Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Get me another beer, would you, Sukuna?”

There are two elderly men in front of him, both very tired-looking and slightly inebriated. Sukuna never really helps tending to the bar, and yet, here he is, behind the counter, serving cheap drinks to old man Kimura and his friend. They usually do not cause any trouble, just drink and complain about their wives and work. Simple joys, Sukuna supposes.

“You better have the money to pay for it, old man.”

“Be a dear, put it on my tab.”

Sukuna scoffs, as if. Miwa, the tavern bar-maiden, is way too kind to these old bastards. She lets them drink for free, and always puts checks on their tabs. But Miwa went on a date, and Sukuna is covering for the night, and he is not gonna be as nice.

“Either pay up or get out.”

A man rolls his eyes but pulls the money out of his pocket, and puts a couple of coins on the counter. “You are such a pain in the ass. When’s Miwa coming back?”

Sukuna laughs, easily amused by the old man. “Tomorrow.”

Kimura gulps down the whole pint in one go and picks up his hat. “Then I’m getting outta here. If I spend any more sen today, my wife’s gonna ride my ass for the next eternity.”

“Go get her some flowers, old man.”

He waves Sukuna off and gets up from the barstool. “As if I would take any love advice from you, brat.”

Sukuna really wants to flip the old man off but decides against it. He only has to play nice for another fifteen minutes, and then he can finally close the tavern for the night and go home. Miwa would be back tomorrow, and he would return to his usual place as a bouncer in the bar. At least he wouldn’t have to pretend to tolerate all these people.

Their cook, Lady Mori, a short woman in her late sixties, has already left her shift, so Sukuna is practically the only person in the bar apart from one lone customer. He has half a mind to throw him out and leave earlier, but the bar owner, Miwa’s grandmother, would find out about it and talk Sukuna’s ear off. She probably wouldn’t fire him, since he does a good job dealing with aggressive drunk people, but she definitely could make him regret his early leave. So, he stays.

Around ten minutes before the end of his shift, the front door opens to three young men in military uniform.

The news about the imminent warfare has already reached the masses, so Sukuna pays no mind to the increasing numbers of soldiers patrolling the streets. Some of them come by the bar after their patrols, drinking and talking amongst themselves, occasionally picking up women and trading stories if there is an appreciative audience. They never cause trouble, though, and Sukuna has no problem with them.

Miwa would pour them drinks on the house, just to show the appreciation the establishment has for the men who keep them safe. Sukuna does not do that, because he refuses to feed into their egos. He greets them with a slight wave and points his finger at the clock hanging above his head.

“You have ten minutes before the bar closes.”

The group of soldiers makes their way to the counter, sitting themselves on the barstools right in front of Sukuna. One of the soldiers smiles at Sukuna and raises his brow in fake disbelief. “Is that a way to greet those who protect you, pretty thing?”.

He is taller than Sukuna, around 195 centimeters in height, with pitch-black eyes and a scar on his forehead. He must not be much older, but the mustache and unkempt hair make him look like all of the regular drunkards in the bar.

Sukuna scoffs at his comment and decides to disregard the pet name. He’s had to deal with this type of attention ever since he turned seventeen, so meaningless flattery doesn’t work on him. It never did. He knows he is a conventionally attractive young man, tall and nicely built, with strong facial features and sharp eyes. He never really cared about appearances, though.

“What, am I supposed to bow down to you?”.

The mustache man shuts up, while a man with dark blonde hair smiles and leans closer to the counter, closer to Sukuna’s face. “You feisty little thing, aren’t ya?”.

Sukuna fixes the three of them with a blank stare and a tilt of the head. He feels himself getting angry at their attitude, and he wants to punch each one of them straight in the face, but he can’t. Fighting with customers is strictly prohibited, especially if said customers are from the military.

“You want a drink or did you come here to have a chat?”

One of the soldiers, the shortest one, turns away from Sukuna and gives the place a once-over. “I heard that the establishment is run by a cute girl who gives drinks for free.”

