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Where is he? Yuuji thinks. He was supposed to be here.
Takaba looks down at the burnt grass, cocking his head at it. Behind him, Inumaki-senpai almost snorts at him, but manages to be polite. “Ya see this? Kid, isn't he supposed to—”
Tuning Takaba out is easy. Yuuji sinks to his knees. What will Gojo-sensei say to him after this? Alone, Yuuji will have to tell him about Nanamin and Kugisaki, if Yuuji lives long enough to see Gojo-sensei again.
And Fushiguro.
Yuuji sinks his knuckles into the fabric of his pants, grabbing and pulling and tearing in frustration. His head is clearer now, and when Yuuji’s fingertips skim his cheek, the eye-slits are gone. Realistically, Yuuji should be happy about this, because all he's ever done is complain that he's tethered to Sukuna, and vice versa on Sukuna’s part. There is no one in the world Yuuji hates more than Sukuna, and it's the type of hatred Yuuji drags from the darkest parts of his gut, covered in blood and memories of dead friends.
Sukuna only tolerated Yuuji because Sukuna and him were almost a weird version of a symbiotic relationship. Yuuji prefers parasitic , but in a way, Yuuji did benefit from his presence. Sukuna only benefited because he had a host body that was capable of holding him. The problem for him was that Yuuji could easily suppress him, and Yuuji’s body was more of a cage than a vessel. And they had innate dislike towards each other.
Now, Sukuna doesn't need him at all. There's a reason Sukuna didn't care to kill him— it was either because Sukuna figured Yuuji wouldn't be a problem in the future, or that he'd have the pleasure of killing Yuuji in Fushiguro’s body.
But—Yuuji would do anything to have Sukuna back in his head, far away from Fushiguro. But now Fushiguro is in trouble and it's only so long until Sukuna finds a way to tie himself to Fushiguro’s body. Stupid, stupid! Why didn't you think about yourself in that Binding Vow?
God, Yuuji misses Sensei. Although he was air-headed, and almost delusional, he somehow found a way to make Yuuji feel safer around him.
A hand lands on his shoulder. Okkotsu kneels next to him, and his expression is knowing. He's always been strangely good at reading emotions. “Itadori,” he says.
“I’m fine,” Yuuji grumbles, and shifts so he sits cross-legged in the grass.
Okkotsu’s eyes glint, black as coal, although empathetic. “You miss Fushiguro. He'll be okay.”
“He's never had Sukuna before,” Yuuji says—without even thinking. “He's never—”
Okkotsu raises an eyebrow, resting his forearms to hang limply off his knees. “You assume Fushiguro can't handle Sukuna? He's very strong, you know.”
His senpai’s statement makes him go quiet. “Of course I know Fushiguro is strong,” Yuuji mumbles. “I’m just worried.”
There's so much that could be happening. Tsumiki is in trouble, and Fushiguro is possessed— and Yuuji knows damn well how it feels to backseat in your own head. Whenever Sukuna took over, it was like he'd been shoved to the passenger seat, unable to unbuckle the driver next to him. All he could do was wait it out and watch what happened like his eyes were simply windows to the world outside.
Fushiguro could be going through the same. Sitting back, helpless, as you watch Sukuna murder the people you love.
“Stand up,” Okkotsu holds out his hand. “You'll be okay, Yuuji.”
Gojo plants his foot on Sukuna’s sternum. “You're seriously twisted, dude. Like, do you have anything better to do than possess teenagers? Is that a hobby? Your hobbies are lame.”
How long has it been since Gojo got box'd? What, almost three weeks? You'd think the world simply can't function without him.
“My god,” Sukuna grits, and it's impressive how he wills himself through the crossed gashes on his hands. “Please shut the fuck up.”
Gojo leans down, up close and personal, and grins. “I told you I’d win.”
Kenjaku lies on the floor, nothing if not a bloody corpse. It is hard to look him in the eyes. Six Eyes won't shut up, Geto Suguru, it mutters, Suguru, what is he doing here, and Gojo snaps at it and it goes into comatose.
Suguru died by Gojo’s own guilty hands. He can repeat this again.
Sukuna, the snake, worms his way out under Gojo’s boot and stands before him.
