Archive of Our Own

He sweeps his eyes across the darkened landscape, not recognizing the land that was once his. In a way, to know he’s caused this destruction, it fills his stomach with pride and swells his chest with confidence as he flexes his arms out in front of him.

The bodies around him are just numbers to count: tedious, but worthwhile. The higher the number increases, the higher he feels, breathing laboriously as unbridled pleasure courses through him. 

Twenty-two, twenty-three, twe—

Just as he is about to count another dead woman, lying on her stomach in her own blood and guts, she twitches, her fingers reaching forward.

He stands, waiting to see what she would dare do.

Unable to lift her head, she grabs at his robes, clutching them tightly, “... Help me. ”

He stares at her for a moment, folding his arms into his sleeves as he waits.

“HELP ME! ” She screams, finally raising her face to him. She is wretched and disgusting and savage. A long, deep cut across her neck oozes thick streams of dark red blood. How she is still able to speak, much less how she is alive, is beneath him.

“You’re getting me dirty,” He snaps, kicking her ribs, sending her flying backward. She hits a stone wall, a loud crack echoing in the silence. 

And yet, even though he knows she is dead, he can’t bring himself to count her as twenty-four.

No, because even though he knows she is dead, he can still hear her voice in his head, playing over and over. 

Help me, help me, help me, help me, heLP ME, HELP ME, HELP ME, HELP ME—-

Yuuji Itadori jolts awake, breathing so hard it nearly deafens him. That, and the fact that his heartbeat is so loud in his ears makes it impossible for him to orient himself.

Quickly, he sits up, thinking foolishly that’ll help. Instead, he succeeds in freaking himself out more as he catches someone out of the corner of his eye. 

A woman, the woman, it’s her, she’s here!

HELP ME!

He cries out, turning away from her gaze, getting his foot stuck in his blankets, sending him over the edge of his bed. He crashes against the wooden floor, his heel and tailbone smashing down so hard he’s seeing stars. 

On his side, he curls into a ball, hoping to relieve the pain. He immediately straightens as he realizes that position is only detrimental to his breathing, grunting. He turns to kneel, heaving into the ground, balling his hand into a fist and pressing his forehead against the cold wood. 

Okay, what the fuck?!

Breathing is grueling, thinking is near impossible.

In out, in out, in out, in out—

He can’t remember what got him here, on the ground, folded over himself, trying to remember how to make his lungs work. He can’t remember the dream he just had, nor can he remember where that voice in his head is coming from. Who is that woman? Who is she yelling at? Why was he scared of her? 

Yuuji dares, dares to sneak a glimpse of the woman he’d seen. Had she come to haunt him as a ghost? A curse? 

Then…it all sinks in. 

What had spooked him earlier, the woman he had cried wolf…was simply the woman on the poster on his wall. The same one he had put up himself a couple of months ago.

His next breath is long and shaky, an exhale of relief, as he feels overwhelming stupidity push down on him. 

Finally, his heart quiets down and his breathing slows.

Then, a shock courses through him as a noise penetrates his tense silence. 

A knock at the door.

Fuck.

Yuuji stands on wobbly feet, wincing slightly as he puts pressure on his ankle. He staggers to the door, a hand in his hair and another reaching for the doorknob, faking nonchalance.

He turns the knob, opening the door inward slightly to get a glimpse of who it was.

Standing in the hallway, his fingers intertwined in front of him, is Megumi, clearly woken up by Yuuji’s…whatever that was.

“Fushiguro?” Yuuji whispers to him as he opens the door further, tilting his head. 

Between them, each of their worries thickens the air. 

“The fuck are you doing at this hour?” Megumi’s fingers relax, his hands falling to his sides when he sees Yuuji. “You were making a racket…Is everything alright?”

Yuuji laughs shortly, “Yeah, yeah, sorry. Just…” 

Every excuse ever falls off his tongue. It sits in his mouth, useless and unwilling to help. 

“...Just?” Megumi eggs him on, his shoulders turning slightly rigid as the air between them grows cold.

“Just got startled ‘s all,” Yuuji finally manages, fully extending his arm to push the door open and stand in the doorway. 

Megumi’s eyebrows furrow, obviously not convinced, but willing to let it go, “Alright. Next time you do that, I’m gonna kick down the door.”

“I don’t doubt that!” Yuuji laughs through his fake smile. “I hope I didn’t wake anyone else up!” 

“Oh, so it’s alright if it’s me you wake up? Besides, no one else lives in this hallway,” Megumi scowls, straightening himself and ready to go back to his room. “Go to sleep.” 

“You’re right. Good night, Fushiguro!” 

Megumi’s eyes widen, but he withdraws, taking a step back, “...Yeah, ‘night.”

Then, he turns, walking a little too fast to his room, his heartbeat speeding up. 

With every step, he feels he’s getting slower. With every breath, he feels he’s getting heavier. 

When he gets to his room, he throws open his door, slamming it shut behind him.

He presses his back against it, his fingers shaking as his palms lay flat on the cold surface, pushing it like he’s keeping someone from coming in. Slowly, he lets himself slide to the ground as his knees come up and he drops his forehead against them. 

When Yuuji had opened the door, Megumi hadn’t seen it at first. But when he opened it wider, letting the light from the moon shine in…

On his right cheek, where those dimple-like scars sat under his eyes…

One of those scars was open, revealing one of Sukuna’s red eyes, glowing mischievously under the light. When Megumi had made eye contact with it, it curved into a half-crescent shape, as if Sukuna was smiling.

Taunting him.

Itadori…what’s going on?

Yuuji Itadori couldn’t tell you either.

He had his suspicions, but he didn’t dare give himself the confidence to trust his own thoughts. 

What if they weren’t even his?

Ever since he had died and mysteriously been resurrected, he’d felt…odd to say the least. He tried his best to push it down, convincing himself that he’d just eaten something that wasn’t agreeing with his stomach. But when he begins to feel like that every day…

Yuuji Itadori isn’t dumb. He’s stupid, but he isn’t dumb.

Yuuji feels it when he eats. Especially when he eats.

Nothing satiates his appetite.

Everything he ate felt… wrong. His grandfather’s meatball recipe fails him, the dining hall’s food leaves him feeling hungrier than he was before, and the vending machine snacks are a waste of his money. 

He feels this emptiness elsewhere.

He feels it when he walks, when he thinks, when he speaks, when he fights and trains, exerting more effort than he needs to, like he’s making up for something that he doesn’t have anymore. But what exactly could that be? Strength, he had. Strategy, not so much, but that’s not what he’s compensating for…

Conversely, there’s a sort of fullness in his head, where he supposes Sukuna is. He hadn’t actually seen or visited Sukuna in his mind just yet. He dreads the day he does or is forced to. 

He’s seen Sukuna’s domain when the King allowed him to. The Malevolent Shrine…or whatever.

Fitting, Yuuji supposes.

He hasn’t visited though; he’s only seen it at the back of his mind, whenever Sukuna graces him with his presence, saying more than he needs to. Which is nothing. He needs to be saying nothing.

When Sukuna isn’t talking, when he’s simply lying in wait, like a panther in the bushes, ready to strike his prey…that’s when it gets scary. It’s been happening a lot more recently than before. Ever since Yuuji died…

When Sukuna doesn’t do anything, that’s when Yuuji’s anxiety skyrockets. When the echo is too loud, his thoughts are too big, and he can’t take the silent, weighted emptiness Sukuna leaves.