It’s not untrue, but Sukuna doesn’t want to see their faces around here ever again, so he resorts to a little lie. He hums, entertained by the disappointment written on the shorter man’s face, and shakes his head. “No cute girls, I’m afraid. And no free drinks either.”

The mustache guy and his short friend sigh grievously, while the dark-blonde guy smiles slyly. “Forgive my companions and their manners”. He stands up and extends his hand. “It’s nice to meet such a beautiful man. Don’t see that often. I’m Hisao.”

Sukuna looks at him, completely unimpressed by his unwanted advances. “Sukuna.” He responds, without taking his hand.

“Su-ku-na.” Hisao purrs, looking at Sukuna in a way that is probably meant to be seductive. “A rare name for a rare beauty.”

Hisao’s companions stare at him in disbelief, trying to tug at his uniform jacket discreetly, urging him to leave.

Hisao ignores them and fixes his stare at Sukuna. “Why don’t we ditch this place and go somewhere more private?”.

“I have no desire to spend time with you.” Sukuna scoffs and bares his teeth in a wide grin.

Hisao rolls his eyes, taking Sukuna’s words as a playful banter. “Come on, let’s go out. I’ll make it worth your while.”

Sukuna resorts to ignoring him altogether and turns his attention to Hisao’s company instead. “I’m closing off the bar, take your friend and leave.”

The men nod in response, standing up and fixing their uniforms. Hisao, on the other hand, doesn’t move an inch. He looks frustrated, probably not used to such blatant rejection.

“I know the likes of you, acting all unapproachable and guarded until a very good fu-”

Sukuna punches him straight in the face before Hisao has a chance to finish the sentence. He really hoped that he broke that guy’s nose — if they were in the streets, Sukuna would have beaten him up to death already. But since he is still at work, and he is a professional, it is as good of a compromise as it gets.

Fighting with any customers, let alone military men, is very bad for the business, but so, so good for his mental state — he couldn’t bear to listen to Hisao’s deranged speech, and kicking his ass seemed like a fitting way to end this excruciatingly boring day.

“I won’t repeat myself.” Sukuna grabs stunned Hisao by the lapels of his jacket and pulls him closer across the counter. “If you are ready to settle this like a man, meet me outside.”

Hisao wrests himself from Sukuna’s hold and backs down, checking his nose for any fractures. “You are so dead for that, asshole.”

Hisao storms out of the building, his friends quick on his tale. Sukuna breathed out tiredly— this was not the way he expected to end the day, but he would never back down from a fight, especially from the one he picked himself, so he takes a glance at the bar and exits the facility.

The three soldiers wait for him outside the building, in the archway just a few meters away from the tavern. In a poorly lit space, Hisao paces around like a caged animal, and Sukuna has to suppress the chuckle that threatens to escape his lips — the sight is just way too amusing.

His body feels tense, nerves prickly with excitement for the fight — he is a simple man, after all — he enjoys a good beating down, and he didn’t get the chance to do that in quite some time, so he intends to savor it as much as possible. He approaches the group quietly, not to sneak up on them, but rather to not ruin the moment with useless talking.

“You showed up, huh? Didn’t run away with a tail between your legs?” Hisao spits, riling himself up.

Sukuna barks a laugh in response. It is so pathetic, yet so amusing, he couldn’t get enough of it. “Why would I? You are the one hiding between your friends’ backs.”

Hisao fumes, glued to his spot, his friends close by his side. They evaluate Sukuna, and look for the best way to approach their fight — it’s a good move on their part, they probably have enough experience working as a group, and their military training could be a bit of a problem, but…Well, no training could ever come close to what Sukuna experienced firsthand hand being an orphan on the streets, fighting through his adolescence.

“Are you going three on one?”

Instead of answering, the shortest man launches himself at Sukuna first, aiming at his face with his small fist. Sukuna reacts faster and throws a left hook in the man’s cheekbone, followed by a swift uppercut to the jaw, effectively knocking him out for good. Before others have a chance to make their move, Sukuna jumps at the mustache man, striking him with an elbow to his temple, stunning him before topping it with a knee strike to his abdomen. The man crumbles and slumps on the ground, and Sukuna steps away from him, smiling through the process.

