nicknames that weren’t impossible to decipher. The name he was looking for was at the bottom.

[Yuji]

It’s Yuji. Gojo-sensei put your number in my phone. I want to visit my grandfather to learn what we can. 

[Sugu Fish]

I’ll see what I can do. Hurry back.

Before putting the device away once more, Yuji weighed it in his hand as he stared at the second-year walking in front of him.

“Senpai?” 

Yuji called out to get his attention. When Haibara turned around, he then lifted his device in the air.

“Can I... get a picture?”

Chapter Text

[Favorite Sensei]

Just remembered! Haibara knows that you’re from the future. We haven’t told Nanami yet since that seems like something you should do. 

It sucks that I can’t come with you today. There’s a lot of bullshit between the elders and the three families to work through. Lot of stuff not worth repeating. Resisting the urge to blast a few heads off, but I have to play nice or else Yaga might have a heart attack. How does future me deal with this crap?

Choso had to squint his eyes to read the message on the cell phone presented to him. The news was far too late to act as a warning, given what his younger brother had already told him of his encounter with the second-year last night. Instead of irritation with Satoru, Choso could only find an awkward grin on his brother’s face currently poking out between his seat and the passenger door.

“How does his future self deal with ‘that crap?’”

“I don’t think he does…” Yuji thought about his answer, then made the necessary adjustments. “I mean, he still goes on missions and stuff, but the only person above him that I’ve seen him respect is Yaga-san. And even that’s in his own weird way.”

“Please tell me you aren’t speaking about Satoru.” Suguru pulled his gaze from the window to join their conversation.

“Are you preferring we lie?” Choso’s response was overshadowed by Yuji climbing around in the front seat, switching to the inner side to stretch back and share the text message he had received just moments ago.

“Of course, he neglects to mention—Why am I even surprised? At least he’s doing better than I expected if all he wants to do is take a few heads.”

“But Sensei won’t actually do that… ri —Aah!”  

His brother’s request for assurance was interrupted by a formidable bump in the road, sending him tumbling back with the back of his head about to slam into the dashboard if it wasn’t for their driver’s quick reflexes.

“Turn around and sit in your seat properly. The front seat is a privilege.” 

The reason for Yaga allowing his brother the front seat to begin with was that knowledge of how to get to their destination rested with him. But Yuji wouldn’t fight the man with his role in mind. He closed his mouth and did as instructed without complaint. 

Yaga’s scolding may have killed the conversation, but the energy his brother held that had fueled it would not disappear so easily. Through the side mirror, Choso could see his brother’s rampant nerves in the way Yuji fiddled with the seatbelt, crushing it between his fingers and tugging on it to keep it away from his neck as if it were trying to choke him. Yuji’s eyes were primarily staring at the road ahead, but would wander to the surrounding sights, growing more concerned the farther they traveled. 

It was during that instance of eye wandering that Yuji made eye contact with Choso in the mirror. The younger brought that smile from earlier to his face again, hoping to drive off any concern the elder typically had for him. He wanted to give his older brother peace of mind. And for the moment, Choso would smile back and pretend Yuji had. Current circumstances made the decision an acceptable one.

Now was not the time to repeat old disagreements.

Not when they were en route to Sendai.

The city where Yuji was born. Where he grew up with the well-being of others in mind and was molded into the individual that stood defiant in the face of history’s most infamous curse. The center of his brother’s world for so many years.

Meeting such places tied to one’s history was never an easy endeavor. 

The opportunity to meet with their siblings, even if through the warehouse’s doors, had brought this feeling so easily assumed into reality. With one hand, Choso had felt the collective pulse of not only his counterpart, but all eight of their younger siblings. Confused. Anxious. Some were quick to anger at the lack of explanation, while others recoiled in fear as much as they could in the tiny prisons they were sealed within. 

It pained him to be unable to open that door. But as much as Choso wished to take hold of each vial and bring his brother close, he knew what was at stake. His actions would have his youngest bear the consequences, so he had settled on relaying the most direct message he could. 

“Move past your confusion and listen. This is Yuji. He’s your youngest brother. Remember him. Commit his energy to memory and if you ever meet him, protect him with your life.” 

“I’m deeply sorry. I can’t come for you all now. But someday, I hope circumstances will allow us to reunite once more.”

Choso could only pray that in this rehash of reality, his family would remain united as they should have been from the start. Admittedly, as much as it alleviated his own guilt that such a thought, such a possibility could certainly come true, there was envy in knowing that he and Yuji would never possess the same opportunity. 

They had already lost two brothers. And to then learn his brother had lost his grandfather before he and Choso had met. 

For Yuji to have lost another piece of his family… His brother had every right to feel whatever emotions tug at his heart in anticipation of their meeting, so long as he didn’t place the blame for another death on himself. 

Not everything in this life was beholden to their choices. 

Now that the car had become silent, Choso went through his options for further interaction, deducing that starting another conversation that may draw their driver and chaperone’s ire may be best to avoid. They were already fortunate as it was that the man had granted them permission to leave the campus a second time, but under the condition that his supervision was just as necessary as having the company of a special grade sorcerer along for the ride. Though, it was no secret that Suguru had his own personal investment in being here. 

A consolation to Yaga’s accompaniment was that the man possessed a license and a car of his own. This shortened the trip tremendously compared to if they had relied on the bus network and then by train, or had worse chosen to travel by foot. The third-year had offered traveling by cursed spirit through the air, and despite Yuji’s immediate excitement at the idea, the suggestion had ultimately been in jest. 

“You’re going to take the next exit, Yaga-san.” Yuji pointed at the upcoming sign.

“And from there?”

“You’ll take a left… then keep going for about five lights and then make a right. M— The house will be on the right.”

“Alright. Suguru,” Yaga angled his rearview mirror to face the teenager directly behind him. “When we arrive, you’ll have your curses sweep the area for suspicious activity. If everything is clear, the three of us will head in first, and you’ll remain stationed by the car outside. I’ll signal for you if anything changes.”

“Understood, sensei.” Disappointed, but accepting of his role, Suguru relaxed in his seat the best he could. 

The same could not be said for Yuji, who would only fidget further the closer they became to their destination. He held himself steady well enough to continue their navigation, only coming to a complete stop in sync with their vehicle a few buildings down from the old house Yuji once called his home. Suguru pulled down his window and let forth a few small curses from his fingertips. Mockeries of birds and other rodents that were known to make the city their home, each taking off and relaying whatever information they could back to one capable of pulling their strings.

The next minute could be compared to a century if one exaggerated hard enough. 

“The neighborhood appears normal. Besides us, there aren’t any suspicious groups of people nor singular bystanders with their sights set on the property. As for the house itself, I can only find one person inside—”

Yuji did not wait any longer. He flicked the lock on the passenger door and shoved it open, allowing no other words to be spoken. Only silent sentiments of encouragement and sympathy were shared as Yuji was the first to exit the vehicle and stand alone on the sidewalk. Choso couldn’t truly guess what was going on in his mind, but when he and Yaga had moved to join him, Yuji had already begun marching forward to put the last stretch of their journey behind him. 

The property before them was small, the building is one floor, and in need of minor cosmetic repairs. What little lawn was present was well-kept, and it was clear by the painted rocks by the steps and the tiny baseball bat by the door that a child lived within these walls. His brother ignored both and walked up to the door, fist raised and ready to knock, hesitating only to take a deep breath before nodding his head and following through with his plan.

Two knocks. 

No response.

Two more knocks, with more force than before. 

Suguru said someone was inside—

“I’m coming! Give me a moment! Would it kill you to have some patience, for crying out loud!?”

Yuji’s third attempt came to a halt at the sound of an older man’s voice. His fist remained in the air even as the sound of muffled movement grew behind the door, crescendoing into the lock being undone with a heavy click. The act of opening the door wasn’t slow, nor was it a rush. The older man— Itadori Wasuke —had opened it with just enough force to make his annoyance known. His eyes were on the ground, refusing initial contact before glancing up to tell off whoever had chosen to interrupt his day. 

“I don’t know who you are, but the sign right there says no soliciting—!” 

Wasuke withdrew from his rant, one he’d no doubt had to speak many times before, when eye contact with Yuji was made. Like his brother, the older man ceased all movement to stare. In spite of that, a name would tumble forth from his half-open mouth.  

“…Jin?”

“Hey, Jiji.” Yuji reshaped his fist into a small, awkward wave. He was doing as well as he could be, having found whatever he’d needed to ground himself for the conversation to come. “It’s Yuji.”

“Really?” From shocked to crossed, the older man looked with doubt in Yuji’s words. “If this is some kind of prank, I won’t have it.” Then, to make his demand even clearer, Wasuke sought to slam the door shut. “Leave, before I—”

Yuji shoved his foot between the door and its frame, refusing to move even as his foot was crushed between them. 

“This isn’t a prank!” Desperate, Yuji pried the door back open, overtaking his grandfather’s attempts at ending this encounter before it began. “On the first day of school, you got called in to come get me because I wanted to climb the stupid tall tree in the courtyard and ended up falling out of it. I only got an annoying bruise on my arm, but the school nurse was freaking out, and you tore into me about making a scene. It should have been much worse, we both know that, but I’m not like other kids— normal kids —am I?”

“M-My grandson is four!”

“And I’m fifteen!” Yuji begged Wasuke to listen. “Come on, Jiji. You have to believe that I'm the same Yuji you dropped off at school this morning. Just give me eleven years and a lot of mistakes, and here I am! With how crazy the world can be, just play along if you don’t believe me, ok? Just for a few questions, and then you’ll never have to see me again. I swear.”

Wasuke scoffed, ripping his hands off the door and turning his body away from Yuji. His eyes did not part from the entrance, however, flicking between his brother and the pair standing further down the path behind him. The older man then gave a disgruntled exhale before taking a step closer to further scrutinize the teenager in front of him. He raised his hand to point at the scars on Yuji’s face.

“What happened to you?” 

“I… got in a fight.”

“I raise a delinquent?” His grandfather’s assumption had garnered a chuckle from Yuji. His brother didn’t deny the assumption nor the negative connotation that came with it. 

“Something like that. Look, Jiji, I need to ask you about—”

“Itadori-san,” Yaga approached the front entrance, bowing before continuing, “Do you mind if we take this conversation inside? Private matters should be dealt with out of sight.”

“And who are you supposed to be?”

“Yaga Masamichi. I’m a teacher at the Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College, though many of the students refer to it simply as Jujutsu Tech.”

“We need to—” Yuji shook his head. “Jiji, I know about mom.”

It was Yuji’s admittance that won them permission to enter Wasuke’s home. The older man had only gestured them in with a nod of his head, the silent curse mouthed from his lips had made his knowledge of the subject clear. The talk was one he couldn’t avoid, and for what it was worth, like his grandson, Wasuke was able to take it all in stride. 

“In here. I will hear no complaints about my home. It couldn’t have killed you to call ahead.”

Choso was the last one to enter the Itadori household. The common room their talk would take place was a modest one. A comfortable fit for two people, not four. The short table in the center only had two cushions down to sit, both facing the old television in the corner. Choso’s foot hit something small and plastic, taking his attention away for just a moment to look down at the small toy car by his boot. 

His little brother was in school right now, wasn’t he? He recalled Yuji and Suguru discussing the fact, which is why their meeting had to take place earlier in the day to avoid running into his younger brother’s counterpart and the inevitable confusion such a meeting could bring, especially to such a small child. They weren’t planning to stay for long.

Yuji made the first move to sit down, taking the seat directly across from his grandfather, staring intensely to show his own attention would not waver. In contrast, his grandfather sat down with his arms crossed and eyebrows scrunched firmly together, eyes diverted to the table. Yaga and Choso took that as permission to sit themselves at Yuji’s side, taking the left and right sides of him respectively. 

“What do you know?” Yuji was whom Wasuke was asking. For his brother, this was a conversation long overdue. For his grandfather, one he must have prepared for, but never thought he’d have to share so soon.

“Not nearly enough. I know her name on record was Kaori, and a vague memory she had stitches across her forehead. She wasn’t who she said she was, isn’t that right?”

“Kaori wasn’t herself after the accident. Before that, I can only choose to believe the person she was before was genuine. She was kind, hard-working, and managed to whip Jin out of his carefree attitude when necessary. Something I could never quite do.”

“The accident,” Yuji repeated, fingers curling in his lap. “A car crash, right? There was an article—”

“—She should not have survived.” His grandfather glared at him, causing the first flinch, the first break of fear in his brother since he stepped out of the car. What a belligerent man.  

Choso was about to do something, say something, react with something to ease his brother’s tension, but before he could, the older man relaxed his eyes and sighed. In a sense, it was his own apology. Yet Yuji would not fight it, merely accepting it for what Choso had assumed it was. Then a conclusion sprung to mind, filling in the gaps for how easily his brother interpreted and responded to Satoru and his odd assortment of signals that one could argue were designed to antagonize those around him. To his brother, such behavior wasn’t anything new.

“Jin… Your father was a good man. His heart was where it should be, but he refused to use his eyes to see what was in front of him. No matter what those doctors said, Kaori’s injuries should have killed her at the moment of impact. He chose to believe otherwise when that person— that thing —masquerading as her was released from the hospital.”

“You knew from the beginning?” It wasn’t horror in Yuji’s voice, but affirmation. 

“Her hands were no longer warm. Her gaze was cold and calculated no matter what came out of her mouth. I did not hide my objections, but Jin wouldn’t have it. He insisted—blamed my warning as nothing more than dislike that was ‘to be expected when marriage brings families together.’ We argued. More than once. And I eventually backed off to avoid cutting ties with my son… I don’t need to tell you how that ended.”

“They disappeared.”

“And after fifteen years they still haven't come back.” Wasuke gathered from his grandson’s reason for visiting. The older man reached behind him, sliding the door of the cabinet against his back to pull out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. “Before you ask, no. I don’t know where they went. Jin didn’t speak with me about anything other than watching over you for a weekend, and that weekend grew longer each passing day since.”

“You said you would stop smoking inside.”

“Not yet, I haven’t.” Instead of doubling down on his decision, Wasuke mumbled a curse under his breath and left the smoking paraphernalia where he found them.

“You’re taking this rather well, all things considered.” Choso used the break in their primary discussion to figuratively nudge the older man, curious about his own history just as much as his son’s. “You’re not unfamiliar with curses, are you?”

“Who are you? A friend of his?”

“Jiji, this is Choso.” Choso bowed his head after Yuji’s introduction. “Kaori was taken over by someone named Kenjaku, probably right after the accident. The scar across her forehead confirms it. And well, they had other kids before me. Choso is my older brother. Half-brother? Sort of? The details are messy, but he’s family.”

“I see.” Wasuke tapped the table and clicked his tongue, returning to Choso’s prior question. “I know enough about curses and spirits to avoid them. I never had the sight, but my grandmother spoke of them when I was Yuji’s age. At the time, I always believed them to be stories. Tales to keep the kids in line. But after what happened with Kaori, after Jin was spirited away… I realized there were things in this world beyond understanding that deserved to be feared and avoided.”

“But you still took care of me. You knew about what happened to mom. And that she— Kenjaku left with dad.” His brother couldn’t keep his head up any longer. He did not hide his face entirely, but his doubt and fear were becoming harder to contain. “You know I’m not… normal, so why did you…?” 

Wasuke stood up and left for the hallway, withholding his answer until he finished rummaging through the nearby closet in search of a worn-down box covered in dust. The lid was tilted back just enough to allow his fingers to slip inside and pull out a piece of paper… No, a photograph. One that would be handed off to Yuji after he sat back down. One that depicted a joyful man with glasses, sharing the same shade of pink hair on Yuji’s head, holding a newborn in his arms. That must be Jin.

“I’ve never seen Jin happier than the day you were born.” 

As his grandfather spoke, Yuji continued to stare at the photograph. His hands twitched enough to cause it to shake, but placing his elbows on the table to both lean on and stabilize his arms appeared to have remedied the problem.

“All Jin ever wanted was a family. Kenjaku, whoever they are— they prayed on that. But you’re still his son. My grandson. It’s not your fault your father refused to accept the truth to live a lie with that thing—” Wasuke paused to look at the photograph once more. “First my son, now you, my grandson, a teenager from the future of all places wearing uniforms for a school that’s embedded in the very life I wanted you to avoid—I thought if anyone could do right by you… If not your parents, then I could find a way to protect you from this world your father brought you in. And it looks like I failed.”

“You did everything you could, Jiji.”

“Not enough.”

“There are some things— a lot of things you didn’t know.” Yuji choked out his words, forcing them through with greater clarity as he continued on, choosing his words carefully. “Kenjaku wants something from me in the future. Something bad. There’s a curse called Sukuna and like mom… I might not end up being me anymore if things don’t work out how we want them to. But they will! We’re working on it. Promise. And it’s really not anything that needs to be worried about for at least a decade but if Kenjaku or anyone suspicious comes around…”

His brother turned to Yaga, a light smirk appearing as he was pleased with the idea that had come to mind.

“Can you guys exchange contact information? Just in case?”

“That would be a smart idea.” Yaga pulled out a small notebook from his jacket, prepared to write down anything of use. When finished, he slid both objects over to Wasuke for the older man to do the same. “Even if it's unrelated, I’d rather exercise caution than none at all. I can have myself or a sorcerer I trust to your home as soon as you call.” 

Wasuke picked up the pencil but did not move to write anything down.

“Yuji, you come here and say all this, but you still have the nerve to smile?”

“Well, yeah. If everything works out, none of what I’m warning you about will happen. And there’s no use in crying over what already happened… you know? Just gotta keep moving on.” Yuji tried to laugh, but it came out far too forced for it to be believable. His grandfather ripped off the page Yaga filled out to keep before jotting his contact information and sighing.

“Are you wearing any contacts?”

The question seemingly came out of nowhere, leaving Yuji startled.

“Um, no? Why?”

“Your father needed glasses since he was eight. Broke three pairs messing around, and you have more energy than he did at your age.” Wasuke had moved on to a new sheet of paper, tapping the pencil against it as there were more questions for his grandson to answer. “What about your teeth? Did you need braces?”

“No braces. No cavities either. I brush them every morning and night.”

“Are you eating properly? Sleeping well?”

“Trying to. Choso’s keeping an eye out for that.”

“As he should. How about friends? Outside your family, do you have anyone to talk to? Rely on?”

“Yes. I have Gojo-sensei and Yaga-sensei. My classmates, Fushiguro and Kugi…” Yuji breathed, then nodded. “Kugisaki. You would like them a lot. Fushiguro is calm and responsible, and Kugisaki isn’t afraid to speak her mind. She loves taking us places, anything to get out of the dorms at school. And I have some really cool senpais too.”

“Good. I’d hate to learn you were going through this alone.” Satisfied, Wasuke felt no need to write Yuji’s answers. The older man returned Yaga’s things and stood up on his feet. “My other grandson should be on his way home from school by now. As much as I don’t want to cut this conversation short, it would be best if you leave before he gets home. Unless you want to try explaining who you are without having to explain all the curses and sorcery that goes with it.”

“I get it. We were trying to avoid the younger me. You know, in case it broke something in time or whatever. I’m not exactly sure what the rules are, but there are better ways and places to find those out.”

It was their cue to leave. Yuji was the first to climb to his feet, deciding to shuffle around the table to hand the photograph back rather than stretch his arm across. 

“Here. And thank you, for believing me. For everything, really—” Yuji was cut off by his grandfather who had moved to embrace him without warning. His brother stood still, eyes going wide before grabbing hold of his grandfather as tightly as he could. 

There was a whisper between them as Wasuke clutched the back of Yuji’s head and spoke into his ear. An exchange Choso was not privy to, nor would he ask about unless his brother wished to share it. All his ears could pick up were the inevitable “I love you.” between muted sobs as they released one another. Yuji gave one last wave before he stepped back, ready to depart now before second thoughts urged him to stay any longer. 

Yaga would follow, as would Choso. But before the curse could exit after their chaperone, a hand grabbed hold of Choso’s shoulder, calling for him to stay.

“Just a moment.”

Choso would not deny his brother’s grandfather this. He signaled that all was well to the pair before waving them off so that he and Wasuke may speak in private as the older man surely intended.

“Thank you, for watching over Yuji after I’m gone.”

“How do you—?” Choso held the rest of his sentence as he considered that Yuji could have just told him. Yet, he doubted such news could be shared in so few words, which brought him back to his initial confusion.

“I see the way he looks at me. He may be older, but Yuji still wears his emotions on his sleeve. He’s mourning. And you,” The older man grabbed Choso’s shoulders before looking him up and down. “You are quite stiff. We’ve never met before.”

“No, we haven’t. But Yuji has only ever told me good things about you. I’m happy to find that my brother was lucky to have a grandfather that cares so deeply for him. While you might feel disheartened after hearing all this, I believe the life you gave him away from the world of curses was the best you could have done. If I had it my way, he’d have never been introduced to this world in the first place.”

Wasuke smiled at the news. It was distant, riddled with sadness, yet prominent enough to break free. 

“Well, if by some chance we manage to cross paths again, know that you or whatever version of you is out there is welcome into this home. Despite what happened with Kaori… You’re Yuji’s family. That makes you mine as well. Just don’t bring any trouble with you, understand?”

There had been no time for a single teardrop to escape before a steady stream leaked out from Choso’s eyes. Immediately, he had to hide his face in his sleeve, rubbing his cheeks red in a fruitless endeavor to dry them off. He couldn’t stop the waterworks no matter how much he tried.

This man had every reason to deny familial ties to him. To be the son of the monster who possessed Yuji’s mother and stole his father—Blood relations were often paramount in where one’s loyalty lay. Choso followed that code with his siblings, only breaking it in relation to their shared father who had forsaken them first. Yet, between Choso and Wasuke, who only had Yuji between them as a bridge in place of no direct ties, the older man had chosen one type of connection in favor of another. 

Yuji had already accepted him, but with Wasuke’s words, Choso truly felt he stood amongst what remained of the Itadoris as one of them. For that, he would never be able to express the gratitude overtaking his heart in full. 

“T-Thank y-you, Itadori-s-san!”

Choso bowed once more, properly this time, with both hands at his side. 

“Enough. That’s not necessary.” Choso would disagree, but he kept the thought to himself. “Keep watching over him, alright? And take care of yourself as well. Neither of you will be any good to anyone if you both run yourselves into the ground. Now get out of here. You’ve taken up enough of my time.”

Such words held none of the bite that would normally come with them. It was amusing in its own right, the way different people say goodbye. In return, Choso choked back his tears and apologized, wishing him a good rest of his day before making his way to join up with the others. 

When Choso reached the sidewalk, he turned to his left to where they had parked their vehicle. His brother was leaning against the passenger door, looking up and listening to Yaga who was currently on the phone. Suguru was noticeably absent, but by the time Choso had caught up with the pair, he was able to learn why. 

“We’ll be waiting in the car. Get him home, then come to us when you’re done.” A simple click was all it took to end the call, granting Yuji permission to fill Choso in without interruption.

“Geto-san ran into younger me. He took him on a walk around the block to give us more time.”

“So let’s continue speaking in the car or the effort would have been wasted.” 

Both brothers heeded Yaga’s order and climbed inside the backseat with Yuji taking over where Suguru had been. He’d also pulled his hood over his head, guaranteeing that even behind the tinted windows of the car, his unique color of hair would not stand out. 

“Um,” Yuji nudged Choso with his shoulder as he stared between the front seats. “What did you and Jiji talk about?"

“You.” Choso found no reason to lie. “He wanted to make sure I’m looking out for you. He… Was there a reason you refrained from telling him about his own fate? You could change how long the two of you have left.”

“Jiji… had a lot of things going on at once. Most of it can be chalked up to old age, the rest were probably life choices that started from when he was my age. There’s not a lot you can do about those kinds of things. And I didn’t want to just pile on the bad news. His heart was under enough stress with us being here as it is. I’m surprised the old man didn’t collapse from shock!” His brother’s words were supposed to be a joke, but neither one of them could do more than chuckle at the thought. 

“I believe your grandfather understood your intent. I also think you should give him a bit more credit. He cares about you, he’ll make an effort to be with you as much as he can.”

“Are you sure we’re talking about the same man?” Yuji shook his head. “Jiji yelled at me every second I spent at the hospital with him right up to the end.”

“I would assume he’d rather you live your life with the experiences expected of a child your age than spend your youth at his side. I know I would feel the same if I was in his position.” 

“Yeah, well, you both suck. I’m the only one who gets to choose how I want to spend my time.” His brother bundled his fists in his pockets, flopping back into the seat only to catch the same glimpse of Suguru and the small child accompanying him turning the corner further down the road. 

There was his little brother. His littler brother, skipping along to keep up Suguru’s pace with a half-eaten bright blue popsicle in his hand. The older teenager had a matching treat in far better shape, as well as a plastic bag hanging off his arm that certainly wasn’t in his possession when they’d left him. From where they sat, Choso could see that littler Yuji was babbling about something interesting enough to keep Suguru’s attention. 

“That’s me.” Yuji breathed. “I remember that backpack. I used it for years. I had a little tiger keychain hanging off the side— There it is!”

Choso followed Yuji’s now outstretched finger, pointing at the blur of orange dangling off the side of his counterpart’s oversized backpack. It had only become visible when the child faced his home and began walking towards the front door, not before waving goodbye to Suguru with his entire hand swinging excitedly in the air. There was a bit of envy present in Choso’s heart, but it easily settled with a glance at the Yuji sitting beside him. 

“That’s so… weird. This is weird. Is this how you felt when we reached the warehouse?”

Choso thought for a moment, reflecting on the conflict of emotions he’d felt when stepping up to the warehouse door. He had thought his own trepidation beyond what he’d planned to accomplish was to blame, but there had certainly been more. A sense of unease. A wrong that could not be righted.

“Something like that. It’s a hard sensation to put into words. But there’s an innate feeling of knowing I don’t belong that won’t go away.”

“You’re telling me…”

Suguru would return the gesture with a swivel of his wrist and a nod. Then he sauntered back to the car, quickly realizing that their seats had been rearranged and took the empty spot in the front where his brother had been.

“Popsicle?” Suguru held up the plastic bag in his hand. When Yaga hand waved the offer, the third-year passed the bag over to Yuji to sift through as he pleased. “You were a very energetic kid.”

“So I’ve been told.” His brother mouthed a thank you as he pulled out the orange-flavored popsicle, offering his brother the grape-flavored one while muttering a prayer for the frozen treat left behind to survive their journey home. “I hope he— I? —didn’t give you too much trouble.”

“None at all. I got to stretch my legs and give the neighborhood a more thorough look around. Nothing came up, so our visit should go unnoticed. How’d it go with your grandfather?”

“Better than I expected.” Yuji unwrapped his popsicle and pulled the wrapping down just far enough that it became a part of his handle. Yaga started the engine in the meantime, pulling out onto the road as they caught Suguru up to speed. “He listened to what we had to say. Took the whole time travel thing pretty well. But we didn’t learn anything else about Kenjaku, not even where my parents went or if they are still around. We’re still back at square one.”

“I wouldn’t be so quick to say that.” Yaga cleared his throat. “Your parents were both victims of Kenjaku's greater plan, and your grandfather couldn’t be further away from being on good terms with them. And nothing in the way Itadori Wasuke spoke would have me believe otherwise. You’re learning who your allies are, and who you can trust. That’s important.”

“Oh, right. That makes sense, Yaga-san!”

“And now that he has the ability to contact us if anything in your history changes, we’re more likely to know about it. I’ll make a note to keep tabs on you, and look into sending your grandfather a more thorough warning about keeping you from consuming any thousand-year-old-fingers you might come across.”

Yuji slapped his forehead, cursing loudly. “Shit! I should have—Ok, but how do you slip that into the conversation!? Ugh… No, I’m glad I’m not the one telling him about that. Jiji would have smacked me upside the head for sure.”

“It can’t be worse than when I explained to my parents how my cursed technique worked.” Suguru leaned his seat back a bit, then craned his neck so he and Yuji were able to see each other with little strain. “For context, neither are sorcerers and have very little understanding of the existence of curses. So imagine having to tell the both of them I have to consume cursed spirits in their entirety to make them submit to my will? My father looked at me as if I’d grown a third eye while my mother almost lost her lunch in the kitchen sink.”

“You’re not joking. Geto-san, I’m so sorry.”

Suguru turned back to face the front, eyes fixated on the driver beside him. 

“What? Don’t be. I left for my first day of school right after. If there is anything anyone should be sorry for, it’s that I spent the last three years sharing a class with Satoru.”

“And who is the one stuck teaching the both of you?” His sensei groaned. “If there is a victim in any of this…”

“My mistake, Yaga-sensei. It’s Shoko.” 

The deadpan response Suguru gave combined with the scowl he received was enough to bring some much-needed levity to the atmosphere inside the car they’ll be stuck in for the next few hours. The newly rolled down window by his brother’s doing allowed fresh air inside, which did wonders in its own right. 

Calm wasn’t the correct word to describe where Yuji was now. Peace or content were still too strong, but Choso could sense his brother had reached a new level of closure he never thought he’d possess the opportunity to achieve. It certainly eased some of the tension which kept his body exhausted and in need of rest. Perhaps, his heart might be able to beat with greater ease after today.

It was all Choso could hope for. In a way, that would be another accomplishment, even if the results were not as apparent as the steps they took to their primary objective while still stranded in the year they were never meant to be a part of. 

When they reached the school, Yaga dropped Suguru off close to the main gate. He bid the third-year a temporary goodbye, letting him know that they were still on campus, but there was one matter he wished to discuss with Yuji and Choso in private. 

What this matter was, Choso could not say. By the look on his brother’s face, Yuji had no clue as to what the man was referring to either. Neither one sought to ask. Instead, they chose to remain quiet as Yaga returned to the road, taking a different route to an alternative entrance within the Jujutsu Tech campus.

“This is where the teachers live,” Yuji whispered to his brother. “I stayed with Gojo-sensei for a while over here. I can’t find his house from here… maybe he paid to have it built when he started teaching?”

“If you both won’t mind, I’d ask you both to refrain from speaking about anything I’m going to show you.” Yaga parked the car. He hand grabbed the handle to his door but remained idle until he received a response. “Can you do that?”

“Yes, sir!”

“Of course.”

Yuji and Choso answered in unison before piling out of the vehicle. Yaga led the way up the steps leading toward the small cluster of homes. Most of which appeared to no longer be in use, lacking in any identification on who the current tenets would be or showing any signs of life beyond the standard care taken to keep the buildings in working order. 

“Normally, I complain about the lack of staff at this school. But today it’s to our benefit.”

“Are we going to your house, Yaga-san?” His brother ran to catch up to Yaga’s side.

“Yes. There’s something there that I think you’ll appreciate.”

“Appreciate?”

It was a simple matter of finding the right key to enter Yaga’s home. After letting both brothers inside, the man closed the door and ushered them further in with another key already in hand to open the door standing between them and this unknown thing that now held their interest. 

Yaga stood off to the side as he opened the door, allowing them both to peer into what looked to be a brightly colored children’s bedroom. If it weren’t for the cursed energy radiating off the small creature sitting in the center, Choso would have mistaken it to be another doll among the toys scattered around the room.

“P-Panda!”

“I thought you’d like to meet him. You’ve both proven yourselves to be trustworthy, so as long as you continue to keep him a secret, I don’t have any objections to this.” The man turned away from Yuji’s slack-jawed excitement to address the small panda whom he considered his child. “The one with pink hair is Yuji. He’s a student of mine. And this is his brother, Choso—”

“HE’S SO TINY!”

Yuji rushed forward, hopping around in circles as he viewed his senpai’s younger self from every possible angle. 

“H-Hello. Nice to meet you, Yuji-san—” Choso could only watch as Yuji picked up Panda and held him over his head as if he were weightless. The small creature was certainly surprised, letting out a small gasp before giving in to the utter confusion at Yuji’s mannerisms with the tilt of the head. “Please… not so high.”

“Ah! Right, sorry!” Yuji brought panda down, keeping him in his arms as he beamed back at Yaga. “He’s so cute! Panda was always kind of cute when he’s not punching things— I mean he’s a panda, of course he’s cute but, like, look at him! Yaga-san, he’s—Panda is— Aaaah, I don’t even know what to say!”

“You could start with being polite and introducing yourself properly.” 

His brother recoiled slightly at Yaga’s response, uttering an apology before admitting the man was right.

“Sorry!” Yuji then turned the small panda around in his arms. “Nice to meet you too, Panda-senpai! Or wait… Panda-kun!”

Despite the initial scare, Panda’s face began to reflect the same excitement his brother held, though Choso was convinced no one could match his brother’s level of enthusiasm if they tried. “I’ve never had visitors before. Do you want to play with me, Yuji-san?”

“Can I, Yaga-san?”

“For a little bit. You can help Panda clean up his room while you're at it.”

“On it.” Yuji set Panda down to salute the man. He then turned back to Panda with his hands on his knees. “We can make it a game! Whoever puts the most stuff away first gets to decide what we do next!”

“Ok!”

As the two scrambled around the room, Choso remained out in the hall with Yaga. The man was content to lean against the door frame and watch the two interact, satisfied with the excellent behavior his child was displaying. For Choso, he found himself in a similar position, happy to observe how quickly this visit had perked up his brother out of the stupor he continuously found himself in.

“It’s almost unbelievable to think that Panda will be Yuji’s senpai one day.” With how low Yaga kept his voice, Choso could only assume he was whom Yaga was speaking to.

“Why is that?”

“You can see for yourself that Panda isn’t a panda. And he’s not human either.”

That was because Panda is a cursed corpse. 

“But you’re raising him as if he’s no different from one. He speaks and acts as any child would.” The statement was more akin to a question, but Choso would not pry further into his motives.

“He can think and feel for himself. For a child, that would be normal. But for a cursed corpse, well, if the higher-ups found out—I guess now it’s a matter of when. Not if.” Yaga crossed his arms and sighed, smiling at the sight before him. “Your brother’s pictures mean that Panda remains with me for far longer than I’d expected. To know he’s allowed to be a student here rather than sealed away or exorcised… It’s a good feeling. It’s something I can look forward to amongst this sea of crap heading our way.”

“You should tell Yuji that when they’re done. He needs more of that positivity right now.”

“And what about you?”

“Me?” Choso leaned against the opposing wall to mull over the question, not that it would change his answer. “As long as he’s happy, I’m content.”

“I feel the same way about Panda.”

Chapter Text

"I envy you.”

The silence which kept a hold over the room since Suguru’s entrance had been broken by the thought that strayed from Choso’s mouth. Understanding as to why the curse would say such a thing was lost to him. There was nothing in Choso’s body language to hint at his meaning while poking through the kitchen’s cupboards, which left Suguru to fall back on the conclusion that the curse was referring to him and the knowledge they shared of the future to come. 

What other topic was there between them? Choso’s initial animosity spoke louder than anything the curse could add involving Suguru’s future counterpart. He knew the person Suguru had grown to be, and if there was no fault to be found in that, then it was the crime of sharing the stolen face of that curse’s creator. The changing of Choso’s stance to something more cordial wouldn’t override their initial exchange. 