“Don't change too much, Megumi,” Gojo warns. “Don't let him do it to you."
“This brat can't hear you,” Sukuna snorts. “Itadori at least was subconsciously paying attention, but Fushiguro is sunk to the bottom of his own personal abyss. Dormant. Good luck with that. You wanna see his sister’s corpse?”
Tsumiki, Gojo recognizes. He almost stutters in his steps. Oh, Megumi. “No, thanks. But I’m tired of hearing you talk.”
Tsumiki was probably one of the only things Megumi still loved in the world. Megumi is seven, and glassy-eyed, he tells Satoru he doesn't care what happened to his father, his mother. But my sister, the boy says. But my sister.
She was a very kind girl.
Satoru’s students’ arrival was to be expected, but Gojo is still surprised.
The curse’s kimono blows in the Tokyo wind. He wipes the blood off his fingers, and Sukuna blinks, then grins, “Oh, that brat is back.”
Gojo perks up.
Sukuna cracks his knuckles, but his face scrunches up. If Gojo had to guess, he figures Megumi is still in there somewhere. Now, Gojo is still trying to catch himself back up to speed—but from Sukuna’s gloating, he does know Sukuna fought Maki and Yuuji earlier; Gojo has the utmost faith they are okay.
Something else Gojo assumes is that Megumi is fighting Sukuna back in his head, dimming Sukuna’s cursed energy, because otherwise he would've murdered Gojo’s students hours earlier. At least, if he was trying to.
Megumi hasn't been able to do that for Gojo, but that's because the kid has gone dormant, so Sukuna says. Most likely a cause of a heavy damage to his psyche from Tsumiki, but if Megumi will wake up for anyone, specifically to protect them from Sukuna, it'll be Yuuji.
—Gojo’s head snaps to the direction of Sukuna’s gaze so fast his head probably flies off his shoulders.
Yuuji—it feels weird to see him without the slits underneath his eyes— heaves, glaring at Sukuna, and wastes no time to instantly dive for him, cursed energy pouring off of him in waves. Gojo grins, like one of those big, stupid grins Shoko makes fun of him for. You've gotten so strong.
Gojo jumps forward, and snatches Yuuji by the hood of his uniform, and warps them at least a few yards away from the curse.
The boy blinks wildly, turning to him and his brown eyes go big , but Gojo speaks before he can, “Rip his finger off and eat it.”
And Gojo can see it, the way Yuuji’s jaw drops, but he instantly straightens and nods curtly. Like a record player, spinning like a top in his own mind, Yuuji replays his own words: To kill him, I’ll eat anything.
Yuuji charges. Sukuna smirks, bloodthirsty.
They meet like angry bulls, their horns clashing. Sukuna sidesteps an energy-infused punch from Yuuji, then grabbing Yuuji by the neck and body slamming him into the ground. The boy scrambles to his feet, blood gushing from the gashes on his cheeks.
“I can never get rid of you,” Sukuna snaps, swiping a leg to the back of Yuuji’s knees, “You are a parasite. You won't even do yourself any good and let yourself die.”
“Let him go,” Yuuji growls, encompassed by ire. “ Give him back!”
Sukuna tries to charge up a cursed-punch, but falters, and makes a vague noise of rage, “Damn you, Fushiguro,” and Yuuji sees this as a good time to try and go for it.
Yuuji reaches for Sukuna, startled by the loss of his cursed energy, grabbing his wrist and rips off the entirety of his index finger, from the knuckle to the fingertip. Blood gushed into the dirt, onto Sukuna’s clothes— and Sukuna’s eyes widen, his face going white in a panic, furiously reaching to stop Yuuji—
Yuuji, without a single remaining thought, shoves the finger in his mouth, clamps a hand over his lips, and swallows.
Satoru grins. You got him.
Megumi’s finger instantly regenerates, probably Sukuna’s subconscious doing, but Sukuna rages. He doesn't even get very long to do so, his mouth distorting Megumi’s face as he screams in anger, boiling like a hotpot, before his eyes dim, slumping over, and Gojo warps over to grab him before he tumbles to the ground.
Yuuji’s face is shadowed, facing the ground, shoulders twitching. When he looks back up, he has no marks, but the slits have returned, and Sukuna has returned back to Yuuji’s head.