“I expected a good battle, not a bunch of punching bags.” Sukuna taunts, looking down on two men sprawled on the pavement and turning his attention back to Hisao. “Surely you’ll put up a better fight with how big your talk was.”

Hisao says nothing, too stunned to speak — he probably expected Sukuna to be all bark and no bite — too bad, though, because ever since Sukuna learned the basics of street fighting, he won every single battle with unusual combinations of martial arts and tactics. He got a little rusty with time since he hasn’t had a proper fight for quite a while now, but he hasn’t stopped training, and his dedication and talent always make up for a lack of practice.

Hisao starts whispering inaudibly, slowly approaching Sukuna when he suddenly disappears into the shadows. Sukuna feels it seconds before Hisao reappears right behind him, aiming to topple him and finish the fight quickly.

Sukuna never had a chance to fight a magic user before, so he gets excited, albeit slightly nervous — he doesn’t know a thing about spells, and the extent of magical abilities Hisao possesses is unbeknownst to him. Thus he has to be more careful now — dying at the hands of this pathetic bastard would be the most humiliating thing in his life.

Sukuna side-steps him, aiming a punishing kick to his side, but the blow never lands, because Hisao disappears before arising from the darkness and throwing Sukuna on the ground. The pain from landing doesn’t divert his attention from the fight, Sukuna’s fully concentrated on his opponent now. He stands up promptly, bracing himself for the new attack — it is obvious that Hisao is hoping to wear Sukuna down with his technique. But Sukuna is nothing but not resilient.

“Bring the real fight on!” Sukuna demands loudly, wound up and high on adrenaline. “Or that party trick’s the only thing you can do?”

Hisao reappears instantly, blinded by his rage, and Sukuna uses the momentum to pluck him out of the shadow by his collar and throw a fist at his face. Thrown off by the pain, Hisao grunts, his head snapping back from the sheer force of Sukuna’s strike. Using his opponent’s confusion, Sukuna tosses him into the dimly lit corner of the archway and thrusts him into the wall.

“No one’s managed to get me on my back in a long time, I’ll give you that.” Sukuna hisses in Hisao’s face. “I’ll reward you with beating you up without crippling you too much.”

Hisao spits something incoherent in response, and before Sukuna gets to punch him again, his body freezes.

The atmosphere changes, almost as if the air itself thickens, and the hair on the back of Sukuna’s neck stands up, while his body grows cold.

There is another person in the archway.

Sukuna releases Hisao and turns around abruptly, meeting the most brilliant set of blue eyes he has ever seen in his life. The person is completely shrouded in the shadow, yet their eyes shine through it like two beacons in the middle of the dark ocean. Sukuna feels like these eyes draw him in, inviting him to drown in them completely, and he is almost compelled to do exactly that — to be fully enthralled by the most beautiful shade of blue on Earth.

The person steps forward, away from the shadows, and just like that, the magical moment is ruined, and the momentary weakness Sukuna had changes into tiredness — the air feels normal again, and Sukuna is slowly unwinding from the adrenaline high.

The man is taller than Sukuna. Not by much, five centimeters at best, but still taller, leaner, with long arms and legs, which, if it comes to that, would give him an advantage in a fight against Sukuna. He doubts the possibility of a fight, though — it’s not like the man is harmless, he is anything but, judging by the shift in energy caused by his arrival, and yet…

He doesn’t seem hostile, or mad. If anything, he looks deeply amused, and his eyes have this kind glint to them, almost like stars are dancing on the blue sky. His snow-white hair and almost angelic face throw Sukuna off. He never really paid attention to people’s looks, and never cared enough for others’ appearances, and here is this man, dangerously beautiful, and extremely powerful. Sukuna almost goes into another adrenaline overdrive when the man finally approaches him.

“It’s you!” He exclaims, hugging Sukuna by the shoulders with one hand, and using another to put on a blindfold.

Who needs to cover their eyes when it is already dark outside?

