Work Text:
It happened maybe once a year when the weather changed from winter to spring. Yuuji chalked it up to the changing weather in and of itself because it was simple, the whole thing was weird, and he’d become protective over the years.
The first time Sukuna had gotten sick, Yuuji had discovered it by accident. He hadn’t heard from Sukuna in days, in neither thoughts nor formed mouths, and thus had barged into Sukuna’s domain. What had greeted him was a pissier than normal Sukuna and was absolutely fucking miserable . When Yuuji had announced that Sukuna looked like shit, Sukuna had tried to lob his head off. What had actually happened was Sukuna’s technique going wide and missing Yuuji completely.
The curse was wildly out of sorts. Yuuji could see it and feel it in the cursed energy Sukuna attempted to command.
It took a lot of coaxing. A lot of coaxing , and a binding vow, but eventually Sukuna allowed Yuuji to take care of him. It became their dirty little secret, and in the very rare instances Sukuna would fall ill, he’d call on Yuuji.
“Little monk.”
Like now.
“Little monk,” Sukuna called from the mouth he’d formed on Yuuji’s cheek. His voice was rough and raspy. It didn’t have the bite that it normally did and was rather subdued.
Yuuji paused his grading of his students’ history homework, pen poised. The stretch in his cheek disappeared and Yuuji laid his pen down carefully. He spun around in his chair to face his bed. The staff quarters were even bigger than the student rooms and it took a couple of years for Yuuji to fill it out to the point that it felt like his.
Posters were tacked up on the walls and a filled-to-the-brim bookshelf took up an entire wall for itself. There was a corkboard that he’d pinned pictures to above his bed and personal workout equipment scattered about, although minimized to a corner of the room. Papers and manga littered the floor in equal measure.
Yuuji lifted his hands and folded them into a specialized seal. The pinkies, pointers, and thumbs of either hand were extended and steepled so that they pressed into each other. His ring and middle fingers were curled into his palms so that only the second knuckles on each touched. “Come, Sukuna,” Yuuji commanded, feeling a sucking sensation behind his heart. Dark red, almost black particles seemed to pull themselves from Yuuji, amassing above his bed until it was a small swirling storm. From one moment to the next the convened particles solidified and Sukuna was on his bed.
The King of Curses was pale and sweaty. Yuuji could see the sheen of sweat on his brow and from the way his kimono clung to him. His eyes were shut and his breathing was loud. His back was pressed against the wall with his head tipped back to rest against it. One leg was tucked up, an arm laid atop it, and the other was stretched out before him. His other arm laid across his lip, limp.
Yuuji had asked exactly one time if curses were known to get sick. Shoko-sensei had been confused by the question as she explained that it shouldn’t be possible outside of a cursed technique. Sukuna declined to shed any light on the strange situation. Yuuji’s working theory was, again, simple: there was no one else like Sukuna so anything was possible.
In recent years, it had become easier to care for Sukuna. He used to have to go into the domain they shared. Now, with the help of Yuta-senpai, Megumi, and Gojo-sensei, he could give Sukuna physical form. It had required quite the ritual which had been long and arduous. Yuuji quite literally wore it on his skin. The double-bands around his wrists and ankles, identical to Sukuna’s, were what bound Sukuna’s physical form to his, and were tattooed with blood and ash. The ancient Japanese that adorned his upper chest and back were the seals that acted as conduits to allow Sukuna access to his physical form. Those were seared into him during the initial ritual that called forth Sukuna.
Yuuji rose from his office chair and crossed his room in a few strides. He clambered onto the bed next to Sukuna and reached out a hand. He brushed the limp, damp hair from Sukuna’s forehead and pressed the inside of his wrist against it. The curse always ran a little warm but he felt like a boiler against the delicate skin of Yuuji’s wrist.
“You’re hot. Way too hot. We need to cool you down,” Yuuji said, rising from the bed. He turned his back on the curse and walked toward a door on the opposite side of the room, near his front door. He made his way through it, turning the light on as he went, and illuminated the bathroom. It was large enough for a tub and Yuuji bent over it to turn it on. He tested the water flooding the bath, satisfied with the temperature. It was lukewarm and would do the trick to help take some of the heat from Sukuna’s feverish body.
Yuuji returned to the room and found Sukuna in the same position, except his main set of eyes had slipped open to reveal red slits. They watched him as he approached, hazy and tired.
“The bath is ready.” Yuuji held out an expectant hand. He didn’t have to wait long for a clawed hand to grab his and he was pulling Sukuna to his feet. The curse swayed with a mumble and a huff. “Let’s go,” Yuuji said, placing a hand at the small of Sukuna’s back and directing the shuffling curse toward the bathroom. He was slow going but Yuuji was patient. He knew the body aches were particularly bad for Sukuna. They seemed to settle in the curse’s joints and made him stiff.