But it’s not completely empty. Sukuna refuses to let him forget about him, refuses to let him have anything to himself, even his own body and mind. When Yuuji closes his eyes, he can only see Sukuna’s glowing red, hollow voids staring back at him in darkness he cannot explore. It’s terrifying, especially when he notices that he’s not seeing double. That, in fact, there are not two, but four eyes staring back at him in the black abyss. 

It’s even more alarming when he realizes that every time he eats another finger, the eyes glow brighter, and the sour, metallic smell in the air grows thicker. 

He understands these sensations, to an extent.

Yuuji knows that he’s eating for two, and not in a pleasant way. He knows that Sukuna had four arms, four eyes, and two faces. He knows that Sukuna killed…a lot of people. More than he could count up to, willingly. He doesn’t like to think about it, as much as he can’t help it.

But out of all the things Sukuna has given him, the one he loathes the most is the memories. 

The memories that he knows aren’t his. They’re not Yuuji Itadori’s. 

Yuuji Itadori knows this because he can’t remember anything before high school. Clearly, at least. 

He remembers having a father and a mother. He vaguely remembers his silly elementary days when he frightened every adult with his curiosity and eagerness. He can recall faint details, but only if called upon or someone reminds him. 

He can’t remember…he can’t remember his grandfather’s face. Nor his father’s.

The only member of his family he can remember is his mother’s smiling face, a crown of stitches on her head.

And even then, he’s honestly forgotten about that too. 

Yuuji Itadori cannot tell you why he can’t remember. Or if he ever will. 

But he can assuredly tell you Sukuna’s memories are not his memories. He knows they’re not his because he would never…he would never kill to the extent that Sukuna had.

And also, Yuuji has two arms. In his nightmares and the faint daydreams that play on a loop in the back of his eyes, he has four. 

They’re Sukuna’s memories. He knows that. But…to say that they weren’t a part of Yuuji now was a lie. They come from the same place his own dreams and thoughts come from. They’re cut from the same cloth, embroidered by the same hands, and sold by the same shop. 

And when he wakes up, dazed and fearful of things he hasn’t done and words he hasn’t spoken, he can barely make sense of what is his. Which cut of the cloth is his and which is Sukuna’s.

To be fair, he could barely remember these nightmares. The only thing he can feel is the burning in his nostrils from the scent of blood and smoke and the overwhelming feelings of despair and nausea. 

He finds the feeling comparable to how it was after Sukuna stole his body from him. When Sukuna fought Megumi and beat him to a pulp. 

It is something that he wishes he could forget, but Sukuna cradles it over Yuuji’s head like a toy in front of a cat. 

He is there to remind him when he feels like Yuuji is forgetting the power Sukuna holds. That as long as Sukuna is here, no one in the present world is safe from him and his plans. Nobara isn’t safe. Neither is Maki or Panda or Toge. 

Megumi isn’t safe. Megumi would never be safe. As long as Sukuna lives, as long as Megumi does, he is not safe. What Sukuna’s plan was, and what he planned to do with his friend, Yuuji would never know. 

Despite being conjoined with Sukuna in more ways than he would like, he could never know what the King of Curses was thinking unless he allowed Yuuji to know. And even then, he could always lie.

Yuuji Itadori doesn’t know as much as he would like to. 

And that…bothers him more than anything.

“Gojou-sensei…”

Satoru turns to Yuuji, a smile already on his lips, happy for the attention, “Yes, Yuuji?”

“What was Sukuna like?” 

Satoru’s smile freezes on his face, his lips twitching. Really, Yuuji had every right to be curious, Satoru thinks. But what exactly made him ask this question today? 

“Why do you wanna know?” Satoru questions, his tone indescribable, crossing his legs. “Can’t you ask him yourself?”

“I don’t really think he’d answer. Plus…I don’t think I want to,” Yuuji shrugs, sitting across from him. 

“He was…well, he was evil. Is evil. It took nearly the entire coalition of jujutsu sorcerers back then to defeat him. Barely did. He was so strong that he’s still here today, as you can see.”

“Not as strong as you,” Yuuji unintentionally plays into his sensei’s desire for praise.

“See, you get it. He was considered a criminal obviously. In fact, they had tattooed black ringlets around his wrists. It was custom at the time,” Satoru lifts his arms up to show off his own wrists, wriggling his fingers playfully. 

Yuuji nods thoughtfully, looking down at his hands, “Yeah, I’ve seen those. What about the other tattoos? What do they mean?”

At that, Satoru’s smile drops, “What?”

How does he know about that?

Yuuji glances up at his teacher’s expression, “...You…don’t see them?”

“What are you talking about?” Satoru’s tone is dark, frightening Yuuji just a bit. 

“No, never mind…” Yuuji shakes his head, looking away from the black cuffs on his wrists. “Maybe it’s just my imagination.”

“You guys can’t see them?”

“See what?”

“The marks…when Sukuna’s taken over?”

Nobara gives him a look like he’d asked if Sukuna gave him a second penis, “You’re telling me you get some sick tattoos from Sukuna on top of everything else?”

“I mean… I can see them? I thought you all could, too,” Yuuji’s eyebrows furrow down his forehead, knitting together. “But I asked Gojou-sensei and he’s never…” He joins his wrists together, the pitch black rings conjoining as he tightens his hands into fists. 

Megumi shakes his head, looking away, “Every time Sukuna has taken over, we’d have to guess. Well…it wasn’t a guess, more so a feeling. I could tell when you were gone.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Nobara shrugs. “I’ve never seen Sukuna in action. It’s kinda unfair. Why’s Fushiguro his favorite?”

“Wanna trade?” Megumi deadpans, turning to glare at her. 

“Not really. He wouldn’t like a strong woman like me,” Nobara flips her hair over her shoulder, leaning back to bask in the sunlight.

Yuuji nods, agreeable as ever, “No, he would hate her.”

I already do , Sukuna grunts. 

Yuuji nods again, “Yep, he does.”

“See? Even the King of Curses is no match for me,” Nobara gives Yuuji a playful nudge with her elbow.

I wouldn’t be too sure, Yuuji thinks. 

I wouldn’t get too close, Sukuna snaps, clicking his teeth together. 

Don’t even think about it.

“Itadori?”

Yuuji looks up at Megumi, eyes wide in inquiry, “Yeah?”

Megumi stares back, his eyes slightly narrowed as they scan Yuuji’s face, “You…you’re good?”

“Yeah?” Yuuji says it like a question. 

He is so fucking bad at lying. Megumi frowns.

You are so fucking bad at lying . Sukuna goads.

I am so fucking bad at lying. Yuuji whimpers.

For someone who is always sincere, lying is the hardest thing for Yuuji to do. But for Megumi, he would do it a hundred times over. Megumi needs to stay away from him, especially when he’s in this state. The more active Sukuna is, the more fear Yuuji has. 

It’s for your own good, Fushiguro. You don’t need to care about someone like me.

“Right,” Megumi gives him a look. “Just be careful.”

“Yeah.”

“Yuuji’s been acting a little weird lately,” Satoru stares outside the window, sipping his tea slowly. 