“I’ve been looking for you for ages.” The man whines and abruptly turns around to look at the other people, all lying on the ground in a differing state of consciousness.

“Gentlemen!” He calls out, and all three of them rise from the ground, almost as if awoken by some mysterious force, and bow their heads to him. “Care to explain what happened?”

“He challenged us to a fight!” Hisao, being the first one to come to his senses, blurts out.

The mysterious man nods his head, still holding Sukuna close by the shoulder. Sukuna tries to escape his embrace to the best of his ability, but the man only tightens his hold, and slumps on Sukuna’s shoulder, turning all of his attention to him. “You picked a fight?”

Sukuna scoffs in response and rolls his eyes. Hisao and his goons nod enthusiastically at that, trying to convince this man that Sukuna really did pick a fight with them.

“It’s not like I’m walking around town trying to harass strangers while they’re working.” Sukuna looks directly at Hisao. “That would be inappropriate, right?”

Hisao averts his gaze and stays silent, so the man Sukuna is held hostage by, chuckles. “So, not only were you harassing my friend here, but you also got into a fight with him.”

He brings a hand closer to his face and examines his perfectly manicured nails. Perfectly manicured nails on his perfect, long, and gaunt fingers.

Sukuna suppresses the urge to groan.

“And you lost. To a civilian, no less. It’s embarrassing, you know?” The man addresses Hisao and his company again. Sukuna doesn’t feel offended in the slightest — he knows that the jab isn’t intended for him. “I’m sure your boss would love to hear all about it.”

“Please, don’t! The general would dismiss us, and I have a family to provide for!” The mustache man is the first to react, bowing his head even lower in a pleading gesture.

The shortest man is next to surrender. “We apologize for engaging in a fight with your friend, Gojo-sama.”

He dismisses both of them with a wave of his unoccupied hand, sneering at them. “Why are you apologizing to me? I’m not the one who you were harassing.”

They turn their attention back to Sukuna and bow deeply, each one at a time. “We offer our deepest apologies to you, Sukuna-sama.”

“Yes, we are very sorry our actions brought you so much distress. And please forgive Hisao!”

Sukuna rolls his eyes in response. He doesn’t care for their apologies, and he doesn’t bother forgiving them. The man, Gojo, as they called him, nudges Sukuna with his shoulder, and he relents.

“I don’t care. Learn how to fight, you’re all weak.”

Hisao flinches, embarrassed even further, and just nods his head in response. His goons reserve to stay silent as well.

“If you are among the best fighters in the army, then our country is completely hopeless.” Sukuna spits out, feeling satisfied after some verbal humiliation, and smiles.

Gojo chuckles and turns to Sukuna. “You are merciless.”

Sukuna shrugs, agreeing with him. He won’t deny the obvious. “Yet I am fair.”

Gojo smiles even wider, tilts his head closer to Sukuna’s, and whispers. “I’m being followed.”

Sukuna turns his head, discreetly scanning the street for any signs of following, but notices nothing out of the ordinary. If anything, there are no people outside, the street is empty. He looks back at Gojo, and tilts his head questioningly, as if to ask, Where? And What do you want me to do about it?

Gojo smiles as he releases his hold of Sukuna’s shoulder, and offers a hand to him instead. “I have to get away from here, wanna come with?”

Sukuna stalls for a moment, not sure what to do or how to react — he is curious about Gojo, but something tells him that it won’t end well for him. Also, he still has no idea what is happening. He has too many questions at this point, and he knows that the only person who could possibly answer them is Gojo, so… Against his better judgment, he takes Gojo’s hand, and the man smiles, pleased by Sukuna’s decision.

He guides Sukuna out of the archway and into the narrow street ahead. They walk like that, hands intertwined, and Sukuna feels very confused by whatever is happening at the moment.

Walking beside the sorcerer, Sukuna notices how unusual their pair must look to other people. They are, quite literally, polar opposites. Gojo’s glowing white hair against his jet black; his sky-blue topaz eyes against the darkest shade of brown in Sukuna’s irises. The difference in their height and build. Gojo breathes magic, his entire being is imbued with it. He moves differently from others, his body flows through space seamlessly. Sukuna is an ordinary human being, with no flair for sorcery whatsoever.

