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The brat had succumbed to a deep sleep after his last mission, curled up and drifting peacefully at Sukuna’s feet. It was a strange sight to behold; a child dozing in a fetal position in the innate domain of a demon, encompassed by images of death yet tranquil nonetheless. Sukuna supposed it couldn’t be helped; in the months Yuuji had harbored his soul, Sukuna had grown intimately familiar with the boy’s lack of fear when it came to his own mortality. It wasn’t as though he wanted to die, even Sukuna could admit his puny little vessel wasn’t that weak, just that he possessed no apprehension towards the subject.
So long as he died surrounded by loved ones— surrounded by those he’d saved— Yuuji could pass on without regrets.
Foolish, insolent worm .
Sukuna shifted where he stood above his vessel, submerging the urge to kick the aforementioned worm. He needed the brat asleep for what he wanted to do.
The cursed spirit Mahito— the newborn, in Sukuna’s eyes— had broken Yuuji down to his very limits, so much so the boy had cried out for Sukuna, begging and clawing at the edges of his soul for the devil’s power. It was an amusing sight for sure, one Sukuna thought to drag out; Yuuji was so terribly boring, it would be a miracle to squeeze some sort of entertainment out of him. Regardless, the newborn’s technique revolved around souls, and as it were Sukuna was fairly fond of his. So, the curse had to be dealt with— new as he was, he still needed to understand the inferiority he held in comparison to the King of Curses. But not before Yuuji had broken down at the loss of his playmate— Junpei, or some equivalent. His little temper tantrum had extinguished all the fire within him, and it made for an excellent chance for Sukuna to strike.
Before the brat had sunk into a full comatose, when exhaustion was nipping at his toes and his mind barely conscious, Sukuna had reinstated their binding vow. Yuuji ceded control of the body to Sukuna for thirty minutes, and during that period Sukuna would be unable to harm or attack another living thing. Though, he was sure Yuuji had only agreed to speak the incantation of their vow due to how exhausted he was. Despite the fact Sukuna had no physical ability to destroy anything when he was in this state, the brat was at least smart enough to know that wasn’t the only way things could be damaged. But, as it were, his vessel’s soul was weakened and in a recuperating state, unable to properly fight back against Sukuna’s will.
So, Sukuna pounced on the opportunity.
He didn’t have much in mind for Jujustu Tech— he would be perfectly content to watch it all burn, if it came down to that— but perhaps it was a growing restlessness at being forcibly suppressed by a 15 year-old that brought him to such an urge . Of all the creatures in the world, all the diverse and varied flavors of human, Sukuna had no doubt in his mind it was Yuuji’s which tasted the worst.
But that was neither here nor there.
As of currently, the brat was far removed, and Sukuna alone navigated the halls of Jujustu Tech. From Yuuji’s memories, he had a pretty good idea of the space, but there were always gaps that needed to be filled. Unlike Sukuna, the brat had little interest in snooping around. Nor did he have any interest in testing just how sturdy this age’s barriers truly were.
Presently, Sukuna exited Yuuji’s dorm and began to head down the hall. He hesitated at the door of the Zen’in prodigy’s dorm, curiosity stirring within his ribs. A Ten Shadows user , how curious.
Especially, with that particular spirit of his— Mahoraga. When that beast was finally set free, unleashed by a master strong enough to corral it, the calamity would be unlike the world had seen. Sukuna’s face split into a grin. Oceans of blood and gore, the world a ripe, congealing fruit for him alone to sink his fangs into. Now, if only it was he who had swallowed his finger, not this damned brat.
Your nephew, some voice in the back of his mind whispered, the connection they unwillingly shared flowing through him as easily as water through a net.
Irrelevant.
His smirk faded as he sighed and forced himself onward. Megumi was for another time, a plan Sukuna had been sculpting in his brain since he’d first laid eyes on the boy. But not now, not when Sukuna was still at a third of his true power.
He continued to prowl around quietly, inspecting the weapons shed and finding himself thoroughly displeased— none were ancient enough to peak Sukuna’s interest.
