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Yuuji remembered it like it was yesterday: the burning scent of antiseptic, the bare white walls, and the rhythmic beeping of the monitors connected to his grandfather in that hospital room. His grandfather usually ignored him, insisting he should be in school or out living his life—not dwelling on an old man. But that day was different.
Propped up in bed, his grandfather met Yuuji’s eyes with a seriousness that caught him off guard. He told him to sit and listen. “Yuuji, today is my last day.” He raised a hand to silence his grandson’s protests and continued, “I have one request and one only.” Yuuji sat up straight, his heart racing.
“It’s an heirloom, a gift passed down for generations, and I want you to have it, but…” He paused, thumbing a small pendant around his neck, no larger than a quarter, with a golden tiger on one side and a silver phoenix on the other. “Never take this off, Yuuji; it will keep you safe. Promise me.” His grandfather grabbed Yuuji’s wrist, placing the pendant in his palm and closing his fingers over it.
“Live. Be free and live a life full of love and joy. Don’t be like me.” Yuuji gazed at the beautifully etched piece of artwork in his hand, tears welling up, and put it over his head. “I promise.” “Good. Now leave me, allow this old man to die in peace.” Those were the last words his grandfather ever said to him, because true to his word, he passed that day, as peacefully as a grumpy old man could.
Not long after, Yuuji found himself in the life of a Jujutsu sorcerer, in a constant state of peril and danger. Though he may have technically died once, he wasn’t truly dead but in limbo between worlds, making a deal with the devil.
But now, here he stood once again on the precipice of life or death, not just for his own, but for the entire world. Tomorrow, they would face off against Sukuna and Kenjaku to decide the fate of the world.
Walking side by side with fingers interlaced, Yuuji glanced up at the man who, by all rights, was his entire world. He stopped in his tracks. “Satoru,” Yuuji said, pulling him to a stop. “I want to give you something, to keep you safe tomorrow.”
Satoru grinned sheepishly and tenderly kissed him. “Don’t worry, I’ll win.”
Yuuji indulged in the kiss, then pulled away and pinched his cheeks. “Of course you will. But,” he reached around his neck, taking off the necklace his grandfather had gifted him. “I want you to have a little piece of me with you since I can’t be there.”
Satoru looked at the piece of jewelry, his eyes narrowing as he examined it, as if he couldn’t quite decide if there was something different about it or not.
“When my grandfather passed away, he told me to wear this and it would keep me safe.” Yuuji lifted it over Satoru’s head and patted it against his chest. “And now I’m giving it to you, to give you some extra safety.”
Satoru wrapped Yuuji in his arms, embracing him tightly. “Always the thoughtful one, my Yuuji.” He kissed the top of his head, down to his cheek, and finally his lips.
Cupping his face, Satoru looked deep into Yuuji’s battle-hardened amber eyes and said, “Thank you, Yuuji. How could I ever repay you?”
Yuuji smiled and covered Satoru’s hands with his own. “Well, I want to go on a proper date when this is over.”
Satoru reverently kissed his forehead and said, “It will be my greatest honor to take you on as many dates as you’ll give me. You’ll be dated out!”
Yuuji chuckled and then went quiet. “Just—come back safe to me, please, Satoru.”
Satoru made a motion of crossing an ‘x’ over his heart. “Watch and wait for me, Yuuji.”
The day came and went too quickly, stoking the unease in Yuuji’s gut as they lay together that night. Satoru held him close to his bare chest, after convincing him he needed to try and sleep before the fight. Gingerly, Yuuji touched the body-warmed metal of the pendant and wished with all his heart and soul for Satoru to come back safe. Selfishly, he hoped that even if they weren’t victorious this time, as long as Satoru came back to him safe, they could try again another day.
With a jittery heart and the tang of anxiety churning his stomach, Yuuji snuggled into Satoru’s warmth and decided that he wouldn’t doubt. He believed wholeheartedly that once the sun set the following day, they would be able to pursue as normal a life as they could hope for. Satoru’s arms were warm and secure, his nose nestled into Yuuji’s hair. “I’m right here, and I’ll be here again tomorrow. Sleep and save your strength, Yuuji.” Yuuji only nodded and held him even tighter.
The sun crested the horizon, and with an over-amplified Hollow Purple, the battle ensued, televised across the country for all to witness.
Yuuji sat hunched, fingers laced between his legs, his eyes glued to the old RCA screen as he watched Satoru in all his radiant glory and Sukuna in his friend’s body with stolen techniques clash in a battle of power, old versus new.