When they entered the bathroom, Sukuna flinched at the glaring light, his eyes closing. Yuuji guided him to the edge of the tub and began the process of de-robing Sukuna. He tugged on the obi and unwound the scarf. Sukuna stood passive, letting Yuuji work in silence. When the last layer of clothing was peeled away and discarded, Yuuji supported Sukuna as he climbed into the water.
The relief was immediate if Sukuna’s sigh was anything to go by. He kept his eyes closed as he slid down until only the tops of his knees and his forehead were visible. The curse didn’t need to breathe and remained submerged long enough for Yuuji to collect his shower gear and the stool. He dragged everything he needed to the head of the tub. Yuuji situated himself and Sukuna sat up so that he could rest his head against the tub’s rim.
Yuuji lifted one of the wash clothes he’d grabbed and dipped it in the water. When it was soaking, Yuuji picked it back up and folded it lengthwise. He let the excess water drip before placing it over Sukuna’s shuttered eyes. The curse sighed again.
“Think I can wash you down?”
“Mmm.” It would be all that he’d get from Sukuna for a while.
And so, their routine began.
It had evolved over the years as a tentative thread of trust formed between them. Sukuna would always be the King of Curses and he’d never be “domesticated” but he had settled down in the years since Yuuji had become his vessel. He still tested Yuuji’s resolve and control from time-to-time but it was more of an exercise than any real attempt on Sukuna’s part.
Yuuji, for his part, was still technically on a stay of execution. Sukuna was aware of that and thus behaved better after Yuuji had taken the twentieth finger. Yuuji’s death meant Sukuna’s and the curse wasn’t quite ready to go. If Yuuji or Sukuna slipped up though, he wouldn’t put it past the higher-ups to put the execution back on.
So, they coexisted. Less King and disgusting bug shit now. More King and tolerable servant. Yuuji didn’t particularly care for that thought but knew it was probably the best way to describe what they had going on. He was, at the very least, sure that’s what Sukuna told himself in the moments Yuuji was taking care of him.
Of course Yuuji was waiting on him hand and foot; he was the help, after all.
Yuuji sucked in a breath and set to work. His first task was to shampoo Sukuna’s hair. It had taken some trial and error but they discovered Sukuna’s preferred brand and scent. Of course his preferred brand was Oribe which meant that Yuuji not only had to special order the hair products but it cost him over a thousand yen to do so. It made his chest hurt and his wallet cry any time he had to order new product. To Yuuji’s never ending surprise though, the curse’s preferred scent was a mixture of honey and strawberries. The scent was subtle but it clung to the hair well. Yuuji had to admit he enjoyed pressing his nose to Sukuna’s hair from time to time to get a hit.
When the shampoo was appropriately lathered, Yuuji set his hands against Sukuna’s temple and worked to massage it into the pink strands. He manhandled Sukuna’s head, lifting and twisting it with soft presses until pink was hidden by bubbly white foam. Yuuji’s next step was to wash the foam away to which he employed the sophisticated method of dumping water over Sukuna’s head with a cup.
He was nicer about it now than he had been in their early years. Now, he used a hand as a dam so that the foam wouldn’t flow into Sukuna’s face, directing it to cascade from his temples. Yuuji liked to think of himself as a water bender while he freed the foam.
After the shampoo was cleared from Sukuna’s hair, Yuuji slathered conditioner into it. He started at the tips and worked his way to the roots, slicking Sukuna’s hair back with the product. While the conditioner conditioned, Yuuji scrubbed Sukuna down.
A loofah in combination with an exfoliating body scrub was used. The soap smelled clean, like fresh rain. Yuuji used tight circles to clean Sukuna, making sure the soap lathered up. He paid special attention to muscle clusters that had a tendency to get tight, pressing a little harder to help work out any lingering tension.
Once that was done, Yuuji migrated back to Sukuna’s head and washed out the conditioner. He cupped the water and poured it over Sukuna’s head, using his free hand to divert the water where he needed it to go. The conditioner liked to cling to Sukuna’s hair so Yuuji took his time working his fingers through the short strands, dragging off the excess product.
“Done!” Yuuji announced, lifting the wash cloth from Sukuna’s eyes. “Time to get you out before you prune.”
Sukuna grunted his ascent despite knowing that curses didn’t prune and pushed himself up until he was standing. Water sluiced over his body, following lines of hardened muscle until it was returned to the tub. Yuuji was already holding open a large, fluffy red towel that was only for Sukuna’s use. It was nicer than his own towels which were threadbare and falling apart. When Sukuna stepped from the tub Yuuji wrapped it around the curse.
Cursed burritos, my favorite, Yuuji thought, his lips wobbling as he fought the urge to smile.