Truly, was this all the modern era of Jujutsu sorcery had to offer? Sukuna had found more note-worthy content from the underside of a rock.
He was about to wander into the classrooms— hoping to find some written knowledge stored in their cabinets— when a presence so sharp and icy it nearly burned him trickled down his spine. Sukuna straightened instantly, the cursed energy ruffling his clothes and hair, bathing him in a near daunting aura. He felt eyes on him— six of them, to be precise.
Gritting his teeth and tightening his muscles, he turned stiffly to face the being behind his affliction.
None other than Satoru Gojo, standing before him, hands in his pockets and that vexing smile plastered on his face. Without a care in the world, as always. Sukuna felt a growl build in his throat, one that he quickly suppressed, but it was the act of it forming alone that enraged him to the umpteeth.
The same sort of rage Sukuna felt with Yuuji broiled in him, only worsened by the knowledge that, at his diluted state, the damned human was stronger than him.
“ Six Eyes, ” he hissed, his claws drawing blood where they were digging into his palms.
“Ah, so it really is you.” Gojo leaned against the wall of the weapons storage. His blindfold was on, but Sukuna knew the other was looking at him. “Don’t tell me you stressed our poor Yuuji out too much in exchange for the body.”
“He is not ours ,” Sukuna insisted, though he wasn’t sure what the rebuttal to that would be. That brat certainly wasn’t Gojo’s, but what else could he say? That Yuuji was his? The statement alone unnerved him. Yuuji was nothing and thus no one’s; Sukuna wouldn’t worry himself over impossible hypotheticals. “And no, he surrendered the body to me of his own volition.”
“With only the gentlest of prodding, I’m sure,” he said sardonically, cocking his head to regard Sukuna. More somberly, he concluded, “You two have a binding vow.”
Sukuna didn’t bother indicating one way or another. “Have you anything of importance, Six Eyes?”
Gojo laughed. “I could ask you the same. I’m assuming one of the conditions of your vow prevents you from attacking, otherwise you would’ve tried to strike me down already. So how about we just talk, hm?”
He walked off, not even bothering to see if Sukuna was following. Sukuna had half the mind to turn heel and ignore him, but something about this whole situation was exceedingly tempting. After all, when Sukuna regained the rest of his fingers, Gojo was the first person he would be coming after— the only human who dared stand proud against the King of Curses.
Moreover, Sukuna figured a meeting with the supposed “Strongest” of this era couldn’t hurt. And besides, if the prospect intrigued him, there was no reason to ignore it. Perhaps he could learn something from this affair after all.
Once Sukuna’s step fell in line with Gojo’s, the latter warped them to the roof of the dormitory, the night sky laid out before them. Darkness blanketed the underbelly of the building, shielding their presence from view.
Gojo had intentionally concealed them, which could only mean he had no plans of trying to fight Sukuna. Not that Sukuna could see Gojo as the type to kick an already beaten man— there would be no purpose in fighting Sukuna when he could not strike back, particularly so when he still needed the curse alive.
“I suppose you have no intent to kill me,” he voiced his musings aloud, pacing along the rivets of the roof. His bare feet clapped lightly against it.
“After I just got my student back? No way!”
Sukuna scoffed. “You should thank me, it was I who restarted his heart.”
“It was also you who stopped it.”
He shrugged. “Semantics.”
Then, he felt a puff of cold air emanate from behind him, brushing against his back, and he shivered, suddenly feeling the need to put more distance between the two of them.
“Frightened?” Gojo had the nerve to tease. Sukuna didn’t deign to look at him.
“You are a frustration and a weed amongst the garden of my domain. I have no desire for your presence.”
“You know,” said Gojo, completely ignoring Sukuna and appearing at his side where he stood at the edge of the roof. His chin was tilted up, his cheeks pulled into a soft smile. He looked oddly serene, bathed under the blue moonlight. “They say no two souls are ever truly separated. We all look up at the same night sky and count the same stars.”