His heart raced with adrenaline, and he felt pride swell in his chest. Yuuji theoretically knew how strong Satoru was, but seeing him display it without holding back was a sight to behold. It wasn’t just his physical strength or even the magnitude of his cursed energy, but his mental dexterity—his ability to think and adapt on his feet, to read his opponents’ moves in an instant, and then execute an effective plan.
It was long and drawn out—a god-tier fight that seemed evenly matched, with each side taking and dealing life-obliterating blows. There was so much destruction; anywhere they touched became a wasteland of rubble and debris. Between the domain expansions and constant RCT rebuilding their bodies, it was a war of stamina. Satoru hadn’t been lying when Yuuji asked that fateful question so long ago, if he would be able to defeat Sukuna, and he’d replied that it would be difficult, but he’d win. This fight was indeed proving to be more than difficult.
Sukuna had lived inside Yuuji’s body and mind for so long that seeing him fighting felt like an out-of-body experience. The battlefield felt like a scale that only tipped slightly in either direction, until a bright flash of blue and red, delayed and forgotten, came back into view.
Yuuji pumped his fists, jumping out of his seat as Mahoraga was obliterated, pummeling Sukuna into the ground. Satoru stood tall as the dust settled.
They had won! Satoru had won.
Or so he thought, they all thought.
A dismantled slash cleaved through the air, and the stark look of surprise and disbelief colored his lover’s face. Time itself stood still, and slowly, ever so slowly, Satoru’s torso slid, severed from his body, and collapsed to the ground.
Yuuji’s hands dropped, his face and heart stopping with shock. Everything was silent static in his ears. It wasn’t possible, couldn’t be possible. No, not after everything. He’d won! How? Why?
“No…” That single word was like a venom-dripped mantra, echoed from Yuuji’s lips over and over again.
When Satoru didn’t move, and the rise and fall of his chest ceased, Yuuji’s eyes blew wide. He lost his composure and punched the television, shattering it in a single hit and scattering its pieces to every corner of the room.
“Take me there,” Yuuji demanded, turning to his allies. “Now, take me there now!”
They all looked at him with a stern but slightly sympathetic look. “We have protocol if this were to happen, Yuuji. You know that—”
“Now!” Yuuji shouted again, this time so loud he strained his vocal cords. When no one moved to help but instead tried to grab hold of him to hold him back, to reason with him into staying, he turned and sprinted out the door. He knew he should be rational, should stop to think things through, but his heart ached in a visceral mess, and his instinct—his need to go to Satoru—overwhelmed any reason to stay.
Yuuji crashed through the doors of the building, blinded by sorrow and grief. What he missed was the faint glow of gold and silver that engulfed the battlegrounds. Its radiance was so bright that in a flash, the remaining TVs’ pictures cracked and fizzled until all the power flickered and went out, severing their visual connection to the battle.
If Satoru was going to fight to the death, then Yuuji would avenge his death or die alongside him trying. Yuuji’s feet pounded into the floor with surprisingly light steps as he bolted like lightning, determined to rip the remains of Sukuna apart, savoring every shred of pain he inflicted.
Death on the battlefield isn’t uncommon; it’s even praised—honored among many to die defending their cause. Satoru, however, doesn’t share the sentiment. He feels his soul lift from his body, gazes out at the decimated buildings and down at his severed body, and there is a deep longing to go back, even knowing the pain he was physically in. He’s not ready; he needs to stay.
But his vision is ripped away, and he’s in an airport, where he sees his friends and enemies alike, who were already long lost to this life. They are waiting in the in-between. He has regrets; after all, no sorcerer will die without them. He decides going south would do him no good. He can’t be the same as before because that’s not how life is. Things can never go back to the way they were; there is only forward to a new future, and that’s where Satoru decides to go. He needs to go North to be better, stronger, and change the course of fate. There is no moving on, not yet, not without Yuuji, not without fulfilling his promise to him.
There’s a searing sensation in his chest, a pulse and tug. A cord of silver and gold connects to his chest, and it glows brighter, growing and looping around his body until he’s neatly wrapped in it like a cocoon.
Pain explodes through his body, hot, searing, and excruciating. It grows stronger and pulses longer until he can feel it—he’s being remade, reborn into the body he’d left too soon.
Every ligament and blood vessel reattached, one by one, and the bone of his spine snapped back together. He could feel it, lifeblood being forced into his body. Then his heart—he could feel the moment it began to beat, strong and steady. Each oozing cut clotted, stitching closed until the feeling returned in his legs, all the way down to his toes. The sensation was overwhelming, as if the universe itself was piecing him back together.
