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Yuuji has enough.
Enough of cruel deaths, of bitter goodbyes, of the people he loves being taken away from him.
It’s too much pain to bear, to be broken again and again, and to be forced to live with it. Even when Yuuji thought there’s nothing left in him to be wrecked, the vicious circle manages to hit him back, hurling and tossing him into the bottomless pit of infinite tortures.
Life has no mercy; sometimes it tasted sweet, but Yuuji learns over the time that the good part’s often short-lived. The Jujutsu world is not for the fainthearts. He has seen more deaths in the minuscule of time, way more than the whole 15 years he has spent in earth.
Yuuji has to remind himself why he’s here, to honor his grandpa, to live and help the humanity.
Bullshit.
Yuuji can’t lie that sometimes during the night when he dozed off and woke up, with the horror movie still playing on the television, Fushiguro and Kugisaki under the blanket snuggled sleepily against his sides; he wanted for everything to stop. Yuuji doesn’t want to think about the world, he just wants this to last. He wished, really wished, to live a peaceful life, a happy life with his friends and his teachers forever.
He knows it’s impossible. His time is short, their time is short. Every day feels like a guessing game, they won’t know how things will play out, and how would any turns of event can strike them back like a whiplash.
Why does it have to be this way?
Yuuji constantly wonders.
It’s like he’s got his hand grasping on a fist of sand. The more he holds on, the more people he cherishes slip past his fingers.
Yuuji has been stabbed, slashed, and practically destroyed through and through. He has bled bone-dry in agonizing cycle of losing and hurting, again and again. Be it his grandfather, Junpei, Nanamin, Kugisaki, and now…
Yuuji just won’t forgive himself if he loses Fushiguro too.
Maybe he’s growing selfish, clinging to this life a bit too much, but Yuuji has every reason to hang on it.
He won’t forget that time when Gojo-sensei brought them to eat fancy sushi, or when a girl asked Fushiguro for direction and they mistook it as flirting then continued to defend his dignity. Yuuji recalls e spar, mission, and hours-long class he spent at Jujutsu Tech.
The memories are woven in his brain; the super fun baseball game, the never-ending saga between him, Gojo-sensei, and Nanamin, even that time when they hid Gojo-sensei’s shirt that costed 25,000 yen in Fushiguro’s chest. All too clear in his mind.
He has never felt happier before. And he’ll do his best to treasure what he has now.
So, Sukuna can go fuck his incarnation plan.
A pathetic, soul-eating curse like him is nothing but a lonely man, who doesn’t have anyone by his side. He could never understand the true joy that comes with genuine relationships. He’s always striving for the top of the world, obsessing on ruling the system. It’s simply crazy how there’s never been enough chaos for Sukuna.
Yuuji’s mind is pretty much blank after so much happened in front of his eyes.
In a mere sixty seconds, Sukuna cunningly enchained him, concentrating his soul in Yuuji’s pinky and tear it off, coercing a faltered Megumi to swallow the finger. It’s a lot to process, with his brain throbbing and visions blurry.
It must be so funny for him, effortlessly outsmarting them while their soul shatter.
We’ll see something interesting, he said.
Like hell Sukuna can break and play with Fushiguro like that when Yuuji is still here. He won’t let anyone mess him up, not even a King of Curses; especially a King of Curses.
Yet, after being punched square in the guts, and thrown over blocks and blocks of building; the deep-seated hatred he has for Sukuna is only getting stronger.
Yuuji can’t think of anything; the sight of Sukuna possessing his friend fucks up with his head, it’s just so unnerving. This shouldn’t be happening. He ought to protect Fushiguro.
Start by saving me, Itadori.
Fushiguro.
Save Fushiguro.
The name chants inside his ears like a mantra. Yuuji goes straight to jump, exerting every single muscle in his whole body to reach out the tall building where Sukuna stands. He hardly recognizes the concrete crumbles under his feet, ignoring how such thing isn’t humanely possible.
He’s hyper fixated on Sukuna.
Yuuji pounces on him, roughly gripping on his neck, Sukuna’s neck; Fushiguro doesn’t have that layers of taut, stubborn muscles. It’s not his friend’s.
His body slams against the floor. His bone should be breaking, he shouldn’t be able to keep going and sprinting, nor kicking a huge boulder at Sukuna; but somehow Yuuji does. His hand grabs and hauls on anything he could use to beat him up. The curse fights back, blowing his chin off until he bleeds.
Yuuji doesn’t care. It’s nothing compared to the gnawing heartache Sukuna continuously giving him.
He grits through his teeth, “Leave Fushiguro alone.”
“Miss him already, brat? Hasn’t even been an hour, you guys are so lovesick.” Sukuna coos mockingly, “What about you, Fushiguro Megumi? You miss him too?” He tips his head to the side, then shrugs nonchalantly, “Too bad it’s my time to shine.”
Yuuji gasps as Sukuna’s curse energy cuts his shoulder. He has seen this, Sukuna massacred whole Shibuya by the technique alone, in his own body.