“What is there to envy?” Suguru glanced up from his phone, wondering if his own body language hadn’t been a clear enough indicator of his unwillingness to engage in conversation alone with him. Whatever discussion the teenager had assumed they would have, he’d rather have it once than repeat himself when Itadori was awake. 

Was it the desire and ability to follow through with attempting to rid the earth of the non-sorcerer population or the act of his body getting stolen by the one hellbent on seeing their world’s end? Which part of Suguru’s fate did Choso envy when one left him dead and the other a puppeteered corpse?

“You only know through others of a future that awaits you. You and your future self are separate. It is you who will decide how the rest of your life unfolds through your choices with that knowledge in mind without ever having to live through the same history as your counterpart.”

“Doesn’t that seem unfair? Cheap? This revelation was not something I gained through personal trial, but gifted through another. While I agree that the future you both came to is one to be avoided as there is no argument against stopping your creator’s plans, I don’t see why it is worth envying.” 

Choso pulled out from the cupboard with a bowl of ramen in his hands. His eyes were on the label, but he was not reading it. 

“I almost killed Yuji for the loss of our brothers, Eso and Kechizu.”

Suguru lifted his head up, unsure if he was to believe what he had heard. It was easy to forget that the curse had mentioned this before on the day they came across the time-traveling pair. With how devoted Choso was to watching over his younger brother and practically micromanaging every part of his health, the thought of him striking a killing blow against Itadori was… Well, Choso was a curse, so it shouldn't be that outrageous. 

And yet the feeling of disbelief was still present.

“There’s a scar on his left foot from where I stabbed him. Out of all the marks we’d exchanged during the fight, that was the only one that never healed.” The curse paused, hazarding a look at Suguru before placing the cup of microwavable noodles down and sighing. “It was my misjudgment that led to our fight. I could not see through my father’s manipulation, and out of every curse and curse user who had followed them into Shibuya, I should have been the one to see the monster underneath. My little brother… will carry the burden of my mistake for the rest of his life no matter how much I beg him not to. I envy my counterpart as well for the same reason I envy you, as neither of you will have to live through those mistakes to learn what consequences lie ahead. To answer your question, no, I don’t believe what insights you find in our warnings are cheap.”

Choso doesn’t believe that he and Itadori’s warnings would be wasted. He expects Suguru to change. Just as his brother did. Just as Satoru begged him to. 

They all wish for him to change.

In principle, there was nothing wrong with change. Suguru preferred change. He wanted the world to change. It was the lack of immediate change that was continually driving him near to insanity. But Suguru had decided to lie in wait and give Satoru’s plan to reshape the world a chance, which meant he was stuck waiting once more. 

Was that why Suguru felt so unconvinced by something he should so easily support?

“You looked troubled when you walked in. I had hoped I could ease whatever was troubling you, but it appears I was mistaken.”

“Why would you bother?” Suguru snapped, his boiling frustration of not even an entire twenty-four hours of Satoru’s absence rearing its head. “How can you stand there and show me sympathy? You and your brother—You both know the person I became without the help of a body-snatching ghost from the past. What worth is there in sympathizing with that?”

The teenager was quick, however, to dial back his outburst. Any louder and Suguru would be shouting, which would do no one any favors. Instead, Suguru let his weight fall completely into his seat. Suguru’s chin would be supported by the fist against his cheek, his facing turned away from the curse completely.

“You expect me to have this revelation that my counterpart was wrong. It’s so easy to say that this system of sorcerers and tradition should be given time to change and ease into something new. My pursuit of anything more immediate should be avoided because of what my inevitable death— which came at this very clash of ideals —did to Satoru. It should be a simple decision, but you weren’t there. You don’t hear the sound of a crowd clapping every night. You don’t see the smiles on their faces as they celebrated Riko’s—”

That scene had never faded from Suguru’s mind. The memory was as clear as the day he tracked down where Riko’s body had been delivered. The girl destined for a tragedy he and Satoru had foolishly believed themselves capable of circumventing. 

They were the strongest. 

That should have meant something other than a promise of false hope and a bullet through Riko’s head.

“Why am I speaking about any of this to you, a curse? I must be losing it.”

“I do not know. But if it means anything, even if it comes from the curse you insist on seeing me as, I once felt the same hatred and dismissal toward humans as you do. Though, I saw no reason in separating non-sorcerers and sorcerers. Humans live and die the same.”

“Non-sorcerers create curses. Curses kill sorcerers.”

“And sorcerers kill curses.” Not a single beat was skipped in Choso’s retort. “I once believed that a world of curses would accept my family who stand with a foot on both sides of the line we’ve drawn more than the world of humans. I was in Shibuya to avenge the two brothers I lost, and to protect the rest of my siblings who had yet to awaken. I offer sympathy because I see myself in you, both the child you are now and the rhetoric which survived in those who followed your future counterpart. A world without curses would no longer put the people you care so much about in danger, but the lengths it may take to achieve it… My mistake came from looking at the greater painting instead of appreciating the finer strokes for which it could not exist without.” 

Two sides of the same accursed coin.

“How do you do it?” 

Suguru pushed himself to turn around, to give the curse some level of respect he had been so insistent on denying. There had been a plethora of chances for Choso to react with anger or violence that was expected of a curse, and every time he’d managed to keep a level head. To act as though he were human. 

Choso was half human.

Time and time again, the teenager had overlooked that fact.

Maybe it was time to stop.

“The elders would wish you and Itadori dead. Sorcerers are just as great of a threat to you as anything else.” Unfortunately, it did not matter how human the Death Paintings could present themselves. They were considered dangerous enough objects to be sealed in the school’s warehouse. The Kamo clan especially would have them forgotten entirely if it were possible. As long as their whereabouts were known, Suguru doubted Choso or the rest of his family would know peace.

“Only the ones unwilling to listen. Neither you nor Satoru have insisted on our destruction to the point of acting on it. Shoko has no qualms sitting beside my brother, who houses the King of Curses, and your teacher has given us a place to stay. I keep an eye out for any changes in this, but as long as Yuji is safe and able to pursue his goals, there is no reason to do anything else. I’m content as long as he is.” Choso leaned back, just enough to take a step back and look at Suguru directly. “I found myself happier in shrinking the scope of my goals, but I know it may not be the answer you’re looking for. I hope whatever outcome you pursue allows you to keep the people you care about close, as there is little point in acting for their benefit if you and your loved ones can’t be together to experience the results. At least, that is from my experience.”

“Of all the people—You should be telling Satoru this.” The bitter remark came all too quickly, as it was his classmate's insistence that he could do and fix everything which would inevitably leave them separated regardless of what Satoru thought. However, Suguru was quick to shut his mouth before adding an addendum to his comment as he realized his own hypocrisy. 

Did his future counterpart remain out of contact with Satoru after he left? Was it easier to cut all ties than be reminded of the very few good things from the life he used to have? According to Itadori, Satoru was there with him at the end.

Neither of them got what they wished, did they?

“I’ll keep this in mind. Thank you.”

“I’ll ensure that Satoru will hear something similar when he returns.” Choso allowed a hint of amusement to appear on his face, but it was soon overshadowed by confusion as he directed his attention back toward the noodle cup behind him. “The instructions mention filling this up to a line inside?” 

“It’ll make sense when you peel back the lid.” Suguru was quick to accept the offer of a change in subject. “Is that for…?”

“Yuji. He’ll be waking up soon.”

A yawn escaped Suguru’s mouth. Blaming his lack of sleep for how tired he felt was becoming exhausting, so looked to point fingers at the summer heat and the lack of any motion beyond the car he was keeping watch from instead.

Uneventful. Plain. Even the occasional cursed spirit was small and insignificant. 

Sendai was quiet.

Suguru was willing to claim it was too quiet, but that was only because the confrontation between Itadori and his grandfather had the hairs on the back of his neck standing on edge. While he felt a morose excitement at the chance to learn more about Kenjaku— The name sank like lead into the pit of Suguru’s stomach —and the plans surrounding his and Itadori’s futures, it came at the possibility of the younger teenager learning darker truths about his family that he may not be entirely prepared to accept. For Itadori’s sake, he would hope whatever the old man had to say didn't tarnish the memory of the grandfather Itadori lost. 

“If only.” 

The last thought came out as a sigh. Suguru was currently scanning through the front seat of Yaga’s car, taking note of how clean and orderly the interior was as his curses weren’t finding anything else worth his attention. He had already read through the message summarizing Satoru’s meeting with Tengen a dozen times over. A lot of it was wasted commentary on the complexities of time travel with speculative theories on what their meddling could mean, but there was one message in particular that drew Suguru to reopen it again and again. 

[Satoru]

[Kenjaku is the name of the body snatcher we’re going to kill. Their goal is the evolution of mankind, whatever the hell that means. By how Tengen talked, they are probably older than dirt! Blech. This is why I hate old people. They’re always pulling this kind of crap. Just cut your losses and retire already. First Sukuna, and now this clown? I am so sick of the ancient evil returns trope.]

Suguru knew Satoru was using humor to lighten the impact of each piece of information they received. It had made the eventual summary exceedingly lengthy and full of unnecessary commentary to sift through, but Suguru wouldn’t fault him for it. It must have been easier for him to type this way given the topic at hand.

Once again, aside from the name, the information they received was too vague to be of practical use.

After reading through Satoru’s past messages for the umpteenth time, there were no new messages that needed Suguru’s attention. Thus, all the teenager had left to occupy his time with was that act of staring in one direction until he zoned out or began counting the strange animal hairs he found against the seat. He hadn’t imagined his sensei as someone who’d own a pet…

A sudden shriek from high in the sky had Suguru shooting up from where he’d tucked his head, making contact with the car’s ceiling in his frantic search to see what the bird-like curse above had sought to warn him about. Still flying in circles overhead, it had taken longer than it should to see the little boy in the red shirt and oversized backpack approaching the Itadori household. The pink hair upon his head was unmistakable, which in turn, instilled a sudden panic.

Had his school already been dismissed for the day? Was there a public holiday they hadn’t considered? Or was he returning home for lunch? They had purposefully chosen a time to appear to avoid a meeting like this in fear of causing any reality-distorting problems, thus it was Suguru’s job to ensure that the Itadori and his younger self did not meet. 

Quickly, Suguru poked his head out of the open passenger window and shouted toward the boy.

“You can’t go in there!” This didn’t get the child’s attention, which prompted Suguru to call out his name directly. “Yuji!”

“Huh?” Itadori’s younger counterpart— for the sake of differentiation, Suguru would refer to him as Yuji and the time traveler as Itadori —stopped in place, his foot smacking against the ground before he swung around his whole body to look at Suguru. “Me?”

Suguru hadn’t meant to stare with his mouth partially open, but it was difficult to form the proper words when just moments ago, an older version of this child was sitting in the same car as him. One who was scarred and carrying a greater burden than any one person could accumulate throughout their entire lifetime. The boy he was looking at did not carry the cursed energy of Ryomen Sukuna, nor did he sport the worn eyes of a sorcerer with decades of experience pressed into less than a single year. 

This child was untainted by sorcery completely. It almost reminded Suguru of the sorcerer killer, but there was something else he could quite grasp when it came to how this kid felt. And now Yuji’s wide and curious eyes were barreling right toward him because Suguru had waited too long to give him an answer. 

Joy.

“Why not?”

Yuji was standing outside the car now, his little chubby fingers flat against the frame. 

“Well, you see…” Suguru had not been prepared to speak with Yuji. One wrong word or piece of information could lead to a drastic change, so he’d have to be careful. Then again, children were children. How much do they really remember from this age? “My sensei is having a meeting with your grandfather. They’re old friends.”

“Why aren’t you inside with them?”

Another question. 

Suguru crossed his arms over the bottom edge of the open car window. He had to squish his chin a bit against his arm, but even then, he wasn’t completely at eye level with the child in front of him. 

“Because they’re talking about adult stuff.”

“Gross!”

“Tell me about it.” With his tongue out, Suguru mimicked the same gagging reaction that Yuji made, albeit with less enthusiasm. A child would want nothing to do with being forced to sit on the edge of a boring conversation he did not understand. And despite the circumstances surrounding his birth, Yuji was still like most children and thus, his interest in whatever was going on inside his home had gone away completely. 

The teenager sitting in the car outside was much more interesting.

“Are you locked in? This one kid in class, he said that his dad locked him inside the car and— and he almost died!” That… wasn’t a good thing to hear. Especially during this exceptionally hot summer. 

“I think I’ll make it...” Suguru initially shrugged. He soon realized that he should take their conversation elsewhere. There would be little point in keeping Yuji outside if his older counterpart was to leave the house to see him. “If you open the door for me to help me escape.”

Ignoring the fact that the window was rolled all the way down and Suguru’s arms could easily open the door from whatever angle he wished, he didn’t mind playing into a sense of urgency. Satoru was a master at exaggerating his voice, there was no reason that Suguru couldn’t do the same. Feigning weakness underneath the blaze of the beating sun was child’s play. As was hiding a hand underneath the door and texting a warning to those inside about Yuji’s return with one hand.

“But you have to do it quickly, before… I…”

“I’ll save you!”

Suguru had forgotten Yuji’s greater-than-average strength until the small child jumped at the handle and pulled, yanking both the car door and the teenager still leaning on it in one forceful tug. At least there was no damage to Yaga’s car. Without Satoru around, there wasn’t much of a case to be made in convincing their teacher that Satoru should be the one to cover the damages. 

Thankfully, Suguru was able to catch himself before his chin collided with the sidewalk, but that did not stop Yuji from hiding his gasp with his hands and shouting apologies left and right until the teenager was standing properly on his feet. 

A pat on the head should clear up the kid’s concern.

“Look at that. You’re my hero.”

“And you’re very tall… Uh,” Yuji was craning his neck back to look up at him, head tilted and eyes crossed as he tried to remember a name the teenager never gave him. Should Suguru give it to him? The thought had only come after Suguru filled in the blank with the automated response he’d never questioned until now.

“Suguru.”

“Suguru,” Yuji repeated, nodding as he did so. “I’m Yuji! But you knew that— Are you a psy-psy… psy-cycle!?”

“Psychic?”

“Yeah!” Now the child was pointing to his head, eyes squinting in intense focus, though the teenager could not guess as for what purpose. “Mind powers!”

Suguru peered to his right. Then over his shoulder on his left. With the flick of his fingers, he gestured for Yuji to get close as he squatted down to the kid’s level. To sate his own curiosity, Suguru summoned a cursed spirit. A contorted green and purple jellyfish with eyes surrounding the edge of its upper body. The creature was tiny, but just big enough to pick up the rock that had been caught at the very edge of the road and gently float it just above Suguru’s open palm. 

Yuji looked at the display in awe, poking the rock and missing the existence of the cursed spirit entirely just as Suguru suspected. How was it that the vessel of the King of Curses wouldn’t have the sight of something so integral to the existence of other curses? Why was that the case?

“Whoah!”

With a finger brushed over his lips, Suguru whispered even lower while he dismissed the cursed spirit in his hand. “This has to stay a secret between us, alright?”

“Ok! Yes!” Yuji jumped at the higher volume in his voice. To match Suguru, he began to whisper the rest of his agreement. “I can do that, Sugu-san!”

“Good. Now, how about I get you something cold to beat out this heat as a thank you for rescuing me? I believe there was a truck parked a block that way.” Suguru’s thumb pointed behind him, continuing to captivate Yuji’s attention. 

The two walked side by side together, with Suguru slowing down his steps while the child next to him rushed through his. Yuji clutched to the straps of his backpack as he was determined to keep pace with the teenager. Upon noticing Suguru was taking it easy on him, the boy puffed up his cheeks and darted forward as if to say the offer was unneeded. 

Now it was Suguru’s turn to keep up with him, reaching a hand out to grab the top of Yuji’s bag before the kid could run across the upcoming intersection without looking in all directions. No cars were present, but the teenager would be damned if he’d even put fate to the test. Knowing their luck, a car would manifest out of thin air to prove some ironic point. 

“Look both ways!”

“Sorry!” 

“Just… be careful.” Suguru allowed the bag to slip from his hand once he deemed the coast was clear. Just as it had escaped fully from his fingers, the teenager noticed the plush tiger keychain dangling from the side. “Is that a tiger?”

“Roar!” A giggle followed Yuji’s impression of what he believed the ferocious beast to sound like. “They’re my favorite. Grandpa says that Itadoris are tigers, and that’s why we’re so strong.”

“Is that so?”

Suguru received the longest, most excited yet incoherent deluge of thoughts after that. It was his own fault, really, but the bright smile beaming in competition with the sun itself was worth enduring. No face Itadori had made during his entire tenure with them had come close to comparing with his younger counterpart’s energy. Even while they stood in line, Yuji was constantly rocking on his feet or swaying his hands from one side to the other. The contrast was almost too much. 

It would be worth preserving this memory. At least, that was the thought going through Suguru’s head when he lifted his phone to capture the image of Yuji pointing at the sign larger than he was. Different frozen treats were drawn along the sides of the menu, allowing the child to point and describe which popsicle had caught his interest. 

Through the tiny camera of his phone, just after Suguru snapped the picture, a concerning observation made itself unignorable. It was Yuji’s consumption of the cursed finger that awakened the King of Curses to this era. The teenager had said it himself; it was his fault that Ryomen Sukuna was even a problem in the future to begin with. It would stand to reason that the most straightforward way of changing the future would be to remove the vessel, and thus, the King of Curses would remain sealed.

The weakest of Suguru’s curses could accomplish the task with ease. 

To him, the logic was sound. It was the very same logic that argued his distaste for non-sorcerers. To cut the problem at the root would be to prevent it from blossoming in the first place. 

“With all that said, what is it you intend to do about this? You’ve made it clear in your intention to change the future, what easier solution is there if not to get rid of the one piece responsible for so much harm?”

“I have to believe that people are worth saving—That you’re worth saving.”

Itadori had been given the same choice, hadn’t he? The same conundrum of whether it was his responsibility to stop the one whose life and death circled the eye of the impending catastrophe to come. The time traveler sought change just as much as Suguru did. They each looked at the world and saw something intrinsically wrong, yet when it came time to take the most straightforward choice to enact change…

Neither could pull the metaphorical trigger. 

“Sugu-san?” The teenager snapped from his thoughts, blinking a handful of times to catch the message overtaking his screen and the child’s voice clearing away his mental fog. “Can I get this one, Sugu-san?”

“Hm? That bright blue one? Go for it. Do you want to ask the man, or should I?”

“I will! I want to do it!”

“Alright. Let me pull out my wallet. Ask for a popsicle of each flavor and a bag if he was one. I need to bring some back for my friends.”

Being born into such an accursed role was not a sin Yuji should have to pay for. 

“Ok!” Yuji bowed his head, accepting the paper money pressed into his tiny hand. “Thank you so much, Sugu-san!”

“Don’t mention it.” With his phone still out, Suguru glossed over the update from Itadori. Their meeting with his grandfather had concluded. It was safe to return his younger counterpart home. “We’ll have to head back after this. Your grandfather is waiting for you.”

“Already?” Yuji whined. He stumbled on his way back to Suguru, presenting the teenager with a treat to match his own.

“You can put it in the bag with the others.”

“No! You have to eat it now before it starts melting! That’s the rules. My grandfather said so.” It appeared that Yuji’s consideration of others was a trait that had stuck with him since birth.

Unwilling to argue with a child who wasn’t even half his size, Suguru peeled open the plastic wrapping and gave the cold treat a hesitant lick. Yuji’s own bite to break a chunk of his own popsicle followed. 

“I bet your grandfather says a lot of things.” 

“A lot of things.” Yuji huffed. A sudden jolt soon swept through the child's body, along with a sudden outburst that had his face scrunching tight and his feet stopping on the ground. “Ow ow ow—Cold!”

Suguru hadn’t meant to laugh. He had done his best to hold back his chuckle, but he was too late and Yuji was already smacking a hand against his leg for being made fun of.

The rest of their walk went about the same as before. Once Yuji’s unfortunate headache had subsided, he was back to his energetic ranting. This time, his grandfather had become a central focus of whatever thesis he’d been attempting to craft. There was nothing informative beyond the regular activities and scoldings one would expect from a child’s caregiver, which on its own, was at least a good sign the child was being well taken care of. Suguru supposed it was his fault for becoming a bit too invested hoping to learn what Yuji’s older counterpart was about to reveal from his visit. Though, it was until they had gotten close to reaching the Itadori household and Yuji had mentioned how his grandfather had taken him to play ‘the machines with the bright flashing lights’ did Suguru remember no adult was infallible no matter how much their kid sang praises about them. 

“And as long as I’m quiet and no one is looking, I can push this big button a bunch of times because I’m really fast… Oh! This is my house!” Yuji continued walking down the path toward his front door while Suguru remained on the sidewalk just outside the property. He wasn’t abandoned completely, as the kid turned around one last time to wave his goodbyes as excitedly as he could. “Bye Sugu-san!”

Suguru waved back to him, sharing in a reserved smile before sauntering back toward the car which held the ones still waiting for him. Apparently, his decision to move to the front seat earlier was now where he would stay as Itadori had joined his brother in the backseat. Yaga knew how to retrace their route to get back to the school from here.

“Popsicle?” Suguru held up the plastic bag in his hand. When Yaga waved away the offer with his hand, the third-year passed the bag over to Itadori to sift through as he pleased. “You were a very energetic kid.”

“So I’ve been told.” Itadori accepted his offer and picked a popsicle for himself before handing another to his brother beside him. There was a look of mourning for the one left uneaten in the bag, but Suguru suspected that one of them would take care of it later.  “I hope he— I? —didn’t give you too much trouble.”

“None at all. I got to stretch my legs and give the neighborhood a more thorough look around. Nothing came up, so our visit should go unnoticed.” Itadori’s younger counterpart should continue living on as he had during Itadori’s first go around, which meant unless there were any earth-shattering revelations to be had, the entire ordeal of swallowing Sukuna’s finger was still a decade out. There was ample time to prevent it from happening.

“How’d it go with your grandfather?”

“Geto-senpai! Hope you’re having a good day!”

Haibara jogged down the hall of Jujutsu tech’s training building. It was here, within the many empty corridors that Suguru had thought he’d find peace. The late afternoon sun filtered in behind him, illuminating the face of the underclassman shattering said peace all the more blinding. “No way! They had vending machines in this building the entire time and no one told me? All I had to do was use the other door! This sucks… But now that we’re here, what can I get you a drink, senpai?”

“Haibara, there’s no need—”

“I want a coke! Here, take one too.” Ignoring Suguru’s objection, Haibara slammed the button for his drink of choice. The loud clunk of the can falling into view had only drowned the older teenager’s voice further. 

Instead of trying again, Suguru slunk back into his seat and allowed himself to wander into the thoughts which had plagued him before. He’d been unable to let off this steam through practicing with the school’s provided cursed tools and had once again chosen rumination as a result. 

The visit to Itadori Wasuke had given them nothing new to work with. More accurately, it had given Suguru nothing more to work with in learning where Kenjaku may currently be hiding. Itadori had gained some much-needed closure. Suguru may not relate to the same level of attachment the younger teenager had with his grandfather when comparing his own feelings towards his parents, but he could at least express some level of joy in that. 

Knowing that there was a plan in place to warn the old man of his grandson’s fate and their plans to circumvent it was a step forward along the path parallel to his ongoing battle against a body-snatcher who may not be aware of the animosity stemming from a few aware of their existence. Or Kenjaku may very well be aware and all their moves against centuries of planning were pointless. That line of thinking was certainly defeatist, but it was worth considering. 

Someone had to, and if Satoru wouldn’t—No. Stop.

There was no point in repeating this spiral.

Back to Itadori.  

One thing they were capable of was prevention if they acted accordingly. With Yaga’s help and Wasuke’s expected stake in his grandson’s wellbeing, keeping Itadori’s younger counterpart from swallowing any cursed fingers should be straightforward. 

Suguru had wondered if there was merit in just taking the kid and hiding him for several years. Would that work, or just delay an inevitable? Even if they could prevent the curse and vessel from coming into contact, if others found out the reason why certain sorcerers were keeping him under wraps… There was no question that news of another vessel of such great importance appearing would repeat the same events surrounding Amanai Riko. 

A hit would be placed on that child’s head. 

Or a call for his capture.

Kenjaku would surely catch wind of such a horrendous spectacle— 

Before Suguru knew it, instinct had raised his hands to catch the cold drink being thrown at him.

“I’m glad I finally ran into you! That means you and the others are back from wherever you went, at least, everyone aside from Gojo-senpai, but that’s not new. Nothing fun happens without everyone around. Ieiri-senpai locked herself in the nurse’s office again, and Nanami decided to study ‘quietly’ which was so…”

“Quiet?”

“So quiet!” All too eager to agree with him, Haibara sat down on the bench Suguru was occupying as a stream of fake tears threatened to roll down his face and hands now clutching at Suguru’s sleeve. He could be just as handsy as Satoru at times. “And, more importantly, boring! Yaga-sensei assigned homework, but I couldn’t focus on it at all!”

“Haibara, please—”

“I have good news though!” 

Haibara shot up in his seat, hands all over the place as he began talking about the mission he and Nanami had been assigned for tomorrow. His upperclassman paid attention as best he could, relieved to hear that it was nothing either of the pair should be unable to handle when working together. A grade two cursed spirit was nothing to concern himself with. 

“—And it’s going to be pretty far away! I’m actually excited to travel again.”

“You like being in a crowded train?”

“Not everyone can summon a cursed spirit to fly on, Geto-senpai.” Haibara laughed as he popped open his can of coke. “And the crowding depends on the train. I also like watching what we pass through the window, so the surrounding people don’t bother me all that much. Nanami… might complain a bit.”

Suguru contemplated opening his, but ultimately placed it down next to his jacket beside him. “I’ll be expecting a souvenir when you return.”

“You got it! Something sweet or savory?”

“Satoru will probably have some too.” The third-year was too used to his classmate stealing a bit of anything he saw in his hands regardless of what it was. “Maybe something sweet.”

“And what about Yuji-kun? Would he have similar tastes being Gojo-senpai’s student… I want this to be a surprise.”

“I’m sure he’ll appreciate anything you get him, regardless of what it is.” Reminded of Haibara’s immediate and unwavering affection toward their ‘newest underclassman,’ Suguru pulled out his phone as the teenager next to him pondered over his own question. A quick series of taps and a moment of waiting was all it took for Suguru’s message to send and his phone to return to his pocket. At the same time, the buzzing of Haibara’s phone had drawn the younger teenager to his own pocket to look at what he had been sent. 

“NO WAY! YOU DID NOT!”

Now on his knees, Haibara clutched his phone tight while turning the tiny screen toward Suguru in demand of an explanation. He wasn’t afraid to press it close to Suguru’s face either. The older teenager, however, would not budge in any meaningful way.  

“I did.”

“That’s where you guys were this morning? And you didn’t take me!?”

“It wasn’t a field trip.” Suguru glanced around, pressing his senses against the air to ensure their voices weren’t carrying to places where others were present. “Itadori had business with his grandfather regarding… some personal things.”

“Future stuff. Important, time-traveling future stuff. I understand— Why is he so cute? I want to squish those cheeks.” Haibara retreated from his upperclassman, sulking as pinched the air above the screen. “This isn’t fair, Geto-senpai! I want to meet tiny Yuji-kun. And now the rest of us have to wait until he’s older to attend Jujutsu Tech…”

“Ideally, he wouldn’t be attending here at all by then.”

“Why? He’s a sorcerer, isn’t he? Unless you want to send him to Kyoto…?” There was an unexpected amount of panic in Haibara’s reaction. One that had Suguru turning his glance away, unsure how to address it properly.

“Itadori’s circumstances are… different. He wasn’t recruited in the same way as you or I was.” 

Haibara did not know about Yuji’s curse. If the second-year had sensed anything off about his cursed energy, he’d dismissed it, as he’d done with Choso and his senpai before him. Haibara’s judgment of someone did not rest on those types of details, which was why Suguru was confident that if Haibara were to learn the truth about Itadori’s status as Sukuna’s vessel, Haibara’s opinion toward the younger teenager would not change. 

In spite of that, Suguru believed it would still be best to maintain silence on the subject. Avoiding unnecessary risks was important in maintaining control over the years to come.

“What got him and his brother involved in sorcery, which is a private affair I can’t disclose, should not happen again. Measures are being taken for Itadori’s sake to prevent the same instances from happening again. To give this version of him a chance to live a good life.” To free Itadori of the curse that was Ryomen Sukuna. 

“But Nanami and Yuji-kun, they have to be together. Nanami is his— Yuji-kun’s going to need him! You can’t separate them.” 

That was where Haibara’s objection lay. It was Suguru’s own fault for telling him about anything further on Nanami and Itadori’s future relationship. Precisely because Nanami had taken on a mentor status upon meeting Itadori, to then dip into a more familial relationship that the younger teenager no doubt needed after the loss of his grandfather… Haibara must have seen this as tearing them apart.

His underclassman may be right, but in this current year, Itadori and Nanami had no such relationship.

“I can see where you’re coming from because of what we know about the future from Itadori, but you have to understand. This is the best option for him.” 

Suguru leaned forward, hand resting on his knees to keep his upper body from toppling over as he lowered his head. Arguing against such an earnest face was exhausting. 

“Haibara, are you ok with being a sorcerer?” The first question only spawned more, dogpiling the second-year with the weight of Suguru’s inquiry. “Would you really wish this on someone else? You forbade your sister from becoming a sorcerer, didn’t you? Why must Itadori walk the same path, but she’s exempt?”

“I— She’s—” Haibara had sought to answer in haste, but stopped. With a hand grasping his chin, he gave his upperclassman’s words a moment to sink in. Bringing up his sister was a low blow to make, but it would be hypocritical of the second-year to not acknowledge it. “Hm... I’m not really the type to think too hard about things. I know for me, giving my all toward something I know I can help with is a great feeling. Exorcizing cursed spirits saves lives— That’s a fact! —but we all know it’s dangerous. I’d rather not have my little sister get involved when her big brother can work twice as hard instead!” 

A pause followed Haibara’s initial answer as the realization of where Suguru’s original argument had stemmed from matched his own. 

“Which is why… if Yuji-kun’s smaller self doesn’t feel the same way about being a sorcerer or doesn’t even have a reason to be one, we shouldn’t force him to be, huh? It would be better to keep him safe.” Melancholy overtook the room, and while that had certainly calmed the younger teenager’s energy, that didn’t stop the wishful shine in his eyes. “Still, if there is a way for him and Nanami to meet in the future, we should make it happen! Like a secret check-in to make sure little Yuji-kun is doing well. I think future Nanami would be happy knowing his counterpart was helping keep tabs on him. And I bet Nanami would be willing to do it once he learns about all this time travel stuff from Yuji-kun. If it doesn’t happen tonight, then right after we get back from our mission.”

“You really aren’t going to let this go, are you?”

“I’m compromising.” Haibara smiled as he stared off toward the ceiling. “I want those around me to be happy. After seeing those photos of adult Nanami that Yuji-kun took, I know they’re good for each other.”

“I won’t argue with you on that…”

The pair’s conversation came to a sudden close as the sound of heavy footsteps echoed from down the hall. Clunky from the weight of each boot, yet unhindered in ability to keep a solid pace, Suguru looked up just in time to see a woman he had never met before with her jacket tossed over her shoulder while another completed her pose by resting on the back of her hip. She stood over him with confidence, eyes sweeping up and down just long enough for Suguru to confirm that he’d never seen her face at Jujutsu Tech, but she definitely acted as though she’d seen his.

“Are you Geto? I have an important question for you. One could say it's a matter of life or death. Are you ready?” 

The wink did nothing to answer the questions barreling through Suguru’s head. If he was less tired, he’d be willing to demand them before this stranger continued with no thought of stopping.

“What kind of girls are you into?”

“ And what kind of question is that? And who are you—?”

“I like girls with healthy appetites!” Haibara answered without hesitation, earning quite an amused look from the mysterious woman. Although her eyes remained on Suguru whenever opened. How wonderful.

“Haibara…”

“You shouldn’t worry so much, Geto-senpai, she’s not a bad person. I’m a pretty good judge of character when it comes to this kind of thing.”

“Present company included?” Suguru wanted to drown his forehead in his palm.

“Of course!”

And now the woman was laughing. 

“He was being sarcastic, kid.” 

There was something in her stance, the unwavering refusal to leave with just enough to stand her ground in the glare Suguru was giving her. These unspoken words would soon get picked up from Haibara. His underclassman was quick to bow out, muttering something along the lines of a goodbye and a promise to contact Suguru later once he was free. 

“Is he your junior?” The woman plopped herself where Haibara had been, waving him off as he disappeared from sight. “An honest and cute kid. As a Jujutsu Sorcerer, he shouldn’t be so trusting.”

As much as Suguru wanted to object, he knew she was right. Always willing to see the best in people and in possession of a natural upbeat attitude, Haibara had a bad habit of showing his heart on his sleeve. Revealing his emotions, unlike revealing his hand when fighting with Jujutsu, possessed no benefit in their line of work. 

“And you, Geto, aren’t you going to answer my question?”

“How about you answer first? Who are you?” Suguru’s insistence on his answer would not give way to hers and, surprisingly, the woman chose to yield. 

“Special Grade Sorcerer Tsukumo Yuki. No doubt you’ve heard of me.”

“Tsukumo, that’s right. You’re the…” 

“The what?” Tsukumo leaned closer as Suguru pulled his thoughts together. 

“The no-good special grade sorcerer who doesn’t take on missions and just bums around overseas.” 

“I hate Jujutsu Tech!”  

As if personal space was a foreign consent, Tsukumo spread her arms against the backboard of the bench. Suguru could have sworn he’d caught steam pouring from her nostrils as she fell back in an undignified huff. 

Tsukumo Yuki.

Suguru heard her name before. Not just amongst the school staff or from passing sorcerers between their missions, but a more recent mention during a summary of events of a future that had yet to pass. During the closing events of the destruction of Shibuya Station, Tsukumo had made her appearance and confronted who they now know as Kenjaku directly. What had Itadori said when describing their relationship? Kenjaku and Tsukumo weren’t friends… Was there a history there? One that was already in motion, or one in the years to come?

“There’s no need to keep giving me the stink eye, I’m just kidding!” Tsukumo slapped the back of Suguru’s shoulder, knocking whatever face he’d made clean off. “But I’m not lying when I say we don’t get along. What they do here is treat symptoms. What I want is to get at the root of the cause.”

“The root of the cause?” She doesn’t mean…

“I don’t want to exorcize curses after they appear. What I want is a world where curses don’t even exist.” Tsukumo crossed her arms, one finger in the air as she prepared to conduct an impromptu lesson. “Since class is back in session, here’s a pop quiz. Tell me, what do you know about curses anyway?”

Was this a joke? Any sorcerer—beginner or veteran—should be able to explain the basics surrounding curses.

“Curses are created when cursed energy leaks from humans. It then gathers like sediment and takes form.”

“I’ll take it.” Her pointed finger traded places with a raised thumb in approval. She then waved it away in favor of counting down the short list she devised for what came next. “If that's how the world operates, then there are two ways to create a world where curses no longer exist: One, eradicate cursed energy from all of humanity. Two, teach humans how to control their cursed energy.” 