He’s never felt as much difference between himself and another person before as he does now, even though he knows a couple of people with a penchant for sorcery. It makes him feel a little self-conscious.

“So, Sukuna?” Gojo asks, tilting his head slightly, his striking blue eyes darting from Sukuna’s face to the street. “It’s a very rare name. Very powerful in meaning, too.”

Sukuna smirks at his attempt at small talk, and tugs his arm in the direction of a square, suggesting they go there. “They called you Gojo. Talk about meaning.”

“Gojo’s a family name.” He responds, looking around, and directs them further away from the square and busy streets.

“Why did you stop me back there?” Sukuna asks, curious to know what Gojo was getting out of it — he didn’t seem concerned for the soldiers, but they knew him. Is he serving in the army, too? In the higher ranks, perhaps.

“I didn’t do it for them.” Gojo states simply. Before Sukuna has a chance to speak, he continues. “You don’t want to go to jail, do you? ‘Cause Hisao would report you and get you arrested for assault.”

“He’s a coward.” Sukuna responds matter-of-factly.

“That, he is.” Gojo agrees. “And I’m not in the army, in case you were wondering.”

Sukuna gulps down, surprised by how perceptive Gojo is, but refusing to acknowledge it. He’s seen enough cheap tricks today. “I wasn’t.”

Gojo turns his head in Sukuna’s direction and grins, looking skeptical but amused by Sukuna’s little lie. “Sure.”

“I’m se-”

“We haven’t lost them yet. Change of plans.” Gojo interrupts him and stops abruptly, looking up at the sky. “You think you can run for a bit?”

“Do I look like an old man to you?” Sukuna grumbles, annoyed by Gojo’s stupid question. “Of course, I can run.”

Gojo lets go of his palm, tracing the tips of his fingers up Sukuna’s wrist until he finds the crook of his elbow, and hugs it with his hand. “Hang tight.”

Before Sukuna even has the capacity to process what just happened, Gojo is already running, pulling Sukuna along, so he has to pick up his speed to keep up with the man in front of him. Running with his hand intertwined with Gojo’s is a little uncomfortable, but not unpleasant in the slightest, so Sukuna laughs as he catches Gojo looking at him, and relishes the feeling of freedom he is having in the moment.

“You’re doing great!” Gojo praises, and Sukuna smiles as the warm summer wind blows in his face. “Just don’t look down.”

He doesn’t look down, but he glances to his right and sees the palace, a beautiful temple not far from it, and the building he lives in, from a bird’s-eye view.

Sukuna stumbles over nothing and grabs Gojo’s hand tighter. There is no ground underneath his feet. He and that Gojo bastard are breaking the laws of physics by running on thin air.

“Shouldn’t have said that, sorry!” Gojo chuckles and casts a glance at Sukuna. “Don’t worry, just don’t let go of my hand and I won’t let you fall.”

Sukuna ignores him in favor of looking around, watching people from the air, and enjoying a feeling of lightness shooting through his body. He is not nervous in the slightest, which is weird, because Gojo could simply just let him fall. Sukuna is not known for putting blind faith in total strangers thanks to years spent living in the streets, but here he is, now walking by sheer faith. His lack of concern concerns him even more than the fact that he could, potentially, die.

“Aren’t you scared?” Gojo asks incredulously. When Sukuna meets his gaze, he looks intrigued. For some reason, it feels nice to be seen by him.

“Scared? Me? Are you kidding?” Sukuna laughs openly, overwhelmed by emotions for the first time in many, many years, and throws his free arm in the air. “It’s a dream!”

Gojo smiles at him gently and slows down before stopping completely. “You are a very curious man, Sukuna.”

Sukuna looks at him and rolls his eyes. “Says you.”

“Me? What about me?” Gojo asks fake shy, fishing for compliments.

Sukuna pretends not to notice that.