Nanami doesn’t look at him, engrossed in his newspaper, “I’m surprised you even noticed.”

Satoru tsks, “He’s my student, Nanami, I kinda have to.”

Satoru is lying.

These words are plagiarized from his student. A few hours prior, Megumi had been the one to encourage him to entertain the thought for more than a couple of seconds. His student had stomped into the room, demanding, “What did you do to Itadori?” 

Satoru turned in his chair, eyebrows raised above his glasses, “Hello to you too.”

Megumi stalked over to stand across from him, “He’s been acting weird and it’s probably because of you.”

“Quite an accusation. A false one, at that. He has been acting strange as of late. He’s a lot more…jittered,” Satoru had stopped trying to play back and forth with him, his solemnity and eloquence taking Megumi by surprise. “It’s worrisome.”

Seeing his teacher take this matter seriously made Megumi complacent, sitting down and leaning forward over his knees. “Yesterday night, he was crashing around his room. I think he was having a nightmare. Those are normal, but for Itadori—”

“They’re anything but, I know,” Satoru nodded, thoughtfully. “I’ll check up on him.” 

In the present, Satoru first seeks counsel from a coworker. An old friend, he would say, much to Nanami’s chagrin. 

“Where is he?” Nanami flips a page. “I’ve been meaning to check up on him.”

“With the others,” Satoru mindlessly dismisses, setting his cup down. “He’s got a mission later.”

That makes Nanami glance at him over the newspaper, “What grade?”

“Four grade twos.”

“And who’s going with him?” 

“Just Megumi, I think. Nobara’s training with the second years more often now. She insisted, in fact. Kinda weird. You’d think she’d jump at the opportunity to go on more missions the way Yuuji has.”

Probably because of what happened to Itadori…she felt like she wasn’t strong enough, Nanami deduces quickly. Even though he had never met Nobara in person, at that moment, after what Satoru said, he felt a connection to her. 

I did the same thing after…

Nanami is quiet for a moment, his eyes not moving from the same spot on the page, “...Don’t you think that’s a bit difficult for sorcerers of their rank and experience?”

Especially after…

“Megumi might as well be a grade one, and Yuuji can’t even be confined to any of our silly jujutsu terms. I think they’ll be more than enough.”

“If you say so.”

“I do.”

Nanami frowns, hiding his expression. But Satoru notices anyway; partly because of his Six Eyes and partly because he knows how Nanami reacts when it comes to Yuuji. 

“What is it?”

“You’ve just…got me thinking. About Sukuna and Yuuji…Their compatibility…”

Satoru’s ears perk up, a conversation that he’s been aching to have finally happening, “What about it?”

“Previously, we had been worried that Sukuna wouldn’t be compatible with Yuuji’s body. Well, that was the worry with him consuming the first finger. His body wouldn’t be able to handle the curse’s power and he would…”

Satoru makes an explosion gesture with his hands, reminding himself of that night. He finds himself grateful that hadn’t happened. Not just for Yuuji’s sake, but for Megumi’s.

As stable and strong as his pupil was, Satoru doesn’t think Megumi can take another shock like that. Or rather, Satoru refuses to let him be scarred by the Jujutsu world the way he was. All his students deserve to live fruitful, fun lives while they are still in their youth.

“You get the idea,” Nanami continues. “But what if the issue isn’t that Yuuji is incompatible with Sukuna…but rather that he is too compatible with him? Is it not alarming that Yuuji is able to take in so much of Sukuna’s cursed energy without losing an arm or leg under the pressure? And previously, he hadn’t even been trained as a sorcerer.”

Satoru nods. “As far as we know, he is the first sorcerer of his family.”

“So, how is he able to inhabit the same body as Sukuna?” Nanami wonders aloud. “To me…it feels like Sukuna is forcefully fusing them together, morphing into one being. Not necessarily physically…but mentally, where Sukuna is living, anyway.”

Satoru’s next intake of air is sharp, but he’s silent, letting Nanami say exactly what Satoru had been thinking for months now. 

“The first finger accepted him, as all the fingers continue to do so. Every finger is another link in the chain between them,” Nanami mutters, folding the newspaper in his lap. “Do you think they, along the lines,…are blood-related?”

Satoru doesn’t need to ask why Nanami dared to think that, “Because of how easily his body accepted Sukuna. And Yuuji’s got inhuman strength even without Sukuna…and now with him…It’s possible, but I don’t think we can even find information on his parents, much less his ancestors.”

Nanami lets that train of thought die for now, “And after Yuuji’s resurrection…did you notice anything different?”

“His cursed energy…his sheer power has nearly tripled,” Satoru’s voice dips as he realizes the conclusions he and Nanami are getting to. “He understood and could use cursed energy and technique rather quickly…”

Nanami snaps his finger, “He was even able to hone Black Flash and utilize it at a record-breaking speed…As I thought—”

“They’re…becoming one.”

“Sukuna’s planting his bones in Yuuji’s closet. We can’t exactly fight Sukuna from the inside out, can we?” 

Satoru looks outside the window, “Only Yuuji can.”

Yuuji Itadori can’t.

That’s what he thinks at least.

Something in him has been convinced of this weakness. 

It’s not necessarily that Yuuji is weak. Far from it. It’s that when put next to Sukuna…Yuuji can feel the difference between them. With every word Sukuna speaks, Yuuji can hear the echo of the space between them. 

And…

Sickeningly…something that Yuuji would never confess to anyone, especially not his friends or his teacher…

Yuuji has a desire to fill that gap. 

To walk closer to Sukuna and grab his hand. To do something that he knows will be irreversible: 

Give his body to Sukuna. 

Don’t get it twisted. Yuuji does not want to do that. But a part of him understands that he would always be weaker than Sukuna. Always less than. And unless he accepts Sukuna’s help, in whatever way the Cursed King is offering to give it to him, he will stay that way. 

It’s a shame, really. 

But it’s a burden Yuuji is willing to carry if it means ensuring everyone’s safety. 

Truly, though…

Sukuna is starting to be a problem. More so than he already was.  

At four fingers, Sukuna shouldn’t be too much of a threat, but something is eating at Yuuji’s psyche. Well, Sukuna was, but something about Sukuna specifically. 

Sukuna is much more…confident. 

Before, the King of Curses was already acting all high and mighty, very keen on being as boisterous as possible. But this is a different kind of confidence and pride. It’s quieter. Stealthier. 

It’s as if Sukuna was hiding something. The something that was giving him this unbridled confidence. A card that Yuuji couldn’t predict. That no one could predict. 

Yuuji tries to figure it out, but that usually ends in sleepless nights and needless arguments and fights with Sukuna who does nothing but laugh and ignore his questions. It worries him so much, that he quickly loses his appetite and starts throwing himself into training and missions. 

And that worries Megumi Fushiguro. 

Megumi also is similar to Sukuna in the sense that their interactions with Yuuji are always muted, concealing whatever their true thoughts and intentions were. 

Megumi’s kindness is quieter. Stealthier. 

He speaks his love through ears pressed against thin walls and lopsided frowns at breakfast. Through shaking legs under the table and furrowed eyebrows during lunch. Through shallow questions and disquieted glances over dinner. 

Only someone who is paying attention could see. Only someone who is well-versed in Megumi’s love language could understand just how anxious he truly was for Yuuji’s wellbeing.