Tsukumo’s logic was straightforward enough to follow so far. But the scope of such a goal would be impossible for either endeavor, or else it would have been attempted before. At least, that was what Suguru thought until his senior continued.

“The first one’s not a bad idea, there was a model case for it after all.”

“A model case?”

“Someone you’re familiar with. Zenin Toji.” How was it, that even in death, the sorcerer killer’s name couldn’t be avoided? “There have been several cases where heavenly restriction has reduced a person’s cursed energy to normal levels, but to eradicate one’s cursed energy completely… I’ve searched all over the world, and he’s the only one who’s ever done it. And that’s not the only interesting thing about him. Despite not having cursed energy, Toji was able to sense curses using his five senses.” 

Tsukumo wiggled her fingers, then pointed to her ear and eye. To cover the last two senses, she stuck her tongue out while flaring her nose. The display was childish for such a serious topic. Similarities to Satoru in their inability to be completely serious were starting to take shape in Suguru’s perception of her, but Tsukumo had nowhere near reached the levels of his classmate’s antics. 

“By eliminating all cursed energy, his body became sharpened to where he developed a resistance to curses. Toji was truly superhuman. Don’t feel bad about losing to him, he had years of practice to make the most of the gifts he was born with. I wanted to research him, but he blew me off every time. It’s too bad he died.”

No, it wasn’t.

Suguru accepted that his opinion was narrow-minded and full of bias regarding the topic at hand. If Tsukumo had spoken any other name, Suguru would have felt more inclined to agree with her disappointment. But the damage that man did in just a few days had been felt throughout the year which followed. Riko. Tengen. Satoru —If that killer had struck Satoru down any further, Suguru would have been burying two bodies instead of one last summer. 

That monkey should not be mourned. 

“Cases of heavenly restriction are few and far between, so my current focus is on option two.” Tsukumo continued. “Did you know that Jujutsu sorcerers don’t give birth to curses? Well, as long as they are killed with cursed energy or go relatively peacefully. Most of our cases will surely be the former.”

Humans die.

Sorcerers die.

More often than not, cursed spirits were to blame.

“The amount of cursed energy that leaks from a sorcerer’s body is extremely low. There’s a difference in how much cursed energy we consume. Originally, the explanation was that we just use more cursed energy because of our profession. Which seems right on the surface. But the real reason lies in how it flows through us. For sorcerers, cursed energy flows heavily within us instead of leaking outside us. Speaking in general terms, if every single human became a jujutsu sorcerer, no curse would ever be born.”

“Or we could kill every non-sorcerer and accomplish the same thing, could we not?” The words, bitter and full of malice, left Suguru’s mouth before he could ever give them thought. At first, his reaction felt to be more of a cruel sneer brought forth from past contemplations and the cautionary warnings he’d been given should he act on them. Even so, it troubled him how easily it came out. And then for his own reaction to cause further alarm— What a mess his mind had become.

“Geto…” He’d expected Tsukumo to look concerned by his response, but she had held a look of contemplation instead. “That is certainly an option. In fact, that might be the easiest route. Weed out non-sorcerers and make them adapt to jujutsu society or be cast aside. In other words, a forced evolution, kind of like how birds grew wings, using fear and danger as a catalyst. But, I ain't that crazy!”

The Suguru of Itadori’s future was. 

Suguru’s eyes widened. The moment stilled as he became acutely aware of every piece of sensory input flowing into his body. This meeting with Tsukumo Yuki, this conversation right here and now—something about it had reverberated through every past conversation about his future as a ripple would disperse across a body of water. 

“Do you hate non-sorcerers?”

There were events that shaped lives. Singular instances in one’s history where all it took was one sentence or a single action to decide one’s trajectory for the years to come. Being recruited by Jujutsu Tech and meeting Satoru was one of these moments. Another was the day they fought Toji. Tsukumo must surely be another.

Was meeting Tsukumo the push that defined his fate, or was there more ahead that he could not see? What answer was he supposed to give that would change his and Satoru’s future for the better? What was the right response? 

What was his honest response?

Why was it so hard for those two things to align?

“Geto?”

“I don’t know.” 

Suguru’s previous silence did nothing to instill a sense of confidence in any immediate answer he could provide. 

“I used to think that Jujutsu Sorcerers existed to protect non-sorcerers, but recently I've been doubting whether non-sorcerers are worth fighting for. The preciousness of the weak. The ugliness of the weak. It’s becoming difficult to see where the difference lies.” Suguru clutched his bangs, peeling back the hair which continued to fall over his face while he continued to push himself into assessing where his heart and mind could make some modicum of peace. “The part of me that looks down on non-sorcerer… The part of me that tries to resist that feeling… If being a jujutsu sorcerer is like running a marathon, then the finish line is too unclear.” 

“Looking down on non-sorcerers, resist that feeling, those are just possibilities you’ve thought of. Whatever your true feeling is, you may not be there just yet, but you’ll have to decide eventually.”

“I thought that I was beginning to understand that the ideals I carried with me when first stepping onto these grounds were wasted on those who either know nothing of who we are and how much we suffer, or they are all too aware and do not care. Now more than ever, just when I think I started to reach a conclusion, something crashed into my life with the intent to upend my world all over again.”

Itadori Yuji, vessel of Ryomen Sukuna. 

His brother, Choso, Cursed Womb Death Painting.

Time travelers from a derelict future built on their failure to stop the impending storm.

Suguru felt as though he’d been standing on a ledge with one foot already teasing the possibility of stepping where there was no longer ground to support his weight. The act of falling beckoned him time and time again, promising movement when all he’d been doing was staying still as retracing his steps would not bring him the peace of mind he sought. The weightlessness one felt when falling, to be rid of the burden of choice once and for all—It was because of those who do not belong in this time or place that Suguru could now peer over the edge and catch a glimpse of what awaited him if he stepped off completely. 

Pragmatically, it was the lack of results that had struck him first. Ten whole years had passed since his counterpart’s defection and there was nothing to show for it, all ending in the grand finale of his death during an event which led him back to this very school to meet his end. It was one thing to joke that his profession would be the death of him, but for the very institution, both literally and figuratively, it was something else entirely.

His future self had not wiped Japan, let alone the rest of the world of non-sorcerers. Curses still existed in Itadori’s time. From the way he described his experience, they were more prominent and powerful than ever. Suguru’s effort, all of it to save the people who surround him less and less each day, culminated in his death. A death with no peace, haunting the very person he cared about more than anyone with the unwilling specter of his visage. 

Satoru did not agree with his counterpart’s methods. They wouldn’t have fought if he had. Taking that same path once more would tear open the same rift which kept them apart with nothing to gain from it.

And then there was Suguru’s own hypocrisy when regarding Itadori and his younger counterpart. 

For all intents and purposes, before consuming Sukuna’s finger, Itadori was a non-sorcerer. Whether under a heavenly restriction or due to being a vessel with a blank slate to which the curse could mold, Suguru could not say. If he were to embark on a path of ridding non-sorcerers for the sake of a curse-free future, leaving Itadori out of it would be in direct opposition. 

Itadori, who’d never stepped foot into their world beyond his birth until the day ignorance had led to the unwrapping of Sukuna’s finger, had chosen to sacrifice himself in a bid to save others. Classmates who Suguru would argue had it coming when they chose to play with forces beyond their understanding. That mentality would remain steadfast over and over. Itadori continued to act in the interests of everyone but himself, indiscriminately of who would benefit.

The child Suguru had met was no different. Itadori Yuji was innocent. Full of energy and excitement for the very world which would soon seek his suffering and eventual demise. Suguru couldn’t bring himself to cut that life short when arguments of sparing the child future pain or preventing the King of Curses’ return. 

Suguru and Satoru were continuously climbing to new heights in their strength. While Satoru may have reached a new peak that far exceeded his own, the power to see that child’s happiness was something they should be able to accomplish. 

They had already failed one vessel.

Why continue to allow history to repeat itself?

“My animosity, as much as it continues to eat away at me, would be better suited when turned toward the system itself, rather than those unfortunate to be born outside it. You’re right to criticize the school and the methods it employs. The elders care little about our struggle of this thankless work. As much as Satoru believes he can usher in a new generation of thought to overtake the values we’ve been forced to operate under… I don’t know if I can sit around and wait for that to happen.”

This system was not worth saving.

Satoru thought it was, if only the skeletal remains after he stripped everything that gave it meaning, with his Trojan horse plan to infiltrate the higher ranks with younger, like-minded sorcerers such as himself. 

Suguru wanted to be there with him. But what ‘being there’ meant was left with no framework to follow. Was he expected to continue his work as per usual? To follow Satoru down a path of teaching when Suguru himself was already so fed up with standing on these very grounds? Would Satoru even be around to ease the pain of enduring each day, or would his piling responsibilities ensure they would never be together no matter which future awaited them?

If curses no longer existed in this world, Satoru may finally know the same peace Suguru longed for.

“I won’t settle for an easy and direct solution. But I can’t take this slow one either.” A weight was lifted from Suguru’s shoulders in admitting so much aloud. He could finally sit straight, taking in his first breath without struggling against his lungs. “I won’t find genuine happiness here. To answer your initial question, non-sorcerers… I can’t keep working to protect them on the principle that they are, by default, deserving of protection. But there is at least one worth saving. Perhaps that means there are more. I think that is reason enough to find a solution that doesn’t write the entire population off if it can be done.”

“I see.” Tsukumo clasped a hand against his shoulder, giving him a bit of a shake on her way to her feet. “I didn’t mean to force that all out of you, but I bet it felt good to get off your chest. Chin up. Sorting through yourself is the first step to doing anything worthwhile or else you’ll end up making more problems than solving them. Take it from me, I have experience with this kind of thing.”

Suguru thought back to the connection between Tsukumo and Kenjaku. The way she’d phrased her words, forcing the evolution of humanity in a hypothetical scenario… The one who overtook Suguru’s corpse sought the same thing, did he not? According to Satoru, who heard it from Tengen… The chances of Tsukumo and Kenjaku crossing paths before Itadori witnessed them together only grew from this connection. 

“Without Toji, do you really think the option of separating people from cursed energy is lost?”

“I wouldn’t say lost. More like, delayed. I’m sure I’ll find another muse again.” The senior special grade sorcerer gestured toward the far end of the hall where the door to the outside resided. “Mind taking a walk with me? A gentleman wouldn’t pass up the chance to escort a lady back to her bike.”

Bike? It’s usually a car in these scenarios, wasn’t it?

Suguru followed Tsukumo, trailing a few paces behind her heels. He wasn’t ready for this conversation to end, as he felt the desire to confirm or deny if Tsukumo’s involvement with Kenjaku was already ongoing. If they had already met and their terms were cordial, he may very well be shooting himself in the foot bringing their name up. If not, then a calculated warning wouldn’t necessarily do harm. 

“I have another question.”

“Shoot.”

“Do you know or have you met someone with a noticeable scar across their forehead?”

Tsukumo stopped, her accumulated energy not lost as she used it to swing dramatically around to face Suguru directly. 

“That’s an oddly specific question.” She placed a finger against her chin, tapping it once before providing an informative shrug. “No, I can’t say I do. I feel like I’d remember a distinct detail like that. Why?”

Suguru was inclined to believe her. The delivery of Tsukumo’s answer was most of it, confused by the image Suguru had brought into her mind. Now that she was intrigued, he may as well continue.

“I suggest you treat anyone you meet with such a scar with a healthy dose of skepticism.” With his handed hidden deep within the pockets of his pants, Suguru let his fists tighten from the anger his words brought. “They won’t be who they say they are and aren’t to be trusted, even if they appear to have goals that may align with your own. What they seek can’t be of benefit to anyone. I’m sure of it.”

“Is this from your own experience?”

“No. Just a warning I received from a friend who has a bad habit of being too honest.” Suguru may trust Tsukumo enough to walk beside her, but he will not name Itadori or Choso. Nor would he mention time travel. “What you’re doing, while it may not be guaranteed to amount to anything, is worth attempting regardless of what the elders claim. If you don’t mind having another no-good special grade sorcerer joining you, I wish to help you make the destruction of curses a reality.”

There was a pause before Tsukumo keeled over in amusement. Not completely, but her hands kept hold of her sides and her mouth would not close as laughter filled the air. Suguru could not tell if this was at his expense or if she’d even taken his offer seriously. But just before he could be insulted, Tsukumo raised a hand out to clutch his shirt and keep herself steady.

“Wait-wait-wait— Hold on! Oh boy, I was not ready for that. You kids are crazy!” Tsukumo lifted her chin, eyeing Suguru with a ferocity that had him taking a step back to continue maintaining his own balance. “You understand, whichever path this road takes, the elimination of curses will change the world as we know it. Special grades like us won’t have meaning.”

“The world is already changing. If it can be changed for the better, then so be it.” 

“I see.” 

The hand on Suguru’s shirt let go, leaving a mess of wrinkled fabric behind. Tsukumo retreated into thought, now back to walking at a faster pace than ever until the pair reached the road circling the outskirts of Jujutsu Tech. It was there that Suguru understood what she had meant earlier when referencing a bike, as a motorcycle parked in front of the bus stop was waiting for them. 

Tsukumo approached her vehicle, both hands reaching for the red helmet hanging off the handlebars. She’d paused from putting it on when making contact with her reflection between her fingers.

“After graduation, come find me. We’ll talk about it then.” 

“Thank you!” 

Suguru bowed, thanking her for her consideration, but it had gone mostly ignored as Tsukumo tossed her helmet in the air to spin it around to then place it over her head. She would make her terms clear while snapping the buckle together underneath her chin.

“And by the way, you’re not my type, so this partnership will be strictly professional. Got it?”

“I wasn’t planning on it being anything else.” Cross at Tsukumo’s insinuation, there was an immediate tinge of regret for Suguru to experience mere moments after making his decision. However, this would not easily deter him. If he’d spent three years dealing with Satoru’s antics, then anything else would be easy in comparison. “Are you really heading out so soon?”

“Can’t get caught by the higher-ups while I’m here, or else they’ll rope me into doing something for them and I have a reputation to uphold.” Googles had now been placed over her eyes, concealing the wink Suguru could feel through the tinted lens. “You know, I was hoping to say hi to Gojo as well, but I guess that was bad timing on my part. As fellow special grade sorcerers, I think the three of us should try to get along. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“I do. I’ll send your regards to Gojo. We’ll keep in touch.”

Tsukumo’s motorcycle came to life, drowning out the surrounding ambiance of windswept leaves and chirping birds of the secluded mountain scenery with a metallic roar. 

“Oh right, one last thing. Don’t worry about what happened with the Star Plasma Vessel. Whether there was another vessel or another vessel was born… whatever happened, Tengen was stabilized.” Her last world acted as the prelude for her departure, leaving Suguru to contemplate the bittersweet not for her to have left on.

“I figured.”

Suguru learned this based on Satoru’s meeting and subsequent summary. Barrier techniques had allowed Tengen to remain as they were, though time would only tell how long this state would hold. Had they known that was an answer all this time… No. There wasn’t any use in continuing to think about the failed merger now that it had come and gone. It was time to move on.

Just as the motorcycle’s engine was about to fade from earshot, a sudden screech of the brakes caught the interest of Suguru’s ears. A glance up from his thoughts would reveal Tsukumo had turned around, braking fast just as she exited the tunnel to swerve almost an entire circle around the teenager before she could make a complete stop. His senior was panting, which meant whatever she had come back for must be urgent.  

“I forgot to get your answer! Geto—” Tsukumo took a deep breath before pointing her finger at his center. “What kind of woman is your type?”

This again?

“Does it matter?” Suguru scoffed, leaving the road in favor of doubling back to where he’d left his things. He wouldn’t leave Tsukumo without an answer, and as such, Suguru waved a hand bidding her goodbye as he shouted over his shoulder. “Even if I had a preferred type of woman, it certainly wouldn’t be you.” 

“Ouch! You really know how to win a girl over!” The offense in Tsukumo’s voice was terribly fake, doing nothing to bring any desire in Suguru to take back his answer. 

Chapter Text

August 2007

Second-year students, Haibara Yu (Grade Two Sorcerer) and Nanami Kento (Semi-Grade Two Sorcerer), depart from the Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College to Akita prefecture to exorcize a Grade Two cursed spirit.

“Just hold still a little longer…”

“Haibara, what are you—”

Click!

A flash of light enveloped Nanami just as he decided to look up from the complimentary travel guide he’d swiped from the station. Right in the eyes, Haibara held a hand over his previous grin in both an avid apology and poorly concealed amusement as his classmate blinked to recover his vision. 

“I’m so sorry Nanami! I was so sure that I turned off the flash…” Haibara’s hands scrambled over his phone, accidentally pressing far too many buttons before he brought up the options menu in order to fix his mistake too little too late. 

“Why are you taking pictures? This isn’t a vacation.” Nanami scolded in the midst of rubbing his eyes. “And what is so captivating that you need to use that thing when our train hasn’t even cleared the city’s outskirts yet?”

“If I say, the professional sorcerer sitting next to me, will you be less mad?” Haibara had leaned in close, his chin practically resting on Nanami’s shoulder to both whisper his answer and attempt to find what his classmate had found equally interesting in the pamphlet he was holding. Sorcerers had a duty to remain inconspicuous and out of the public eye. Just because they were teenagers and anything overheard said could be taken with a grain of salt, that did not mean they shouldn’t be careful. 

“If only there was a professional sorcerer sitting next to me.” 

“Hey!”

With a light shove, Haibara pushed himself away to sulk dramatically against the window by his seat. Their seats had more space between them than their last train, which did wonders for Nanami’s initial mood. His eyes may still have subtle begs below them and his face as strained as his focus was on his distraction from the mild conversation in the air around them, but Haibara could see he was enjoying the downtime before their mission. Knowing this had made his friend’s comment hold less bite. Haibara would still pout, but his mood would not suffer one but as he brought his phone back out to send Yuji the image he’d taken in exchange for a picture he promised to delete as soon as it was received. 

Message sent. 

Foot tapping on the ground. 

Time to stare out the window in wait and— Haibara’s phone shook with excitement in his hand.

A shameless smile spread wide across Haibara’s face. Yuji had moved quickly, leaving Haibara to picture the younger teenager running through the guest house to rummage through his photos in search of the one Haibara had requested. The image the second-year had received was slightly blurry and low quality in relation to when he’d seen it in person, but there was no mistaking the posture of the blond-haired man no matter how distorted. 

Gliding his thumb over the arrows on his phone allowed Haibara to flip back and forth between his photo and the one Yuji sent, nodding curtly to himself as what he suspected to be true was proven right before his eyes.

The two photos were practically identical. 

Well, mirrored. Technically.

But there was not a single doubt in Haibara’s mind. Both his Nanami and the one from Itadori’s future sat with one leg crossed. Their faces held the same stoic expression, but the way their shoulders slouched showed some level of relaxation. The sunglasses were an interesting touch. Looking back on it, however, Haibara recalled the many times he’s caught Nanami squinting while reading the impossibly small text of their school books, so perhaps that was an early sign that proper glasses might be due for him down the line.

Haibara sent another message to Yuji.  

[Yu]

[Some people don’t change.]

Haibara opened the image of future Nanami one last time. He paused on the screen, lamenting the obligation to delete it. But, he had given his word. 

With one click, the image was gone.

“You should style your hair back.” 

“Why?”

“Uh…” Haibara hadn’t registered his own comment until Nanami had responded to him. The thought just escaped all on its own, and now he was forced to think of an excuse as to why. “To keep your… To keep your bangs from falling out of your eyes!”

“Right. And would you be adopting this efficient hairstyle as well?”

Would he? Haibara gave it a genuine thought, unsure if he was willing to part with the easiest hairstyle to brush out after waking up in the morning. Out of the two of them, Haibara was the one to wear his bangs down loose rather than comb them over.

“Maybe? Do you think I’d look good?” Haibara laughed, with fingers running through his hair to provide a mock-up of what he’d possibly look like. If his reflection in the window was anything to go by, it wasn’t half bad.

His classmate paused just enough to give it consideration. 

“You might.” Nanami’s answer wasn’t entirely confident, but it leaned positive. That was all that mattered. 

“Good enough for me!” Haibara swept his hair back a second time, mulling it over before shaking the style loose while settling into a more comfortable position in his seat. 

Both armrests were his to claim, and if he could only close his eyes and bask in this delightful feeling when the sudden lull in their conversation gave way to something obtrusively somber. Yesterday’s conversation with Geto worked its way back into the forefront of his mind. Their exchange of words had left him conflicted, especially after he’d just learned about the events, both fascinating and disheartening, that created the very future Yuji had come from. 

“This isn’t fair, Geto-senpai! I want to meet tiny Yuji-kun. And now the rest of us have to wait until he’s older to attend Jujutsu Tech…”

“Ideally, he wouldn’t be attending here at all by then.”

“Why? He’s a sorcerer, isn’t he? Unless you want to send him to Kyoto…?” 

“Itadori’s circumstances are… different. He wasn’t recruited in the same way as you or I was…”

“What got him and his brother involved in sorcery, which is a private affair I can’t disclose, should not happen again. Measures are being taken for Itadori’s sake to prevent the same instances from happening again. To give this version of him a chance to live a good life.” 

“But Nanami and Yuji-kun, they have to be together. Nanami is his— Yuji-kun’s going to need him! You can’t separate them.”

Nanami was Yuji’s dad… Not in the traditional sense, but he was Yuji’s mentor. The adult he was accompanying one on one for missions! The one he looked up to and respected. Beyond that—Nanami wouldn’t spend time with someone unless he was forced to, or he enjoyed their company. Haibara knew that, and from what those snapshots told him… Nanami appreciated Yuji’s presence more than he’d probably say out loud. 

It broke Haibara’s heart to know that Yuji was mourning someone dear to him. 

The news of his death was one thing. It was a fact of life that would come for him eventually. Sorcerers begin their schooling knowing how they’ll die. Old age or an unfortunate accident won’t be what takes a sorcerer down, it’s the curses they face. In the form of spirits, people, objects… It doesn’t really matter in the end. And despite knowing this, Haibara was content with that. As long as his work as a sorcerer was doing good in the world, that he was making a safer place for his younger sister to thrive in, then there was no need to worry about the rest. But to learn that Yuji was from a time when Nanami was no longer alive and by his side… That was something else. The news felt different, and Haibara couldn’t exactly explain why. 

Haibara could say he was taken aback. Chalk it up to being in a state of shock or the sudden plunge of sympathy he now held for the grieving teenager curled up beside his brother. Maybe it was how, contrary to Haibara’s understanding and acceptance of the life and death being a sorcerer brought, Nanami was someone he viewed to be above that. Like his upperclassman, Nanami was gifted with an amazing cursed technique and the skill to master it. He was going to be someone important. A sorcerer of high regard and the rank to acknowledge. 

Someone with Nanami’s diligence… He outshone Haibara in every aspect from their tests to their practicals. To hear that someone like him would eventually meet the same end… It was hard to believe. Unthinkable. Impossible. 

He would have probably cried a whole lot more if ten years still didn’t seem so far away. Compared to now, it was nothing more than an awful premonition.

“Cool. You’re so—Seriously, I’m really jealous of Nanami right now. Would you be mad if I got to hang out with you guys when little past you grows up? I promise not to third-wheel too hard on your whole mentor-student thing!”

“I don’t even know—If all these changes still lead to Nanami mentoring me, then sure?”

“Oh, it’s going to happen. I’m going to make sure of it. Cross my heart and hope to— Ok, bad choice of phrase there, but you know what I mean!”

Haibara had made a promise. 

A promise he was more than willing to dig his heels in to ensure that his word was kept. And while his senpai would disagree with him… there had to be a way to keep Nanami and Yuji together. So far, that was the one good thing the future had going for it. Just as Yuji deserved someone to fill in the role of a guardian, Nanami deserved to have someone brighten his day or else that frown would remain plastered to his face with no hope of coming undone if future Haibara wasn’t there to pry it apart. Oh, the team he and Yuji would make together to tackle Nanami’s easily disgruntled attitude! There would be no fighting to convince Nanami that being dragged away for a break or to accept an offer to be carried to bed after a long day of work was something he could benefit from! A two-versus-one match, with Yuji’s natural strength and Haibara’s cursed technique? Nanami wouldn’t stand a chance!

Haibara turned his head toward the window. He didn’t stare out the mountainside now rolling past, but at the faint reflection of Nanami behind him. 

How long did Yuji’s Nanami go without him?

Had he taken proper care of himself?

Was it difficult to take Yuji in after?

“Hey, Nanami?”

“Yes?” The aforementioned teenager looked up from his reading to meet Haibara’s somber reflection.

“Do you ever think about having kids?”

“What kind of question is— Where is this coming from?”

“No reason in particular!” Haibara raised his hands as he fell away from his classmate. He recovered quicker than before in order to come up with an excuse to connect the seemingly random subject with something around them. Unfortunately, he only ended up falling back on the tried-and-true method of blaming the sudden wayward thought traipsing across his mind. “I was just thinking whatever thoughts came into my head out loud again.”

“You’re spending too much time with Gojo-senpai.” A deadpan look replaced Nanami’s earlier confusion. He then turned back to his brochure, leaving Haibara to assume that he would not receive an answer until his fellow second-year continued softly against the paper. “The life of a sorcerer doesn’t leave room for a proper family. Between our missions requiring the ability to be on call at all times and to travel anywhere in the country when asked, a sorcerer’s absence from their family would be a detriment. Not to mention the danger this profession brings. Any child would be better off without curses or sorcery. As it stands, non-sorcerers already have enough problems.”

Leave it to Nanami to give a pragmatic answer Haibara couldn’t exactly argue against. Countering Nanami’s stance by defining the hypothetical child as Yuji meant nothing to him, as Nanami was still in the dark about the truth pertaining to their first-year and his brother. 

But at least Nanami’s answer wasn’t an explicit no.

The pair arrived in the city of Akita without delay. 

The Akita’s station was crowded, but nowhere near as difficult to walk through as the one they departed. As per their instructions, Haibara and Nanami followed the movement of people toward the exit in order to find the assistant who would be meeting them. The description they were given said that they should look for a man with waved hair to his shoulders and glasses. Typical suit and tie attire were expected, but no one in the area matched that description. 

“Do we have the location wrong? Or is our timing off?” Nanami pondered while checking the ticking clock strapped to his wrist. This momentary distraction left his classmate ill-prepared for Haibara’s slap on the back.

“Nope! This is the right place, which means we're early!” 

Excited at the prospect to squeeze in a bit of personal time before their car arrived, Haibara darted across the street when there were no cars in sight. He could hear Nanami shouting for him, but that wouldn’t stop Haibara from entering the convenience store that had caught his eye. 

A small family-owned business, if the unfamiliar name and quaint set up was anything to go by. The blast of air conditioning through his shirt underneath what his jacket didn’t cover was refreshing compared to the beating sun outside. A wave to the clerk behind the register came first. What followed would be a quick perusal through the tight aisles until a display of candy and other snacks bursting with sugar, sodium, or possibly both now stood in front of him.

Jackpot!

“Let’s see. Something sweet…” 

What had originally gotten Haibara’s hopes up was the Babahera ice in the fridge. The frozen dessert was a local creation and thus a bit more special than the average snack, it was unlikely to survive the trip home. Not in the tail end of this August’s heat. 

The bell hanging over the entrance filled the store with a pleasant chime. Soft and far from obtrusive, the music playing on the radio might have blended into it enough to be ignored if Haibara hadn’t heard his classmate’s exasperated voice asking the cashier where he’d gone. “Oh! These look good.”

Haibara picked up a package labeled butter mochi being advertised as a local product. A cross between cake and a traditional mochi. That was like, the two greatest things! So these were bound to taste good! 

“Nanami! Look at these! I’m sure Geto-senpai will love it. I guess… Gojo-senpai will.” His classmate’s presence at his side was easy to catch without having to look up from his search. 

“This isn’t the time to be goofing off.”

“I’m not. This is important downtime before our mission. I’m making the most of it.” Haibara argued. He then smacked the packaging surrounding the butter mochi with his hand to prove his point. Once the mission was over, they were going to head directly back to school without a second thought to sightsee. There was no better opportunity for his shopping than now.

“Exactly. We’re on a mission. Act like it.” Nanami pointed a finger at Haibara’s gift. “Where do you plan on keeping those?”

“In the car!” Obviously. Did Nanami think he was going to carry a bag around with him the entire mission? “We’re being sent to exorcize a grade two. It’s nothing we can’t handle when we’re together. Caution is important, but we’re not even close to the spot we’re investigating yet. So stop worrying and help me find something for Yuji-kun. I think it would mean more if you pick it out rather than I get them both the same thing.”

“We should be waiting outside.” Nanami’s mumbled objection fell on deaf ears when Haibara turned the corner to grab a few handfuls of treats he both recognized and had faith in to please. 

“You should also talk to Yuji-kun more. He’s your kohai too! We’re who he has to rely on, and I get you’re not a people person, but,”

“Haibara—”

“—We need to be there for him!” Haibara continued over him in hopes that Nanami would see reason. With how he was acting lately, it was as if Nanami didn’t really care all that much beyond basic pleasantries. Even during their time together watching movies or at the track, he didn’t talk with Yuji all that much.

“He already has you and Gojo-senpai breathing down his neck. Another person won’t make a difference. If anything, it could make things worse.”

“You don’t know that!” Frustrated, Haibara found himself raising his voice. Why would Nanami think that? What reasoning could he possibly have? “How could you make it worse!?”

“Just stop and think, for once—” Nanami cut himself off, a fist forming at his side while Haibara had been forced to step back. He’d seen Nanami annoyed, stressed, and overworked but rarely did he lash out like this. With how things have been lately, regarding the school and their increase in missions, Haibara could only assume he was just adding more to the stress his friend was already dealing with by pushing so hard on the subject. Regardless, it was Nanami who apologized first. “Sorry.”  

He then turned to the clerk, offering a glance of apology before leaning forward to explain why he was so opposed to getting close to, as far as Nanami knew, was their new first year and nothing else. 

“Do you not remember the morning we all met?” Of course Haibara did. It was the same day as their outing to Hachioji. What did that have to do with— “His brother said he was mourning.” 

Oh.

Choso had, hadn’t he?

Haibara had known that for a while now. He even knew who he was mourning and why. And as much as he could understand why Yuji continued to hesitate around Nanami, the thought in reverse had only been met with confusion when it was obvious Nanami had his own reasoning. 

“Those scars on his face, even if healed with the reverse cursed technique, they’re recent. Itadori-kun has just gone through something neither you nor I know enough about aside from the fact that it’s taking a lot of effort to continue acting with a vague sense of normalcy. Whatever circumstances brought him and that— his brother here… He’s easily overwhelmed with just the two of you. I won’t overstep and make it worse.”

Nanami stepped back after saying his piece, intent on returning outside to wait for their assistant as expected of them. Before he left the store, however, Nanami stopped in front of a display that came in from his right. Without a second glance, Nanami grabbed the topmost package from one of the baskets and tossed it back toward Haibara. 

“Kashipan. There is very little that can go wrong when choosing a flavor of sweet bread. There are a few fillings to choose from.”

It would seem that Haibara was poorly mistaken.

“You think so?” Haibara scooted over to sift through what else the display had. From matcha to chocolate to other jam fillings. These would do nicely. “Nanami's so considerate. I should have known better. Sorry for being pushy.”

“It’s alright. You get too caught up in your excitement sometimes.”

He was right. Nanami was never big on loud, proclamations of affection or even interest in people, places, or otherwise. Being such a reserved person, it only made sense that this was the conclusion that his classmate had come to. 

“Do you really think I’m being too pushy with Yuji-kun?”

“No.” A sigh came out as Nanami adjusted the bag hanging over his shoulder. “I believe, along with Choso, you and Gojo-senpai are giving him what he needs right now. If he had a problem, he would have said something or made an effort to run off. Case in point… I get the feeling that I set him off when we first met, somehow. It’s not my place to ask why, but I think keeping my distance until he’s inclined to speak with me on his own is the best course of action.”

So perceptive.  

For Haibara to know the truth about Yuji and future Nanami was to experience the unbearable task of refraining from sharing it. For the answer to be on the tip of his tongue, just waiting to come out, it took everything in Haibara’s power to fight back against blurting it out. But even then…

“Nanami—”

“There you two are!”

Both teenagers whipped their heads around to the man half-fallen against the front door and shouting in their direction. 

Wavy hair. Glasses. Suit and tie.

This must be—

“For a moment, I thought we may have lost each other, but I saw you both through the window. I’m Watanabe Osuke, I’ll be your assistant for this mission.”

“Nanami Kento, and this is Haibara Yu.” Nanami introduced the pair before gesturing for both himself and Haibara to bow. “We’ll be outside in a moment. Apologies for making you wait.”

“Accepted.” Their assistant checked the time on their phone. He wasn’t all that concerned, in spite of the tired, dragged-out look on his face. Then again, that look was standard amongst the assistants as of late. “We’re making good time today, so don’t feel rushed on my account. We have a long drive ahead of us.” 

The plastic bag containing Haibara’s snacks for the road and gifts for his friends remained tucked in the corner of the backseat. Watanabe’s car was the same standard model issued to all assistants through headquarters, leaving plenty of room for Haibara to make himself comfortable as Nanami had taken the front seat to keep an eye out on the road. 

Travel by train had taken four hours. Noon had already come and gone, and there was still another ninety minutes of travel time left by car. They were expected to arrive at their destination by midafternoon. Not terrible, but considering their travel time, this means they won’t be returning to the school sometime in the night or early morning depending on how long their mission takes. 

Damn.

Navigating Jujutsu Tech’s campus was always a pain at night… And that was assuming either of them were even half-awake.

“Have you taken the time to report I sent over to your sensei?” Watanabe’s question prompted Haibara to move toward the edge of his seat. With an elbow resting on either side of the front seat’s shoulders, he was really stretching how far his belt would go to be as involved in this conversation as possible. 

Report?

“I have.”

Huh!?

Nanami lifted a small manila folder into the air with an all too familiar brochure poking out behind it. Had his classmate been carrying it the whole time? How did he miss that?

“Then this review shall be a bit dry, but I find going over the details more than once both beneficial to the mission and a good way to pass the time. I can also offer any clarification if you need it.”

“Thank you, Watanabe-san. Shall I…?”  

His classmate’s words faded out just as Haibara had lowered his head to sigh in relief. A quick wave of Haibara’s hand assured Nanami he was alright to proceed, eager even, as this was very important information he should have read from the start. It was only now that Haibara remembered where his copy of the report was, sitting ever so neatly on top of his freshly made bed to collect dust in his absence. 

“Very well. Our mission is the investigation of a small town on the verge of complete desertion. Widely considered a ghost town by the few news stories that have covered it over the years, the residential population is on a sharp decline with less than three thousand residents during the last census conducted. The majority of the population is in their adult years, with further decline projected as residents age out without a sizable younger generation to replace them.”