“You appear out of thin air, ruin my fight by threatening a bunch of goons, take me to run around town like a fool, and then proceed to go flying in the sky.” Sukuna recollects, bending his fingers with each mentioned point. “Did I miss anything?”

Gojo pretends to think about it before answering. “How wildly attractive I am!”

Sukuna sneers. “I said what I said.”

Gojo pouts, dropping his head down, and sighs dramatically. “And here I thought I was completely bewitching.”

Sukuna feels perplexed because Gojo is not wrong at all, but he wouldn’t agree with him regardless, so he uses his unoccupied hand to lightly shove him in the chest. “Come on, let’s get going.”

Gojo snaps out of it and looks around. “Seems like we got rid of them. Where do you live?”

Sukuna points in the general direction of his house and looks at Satoru curiously. “Are you gonna walk me there?”

Satoru meets his gaze and smiles slyly. “Would you rather have me let you go right now? ‘Cause you’ll fall.”

“No.” Sukuna mumbles. “Let’s just go.”

“Imagine walking down the stairs.” Gojo instructs, leading Sukuna by the hand. “We won’t run this time.”

Sukuna follows him silently, looking down at the city beneath them. He quite enjoys the view. Being on top of everything suddenly stirs something long forgotten inside his mind, and he finds himself savoring the feeling.

He doesn’t have any memories of his early childhood, so the nostalgia is very confusing. He couldn’t even remember his parents, for God’s sake — let alone being so high in the sky.

His first memory was of him, fighting with a bunch of stray kids of his age. He doesn’t remember why they were fighting, though — almost all of his early memories are like that — small pieces of something bigger, little meaningless fragments of his life, completely useless without context. Sometimes he thinks that they’re not even his.

“You’re really good at this.” Gojo looks back and smiles at him, appearing ethereal against the dark sky, his pale skin and white hair glowing in the moonlight.

“At walking?” Sukuna asks unnecessarily, knowing exactly what he means, but still deciding to mess with the sorcerer.

Gojo chuckles and looks away. “Even I had trouble walking on air the first time I tried. You’re a natural.”

Sukuna huffs at the praise and picks up his pace. “How do you do that, anyway?”

“I use magic, Sukuna.”

“That much is obvious.” He growls, displeased with the answer. “What exactly do you do with your magic?”

Gojo hums thoughtfully. “I can’t go around telling my secrets, can I?”

“Did anybody else ever ask you that?”

“You’re the first person I’ve ever taken up the sky with me, so — no.” Gojo smiles. “Not many people know I can do that in the first place.” After a short pause, he adds. “And those who do know are all sorcerers. They probably can do the same, so they never asked.”

Sukuna studies Gojo carefully, before letting the topic go — he isn’t sure what to say to that, or if he even wants to say anything at all. It is painfully obvious that other sorcerers are no match to Gojo in terms of power, and he doesn’t know a lot of sorcerers to confidently say that, but… Somehow, he just knows that Gojo is different from everybody else — he wouldn’t have attracted Sukuna’s attention if he was an average nobody.

“There is an awful lot of sorcerers around nowadays.” Sukuna says, staring directly at Gojo. “Is there a reason for that?”

“There might be.” Gojo shrugs nonchalantly. “But I can’t tell you that.”

Sukuna thinks for a moment, piecing everything together in his head. “Is that because of the war?”

Gojo’s grip on his hand tightens as he looks away and stares into the sky above them. “I don’t want to lie to you, but I also can’t tell you the truth.”

Sukuna nods, understanding the implications — the sorcerer can’t share the information with Sukuna because he is a civilian. He doesn’t fight and he is not in the military.

He might’ve been spot on about sorcerers in the army, though — they possess great powers and could be utilized in a battle against ordinary humans. Gojo could probably take down the entire army if the energy around him is reflective of his powers.

“Every kingdom has a pet sorcerer nowadays.” Gojo says offhandedly and takes Sukuna’s palm in his.

Lost in his thoughts, he completely missed the moment they landed on the balcony beside his apartment. His eyes widen at the familiar sight, unable to comprehend how Gojo knew exactly where to go.

