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His first death at the hands of Sukuna is a nightmare he struggles to get through for several nights. It's the sensation, the feeling of his hand piercing his chest, grabbing his heart and ripping it out. He dreams of hands reaching inside him and pulling his organs out. All the while Sukuna is laughing in his ear.
He always wakes up gasping, clutching at his chest as if trying to keep everything inside. Sometimes he’ll check his own heartbeat, his hands trembling until he feels for himself that he does have a heart.
Yuuji never mentions any of this when Gojo asks about the bags under his eyes.
“Oh, just some of the horror movies were a bit much,” he says, gesturing weakly over to the pile on the table.
Gojo laughs easily enough. “Maybe don’t watch them before you go to sleep then, yeah?”
“Ha, yeah...”
The second time Yuuji dies, Nanami is yelling his name as his vision fades to black.
He wakes up in the backseat of Ijichi’s car, agony coursing through his body. A strangled noise of pain leaves his lips as he attempts to sit up, causing Ijichi to shriek and nearly crash the car.
“Itadori!? You—you’re—”
“Where’s Nanamin?” Where’s the curse?
He moves too quickly at that thought, violent rage fueling him for a second only for his failing body to crumble. The wounds he had received earlier were in the process of healing and he just tore them all open again. He doubles over, a sucking in a hissing breath before hacking up a mouthful of blood.
“Itadori, please don’t move so much—”
Relax, kid.
“—on our way to Ieiri—”
Ijichi’s pressing harder on the gas. Yuuji’s vision is swimming, and his body is screaming in pain now that he’s acknowledged it. His breathing is wet and wheezing. He thinks he might die again.
Just lie down.
Yuuji does and throws an arm over his eyes, trying to focus on Ijichi’s panicked rambling and speeding car. He gits his teeth when he feels the skin around his wounds pulling closed.
The sensation is awful and downright painful, and his hands itch to claw at the areas to make the feeling stop. He’s positive it shouldn’t hurt this much, and it takes a lot of effort to not cry from it. He doesn’t need poor Ijichi freaking out any more than he already is.
“What are you doing?” he hisses, voice low enough so Ijichi doesn’t hear him.
I’m healing you, brat.
“Why?” Sukuna should be reveling in Yuuji’s injured state, laughing at him for being so pathetic and weak. Bringing him back to life he could understand, but healing him when he’s already on his way to Ieiri Shoko?
Because you’re my vessel, and I take care of my things.
Following that day, his nightmares get even worse. He watches Junpei die over and over again, his body being transformed into something more grotesque and horrifying each time. Sometimes Yuuji has to kill him, the three transfigured kids already dead at his feet.
And then Mahito will spear a bunch of holes through him before digging his hands in and pulling the wounds open even further. Sukuna’s arms will rest over his shoulders, Mahito suddenly a bloodied mess, and he’ll whisper in his ear.
“I take care of my things.”
Yuuji always wakes up gasping. He throws the blankets off of him and sits up, placing a trembling hand to his chest. Once he feels the pounding of his own racing heart, he gets up for a glass of water. He never goes back to sleep after that.
This new nightly routine persists even after the Kyoto Exchange Event, and the bags under his eyes are noticed by both of his friends.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Megumi asks one afternoon, snapping Yuuji out from staring blankly at nothing. “What happened?”
Yuuji just shrugs and picks at his food. “I’m fine.”
He hears Nobara hum from beside him. “You’ll get sick if you don’t get enough sleep, you know.”
Yuuji sighs quietly. "I'm fine, I promise."
They don't look convinced, but they thankfully leave it at that before Nobara moves the conversation on to something else. He tries to pay attention, something about a special sale on some new shoes, but his brain is so fried from lack of sleep that he quickly zones out.
You should take better care of yourself, Sukuna suddenly says, voice ringing in his head.
It takes everything in Yuuji to not roll his eyes. And why do you care? I thought you hated me.
I've never said that. Besides, you're my vessel, and I—
And you take care of your things. Yes, I know.
Yuuji can almost picture the displeased expression painting the curse's face at being interrupted, and he has to hide his own amused smile behind his hand. It's almost too easy get under Sukuna's skin.
Yes. But there's only so much I can do if you don't start taking care of yourself.
Whatever, Yuuji huffs internally.
Yuuji dies many more times after that, and Sukuna always brings him back. Minus that time in Ijichi’s care, it initially always felt like he just woke up from a nap, not a scratch on him let alone he was a missing a limb and part of his side just a minute ago. But now, he’ll open his eyes and he’ll have to live through the entire healing process.
The worst one to date was waking up to his spine being broken and his guts spilled out beside him. He gags but there’s nothing in him to throw up.
“Sukuna, what—”
His words are cut off when his spine suddenly snaps back in place and the only thing that leaves his mouth is an agonized yell. He squeezes his eyes shut so he doesn’t see his organs being pulled back inside his body, but he feels it. He swallows hard, teeth clenched against the sensations, and tries not to scream.
When the skin on his abdomen finally stitches closed, Yuuji turns to his side, curling in on himself, and sobs. Kugisaki and Fushiguro find him, and they sound relieved to see him, but it quickly turns into concern. Yuuji can’t stop crying when they drag him to his feet and help him to Nitta’s car. They never ask what happened, and Yuuji never explains.
The nightmares get even worse, and he sleeps even less. Every time he closes his eyes, his organs spill into his hands. His intestines slip through his fingers as he watches Sukuna hold his still beating heart.
Yuuji wakes up and throws himself off his bed and vomits into the little trash bin by his desk. It’s not until he’s dry heaved a few times that he’s able to push the bin away and lay down on the floor. He always cries, phantom pains from every fatal injury coursing through his body.
He presses a hand against his chest, and sighs at the heavy pounding of his heart. Still alive. Always alive but always dying. How long before it finally sticks?
As long as I’m with you, you won’t ever truly die, Sukuna says, voice low, soothing.
Yuuji takes in a shaky breath. “Then why don’t you bring me back after you’ve already healed everything? Why during or before you’ve even started?”
There’s a lesson to be learned here, brat, Sukuna huffs. You’re too reckless, and you’re getting sloppy. This is the consequence for throwing your life away so casually.
Yuuji’s suddenly dragged into Sukuna’s domain, lying down in the red water. Sukuna kneels in front of him and tilts his chin up with his finger to look Yuuji in the eyes. His expression is serious and Yuuji has to force himself to keep looking and not turn his head away.
“I won’t let you die,” he says. “But there’s only so much I can do, and am willing to do, when you care so little for yourself.”
“I care—”
“Do you?” Sukuna asks, cutting Yuuji off. “You believe you’re living on borrowed time, so you throw yourself into every fight like it’s your last. If it weren’t for me, you would’ve died ages ago.”
Yuuji frowns, unable to face him now, and looks away. His eyes burn, both from lack of sleep and wanting to cry again. He’s so tired, so very tired.
Sukuna sighs. “You’re my vessel, remember? I take care of my things. I’ll keep you alive, but you also have to want to live… Yuuji, I want you to live.”