“Three thousand is still a lot, isn’t it?” Haibara held out his fingers in a poor attempt to make sense of a number of that magnitude. Trying to imagine just a hundred people in a room was already difficult enough, but a thousand? That was what? A small convention?

“The town was skipped during the 2005 census. Seven years is a large enough gap to ensure that this information is outdated.” Which meant the population could have been reduced even further since then. Nanami flipped to the next page and continued, though he did not need to read from it directly. “The disappearances started in 2000, but many weren’t officially reported until recently, which prompted a deeper investigation into how long this phenomenon has been occurring.”

Disappearances? When it came to locales haunted by cursed spirits, those weren’t uncommon. 

“And Watanabe-san was able to figure out more?”

“Yes, but there is a bit more background to go over first.” Their assistant merged onto the exit ramp leading to the exhaustive stretch of road they would take for the next hour. Traffic went from tame to mild in a matter of minutes, making it clear just how far they were about to travel from the prefecture’s more densely populated area. The road would get quiet soon. “The internet has allowed information to spread across the country and even beyond our border with unprecedented ease. What was once a small, and relatively unknown town beyond those who lived nearby and within has now been cast as the face of many abandoned homes and villages within Japan. This phenomenon of property abandonment isn’t anything new. As younger generations continue to flock to the cities for opportunity. But, now that what has been left behind is being shared, urban explorers and occult enthusiasts are flocking to these places to see what oddities await them. It’s an enticing spectacle that draws victims in. Now,” 

Watanabe tapped his finger along the page in Nanami’s hand, guiding their eyes through the next stretch of their briefing. A list of names and a clipping of photographs in the corner of the page were but a sample of the people who haven’t returned from Akita’s dwindling town. 

Haibara reached out to flip through them, knowing these were faces that were less likely to be seen again the further he dove back through the years. At least, there was some kind of trail leading to where they met their end. That was something their families could be told when headquarters decides on what lie to tell in place of a far more gruesome truth.

“Tracing back the reported disappearances reveal a pattern of disappearances roughly three months apart. Many of those involved were urban explorers or traveling backpackers assumed to have gotten in over their heads. Rarer cases were of those simply wishing to run away from their current lives and thought a quiet town would be a pleasant change of pace. The summer shows an increase in these reports in addition to a noticeable pattern forming throughout the rest of the year. The longest gap between disappearances is exactly three months. No more, no less.”

A minimum of four people a year for almost seven years. 

How many was that? 

Nineteen? Twenty? 

And that’s not even accounting for—

“More people have free time in the summer, right? And the weather is nicer to travel in if they’re coming all this way.” Haibara thought that would at least explain the uptick in cases during the summer. 

“That is true.” Contemplation followed as Watanabe slowed down before the sharp turn ahead of them. The mountain road carried its own set of precautions, but there was little to worry about so long as the day remained full of sun and the tires free from any blowouts. 

“If you don’t mind me asking…” Haibara slid back against his seat, arms crossed and head tilted all the way back to think through the information so far. He was getting irritated, which didn’t suit him one bit. “I don’t want to be rude, but if these disappearances have been happening all this time, how’d it take this long for this to get onto Jujutsu Tech’s radar? Shouldn’t this have been caught sooner?”

Nanami glared at Haibara through the rearview mirror. If this were any other case of disrespect, his classmate would have scolded him by now. But he shared the same criticism, and thus, held his tongue in wait for Watanabe’s answer. 

“Normally, you’d be correct. But lack of proper staffing has, unfortunately, pushed these more remote cases off to be dealt with at a later time.” Their assistant sighed. With a press of a button, Watanabe rolled his window open to let in a light gust of air. “In all honesty, we wouldn’t be investigating now if it wasn’t for the most recent disappearance of a couple who were recording and posting their urban excursions to their personal blog which has grown in popularity since being shared through Western forums. Their last post noted their plans to visit the same place we’re going to now, and that was two weeks ago. Regular posting should have resumed and, obviously, it hasn’t. We have been reached out to investigate what happened before others begin following in their footsteps. Especially foreigners. An international incident is just what the country needs right now.”

Ah.

That made sense. 

Nanami and he were running preemptive damage control. 

It stung to know the reason for their involvement had its roots in whom the victim’s were rather than the scope of the case in of itself. Not that anyone was undeserving of receiving help, but Haibara wouldn’t lie to himself and say sorcerers were dispatched around the country equally. 

The consolation of each successful mission was what kept Haibara going. One less cursed spirit meant one less future victim. He couldn’t control where he was sent, but at least he had a say in how his missions ended. 

“Given two weeks have passed, the bloggers are most likely dead. We’ll attempt to find bodies to confirm, but we’ll make no promises.” A grim assertion, but Nanami was usually right about these sorts of things. “Your report says all the disappearances were from outsiders. Not a single person who lives there has been reported missing?”

“If anyone from town has gone missing, no paperwork has been filed. You already know that there’s no consensus information to confirm how many have died or moved away in the last few years or so to evaluate for confirmation. I was lucky enough to get a hold of these files when contacting their police department. They’ve been keeping track of these missing person’s cases as they rolled in. For the most part, they’ve been cooperative, if not a little weary of us city folk.”

“Do you think they’re in on it?” Haibara let the thought out half-baked, not entirely sure what he’d meant by it. Maybe it was supposed to explain the delay in reporting the news to higher authorities once there were more than just a handful of disappearances in one particular area. Or maybe it just made the case more complex than it needed to be.

“A greater conspiracy?” Watanabe let out a hearty laugh. “Perhaps, but I have my doubts. Most of Japan’s population can’t perceive or invoke cursed spirits. With such a small population for this town to pull from, I’m inclined to believe that the shrine west of the town’s center… That’s responsible for drawing people in. And it’s doing it all on its own.”

Haibara perked up at this.

A shrine was a specific location that beat out searching aimlessly through a ghost town shouting and making noise until the cursed spirit showed itself. 

“Abandoned and falling apart, that building has been around longer than the town has. Information on it is scarce. I couldn’t tell you what deity was meant to be worshiped there, and no local I’ve reached out to has been willing to speak with me about it, which only adds to the mystery. If I were a decade younger and eager to explore an abandoned building in search of spooks, that’s where I’d go.”

“Watanabe-san’s report noted that cursed energy collected around it, creating its own form of unseen miasma by the residents.” Nanami directed the next part at their assistant, “You believe the cursed spirit responsible for the disappearances resides there. Should I assume that’s where you’re guiding us?”

“Bingo.”

“I’m dropping you off here.”

Watanabe pulled the car up against the sidewalk. What point there was in doing so when both the road and sidewalk were vacant as far as they could see… Haibara assumed it was out of habit more than anything else. 

“We’re just outside the town’s center. I thought it would be best to avoid garnering as much attention as possible with your arrival. Sound travels far when everything else is unbelievably silent.” As if on cue, the slam of the vehicle’s back door by Haibara’s hand sent a shockwave of sound down the road. One that had both him and his classmate flinching as the birds perched on phone lines overlapping the street corner shrieked as they flew off. All the while, Watanabe continued to lean back in his seat as if to say ‘I told you so.’

“The connection out here is spotty, but be sure to call me if you need anything. I’ll drive over immediately. Traffic ain’t an issue.” 

The last bit was supposed to be a joke Haibara could smile at, but Nanami would show no such amusement. His classmate was in work mode, and it was about time Haibara followed and acted accordingly. He waited for Nanami to join him in front of the driver’s window before giving the man their thanks.

“Thank you, Watanabe-san.” 

“Remember, your mission is to find the cursed spirit involved and exorcize it. Anything beyond that is not your concern.” Their assistant pointed to the base of the hill further down the road. “Take a left at the intersection and keep walking. You’ll see the grounds to the shrine shortly. The edge is overgrown, so take a right and follow the edge of the property until you reach the entrance. Any questions?”

“Will you be alright sitting out here on your own?” Just because the town appeared abandoned, that didn’t mean there weren’t other things beyond cursed spirits to worry about. An uneasy feeling had grabbed hold of Haibara’s shoulder, and no matter how much he wanted to swipe at it to go away, there wasn’t anything right about this place.

His jacket didn’t help against the chill riding the air. Even Nanami was clutching the edge of his collar to cover his face against the breeze.

“I’m an adult, so that means I can handle myself. Not to mention, I have a few talismans in the glove box in case something ever comes up.” Watanabe gestured to the compartment without concern. In a way, that served to lessen the pressure on Haibara’s end. Their mission, boiled down to its base, was an exorcism of a cursed spirit they already knew the location of. This was going to be easy. “You don’t need to worry about me. Focus on yourselves and get a move on. There’s still a fair amount of daylight left. Take advantage of it. Curses are weaker during the day.” 

And with that, Watanabe rolled his window up, indicating that this conversation was over. 

Haibara kept pace by Nanami’s side as they followed their assistant’s directions. His classmate took the lead, leaving Haibara’s eyes to wander from one boarded-up window to the next, with many of the glass panes harboring layers of dust on the other side. Posters, advertisements, and other notices held dates that ranged from a few weeks to well over a year old. Their colors washed out. Tape residue clinging to empty splotches where something used to be before the rain and snow tore away anything that had been hung on the building’s exterior. 

There were noticeable cracks in the pavement to watch out for. Overgrown weeds and determined saplings took root in such places, while wayward vines crawled up the sides of an old post office next to what may have been a small park if the chipped bench and rusted swing hidden in the grass were anything to go by. 

One car stood between the pair and their destination. Haibara couldn’t help but deviate from his partner to poke his head in to inspect it. It was an older model from the eighties with its wheels replaced with cinder blocks and the front hood popped open to reveal no engine inside. The seats were torn, looked to be torn by the claws of a couple of small animals slowly eating away at it for nesting material. 

As Haibara raised his head, neck through the hole where a complete window used to be, he noticed a shadow of movement within the apartment window across the street. Average height and human-shaped, he’d caught the silhouette just as the door beside it was yanked into its frame. 

“Nanami. Was that—?”

“Leave them. They probably don’t care for us poking around here any more than we want to be.”

As much as Haibara thought engaging with them would be beneficial, Nanami was right. They already had a target that acted as their first priority. But that didn’t stop Haibara from catching further movement in the edge of his vision. Whether it be by human hands, such as a curtain falling, or the natural rustling of tree branches in the wind, to be subjected to the feeling of being watched under the scrutinous gaze of an unknown number of people as they continued through the lifeless street below their homes… It induced this performance anxiety Haibara didn’t know he had. Like having to take a test he didn’t study for, his hands were becoming jittery as the rest of his body demanded they pick up the pace until the property they were after came into view. 

Yet, even after vacating that street corner in its entirety, the feeling of eyes hovering over him did not let up. 

“This is the place…?” Haibara’s comment came with enough uncertainty to be labeled a question rather than a statement. 

The pair stood outside a faded torii, acting as the gate between the street and the dirt courtyard hosting the entrance to their quarry. Any overgrowth from the planted trees and weed-infested flower beds encircling the lot which had no issue spreading over crumbling walls and into the street had stopped a meter into the courtyard, as if intentionally avoiding the path between the building and those who wished to enter it.

Two statues, about as tall as the teenagers when including their base, faced the entrance. Or rather, what remained of them. Either dogs or foxes, the tails of each had fallen off into scattered pieces of stone behind them. The statue on the right was missing its top half completely, while the other suffered degradation in various splotches leaving nothing but the torso with vague indicators that it once had been chiseled and full of detail some odd years ago. 

The same black and red paint used for the torii was present on the shrine itself. Equally worn, the building appeared in better shape than those surrounding it until further inspection with a hand-over Haibara’s head to block out the sunlight allowed him to notice the many cracks and missing tiles of the roof. 

“This reminds me of the Inari shrine we visited last month in Tokyo. But this one is way smaller… Say Nanami, those lanterns hanging across the courtyard—” Haibara’s words guided his classmate’s gaze upward. “—Those look new, don’t they?”

Three rows of lanterns hand along the lines crossing back and forth above the stone path. Primarily white with red accents, no text is written on any as far as Haibara could tell. The paper was close to pristine, with only minor abnormalities from when the wind picked up to fill the air with a dozen chimes near the building’s entrance. All swung at their own pace, each chime more out of tune than the last. 

“The building itself is in disrepair, and yet there are new decorations laid out. It must not be as abandoned as Watanabe-san suspected.” Nanami looked around, giving the area one more preliminary sweep with his eyes before stepping through the torii. 

Haibara had expected something to happen, as if the crossing would signify anything noteworthy, but when the world remained the same as it did before it, he sighed. One foot, then the other. Haibara followed Nanami three more steps until his classmate held out a hand to stop their advance. With two fingers and his thumb raised, Nanami spoke the necessary incantation to deploy a curtain to conceal their work.

“Emerge from the darkness, blacker than darkness. Purify that which is impure."

As expected from someone on track to receiving the recommendation to be elevated to a grade one sorcerer, Nanami’s curtain descended over the shrine without problem. In less than a minute, day became night, and the surrounding town left their thoughts as there would be no interference from the non-sorcerers. Accidental or otherwise.

“Amazing! You’ve really nailed that down, Nanami!” Haibara briskly clapped his hands, only to stop when Nanami turned around to respond to him. 

“And how is your own progress coming along?”

“Me? We’re focusing on you right now!” Haibara laughed off having to admit his own lack of training. He averted his eyes as he did, only to come into contact with a scattered line of people standing within the overgrowth. “Nanami—!”

Both teenagers jumped back, Nanami unsheathing his tightly bound blade while Haibara raised his fists in preparation for a fight that never came. 

A couple of blinks to adjust their eyes was all that was required to realize what they were looking at was humanoid, but not living. A line of scarecrows lodged into the earth with no faces with what were once white kosode’s now a dirty shade of tan draped over the arms and torsos. Had they been there the whole time?

“They were always there, yeah?”

“Just as the lanterns were always lit?” Nanami responded, pointing at the array of lights above illuminating the path before them. “This is certainly not a mission for second-years. Let’s get this over with.”

Little strength was needed to pry open the front doors to the shrine’s interior. Both teenagers expected resistance, but to the contrary, the building greeted them inside.

What awaited them were dozens of candles littered about wherever the floor met a wall or the skeletal remains of the screen dividers which further divided the building’s interior. Offerings of decomposing fruits and vegetables, rotting grain, and filthy bottles of sake interspersed these lights, as did trays filled with loose change and other personal effects. These ranged from pictures, clothes, children’s toys, and utensils made of precious metals or other jewelry. Anything perceived to have value had been left for whatever spirit was thought to inhabit this place.

In the center of all this lay an altar of decaying wood. Light from the outside filtered in through the gaps in the roof, shining over the muddled statue placed behind it. It looked to be partially melted clay. A poor man’s attempt at mimicking what a human should look like, lacking any detail behind the general outline of the head, shoulders, and lumps for what Haibara assumed were the arms and legs. He wanted to laugh, but truthfully, Haibara doubted he’d do much better if he were tasked to sculpt someone… Besides adding a face. Even a poorly etched smile would do. 

“I didn’t see any candlelight through the cracks in the walls when standing outside, did you?”

Haibara shook his head.

“Nope. Candles like these are small. Even as a group, the light outside could have covered them. Still, all these candles are kind of a fire hazard. Should we blow them out?”

“With how many there are,” Both Nanami and Haibara turned away from one another to peer down opposing halls. “It would be a waste of time. Most of the wood in this building’s construction is damp to the touch. Lighting it ablaze would be difficult. We should remain focused on finding the cursed spirit. I’m not sensing anything in this room, so I suspect it’s further in.”

“The building looked like a giant rectangle from what I could see over the trees. I think this hall should wrap around the center like a doughnut.”

“Are you sure that you want to split up?”

“This place isn’t that big. If we each take a wing, we’ll meet up at the back half having covered most of it.” Haibara raised his hand, palm open. “High-five for good luck?”

“Shout if you need me.” Nanami reeled his hand back before engaging in a proper collision of their palms. Both hands stung from their antics, but the sound of the smack they made was just as satisfying as the burst of cursed energy flowing through their bodies. “Don’t engage unless you have to.”

“I won’t!” 

“I know it’s vague, and we have no answers to how or when, but you could be more careful? Take fewer missions? Obviously, we’ll be keeping an eye out too… just, don’t die. That’s an order from your senpai.”

“An order from my senpai, huh? I have no choice but to listen.”

Haibara was going to play it safe.

Efficient, but safe.

Neither wished to push the activation of Haibara’s cursed technique to last longer than what was necessary, and so, a second exchange took place. A silent nod of confirmation from each, both determined to locate their target and bring this unsettling excursion to an end.

Now alone, Haibara took his senpai’s words to heart while inhaling a large breath of air to curb his eagerness to rush down the hall. Already making his first big mistake, Haibara found himself quietly choking on the stale taste he’d brought into his lungs. The cold air from before reappeared in the form of a draft sweeping through Haibara's ankles. All this created a recipe for a stumble in Haibara’s footwork, but that wouldn’t stop him from regaining his bearings to move further inward as planned.

It was all he could do now that Nanami was no longer in sight.

“Where oh where could this cursed spirit be hiding?” Haibara muttered to himself while eyeing the lights on either side of his path. The candles remained stagnant, only flickering when he drew near. The only noise to be heard was that of his own making. Each footstep brought with it the creaking of floorboards or the threat of something snapping underfoot. 

Haibara's left marked the first place of interest. Gaps in the walls and a broken shoji outlined where the hallway ended and the room began. Nothing stood out within it, but what had caught Haibara’s attention was the evidence of something further in the darkness ahead. More rooms caught in shadow, visible through the ripped paper panels and hanging fabrics with just a faint enough glow within it all to taunt Haibara into stepping in further. 

The teenager refrained from crawling through whatever hole he could find, assuming that the next turn would lead him down a corridor running parallel to the series of rooms awaiting him. 

He was right. Longer than he’d anticipated, the candles and offerings continued down this path in consistent frequency with what he’d seen so far. What surprised him was the sheer lack of anything else. Moving forward revealed another empty room after with no sign of furniture or additional illumination to make anything beyond the hallway viewable without structural damage to let in more light. 

A flashlight would work wonders right about now.

It was no wonder then, that when Haibara found a working shoji screen to slide out of his way, his first reaction to confronting the shadow of another, he’d jumped back into a fighting stance as he’d done in the courtyard. One foot in front of the other, arms raised, prepared to strike a blow with either his fists or heel in retaliation if need be. 

“Take this— Wait.” Haibara fell back on one foot, doing his best to keep balance as he assessed the person in front of him. “Another clay person?”

In the center of the doorway stood another statue, standing in attention just like the one by the front entrance. The details were just as lacking, though the outline of the arms was more defined. There were even slits between the body’s elbow and torso to provide additional distinction and upon crouching down, the legs were carved into the same way. Huh.

“It’s almost like you were waiting for me to open this door!” Squinting, Haibara let his accusation simmer in the silence as if the statue was going to make an attempt to defend itself. When nothing came of it, Haibara returned to his full height and cocked his head around to see if there was anything in the room behind the statue worth noting. 

Nope, and nope.

There wasn’t even a noticeable spike in cursed energy to follow. The shrine as a whole had this layer of cursed energy coating every piece interlaced with the expected dust and grime, but there hadn’t been a sign of any congealed mass that a cursed spirit would create. If only he had his senpai’s eyes. Gojo would have seen through this building and taken out the cursed spirit in a heartbeat. 

“Ok, Sorry for bothering you, but I’m going to go now.” An awkward wave followed an even more awkward closing of the screen. Haibara let out a sigh and proceeded further down the hall, only to curse as that would not be the last clay person he came into contact with. 

Two more were found standing in the room behind him. Same pose. Same messy features. 

An additional three were in the next room over, and another was tucked in the corner in the fourth, all appearing to have been placed haphazardly without rhyme or reason. This time, however, there lay a mess of clay arms and legs at its feet. 

It was becoming harder and harder for Haibara to laugh away his uneasy nerves tightening around his neck. He refused to even think about taking another step into the fourth room, backing away slowly to do the same method as he had before of ignoring the eerie statues. Only, he was no longer alone in what he’d come to believe as an empty hallway. 

His initial assumption had been that Nanami had caught up with him, making further progress than he had while avoiding the same distractions in order to complete the loop. However, the figure he saw was standing in the direction where he’d originally come from. On top of that, the teenager was looking at yet another clay figure which took up a sizable amount of the hallway’s width. There was no way Haibara would have walked past it without remembering the act of squeezing by it while also avoiding setting his pants on fire when stepping over the candles on either side of it. 

“I’m starting to get the feeling that I’m still being watched.” A quick breath in, a quick breath out. Screw the shitty air. Haibara was not going to give in to his desire to turn tail and feel just yet. Not when there was—

“Gotcha!”

Haibara ducked, his whole body curling inward into the fetal position just above the ground, only to spring back up the moment he felt the clay figure swing over his head. It slugged the wall, embedding its hand into the fractured wood, leaving it open for Haibara’s brutal swing. 

A backhand strike shattered the surface of the statute. The cracks spread as it forced itself to move, uncanny in how the clay appeared to mold and bend just enough to allow stilted, yet animated movements where there should be none. Another left-handed jab complimented the previous strike, shattering what remained above the creature’s torso and rendering it inert as far as Haibara could tell. 

This assumption wouldn’t drive Haibara into feeling secure, but he would smirk at his good work.

Ever aware of the danger in his work, Haibara remained bouncing on the balls of his feet. His body continued moving as he accepted what was happening in front of him, coming to terms with the animated clay people before his eyes just as another attacked him from behind. 

One kick from his right leg broke the right side of his next opponent. His own heel became lodged around where he suspected the hip would be, leaving him stuck in place as he bent over backward on one foot to dodge the incoming fist through the shoji he’d left open. 

“I should have become a ballerina.” Haibara shouted as he grasped the arms of the third clay figure standing just out of the hall. 

With something to ground him, he yanked his leg free before slamming his foot back into the second figure until it too crumbled under the impact. Sweat dripped down his face, the salty taste brushing against his tongue as the teenager acknowledged that this was the first time he felt the heat of summer since they entered this creepy-ass town. It wasn’t the burning of his muscles that caused the sweat, his own cursed technique ensuring he shouldn’t have an issue as he stared up at the enemy still within his grasp.

No.

It was the number of statues he’d counted while passing each room by. If the cursed spirit was simply animating them, that meant they were finite. Manageable. If they weren’t—

“Shit!” Haibara shoved the statue out of his hold, only finding a modicum of delight in watching it break upon hitting the floor as the other shards around his feet began to melt, pool, and merge with one another to form new animated creatures to fight on the cursed spirit’s behalf. “That has to be cheating!”

At that, Haibara ran past the initial statue that sought to block his path. Whether he should have pursued the front of the building or back, he didn’t have time to think clearly as his attention soon turned toward where Nanami was most likely to be. There was safety to be had in numbers. The cursed spirit understood this well when making their pottery army. Haibara was determined to outspeed the unit which had previously surrounded him, but by the time he’d faced front and center in the direction of his feet, a clay fist clocked him in the jaw. Pain erupted not only in the cracked bone and bruised muscle tissue, but all throughout his back from colliding with the wooden frame of the wall the attack had thrown him through. 

The world spun for a moment, candles bobbing at his feet while he struggled to agree on whether there was one clay figure standing over him or two. Maybe three… Fuck. He was bleeding. The gash on his face, from jawline to the center of his cheek, stung the moment Haibara tempted to press his fingers against it. It wasn’t a deep wound. It didn’t have to be. All it had needed to accomplish was damage to his concentration and the ignition of his fury.

“Haibara!”

Nanami!

Crawling to his right, Haibara flipped himself over as the clay statue attempted to land another blow with a brutal stomp where he once had been. The ground shook from the strike, sending dirt and other sediment outward while a cascade of dust obscured the air from above. There was visible damage from the recoil, but unlike the previous statues he had already faced, the clay figure appeared more durable. Denser. And rather interestingly, its features were defined. Instead of a lumpy hand with the assumption of fingers between divots in the clay, Haibara had felt all five fingers— he’d felt the proper shape of a hand —when he’d been hit. 

Were they evolving?

Did this mean whatever cursed technique used to shape them was incomplete?

He would leave this for Nanami to figure out as he clamored to his feet. The ever-present candles on the ground acted as a guide while his brain pounded against the inside of his skull. Like lights on a runway, Haibara followed them with quick glances to either side of him to avoid being caught off guard again. 

A sharp left turn greeted Haibara at the end of the corridor. His feet skirted against the ground, slipping on the moisture which had seeped into some of the flooring as he passed through without falling completely. It was here that he caught sight of Nanami running his way. The buttons of his uniform and his blond hair reflected enough light emanating from the ground to prove that this was not another statue intent on getting in his way. 

 The pair of sorcerers collided in the center of a four-way intersection. This should have been impossible, given the building should have ended. There was no way a corridor as long as the one Haibara had walked through was able to extend into where the entrance hall should be without initially being seen. When whipping his head in the other direction, the same hall extended so far that there were no indicators of where it ended. Shadows draped over the interior in patches while small bursts of light could be seen through the wrecked walls and screens separating the rooms. All this served to give the illusion of a repeated pattern of halls as far as the eye could see. Whether that was true or not…

“What the— Nanami!” Haibara shook away his recent observation, finding more value in informing his classmate of the enemies coming their way. “Nanami, the statues. The clay people, the cursed spirit—”

“—The cursed spirit is creating them. I saw. Are you ok? Your face—”

“—My face? What about your arm!?” Deflecting his own injury came naturally while pointing at the tear in Nanami’s left sleeve. It looked as though he’d raised the arm to defend himself, and got cut in the process. With no sign of his white shirt poking out underneath, the dark color could only be from one thing.

“I’ll manage, now get behind me!” 

Nanami shoved Haibara aside with his bad arm, noticeably clenching his jar through the pain as he lunged at the statue which had snuck up on Haibara from behind. His classmate’s cursed technique facilitated the creation of a weak spot for him to cleave through. The increase in durability Haibara had witnessed before was still no match for Nanami’s strike, and the creature was blasted apart as a consequence. 

“There’s a barrier at work. The halls, the building— It’s all starting to repeat. Iori-senpai had mentioned experiencing something akin to this last year.”

“I heard the story, but the cursed spirit hadn’t attacked them directly.” Haibara stood in the center of the intersection, eyes flickering between the bubbling of mud rising up through breaks in the floorboard before extending upward into the mangled humanoid shapes he was starting to grow tired of seeing. “The curse we’re fighting and its technique, it’s getting stronger. I think it’s evolving. What are the chances that this isn’t just a barrier?”

With a step back, he dodged both fists, watching them smash together in a morbid fist bump as they sought to crush the space where his head had been. Nanami raised his blade, and Haibara did the same with his hands, each infusing their attacks with cursed energy to send a shockwave through their targets with each consecutive strike until all of them were reduced to pieces. 

“An incomplete domain.” Nanami considered the option, recalling a recent lesson the two had been given on the mechanics of domains and the many warnings given when engaging with them. “If either is the case, then there is still a chance— We have to keep moving.”

A rumble deep within the earth responded to Nanami’s order, threatening to shake either teenager off their feet. 

“The cursed spirit doesn’t like that.” Nanami groaned, following Nanami’s lead with no questions to be asked the moment a malformed clay hand shot out of the ground. 

Running away wasn’t something Haibara liked doing. As headstrong and optimistic as he was, he believed that in most scenarios, he and Nanami could easily fight their way through. But if this was a domain, then upon its completion, a sure hit effect would take place. Neither knew what it could possibly be, leaving the risk of remaining within it too great to take. 

Abandoning the mission wasn’t something to find fault in. Not when it came to sorcery. Not when they were clearly in over their heads.

Their senpais were going to have to take this one over.

Nanami chose to lead them down the center hall pointing in the direction of what they started. While directions may prove pointless when trapped within a proper barrier, incompletion allowed for certain rules and facets of the world outside to still ring true in the pocket of cursed energy they were currently sprinting through.

As they moved, Haibara witnessed the walls distort before his very eyes. Their center of gravity remained stable with the floor, but that did not take away from the wave of twists and turns as wood contorted at impossibly odd angles. It should be splintering, cracking entirely underneath the strain, only further proving the influence this distortion of cursed energy had within this shrine. 

More and more hands shot upward from the ground, now varying in size and frequency. New angles were being chosen to manifest along the walls and ceiling, acting as hazards to be avoided through the constant swapping of jumping, skipping, and banging into one another in order for the teenagers to keep up their pace. 

Haibara wondered if these were easier to create than entire people, hoping to explain the sheer numbers they were faced with. His thought would be cut short the moment one of the cursed spirit’s clay hands clasped around his ankle. A throbbing pain shot up his leg as he spun during his fall. The sharp turn rolled his ankle free, breaking the creature’s wrist only after he felt the skin and muscle trapped underneath its grip twist just far enough to tear a scream from his throat. 

“Haibara—”

“I-I’m fine!” Hissing as he spoke did not make his words any more believable. He’d landed on his side, earning the formation of a nasty bruise down his thigh when all this was over. 

Nanami was quick to reach out for him, his hands pulling him by the shoulders to bring Haibara back to his feet before the two were forced to run once more. The act was becoming laborious just as breathing became harder with the dust spewing into the air with each shake the building made. A string of paper lanterns fell from the rafters, further impacting their progress as Nanami cut through them to avoid getting strung up or tripped by the wire. 

“Nanami, look!” Haibara continuously slapped the side of Nanami’s shoulder with the back of his hand until his classmate had caught on the same bright light as he had. Large and square, one turn would put them on a straight path toward it. “That has to be the exit!”

“We’re almost there!” There was genuine relief in Nanami’s voice. His classmate appeared hopeful, grabbing Haibara’s hand to pull him along in gaining a much-needed second wind. A second wind that would be whisked away the moment the break in the barrier to their escape appeared to shrink.

The doors were closing!

Were they… going to make it?

Haibara turned to Nanami again, frowning at how his classmate was gripping his own ribs. He’d take more damage from a previous fight than he’d let Haibara initially believe. Haibara was sure of it. But he was also convinced that while Nanami was struggling just as he was, he was capable of running much faster if he wasn’t so focused on ensuring Haibara was keeping up alongside him. 

Was he slowing them down?

Activating Invigorate could counteract this. The answer was right in front of him. And upon preparing to use his cursed technique, he felt his stomach lurch and his body shake as if to warn him that using it again on both would end worse than when he’d overused it at the track two days prior. 

To use Invigorate on not just one, but two people so quickly after the first… He’d render himself unconscious at this rate. Forcing Nanami to carry him, with the seconds ticking down to cross the ever-expanding hallway in mockery of their escape—

They needed to keep pushing themselves to break through the barrier.

They needed to move faster.

Haibara needed to make a call.

As all the motion of the world appeared to slow, Haibara considered his options. His mind ran faster than it ever had been, leaving both his movements and everything surrounding him to appear trapped in time. It was a snapshot of how their mission had come undone.

If there was a chance for one person to get ahead with one activation of his cursed technique instead of doubling the effect onto both of them. If Haibara could remain conscious long enough to see that person cross— He should take it.

Haibara glanced up at Nanami, unable to keep his eyes open without feeling an awful sting. He couldn’t bear to close them either.

There was no question on who he’d use his cursed technique on. Out of the two who had stepped into this cursed spirit’s domain, only one of them had a future waiting for them outside it. And to have gotten a chance to learn of it… For that, Haibara was grateful.

“Hey, Nanami.”

The world resumed. 

A chorus of destruction rang through the air as the building tore itself apart in an effort to ensnare the sorcerers before either could experience the light of day once more. The clay hands extended further into the hall, their arms in a liquid-like state to allow further stretching in their pursuit. Ducking and weaving through the mass wasn’t going to work forever. Haibara knew they were going to catch up to him. 

It was only a matter of when. 

“Take care of Yuji, alright?” 

Haibara gathered cursed energy within his hand, propelling his cursed technique through the fingers squeezed within Nanami’s hold. 

“He’s going to need you.”

With that, Haibara slipped out from Nanami's hand to watch as his classmate’s silhouette barreled forward toward the strip of light remaining between the doors. 

There had been a delay before Nanami registered the soft words Haibara spoke. Before he realized the weightless feeling of his body. Before he turned to see just how much distance there now was between himself and the classmate he thought had been running at his side. 

“Haibara!”

It was too late for Nanami to turn around completely. His body was already lunging through the exit. His feet were already in the midst of their last step to freedom. 

The darkness around Haibara’s vision crawled inward. First at the edge of his eyes just as he slowed his steps, only to fall for his body to collapse completely. The cursed spirit’s clay hands locked down his legs, putting an abrupt end to the teenager’s already futile attempt at continuing his own escape. 

Haibara reached out, refusing to cry as he caught his last sight of Nanami through his weakening fingers. 

In the end, he was glad he couldn’t make out whatever horror had latched onto Nanami’s face. Nor would he have to see Yuji’s reaction when he heard the news of what happened. Yuji will probably blame himself for this when that was the furthest thing from the truth.

“We may not have met in your future, but I’m very happy to have met you now. You’re a really good person. Nanami couldn’t have found a better kid to look after.”

“I wish we did.”

Chapter Text

With no one around, Yuji could enter the boy’s dorm without worry of being caught. Choso had reluctantly granted him the space to do so alone, as the point of poking his head around solo would be lost if his brother had accompanied him. The fragile illusion built within his mind may very well shatter.

The overwhelming buzz of cicadas and the scorching summer heat persisted even though the last few days had been raining. On and off, overcast to bright sunny skies, the weather would never match up entirely with the memory Yuji had called upon and that was an imperfection he would have to accept in an otherwise unchanged hallway. Paradoxically, closing his eyes made it easier to see.

“This is your room.” Gojo, the man who had taken him as an additional student for his first-year class, leaned against the frame of his door while Yuji poked his head into every nook and cranny he could find. "You can do whatever you want with it.”  

“Whoa! It’s huge!” 

This place was at least double the size of his old room!

“And that’s not even the best part.”  

Thanks to Yuji’s quick reflexes, he caught the small box which had been casually tossed by Gojo. The all-white box with the recognizable fruit logo had him handling it with care, even if he was a bit eager to pry the top open to reveal a brand-new cell phone inside. 

“This… Is it for me?” Already picturing the number of zeros this device must have cost, the teenager succumbed to a mild panic. He could never afford something like this. “I don’t know how I’ll pay you back, but I swear I’ll—“

“It’s a gift. No takebacks. Phones make life a hell of a lot easier.”

“Thank you so much!” 

Yuji bowed his head, almost toppling forward before dropping the box on the nearby desk to play with the device in his hands. The buttons weren’t hard to grasp considering he’s borrowed the phones of classmates before. After some prodding, he’d managed to pull up the application he desired. The camera.

With little thought beyond the desire to record this moment, Yuji lifted the phone up and snapped his first picture. The flash had been enabled, enveloping Gojo in a light that was far too bright, while the camera made a loud shutter sound intent on giving away his antics. Not that Yuji believed the blindfold on the man’s head actually did anything. He now witnessed another strike against it in the form of Gojo freezing in place, dazed by the sudden flash. 

“I’m sorry, Gojo-sensei. You looked so cool posing there, I couldn’t help it!” 