Satoru sucked in a living breath, those magnificent blue eyes snapping open. His hearing was the last to regain its sensation, slowly, so slowly. It started like a dull hum, a buzz muffled as if he were underwater. He lay there, his heart thumping stronger in his chest with each passing moment. Once he had the strength to lift his arm, he clutched at the lingering burning in his chest to find the pendant Yuuji had gifted him as the source of the pain. It glowed red hot and then dulled, severing into two symmetrical pieces, the enchantment on the old relic spent.
A feral smile bloomed on his lips. Here he was, the strongest of his generation, fighting to save everyone, defeated only to be saved once again by the man who never ceased to amaze him at every single turn. The realization hit him with the force of a tidal wave—he had been given a second chance, a chance to fulfill his promise and protect those he loved.
“My Yuuji,” Satoru grinned. “You saved me again.”
Explosions rocked the ground, accompanied by shouts and cries of desperate, inconsolable rage and anguish. Satoru pushed himself up to a sitting position, and the sight before him filled him with both pride and heartbreak.
Yuuji was locked in a fierce battle on the field, bloodied and enduring blow after blow from Sukuna, yet retaliating with his newly acquired abilities. After a particularly brutal strike from Sukuna sent Yuuji crashing to the ground, a seething rage surged through his veins. Yuuji knelt on one knee, spitting blood from his lips and sneering, shouting incoherent obscenities at Sukuna. Sukuna taunted him mercilessly, calling him a worthless, pathetic brat destined to die under his foot.
Satoru felt his cursed energy surge, and he stood, cracking his neck from side to side. There was no fatigue in his muscles, no depletion of his cursed energy; he felt revitalized and stronger than ever. He vowed that not a single attack would reach Yuuji again.
Yuuji dashed forward, delivering black flash after black flash, each blow forcing the separation of Megumi’s soul from Sukuna’s, one attack at a time. Satoru watched, lifting his hand, palm up, as he breathed, gathering all of his energy and concentrating it on a single point—a single Purple Hollow no bigger than a baseball. Once Yuuji’s onslaught of black flashes separated their souls even slightly, he would strike.
“You took him away from me!” Yuuji cried out. At that exact moment, Yuuji’s fist collided with Sukuna’s soul, causing the bodies to separate. Before they could snap back together, Satoru released his energy with a flick of his fingers. It carved through the air at near the speed of light. He teleported directly before Yuuji, wrapped him in his arms and shielded them with his restored limitless technique.
The Hollow Purple ravaged Sukuna, tearing through his chest and shredding him down to an atomic level. Satoru watched with wicked satisfaction as Sukuna’s face mirrored the same horrified, disbelieving look that he himself had worn not long ago. It was the fear of not just death, but defeat. This was the moment Sukuna realized his mistake, his underestimation of his opponent, and ultimately met his demise.
Sukuna’s body shimmered as he roared with rage. All nineteen fingers exploded from his flesh in a burst of energy, scattering around Megumi’s limp body and turning the cursed man back into his individual cursed objects.
Blind to his surroundings, Yuuji thrashed, screamed, and fought to break free, his sorrowful rage consuming his conscious mind. An animalistic cruelty bled into his eyes; he needed to sink his nails into Sukuna, rip him apart, and make him suffer for every life he had taken. He wanted Sukuna to beg for a death that wouldn’t come.
“Give him back!” he screamed, struggling harder against the binds around his body. So lost in his madness, he didn’t even realize that Sukuna already lay scattered around Megumi.
“Aww, you did miss me that much, Yuuji-kun,” Satoru cooed, his voice light and playful.
Yuuji went rigid in his hold. That voice—his voice. He turned from ferocious tiger to cub in a fraction of a second. He couldn’t, refused to look up, terrified of what he might see. The red haze in front of his eyes dissipated, and he saw the line of scorched earth, Megumi battered but breathing steadily, and those cursed fingers—Sukuna nowhere in sight.
Satoru watched Yuuji register the scene before them, the adrenaline still buzzing through his veins. Timidly, as if not to frighten a wild animal, he gently pulled him back against his chest. Wiping the blood and grime from his arms, he dropped his head into the cradle of his neck and just breathed.
“Yuuji, I’m okay. I’m right here. You fought so well. I’m so proud,” Satoru soothed, all trace of playfulness replaced by genuine affection.
Yuuji’s blood pressure dropped, reducing him to violent, full-body shaking convulsions. He couldn’t speak, and his knees buckled, tears streaming down his face. Satoru caught him, gingerly turning him in his arms, and knelt on the ground.