“Have you requested my company merely to spout poetry?” Sukuna murmured, an underlying growl to his words. He was in no mood for annoyances— if Gojo had nothing of substance for him, he would leave.
But Gojo just laughed. “You are the most impatient curse I’ve met. You would think a thousand years of existence would teach you something about waiting, no?”
Sukuna said nothing but looked at the sky.
“Ah, but your vow has a time limit, doesn’t it? I won’t waste your precious few minutes of breathing on your own again, I promise.”
There was a beat of silence, then he said, “Are the stars the same as they were back then?”
“Perhaps. Does this nonsense have a point, Six Eyes?”
Gojo hummed. “Maybe. I’m curious, though, what was the Six Eyes user of the Heian Era like?”
“Does it truly matter?” Sukuna groaned.
“Oh, but it does.”
“I do not remember. I killed her swiftly and without incident.”
Gojo grinned. “You don’t have to lie, you know.”
Sukuna whirled on him, eyes blazing. He brought his hand up, fingers coiled and claws bared, ready to tear out the man’s aorta for such impertinence, when the reminder of the binding vow came crashing down on him. He seethed, slowly bringing his hand back to his side, and glared. “I will drag your death out, Six Eyes, with every agony at my disposal. Know this.”
The other giggled. “I would be honored, were it not so easy to stir a rise out of you.”
Sukuna scowled, turning away from Gojo to drop into a crouch. “She was as much of an annoyance as you continue to be,” he said at last, whispering into the darkness. “Such is the nature of reincarnation.”
“Oh?” He encouraged Sukuna to keep going, like an overzealous teen.
“She bore the same self-righteous, wholly aggravating goals you do,” he continued despite himself. There was catharsis in lamentation, and Sukuna found himself longing for Uraume— a confidant, a person to unveil oneself to. How disgustingly human of him. His mouth twitched. “I destroyed her all the same. She was young, and I considered eating her, had I not wished to consume her vexation.”
Gojo sat beside him, dangling his legs off the roof, feet swinging like he was a child and not nearing his thirties. “I take it you have no goals other than bloodshed, then.”
He grimaced. “Goals are worthless. As one eats when one is hungry, and one sleeps when one is lethargic, I do what brings me pleasure and nothing more. Any ideology or philosophy is nothing but meaningless babble amongst mortal creatures who have no conception of what it is to be beyond strength.” Sukuna glanced at Gojo. “You think you are the Strongest, Satoru Gojo, but you are nothing more than those maggots clinging to a senseless prayer of what it means to live.”
The other was quiet for a moment. “You’re lonely.”
Sukuna found himself at a loss for words.
Just as he was about to formulate some sort of defense, Gojo continued, “You ramble like you’ve been in solitary confinement for months.” He huffed. “I guess you have been. You reek of loneliness, you know? It’s funny, I never thought to think of you as anything more than a curse, but you were human once too.”
He slipped his blindfold off, jewel eyes gleaming where they were sheltered under pale lashes, and Sukuna stared at him, aghast. “I was never—“
“A person?” Gojo finished for him. “I know. From the moment of my birth, there’s been a bounty on my head and assassins at my cradle. I know what it is to be seen as your otherness first.”
That same anger flashed through Sukuna, and he found himself once again raising a hand. “You know nothing— “ His words were cut off as, abruptly, he found his hand frozen in place. It lingered just over Gojo’s breast, where his heart was, and there was nothing Sukuna could do to bring it closer.
Infinity.
His anger faded without a moment’s notice, and Sukuna found himself mesmerized by the technique, eyes widening as he tilted his head to inspect it further.
“Curious?” Gojo queried.
Sukuna brought his hand back to his own chest, humming under his breath. “The last Six Eyes user I fought could not perform this.”
The other chuckled. “Well, what can I say? I like to remain undefeated and impressive.”
“You possess neither quality,” Sukuna refuted, but even he couldn’t deny the hypnotic quality Infinity held. He smiled. “However, I will enjoy our battle, when the time for it comes.”
“And you say you have no goals.”
“A desire is not a goal.”