Only two people are. But one is a bumbling idiot and the other is in a coma. 

So Megumi is virtually alone with his thoughts and uneasiness. 

He couldn’t talk to Nobara about any of his theories or worries. She would simply brush him aside, insisting that she doesn’t care and that he shouldn’t either.

And Yuuji would never be one to purposefully worry Megumi. Never. Yuuji knows Megumi is already strung up as it is. 

He would never speak about silly things like unusual nightmares, lost appetites, or unnatural habits. 

He would never, ever tell Megumi about his sudden craving for something…human. 

He would absolutely never tell Megumi about the nightmares he’s had of raping men and women, both strangers and those he knew. He would never tell Megumi about the hallucinations he’s been having of beheaded children and of his bloodstained claws and of flesh stuck between his fanged teeth and of the marks on his skin tightening until it stops the flow of oxygen and blood throughout his body and of dismembered limbs that choke him in his sleep and of—

“Itadori, are you ready to go?” 

“Yeah, gimme a sec,” Yuuji responds, rinsing his hands in the pond water one last time. 

The red blood still remains, dripping down his forearms and staining his black tattoos. 

“What are you doing?” Megumi asks for the first time that day. 

Yuuji chuckles a little, hiding a hand in his hair, the other behind his back, “Oh, my hands were just getting really, really sweaty!”

He is so fucking bad at lying. Megumi frowns.

I am so fucking bad at lying. Yuuji whimpers.

Sukuna remains silent. 

He always is, in these lasting moments. The prolonged silence turns the crumbs Yuuji ate for breakfast around in his stomach. 

“Right…Can you hurry that up? Ijichi-san is waiting for us,” Megumi is already turning away, not willing to take Yuuji’s mind off the mission. 

He already knows this would prove to be a challenge, more so than the other ones they’ve been taking. Plus, Yuuji has little experience going on a mission, compared to Megumi. He’d only gone on three: one before his death and two after. 

If Yuuji wants to play dumb, Megumi would follow along. He could play this game as long as Yuuji needs him to…or at least, as long as Megumi believes it’s okay to.

If worse comes to worst, he’ll step in. 

And he’s got Satoru on speed dial. 

Now that he thought about that for more than three seconds, that actually is a terrible backup plan. 

“Good afternoon, Ijichi-san,” Megumi bows his head respectfully to arguably the second most sane adult at the school. 

Ijichi, as humble as ever, bows even deeper back, holding the door open, “Good afternoon to you too, Fushiguro-kun! Where is Itadori-kun?” His eyes search frantically across the lawn as he waits for Megumi’s hesitant response. 

Nanami’s words are still rattling Ijichi’s bones, sending uncomfortable chills across his skin.

Earlier, his upperclassman had visited him in his office, an uncharacteristic, small smile on his face. Ijichi was slumped across his desk, a mountain of reports and documents to file away, unwilling to carry on. He let out a soft groan as he tapped his pen insistently on the wood. 

Nanami had leaned over Ijichi’s shoulder, a hand in his pocket and the other on the back of the office chair, “Ijichi-san, I see you’re as dependable as ever.”

“Oh!” Ijichi had jumped quickly, straightening his posture in the presence of his superior. His cheeks flushed as he chuckled. “W-Well, I’m just doing my job, you know!”

“Right. About that,” Nanami’s smile was quickly gone, almost as if it was never there. “Today, you’re accompanying Fushiguro-kun and Itadori-kun to their mission, correct?”

“Yes, I am. How’d yo—”

“May I ask a favor of you?”

That made Ijichi stop. 

It was unusual of someone at Nanami’s… level in life to ask him for favors. The adult-of-adults Kento Nanami was asking the lowest of the low Kiyotaka Ijichi to do something for him. Sure, Nanami was technically within his rights to ‘command’ Ijichi to do something, but that wasn’t what that was. It was a favor. A personal request. 

Ijichi’s uncertainty made Nanami worry, his grip on the chair tightening. 

“I suppose if it’s within my ability to do so, then absolutely!” Ijichi found the words after a bit. 

Nanami immediately relaxed, his hand falling to his side as he reflexively bowed a little, “Thank you. It is not something that requires too much time or difficulty.”

Ijichi didn’t know what to say to Nanami’s sudden gratefulness, but he gently pushed his hand on Nanami’s shoulder, forcing him out of his bow. 

This was serious, wasn’t it?

“I just ask that you keep an extra eye on Itadori-kun today. He’s been…worrying me a bit. Maybe take him and Fushiguro-kun out for a treat after the mission, if they are hopefully unharmed. You can use my card. And get yourself something too. You’ve worked hard.”

That’s it?! Ijichi couldn’t help but think incredulously. He wants me to do my job ?!

But Nanami definitely wouldn’t have asked if he didn’t believe that it would be a problem. Ijichi was usually attentive to the students; he probably cared for them as much if not more than Nanami did. To have Nanami tell him directly something was wrong is completely different, though. This means that Ijichi can’t second guess his intuition and shy away from checking in on the students’ well-being. 

He won’t do that. 

He couldn’t stand to see another child broken in his backseat. 

“No worries, Nanami-senpai. I’ll let you know if anything comes up.”

In the present, Ijichi’s skin itches under the pressure of the promise he’s made. It isn’t any more responsibility than he usually took on, but it sure felt like it.

Megumi doesn’t glance behind him as he slides into the back seat, “He’s coming.”

He always does. 

Yuuji is reliable. He is stable and steadfast. A constant.

He would never leave again. Not if Megumi had anything to say about it. 

The drive to the mission is smooth sailing. 

Ijichi and Megumi discuss the nature of the mission, going over previous encounters and the location of the curses. It’s the usual, save for the former sneaking nervous glances at Yuuji who is silent in the backseat. 

Megumi chooses to ignore this. 

He could live with silence, despite it not being the norm. 

He senses it. 

Sukuna’s presence.

It thickens the air, turning its smell foul, and its taste on his tongue sour. Suddenly, the car feels smaller, his throat feels tighter, his breaths feel shorter, his face feels hotter, his hands feel colder, his body feels shakier, his—

“Fushiguro.”

A warm hand clamps down on top of his thigh, stopping it from bouncing up and down. Megumi hadn’t even realized he was doing that. He snaps his head toward Yuuji, his panic quickly tensing his muscles and cutting off his breath. 

I have to make sure, I have to make sure, I have to ma—

Staring at him, his worry clear in his brown eyes, is assuredly Yuuji Itadori. It is Yuuji. It’s him. 

Megumi immediately relaxes, shoulders visibly slouching as he looks away.

“Are you nervous?” Yuuji whispers, leaning closer, his grip tightening slightly. 

Megumi shakes his head, a little faster than necessary, not having the mind to move Yuuji’s hand, “No. I’m not.”

“Are you sure?”

Megumi freezes all over again, the alien yet familiar voice seizing his muscles until he feels them cramp. 

When he dares to look down where Yuuji’s hand rests on his thigh…Sukuna’s mouth is smirking up at him, a wide and evil sneer covering the expanse of Yuuji’s tan skin. Megumi’s eyes burn as he keeps looking at it, unable to push Yuuji off in fear that Sukuna would touch him. 

He can’t breathe.

“Fushiguro? Fushiguro ?” 