Yuuji’s focus stayed glued to the ground. Those horrifying images of Satoru playing on the TV and then seeing his body in person—dead, cleaved in half—haunted him. It seemed impossible for someone to come back from that. But a tender touch to his chin lifted his honey eyes to meet the clear blue sky. His bottom lip trembled, and he couldn’t—didn’t have the words. Maybe he’d died and was in the afterlife where Satoru had come for him. That had to be it.
Satoru just shook his head, his matted white hair turned a rust brown from blood and dirt swaying. “I’m here,” he said again, more firmly this time.
Yuuji lurched off his knees and barreled himself at Satoru, throwing his arms around his neck and clinging to him like a lifeline. The floodgates opened, and he sobbed—sobbed for those who were lost, sobbed for those who survived, and sobbed with a combination of disbelief, relief, and most of all, hope for the future.
Satoru held him tight, fingers massaging his scalp, soothing him until the hiccups eased and his shaking subsided. Only then did he pull back to admire Yuuji’s beautiful face and kiss his blood-stained lips. “You saved me—all of us,” Satoru smiled. “You are the reason I’m here right now.” He rubbed his back and caressed his cheek with such tender affection.
“I saw you die—you were in half, you weren’t breathing,” Yuuji hiccuped again and started to pound on Satoru’s chest, his emotions overflowing as a fresh wave of tears streamed down. With startling force, Yuuji yanked him down and kissed him back with fervor and desperation. His tongue pushed past Satoru’s lips, devouring him. Satoru obliged, matching his passion, their tongues dancing and tasting each other. Yuuji ripped at Satoru’s tattered shirt, needing to be closer, to know he was there without a doubt.
The moment simmered, and when they broke apart, they rested their foreheads together. Yuuji asked, “How?” Satoru shrugged his shoulders. “You tell me. I was just as surprised.” Then he sighed, “I thought I’d failed everyone, failed you—broke our promise. And I remember—” Satoru closed his eyes. “I remember being on the other side. I saw the others there, but I wasn’t ready to leave… I needed to come back, but I didn’t think it would be possible until I felt the tug, something so unlike RCT, pulling my body back together.” He opened his eyes and studied the questioning look in those amber eyes. “And my chest was burning. I could feel everything, but I was back in my body.”
Yuuji pulled back and studied his face, puzzled, until Satoru pulled out the bisected necklace. “I’m pretty sure your grandfather gave you a ‘get out of death free’ card.” Satoru smirked, placing the necklace around Yuuji’s neck and putting the small piece in his hand. “I was dead, Yuuji.” Satoru cupped his face, running his thumb over the crest of his cheek. “But I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to come back to you, and oh boy did I feel it. But it gave me a second chance—you gave me a second chance and saved the world.”
Yuuji clenched his fist and placed the other half of the necklace back in Satoru’s hand, closing his fingers over it. “I want you to keep this.” He smiled, then his eyes dropped to his lap, deep in thought, shocked and confused.
How could it have been possible? “But I died too, if it was only a one-time use—” Satoru shook his head. “No, you may have appeared dead, but Sukuna kept you alive the whole time, so the cursed technique here was never activated. My guess is you have to ‘actually’ be dead for it to work. Lucky for me.” Yuuji touched Satoru’s face and kissed him once more.
Brought back to reality and their current circumstances, they glanced at Megumi and watched as, one by one, the fingers disintegrated, the cursed energy contained in them spent, and the dust was carried away on the breeze. They stood and walked to Megumi as the rest of their friends and allies swarmed the area. It was a flurry of commotion. There were people everywhere, still on alert and ready for a fight, but many stopped in their tracks and just stared at Satoru standing, very much alive, with Yuuji in his arms. Even Urame, who was once connected to Sukuna, smiled sadly, admitted defeat this time, and turned to ash.
Satoru kept Yuuji close, tucked into his side as Shoko approached to tend to Megumi, nearly as shocked as Yuuji had been. He smirked, holding his hands up, and said, “Don’t think you can get rid of me so easily. Although,” he squeezed Yuuji, “my adorable little Yuuji is the one who really saved me—well, everyone actually.”
She smirked with her hands on her hips. “And we thought we’d be free of that cocky attitude of yours.” Shoko patted, then lightly squeezed Satoru’s arm and looked at Yuuji with gratitude. “I guess the strongest needs help sometimes too.” She winked and bent down to assess Megumi’s condition, who was stable and appeared to just be knocked out, but miraculously had no serious or life-threatening injuries.
Cheers and cries of relief reverberated through the area. The culling games would need to be handled, society would need new structure, and the people of Japan would need time and resources to heal and rebuild. There would be so much to do, but for now, in this moment, they would celebrate their victory.