The dark hot rage consumes him, veins thrumming with pure fury. His body tightens, jaw clenches as rigid as a rock. Yuuji hysterically screams, “Fuck off, Sukuna. Fuck you! Why can’t you stop bringing people to suffer?”
He snorts, “Because I can. The fact that you get so frustrated, it’s because you are totally useless against me. The worst part is: you can’t do anything to change it, can you? You can’t put me to stop.”
“You know what?” Yuuji breaths are getting rushed, shallow and harsh, his anger multiplies with each sharp puff of air. “I have been broken enough. Try it. Try to break me.”
Sukuna stretches out his arms, longer and leaner than the brat’s but still works just fine; his bloodthirsty eyes dilates in euphoria.
“Cleave.”
The curse smirks, more slashes slit on Yuuji’s flesh, bathing him in crimson splatters and strong iron stench. The boy still stands despite the slash, eyes maniacally wide.
It hurts, it fucking stings and burns; but Yuuji has suffered a lot more than a handful slices. There’s no kind of pain he won’t go through for his comrades, for Fushiguro. He’d do anything if that means he gets to spend more time with him, to protect him, to keep from any harm.
Yuuji would rather be dead than giving up on Fushiguro.
Fushiguro who picked him up after he’s all alone in the world, who risked his life and rebelled the rule to keep Yuuji alive. Fushiguro who gave him a new home here.
His steps getting firmer, faster; he stomps on the ground as he gets close to Sukuna.
Sukuna frowns.
It usually doesn’t take a lot to dismantle a human, but one single swoop. There must be something wrong. His hand trembles, Fushiguro Megumi’s hand; it goes limp as Sukuna’s curse energy slowly getting obstructed. The brat seizes this moment to land a solid jab on his cheek.
“What the fuck, Fushiguro Megumi?” Sukuna hisses, “You bastard.”
Yuuji’s breath hitches, the dark veil in his eyes melts into molten gold.
Fushiguro.
Fushiguro is still there, he must be resisting Sukuna. His eyes start to sting, seeing a glimpse of Fushiguro’s resting face despite Sukuna’s grim scowl.
“I’ll keep you safe.” A ragged breath leaves Yuuji’s cold, bloodied lips, “We’ll keep each other safe.”
The inky black markings fade gradually. Sukuna’s scarlet eyes roll back, shifting into a bleak emerald behind Fushiguro’s fluttering eyelids. His lanky body staggers, almost hitting the ground has Yuuji not lunges forward to support him.
“Fushiguro!”
The black-haired boy doesn’t respond. For a second, Yuuji feels his stomach drops and twists in ugliest way possible. He haphazardly put his hands on him, checking on his temperature, looking for the weak pulses on his wrist and his jugular, the slight rise and fall of his pale chest.
Fushiguro is alive, at least.
The tears finally spill from his eyes. Yuuji leans down to hug him, shoving his face on the crook of his friend’s neck. His scent is buried under the heavy tinge of rust, Yuuji recognize it; a soft whiff beneath the saltiness on his skin, the smell akin to Fushiguro’s room, his pillow, his laundry.
“Fushiguro. Fushiguro.”
Yuuji mourns, wailing the name tirelessly. His throat is getting sore and irritated. It’s getting harder to breathe, his airways' constricted, head aching with high-tension pressure.
“I’m sorry.” Fushiguro whispers, his voice hoarse, almost inaudible, and eyes barely open.
Yuuji chokes on his cry, shaking his head vigorously. “No. No, Fushiguro. I’m sorry.”
“I know you’ll save me.” A faint smile stretches on Fushiguro’s chapped lips. He brings up his hand to rest on Yuuji’s back, “But Sukuna could've had you. Please, don't die, Itadori.”
The tip of Fushiguro’s nose and his lips, icy-cold, grazes against his cheek. Yuuji and his whole-body shudders at the innocent touch, hot air puffing from his gaping mouth.
He reaches for his face, cradles him with both of his bloodstained hands, and presses a kiss flat on the exposed forehead.
“I won’t. I won’t leave you.”
He pecks his forehead again out of desperation. This time, Fushiguro pulls his face with a delicate touch of his bluish fingers, taking the initiative to seal a kiss on his mouth. It’s chaste and heartbreakingly sweet; not the kind of kiss Yuuji imagines before, not with the insane amount of blood, nor the bruises and cuts they have all over their body.
“I love you.” Fushiguro breathes.
Yuuji frantically removes his clothing, wrings it out of his blood, and put it on Megumi. It’s blood-soaked, but his brain lacks the capacity to think of any other way to keep Fushiguro warm. “I love you. I love you too, Fushiguro.”
He engulfs Fushiguro in an embrace, stroking his back up and down to create some heat. “My body usually gets chills after Sukuna takes hold; but my god, Fushiguro, you are freezing.”
Yuuji rubs his shoulders, his arms, and his hands. He slots his fingers between the gap, sticking their palm and squeezing them together, peppering kisses on both of his knuckles. “Stay with me, Fushiguro.”
“Mm.” He mumbles. “I will.”