Yuji opened his eyes to face the door that had been assigned to him eleven years from now. It was surreal to stand in front of it, to see the same cracks and blemishes in the wood that were there before he even got a chance to add more. 

A step back on his left foot with a glance to follow placed him perfectly to see the room beside it. He could imagine the handle turning, the door swinging open to let out a frustrated sigh that preceded the appearance of a familiar unruly head of hair. 

“Hey!” Fushiguro appeared from the dorm next door in wrinkled clothes, scratching his head as if he’d just been pried out of bed from their noise. “There were plenty of other rooms, weren’t there?”

If Yuji had known Fushiguro had been so close to them, he would have kept his voice down. But unlike him, Gojo didn’t have an excuse for engaging with Yuji with the same level of energy. Any remorse that man should have felt wasn’t present to match Yuji’s silent plea for forgiveness. That much could be surmised by the way Gojo sauntered over to Fushiguro.

“But isn’t livelier better?” 

Gojo’s dismissal of Fushiguro’s annoyance had led Yuji to do the same. He had been overtaken with the joy of sharing a living space with another person again. And having that person be Fushiguro of all people, well, that was just the icing on the cake. 

“I thought it’d be good for—”

“Classes and missions are enough.” Fushiguro cut his teacher off right as Yuji surfed the wall to reach his classmate’s door. “This was an unwelcome favor.”

“Wow, it’s so organized!” 

Peering inside had granted Yuji the sight of a neatly organized room as if it was straight out of a catalog. Fushiguro’s room wasn’t empty or lifeless by any means, but everything that was in sight had been neatly straightened, clothes were folded, and not a single speck of dust nor a piece of trash could be found. 

“I just said you’re unwelcome!” Before Yuji could react, Fushiguro slammed his door shut with Yuji still halfway through the doorframe.

Yuji grabbed his shoulder, stretching far enough to knead out the phantom pain the memory had brought. He laughed as he did so, remarking on how Fushiguro enjoyed his peace and quiet. Despite that, he never once complained about Yuji spending more time in his classmate’s dorm than his own. The same could be said about how Fushiguro would continue being dragged places by Kugisaki and him, accepting his fate without much struggle. 

When Yuji thought about it, he believed on some level that Fushiguro had been lonely too, in his own way. His annoyance at everyone’s antics came from a preference for schedules and being able to expect what is going to happen without his life being disrupted. It was understandable. And it wasn’t something that had prevented him from spending time with them either. If anything, Fushiguro really liked doing things as a group, or else he wouldn’t spend so much time looking up places to go whenever his classmates got indecisive…

“Itadori?”

On the verge of screaming, Yuji jumped away from the noise. He quickly rubbed his eyes, using his sleeves to clean himself up before facing the second-year now standing in front of him. 

“Ijichi-san-senpai!?”

A bead of sweat rolled down the older teenager’s face as he smiled. Ijichi wasn’t voicing it allowed, but the sheepish look was his way of apologizing for startling him. It really wasn’t Ijichi’s fault for Yuji’s extreme reaction, given how far he’d been lost in his own memories. Additionally, it was still taking some time for Yuji to get used to seeing the adults in his life as peers. Ijichi was like Nanami in that the two had much smoother faces as teenagers, though the stress lines of adulthood were peaking out ever so slowly…

“I’m sorry, I was—” How was Yuji supposed to explain himself? He was standing in the middle of the boy’s dorm unsupervised for no reason that made sense to any sane person. At least this time, Yuji wouldn’t have to think of an excuse as Ijichi soon provided one.

“Gojo-senpai isn’t back yet.”

“Eh?”

“Isn’t that who you’re looking for? You’re standing outside of his dorm.”

His dorm…?

Yuji turned his head back toward the door. This time he squinted his eyes, assessing the door and the room behind it for any signs of cursed energy he could pick up on. Not that he believed Ijichi would lie about that sort of thing, but his own disbelief was getting in the way of— There. Gojo’s energy truly was all over the place, with most of it concentrated within the room, specifically around the corner which Yuji knew held the bed. It was fainter than he had assumed it would be, but nonetheless, this was his dorm. 

“Ah, right. Sorry. My bad. It’s been a slow morning upstairs.” Yuji knocked on the side of his head, hoping this would help dismiss any weird observations Ijichi must have made of him. This new information wasn’t extremely shocking or life-changing, but it was interesting to learn. Like a piece of trivia one can find under a bottle cap. And now that Yuji knew there was something interesting about this dorm— his future dorm— he had to ask about Fushiguro’s while he attempted to feel out the energy from where he stood. “If you don’t mind me asking, whose dorm is next to him? On the left.”

“That’s Geto-senpai’s.”

“No way!” Yuji jogged over to the door, looking it up and down to confirm the older teenager’s words. He then pointed an excited finger down the hall, waving it between the doors he had yet to approach. “And who do these belong to? One of these has to be yours… I want to see Haibara-senpai and Nanamin’s dorms, but they’re not back yet either.” 

“Well—”

“They’re back!?” From zero to a hundred, Yuji sprinted at full speed back to where Ijichi stood. Haibara had promised to text him when their mission was over, but Yuji hadn’t received a single message all morning. “Why didn’t you say that sooner!? Where are they? Are they on their way to the dorms right now?”

Ijichi fiddled with his glasses. Looking away from Yuji wouldn’t stop the younger teenager from noticing the frown that had formed over his face. The sight sent Yuji’s relatively good mood off a cliff, as he’d seen adult Ijichi make that face before when it came time to discuss something difficult or relay some bad news—

Yuji’s shoulders tensed as his back straightened out. He wasn’t about to assume the worst, but the silence was starting to get at him. 

“Ijichi-senpai, please!”

“Alright. Alright, just please, keep your voice down.” At Ijichi’s request, Yuji snapped his teeth shut and nodded. “I saw Nanami being taken to the nurse’s office on my way here. The assistant supporting him was shouting on the phone for Ieiri-senpai to make sure she was there. He didn’t look too horribly banged up as far as I could tell, but looks can be deceiving…”

“But he’s good beyond that, right? It’s just a few injuries. That’s normal. That’s how missions go. He’ll be fine.” Unable to believe a single word coming out of his mouth, Yuji pressed his concerns to the deepest recess of his mind to deal with whatever anxieties came from them. This method of coping would not stop Yuji’s feet from walking to the nearest exit of their own volition. “I should… check up on him to see how he’s doing. Haibara-senpai probably isn’t giving him any room to breathe, so I’ll just stand outside… Thank you for the heads-up, Ijichi-senpai!”

With two palms slapped together, Yuji raised his hands above his head to further express his gratitude before dashing out the door.

“Itadori, wait! That’s not—”  

Whatever the rest of Ijichi’s sentence was, Yuji’s ears hadn’t picked up anything beyond the first handful of words. He didn’t think they were necessary. Whatever it was, he was bound to learn of it soon, given his destination. 

Yuji ran into Choso on the way. 

Literally. 

Not a full-body collision, but the younger’s shoulder had slammed into his brother’s arm when turning a precarious corner. Their exchange was brief. Too frantic to remain idle, Yuji only spoke the name of his destination, along with a breathless apology that couldn’t quite come out right before he barreled ahead, leaving his older brother to follow the trail he left behind. 

“Damn it!”

Yuji had just entered the hallway when a thunderous, metallic clash accompanied Nanami’s voice. A cluttered mess of sounds followed, high-pitched and in greater frequency than the first, indicating that whatever had been kicked or thrown had knocked into something—a table—and scattered its contents along the ground. 

It wasn’t a stretch to assume that the two were related. At least hearing Nanami speak while also being physically able to lash out at something was a good sign in its own right. That didn’t mean Yuji was going to continue approaching at his speed. The outburst had caused his steps to slow to a crawl, fearing his footsteps would draw attention and unwanted ire.

“Their faith… That shrine. That was a local deity.” Nanami’s vexed words were scratching at his throat. His prior shouting sapped all his energy, but that wasn’t stopping him from venting to whoever was around him. “That case was for a grade one sorcerer. How could they overlook that—”

A sharp hiss cut Nanami off. A couple hard breaths followed, louder than the rest until whatever pain he was in had subsided. 

Nanami was a grade one sorcerer, wasn’t he? Or rather, the Nanami from Yuji’s time was. Sorcerer grades are earned and can be raised over time. Yuji knew that from experience. It shouldn’t be that much of a surprise to find that younger Nanami, who was less experienced, was of a lower grade than the one he knew. 

“You need to rest now, Nanami.” That was Geto’s voice. He sounded soft, but flat. Almost forced, which was odd. Yuji didn’t understand why that would be the case. “Satoru is going to be taking over the mission from here. They’re sending word to him now.”

“Can’t we just leave everything up to him alone at this point?” Defeated and lacking any of his earlier contempt, Nanami was too exhausted to embody it. Yuji poked his head around the door frame, just enough to catch a whiff of Ieiri’s cigarette. The mission went bad. He bet it was worse than that.

“If only that…” Ieiri perked up when she caught sight of the younger teenager listening in. Her position in the far corner made certain she’d notice him first, given that the other two teenagers were on the other side of the wall Yuji had attempted to hide behind. Her silence, as she bit down on her cigarette, revealed her indecisiveness on how to respond to him. 

Geto noticed her words fading out and followed her eyes to the source. Two steps back was enough for him to stand in sight of the door, caught off guard by Yuji’s sudden appearance. 

“I’m sorry for intruding. Ijichi-senpai told me that Nanami-senpai had been brought to the nurse’s office for treatment, and I…” 

Yuji had taken the staring as an accusatory look demanding that he reveal himself for listening in. As awkward as it was, he was grateful for the peace of mind that came with the ability to see Nanami even if he was strewn against the chair beside the wall with a rag over his eyes. It was far better than finding him bleeding out after being stabbed when they were in Kawasaki. 

“Where’s Haibara-senpai?” Since Gojo was still out, apparently for longer based on what Yuji had just overheard, all that was missing from this room was Haibara. “Don’t tell me he’s on a snack run at a time like this?”

Yuji’s suggestion was meant to be a light-hearted jab. Haibara just seemed like the kind of person to shower someone in their favorite snacks or activities during recovery. A bunch of small, kind gestures to alleviate how awful life can be. It didn’t appear as though the others understood what he had meant. Or maybe they had, and that’s what made it so hard for the three of them to refrain from saying anything further as Yuji glanced between them for answers. 

Geto, being the closest and the one Yuji had been primarily addressing, was who he thought would speak up first. Instead, the third-year said nothing when his eyes fell to the ground at their feet. A look to Nanami only meant that Yuji got to witness a sharp inhale, and the whispers of a drawn-out exhale under his breath. He wasn’t saying anything either. A creeping dread surrounded Yuji’s feet, unwelcome claws curling around his ankles in preparation to climb even higher. To stave off this foreboding constriction of his chest, Yuji turned to Ieiri as his last hope. All he needed was a couple of words, maybe even a gesture to keep him from worrying, God forbid assuming—But she wouldn’t say anything either. Ieiri continued to remain leaned against the wall, as if there were a chance she could hide within it entirely to escape the desperate pleas in front of her. 

“Where is he?”  

The question fell from Yuji’s mouth, one word at a time, shattering against the floor. It shouldn’t be that difficult to answer. Yuji didn’t require an entire story, just name a place or a verb. There was an entire lexicon of words that could be said, literally anything so long as it broke through their silence. 

Silence never brought anything good with it.

Yuji knew that from experience. His countless trips to the hospital where his grandfather stayed until he died had meant he’d overheard one too many deliveries of bad news whether it be within the waiting room from a loved one or the doctor in a passing room. Air grows heavier in silence, reflecting the weight of the words no one wanted to hear. 

And so, Yuji begged for any of the three to speak. Voice quivering, as his throat closed around his airways to choke out whatever denial he could muster. 

“No. N-no that’s… h-he’s not…” Yuji looked around again, turning, leaning, and bending further as if Haibara would miraculously appear behind the table or he’d been right behind Yuji this whole time. Just one more look—

“Itadori-kun.” 

Nanami spoke up, his own body fighting back against the desire to straighten his posture. The second-year caught the rag as it fell from his face, his eyes red and swollen. The effect his look had on Yuji was immediate, causing the younger teenager to freeze in place and listen to what he had to say as much as Yuji adamantly refused to hear it. 

“Haibara… We did all we could to escape and in the end, it wasn’t enough. He chose to value my life over his. It shouldn’t have been…” A harsh breath of air cut the thought short. Curt, and direct, Nanami faced the truth directly in spite of the pain it so clearly brought. “But that is what happened. There is no changing it. I’m sorry.”

No.

Yuji’s nails dug into the sides of his skull as he grasped his lowered head. 

No, no no—

It did not matter if he clasped his palms over his ears, as the horrid laughter originating from the depths of his mind continued to grow into a harrowing chorus. Pleading for silence while denying the truth would not temper the curse’s mockery. No, it only served to ignite it. Feed it. Carve the sound so deep into his ears that he would continue to hear it alongside the nightmarish visions that already plagued him every time he granted himself permission to rest.

“This wasn’t… This wasn’t supposed to happen.”  

Yuji stumbled back, tripping over his own feet until his back collided with the frame of the door behind him. The contact startled him, his body flinching upward so that his eyes once again faced the two eldest teenagers in the room. Geto continued to give him nothing but an empty, sympathetic stare. Ieiri had crossed her hands, unable to hide her own tightened grip as she directed her anger elsewhere. Away from the person who couldn’t have known better. The one who should have known better.

No part of Yuji could bear to face Nanami. Not after meeting Haibara. Not after speaking to him and understanding that this person, Nanami’s classmate, mission partner— his dear friend who was absent from Yuji’s future directly because of something like this. An event that should have been obvious to predict. All of this was—

Yuji spun around, back hugging the door frame as he needed to break the line of sight. He needed to get out of that room. He needed to breathe. To run away from the laughter continuing to shake his veins. All his effort was halted by Choso, to whom he once again ran into, only this time, it was his head colliding with his older brother’s chest. How long had he been standing there?

No words were exchanged between them, Choso had heard all he needed to know what had happened. That Yuji had failed. No, worse than that, he had contributed to whatever fate Haibara had been cursed with. Why else would Choso be resting his hands on his shoulders? Attempting to steady him, lull him into calming down when that was the last thing Yuji wanted or deserved. 

“Don’t you— Let go of me!”

“Little brother.”

“I said, LET GO!” 

Yuji thrashed out of Choso’s grip. With his escape, he darts forward, only to immediately fumble over his shaking legs until he comes to a stop. Slouched over, Yuji heaved through each laborious breath of air. A detestable heat had taken over, his face burning as was his chest, to the point that his fury, frustration, and grief may as well burn him alive from the inside out. 

How could this happen? 

Why? And why now? 

Why him? 

Curling his fingers into a fist was not enough to quell his rage. Unable to contain himself any longer, Yuji slammed the side of his fist into the through the enforced wall beside him. This building, unlike many of the others, was more modern in its interior. It wasn’t just wood beams that snapped under the weight of his punch, but the cracked drywall or plaster— he didn’t care to know which —shattered into pieces as well. A hole had formed, providing a window into Ieiri’s office that was entirely unneeded. 

“Itadori!”

Geto ran into the hall. He’d said something further, ordered him to do something, but Yuji was not listening. How could he? His thoughts were far louder. They had to be, if they were to drown out the curse still enjoying the show unfolding before him. 

Was this always supposed to happen? Was Haibara fated to die now, or… Did knowing about the future cause it? Were he and Nanami always assigned this disastrous mission? Was there a way to tell? And even if there was, what would be the point? Either answer enforced the doomed narrative that had been present in the back of Yuji’s mind since they arrived . If Haibara was meant to die on that mission, then Yuji couldn’t change his fate. If Haibara wasn’t meant to die, then it was the knowledge of the future that drove him to cast his life aside. He didn’t have a future within Yuji’s time, and now he won’t regardless of what happens next. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Yuji caught sight of Choso inching closer.

“Don’t.” A growl escaped from Yuji’s throat. His cursed energy had become erratic. Heightened beyond the usual off-putting aura he gave off as Sukuna’s vessel, even he could feel the blighted cursed energy pouring outward with each emotional outburst. No semblance of control could be found. Neither was there a willingness, so long as Yuji could be left unburdened by their insistence of calm. “Don’t come near me. Don’t touch me. Don’t—”

Yuji wanted to scream. To raise his voice higher until it cracked, and even then to continue venting his anger until the impossible could be possible and his mistakes could be undone. 

Behind Choso, to Geto’s right, Yuji catches Nanami leaning against the door and his upperclassman for support. Yuji’s eyes didn’t linger long enough to catch his expression. His appearance was all he needed to know that escaping into the hallway wasn’t enough. He needed to get further away. His feet knew that, already backing away one step at a time before the urge that he despised so much had propelled Yuji down the hall. All his grace had been abandoned as he fled down the stairs, catching any railing or wall in his way to push and turn himself in whatever direction brought him further from that room. 

‘What a coward you are.’

The curse’s laughter had ceased. In its place was a soured disappointment as Yuji tripped down the front steps beyond the last door to the outside world. A clash of thunder filled the air as his face clashed with the building rain outside. Yuji had caught himself well enough, his arms spread just enough to balance himself out before he continued his sprint. He wanted to get as far away as he could this time. Beyond the school, beyond everything that could remind him of the past, present, and future he’d been working so hard to change. 

‘I warned you, didn’t I? The consequences of playing with forces beyond your mortal comprehension. You attempt to shape the very nature of the universe without any modicum of comprehending it. Confront your failure properly.’

“Shut up!” Yuji’s throat was hoarse, serrated further by itching choking breath before and after his bid for silence. 

‘Or don’t. Your guilt will eat you up, regardless. It’ll be a feast to witness…’ Sukuna let the thought trail off. Yuji could picture the curse shifting in his seat atop his macabre throne, looking down on the vessel that dared to eye him from below.  ‘It’s what you deserve to believe you could forge a better outcome. Saving their lives? What lives have you ever truly saved?’

“SHUT UP!” Yuji had silenced Sukuna before, he could certainly do so again, but no worthwhile result came from pushing back against the monster with a fracturing will. His mind was too disoriented to put up a real fight. His focus scattered between dodging the buildings, the trees, sharp declines in elevation made worse by the forming mud, and the occasional stone hellbent on seeing Yuji fall to the ground as he continued his descent from Jujutsu Tech’s campus. “Just… stop.”

He’d almost added a proper plea if he hadn’t given up speaking halfway through. What use was there in begging Sukuna for anything?

‘You’re my vessel.’ It was only expected that the curse would not listen. ‘Since the day you were conceived, your existence only heralds disaster just as I do.’

Yuji slid down the dirt slope ahead. His feet connected with the smooth pavement of the road the moment an unbearably bright light flooded his vision. The frantic honking of a car horn was followed by the ear-piercing sound of screeching tires. There had been no time for Yuji to jump out of the way in his state, leaving him to stare helplessly as a deer would when trapped in headlights for the vehicle to stop mere centimeters from his feet. He couldn’t begin to imagine what would have happened if the driver had reacted any later. 

“What are you doing out here!?” Still blinded by the car’s headlights, Yuji could only vaguely make out the humanoid shape of the driver. Accompanying it was a woman’s voice he didn’t recognize. First infuriated, then winding down just enough to show concern as Yuji’s worn features revealed the distressed state he was in. “Jumping out into the middle of the road… Are you alright? Is something going on further ahead? Do you need medical attention—”

“Yuji!?”

The teenager’s body winced at the sound of his name. Especially when it was from a voice he recognized. One he hadn’t heard in several days, stepping out of the very car that almost hit him on a road that was usually empty. The sound of his shoes stepping over the asphalt had drowned out the sound of the still-running engine. It wasn’t until Gojo brushed past his driver to meet Yuji in the light did Yuji notice the phone in his hand. The device was still on, possibly in the middle of a call, but Gojo didn’t care. 

Looking up at Gojo was just as difficult for Yuji as moving his quivering lips to speak. If there was anyone else he had feared failing, it was the very teacher who had put so much faith in him regardless of what time or place they were in. Facing him only brought back the tears to his eyes, completely clouding Yuji’s vision in the process.

“I’m s-sorry.” Swaying on his feet, Yuji’s arms were nothing but dead weight at his sides. “I-It’s my fault. It’s all m-my fault. H-Hai… H-Haibara is—”

“I know.” 

Yuji froze at his sensei’s admission. Being as still as he was, Gojo had taken the opportunity to step closer, outstretching a hand across the back of Yuji’s shoulders while refraining to pull him in. An offer to get close. One that came without a single glance his way, allowing Yuji just enough room to process the act before falling victim to the next overrun of emotion. The younger teenager curled inward a bit, rolling into Gojo’s front before gripping his shirt between his fingers. All he could do was repeat his apologies over and over again.

“I’m s-sorry. I-I couldn’t… He didn’t—”

“It’s not your fault.” Gojo whispered, his voice absent of the unserious energy Yuji had known him for. With Yuji’s head buried and Gojo looking elsewhere to wave his driver back into the car, there was no way to know what else his sensei was thinking. His cursed energy was unusually tempered, which made it unsettling in its own right when paired with Yuji’s own.

“It is! How else could he have— He wouldn’t have known without me!”

“Haibara… He’s the type of guy to put others before himself. He would have made the call to ensure Nanami got a clean escape regardless of what he knew would come after.” Gojo’s hand moved to rest upon Yuji’s head. His hand was smaller than what Yuji remembered. Unsteady. Tense. But that did not mean the affection that came with it was any less present. “You’re not the one who told him about the future anyway.”

Gojo wasn’t wrong on either account. From what little time Yuji had spent with Haibara, he knew the former to be true. Haibara and he were quite similar, even if one disastrous event after another had chipped away the lively, optimistic exterior Yuji once had. It was a trait to be sympathized with, and one that Yuji couldn’t find fault with, which made his anger spiral inward more than anything else. From what it sounded, the two second-years were in a lose-lose situation regardless. Yuji wouldn’t dare suggest a trade between their lives as the question itself sickened him to the core, but what is truly that selfish to ask for the both of them to have returned in one piece?

And then for his sensei to take the blame for Yuji’s sin. As if Yuji wasn’t the source of all the knowledge of what was to come in the first place. 

“I’m the one who told you, S-Sensei.”

“Like we gave you a choice?” Gojo scoffed. He sounded more bitter than playful with the gesture, dismissing the conversation in a way Yuji wasn’t sure how to take. “Come on, I’m sick of this blame game already. And standing around outside, the mosquitos keep trying to get through my technique.”

The older teenager steps back, prompting Yuji to release him without the need of using his technique to force his hands away. Once separated, Gojo turned to the car, only for Yuji to remain stuck in place as his feet could not find it in him to move. Joining him meant going back. What would that accomplish? His turmoil had yet to subside, nor did he feel like he earned the right to return and face… him.

“G-Gojo-sensei,” Yuji called out with his hand clutching his chest as he beckoned Gojo to listen to him. Right now, he felt so far away, and Yuji couldn’t handle it. Everything was wrong. None of this was how it should be. “I… I can’t. I’m not…”

“I already said it's not your fault. Let’s get you back to Choso, and then I can—”

“No, it’s…” Yuji swallowed back the lump in his throat, clearing the way for him to shout louder as he stomped his foot on the ground. “How are you so— calm!? Why aren’t you angry!? If not at me, then about, I dunno—all of this!? I don’t understand!”

God, he was crying again. Sobbing and choking through his quickening breaths. Hyperventilating. That’s what this was. A horrible strain on his throbbing heart, and overused lungs—The feeling wouldn’t cease until Gojo returned to him and crouched at his feet. 

There would be no avoiding his gaze now. Eyes that normally reflected the sky were burning along the edges. Blistering red and partially open, Gojo looked up at Yuji through the wet hair stuck to his skin with a pain Yuji found too foreign to his face.

“I am angry.” Gojo shook his head, allowing himself to express his honesty. “I’m so fucking angry. But, you’re here. Yuji-kun, my future student, And I —I should be the person you think I am and tough it out just long enough until you get out of my sight so I can take out all this pain on that cursed spirit responsible for taking Haibara from us. Students shouldn’t have been assigned that mission. At least, not them.”

“Gojo-sensei, uh, Gojo-san, you’re allowed to be you right now.” The younger teenager crouched down beside him, arms curled around his knees. “I’m sorry if—”

“—Don’t say sorry. It’s not something that— Forget it, ok? You don’t have to change how you speak.” Gojo paused to fix his sunglasses, only for them to slide out of place. “The truth is, my self-control is probably nowhere near as good as his. Right now, if I have to go into that school and speak to anyone else for more than a few minutes, I’m going to lose it. And I’m trying very hard not to lose it.”

“I really don’t want to go back either. I-I’m angry too, and-and all I want to do about it is punch and kick things until I stop feeling this awful shitty feeling and I can pretend like I accomplished something. It's all I’m good at.” 

“That’s not true.” Gojo snapped. The outburst had made Yuji jump, and Gojo noticed it, thus raising his hands in surrender as a way of silent apology. His next words were less aggressive as a result. “But if punching and kicking is what makes you feel better… I think we have the answer to that waiting for us in Akita. How does that sound?”

Akita prefecture. Nanami and Haibara’s mission. Gojo had been assigned to exorcize the cursed spirit still residing there, hadn’t he? As much as going to such a place would surely bring more pain than levity to the constricting sensation surrounding his chest. Worse still, Yuji hadn’t caught sight or word of a body yet, which meant there was a chance Haibara was still in Akita. If it meant Yuji could grant him some final peace, after that cursed spirit was turned to ash, then…

“I… Yes. Take me with you.”

“Alright then. Let’s raise hell.” 

The two of them shared a determined nod before climbing to their feet. 

“And bring Haibara home.”

This invigorating feeling wouldn’t last forever, but it was enough for their hands to connect and shake in agreement.

“And bring him home.”

Gojo took the lead, gesturing for Yuji to slide into the backseat of the car as he remained outside the driver’s window to catch her up on what was happening around her. With one click, he called back the number he’d hung up on earlier, speaking loud enough for all parties to catch the conversation between them.

“You know who it is. Yeah, Yeah, I already said I’m taking their mission. We’re turning our car around now. Find us the nearest train station that can take us to Akita. Send my assistant the address. Then call whoever is working in the area to evacuate the town. Use whatever excuse you guys want, just make it happen. I’m not taking no for an answer.” With that, Gojo smacked the top of the car a couple of times, signaling for their driver to roll up her window and get ready to move while he entered through the same door Yuji had, forcing the younger of the two to crawl over out of his way. 

“An evacuation?”

Gojo slunk back into his seat, eyes closed as he released a tired sigh. He looked more exhausted than before, leaving Yuji to question when it was the last time he’d slept. 

“Once we’re done with the cursed spirit, I’m demolishing that shrine.” 

Gojo’s cell phone started ringing after they’d descended most of the way down the mountain. The older teenager had flung it somewhere beside him, leaving it to glide partially into the crevice between seat cushions. They had each initially taken a window seat for themselves, but Yuji found himself unable to remain still even as his body unwound in slow, drawn-out stages. No longer was he struggling to breathe or fighting through tears to see, but his fists wouldn’t stop clenching. Every part of him was on edge, and whenever he caught sight of Gojo either from the edge of his vision or from one of the countless reflections this unbearably small vehicle created, he found himself looking away or shutting his own eyes completely. It was the only way to ensure the progress Yuji had made wouldn’t be lost. 

It was hard to look away when the phone rang. Yuji’s own had been going off for a while, but he could at least pretend the noise of the car was decent enough to cover up the vibrations in his pocket. Yuji couldn’t help but follow the source of the glow illuminating the backseat. And while neither was in the mood to speak, it was Yuji’s acknowledgment of it that must have pushed Gojo to reach over and retrieve the device. 

One petulant look was all that was needed for Yuji to correctly guess who was calling. Gojo considered ignoring it, with his finger already reaching for the end call button, only to give up at the last minute to follow through with answering. 

“Itadori’s missing.” Geto was on the other end of the line. The third-year sounded winded, conveying enough worry that had Yuji’s guilt returning. He was the one who ran off without a word or update on where he was going. His imagination was left to fill in the blanks for how Choso must be reacting to his absence. 

“Missing?” Gojo looked over to Yuji, but did not demand an explanation from him. 

“He ran off after finding out about the second-year’s mission. We were trying to keep it under wraps, but he arrived at the nurse’s office, and now… Satoru, I know you were assigned their mission, but you need to come back and help us find him. He needs you.”

“Well, it’s a good thing he’s sitting right next to me then.” Yuji’s face reignited, leaving him pulling his jacket tighter while his sensei reached out to pat his head. Poke his cheek. Tug on his jacket. All while humming into the phone’s receiver. “Yup. That’s definitely Yuji-kun.”

“He’s—He’s with you? How? And where is that?” Geto’s words became muffled for a bit, most likely from him relaying the information to whoever was close by. “Is he alright?”

“We met by the road at the edge of campus. We’re in Aikawa’s car, on our way to the train station. You remember Aikawa, right? She was our assistant last year, in, uh…”

“Train station!?”

“Where was it?”

“Satoru, why are you—You’re not taking him with you.” That wasn’t a question, but an order. One Gojo would ignore as he remembered where they’d met this woman before. 

“Morioka! That was last May, wasn’t it? Man, that takes me back. The string of incidents revolving that shady hotel—”

“—Enough!” Geto’s sudden rise in volume made his voice crackle through the speaker, drowning out whatever memory Gojo had conjured up. “This isn’t the time to reminisce! Turn around and bring Itadori back here before you drag him into something you can’t take back. Not to mention how Yaga-sensei will react to all this.”

Gojo placed his hand over the phone, muffling the sound of his classmate’s yelling the best he could. His attention was on Yuji first, his eyes gesturing toward the phone, the option to return, allowing Yuji to confirm or reject his previous decision if he wished. 

Yuji shook his head. 

It would be shameful to back out now. 

“Satoru, are you even listening to me!?”

“Right. Yeah, so, we’re going to Akita. I already booked the train tickets. Don’t bother arguing. Follow us and meet us there or don’t. I don’t care. But if you do, you’ll have to take another line to catch up.” Gojo continued to dismiss Geto’s concerns. Yuji knew his classmate meant well, but he wished the conversation would end. “You can tell Choso to stop pulling his hair out. Everything will be fine. It’s me that’s with him after all.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why are you dragging Itadori into this?”

“He’s already in this! I’m not dragging him anywhere. It’s Yuji’s choice to be here and he can hold his own plenty. Exorcizing that cursed spirit will be therapeutic.” 

“For him, or for you?” 

Geto spoke quietly after that, leaving Yuji unable to hear the rest of what he had to say. Gojo didn’t appear to emote in any particular way to hint at what it could be either. His face remained frozen, listening to every word before responding just as blankly. 

“This is the last day I’ll be gone. I’m refusing missions after this when we get back.”

The phone call ended there. No goodbyes or additional sentiments to be shared. Not when their car had pulled up to the station, with the older teenager beckoning the two of them to hurry as they were already cutting it close to boarding. Their clothes had yet to fully dry, and neither of them looked well enough to be let alone without suspicion, but apparently, money was all that was needed for the workers to turn their heads away and allow the two to sprint through the crowded station board without an objection to be heard. 

Gojo led them into a private cabin. Small, but less cramped than the car, there was enough space for a small couch and a chair to surround the fold-out table below the window. The door could be locked behind them adding to their desire for privacy. The older of the two was quick to shut the curtains to block out what little sun could poke through the storm clouds outside, but there was nothing they could do about the sound of rain drumming against the window. 

His sensei claimed the chair, leaving Yuji to curl up on the couch in line with the way the seat curved to fit in this solitary space. With Yuji’s head below the table, Gojo crossed his legs above it, uncaring for how awkward his own position looked so long as he wasn’t slipping off as he rested his head against the wall behind him. 

Despite the train ride being just over eight hours, there would be no adequate sleep between them. Initially, neither spoke often if they could help it. Yuji felt too numb to pretend he cared about whatever topic could possibly take the place of their silence. Gojo couldn’t bring himself to pretend either. 

Worse still, Yuji’s skin itched from the coarse feeling of clothes. His whole body ached, crying out for rest when his mind refused to allow it. Not with Sukuna lurking about in the depths of his subconscious, the curse’s silence now more unsettling than ever. The fear of being dragged into his domain grew stronger, as Yuji refused to engage with the morose visions that accompanied each time they interacted face to face. Curse to Vessel. 

This purgatory on the edge of sleep made time move at a crawl. There were attempts to remedy this, between Gojo messing with the remote for the television hanging on the wall beside the door or a trip to shake down a passing food cart for bento boxes and whatever other snacks they had available. If circumstances were different, Yuji would have gawked in excitement at the pile of junk food and drinks his sensei had carried in from his raid, but his energy was sapped and his stomach was uncooperative. 

“It’s a long trip. You should eat.”

“Ok.”

Yuji ate only a few choice bites in thanks for his sensei still looking out for him, but that was it. The lack of reprimand or hostility in his direction was becoming uncomfortable as the hours went on, leaving the curse correct in his claim about his vessel’s guilt. His fault. Not his fault. It did not matter what Gojo had said, as Yuji’s guilt rendered him guilty regardless, serving to torment him more than anything else that could have been said. 

When looking up from his meal, Yuji was oddly relieved to find that Gojo hadn’t touched his own meal much either. 

“Are you going to eat too, sensei?”

“I will soon.”

“Ok.”

The third-year went back to staring through the curtains. Yuji wondered if he could see anything beyond them, similar to how his adult sensei would wear a blindfold and yet interact with the world as if it wasn’t there. He remained like that for a while, his head resting on his chin, just long enough for Yuji to settle back into the hum of the train before his sensei spoke up again once more. 

“I had told him to be careful.”

Him.

Yuji didn’t need to be told who ‘him’ was. 

“All he had to do was… He said he had no choice but to listen to his senpai, so why didn’t he?” Gojo wasn’t asking Yuji for an answer the younger teenager didn’t know. He wasn’t groaning from the lack of a response either. “I swear to God, if it turns out he’s alive after all this, I’ll be the one to kill him.”

His threat was made in jest. The exaggerated movements that came with Gojo stretching his arms and knocking his head back against the seat were proof of that. His tone may seem inappropriate to an outsider, but it was Gojo’s way of sharing his own guilt. And in a way, it was meant to bring a sliver of hope.

Only, hope was the last thing Yuji could handle at a time like this. What were the chances of Haibara being alive? Truly? It’ll almost have been an entire day since he and Nanami parted ways. And to be trapped within the barrier of a high-ranking cursed spirit for that long… Even miracles had their limits.

“Please, don’t tell me that.”

“What? I wouldn’t actually hurt him. What kind of person do you take me for?”

“It’s not that.” Yuji continued to mess with what remained of his half-eaten rice with his chopsticks, piling the tiny clumps of sticky grains on top of one another until his makeshift mountain fell over. “Don’t get my hopes up. I can’t handle them crashing down all over again.”

Arriving in Akita came with little fanfare. Gojo and he left the station without little interest in what surrounded them, meeting with the assistant, this time a man, already waiting with another car to drive them through the last length of their journey. Other trains were coming and going with no sign of pause or delay, but without the immediate sight of anyone else to join them, Gojo was the first to jump in the backseat to continue pressing forward. 