“Good job!” Gojo praises, Fushiguro limp in his arms, and Satoru pops a thumbs up. “Me and him have been fighting for a while, and you came in and—”
The boy darts forward without a word, and wraps his arms around Gojo’s torso. His face pressed into the crook of Fushiguro’s neck.
“Ah,” Gojo laughs a little. He removes a hand off of Megumi and ruffles Yuuji’s hair. “Hey, I missed you too.”
Yuuji’s arms tighten.
A moment passes. Yuuji’s breath is stuttering, and Gojo goes mellow, “Hey, hey, Yuuji, it's oka—”
Fushiguro sleepily opens an eye, “Hhn?”
“ Fushiguro,” Yuuji says, and Gojo almost catches the red in his eyes, the leftover tears, before Yuuji plants his hands on Fushiguro’s shoulders, shaking him, “Oh my god, Fushiguro, I,”
The shadow-technique user blinks, still trying to adapt to his surroundings, before he slowly comes to his senses, grabbing Yuuji’s offered hand. Gojo catches the waver in his voice when he breathes, “Itadori,” and he knows Yuuji caught it too.
Yuuji pauses. Then his lip wobbles, and he gives up, immediately wrapping his arms around Fushiguro’s waist and dragging him into a tight hug, digging his chin into the other’s neck. Fushiguro accepts it gratefully. His hand sinks into the pink of Yuuji’s hair, shoulders trembling.
“That sucked,” Megumi says, and his voice cracks. “It sucked. I don't know how you deal with him.”
“Don't do that ever again,” Yuuji says, and laughs through tears, “I like Sukuna a lot better when he's stuck with me.”
Sukuna mutters bitterly in his ear.
“Itadori,” Megumi wobbles, “Yuuji, Tsumiki,”
Yuuji runs his fingers through his hair, “I know. I know. I’m sorry, Fushiguro."
They gently rock as one. Gojo averts his eyes as they mumble little things to each other, I’m sorry, I didn't mean to, Are you okay, I’m sorry, Please never do that ever again.
After a while, they just lean on each other, breathing quietly. Yuuji presses their foreheads together, closing his eyes.
“Hm,” Gojo says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Where is Nobara?”
He knows it is a terrible question even as he finishes it. And, normally Gojo is known for having no tact, or any self-awareness at all—but even his Six Eyes can understand loss. Satoru knows this in Suguru. His soul is a cobweb of misfortune.
Yuuji freezes in Megumi’s arms. Gojo can see grief in the lines of Megumi’s shoulders.
Gojo swallows. “Oh,” he mumbles, and places a heavy hand on the back of Megumi’s neck, the other circling around Yuuji. “I see.”
Shoko actually hugs him when she sees him. Okkotsu grins at him, then makes a beeline for Yuuji. Gojo doesn't even recognize Maki at first. Nanami is nowhere to be found.
Gojo asks Yuuji about this, too. His student’s fists clench, turning his eyes to the floor. But Gojo sees his shoulders shake.
Megumi and Yuuji are inseparable nowadays. Not that they weren't before Shibuya, but it's much more noticeable. Majority of the time, they share a bed at the dorms and the only times they don’t is when one of them has been dragged on an exorcism.
Gojo has lots of photos of them sleeping on top of each other on the couch in the common room. Blackmail.
(The worst part about these kids coming straight out of a war is that they are very buried in their grief. Megumi will never see Tsumiki again, and Yuuji will never see Nanami again, and the two of them will never hang out with Nobara again. Gojo missed all of this while he was in the Prison Realm, locked away as those kids lost, and lost, and lost.)
Something Satoru didn't expect is how much they cling to him as well.
He’ll be awake real early in the night, sipping coffee while he tries to do Gojo clan work, and Yuuji will stumble out of bed with shaky hands, Megumi following suit. The boys stop in their tracks when they see Gojo.
Gojo snorts. Then he motions to the spot next to him.
When Gojo wakes up in the morning, he had fallen asleep with his head cocked back against the couch, Yuuji’s head is on his shoulder, with Megumi pillowed up against Yuuji’s chest, Yuuji’s arm curled around him.
Realistically, he's not moving anytime soon. That's fine.
He kinda missed them, too.