Megumi doesn’t dare move to the sound of familiarity, the sound of safety. What would Sukuna do if he looked away? What would Sukuna do?

A hand forcefully turns his head away, grasping his chin firmly, but gently. “Fushiguro!”

Megumi blinks his eyes finally, tears watering in them as he comes face to face with Yuuji Itadori, whose brown eyes are definitely Yuuji Itadori’s, whose face is definitely Yuuji Itadori’s, whose hand under his jaw is Yuuji Itadori’s, the hand on his thigh is—

He quickly glances over at his lap, his breath stopping again. It’s—!

Still Yuuji Itadori’s. 

The mouth that had been there not even five seconds prior is gone. It’s just Yuuji Itadori.

“What’s wrong?” Yuuji asks, alarmed.

Megumi again shakes his head, but this time, moves Yuuji’s hand off his thigh, placing it in the latter’s lap. 

Was I…imagining that?!

Smooth sailing. The drive is smooth sailing.

The mission finishes without a hitch. 

It was stated in Ijichi’s report that the two curses drew power from each other, therefore making them more powerful if they were a pair. That’s what had made them such a high grade.

Easy, then: draw them away from each other and fight them like that. 

So the two first years ran in opposite directions under the guise that it was ‘because of the mission’. 

But for Megumi…it’s a little more than that. 

Megumi doesn’t really want to…be near Yuuji right now.

He would never admit that. To anyone. Not to a single breathing, living soul. 

He would never admit just how terrified he was of Sukuna. 

He is scared. Genuinely filled with fear. 

It isn’t that he’s just scared of what Sukuna would do to him. But what Sukuna would and could do to Yuuji. To his friends, to his family. To his Satoru and to his Tsumiki. 

It isn’t that Megumi thinks they’re weak . Far from it. No, Satoru Gojou is the Strongest. It’s that when put next to Sukuna…Megumi can see the difference between them. Even Special Grade Yuuta Okkotsu…against the King of Curses?

Every time Sukuna speaks, every time he takes over…

There’s a space. There’s a large gap that can only be filled with the knowledge of what Sukuna has in store for the world. Has in store for Megumi.

Which no one but Sukuna has.

In a sick way, Megumi has a desire to fill that gap. 

To walk closer to Sukuna and grab his hand. To do something that he knows will be irreversible: 

Give his body to Sukuna. 

Don’t get it twisted. Megumi does not want to do that. But a part of him understands that he would always be weaker than Sukuna. Than Satoru, Yuuta, Toge, Maki. Than Yuuji. Always less than. And unless he accepts Sukuna’s help, in whatever way the Cursed King is offering to give it to him, he will stay that way. 

It’s a shame, really. 

Ryomen Sukuna has a plan for his technique, wants to use his power for something, wants to use him for something. 

If he just…gave himself to Sukuna…would that stop all of this? Would he stop tormenting Yuuji? Let the young sorcerer live his life to the fullest? 

But isn’t that what Yuuji intended for Megumi? A long life?

He killed himself for Megumi’s safety. For Megumi. For Megumi, Yuuji Itadori sacrificed his life. He switched back with Sukuna even though he knew he would not be able to continue living.

For Megumi.

And the fucking reason Yuuji Itadori even has Sukuna is because of Megumi.

Megumi Fushiguro is scared. He is scared of what he has created. The monster he chose to save for his own selfish reasons. For his own selfish wants and feelings.

For Yuuji Itadori.

He is scared for Yuuji Itadori. 

He is scared of what he has cursed Yuuji with.

God…what has he done?

Megumi would never admit this.

Once he’s finished off his curse, he leaves. Before releasing it, he lets his Divine Dog munch on the remains of it, cleaning up the mess. Then, he turns to jog in Yuuji’s direction, sending Nue up to search for his whereabouts. Megumi counts as he watches his bird disappear.

After nearly seven seconds, Nue appears out of the clouds again, flapping its wings as it settles at Megumi’s side. Itadori isn’t that far, Megumi gathers. 

“Thank you. You’ve worked hard,” Megumi whispers into Nue’s feathers as he strokes its head. He returns Nue back into his shadows, already taking off into a sprint toward Yuuji.

What he finds, he wishes he could lose.

Megumi finds Yuuji in a clearing in the trees, hunched over, his back to him. 

“Itadori, what are you doing?”

Yuuji immediately stops, slime and goop dripping off of his fingers and hitting the grass with an unceremonious plop. 

What is he doing? What is he doing? What is he doing?

It’s the second time he’s asked that question today. The first time, he didn’t get an answer. But this time…

Yuuji is… eating the curse. 

He slowly turns to Megumi, giving the other boy a clearer view of his face. 

He is. He is. He’s eating it. It’s in his hands. It’s in his mouth. It’s staining his skin, it’s staining his skin, it’s staining his skin, it’s—

Those smooth, tan hands. The ones that had comforted Megumi an hour prior.

And his face. 

His face is assuredly…it is without a doubt…this person in front of him is…Yuuji Itadori.

It’s not Sukuna. It’s not. It’s Yuuji Itadori. 

But the little scars under his eyes are open, revealing Sukuna’s sleepy eyes as if he were unconscious. Maybe…Maybe Megumi can get away with saying it was Sukuna. Yeah…Yuuji’s fingernails are longer, shaped almost like claws, clutching onto grey flesh, stained with the black blood of the curse he’s been…he is….

Yuuji Itadori is eating a curse.

Megumi’s voice is…Megumi sounds… terrified.  

“Itadori…drop it,” His pupils are blown out, the green nearly gone. His voice shakes, despite his commanding tone. “ Drop it. ” 

He orders Yuuji…like he would his dog.

Yuuji obeys , opening his hands and letting the pieces of flesh fall from his hands, disintegrating before it could hit the ground. The rest disappears as well, just leaving behind the slime on Yuuji’s skin.

“Fushiguro—”

“Get up.”

“Please, just—”

“ GET UP!” Megumi roars, unable to hold his frustration, his terror, his horror back any longer.

Yuuji obeys.

He stands quickly but his legs are so shaky, so numb that he collapses to his knees once again, breathing heavily. Laboriously, like he is fighting something…something within.

And Megumi can’t help but think, This…is all my fault. 

His ignorance, his negligence, his inability to be better, to do better …

It all led to this. 

He is the reason why Yuuji got his hands on the finger. He is the reason why Yuuji is forced to live this life. Yuuji DIED . He died and it was Megumi’s fault. It is all Megumi’s fault, all of it, all of it, every single thing. 

And karma is just coming to collect its reparations. 

He is the reason why Yuuji is becoming… twisted by Sukuna’s evil. He is the reason why Yuuji has the matter of a curse in his stomach, on his hands. He ate a curse and it was Megumi’s fault. 

Yuuji’s sins are his.

Yuuji, the benevolent prince, is forced to sit on Sukuna’s malevolent throne.

And Sukuna, the malevolent king is now residing in Yuuji’s benevolent shrine.

It is all…it is all Megumi’s fault.

He made Yuuji this way, forced him onto a throne, forced him to lead a life he was never meant to live.

And even though Yuuji is in this position of power, never has he ever made his own decisions regarding his life. 

Elders who are too prideful to admit that they don’t know how to handle Sukuna force him to continue consuming his evil. Officials who are too cowardly to deal with problems on their own send their brightest children to do their darkest tasks. 

