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“Sensei,” said Yuuji one morning, as Satoru poured seven large spoonfuls of glittering white caster sugar into his coffee. They were eating a simple breakfast; Yuuji with a bowl of egg-on-rice, and Satoru with a very, super adorable spread of honey roasted peanut mochi that he purchased on the way home from a recent mission, because he liked the way that the soft rice dough gave easily beneath his teeth to a delightful nutty crunch.
“Yes, Yuuji-kun?”
A moment’s pause. “Um, is there any particular reason that you’re putting in so much sugar? I think your coffee’s probably sweet enough…”
Satoru had chosen a large, ornate glass to drink from this bright morning, and Yuuji eyed warily the dissolving sugar granules floating around in the soft brown mixture. Stirred slowly, they drifted to the base of the glass like snowflakes, settled on the bottom until Satoru riled them up again with his sparkly dessert spoon.
“Ah!” he chirped in answer. “You see, Yuuji. I have to maintain my daily sugar intake, or else the consequences will be absolutely dire!”
At this statement, Yuuji’s confused and slightly appalled—though why on earth he’d be appalled, Satoru cannot possibly imagine, it’d be very hurtful for any of his students to impose judgment on his wholesome self-interests, really!—expression eased into understanding. The drawn lines of his brow lightened, and he took on a more considerate look.
“Oh, so it’s like that, Sensei?” He tilted his head and nodded to himself. “Ah, I completely understand. When my Grandpa started getting real old, before he… before he was moved to the hospital, we had to watch his diet carefully so he got the right nutrition. So I made him softer foods; he had to drink more water, eat less salt. Balance his vitamins and minerals—fish oil can help with arthritis, did you know, Sensei? Meals should contain this and that. When you get older, you have to be more careful about what you eat.”
Yuuji stood up from the table and pulled out his phone. He held it loosely enough that Satoru, tall enough to see without leaning forward, could peer over and watch him open his Notes application.
“So what are your dietary requirements? I can help you make a plan?” His tone was serious, and his eyes were open and warm. “And if you’re too busy with missions and teaching us—and, uh, me—I’m already used to it, so you can leave that to me!”
He said it with such ease. Offered up his services without a second thought. How selfless. How many mornings had Yuuji spent taking care of his grandfather? How many evenings, how many days, months, years?
The report that Megumi had given him the night Yuuji swallowed Sukuna’s finger included a brief comment about how ‘When I was scouting the school, Itadori said he had to leave before 5 pm everyday, which was why he was part of the occult club as a useless [did he mean phantom?] member’ and it made him wonder how much time Yuuji had given up for other people. All that sacrifice, and now, the remainder Yuuji had left to live was dictated by other people. And now he’d become the sacrifice himself. What irony!
Satoru usually didn’t bother himself with mundane thoughts. He wasn’t the kind to spend much time considering what people had done before they met him, and neither was he the kind to think about choices that did not concern him, let alone those that did not entertain him.
Ha, if Yuuji hadn’t so obviously relied on it for determination, to drive his moral compass, his actions, Satoru might have forgotten Yuuji even had a grandfather! God knows the boy had moved out of his childhood home easily enough. He’d showed no sign that the sudden shift had disturbed him. Perhaps that was disturbing in itself?
Well! Satoru had no need to concern himself with those thoughts. All he focused on now was the idea of Yuuji hovering over a stovetop, watching carefully a series of pots and pans, the pleasant steam of cooking food in the air. A very sweet image!
Satoru could cook himself, of course. He was superb at it. The best, as he was with everything. It wasn’t fun, though, and because it wasn’t fun, it wasn’t fulfilling, and because it wasn’t fulfilling, the act of it was something Satoru did not partake in often, preferring to eat out, or freeload off the people around him.
But Yuuji was always willing to make people happy. He was a cheery boy, and stupidly caring—stupid enough to take Satoru’s casual words seriously, caring enough to want to help—and food tasted better when it was made with love and affection, wasn’t it? That’s how it was? That’s what people liked to say. Satoru felt a hunger swell within him.
He remained silent and Yuuji furrowed his brow again. “Sensei? What’s wro—ah!”
Pale pink hair was soft under his palm, tickling the grooves between his fingers. Satoru wrapped his other arm, the one that wasn’t buried in Yuuji’s hair, around his tan shoulder and cooed.
“So sweet of you, Yuuji-kun~ Nothing’s wrong! Nope! You’re just so cute and earnest!
“Nothing’s wrong? Uh, that’s good! What do you mean by earnest, though, Sensei?”