Yuji dove in after him without complaint.

When they arrived on the outskirts of town, Yuji couldn’t tell if it had been evacuated just as Gojo ordered, or if the small town had been abandoned from the start. There was visible wear and tear on everything in sight, chips, and cracks that would have taken more than a day’s worth of neglect to accumulate alongside the rampant overgrowth of weeds and other invading plant life. No building or street could be lingered on for too long, however, as their assistant drove past with little care for the half-fallen stop signs or the swaying traffic lights overhead. 

There was no rain here. No sun either, considering evening had come and gone by the time the pair had dropped off at the edge of the shrine that held their quarry. 

Gojo and Yuji exited the car at the same time with Yuji circling around the back to join the third-year in staring at their target through the old torii still standing strong in front of them. There was a dense aura surrounding the shrine, akin to the atmosphere that circles their planet. With that analogy in mind, Yuji had expected to find a circular sphere awaiting them, representing the outer bounds of the cursed spirit’s domain if it was still active. Instead, all they were left with was the empty courtyard and the sight of the rundown shrine. 

“Be careful you two. The cursed spirit is using the building to define the edges of its domain.” From the car, their driver, Watanabe, called out what little information he thought they would find useful. “Nanami mentioned that the cursed spirit was evolving its technique inside of there. I know you're a whole caliber of your own, but be weary stepping inside. I already have one kid on my conscience.” 

“I thought you assistants were trained not to care about those kinds of things?” Gojo leaned back against the car, hands tucked into his pockets without so much as glancing in the assistant’s direction. His words were petty and full of venom Yuji wasn’t used to seeing. “It’s the nature of your job.”

“I may have been the one to bring them here, but it’s not like I don’t have a heart. If I’d known about the domain… You’re here now. I suppose that’s all that matters.” 

“I suppose. Do yourself a favor and drive off a good safe distance. We’ll handle this from here and you’ll know when we’re done.” Gojo pushed himself off the car and waved the man away. There would be no argument between them. Watanabe vacated the premises, disappearing out of sight to get far enough away that the engine of his car could no longer echo back toward their ears.

Yuji lifted his chin up, mesmerized by the rows of lanterns burning bright, lighting the stone path between them and the front doors of the shrine. It was almost surreal in how the environment lightly rocked with wind that was far too gentle for a place like this. And there was nothing standing in their way. All accept the shackles of anticipation for what they may find inside when they finally enter inside. 

“It reminds me of a festival.” Gojo whistled a single note before kicking a stray pebble through the torii. It rolled first against the concrete, then the dirt and stone without any hindrance. “All that’s missing are the stalls. Is this supposed to be some kind of joke?” 

“N-Nanami said the cursed spirit was their local deity.” Yuji didn’t understand why or how, but he knew from first-hand experience that ignorance could drive people into doing the most absurd of things.

“Cool. I’ve always wanted to kill a God.” 

After deeming the torii nothing to concern himself with, Gojo stepped forward to officially enter the property. Yuji followed in his footsteps, shaking away his rattled nerves as best he could before joining Gojo at his side while they continued their approach. 

“Can you make anything out from here?”

“All signs point to an active barrier. The conditions are simple. Free to enter, no obvious escape. Stick by me and we shouldn’t have any problems regardless if this is a true domain or not.” 

That was another thing experience had taught him. Recalling the first day Yuji had been introduced to the concept of domain expansions when his sensei had teleported him over a lake to meet with the Mt. Fuji-headed cursed spirit he’d already been in the midst of fighting. It would be the same as back then, considering it was Gojo who’d protected Yuji against the domain’s attacks during that encounter just as he was going to now. 

“Understood.” 

“On the count of three then?” 

Yuji nodded. The two reached for the shrine’s doors, each taking a handle for themselves. There was no longer time for hesitation. Not when they were so close to the accursed energy waiting for them on the other side. They were almost there. 

“Three!” Yuji shouted, yanking the door out of his way with all his might. Gojo mirrored him, the two acting in unison as they dashed inside, only to find themselves standing amongst a sea of perpetually burning candles. 

The cursed spirit had wasted no time in greeting their arrival.

Awaiting them within the entry hall were a dozen clay figures placed equidistant from each other against all walls and corners of the room. Human-sized. Varying in detail, just as the report Gojo had read aloud on the way over had described. Some leaned masculine. Others feminine. A couple sharing equal qualities of both. A wide range of garments were carved into the clay as well to mimic clothes. From shirts and pants to dresses and kimonos. Faint expressions, such as the facial structure of a contorted lip or furrowed eyebrows were barely visible in the dim light. 

Calling forth his cursed energy, Yuji raised his fists to watch flicker into two roaring flames. He had come for a fight and had prepared to do so. But to his confusion, none of the clay figures in front of them had sought to move. Gojo and he quickly pivoted to adjust their line of sight. Now back to back, the two teenagers did so just in time to catch the bubbling formation of two additional bodies from clay which seeped in between the floorboard. A roadblock between the pair and the now-closing exit. 

“Are they… shikigami?”

“No.” Gojo remained relatively calm, his alert stance more a byproduct of the heightened tension that naturally came with a mission weighing so heavy in personal baggage rather than any genuine fear that they were in danger. “They’re something else. An extension of the real one, but which one…?”

His sensei’s train of thought continued within his own mind. Whatever conclusion he’d made, that was what had propelled the older teenager to raise his fist and flick his fingers apart. This motion carried with it his technique. His infinite barrier extended outward in a burst, saturating the room in a crimson glow before effortlessly shattering the surrounding figures into dust. 

All except one.

The clay figure between the decaying altar and the plethora of rotten offerings which were now splattered against the walls was the only one of its army that remained standing. That was not to say that it had taken no damage, as cracks had formed along its exterior, while larger chunks were chipped away entirely. The absence of support and the shake to its foundation had caused the statue to slump over as its body began to melt. 

“You were easier to find than I expected, but you won’t find me complaining!” Gojo shouted, aiming his next attack toward the cursed spirit before it could finish its transformation. This activation of red was condensed into nothing more than a speck above his finger to be shot out across the room. He’d aimed for the figure’s shoulder, tearing a third of its body into mud and ash while leaving just enough to ensure the fight did not end there. 

Yuji hadn’t been brought solely to spectate, after all.

 The agreement for Yuji to strike next went unspoken. No objections ran out as the younger teenager stepped forward, though he only picked up the pace when the floor began to rumble and tendrils of misshapen clay appendages ruptured from all directions. Their tips would split apart, one chunk of clay into five ends that mimicked that of human hands. Yuji had only caught the edges of it, his eyes too honed in on the regenerating figure to pay the next wave of assault any mind. Gojo could handle himself, and Yuji could run faster with his first ready to strike—

He stopped moving midair. 

As he landed in front of the cursed spirit’s form, Yuji’s fist remained still beside his head. His nerves twitched enough that it looked as though he’d come into contact with a barrier preventing his attack from striking, but the truth was far worse than he could have imagined. 

After the slow start the clay figure had in regenerating, it soon rapidly healed itself and reshaped its form within a matter of seconds before Yuji could come into contact. This new form was its most defined yet, haunting this waking nightmare with the visage of the last person this thing dared to take from them— Haibara.

His hair. 

His uniform. 

Individual strands and buttons were given too much detail, forcing Yuji to choke back the pooling sickness in his stomach. As close as they were, Yuji could see the individual details of Haibara’s face morph into place just beyond his own nose. His eyes and lips, so full of life that no other statue had come close to replicating that left him gawking in horror. This imitation— The utter disrespect for the life that had been cut far too short stood in front of him, daring to raise his hand and smile as he was the real thing.

Everything about it was grotesque, and yet, Yuji still paused to take in the face of the person he couldn’t save. If things had gone differently, if he’d only known about the classmate Nanami had during his youth, Yuji could have prevented this. 

“Don’t fall for it! That’s not—!”

“I know!” 

Yuji screamed through the tears as he plunged his divergent fist forward. It was only upon the connection, when his knuckles broke through the clay and became embedded in the mud did Yuji see the spark. The core of which the cursed spirit stemmed from. The very culmination of its very being flickering as it teetered on the edge of life and death itself. 

There was recognition in this thing, the cursed imitation of a soul. One that put the rest of the room in perspective as hands continued to manifest around Gojo in a failed effort to contain him. His sensei boasted a barrier to prevent them from coming into contact, yet it was him who they continued to target, as the tendril by Yuji’s feet and above his head shook from an innate fear that they would not learn for a decade to come at the boy standing defiantly in their wake. 

You.

Yuji yanked his fist out and slammed it forward before the cursed spirit could fathom the act of regeneration. He did this again, and again, following it to the ground until he was on his knees and his knuckles were sending shockwaves through the earth. The floor broke, and the foundation underneath shattered in a web of cracks permeated with rippling mud that would not find stability in its form. 

“You!” Yuji roared, clutching his fist with his opposing hand to slam down both in unison. “It’s always you!”

Shibuya flashed through Yuji’s eyes in reverse. Images flashed in and out of reality, his memory bleeding into his eyes and ears. 

The plead for a savior. The fear of their chase. The twisted delight accompanied the fingers that brushed against Kugisaki’s head. The final strike that sealed Nanami’s fight.  

Kawasaki came next.  

The weight of Junpei’s disfigured corpse in his arms. The cursed spirit that had sauntered down the stairs at the very moment of their reconciliation—

“I’m going to kill you.”

“Even if you come back as another curse. I’ll kill you.”

“Change your name. Change your form. I’ll kill you again.”

Mahito.

The chorus of laughter from the curse who resided beside his soul had returned louder than ever before. Yuji can’t stop. He won’t stop. His cries wouldn’t end until every last remnant of that vile cursed spirit had been wiped clean of this wretched place. 

“Yuji!” 

Gojo called his name from over his shoulder, but it did nothing to deter the younger teenager from his mission. It did not matter if the clay hands and figures had all liquified into smoldering puddles on the ground or if the building itself struggled to stand as each consecutive strike sought to rip its foundations further. 

“Yuji, it’s done! You can stop. The curse is—” The third-year reached for Yuji’s shoulder, tearing him away from the muddy pile now intermixed with his own blood. Yuji’s knuckles stung, his fingers numb, competing with the searing pain of the scars etched into his face. The reminder of his failure. His inability to bring this curse to its much-deserved end. 

“He’s never dead!” Fighting back, with all his might, Yuji threw himself back on the ground. Back on his knees. Forearms flushed with the ground as he remained hunched over the remains of his dark reflection. “H-He’s the one— The one who took Nanami! Kugisaki! Junpei!”

Yuji wept, his tears squeezed out by the pain overtaking his body. The plummeting of his heart. The evaporation of any will he had left to scream when his vocal cords were on the verge of severing in his throat. All he could do was whimper, too ashamed and far too angry to say his name while sputtering through the mess of tears, snot, and spit dripping down his face.

“H-Haibara…”

Gojo doesn’t reach for him again. He stood over Yuji as he continued his losing fight through his sobbing. 

Fuck.

Was there even a point in fighting anymore?

Never had Yuji felt so lost since the day he’d first arrived in an earlier iteration of Shibuya. It was no longer a confusion of what direction to take when there were so many roads to choose from, but a lack of roads altogether. All had merged into a single path, descending deeper between the looming buildings and suffocating crowd until he once again stood within the bloodied remains of Shibuya Station.

Curses were formed from the culmination of negative energy leaking out from humanity. Mahito was a cursed spirit born from the very hatred humanity held for one another. It was a concept that could not be eradicated. One that was bound to be reborn into a new cursed spirit over and over again. Yuji had accepted this truth at the zenith of their original fight. It was his pledge to destroy Mahito, that curse of human hatred, no matter what form or name it took next. 

He’d never considered fighting a prior version. Yet, his actions here would not mean or accomplish anything beyond playing the role of a sorcerer hunting a curse. Mahito would still be reborn one day. He’ll lurk in Kawasaki, band with Kenjaku, mutilate the populace trapped within Shibuya—

What was the point in believing the future could change if Yuji was helpless to stop something so simple as a single person’s life? A single cursed spirit’s manifestation?

Had all his effort been nothing more than wishful thinking? 

Was there ever a chance in the first place?

Or was he responsible for far worse, as the flap of his wings could have very well been the cause of a downward spiral he had no way of knowing until it was too late?

Yuji closed his eyes, unable to look around at the destruction lying at his feet. He couldn’t move either. Moving to stand, turning his head, he lacked the drive to carry out a single one. Not with Gojo standing there to hear his shameful confession. What Yuji would give anything to see it disappear, if only to wipe all evidence that the curse within him may have been right…

And it was there, within the darkness of his own creation amidst a collapsing shrine, that a single command from Sukuna’s voice echoed through Yuji’s ears. 

“Enchain.”

Chapter Text

Satoru’s outstretched hand remained exactly where Yuji had torn away from it, hovering over the collapsed and degrading form of the teenager weeping at his feet. From harsh wailing to muted sobs, Satoru was left to stand on his own and stare. His lips stuttered in preparation to move, but nothing came out.

He didn’t know what to say that would fix this ever-spiraling mess.

Traveling to Akita wasn’t supposed to dredge up more unwanted memories, but all Satoru had done was bring his future student to relive the worst of his own failures. They couldn’t even celebrate the successful exorcism of this damned cursed spirit if Yuji’s words of its revival or incarnation or whatever the hell word explained how this thing was simultaneously responsible for the death of so many people both past and future—They were supposed to be dancing on the bastard’s leveled grave and… and now… now they were—

With lungs filled to capacity, Satoru balled his fists before silently thrashing about in place as he fought over what to do. What to say? He couldn’t handle watching Yuji’s spark fade with each passing moment, his will to continue slamming his fists into the ground and make his anger known fading to the point that even Satoru couldn’t maintain the same level of energy in his stead. That wouldn’t mean he stopped expressing a modicum of optimism. The same flippant denial he’d been touting all this time, if only to lighten each blow the future had made against his core. Satoru didn’t have to believe his own words so long as Yuji was none the wiser. 

Satoru was going to fix this. The solution was right there in front of him! All he had to do was reach out again, kneel at his side and drill the inability for Yuji to be responsible for any of this living hell into the younger teenager’s brain while he shoved the weight of his own failings further out of immediate thought. Why should Gojo linger on the obvious? A mission assigned in his absence because he was stuck in meetings and ceremony he couldn’t give less than two shits about— If he’d only known how to teleport his ass out of there in an instant! The equation was almost perfect, and yet he still couldn’t—Gah!

Why the hell did this have to happen? Why now, so soon after Yuji and Choso’s arrival? Was this bad luck, piss-poor timing, or a warning from the universe itself to back off? Or was this just a doomed coincidence destined to fail when all they had was a flimsy warning to fight back against Haibara’s self-sacrificial end? 

The third-year held back his groan and shook his head, catching every angle of the empty hall as the domain which once surrounded them shattered into dust. The holes present in the ceiling above were now observable, given that the sky could pierce through them. A cacophony of stars pierced through the otherwise black void of rotted beams underneath the sinking roof. The widest hole made an impressive skylight just above their heads to grant the heavens enough space to mock the pair with the first ray of sunshine that day.

Satoru cast a middle finger up at the sky. He then sighed as he tossed it aside a second later after mustering the courage to follow through with his second attempt at tearing Yuji away from the remains of the cursed spirit they’d come to slaughter. The sight of that withering puddle of mud was supposed to be cathartic, but after seeing what came of it, Satoru found it painful to admit he was having second thoughts—

A shift in the air prevented Satoru from lowering to his knees. He held himself back on the cusp of squatting, forcing his body to straighten up as he was caught off guard by the sudden surge of cursed energy enveloping Yuji’s being. 

It wasn’t like before. 

This wasn’t an outburst of fury that had swelled an ungodly amount of cursed energy around Yuji’s soul. No longer was it moving in line to the fluctuations of its host, nor bending to the whims of the teenager who’d merged further into it with each passing finger consumed. What Satoru witnessed was the complete submerging of Yuji. Too fast. Too instantaneous for the third-year to react in time. All he could do was feel his own eyes widen as an ethereal chain ensnared around its host, thus allowing the true owner of that maelstrom of cursed energy to reveal himself on the surface of Yuji’s skin.

Blackened ink was the first of these physical changes. Jagged markings poked out from behind Yuji’s collar, spreading across the edges of his face and presumably, throughout his body if the change in nail color on the tips of his fingers were anything to go by. Then came Yuji’s stance. A slow and confident rise that possessed an uncanny calm in comparison to the emotional mess mere seconds before. Before turning around, the curse swept a hand through Yuji’s hair, brushing it back to ensure the entirety of his face was seen when he turned around with a look of satisfaction. Satisfaction that only brought horror to Satoru’s face. 

Yuji’s body may be standing in front of him, but any remaining soft and rounded features that were expected of a boy his age were lost. Angular and hostile, the slits forever present on Yuji’s eyes even before his acquired facial scars from Shibuya had split open to reveal a second set of crimson eyes to match the primary set. If it wasn’t for the clothes and pink hair acting as a constant during this usurping of control, Satoru may not have believed just how different a vessel could be molded to fit the creature lurking inside.

“It’s adorable, really,” The curse mused while flexing his hand— Yuji’s hand —flaunting his precision with each individual finger moved before stretching the arm out completely. “You both speak of ridding me so easily you forget who's always present to listen to your desperate and pathetic attempts at preventing the inevitable.”

Ryomen Sukuna

Once satisfied with his arms, the curse moved to swinging his feet. Sukuna rolled each ankle, then tapped each foot against the ground behind him as he continued speaking without paying any mind to which sorcerer stood barely a meter in front of him. His eyes were focused on the ground. His lips curled into a smug grin as the back of his heel slammed into the mud.

“I feel as though my point has already been proven. To think my vessel is tearing himself apart over such an insignificant insect… It’s his own fault for how quickly he attaches himself to others. One would think he would know better by now, but then again, history has a fondness for repeating itself.”

How dare he—

Satoru reigned his ensuing outburst in, compressing all of his anger into a tiny ball to shove as far down as he could to remain as level-headed as possible. He could not— would not —allow this curse to agitate him further. Distraction wouldn’t do him any favors, especially when he now stood in front of the King of Curses. Alone. With no guaranteed backup should Suguru or Choso have chosen not to follow after the wayward pair. If they had, Satoru had no way of knowing just how long they would be…

Or maybe he did. 

“You’re supposed to be the infamous Ryomen Sukuna? Is that right?” Satoru embraced what he did best and tore out his cell phone from his pocket. Flippancy was one of his core traits, and it would be one he’d happily take advantage of in order to text a warning in case his hunch was correct. He conceded that he wouldn’t have time to read Suguru’s response, but it was enough of an attempt to prepare his friend for the storm he may be charging into. 

[Suguru]

[Big problem. Sukuna. Yuji’s gone.]

“The big bad curse of the Heian period. Ooooh, Scary!” With his free hand, Satoru raised it in the air beside his head and shook it, lacking any fear in his words, when in reality he was doing his best to avoid showing the very real fear he had creeping up in the back of his mind when recalling Yuji’s retelling of the events just after his future counterpart’s sealing. An entire district in Tokyo had been reduced to ash… If Satoru hadn’t found a way to run his cursed technique automatically, he’d most certainly be having second thoughts about antagonizing Sukuna of all curses, but then again— “You know that you’re shorter than me in his body? How are you supposed to be intimidating if you’re like, what, a head below me?” 

An attempt would be made to know for sure, but just as Satoru stretched his hand forward to compare their two heights, he once again gleamed past the surface of Yuji’s body to catch sight of the cursed energy still bound tightly around his core. Sukuna was in control, yet the curse did not react to any of Satoru’s own taunts. He did not move from his spot, content to stand in place, hands in his pockets while tuning out everything the teenager threw at him. 

Why wasn’t the curse doing something… more?  

Satoru hadn’t intended to come off as ungrateful, but concerned.

“What is it you want, old man?” Satoru shoved his phone out of sight, surprised he got away with using it as much as he had. “Clearly you want something if you're pulling this kind of crap. It’s some kind of binding vow, right? It’s the only way you’d be able to brute force your way to the surface.”

“Did your Six Eyes reveal that to you?” Sukuna wasn’t surprised by the revelation. Satoru didn’t expect him to be, nor would he respond directly when the curse already knew his answer. 

“When?” 

Skipping from the how to the why, Satoru demanded an explanation. The only instance of Yuji handing over his body willingly from what Satoru knew was in a life-or-death situation. They were far from reaching the same circumstances in Akita, and Yuji’s own hatred toward the curse ran deep enough that he wouldn’t relinquish control for just any reason. Either the younger teenager had gone through an extreme fundamental change in priorities or this vow was something made long before stepping foot in the past. 

“Months ago and years from now. Your ‘higher-ups’ sent my vessel and his classmates on a suicide mission and it was by my hand that the so-called special grade cursed spirit didn’t slaughter them all in your absence. I took the brat’s heart as payment for using me as a tool without a proper binding vow. He’d cried so beautifully for his pitiful life, only to catch me by surprise when he had the gall to take over just to die at Fushiguro Megumi’s feet.”

“I needed a place to stay while pretending to be dead. Further context, that mission that I mentioned with the cursed womb ended uh, with me sort of dying—but I came back! Blame Sukuna, it’s a long story.”

“Even I am capable of generosity, however. In exchange for restoring his heart, and thus, his life, we made a vow. All I had to do was utter a single word for full control over my vessel at a moment of my choosing. Of course, the vow included a clause to erase the brat’s memory of ever forging it. The brat sharing our vow with others would be counterintuitive to its conditions.”

Well, that explained why Yuji never thought to warn anyone about a sudden takeover at Sukuna’s behest. Was Sukuna sharing all of this to gloat? 

The curse didn’t appear to be the type. Rather, Satoru had expected a sudden takeover to result in a more violent outburst. Yuji had made the curse’s penchant for destruction rather clear if Sukuna’s own moniker wasn’t enough to drive the point in Satoru’s skull, so why was the curse still talking? There had to be a purpose beyond answering Satoru’s questions purely for shits and giggles. If this was his way of stalling, then—

“And would you look at that, one minute has passed.”

One minute? Why was that—

Sukuna lunged forward without so much as a pause between his words and his extending fist. A right uppercut hooked underneath Satoru’s crossed arms, failing to guess which way the curse would strike and leaving him unable to physically block as a result. If Satoru had been any other sorcerer, Sukuna’s fist would have lodged itself into his gut to see his insides empty all over the ground. Fortunately, Satoru’s cursed technique stopped what his arms could not, slowing down not only the curse’s attack, but his own perception of unbelievably fast movement on par with what he’d experienced when fighting the Sorcerer Killer for the very first time. 

There was only a fraction of a second for Satoru to observe how Sukuna’s cursed energy flared in a way that Satoru hadn’t witnessed before. Pushed beyond the boundary of his body, it emanated an aura of its own which pierced through infinity itself to land a proper hit. The curse’s fist had been molded into a crude version of the Inverted Spear of Heaven. Upon their contact, time not only resumed, but the world itself became nothing but a blur as Satoru’s body was thrown beyond the shrine and through two buildings that towered just enough above the rest to slow down his fall. 

If there were onlookers, the effect would be negligible to the human eye. 

Each subsequent crash was easily shielded by Satoru’s Limitless, but that did not mean the pressure of compression from each impact would not be felt. Nor was he safe from the final plummet into the ground, collapsing the already unstable three-story complex over his head. His back took the brunt of this hit, leaving him sprawled across the remains of a basement level now filled in with rubble intent on burying him just centimeters away from his nose. The reverse cursed technique had already taken effect, immediately healing his physical injuries while the ghastly reminder of that sucker punch continued to leave Satoru’s head swirling into overtime as he forced himself to catch up. 

What. The. Fuck!?

Enraged, Satoru spread both his hands as far as he could before manifesting a red glow around his body. Debris plumed into the air, erupting from what he refused to be his coffin to clear the area, uncaring which direction he’d sent the concrete, wood, shattered glass and anything else this long abandoned building had left within it. There would be no time to rest. As soon as he stood on his feet, Sukuna caught up to him, standing over the edge of the newly formed crater with one hand still in his pocket, the other stretched out just enough to gesture for Satoru to either return the volley or lie down and accept his death. 

It should be quite obvious which choice Satoru would make, but the teeth poking out of that curse’s smug grin had him more determined than ever to see that mug wiped clean. 

“I’m sorry, Yuji-kun.” 

It pained Satoru to do this, but there was no way out of engaging with Sukuna in combat. Nor would he wish to avoid it even if there were. That curse had a lot coming to him, and after the day he had, Satoru was more than willing to take out his own frustration on the new punching bag before him so long as he didn’t leave any lasting damage for when Yuji woke up after this was over. 

Satoru pointed two fingers forward, his thumb angled toward the sky as a condensed ball of red light swirls into being just beyond his fingertips. He wasted no time shooting it, willing the blast to detonate upon colliding with the so-called King of Curses to launch him as far back as possible. After witnessing Sukuna crack open his Limitless, the name of the game was to keep his distance to avoid having to take any more unnecessary hits. 

From what he paid attention to during Yaga’s third-year lectures, Satoru was ninety percent sure Sukuna had used Domain Amplification against him, a subset ability of Domain Expansion. The curse was using it to nullify his Limitless and strike him directly. The drawback of this technique was the denial of activating one’s innate technique at the same time as extending one’s innate domain in this fashion. If Satoru pushed Sukuna back, he’d force the curse to rely on techniques, which in turn, shouldn’t be able to reach him. 

Choso had mentioned that Yuji was abnormally strong. Suguru had confirmed his inhuman speed while they were messing around on the track. Any curse would enhance their vessel’s base strength, leaving Satoru not so eager to experience this disgusting combination over and over again. 

Satoru spammed blast after blast, running as he did in parallel to the curse following his every step. Miss after miss, it did not matter what object broke their line of sight as Satoru would happily blast through each vehicle to provide cover through the smoke and ash of their explosive end as he jumped into the air above to the curse by surprise. Hovering above their battlefield, Satoru switched from Red to Blue, one hand to two, in an effort to ground the curse with an invisible pressure drawing him toward the earth’s center. First his ankles, then his knees, it wasn’t enough to lodge Sukuna into the ground, but to bury him in kind just as Satoru had been with any object subjected to Blue’s attractive property. 

By the time he was down, the intersection he continued to fly over had been leveled at least three buildings deep down either road. Telephone lines had been torn and dragged to the center, creating a domino effect lasting several blocks long until the line eventually snapped, sending sparks flying in the air just as the dust began to settle. 

Satoru wasn’t optimistic enough to believe that this was enough to hold the curse down forever, let alone claim victory, but he would use this moment to take in as much oxygen as he could as he readied another blast of Red to strike without the fear of missing. If enough damage was dealt, then maybe—

“Satoru!”

From further above in the sky came Suguru’s voice, carried by the blistering wind. He rode upon the back of a cursed spirit Satoru had seen plenty of times over. The derpy stingray not only fit Suguru, but a frantic Choso clinging to his back behind them. Relief flooded through Satoru’s nervous system, dousing the fire that had previously set them aflame when Sukuna had first sought to fight him alone. As much as he would demand to continue this fight with just the two of them, Satoru wasn’t here to play fair. He’d remained to get Yuji back, refusing all other options as such a task should be expected from a sorcerer of his caliber. 

“I’m not killing another vessel.”

Nor would Satoru allow anyone else to, be it another sorcerer or the very curse keeping Yuji hostage.

Suguru and Choso landed on the roof of a half-collapsed convenience store. The street-facing front had been totaled beyond repair, leaving the unfortunate business unrecognizable beyond its use as a suitable platform to view the ongoing fight. With Sukuna still trapped underneath the rubble, held down by the continuous use of Satoru’s Blue, said teenager was confident enough in descending just enough to carry a conversation without having to strain his vocal cords from screaming any louder than necessary. 

Upon his approach, Satoru could see just how ragged his backup had become from fighting to keep up with his and Yuji’s departure from Jujutsu Tech. They must have taken the next immediate train, and then flown the rest of the way from the city once they arrived in Akita. The bags under Suguru’s eyes said more than his capable stance, while Choso’s partially undone hair and frantic look fit his building fear from Yuji’s absence and the text they’d received just moments ago. 

“What happened?”

“Where’s Yuji!?”

Suguru and Choso demanded answers in unison, with Choso side-stepping Satoru to view the crater behind him. He was shaking, already aware of the presence Satoru was keeping at bay, and now the cracks that have begun to form through his cursed technique as Sukuna once again amplified his domain. 

“My brother—” Choso glared daggers through Satoru, accusing him of causing this disaster. He wasn’t wrong. “How did this happen!?”

“Sukuna. Binding vow. Yuji didn’t know— Shit, move!”

The activation of Blue within the same fraction of a second that Satoru clutched both Suguru and Choso’s sleeves within his hands moved all three from one roof to another. The movement was instantaneous and one Satoru could repeat in short bursts while long-distance travel still eluded him. From their new vantage point, Satoru spun around just in time to watch Sukuna crawl free from the ground. The curse then jumped forward, landing atop the roof’s edge. One hand brushed off the dirt on his clothes before deeming it a lost cause, thus choosing to tear off the school’s jacket, even taking a small chunk of Yuji’s red hoodie with it to be tossed and discarded over the edge behind him.

The chains of the binding vow were gone, yet Sukuna remained in control with little sign of losing it. What other factors had come into play whenever Yuji had lost control? Emotional duress? Satoru cursed under his breath, believing that the curse had been waiting for all this pain and revelation that came with Yuji’s attempt to right the wrongs of their future come to a head. Something was bound to go wrong. When has the universe ever been kind enough to let them have any prolonged sense of peace? 

Satoru’s decision to bring Yuji to Akita had only made things worse. All he wanted was catharsis… How was he supposed to know that the cursed spirit responsible for killing Haibara had any connection to Yuji? What kind of shit luck was that!?

“We need to reach Yuji and get him back in the driver’s seat.” Satoru declared, finding no objection behind him. He then cupped his hand over his mouth to shout past the curse and to the soul trapped beneath Sukuna’s overwhelming presence. “Sensei’s going to make things right! You hear me, Yuji?”

“The brat can’t hear you. Try as you might, but your effort will yield nothing. And as disappointing as it is to see you already resorting to the aid of others, the least you could do is fight with the intent to kill.” Sukuna stepped forward, now irritated. “I’ll be sure he relives the memory of today once I’ve removed your head from your shoulders and tore out your eyes as a trophy.”

“Aren’t you sweet?” 

Satoru rushed forward, taking point as he changed his tactics to better suit a fight with three against one. The range of his attacks had changed, as he couldn’t reliably use long-range abilities without risking Suguru or Choso getting caught up within them. Instead, he accumulated his cursed energy around his fists, activating Blue to enhance each strike as he exchanged a round of blows with the curse in an effort to throw him off this very roof.

Said goal did not go entirely as planned, as his next jab would get caught, Sukuna’s hands latching onto his wrist and upper arm to be spun over his shoulder and chucked off the edge. The curse extended his foot as they fell, digging his heel into Satoru’s stomach right as they braced for the impact of the concrete shattering against the sorcerer’s back. Something cracked inside his chest, but that went ignored by Satoru’s ears.

Choking, but not completely out of breath, Satoru attempted to blast a concentrated ball of Red from his now twisted and still restrained arm. The curse would not have it, but before Sukuna made a move to break his wrist or crush his fingers, a blur of black and red swung at his head and threw him several buildings down the road.  

Suguru had jumped down after them, boasting a weapon in hand that Satoru hadn’t seen him use before. A red three-sectioned staff connected by three rings between each end. The pattern on the ends was familiar enough for Satoru to believe he’d heard of it somewhere, but now was not the time to ponder over where. Currently, all three pieces of the staff rested in Suguru’s left hand, as his right was outstretched for Satoru to grab and be yanked back to his feet.

“Are you alright?”

“Reverse cursed technique says I am.” Satoru rolled his shoulder until it no longer protested against him. He then clasped his hand against Suguru’s back, once again utilizing Blue to fling them forward at insurmountable speed. 

Suguru swung his staff again, swapping the placement of his hands amongst the segments to keep the flow of his movements continuous. Sukuna dodges each attack with ease, using his hands to block and parry Satoru’s barrage of strikes. Right jab. Side step. Uppercut from the left. The curse’s eyes never parted from Satoru’s even as the three became entangled in this chaotic dance, as Sukuna’s attention continued to overlook Suguru no matter how aggressive his classmate’s movement had become. If Suguru’s attack missed, the surrounding environment paid for it in droves as the staff in his hands amplified his own cursed energy to wreak havoc on anything it came into contact with. 

A ping in the back of their minds sent both Satoru and Suguru jumping back as they sensed the Death Painting dropping down from above. Choso landed on one knee, separating all three combatants with his arrival. He’d remained observant until now, his tolerance for the battle reaching its limit. With arms crossed and fists raised, blood poured out from the edges of Choso’s eyes, bending and contorting in the air until several red blobs hovered around his head. If there were still any doubts regarding his origin, the use of the Kamo clan’s Blood Manipulation Technique was enough to see them silent. 

“I don’t wish to fight you again, little brother.” Choso stood tall, uncurling his fingers in preparation to manipulate his projectiles further. 

“You’re no brother of mine.”

The curse’s sneer was enough to set Choso off, leading to a volley of sharpened blood to tear through the air once the palms of his hands met. Just as Sukuna had dodged Suguru’s attacks, the initial round of fire would be weaved through with ease. The curse charged forward, ducking a weaving through what should have been an erratic and unpredictable round of attacks as Choso could manipulate their direction, no matter how harshly, without any loss in speed. 

Why wasn’t Sukuna striking back with his cursed technique?

Satoru was familiar enough with the legend to know of his slash-based attacks. Yet, in this instance, Sukuna rushed Choso with another round of hand-to-hand blows, effectively overwhelming Yuji’s older brother until he was forced to summon more blood than a normal human should be able to muster. Liquid red coated Choso’s fists, not to empower his strikes, but to blast forth in an effect akin to a shotgun going off at point-blank range once he made his first connection with Sukuna’s open palm, then the curse’s lower rib cage after clouding his vision. 

Sukuna skirted back, Yuji’s body appearing worn and covered in minor lesions that showed no sign of healing despite his ample ability to do so. Bruising had begun to settle in, and as Sukuna caught a hand on his knee to avoid a complete stagger, Satoru dove in to jam his knuckles into the curse’s jaw. He soon ducked just as two additional arrows of blood shot out from Choso’s hands, aiming for the shoulders to sever Sukuna’s control over Yuji’s arms. 

“Release him.”

All Choso received was a smirk from Sukuna as the curse cocked back his head. Satoru noticed the energy in Yuji’s body shifting once more, his eyes picking up on the activation of Sukuna’s own reverse cursed technique to seal the holes in his shoulder blades and repair the necessary muscle to undo the damage Choso inflicted. The rest of the body remained untouched, leading Satoru to realize the lack of healing was intentional. If Yuji were to take back control after all this—Not if. When. 