Yuuji is complacent to their jabbing hands. He is kneaded like dough in their rough hold, pushed and pulled by faces he’s never seen, voices he’s never heard.

He obeys. 

And Yuuji Itadori, who is broken and scared and shaken, is bent over himself on the grass, heaving into the ground.

Ironically, he is kneeling. Reverently, he bows in front of the one who had kicked him in his ribs and stabbed him in the side. To the one he obeys like a loyal dog. 

That is Megumi’s fault too.

Yuuji is probably just as, if not more frightened than Megumi was. And Megumi chose to disregard that and instead worry about his own grievances. 

Yuuji pounds the ground with his fist, bringing the other up to his face to cover his eyes as pain courses through his body. A wail tears out his throat, unable to be held back for much longer. 

Fuck.

Megumi drops down in front of him, grasping Yuuji’s shoulders and squeezing, “Itadori, Itadori! Calm down…Breathe!”

Yuuji shakes his head. Then, his hands are suddenly moving: one pushing Megumi to the side, and the other shoving his fingers down his throat. Megumi cries out as Yuuji’s strength sends him nearly through a tree, momentarily immobilizing him. When he lands, he can do nothing but watch yellow and brown vomit come out around the latter’s fingers. 

“ ITADORI! ” Megumi yells, struggling to get back over to Yuuji, who pushes his fingers back into his mouth again, choking on them. “ Stop !”

Yuuji coughs raggedly, bile burning his throat, mouth, and tongue. He coughs so much that he is soon throwing up blood, stained black with the blood from the curse he had eaten.

“Itadori, please—!” Megumi pleads, finally making it over and grabbing Yuuji’s wrists tightly. 

“Fushiguro— FUSHIGURO, you have to get out of here,” Yuuji’s voice is raw, his hands moving to push against Megumi’s arms, his strength nearly gone. “ He! He– Sukuna’s coming. Please, leave! Please, get out of here! ”

“NO!” 

“You HAVE TO! ”

“ I CAN’T! ”

“YOU CAN! Just call—call Nue to fly you back to Ijichi. The curtain…is already down! PLEASE!”

Megumi doesn’t dare leave, moving his shaking hands up to clasp Yuuji’s fingers in his, interlocking them. His grip forcefully steadies both their shakiness, clutching so hard it begins to hurt. Then, in the shivering silence between them, he brings a pair of their conjoined hands up to his chest, right against his heart. 

He steadies his breathing, feeling his heart beat rapidly through his uniform. “...No.”

Again, it is silent between them. Yuuji’s eyes are wide with a feeling that is indescribable to them both. Admiration? Gratefulness? Relief?

His gaze settles on Megumi’s chest, freezing at the image of his hand in Megumi’s.

The gunk…the gunk is getting on Megumi’s uniform. 

The curse…the curse is on Megumi’s skin.

Yuuji’s sins…they’re staining Megumi’s hands. 

And he feels whatever walls he had put up for himself crumble and shatter, brutally reminded of what he had done. 

Yuuji snarls, dashing forward to push Megumi down into the grass, one of his hands at his throat. “ You’re making this so much easier for me, Megumi,” Sukuna’s voice is so loud. So, so, so loud in his ears. It blinds him, paralyzes him, numbs him. Megumi nearly loses consciousness. 

“STOP! ” Yuuji yells, silencing Sukuna’s voice long enough to let Megumi get back to his senses. Sukuna hasn’t taken over Yuuji’s body, but his mouth is open on both of Yuuji’s cheeks, his voice echoing sardonically in the clearing.  

Wet tears flow from Yuuji’s eyes as he uses his other hand to pull at the wrist on Megumi’s throat, “LET GO! ” Underneath him, Megumi doesn't struggle, staring up at him with bloodshot eyes, a blank expression on his face as if he was a corpse.

Sukuna disappears from Yuuji’s cheeks; his actual presence seems to remain though, as something he says to Yuuji in their shared headspace turns his expression into one of horror. The latter jumps back like he had been burned, staring down at his wrist as he screams. 

Megumi coughs into the grass, his vision spotting, his brain shutting down. 

There is so much discord in both the real world and the world in his head that he decides to just shut down, keeling over himself and passing out. 

Always the logical one. His mind knew what he could take. And…

He wouldn’t be able to handle anything more than this.

Are you telling me to? I always knew you were humorous, brat, but I didn’t know you were this funny! How can you be yelling at me when it’s your hand that’s doing the deed?

Sukuna is right. Sukuna is right.

When he looks down at his arm, slightly covered by his opposing hand, he realizes that there are no black tattoos. 

There are no black cuffs on his wrist. 

And worst of all…

What’s even the problem? Don’t you realize you’re not hungry anymore?

Yuuji can do nothing but scream.

That night, Yuuji Itadori wakes up, startled. Again, he makes a racket: kicking his wall, turning on his lights to check his arms, the sort. 

And Megumi Fushiguro, who is unable to sleep in the next room, awoken by nausea-induced vomiting and acute vertigo, stays in his bed. In fact, he tightens the blankets around himself, burying himself under his pillow as his mouth melds into a grimace. 

Without a hitch. The mission ends without a hitch.

“It’s just as I said: I passed out after the curse choked me. Itadori was thankfully close by and was able to take it out after he took out the other.”

Nanami, Satoru, and Ijichi all are present for his report. Ijichi clutches the piece of paper Megumi had given him in shaking hands, the other two looking at the first year with mildly concerned looks. 

“And that’s reeeally all that happened?” Satoru eggs on, simply just trying to annoy his beloved student now. 

Megumi ignores him, not even responding with his usual anger or frustration, “Are we done now?”

Nanami places a resistant hand on Satoru’s arm as he instinctively feels another round of Are you suuuure? questions approaching. Then, he nods at Megumi, glancing at his gaunt features, “You may go. We apologize for keeping you from breakfast.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Megumi answers, another meaning behind his muttered words. 

He takes his leave briskly, closing the door quietly behind him. 

“Ijichi-san, can you leave me and Gojou-senpai for just a moment?” Nanami adjusts his glasses on his face, surprising the other two with his question.

Ijichi quickly nods, tucking the report away in his folder and bowing, “Of course, of course!” After bowing even deeper, he continues, “And I offer my sincerest regrets that I was unable to take care of the students!” His words are relevant enough to both his superiors, but they are mostly aimed at the one he had done a supposed ‘favor’ for. 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Nanami responds, unable to provide any words of consolation that wouldn’t sound like either an accusation or an insult. 

After Ijichi exits, Satoru turns to Nanami with a skeptical, yet curious look on his face, “What did you want to discuss in private, Nana- kouhai ?”

The younger one shoots him a glare, but quickly realizes his earlier mistake of giving his superior any sort of respect in the first place. 

“You can’t keep getting away with this.”

“Oh? With what?” Satoru challenges, a brazen grin broadening on his face.  

“Treating him like Getou-senpai.”

Satoru’s lips snap shut, mirth disappearing so fast it leaves his cheek twitching slightly. His anger boils in his stomach, unbridled and evident in his tone, “What the fuck does that mean?”

Nanami doesn’t specify which student he is talking about. Satoru is offended, regardless.