He dragged his hands over the curse, shifting the towel as he went to dry Sukuna off. Body done, Yuuji removed the towel and held it up. “Head,” he commanded. Sukuna obeyed and ducked his head to allow Yuuji free access to it. Yuuji dragged the towel over Sukuna’s head, balancing the need to dry and not wanting to be too rough. The action still caused Sukuna’s hair to stand on end and Yuuji bit his lip to avoid laughing. He finger brushed Sukuna’s hair back into his usual style and then led the curse back into the main room.
If he wanted to, Sukuna could have waved a hand and dressed himself with some conjured clothing, but he didn’t often do it during these times. Instead, Yuuji had a drawer of comfortable clothing for Sukuna. He dug around the drawer and pulled up a pair of sweatpants and a soft t-shirt. Yuuji holds them aloft for approval and receives another grunt.
It was a strange process, dressing Sukuna in modern clothing. He’d been resistant to it at first, demanding yukatas and kimonos, but Yuuji had brought him around to the glory that is sweats and tees. Of course, they had to be the best for the King, and they definitely were a huge hole in his pocket, but they held up well over the years so Yuuji didn’t have to replace them often.
Dressed and washed, Yuuji led Sukuna to his bed where he turned down the covers. Sukuna slipped beneath the sheets and rolled away from Yuuji. He tucked his arm beneath the pillow supporting his head and remained silent as Yuuji tugged the covers back over Sukuna, effectively tucking the curse in.
“Let me know if you need anything,” Yuuji said as he turned from the bed, intent on getting back to grading. He’d let the work sit long enough and it was only a matter of time before Kimiko began asking where their graded work was. A studious student that one. Why she was so insistent on Yuuji grading their work, he’d never know. He sure as hell had never bothered Gojo-sensei about unreturned work.
Before Yuuji could get more than a step away though, his wrist was caught in a tight grip. It was firm and bordering on too tight. He could feel his bones shifting although they weren’t grinding together. It was an uncomfortable and vague threat.
Yuuji peered over his shoulder. Sukuna still had his back to Yuuji but the arm not tucked beneath his head was twisted back at an inhuman angle. He huffed at the sight and resigned himself to facing Kimiko for the incomplete work on his end.
“Alright, alright,” Yuuji said with an eye roll. He tapped the back of Sukuna’s hand and it retreated to its own, slipping out of sight beneath the covers.
Yuuji returned to the bed and climbed in behind Sukuna. He nudged the curse’s elbow and was amused watching Sukuna shift further away to make more room. With a lot of bouncing and twisting, Yuuji situated himself against the headboard with his legs tucked beneath the covers. He snagged up the TV remote next to him and flipped on a documentary series about working at a zoo, although he kept the volume low.
As the documentary continued, Yuuji settled more against the headboard, tucking a pillow behind his back for support. He returned the remote to the bedside table and placed his other hand on Sukuna’s head. He pet the soft, damp strands and scraped his nails lightly against Sukuna’s scalp. It was not unlike petting a tiger: there was always the chance his hand would be removed.
But also like petting a tiger, the risk was worth it. Yuuji did feel a little bad because if Sukuna was allowing him to pet his hair, it meant that he had to be feeling really sick. Unfortunately, there was little Yuuji could actually do to assuage Sukuna’s illness. There was no cough medicine for curses. He could only try to make Sukuna as comfortable as possible and wait the sickness passed in a few days.
Yuuji slipped his thumb beneath the neck of Sukuna’s shirt and swiped along the skin there. His palm was pressed to the nape of the King’s neck, the short strands there rasping against his callouses, and his fingers rubbed little circles on the side of Sukuna’s neck. Yuuji began humming a tune that had been stuck in his head for the last couple of days. It was probably something he’d heard the students playing while training.
“Little monk.”
“Yeah?”
“You will stay here tonight.”
Yuuji looked down at Sukuna at his side. He could just make out the side of the curse’s face. His eyes were closed and he’d looked like he’d said nothing at all. The tattoos were a dark contrast to the King’s pale skin. Easy to trace.
Feeling a little bold, Yuuji leaned over Sukuna. The curse didn’t flinch, didn’t crack open an eye. Yuuji set his hand at Sukuna’s temple and brushed back the hair there, away from the other’s face. Still, the curse appeared to ignore Yuuji.
Yuuji dropped a light kiss against Sukuna’s temple. The close proximity meant he could smell a mix of rain and strawberries, a scent that he’d become accustomed to and associated with the curse. When he pulled back, two red eyes were cracked open, top and bottom, and were glaring at him from the corner. Yuuji smiled wide and sat back up, smug at having gotten a reaction out of Sukuna.
“Of course,” Yuuji said, returning to watching his show and sifting his fingers through Sukuna’s hair, “I’ll be right here.”