With the use of his arms restored, Sukuna remains in place to form a mudra from two separate pieces about to be made whole. The curse brought his hands together just as Choso shouted a warning as he’d already put together what Sukuna was doing. Suguru had picked up on it as well, already summoning his curses to claw and ensnare Sukuna’s arms from the pools of cursed energy oozing out from the ground. A mix of hands, claws, vines, and whatever monstrous creatures Suguru had brought forth tore Sukuna’s hands apart, while the hand of a giant manifested overhead and slammed the curse to the ground. 

The King of Curses was brought to his knees. His arms twisted and hoisted up over his head as his face hit the ground twice over. Suguru’s cursed spirits were relentless, but as much as it pained Satoru to look on, it was necessary to keep Sukuna down as long as possible while they dealt with the nigh impossible task of forcing Sukuna to retreat should Yuji be unable to take back his body on his own. It looked to be effective enough, as the only movement from Sukuna that Satoru could make out was the spitting of blood from his lips at their feet. The curse then lifted his head, eyes scrunched together as labored breaths broke up the words escaping his mouth. 

“Ch-Choso…”

The weak cry of Yuji’s voice tumbled out, beckoning his brother close. On the verge of tears, through the pieces of Sukuna still overlapping his face, it appeared that Yuji’s will had broken through. His desperate sobs had finally surfaced.

“It hurts. B-Big brother, I can’t—I need—”

“Yuji!” Choso rushed forward, dropping the remnants of his technique he’d prepared for another attack in favor of clutching the battered teenager as tightly as he could. “I’m here. Your big brother is here— You’re going to be alright.”

Yuji’s brother looked over his shoulder for affirmation, pleading with the older teenagers to do what they could to get Yuji the support and care he needed to recover from this horrid event. None of it would be up for debate, as Satoru wouldn’t dream of doing anything less.

“Choso… I-It’s my fault. I-It’s all m-my fault.”

The reunion, as touching as it was, did not sit well. Unease stirred in the pit of Gojo’s stomach as questioned just how easy it had been to get to his point. On the surface, it had truly looked as though Yuji had returned to them, but if he peered just a bit deeper with his Six Eyes to alleviate any question… Shit.

“Choso! Don’t listen to him!” Gojo dashed forward, intent on grabbing the Death Painting and dragging him back, having seen this once before already within the very same day. “That’s—!”

Suguru’s cursed spirits were shred to ash without so much as a thought, leaving the one responsible free to move as he pleased. No longer bound, Yuji’s hand thrust forward and burst through the center of Choso’s chest, tearing through any bones and organs that stood in the way of his desire to hollow out the Death Painting completely.

Unlike his younger brother, Choso did not heed his warning nor think twice about the person before him. Too blinded by his adoration for his family and his role as guardian, he would not dare forsake his brother’s side as even questioning the truth of the boy in his arms wasn’t considered an option. What was arguably his greatest strength had also become his most glaring weakness. It was a weakness Sukuna had found no shame in exploiting, showing genuine glee at the blood now coating his arm after gutting his vessel’s elder brother through. 

“I told you,” The curse whispered, pausing just long enough to watch Choso’s body collapse around his hand. “And you still made it so easy… Disgusting.”

Sukuna yanked out his arm, freeing himself from Choso’s limp body as he chucked it aside, content to lick the cold blood off his thumb. 

No.

Choso will be fine. 

There’s still some cursed energy, and he’s not entirely human, maybe if they—

Enraged, Suguru reacted first. With his staff in hand, he roared as he barreled toward the curse. He first struck from his right, then his left, intent on alternating until Sukuna ducked underneath the second blow to catch the incoming weapon. With two hands spin it out of Suguru’s grasp. The momentum from the maneuver brought the attack full circle, turning the staff against Suguru in one clean motion. Disarmed and countered, Suguru was flung back, forced to catch himself if he didn’t want to be tossed completely to the ground. 

“Itadori! You wanted to rewrite history in an effort to forge a better one, didn't you!?” A scoff rang out as Suguru defiantly raised his head. Sukuna weighed the staff still in his hands, not particularly impressed with it even as he mockingly swung one segment around to test its range of motion. “Your will supersedes his. Take back your body and see that your determination doesn’t end up in vain.”

“You may be Kenjaku’s puppet, but that does not mean I have any duty to spare you.”

The curse raised his hand, telegraphing his intent just enough for Suguru to summon a ball-like cursed spirit to envelop him just as an invisible barrage of blades cut through the air. The uttering of a single word had not only torn through the cursed spirit’s hide, but the several other small creatures Suguru had placed between himself and Sukuna’s technique to tank the majority of the damage inflicted.

That did not mean that Suguru had made a clean escape, as there was no hiding the tears in his uniform nor the blood dripping from his chest. Clutching his wounds did nothing to stop the bleeding, leaving Satoru to interject unless he wished to see Suguru diced to pieces before his very eyes. 

Just as Suguru’s attack had been blocked, so too had Satoru’s fist. Sukuna reacted with perfect timing, refusing to budge or falter in his stance even as Satoru had increased the power behind his strike. Thus, the teenager remained hanging in the air, his knuckles against Sukuna’s palm.

“How truly disappointing if this is all you can offer.” The curse amplified his domain, allowing his fingers to break through Satoru’s Limitless and crush the bones with his hands. A shameful cry broke out of Satoru’s throat, though he would not shed any tears over the excruciating pain each additional snap brought with it. “You’re supposed to be the strongest of this era, are you not? Yet I don’t see any inkling of a domain, and you haven’t even thought to use your Hollow Purple technique against me. Is this all because you’re afraid of losing your ‘precious student?’”

“Come on, Yuji!” Satoru called out through his clenched teeth. “Nap time’s over!”

“Are you deaf?” 

Vexed, Sukuna threw Satoru to the ground. The curse’s next move was to strike with Suguru’s staff, intent on breaking Satoru further if it wasn’t for the cursed spirits being thrown in his direction. From the ground, Suguru fired cursed spirit after cursed spirit. Small ethereal squids flew through the air like arrows, lacking in power individually but making up for their individual weakness by being distracting enough for Satoru to climb to his feet and fire an activation of Red. He would do so again, and again, following in Choso’s lead of aiming for Yuji’s extremities in order to incapacitate the curse as much as possible. 

“Satoru!” Suguru’s warning came too late to be useful, as Sukuna was already in the air with his hand outstretched as he once again activated his cursed technique.

“Dismantle.”

The curse did not aim at either sorcerer. Instead, his target was the ground from which they stood, ushering in instability that shook the ground and caused the earth beneath it to erupt while buildings fell on every one of Satoru’s sides. It was when the foundation of the tallest building shattered did Sukuna descend, keeping the teenager on his back foot as they fought through the collapsing building while dodging the wreckage seeking to bury them both. The split of Satoru’s attention between his degrading surroundings, the unknown whereabouts of Suguru, and Sukuna’s unrelenting assault had left him open more than he’d wished. 

“Tsk. You’re barely half the man he was.” The curse growled as he paid Satoru back for the previous stroke against his face. “Not nearly as powerful or skilled—If this truly is all this era has to show for the progress of sorcery, then I can only weep what has been lost.”

“I’ll give you a whole lot more to cry over!” 

The last of the buildings collapsed, returning dust to the air and hindering all sight. Satoru lungs burned from the internal serrations forming with each breath, leaving him grasping for his mouth in a feeble attempt to cover his nose and mouth. His Six Eyes were what allowed him to keep track of Sukuna, granting him enough visual aid to skip and slide out of the next series of punches until the curse dropped to the ground, fingers spread to support his weight in order to sweep Satoru off balance with a low kick. A hasty spin brought Sukuna back up, though Satoru had used this opportunity to catch his fall in a less than stellar backflip to land facing the curse with some distance between them. 

It was time to back up his words. But Satoru didn’t know what means of attack to perform next. Neither of his techniques had dealt lasting damage, and Sukuna was right about him holding back from attempting anything more extreme. Relying on Hollow Purple was the same as admitting defeat against his goal, yet if that were the only way he and Suguru were to make it out alive…

Satoru readied the activation of Red, building as much power as he could with a series of chants as one last bid to deal enough damage in the hopes of forcing Sukuna’s grip on Yuji to slip. After he raised both hands in the air, Satoru took a painful breath to begin… only to stop before the first syllable could be uttered. 

That was when he felt it.

A line of burning heat crossed diagonally along his chest. Acute pain followed the line across, repeated with each subsequent slash cascading down his arms, legs, and even the right side of his cheek. Blood pooled against the surface of such a fine cut, dripping down the edge of Satoru’s face as he was left to stare blankly at the curse who had not moved nor said a single word to activate the very technique ravaging the surface of his body. 

How long has his Limitless been inactive?

He’d known Sukuna could break through it with Domain Amplification, but the curse shouldn’t have been able to activate his cursed technique at the same time! Unless he switched between either state seamlessly, before Satoru could even comprehend what had happened within the brief window his own cursed technique had been nullified… But still. He was Gojo Satoru. He was supposed to be untouchable. The strongest. To not even perceive the attack against him, to realize that these surface-level wounds weren’t a product of his resistance or skill, but Sukuna’s own restraint… All three of them could have been killed the moment Sukuna had taken over, yet the curse had chosen to toy with them instead!

Why?

What was the damn point!?

“Your reaction time is pitiful.” Sukuna mocked, his presence disappearing and reappearing behind him due to moving at an incomprehensible speed. Satoru could feel the curse breathing down his neck, sending every hair standing straight, screaming for him to move. But when he did, the curse had already beat him to it. Sukuna’s hand clasped the top of his head, yanking as much as Satoru’s hair as he could his grip remained as he turned and slammed Satoru’s head into the nearest concrete wall. “How were you supposed to be a challenge to me? Hm? Even with two others, you fall just as any other insect that crawled into my way.”

Disoriented, Satoru could only be thankful that the curse let go on the second shove, leaving him a moment to heal the throbbing pain pounding against the interior of his skull. The only thing that could make this day worse was if Sukuna had moved to split his head open, but such a thought would only kick Satoru while he was already down as from the corner of his eyes, he caught Sukuna creating the mudra for his domain once more. 

This couldn’t be it, could it? Satoru was adamant to see his prophesied future changed, but not like this. 

“I’m done here. You bore me.”

“Wait!” Satoru shot up his hand in a desperate bid for Sukuna to reconsider. So far, his success took the form of a skeptical raise of Sukuna’s eyebrow, which was enough for Satoru to swallow what little pride he had left in hopes of reaching some kind of deal. “You’re right. I’m not him. My future counterpart has a decade on me, so of course I’m not going to compare.”

Admitting his shortcomings had filled his throat with bile, but that did not make them any less true.

“But! I will be like him someday, won’t I? You know I have more to learn about the nature of my cursed technique and there are levels of strength beyond where I currently am that I have yet to achieve. Killing me now would rid you of that fight you were seeking, wouldn’t it?” His balance was failing him, but once he could feel the effects of the reverse cursed technique refreshing his brain, standing became less of a chore. His effort, however, was met with cold opposition.

“You’re wrong.”

He’s… wrong?

“If Tengen is to be believed, then in time, I will return exactly where I left off with the beginning of this era’s end to welcome me. I have a superior version of you waiting to be broken free. Whether your counterpart’s students release him from the Prison Realm or I take it upon myself to dig my claws in and crack it open, our fight will come.”

“But, if you kill me now, your future—”

“Will either remain the same or it won’t. With no evidence to suggest anything I do now will have a profound effect on the world I return to, I’m content with taking my chances.” Sukuna resumed the formation of his mudra. “I have a vow to keep, and while you aren’t my first kill while in control of this body, your demise became inevitable the moment I declared it so.”

From behind him, Satoru’s eyes widened at the sight of Suguru peeking over the crushed remains of a car with his hands out, another attack at the ready despite the horrid shape he was in. If this were any other moment, Satoru would have been grateful to see him, but not now. Not in the brief second of silence before the curse brought his city-destroying domain into being.

This was the moment Satoru could either close his eyes and accept his so-called determined fate, or pray neither brother cursed him as he brought forth the beginnings of both Red and Blue within his hands. His own domain had yet to solidify into being. To force it now would see it crumble underneath whatever monstrosity Sukuna was on the verge of summoning. He may not be able to tank the damage of the curse’s domain completely, but if he got off a single, concentrated attack and dragged that bastard to hell with him, then perhaps not every effort would be in vain. 

Yaga knew enough to protect their Yuji from the Sukuna of their time. Shoko would do her best to keep an eye out too. It was an unfair burden to place on them, but when nothing else could be done while the air turned stagnant and a crimson hue overtook the sky.

"Domain Expansion: Malevolent—”

Suddenly, Sukuna ceased all movement. 

His cursed energy froze all the same, first acting as a thick blanket of miasma before dissipating completely. The curse’s four eyes all stared blankly ahead, his stance initially stiff until the secondary set slowly closed shut and his body swayed in increasingly greater motions. 

A miracle— Yuji —had found the most dramatic and heart-attack-inducing moment to take control from the curse just as Satoru’s own hope had dashed away. He knew it to be true, as not only were the curse’s markings fading from his skin, but his soul shining so ungodly bright had pierced through the prison keeping his consciousness at bay. 

“Yuji!”

Satoru ran forward, tripping over his own shaking feet before sliding beneath the younger teenager to catch him before reaching the ground. The dead weight had Satoru stumbling back, unable to balance on his toes, and forced to take a knee as he checked Yuji’s vitals. He had to pull Yuji away from his neck, opting to turn him around as gently as he could so that his head rested in his lap. 

By the time he was searching for a heartbeat, Suguru had hobbled over and joined Yuji’s side, taking note of the extensive amount of damage the curse had willingly left for his vessel to deal with. A punishment for his defiance. Yet, this was nothing in comparison to the literal death Yuji faced the first time Sukuna had sought to deny him access to his own body.

“He’s— His heart is beating. Ok, that means he’s breathing, right?” Satoru placed his hand just below Yuji’s nose next, another resting over his chest, happy to report that it was rising and falling even if the strength of his breaths was weak and the pacing was too inconsistent for his liking. “He’s breathing. Thank fuck—Suguru, he’s breathing.”

“He’s breathing.” Suguru repeated. He was about to say more, potentially reach out his own hand, but Satoru would never know for what reason as the faint stir Yuji made had taken hold of their attention in full. 

It was obvious that Yuji was having trouble moving. His hands could do no more than twitch a couple of his fingers while his legs wouldn’t so much as budge. The most he could do was force his head to turn, his eyes prying open through the swollen cheeks intent on keeping them shut to confirm no trace of that curse’s scarlet hue remained within them. 

“Yuji?” Satoru called out, softly tapping the side of his arm as a means of keeping him awake. “Hey, stay with us. We’re going to get you help. One of us has to have a working phone. I'm sure we can convince Shoko to meet us halfway—Yuji, listen to me. We’re all safe now. We’re all safe thanks to you.”

His words didn’t appear to reach Yuji’s ears, as the younger teenager continued to stare off somewhere into the sky. They would give him a moment to regain his bearings, as neither knew the complexity of having to usurp control from a curse that until moments ago, had every muscle and bone to his beck and call. However much time he needed, it was Yuji’s to have. But just when Satoru had resigned to not receiving an immediate answer, his future student turned his head just enough to face Suguru directly in the eyes.

“W-Why?” Yuji had to strain his vocal cords to talk. If his first word hadn’t been so damn confusing, Satoru would have insisted he remained quiet to conserve his energy. “Why d-didn’t you… kill me?”

What?

Satoru flickered between the pair, unsure where he’d missed whatever context needed to understand why Yuji was asking that of Suguru when it was Satoru who’d failed to consider the trigger until the very last second. 

“Itadori…” Suguru lowered his head, unable to look at him as a tear broke out from the edge of Yuji’s eyes. 

 “I-It’s my fault. Y-your hurt. And Ch-Choso is—He’s—” Practically choking on his own blood and spit, Satoru had to prop him up to keep it from flowing into his lungs. Patting his back had been enough to cause him to clear the contents of his throat onto the ground. It wouldn’t right the wrong in Yuji’s eyes, but it was all Satoru could do as he continued to look after him in silence. 

“Sukuna was the one who—”

“And I was the one stupid enough to make a binding vow with him!” Yuji cut Suguru off with a blood-curdling scream. “I-I remember it all now. I’d thought I could get a better deal by agreeing to a fight, but just as we had agreed to the terms— I should have stayed dead! Then he wouldn’t have h-hurt anyone else and my b-brothers would still be alive. You both came so close to—”

“I, for one, am grateful to see that you still live.”

All three heads snapped in the direction of a fourth and unexpected voice. To see Choso standing above the wreckage, hand against his waist as he trudged toward the trio had Satoru assuming he’d lost it. The visage of Choso’s gutted body still remained freshly seared into his memory and the drenched hole in his clothes was only further proof of it, yet here Choso was, defying death as explanation soon filled the confusion riddling their minds. 

Choso was only half human. Beyond that, the ability to manipulate his own blood and seemingly create a multitude of more when desired through his own cursed energy was enough to have kept him alive regardless of how fatal his wound should have been to a standard sorcerer. 

“Ch-Choso…”

“I’m here.” The Death Painting fell to Yuji’s free side, quick to take Yuji into his arms with no hesitation. Prior circumstances be damned, because even if there were another trick, Choso would never give up on the possibility of his brother truly being in need. “I promise I am not going anywhere. I’ll always be by your side.”

“Y-Your hurt. I hurt you—”

“I’ll heal. And so will you. You're safe, so please rest.”

Yuji was about to protest further, but nothing coherent could be heard amongst his whimpers. It would take a long time to see the younger teenager to even pretend to be calm, but that didn’t matter. Choso would keep him close, a hand softly brushing through his hair as the group worked through the last of the adrenaline still pounding through their ears. 

Finally, this hell was over.

Without Yuji’s head on his lap, Satoru allowed himself to stand. His glasses had flown off somewhere in the midst of their fight, leaving him squinting against the evening sun which had sought to vindictively blind him as he surveyed the damage to the town caused by both sorcerer and curse alike. If the assistant was still clinging around the outskirts, Satoru would have to track him down and assure his silence on what truly happened. He didn’t mind taking the blame entirely in Yuji’s stead, as doing so would delay any formal investigation questioning how such an unruly outburst against an empty town had come to be in the first place.

There were benefits that came with being the head of his clan. Just as there were responsibilities with being the supposed strongest sorcerer even when his very identity had been contradicted by the curse who would have won if Yuji hadn’t come back to them. 

Satoru stepped back from the group, hands in his pockets in search of his phone. His excuse to walk away and separate himself. He couldn’t continue hearing Yuji continuously take the blame for today’s absolute blunder, or anything that Sukuna had done while in use of his body.

It wasn’t Yuji’s fault it came to this.

It was Satoru’s.

The sound of rubber against concrete echoed through the desolate hall. Satoru sat on the ground, his back against the wall as he went through the repetitive motion of throwing and catching the same ball as he couldn’t find a better way to pass the time. 

On the other side of the wall behind him was the Isolation Chamber. A room buried underground, covered in talismans which made it impossible to see the walls or ceiling by how densely packed they were. Various curses were infused around the perimeter, acting as a formidable cage to prevent the escape of any who were being kept inside. Yuji had insisted he be placed within it once Shoko had healed his wounds. There was no arguing with him, as even though Sukuna had already used their binding vow to its completion, Yuji would not take any additional chances. He had gone so far as to stomp toward the chamber himself if no one would step up to escort him. 

That was the last Satoru had heard Yuji speak. Choso may have had better luck, as he’d refused to part from Yuji’s side. The only saving grace from all this was that Yuji wasn’t suffocating in that God-forsaken chamber alone. 

Satoru’s grip on the ball tightened. His throws carried more strength behind them as he whipped the ball just hard enough for it to sound as though it cracked upon hitting the wall. But it was more durable than that, allowing Satoru to continue venting out his frustration on the rubber sphere as he continued to replay yesterday’s events in his mind. 

He hadn’t been strong enough to face Sukuna alone. Contrary to how Yuji perceived him, with more faith in him than the entire world, Satoru had let him down. Being the strongest meant nothing in comparison to what the future brought with it. Satoru knew that now, after having so naively believed he could brute force his way through every obstacle without much care as he always had. His last near-death experience had ushered a wave of enlightenment within. The secret of the reverse cursed technique, access to his clan’s most powerful weapon in the form of Hollow Purple. There should be nothing that could challenge him, yet Sukuna, still five fingers away from regaining the entirety of his lost power, had managed to make a mockery of him.

Sure, if Satoru had been fighting to kill, perhaps things could have gone differently. If he’d struck Sukuna first without hesitation. If he’d cut his losses quicker, accepting Yuji’s unfortunate fate while knowing there was another version of him out there he could watch over in penance for his sins. Or just as equally possible, things could have gone worse. The very fact that Satoru couldn’t know for sure had him infuriated beyond belief. 

“I’m going to get even stronger than my future self.” Satoru chucked the ball once more with all his might. “That’ll show that smug bastard! And next time, I’ll be ready to erase each and every piece of his being off the face of this earth—”

“That’s your takeaway from this?” 

Suguru’s voice had reached Satoru before his footsteps had, distracting him enough to forget about catching the ball he’d thrown. His Limitless should have caught it in his stead, but with his mind under so much turmoil, the blasted thing had hit him directly atop his skull.

“Damn it!” Satoru cursed as he rubbed his head while looking around to find where the ball had rolled off to under the less-than-stellar lighting this dreary hall provided. “Who let you free from your hospital bed?”

“The same person who kicked up a storm the moment you declared yourself no longer in need of her.” 

Healing with cursed energy could only do so much. Regardless of the amount of energy put into the technique, the body of most people would still need time to rest from the stress of accumulating damage and forcing replacement cells to heal the wounded area. Suguru had always been physically stronger than his classmates, which meant there was little question that he would recover quickly. Whether he should still take it easy regardless, that was his decision. One he would toss aside in favor of coming down here for a reason Satoru couldn’t possibly look forward to.

“If you’re here to say ‘I told you so,’ don’t bother. I already regret taking Yuji with me enough as it is.”

“I’m not here to kick you while you're down.” Suguru sighed, instead taking aim at the ball against his feet. A light kick sent it barreling into Satoru’s waist, the impact soft enough to avoid rolling off elsewhere when it came to a stop. “You weren’t at the nurse’s office when I woke up. Or at the dorms, so I figured you were here. You spent the whole night outside this room, didn’t you?”

“So?”

“You’re already punishing yourself as it is.” His friend invited himself over to sit at his side. “Far be it from me to give you a lecture over something you couldn’t have seen coming.” 

“Does that matter?”

“Hm?”

“Whether or not I knew it would happen?” Satoru pulled his leg flush against his chest, then threaded his fingers over his knee to keep it in place. His cheek now had something to rest on when he no longer had the energy to prevent himself from slumping forward. “I took Yuji with me, thinking that we’re similar enough to use exorcizing that curse to feel… something other than anger over something I should have—And when things didn’t go the way I hoped, I couldn’t calm him down. I couldn’t do anything but watch as Sukuna took advantage of the state that I put him in. It’s my fault Sukuna was able to take over beyond the limit of their binding vow. And it’s because I wasn’t strong enough that I couldn’t do a damn thing to save our skins when it mattered.” 

Choso had watched Yuji’s autonomy be stripped away. Yuji had almost lost another brother with his own two hands. Satoru had almost lost the very person whom he thought understood him the most. The one he could not see himself living without, especially in the utter mess of a future they had yet to contend with.

The outcome of his and Sukuna’s fight hadn’t truly sunk in until the following day. Everything had moved so quickly, his attention bouncing from relief at seeing Yuji back in control, only to become agitated and restless while getting the others back to Jujutsu Tech to be treated. 

“You’re barely half the man he was.”

Sukuna’s words wouldn’t stop repeating themselves in Satoru’s mind. The curse’s fangs had pierced deep within his skin, continuing to gnaw away each time Satoru let himself be drawn back to that callous truth. A truth that, for a while, Satoru had accepted because that’s simply how time worked.

The Satoru of Yuji’s future was not the same person he was today. He had time to learn, fuel his growth, and experience… loss. There were going to be differences. No amount of insistence and determination would change that. But after what Satoru had heard, after seeing with his very eyes Yuji’s face full of hope and longing every time he spoke of his future counterpart, after hearing just how much the same King of Curses who saw nothing of value in him, yet continued to seek combat with the Satoru he was more familiar with… Satoru couldn’t help but want to be his future self. More than that, he wanted to be better than him. Both out of spite and to live up to the expectations that came with his position as Gojo Satoru, the supposedly strongest sorcerer of their age. 

No longer was Satoru looking forward to reaching the same checkpoints as his future counterpart in his search for greater heights of his power. He had to keep going. To do better, because if he couldn’t—

“It’s so stupid. It’s stupid because… my future counterpart got himself into some real shit. He’s— We’re —supposed to be the strongest and yet one wrong move brings the end of days. I thought that after being handed the literal cheat codes to a better future, I could be better than him.”

Satoru paused, his eyes falling to the ground as he let his emotions run rampant.

“So far, I feel like I’ve already done worse.”

The whole trip had been a failure. All they had to show for exorcizing that curse was a half-leveled town and a cavalcade of injuries. They had not even managed to recover his damn body…

Suguru picked the rubber off the ground to first toss it straight up into the air in order to get a feel for how his hand would catch it. Once back in his hand, he threw it across the hall just as Satoru had.

“What you didn’t know going into Akita matters. You didn’t know about Itadori and Sukuna’s binding vow. Just as Itadori hadn’t known about how Haibara died before his time. There are some things, as awful as it is to admit, that we don’t know and it’s no fault of ours.”

“But if it's not my fault, then what is it?” The ball veered left on its next rebound, leading to Satoru catching it instead. “Just because we didn’t know when or where, that didn’t stop us from telling Haibara what would happen to him and it didn’t do jack shit when it should have. Or maybe I should have fought harder to return to everyone once my initial mission was done. The chances of them being assigned that mission—”

“—Would have remained the same since their assignment was based on a misidentification of the cursed spirit in question.” Suguru was becoming short with him as he reached over and stole the ball from his hand. He refrained from throwing it again. “Whether it was bound to happen or not…”

“Then we just have shit luck, is that what you’re telling me? Fate has it out for us? No matter what I do, it’ll all come crashing down because God forbid there’s always one variable we can’t keep track of and that’s the one intent on screwing us over?” Satoru sneered, his arms now up in the air as he sang sarcastic praise for Suguru’s uplifting words. “Wow, I feel so relieved. All my responsibility has been absolved. I can finally be at peace!”

“For the love of— Stop acting as if you're alone in deciding how the future plays out!” The sudden rise in volume had Satoru’s ears ringing as he flinched back in his seat. Suguru was cross. More than cross. He was downright pissed with the rubber ball taking on the brunt of his anger. “You and Itadori both put yourselves at the center of all wrongdoings as if you’re both martyrs. I would dare say he gets it from your future self, but your difference in circumstances have both led you down to the same self-destructive conclusion.”

Wasn’t that how it was supposed to work? The world of curses and sorcery shook due to his very birth. Curses and curse users alike clung to the fringes of society in fear of his name. The combination of the Six Eyes and the Limitless was supposed to be unrivaled, especially when the only other who had challenged him one year prior had only propelled his development further. Yuji had made it clear just how much of the world’s stability rested on his shoulders by sharing what had happened after his future counterpart had been sealed. Direct responsibility, general cause and effect—Weren’t they one and the same?

“Yes, there are factors out of our control, but there are still plenty that we have a say in. All of our decisions matter in changing the future. Everything we say and do will shape the years to come. You are not alone in deciding what any of us do. Haibara… he saved Nanami not only because it's what he would have done, but because he knew that there was something for his classmate to look forward to in the years ahead. He saw that there was something good, something worth preserving, and he made it his mission to see it through.”

Satoru had said something similar to Yuji, in the rain while flooded in the headlights of his assistant's car. He'd said it as if those where the words that would cure the younger teenager’s guilt. Suguru said them for the same reason, only this time... Satoru gave Haibara’s actions proper consideration. This time Satoru would challenge his own hypocrisy. This time...

Suguru continued to face forward, letting his head hit the wall behind him in frustration. His breathing had become heavier, his eyes more exhausted than Satoru had realized before. Neither one of them had slept the night prior, but something was telling him that this was a culmination of many restless nights prior to this one.

“Even if it was his fate to die in Akita, I can’t afford to believe it's an omen for what may happen to the rest of us. You were the one who spoke so adamantly against it, so don’t give it the very power you've been undermining.”

“But…” But what? “Did you hear what Sukuna had said? About the inevitable?”

“Satoru, the curse claimed inevitability because he briefly held the power to see it so. But Sukuna doesn’t possess that power so long as Itadori is back to keeping him in check. We do. ” Suguru gave the ball another light toss, purposefully aiming for Satoru. “I’ve… given it a lot of thought, and I’ve decided on the path I want to take. One that I refuse to see end the same way as Itadori foretold.” 

Satoru wouldn’t allow that future to repeat itself either. The Suguru of Yuji’s future was dead, his body stolen. His memory dredged up for a game of charades all at his future counterpart’s expense. How it ended up that way, Satoru did not know, but he had a feeling that Suguru and Yuji held a much clearer picture. Morbid curiosity had Satoru itching to learn this awful secret, but he would not press for the details. His own mental block had paradoxically refused to hear even thought of learning them, as if it would manifest the very events to lead them there. 

Now, his reasoning was less about the if, and more about the respect he held for Suguru which prevented him from prying. If Suguru had truly wanted him to know, he’d tell him when he was ready. That was all Satoru could ask for. 

“It’s a path that I can take knowing we’ll still be together, even if circumstances temporarily bring us apart. Things will change, and we’ll change too, but like you’ve been saying we’re going to face this together.” Suguru extended his hand, offering his open palm which had previously held all his trepidation toward the future ahead. “Just knowing that… that is enough for me.”

“Suguru…” 

Satoru reached out to him, grasping his hand only briefly before slapping his palm and scoffing away the blush on his face. 

“You may have a point—” He had to pause until Suguru finished rolling his eyes. “—But I’m still going to work hard to get even stronger than even my counterpart was. Because after Sukuna, I now know what the minimum level of power I have to strike for, then exceed it by tenfold. If not for the general sake of me being stronger, therefore everyone else is less of a threat, then it's the very selfish reason for wanting to shove my superiority into that curse’s face if we end up at each other’s throats again. I need to reclaim my title, you know?”

“You’re hopeless. Even after everything I said… You’re going to leave me behind if you keep talking like that.” Suguru tried not to show it, but Satoru’s word had gotten to him. It could be seen in the way his hands tensed at his sides just as his eyes shifted out of view. And Satoru wouldn’t have it. 

“Me? Hopeless?” Unwilling to let Suguru turn away, Satoru unfurled his limbs to stretch as far as he could until his body fell atop his friend’s. “You’re the one acting like I’m not taking you with me. You’re the best sparring partner I know considering you’re the only one who's ever been able to keep up with me.”

“Is that right?”

“Mhm. If we’re going to be facing the future together, we have to do it as a team.” Satoru brought a smile to his face, beaming as much light as he could toward his classmate even if a sour thought had taken root beneath it. Perhaps Yuji’s future wouldn’t have been so bleak if he and Suguru hadn’t been separated. The strongest duo… They were supposed to be together and if Suguru was willing to see that it stayed that way, then so would Satoru. 

Maybe not every burden had to be carried alone.

“Satoru, I—” 

But before Suguru could get his entire thought out, the faint sound of footsteps announced the approach of someone new. Poking out in the dim light first and foremost was an unmistakable head of blond hair belonging to none other than Nanami. The sound of rustling plastic joined in as he got closer, revealing the small convenience store bag hanging at his side. 

While not ashamed of his current position, Satoru still sought to straighten himself before deciding that he may as well jump to his feet to greet the unexpected second-year. This was far from a place to be taking a casual stroll, which meant Nanami had a reason for seeking them out.

“Gojo-senpai.” Nanami turned his head to the side, nodding as he also acknowledged Suguru while the third-year followed Satoru off the ground. 

“Whatcha doing all the way down here?”

“I came to speak with Itadori-kun.”

Satoru froze, unsure if that was a good idea, let alone who had told Nanami that Yuji was being kept in the isolation chamber. His only guess was Suguru, but he couldn’t understand why. The truth would bring more questions than answers since Nanami still didn’t—

“He knows, Satoru.” Suguru placed a grounding hand on Satoru’s shoulder, keeping him from keeling over in shock from what he’d just heard. “Nanami knows everything.”

Chapter Text

Choso’s mind wouldn’t settle, nor would his chest lose the aching feeling of unease constricting around his core. After their unfortunate collision in the midst of Jujutsu Tech’s grounds, his brother had dashed away too quickly for him to keep up, his anxiety running rampant through his veins at incredible speed. The smile Choso had witnessed on his face was brief. More notably, it was false, barely hanging on as an overwhelming dread had taken root and would not be so easily torn out. 

The bond they shared through their heritage would betray any attempts Yuji would make at hiding his state of being. It was the very same bond that had tethered Choso to all his siblings. Choso wasn’t a mind reader, but he was adept at catching onto the tiniest of Yuji’s mannerisms while keeping his heart vigilant in case his brother were to get himself into danger and become in need of his aid. The best way Choso has sought to envision his bond was that of a little string between the members of his family. The poetic string of fate, drenched red in their blood and pulled taut when their lives were threatened only to snap when one of them reached their end. 

Choso had felt the bond between him and his youngest brother suddenly become slack once before. He’d initially feared the worst, grasping at his head while the blood of his own family coated his hands, but it was only when he felt the string move and urged him to give chase did he realize Yuji still breathed. 

To experience that feeling again… Choso would rather take his own life ten times over, though the sentiment would mean that he himself would no longer be around to see his brother remain safe and sound. Either way, his determination to keep his family out of harm’s way was an uphill battle against more than just curses and curse users alike. The greatest threat to his little brother’s well-being was his own insurmountable guilt. A self-imposed burden that wouldn’t lessen, regardless of how many times Choso had sat him down to see that he understood that the weight of the world and the consequences of it spinning did not rest solely on his shoulders. 

Today, it appeared that conversation would be needed once more, as Choso could only brace for the strain he felt as his brother became overcome with grief. 

“No. N-no that’s… h-he’s not…” Yuji’s sneakers squeaked against the floor in short, ear-piercing bursts. Choso guessed he was turning from side to side in a panic.

“Itadori-kun.” 

Kento’s voice cut in as Yuji’s waned. The pause between his address and the explanation to come had left even Choso stunned. He remained in place, fearing even the lightest sounds of his own steps would prevent him from hearing the solemn news to come. 

“Haibara… We did all we could to escape and in the end, it wasn’t enough. He chose to value my life over his. It shouldn’t have been…” 

A harsh breath would see to another pause. Kento did not lighten the truth nor go in circles attempting to avoid it. And while Choso could respect that, it had felt as though each word was a blow of its own to his chest. Yu, for the short time Choso had known him, was a bright and optimistic soul. His kindness and willingness to help both Choso and his younger brother were appreciated, and something Choso had wished he could have returned. If Choso hadn’t become numb to the very concept of death, a fate all humans share regardless of the lives they lived, Choso may have given into the desire to believe Yu’s was impossible.