“Training him like mad, pushing him into all these dangerous situations…do you think I haven’t realized what you’re doing?”

“ What am I doing, Nanami?” 

“You’re trying to make him into a second you…into The Strongest. Because Getou-senpai couldn’t be The Strongest. And you don’t want Itadori-kun to have Getou’s weak constitution. You’re forcing him into a role you know he can’t fill. You’re forcing him to do things that you would never ask of your other students. Itadori-kun is not Getou, Satoru. ”

“YOU SHUT UP ABOUT HIM!” Satoru roars, throwing his fist to the left, the wall caving in under an invisible pressure no one could see. “Take his name out of your mouth, Kento. Don’t think that just because you don’t respect me I’m okay with you disrespecting the dead.”

Nanami stares him down, unrelenting and unwilling to take back what he said, “Just because you refuse to accept the truth, doesn’t make it any less true.”

Satoru stalks forward, his glare peeking over the frames of his glasses, “Really? Just because you’ve spoken a truth, doesn’t mean it’s a whole one. If Yuuji is my Suguru, then isn’t he your Haibara? Huh?”

At that, Nanami takes a step back, physically pushed and gutted by Satoru’s claim, “...What?”

Satoru scoffs, so close to Nanami that the latter could feel the absence of Infinity, “ You heard me . Yuuji is your Yu, isn’t he? The kid you couldn’t save? The kid you took for granted? Don’t you want him to be strong? Don’t you want him to stay alive? Don’t you want him to be stronger than YOU? You who couldn’t save Haibara in that mission all those years ago?”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP, SATORU!” 

“NOW LOOK WHO’S GETTING MAD!”

They both stand there, heavily breathing into each other’s faces. 

They’re angry at each other, angry at themselves, angry at the world and the roles it forced them to play. Angry about what could’ve been and what they were trying to make happen. Angry that they couldn’t be stronger, that even though they’d gotten a second chance, they were so close to fucking it all up all over again. Angry that in the end, they’re just externalizing and projecting. Onto each other, onto themselves, onto the world…onto Yuuji.

The kid.

“I said some really harsh words,” Nanami straightens himself out, blinking rapidly as he tightens his tie. He’s feeling more regret for Yuuji Itadori than he does for Satoru Gojou.

“I did too,” Satoru acknowledges, stepping back to give the other man some space, his Infinity immediately going back up. 

It isn’t an apology. They both meant what they said. Though they could’ve put it in kinder terms, or even had a more civilized talk about it, they both know that would never happen.

Between them, there would always be a layer of disrespect and dismissal. 

Satoru is too childish and flamboyant. Nanami is too uptight and always right.

The audacity of that guy. They both think. 

“It isn’t my place to scold, as I’m not a teacher myself. But just be more mindful of what you get your students into,” Nanami clears his throat, already turning away.

“You’re right, it isn’t your place.”

“I’ve spoken a whole truth and you’ve taken it as a half. How utterly Satoru of you.”

“And you keep talking to me like I’m a child. How utterly Nanami of you,” Satoru pushes his glasses up his face, his usual smirk playing on his lips again. It drops slightly, “...But yeah, I’ll think about it.”

“As will I,” Nanami nods, not needing to clarify what he meant.

In the end, even though the two had exchanged a lot of words, there were a few left unsaid. Satoru could never really learn to hold back, but Nanami…

Itadori-kun isn’t Getou-senpai. He won’t succumb to the evil within him. 

And you would never kill him with your own hands. 

I see what you’re doing. You’re training him to be able to fight you if that ever happens again.

Be careful, Satoru. There are still people left who care about you, unlike me.

Wrecked by their conversation with each other, both Satoru and Nanami find solace in their students.

Satoru is drawn to Megumi, who looks actually ill, and Nanami is drawn to Yuuji, who has been locked in his room since the mission last night. 

They both have nearly the exact same conversation with starkly contrasting results. 

Satoru’s conversation ends as quickly as it starts. 

“Megumi-chan!”

“What?”

“Are you alright? You don’t look—”

“I’m exhausted. Leave me alone.”

While Nanami’s conversation reflects his deep concern for the matter. 

“Itadori-kun? Hello?” 

“Oh, Nanamin…” Yuuji slowly opens the door, still in his pajamas. 

“May I come in?”

Yuuji scratches the back of his head, “Uh, I guess.”

Nanami looks extremely out of place in Yuuji’s high school bachelor pad. If Yuuji was in the mood, he would laugh. 

The older man settles on a deskless desk chair in the corner of the room, while Yuuji sits on his bed, too tense to find a comfortable position. Was he in trouble? Did…Did Nanamin find out…about…about…

“You can relax, Itadori, I just came to ask how you were feeling. Both you and your classmate look…disheveled.”

Yuuji does relax. He can lie, then. Nanami doesn’t know anything, and he’s sure Megumi has given the adults a report that’s free of what had really happened. He can lie, he can lie, he can lie, he ca—

“Yeah, I’m good! Just tired!” Yuuji’s mouth smiles, but his eyes don’t. 

After a bit of silence, Nanami jumps the gun, getting straight to what he wanted to discuss. “Itadori-kun, I believe we’ve known each other for a bit now,” Nanami says rather than asks. Yuuji answers anyway, “Yeah! We have.”

“Yes, since that mission regarding that boy Junpei Yoshino. I would even say we’re well acquainted at this point.”

Yuuji shifts uncomfortably at the mention of the lost soul he could never forget. His leg bounces nervously, What is he getting at?

Nanami continues without waiting for a response, “So I would say we are both quite familiar with each other. That includes our fighting style and our techniques. And most importantly, our behaviors.”

Yuuji feels a sheet of dread slowly billow around him, falling across his shoulders. He grips his knees with his hands, his knuckles turning white, “...And…you mean?...”

“I mean that I’ve seen you at a rather low point in your life. I know how you look when you’re sad. When you are fighting something within. When you are defeated by that something. Forgive me, but I find that I don’t believe you in the slightest when you say you’re alright,” Nanami leans forward, almost as if he could physically corner Yuuji into answering him. “I believe we’re at a point in our relationship where you can trust me. I also believe it is unnecessary for us to lie to each other.”

His words are sending chills all over Yuuji’s body. Down his spine, across his arms. Goosebumps gather on his skin as Nanami continues, his sharp kindness brutally forcing Yuuji into an honest answer. 

“So now, I am giving you a second chance. And this time, don’t lie to me, Itadori,” Nanami slowly stands, crossing the room until he crouches in front of Yuuji. He brings a steady, callused hand up to rest on Yuuji’s bouncing leg, stopping its anxious pattern. “Are you alright?”

Yuuji crumbles immediately, his face breaking, his walls shattering once again. They couldn’t recover from earlier anyway. 

“I’m… I’m… I’m not,” Yuuji struggles to get out, grasping his shirt, leaning forward to soothe the pain accumulating in his chest. 

Nanami nods, proven correct once again. Then, he assists in comforting the child, bringing his hand up to gently rest in Yuuji’s hair. 

“Tell me what happened.”

Yuuji Itadori would never breathe what happened to a single soul. He couldn’t lie about his state of being, but he absolutely had to lie about this.