It had been a long day, and though he felt refreshed from his renewed life, the last blast of cursed energy left him fatigued. Not to mention, Yuuji had fought tooth and nail, putting his life on the line, and the adrenaline was beginning to wear off. Satoru turned, steering Yuuji away from everything. They had done their part, and what Satoru wanted most right now was to clean the filth off of Yuuji, to grace every new scar with a kiss and a better memory.
A voice called behind them, “Wait, Gojo, we need your help—” Satoru didn’t know who the voice belonged to; he didn’t even turn. They were cut off all the same, silenced by the look on not his face, but Yuuji’s.
Yuuji’s rage began to boil under his skin. Yes, things had turned out in their favor, but the memory of asking for help—asking, begging them to bring him to Satoru—and being refused outright still burned. And now they were asking for more. Megumi was in the care of Shoko, and he had done his part in fighting. If Satoru was going to take him away from here, no one was going to stop them. The death glare Yuuji shot at them was answer enough.
“I’m taking Yuuji to get patched up. I’m sure you all can handle things here, and we’ll be back in a bit to help,” Satoru said, and without another word, teleported himself and Yuuji away.
There would be time to help and time to assess. There were so many hands out there that he could take everyone’s savior out and tend to him himself. Satoru took them to the coast where the waves crashed against the empty beach and sat on the sand, Yuuji nestled between his knees. There was a long stretch of silence as they listened to the waves crash and the surf fizzle with each retreat. It was a comfortable silence, contemplative and peaceful, allowing them to sort through their thoughts or empty their minds and just exist.
“I can use my own reverse curse technique now, so my injuries are fine,” Yuuji said, poking at Satoru’s knee.
“Hmm, that might be so, but how about in here?” He tapped his forehead. “Or here.” Satoru touched his heart. “Are these already healed? Are they fine?”
There was a brokenness in Yuuji’s eyes, and Satoru pulled him into his lap, wrapping his legs around his waist so they sat face to face. “You are one of the strongest people I’ve met. You’ve managed to pick yourself up and keep going when it would’ve broken so many others.” His thumbs lovingly stroked Yuuji’s spine. “Trust me, I’ve seen it. But you—you put everyone else first, so right now, just focus on me.”
He paused, then continued, “We lost a lot, not just today, and I want you to be able to take a moment for yourself before putting it all on the line for everyone else again, like the selfless, big-hearted Yuuji I know.”
“What about you, Satoru? After everything you went through—” Satoru silenced him with a kiss and said, “You are my healing. Sitting here alone with you is what I need, with the one person who’s always included me, worried about me, and became the strongest to save me.”
Yuuji let go and silently cried, letting his tears soak into the black material of Satoru’s tattered shirt. Satoru didn’t say anything else; he only rubbed Yuuji’s back and allowed him to feel his emotions until he was ready.
The sun began to set, setting the sky ablaze with fiery reds, deep blues, and purples which refracted off the crashing waves. It was beautiful, serene. The silence that hung in the air for the first time wasn’t ominous or foreboding; it was peaceful, with the promise of a better tomorrow.
Yuuji shifted so he sat sideways in Satoru’s lap, tucking his head under Satoru’s chin, arms encircled around one of Satoru’s, and looked toward the setting sun—the setting of Sukuna’s reign on the world as it dipped below the horizon line.
Satoru broke the silence and said, “How about we make this our very first official date?” He suggested, looking from the sky to Yuuji, who looked so ethereal, bathed in the warm rays. “What could be more romantic than watching a sunset after being saved from the brink of death, hmm?”
“Our first date,” Yuuji agreed, and in that moment, they reached for each other and sealed it with a brush of lips, gentle and loving.
Yuuji’s stomach took center stage as it gurgled loud and demanding. “You know…” he began, “it wouldn’t be proper if my date didn’t offer his savior dinner.” Yuuji batted those seductive eyelashes at him.
Satoru gasped dramatically. “How cruel of me! My dearest Yuuji must be starving, and I certainly can’t have that! No, not on my watch!”
He stood up, carrying Yuuji like a blushing bride. “Anything my heart desires—that’s you, by the way—he shall have!”
Yuuji laughed, kicking his legs excitedly.
“Now, would you like dessert before or after the main course?” Satoru’s grin turned suggestive as he nipped at Yuuji’s bottom lip.
Yuuji leaned into the touch, shivering when his stomach protested loudly again. “I’m going to need to restore my energy for you later,” he replied, breathless.
“Takeout it is,” Satoru murmured, claiming Yuuji’s lips in a possessive kiss before teleporting them away.
This was just the beginning of countless dates. Satoru vowed to keep every promise he made to Yuuji, cherishing every moment they shared. And if Yuuji had his way, it would never end.