His presence would be sorely missed. 

Choso could only hope that Yu’s little sister would be given the proper chance to mourn once she was told of his fate.

“But that is what happened. There is no changing it. I’m sorry.”

Choso did not need his eyes to know his brother was breaking into pieces. He may have surely done the same if it wasn’t for the intrinsic desire to act as a support for Yuji in times such as these. His own reaction dulled in favor of letting his brother’s emotions loose to allow him the proper ability to mourn. And as much as it pained him to remain where he was, Choso would keep himself on the outskirts of Shoko’s office to avoid smothering his brother any more than that room may already have. 

“This wasn’t… This wasn’t supposed to happen.” 

At least, that had been the plan.

He did not fully consider that Yuji would bolt out the door. His eyes and mind were not focused on the physical world around him. Too lost in thought. Overrun and completely shaken by something intrusive and unwanted just underneath his skin. 

Yuji’s head collided with Choso’s chest purely by accident. This may not have been a direct plea for comfort, but Choso would still rest his hand on his brother’s shoulder without the need to speak. He’d heard everything he needed to know about why his brother was flushed red with his own hands scraping against his skull. As much as Choso wanted to express his shared regret in Yu’s loss and his belief that things would be alright, to say that now could very well come across as a mockery. The context of Yu’s death was important, as it was something Yuji had hoped to prevent.

Actions spoke louder than words, after all. 

“Don’t you— Let go of me!”

“Little brother.”

“I said, LET GO!”

Yuji jerked his body left and right until he tore himself free from Choso’s grasp. His little brother darted forward, his sprint immediately devolving into a hobble upon shaking legs that weren’t enough to keep pace. He collapsed against the wall, fighting with his own body to continue its proper functions. Rage continued to build, as did his cursed energy, intermixing with the grotesque core of Ryomen Sukuna’s being. The shift in Yuji’s aura was startling, as was the violent outburst that followed. With how unruly his aura had become, witnessing Yuji’s fist break through the building’s wall should have been expected.

Choso flinched at the act, too overwhelmed by his little brother’s intensity.

Suguru had called out after him, but neither would the older teenager’s concerns nor Choso’s gentle approach reach Yuji’s in a way to convince his brother to listen. 

“Don’t.” A growl lunged from Yuji’s throat. His brother, perceiving himself to be in the midst of being cornered, refused to remain still. Contact was forbidden. Any action Choso dared to make was now the wrong one, leaving him clueless about what to do next. “Don’t come near me. Don’t touch me. Don’t—”

Yuji’s shouting came to a close the moment another person joined them in the hall. Not even halfway out of the room with his hand leaning on the door frame for support, the only threat Kento posed was the painful reminder of loss, both future and present. And to make matters worse, he was the only one who did not know the full extent of everyone’s grief, for Yuji had yet to tell Kento the truth of his origin. For Yuji to speak it now… An easier task would be to face a hundred cursed spirits than for his brother to confront the one person whom a negative reaction could very well cleave him in two. 

That was why his brother ran. 

Unlike the time before, on the day Yuji first caught sight of his mentor’s younger self, Choso felt a stronger need to give chase. Space was what his brother desired. It was what he needed to calm himself down, yet with just how far events had plunged his brother’s mind into despair… Someone would eventually have to pull him out. Who else was there to take on that responsibility when everyone capable remained within this hall or in the room connected to it? Satoru had yet to return—

“This wasn't supposed to happen.”

What had stopped Choso from acting on his intuition was Kento’s voice carrying out into the hall. His words directly repeated Yuji’s from moments ago, each one sinking as though they were made of lead. Vicious, yet tame, Kento paused to mull over the sentence one last time before craning his head to face his upperclassman in demand for an explanation. 

“What did he mean by that?” Kento’s glare struck through Suguru’s skull. “Tell me, what did Itadori mean by that!?”

“Nanami—”

“Tell me the truth.”

Like mentor, like student, it was Kento’s turn to slam his fist into the very foundations that kept the upper floors from collapsing above their heads. His attack would not nearly cause the same amount of damage as his injuries were too extensive. However, that would not prevent him from creating a sizable dent in the door frame with a fit of coughs following no matter how hard Kento clenched his side. 

“You've all been hiding something, and I've been very patient, but between the curse standing beside you and that ungodly amount of cursed energy Itadori released— You better not expect me to stand and remain content with receiving not a single explanation!”

Suguru looked to Choso, unsure of what course of action to take. They had previously withheld information for Yuji’s sake, but circumstances were straining their resolve surrounding that stance. Kento’s continued outburst wouldn’t do any favors, and with suspicion toward them already so high… Any lie they tell now would be subjected to harsh scrutiny. If believed, it would make telling the truth all the harder when another opportunity presents itself. If found out, then any trust that could be salvaged from this situation may very well be nonexistent. 

“You’re right, Nanami. We have been keeping secrets from you.” Suguru rubbed his neck, still unsure about now being the time this needed conversation had to take place in. “You were going to be told, soon even, but with everything that has transpired…”

“I’ll apologize to my little brother when we see each other again.” It wasn’t much, nor did it cover all the reservations Suguru may possess, but it was enough for Choso to show his own willingness to continue. “There isn’t much more that can be done to delay this conversation further.”

“Delay what conversation?” Kento’s impatience grew. 

“Itadori and Choso are from the future.” 

The trio in the hall turned to the girl they’d left behind. The smell of fresh smoke burned through Choso’s nose, stemming from her cigarette. There was an apt analogy for her approach, one that involved ripping the metaphorical band-aid which aligned with her role as the school’s healer. 

That being said, Choso had wished that Shoko had used a bit more tact in her words.

“What?” Kento spun around too quickly to face Shoko, forced to grasp his head while he snarled back at Suguru once her answer settled in. “Is this some kind of joke?”

“Do you really think that we would joke at a time like this?” Immediately, Suguru raised his hand in apology in what seemed like a moment of reflection on his past actions. Given how he acted when a certain absent classmate was around, there was a chance that his statement would have rung true in another time or place. “Whether you believe it or not, that’s the truth. These two traveled eleven years into their past, which is our present. You of all people can understand why something like that would need to be kept under wraps.”

Kento paused, his face shifting through a few expressions neither well-defined nor lingering fast enough for Choso to guess what truly had gone through his mind. All the curse had to go by were the clenching and unclenching of Kento’s fists as he worked through just how something so beyond what pre-established Jujutsu Sorcery has defined in the ability of any one individual to accept time travel as a possibility. 

“Say I believe you, why come here?” Now it was Choso’s turn to bear the brunt of Kento’s frustration. “What purpose do you have to be where you don’t belong?”

“It was an accident. Our future…” Choso flashed through the memories between his awakening and their displacement, unable to count the number of genuinely blissful moments on his fingers with the need for a second hand. “…is not a kind one. We were wandering through the ruins of Shibuya when the world around us shifted, and we found ourselves in a Shibuya unlike our own.”

“Ruins of Shibuya…”

“We truly meant to tell you sooner, but we were waiting for Yuji. He should have been the one telling you all this.” Choso bowed his head in apology. Whether Kento chose to accept it or not was his decision to make.

“Why? Why him, specifically?”

“Your future counterpart was his mentor. From what I heard, you played an integral role in his development, and because of that, it’s quite difficult to interact with you as you are now. He knows you and him aren’t the same, and yet… I think knowing that may make things worse in their own way.”

Yuji still longed for a man, a mentor, and family member who was no longer with him. While it was easy for Yuji to impose his understanding of Satoru’s future self onto his younger counterpart as they’d spent enough time together for his brother to see the similarities between the two, for Kento… He’d never given himself the chance. The risk of the one he lost being too different from the one he saw today, whether it be in demeanor, mindset, or relationship from what they used to have, all of it was too much to confront. Perhaps such worries would amount to nothing, but to his brother, the risk of losing his mentor all over again in a different light was too great to take. 

“Was his mentor… ” Kento had picked up on Choso’s wording easily enough. “Then the loss he experienced—”

“I’m sorry.”

“Unless you’re the one responsible, don’t bother.” A pause came about as Kento’s gaze turned to the direction Yuji had disappeared. Kento caught the rest of his anger there, releasing it in a heavy sigh as he started piecing more of the still-broken narrative together. “Was he there?”

The conflicted expression on Suguru’s face had him second-guessing their decision. Whether or not it was the right call to continue, Choso could already see that Kento had answered his own question. What he was asking for was confirmation. 

And so, Choso gave it to him.

“He was.”

“I see… No wonder he couldn’t stand to look at me.” A cough broke through Kento's words. A precursor to his balance fading, as his legs would soon give out and his body would collapse further against the door frame until Suguru caught him. “Itadori-kun… Haibara, Itadori didn’t— They didn’t know each other, did they? Not before…”

“No.”

“Ah.”

A pause.

A moment to breathe. To assess. To accept.

“Geto-senpai, if you would,” Kento grunted as Suguru assisted him to his full height. The younger of the two wouldn’t let go of his shoulder right away, beckoning for his senior’s attention as he addressed both sorcerer and curse together. “I know this isn’t the best time, but if not now, then after you both check on Itadori-kun… I need you both to tell me everything. Start from the beginning and don’t spare a single detail.”

The hollowed-out wound ached, despite Choso’s body showing no memory of it. No trace. Not even a hint of Sukuna’s cursed energy tearing through his body would ever see the light of day, for a new set of clothes and the slow regeneration of his vessel would do wonders in making it appear as if the event was nothing more than a hazy dream. All that remained was the ache that twisted Choso’s stomach into inhuman shapes, threatening to do the same with the rest of his organs between its entangled nest and the heart that lay above it. 

That feeling would not be a short-lived one. Nor would Choso allow it to be. His mind continued to relive that handful of minutes when his brother’s soul was nowhere to be found. The very soul he should have worked harder to protect. Should have recognized apart from the curse who drew on his weakness and got the better of his own judgment. He had failed his brother in preventing the resurgence of Ryomen Sukuna. To then add the potential loss of another family member to the already existing list… It wasn’t the fear of his own life slipping between his fingers that had Choso gawking at his shaking palms, but the fear of leaving Yuji alone to deal with the consequences of things far greater than either of them could seek to understand. 

Now that the two were relatively safe as the danger of Ryomen Sukuna’s rampage had passed, Choso wouldn’t allow Yuji to part from his sight. And while Yuji permitted it, he wouldn’t let go of his little brother either. 

He did not wish to latch onto Yuji with a death grip, but Choso’s hands were far from relaxed when wrapped around Yuji’s shoulders. The first night had been the hardest to get through, even as his brother recovered ever so slowly on the train ride home. The extent of the damage he incurred went beyond the skin, leaving him unable to move and reliant on Choso to keep him steady as he lay lifeless across the couch of their private car. Sukuna was a cruel and spiteful curse. While they were all grateful Yuji’s body ceased all function after taking back control, watching his brother hiss and recoil at the pain their own attacks had inflicted was retaliation on par with the potential loss. 

Their closeness would end once Yuji could walk again. His first steps were toward a prison cell. Voluntary. Full of frustration as no one else had thought his insistence was necessary. The Isolation Chamber was just as the name implied. It was built with the sole purpose of containment. Their stay was usually temporary, given that its purpose was to be a holding cell before one’s execution. 

Choso refused to allow his brother solitude. He’d respect his boundaries enough to sit on the wooden chair provided and watch over Yuji’s resting form on the futon Satoru had brought down for him. A blanket had been given as well, but the only thing Yuji clutched in his poor attempt at sleep was the torn remains of his hoodie. Too much of it was missing to even attempt stitching it back together. All Choso knew about the garment was that it meant enough to his brother to keep it after all this time and because of that, it was saddening to see it reduced to so little.

“Little brother,” Choso called out, keeping his voice low as his eyes turned to the tray that had been left untouched by Yuji’s back. “You should eat.”

Yuji did not respond to him. Choso anticipated as such nothing beyond grunts or harsh breaths of air had been heard ever since they arrived in this room. His brother’s last words had been shouted with so much aggression that he tore through his own throat while doing so. No one was putting the blame for Sukuna’s actions onto him, and for that, Yuji’s guilt-addled mind couldn’t comprehend why.

“Yuji.” 

Choso tried again as he stood up from his seat. It would only take a couple of steps before he reached his brother’s side. He wouldn’t loom over him. The low lighting would only make his actions appear more hostile than they were. Instead, Choso sat with his legs crossed against Yuji’s bed before coaxing his brother to sit up and join him. 

Yuji possessed little energy to object. His head remained down as he was pulled upright, his arms still entangled with each other. A sandwich and a bottle of water had been given to him. It was a small meal meant to be easy on the stomach, but Yuji wouldn’t make any effort to reach for it.

This was his own self-imposed execution if no one else was going to follow through.

And Choso couldn’t stand it.

“Come on. Even a few bites can go a long way.” Taking after his brother’s previous actions, Choso tore the sandwich into two pieces in Yuji’s view. One would be balanced on his own lap, while the other would be gently placed into Yuji’s hand once he managed to pry it free. “Please. I do not wish to eat alone.”

This was enough to get Yuji to move. His fingers tightened around the bread, his eyes flickered upward just enough to acknowledge Choso next to him. Food wasn’t a necessity for Choso, but if taking a bite was enough to get his brother to do so in solidarity, then so be it. 

Beyond that, Choso wouldn’t force Yuji to engage with him beyond their meal. Yuji was still in mourning, in addition to the internal torment of recent events either by his own thoughts and recollection or the parasite still beside his brother’s soul. This was Yuji’s choice to react this way, and so long as he was still allowing his older brother to ensure he took care of himself even through the smallest of efforts, then there was no need to belittle his decision through force. If Yuji wished to speak, Choso would listen. Until then, he would wait patiently until that time came. 

Choso hoped that by doing this, Yuji understood that he was still loved, even if he found it impossible to love himself. 

Long after Yuji’s meal had disappeared from his tray and the water bottle boasted half of its contents swallowed down, the door to the Isolation Chamber pried open. Light poured into the room alongside a draft of cold air that sent the candles keeping their chosen cage lit into a sudden frenzy. The silhouette standing in the door frame was too short to be Satoru or Suguru. Choso would have to wait for the door to shut behind him, when the light no longer washed out the sorcerer’s features for the notable trait of blond hair to fill in his name before the entire picture came to be.

Nanami Kento.

He lingered on his side of the room for a moment, saying nothing as he glanced around the ceiling and the walls with an appalled look in his eyes. Said look would transition into something softer, mournful as he turned his attention to the teenager curled up on the floor. The plastic bag by his side rustled with the smallest of movements, making his continued presence clear as Kento approached. 

Yuji’s silence persisted in spite of the teenager’s sudden appearance. Distress was the main driving force behind it, as there was little to say in his brother’s mind beyond confusion and the subject of Kento’s lost classmate between them. And as Kento closed the distance between their feet to stand over him, Yuji could attempt to make more without having to stand by recoiling his legs as close as he could to his own chest. 

Kento did not take offense to this. He first turned to Choso, nodding his head to acknowledge him and ask permission to continue whatever he came here to accomplish. In return, Choso allowed him to get closer if need be, but there was a line being drawn to designate when Choso would intervene if he went too far. 

The older teenager sat on his knees, maneuvering the plastic bag into his lap while doing so. There was more than one item inside, lending to its bulk. Kento reached in and pulled out a round, soft-looking pastry treat. The clear packaging around it sported a couple of strawberries around its logo, revealing what flavor was to be expected inside. 

“Haibara wanted to get you something from Akita.” Yuji flinched at hearing Haibara’s name. Kento must have noticed this, but made no mention of it as he carried on. “He had asked me to help pick something out for you, and I thought that something simple like a filled sweet bread would be a safe choice. I doubt you would have turned down anything he would have brought back, regardless.”

Plastic crinkled between Kento’s hands as he balanced the treat between them. He would turn away, take a moment to gather himself, then turn back to embrace what may come next. 

“He wouldn’t have wanted you to grieve so heavily. I know he’d tell you that if he could, and he’d be a hypocrite for it, considering he’d be doing the same thing you are if your roles were reversed. That’s the consequence of those who care too much… I…” Kento lowered his head, his hands on the verge of crushing the pastry before he caught himself, and placed the treat at Yuji’s side. “I’m sorry there wasn’t more I could have done for you, before I died. Had I been a better mentor, I would have taken it upon myself to separate you from all of this the moment we met, and spare you from even more hardship, even if it didn’t work out for myself. It’s the least I could have done—” 

“—N-Nanami…” Yuji lifted his head, eyes already filled with the beginning of tears as he fought to believe what he was hearing. He continued to stutter, but it was clear what he intended by how his shock shaped his mouth. “…H-how-ow?”

“Geto-senpai and Choso told me everything.” Kento’s words brought Yuji’s widened gaze to Choso, who would not challenge Kento’s claim. “What happened in your future, what you’ve been doing since your arrival… It’s commendable, Itadori-kun.”

“N-Nanamin!” Unable to contain himself, Yuji flung himself forward. The plastic bag was quickly brushed aside as Yuji’s forehead collided with Kento’s knees, his little brother unable to bring himself to climb higher. Yuji clutched Kento’s pants, shaking his head in anguish as he accidentally wiped his own tears against his future mentor’s clothes. “I-I missed you . I missed you so much— I’m sorry. So sorry—”

Apologies and incoherent babbling would continue for a bit. Kento was clearly unused to this behavior, or rather, the context from which it stemmed. Freezing up at Yuji’s touch had been from inexperience, not from repulsion. That was made true the moment Kento raised his hand to move it along Yuji’s spasming back in an effort to comfort him. 

“I-I s-should have told you sooner! But, I didn’t, a-and now—”

“You really are from the future,” Kento spoke in awe, coming to terms with the reality he was facing for the second time in two days. “You don’t need to apologize, Itadori-kun.”

“But I do! I have to— Everything is my fault!” Yuji slammed his fist against the ground, frustrated at the words challenging the mindset he had so much trouble letting go of. “I couldn’t save you, and now I couldn’t save Haibara. And then, after all that, I lost control, and Sukuna almost… he almost…”

With both hands, Kento cupped the sides of Yuji’s cheeks. The pressure of his palms squished Yuji’s lips together, effectively stifling the rest of his thought so that Kento could speak without interruption. 

“I need you to listen to me very carefully. Can you do that?

Yuji’s tears continued to squeeze out over his cheek and onto Kento’s hands, but that didn’t deter Kento. He remained steadfast, leaving Yuji no choice but to hesitantly nod in response. 

“Will you listen to what I have to say?”

“Yes.” The word barely came out, but the soft squeak of Yuji’s voice was enough to imply his meaning. 

“Whatever happened in the future, especially to me, is not your fault. Your mentor was an adult. It’s his burden to bear the consequences of his own loss, not yours. You’re still a child. A student. It may not always mean something, especially now, but I know that it means something to me, and thus, it would have meant something to him.” Kento’s eyes fell from Yuji’s, once again mourning the very person whose name he was about to invoke. “As for Haibara… He didn’t die resentful. He didn’t curse. He didn’t even— That last thing I saw, it was that idiot looking at me with a smile on his face, and can you guess what he said? Haibara asked me to be there for you. To look after you. Now I understand why he was acting so odd on the train— He really was too much sometimes.”

None of Kento’s feelings were grievances. His harsh language was rooted in a bitter affection that was expected of loss. Whether Haibara was ‘too much’ in actuality mattered little. It was the simple expression of what he missed the most. The presence that was there no longer. 

“If anyone should offer an apology now, it should be me. Both on my future counterpart’s behalf, and for not doing more to stop you from running off with Gojo-senpai. While I don’t know if you staying here would have prevented everything that came after… I feel as though I failed you. If not as your mentor, then as your senpai.”

“Nanami…” A softening grip allowed Yuji to speak. “You didn’t fail me.”

“Everyone did.”

Kento’s hands fell to his sides, leaving Yuji free to stare at where they fell. He didn’t act on his impulse right away, but Yuji wouldn’t remain idle either. Not when something new burned in his chest. Something that had to be said, and he would do that first by reaching for Kento’s hand in his own bid for the older teenager’s ear. 

“You said before, that you should have spared me from all this, but that’s all I wanted for you. For everyone. You shouldn’t have returned to being a sorcerer, Nanamin. Don’t come back. I can’t… I can’t lose you again.”

“If only it were that easy, Itadori-kun.”

“Why can’t it be?” Yuji shook Nanami’s hand, practically flailing about in frustration. “Why can’t you leave and, a-and never look back!?”

“I wanted to. To think that I could have Gojo-senpai carry all the weight on his shoulders. He’s supposed to be the strongest.” Admitting his selfish feelings was difficult. Kento struggled to keep his tone stable, as his voice wavered through his desire and the revelation that would eventually denounce it. “I had already begun idolizing salary work as an alternative, though I can only assume my future self hardly found it any more fulfilling than the day-to-day hell of being a sorcerer. It wasn’t until you all came back from Akita, did I realize the severity of what I would be doing. You’re not the only one who would feel guilt over their inaction. And after learning what fate you’ve been working so hard against, I can’t stand idly by and not do something about it.”

Kento rose to his feet in preparation to declare his resolve. His hands slipped out of Yuji’s grasp, leaving his brother with nothing to clutch between his fingers.

“I want you to know that any decisions I make going forward are mine and mine alone to bear. The same goes for the consequences of those decisions. You’re allowed to feel anxious and worry. To celebrate the good and mourn the bad, but you are not allowed to feel guilty over what I choose to do. You’ve given us the means to know what may come next so that we can prepare for it. But you are not omnipotent. You can’t see where our new actions will lead with any certainty. Whatever happens is on us. You’ve already done more than enough, so let us take responsibility for what happens next. Don’t waste your energy on unnecessary guilt. Itadori-kun… be proud of what you’ve already done.”

“But, what have I done? Really?” Yuji climbed up after him, hobbling on his legs that needed proper blood flow to return after too many hours of disuse. Choso had thought he’d need to stand to keep him steady, but Yuji managed just fine on his own. “Someone, please tell me, because I don’t feel like I’ve accomplished anything!”

“Because of you, all of us students got to spend time together as a full group one last time.”

That was not what Yuji was expecting to counter with.

“You don’t know this, but before we arrived, we’ve all been too busy with missions this last summer… though, I guess even before that, circumstances had led to everyone splitting off into smaller groups with the rare interaction between us. Hachioji wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t been the reason for Gojo-senpai to suggest it.” Kento gripped his chin to muse over his thoughts. “And speaking of Gojo-senpai, he and Geto-senpai have been speaking more than they have in months. I’m sure you’re now aware of the events that took place last summer. It was enough to do the unthinkable and shake their egos. Those two had gone their separate ways when new missions continued to keep them apart. Yet, just now, when I passed by them outside… something changed. Certainly for the better.”

Whatever mild level of calm that had surfaced fell apart after Yuji heard those words. They were enough to start the waterworks around his eyes, with the dam holding them back set to break the moment Kento added one last thought. 

“Even if those two things are all you accomplish by being here, I think that alone is enough to be thankful for.” 

And with that, Yuji was pawing at his face with his palms. He would rub his eyes red and shake his head, doing his best to hide the way his shoulders moved up and down with each spasmed breath his crying had forced upon him. There was something he needed, a physical touch that Kento had picked up on. One that he held reservations for, but would nonetheless offer in silence as he stepped forward and gently took Yuji in his embrace.

Kento’s movements were stiff and awkward, most likely because he was someone who was usually on the receiving end of this kind of gesture. Those characteristics may or may not have been noticed by his little brother, but if the former was true, Yuji did not care in the slightest. They would only serve to make Kento’s attempt all that more endearing, especially as Yuji took the opportunity to latch on tight and confess his longing once more.

“I missed you. I still miss you.” Yuji buried his face in Kento’s shoulder, his grip tightening as though this could very well be the last time either of them could do this. “I know it’s weird, but—”

“It’s alright, Itadori-kun. This line of profession is already weird.”

“Yeah, it is.”

Choso couldn’t help but feel a little left out of their exchange. Such feelings of envy were minor and nothing but intrusive, making them easy to toss aside in favor of allowing Yuji and Kento longer to themselves. He could rest easy when in view of the smile present on his younger brother’s face. Not a literal smile, but an expression of joy to finally confront one of the many causes of his fear and doubt. Kento’s words were able to reach a place no one else had, which only showed just how important of a person Kento had become in his brother’s life. A mentor. A father-figure. Yuji’s family wasn’t bound entirely by blood, but by the patchwork of people who came together as his support network when no one else could be relied on after his grandfather’s passing. 

It was comforting to know just how many there were at his brother’s side. Hearts and souls of those who cared for him in spite of the curse he carried. Yuji’s ability to reach others had lent itself well to accomplishing more than he ever could have alone. Kento, in their brief time together, was proof of that. As were the two teenagers sitting outside this very room, and everyone else who knew of the dreaded future Yuji had worked so hard to avoid. 

Even with the unexpected loss they had faced, Choso had enough faith in his brother to believe change would occur. The foundation had been set. Their hopes and dreams lay barren. All that was left to do was see it through with one question creeping up along the back of Choso’s mind.

How much longer did Yuji and he have left within this turbulent period before they returned from whence they came?

Chapter Text

The seat belt across Yuji’s chest and around his waist was too tight. 

It did not matter what angle he chose to sit it, the polyester belt continued to find a way to dig into him, whether it was his hip or his stomach. Without the hoodie underneath his jacket, Yuji felt more vulnerable than the last time he’d been in this car. The only relief to be had was in his head finding support against Choso’s arm. His older brother made a softer pillow than the backseat they shared, and the angle Yuji ended up in let his head rest with his neck unstrained. There was a price to be paid for this comfort, aside from the hellish belt. And that price was the direct line of sight between the driver’s and front passenger’s seat. Yuji may have been resting at just low enough to avoid any eye contact that may come about through the rearview mirror, but that did not stop the brief glances back from his sensei as he argued with Yaga at every turn.

“Oi, sensei! We were supposed to take a turn at the last light.” Gojo used his thumb to gesture over Yuji and Choso’s heads. He received a disgruntled sigh from their driver, Yaga, who was not so keen on Gojo’s rather poor method of giving directions off a crumpled-up piece of paper. 

“Then why didn’t you say something sooner?”

“I was trying to read what I wrote for the next turn.” His sensei turned the sheet of paper over to make better sense of his own chicken scratch. “I think I understand why you hate reading my essays.” 

Whatever Yaga had grumbled next was drowned out by Gojo’s glance at the teenager behind him. His comment had been something to lift the mood. A silly bit of self-deprecating humor, one the older teenager wished to share his smile with by looking toward someone who he thought would at least get a chuckle out of it. Who wouldn’t laugh at the thought of their teacher being a poor student in their youth? The irony was ripe and the jokes to be had were plenty, but all Yuji could do after initially freezing up at their eye contact was twitching his lips until something possibly reminiscent of a shallow smile met his sensei’s expectations. 

And even then, Yuji knew Gojo wasn’t buying it. 

He was kind enough to turn his head and go back to bickering with Yaga, leaving Yuji to grip Choso tighter as he fought with doing anything further to retreat further from the conversation in front of him. 

It was hard for Yuji to understand how Gojo could stand to look at him. How any of them could stand to be this close after Sukuna —The fractured memories of their time in Akita crashed against the forefront of Yuji’s mind. Underneath, another current dredged up the once-hidden mistake Yuji had made months prior. His mind was no longer tampered by an idiot’s vow. He could experience his stupid overconfidence and the blind optimism he had in facing Sukuna for a free resurrection. 

Hah.

Free.

Nothing was ever given for free. Yuji should have figured that out the moment he woke up on the examiner’s table. That fact that he hadn’t questioned it—

Yuji had already gone through the traumatic recollection each night he closed his eyes. Akita should have been no different. The same experience of losing his control. His agency. His choice. The same first-person perspective on what may as well be a torturous movie he was forced to sit back and watch, yelling at the screen, desperately pleading at those he saw to either fight with the intent to end it all or run for their very lives. 

It had taken everything to claw out from depths that Sukuna had done his damnedest to drown him in. Yuji’s nails had become frantic claws, coated in the curse’s bleeding essence as he tore his way out of his prison with each pleading cry that echoed through the void. He would never tear through Sukuna completely, but since they were sharing his body, Yuji’s will took precedence the moment his muddled thoughts cleared and his drive was found to ensure that Sukuna would not take any more lives from him. Not after Choso had been—

His objective hadn’t been to exert his control, take back the reins, and continue on as normal after. No. Yuji had not possessed enough faith in himself to accomplish that much. Nor did he trust the curse to not have another trick up his sleeve. All he wished was to prevent his sensei’s death, provide an opening, ensure a retaliatory strike and… No one acted on his should have. Not even Geto.

Did Yuji resent them for it? Not anymore, but at the time of his body becoming his own once more, he couldn’t help but curse at the cuts, bruises and surely broken bones just out of sight on their faces while knowing much worse could have transpired. Worse still almost certainly had yet to come, so long as he and Sukuna remained alive.

“Don’t waste your energy on unnecessary guilt.”

Nanami’s voice rang through Yuji’s ears. If he listened closely enough, the teenager sounded much older in his head. Experienced. Wiser. Just like the man Yuji had once known. The man this Nanami was surely going to become. It was his voice that kept the rest of the waves threatening to pull Yuji under at bay. It wasn’t perfect, but it was enough.

These thoughts weren’t going to accomplish anything. Their presence only served as a detrimental spiral of self-reflection and doubt, with the only consolation being that of Sukuna’s silence. The curse hadn’t spoken to Yuji since the teenager had yanked that curse away from his limbs with a visceral scream that shook their souls to the very core. No matter how much time passed, the next time Yuji would have to hear that infuriating mockery pounding through his skull would not be a long enough reprieve. 

With a sigh, Yuji ducked his face as far under his collar as it would go. Yaga had been kind enough to provide another jacket, but his red hoodie had become unsalvageable. Too much of the cloth was missing to make repairs possible. The options were to either use another hoodie to make a cloth version of Frankenstein’s monster, or just simply wear a new hoodie altogether. But Yuji didn’t want a new hoodie. He wanted the torn-up cloth still sitting amongst the futon he’d begrudgingly left behind to go on this trip. 

“That’s it! There, that building… Sensei, turn around!”

“Satoru, I swear— Sit back down and get your finger out of my face!”

Gojo walked a very fine line between remaining in the car and being tossed out onto the side of the road due to his unruly excitement. No matter how much Yuji stared at Gojo from behind and watched the expressions on his face, he couldn’t fathom what had gotten him so excited. If things were how they used to be, back when Yuji was more attuned to his sensei’s joy and easily fell in line with whatever mood he set, there wouldn’t be so much confusion. Nor would he feel an unwelcome content, as if the older teenager’s sudden rebound had offended him somehow. Yuji hated his immediate reaction and thus, he tried to stifle it as best he could.

If only he’d paid attention to their travel plans that Gojo had loudly proclaimed before entering Yaga’s car. Yuji was sure the name of the place was mentioned, but he couldn’t remember if it was a city or prefecture. They hadn’t driven all that far, and apparently, they were close, so maybe…

Yuji found his thoughts drifting back to Akita. Back to Haibara, that curse— Those two awful curses that will never let Yuji know peace. 

His hands had become stained with blood that did not belong to him, so much so that Yuji had spent so much time scrubbing his hands clean the first time he used the restroom upon regaining control that he managed to break the skin of his palms with his own nails. It was only when he started bleeding that he stopped scrubbing. And it was then that Choso had poked his head inside to check up on him, quick to rush to his side and press towels over his self-inflicted wounds. Yuji hadn’t even registered what he’d done until his brother’s muted shouting finally broke through to his otherwise absent mind—

And just like that, Yuji was spiraling again. His mind had wandered all on its own so easily, all because it knew the path by heart.

Nanami would be disappointed in him— No. He wouldn’t. Nanami would sigh, not because he was angry, but because he cared. Then, Nanami would encourage him to try once more.

And Yuji would.

It wasn’t before long that Yaga’s car had come to a stop. Harsher than necessary, Yuji slid a bit forward, forcing him to grab the back of Gojo’s seat lest he lose his balance completely. Gojo is the first to step outside the car, probably in an effort to avoid his sensei’s wrath. His movements were bouncy and full of energy. The stretch above his arms was almost comical, especially in comparison to how Yuji slumped out of his seat with his head with one hand gripping his other arm tight to his side.

“Where are we?”

The sun was so bright, that he had to squint in order to see anything properly outside the safety of the tinted window he left behind. 

Yuji recalled Gojo’s boisterous entrance sometime after Nanami had left to let him be. A fair amount of time had passed, almost an entire night, and Yuji knew that, but it still felt too soon to be receiving any more visitors beyond the brother who wouldn’t leave his side. 

To his relief, the older teenager had stopped whatever speech he had planned the moment Choso stood up from Yuji’s side to confront him. It wasn’t a clash that came about in anger, but the consequence of some mutual understanding they had come to during the train ride back from Akita. Those two had talked on and off for what could have very well been hours. Their voices would sometimes pierce through the mental fog when exhaustion hadn’t kept Yuji completely under, but most of what they said never processed entirely through his brain. As weird as it was to say it, even though the two had chosen to speak to one another with Yuji physically present, the couple of times the youngest could make out a word or phrase, he felt as though he was intruding. 

Never once had he heard Gojo speak as many apologies as he had that day. Never once did his sensei sound so sincere with a voice so uncharacteristically quiet. From what little Yuji remembered, Choso hadn’t given his sensei as much hell as anyone would have easily assumed. But given how complicated the situation had become, and the relief everyone had felt to just be alive, excessive anger wasn’t going to undo their mistakes.

Now that they were past that and standing before each other once again, Gojo and his brother had opted to speak in hushed words away from where Yuji sat on his bed. Whatever his sensei had said made his brother skeptical, almost offended, but eventually, Choso would relent with a sigh and allow Gojo to pass. There was a grumbled apology to Yaga of all people after that Yuji wouldn’t understand until later.

“Alright. Now with his permission out of the way, let’s go, Yuji!”

“Huh?” Slumped over with his elbows resting on his knees, Yuji looked up at his sensei with utter confusion. 

“I said, let’s go!” Gojo clapped his hands twice in the air. “Chop chop! We haven’t got all day if we want to time everything right.”

“Chop… chop—Sensei, what are you talking about?”

“I’ve devised a fun little trip. You, me, brother dearest, and Yaga.”

A fun little—? Why? What could possibly be so important that they had to leave this place? It would be fair that he remained here, where it would be safer for everyone if Sukuna managed to pull any other stunts to regain control.

“I can’t go anywhere! What about Sukuna?”

“What about Sukuna?” Gojo crouched down by Yuji’s side. “He took control with a binding vow that’s been fulfilled. He can’t use it again, so why are you so worried?”

His sensei wasn’t trying to be dismissive as a means of insult. He wasn’t belittling Yuji’s feelings because he enjoyed seeing him upset. Yuji understood that, yet he reacted so aggressively in kind to an unbelievably flippant attitude.