“Semantics,” Gojo echoed. “You are a walking creation of contradiction, you know.”
Sukuna wrinkled his nose, ruing the way it made Gojo’s grin widen.
“You say you have no ideology, then rant to me about pleasure and desire. Then you say you aren’t a human, despite your obvious gripes with isolation.”
“ Enough. I wish to hear no more of this. I am neither human nor lonely . I have no need for such things. When my power is restored and the world brought back to its former glory, my worshippers will be endless.”
“Ah, but that is not the same as understanding, is it?” Gojo continued, because that seemed to be all he was good for. “You don’t know what real love is. Neither did I, until I entered my teen years. Even then, I could’ve easily become you. Human lives are as fragile to me as they are to you.”
He exhaled deeply, letting the wind tousle his white hair. Then, he turned those sharp eyes on Sukuna, and the curse found himself unable to look away.
“We are not so different, Ryomen. The same stars look down on us.”
Something terse and unyielding flared inside him, like Infinity pressing down upon his soul. “We are, Six Eyes, and we always will be. You could have devoured the world years ago, and yet you chose not to, because you bare the weakness of a heart. I have no conception of love— you are right— and it is for that reason that you will fail and I will triumph. That is how it happened with her, and how it will happen with you.”
“Is that really what you think?”
“What more is there to say?” Sukuna countered. He could feel the time on the vow slipping away from him, and idly, he realized he’d spent the better part of it arguing with his would-be nemesis.
Gojo clapped his hands together, the sound of it making Sukuna’s ears ring. “I suppose you’ve never had anyone willing to teach you— about love, that is. Then in that case, I’ll be your mentor.”
“Were you perhaps dropped on the head as an infant?”
“No, but that would make a lot of things make sense.” He smirked. “Think of it this way, you’re bound from attacking me, and I you. So that only leaves us with this.” Gojo gestured to the space between the two.
Sukuna snorted. “You don’t truly mean to try to defeat me with flowers and sunshine, do you?”
Gojo shrugged, still looking at Sukuna, still entirely fearless and unphased. He looked at Sukuna, and it was as if he didn’t mind if the other saw the very depths of his soul. “Wouldn’t hurt to try.”
Amusement bubbled in his chest, and Sukuna hummed a laugh. “You are intriguing, I will give you that much.” He closed his eyes, peering into his innate domain to check up on the boy. Yuuji stirred a little, and Sukuna knew it was only a matter of time before he woke up completely.
“Is my precious student returning?” Gojo asked sunily, perceptive as always. Almost as an afterthought, Sukuna wondered just how much Gojo could see with his Six Eyes— if he looked at Yuuji and saw more than just the brat. If he saw him.
Sukuna sighed. “He is rising. Our time nears its end.”
“Aw, disappointed?”
“Not in the slightest. You have propagated nothing but nonsense since opening your mouth. But still, you have me entertained, Satoru Gojo. I will not forget this night.”
He looked back at the stars, at the constellations which remained the same— only altered in name. He thought of her, of the night they had battled, of the stars then. He’d nearly lost his life to her hand, though Sukuna would never admit it. She was younger than him, yet still she had him grasping at threads to remain breathing.
He remembered that feeling like no other— the desperation, the fear. Sukuna vowed to never let it happen again.
She— the Six Eyes of the Heian Era— was the one who made him decide to become a curse.
And now, the Six Eyes of the Modern Era, the one who dubbed himself the Strongest, was set on doing just the opposite.
What a strange series of events this was all turning out to be.
“Goodnight, Ryomen,” Gojo’s voice carried over, distorted as though he was underwater. “Until we meet again under the stars.”
Sukuna laughed then, letting his control over the body cease and be replaced by Yuuji’s soul. Gojo would fail, he was sure, because it was the way of fate for the Six Eyes. But the prospect was mirthful nonetheless. So perhaps Sukuna would let it drag out, just for a little while longer, and see where it led him.
If the one who would teach him love was Gojo, then so be it.
Perhaps it would be worthwhile after all.