Satoru’s student seemed to be able to figure it out himself, though, as his face soon smoothed over into a blank expression. He was learning so fast!
“So you don’t have specific dietary needs, Sensei?”
“My precious student!” Satoru crooned. “What do you think of me? I’m the strongest. A God among mortals. That goes for everything, including physical condition! How could you doubt me so?”
“So the dire consequences you were talking abo—“
“I’d be sad, of course!”
“So you don’t need more fish oil?”
“Nope!”
“You don’t have low blood sugar or anything?”
“I’m always low on sugar, Yuuji, but not in a way that is medically significant!”
“What about your mineral intake? Vitamins? Vitamin D? Does the blindfold stop you from getting enough sunlight?”
Satoru nearly laughed. Sunlight? With this impossibly sincere, impassioned brat hanging around him, he was getting more than enough. It was like Satoru had a living star in his basement—and wasn’t that another delightful thought! To anchor the sun!
“No, no!” he said happily. “But if you really do want to make something for me, Yuuji-kun, I won’t stop you~”
“Ah,” Yuuji mumbled over his egg-on-rice. “I did say that.” Satoru watched in fascination as a gentle red flush bloomed on his cheeks, like the colours of dawn rising above the horizon, early in the clear morning.
“What can you make?”
Yuuji’s blush grew deeper, crept down the length of his neck and touched the tips of his ears until they looked as if they were inflamed. “Well, I’m a fast learner… So… Please feel free to make any requests!”
“That’s very kind of you,” Satoru murmured, and he hoped that Yuuji wouldn’t sense the darker undertones in his voice. “Be careful I don’t take advantage of it.”
“I was the one who made the offer, Sensei. I know what I’m getti—“
“Ever tried human flesh? How about seared? Charred?.”
Sukuna’s eye peeled open on the side of Yuuji’s face, turned towards Satoru, but the ominous quality of it fell terribly short due to his host’s disgruntled expression as Sukuna hijacked his cheek. The toothed mouth grinned. Yuuji’s mouth turned down at the corners.
“Humans are tastier the younger they are, did you know?”
"No I didn't," snapped Yuuji, his pleasant demeanour vanished to whereever good manners go when they are met with truly irritating things. Perhaps Sukuna's strange domain? Satoru himself foregoes good manners; if he is ever in a situation where professional distance is prudent—though in the world of Jujutsu, Satoru is of the opinion that professional distance is never prudent and should be switched out for repulsed distance, or disgusted distance, or whatever term could be used for the desire to not interact with certain people—then he simply uses Infinity. "Fuck off, won't you?"
" ...Bastard… insuf..f..ble…. in...s...lent…. bra…t.." spit Sukuna faintly as Yuuji forced him down again. It was always an interesting process to observe. The Curse's narrow, affronted eye slid shut, but the tightness refused to drain from his face, presumably from Sukuna's outraged monologues in the depths of their shared mind.
"Maybe I can even keep training with the Curse Doll while I cook," mused Yuuji, still staring into thin air. Satoru felt a bright amusement bubble within him at Yuuji's stubbornness, at the casual pettiness with which he regarded the King of Curses. Who would have ever spoken to him in such a manner? And with such little power? Yuuji is a fast learner, but he is not yet very strong. Not like Satoru. Despite this, he continued to challenge this remorseless, raging force of nature, not succeeding everytime, perhaps, but enough to stay alive, and to stand his ground. How determined he was to use his own power; was it spite against Sukuna? That would really be hilarious, Satoru felt.
And if Satoru felt, also, a bone-deep satisfaction at his monopoly of Yuuji's cute, heartfelt shenanigans? His earnest, eager affections? Maybe he did release his technique more around Yuuji—often let the Infinity between dissipate into touch—but it was nobody's business but his.
"Yuuji?" he called, delighting in the way the boy perked up immediately. "It's only the late morning. You can make me something later. Dalgona coffee, maybe? I've never had it, you know~"
"No? Don't worry, Sensei! I got this covered!"
"Haha! You're adorable~" Satoru laughed. Ah, perhaps it wasn't like anchoring the sun. There was no force involved. No chains. Except for those at the very beginning, that is, haha! Those ropes that had bound Yuuji in that dim room where Satoru had offered him the sombre terms. Die now, or die a little later. Prolong the sunset!
But no. It wasn't like chaining down a burning thing. Rather, it was like the light of it had decided to shine on him—had decided that in its last moments, as its flames flickered out long before its due time, it would use the last of its living heat to keep him warm.
"For now," Satoru said happily, "let's go out to eat! Just as a treat!"