Gojo smirks at him knowingly and takes a few steps back, letting his hand go and resting his lower back against the railing. “I guess I can put a couple of party tricks to use.”

Sukuna choked on nothing, realizing that he never said anything of that sort out loud, which would only mean that Gojo could read his mind, and that…Sukuna doesn’t let himself spiral at the idea that the sorcerer heard his thoughts about how beautiful he looked in the fucking moonlight.

“And whose pet sorcerer you are?” Sukuna changes the subject before Gojo has a chance to say something else.

“Wanna know a secret?” Gojo approaches him in one quick step and tucks a strand of black hair behind his ear, smiling throughout the process. He whispers. “I am the strongest, so I belong to no one.”

Sukuna tilts his head to whisper back to him. Gojo’s soft hair touches Sukuna’s cheek and the sensation gives him goosebumps all over. “If you are the strongest, why are you running away?”

In the blink of an eye, the sorcerer is already standing on the railing and waving at Sukuna. His posture is stiff, demeanor is no longer playful and lighthearted. His facial expression is serious and contemplating, his warm blue eyes now ice cold. It almost looks like he gets ready for a fight.

“Don’t get in trouble, Su-ku-na.”

As his tall figure swiftly disappears into the darkness of the unlit street ahead, Sukuna realizes a couple of things — first, he is smiling like an idiot. Second, he didn’t get an answer. There are still so many unanswered questions that his head is going to explode.

“You too, Gojo.”

Unsure if the sorcerer heard that, Sukuna comes closer to the railing and looks up at the sky. Taking a moment to reflect on the day, he places his hands on the metal railing and rests his head on top of them. The evening turned out way more eventful than he expected it to be, but he definitely can’t complain. If anything, he looks forward to meeting Gojo again — somehow, he is certain they will see each other soon.

Stars flicker on the cloudless sky as if confirming Sukuna’s thoughts.

At night, in the comfort of thin blankets, he dreams of a starfall in the middle of the moonlit flowery field. In this dream, his heart aches at the sight, as if remembering it lost something of great importance.

Chapter Text

When Sukuna arrives at the tavern the next day, it is not yet opened. Still, Miwa and Lady Mori are already sitting there, discussing gossip circulating through the city.

Miwa is gushing about her date with an apprentice sorcerer from the academy. Sukuna overhears some of it but doesn’t care enough to eavesdrop. He knows too much about Muta already. He seems like an okay person. Although he is kinda boring and definitely not in Sukuna’s taste, he is good for Miwa. And since Miwa found herself a partner, Lady Mori finally has something to discuss that doesn’t concern Sukuna and his non-existent love life. Truly, thank God for that — one more lecture about his personal life or, rather, lack thereof, and Sukuna would start getting violent with an old woman.

He knows she means well, she usually comes from a good place, but her pestering tends to get quite annoying. Also, her matchmaking skills are downright diabolical — a month ago, she set up her friend’s granddaughter with Sukuna. Their meeting ended in two minutes, with a girl running away in tears, and a whole new conversation about how hopeless Sukuna is. Which he isn’t, like, at all.

Sukuna’s got a dozen marriage proposals throughout his adult years, but he just never cared enough to agree. He’d never marry a shallow person who only cared about appearances, and most of his admirers were exactly that — shallow losers. Sukuna demands a challenge. He wants an equal in strength and spirit, a kindred soul, and he would never agree with a consolation prize. Not that he is actively looking for a relationship or anything. No matter what Lady Mori and Uraume say about it, Sukuna does not feel lonely or incomplete without romance in his life — he is mostly fine as he is, thank you very much.

Maybe, just maybe, a tiny part of him feels a little lonely sometimes. And perhaps it’d feel nice to be understood by somebody special. But since there is no special someone right now, he sees no point ruminating over it. Sukuna is deeply lost in his thoughts when he suddenly overhears Lady Mori.

“You should be careful, young lady.” She whispers. “Rumor has it, Gojo’s returned to the city.”

Sukuna stops in his tracks, suddenly becoming very interested in the conversation.