“I did…I did something bad yesterday…I regret it so much. I don’t even know what got into me…I…It even made me do something bad to Fushiguro…and I just…wasn’t myself,” Yuuji blabbers, making sure to omit details that would cause festering worry in Nanami. “I just feel so…I didn’t feel human.” He lets slip.

“I understand,” Nanami lets it remain unspoken, standing so that he can sit at Yuuji’s side on the bed. If he tries to pry any more than he already was, he fears he might not be able to continue the conversation with Yuuji's full trust. Weird that he's worried about that though. It's not like he's Yuuji's mentor or teacher or something...

“It’s like…I couldn’t protect him. I know—I know it’s not my job to or my place to, but I feel like I have to.”

At that, Nanami’s heart pangs sharply. 

This is a little too much like…

“I don’t know why. Fushiguro is perfectly capable of defending himself. He’s stronger than me, smarter than me…And it's the same with Kugisaki. Hell, she could beat my ass, and she has. I just feel this stupid feeling even though I know they can do it themselves. I don’t know…I just…”

Nanami’s shoulder grows warm and tingly underneath a ghost touch, the heat making him uncomfortable quickly. 

It is the shoulder Haibara made his home on. Both in death and in life. In death, he remains Nanami’s compass, his angel on his shoulder, if you will.

In life, it was the shoulder Haibara would always hang off of. The shoulder he would grasp when he would try to scare the undeterrable Nanami, the shoulder he would sling his arm around when he was tired after training, the shoulder he would shake when he really wanted to stop at that sweet shop, please, can we stop at that sweet shop, Kento-kun? I promised I would bring Getou-senpai a treat! The shoulder he pulled as he walked into that sweet shop, that was definitely not a sweet shop, no, Yu, this is a bakery, you idiot, it just looked like a sweet shop. The shoulder he pushed when the curse came at them, shoving Nanami into safety, run, Kento, run, it’s too powerful, we can’t stop it, I need—

“I understand,” Nanami repeats, quieter. 

“...Do you?” Yuuji genuinely asks, bringing his voice down to match Nanami’s volume. 

“I do,” Nanami breathes in. “It is this… insatiable need. The need to protect another person is something that…you can’t really explain.”

And when you can’t do it…when you can’t protect them…

“It’s good that you have that feeling. It’s a normal feeling. Hold onto that…when you feel less human…That is not something Sukuna gives you. That is all you,” Nanami directly addresses the elephant in the room, unable to keep dancing around on eggshells any longer. Sukuna is what Yuuji is talking about. Sukuna did something and Yuuji couldn’t stop him. 

“It is?”

“Whatever infatuation Sukuna has with Fushiguro-kun has nothing to do with the feelings you have toward him. You care about him, right?”

Yuuji doesn’t hesitate, “I do.”

“Then don't let go of that. It’s human nature to want to protect those you love, regardless of their own capabilities.”

Maybe Yuuji is his second chance…His Haibara. Maybe he can say something, do something…

He doesn’t want to curse him any more than he already is. Doesn’t want to give Yuuji any more curses than he already has.

What do I say, Haibara? What is the right thing to say?

For now, a hand clamps down on his shoulder, squeezing in reassurance. 

You’ve done enough.

“Thank you for confiding in me, Itadori-kun.”

“You didn’t give me much of a choice, Nanamin,” Yuuji half jokes, his eyes glossy. 

For your own good.

“For good reason. You look like you haven’t slept. Have you even eaten today?”

Yuuji doesn’t respond.

“So, you haven’t,” Nanami lets out a quiet sigh before looking down at his watch. “It’s just about to be brunch hour anyway. Let’s go. I’ve got a place I like to go to, a bakery in the city…”

On the third day after the mission, Yuuji wakes up from another nightmare. It is loud, violent, bloody, and brutal. 

This time, Megumi throws off his covers and makes the journey to Yuuji’s room. 

His bare feet make nearly no noise on the wooden floor, but his heartbeat makes up for it. It swells in the hallway, setting the rhythm of all movement in its vicinity. 

Badum…badum…badum…

Megumi walks into Yuuji’s room, twisting the doorknob and opening the door. 

This mess he’s expected to clean is his alone. 

Yuuji Itadori is sprawled on his side, his back to the door, his hands in his hair, his knees up to his chest. 

Yuuji Itadori is fighting a one-sided battle with someone he cannot see, someone he cannot hit, someone he cannot win against. 

He is fighting with Ryomen Sukuna, the King of Curses. 

Megumi Fushiguro is his only ally in this battle. Yuuji Itadori is drawn to his soft light. To his safety. To his security. He feels his warmth as he enters the room.

Ryomen Sukuna feels Megumi Fushiguro too. But he feels all that is concealed by his warmth. 

Ryomen Sukuna feels his fear. 

He feasts on it. He bites on his tense limbs, kisses those shaking hands, licks along his bobbing Adam’s apple, relishing in his terror and dread. 

It’s delicious.

And Yuuji Itadori garnishes his meal, presents it, and hands it to him on a silver platter. At breakfast, at lunch, at dinner. 

It’s too good to be true. 

These two mortals are unaware they are serving the king with every move they make.

Sukuna doesn’t even need to say anything to sow the seeds of fear in them. Once the time is right, he makes a few pointed comments, asks a rhetorical question here, laughs menacingly over there, and soon his plants are blooming, the harvest plentiful and the fruit ripe. 

It’s too easy. 

When he first inhabited Yuuji’s body, he realized quickly that his previous reign of terror wouldn’t work here. Sukuna is smart. He rationalizes. He understands his place in this new world he’s in; he’s not a fool. 

And his place is on his throne, hidden from the mortal eye, looking down as his prey destroy themselves before he gets a chance to. 

He doesn’t even need to lift a finger.

Heh.

Of course, he has his own plans. But they would only work when the time was right. 

Sukuna is smart. He lies in wait, his pride and ego still very much intact despite his weaker state of being. 

Even though he wishes to be belligerent and loud, aggressive and violent, he realizes that he would be showing his hand to everyone too early. This silent but deadly tactic is working better than he could ever hope anyway.

So he doesn’t say anything at all when Yuuji asks him questions he could easily answer. He laughs at a few, drawing it out until he feels the brat’s body break out in hives. He might even use a little of the power he is storing until ‘the day’ to move Yuuji’s limbs or conceal his words as Yuuji’s thoughts. 

To properly dispose of it, I have to eat it.

It’s the only way…

Doesn’t that look delicious, though?

He plants a couple of memories as well, lets them bleed through until they stain Yuuji’s cloth. He doesn’t need them anyway. 

And these nightmares are so, so tantalizing. Really, he sits back and watches everything fall apart on its own. It’s like watching a card castle topple or hitting the first domino and watching the rest fall with it. 

“He’s heeere,” Sukuna drawls when Megumi opens the door. 

He feels Yuuji shiver, feels his body turn toward Megumi despite his unwillingness to get the other boy involved anymore. He just sits back…and watches the work being done for him.

Deep in Yuuji's benevolent shrine lies the malevolent throne they both share. Sukuna is willing to give him that much, a mere taste of the power he has had and will have very soon. 

Resisting will just delay what will already come to pass, Ryomen Sukuna whispers in Yuuji Itadori’s ear, his hands trailing against the latter’s shoulders. 

As he backs away from the throne, hiding in the shadows once more, he hums a few, baleful parting words:  

He’ll be all mine soon.