“Granny Mori, it’s okay, I promise! Muta walked me home and I wasn’t alone.” Miwa moans, laying her head on the table.

“Sweet girl, you know what they say about that man!” Lady Mori takes Miwa by the hand and gives it a light squeeze.

Miwa nods and murmurs. “He eats hearts.”

Sukuna scoffs and Lady Mori turns around slowly, focusing her unsteady gaze on Sukuna.

“Sukuna, I didn’t know you were here already!” Miwa jumps up to greet him. “How did your yesterday shift go?”

“You should stop allowing those old farts to put their drinks on the tab.” Sukuna reprimands instead of answering her question. “They owe your gran a fortune already.”

Miwa bites her lower lip and smiles weakly. “I just feel bad for saying no to them, you know?”

Lady Mori stands up slowly, her knees shaking a little with every movement. “Sukuna, you too should be more careful with that Gojo sorcerer.”

“What does it have to do with me?”

“You are a beautiful young man! He might be interested in your heart.” Lady Mori scolds him while fixing her glasses and picking up her cane.

“You are going senile, old bat!”

“Just because I’m old doesn’t mean I won’t be able to whoop your ass, you brat!” Lady Mori shouts, wigging her cane in Sukuna’s direction. “You just come closer!”

So, Sukuna has met the strongest sorcerer alive and had a cute little talk while casually strolling through the air. Huh.

“He wasn’t all that bad, though…” Sukuna muses out loud and pours himself a glass of water.

“Oh goodness, Sukuna!” Miwa gasps and rushes over to him, ready to comfort him if necessary.

“Has he done anything to you?” Lady Mori adds, looking him up and down, searching for any signs of physical abuse. Upon seeing his bruised knuckles, she gasps audibly, thin eyebrows raised high on her wrinkly face. “Did you have a fistfight with him?”

“Did you two hit your head or something?” Sukuna mutters, uncomfortable with their extensive attention. “I wouldn’t be getting in a fistfight with a sorcerer!”

“You foolish boy!” Lady Mori hits him in the back of his head weakly, without any real intent to hurt him. “He is not an ordinary sorcerer.”

“People say that he gave his heart to the demon in exchange for power.” Miwa takes his palm in her hand and examines his knuckles.

“People say a lot of shit.” Sukuna cuts Miwa off, uninterested in continuing the conversation. “Can you drop it already?”

“Who did you get in a fight with?” Miwa asks, changing the topic.

“A bunch of assholes who were getting on my nerves.” Sukuna doesn’t mention that they were from the military because he doesn’t want to give these two another reason to worry for him. “Gojo was not one of them.”

“Was he nice to you?” Lady Mori asks quietly, not letting go of their previous conversation. Stubborn woman.

“He was alright.” Sukuna concedes, hoping that the discussion would end on that note.

“Is he really as beautiful as people say he is?” Miwa chimes in, eager for any details about the mysterious sorcerer.

“Yes.” Sukuna nods, unwilling to elaborate further. “Is that all?”

“I’ve never heard you admit that someone is attractive!” Miwa chuckles lightheartedly and winks at him. “Are you sure he didn’t steal your heart?”

“Oh dear, it’s about time our Sukuna fancied someone!” Lady Mori gloats, no longer worried about Gojo and his daunting reputation.

“You are driving me crazy with this conversation.” Sukuna mutters, not at all embarrassed. “I’m going out to catch up with a friend. I’ll be back in time for the shift.”

“Tell Uraume we said hi.” Miwa coos joyfully.

He sighs tiredly, completely drained after their conversation.

He is meeting with Uraume in ten minutes, and he hopes that spending some time with an old friend will put him back in shape. At the very least, Uraume is actually respectful of his boundaries and never gives unsolicited opinions — Sukuna is truly grateful for that. They are his oldest friend, and perhaps the only person Sukuna would willingly subject himself to spend his free time with.

Of course, sometimes — very rarely, actually — he would hang out with Miwa after shifts at the tavern. She is so different from Sukuna and Uraume — with her outlook on life being more optimistic — her attitude is a nice change from their familiar nihilistic approach. He wouldn’t call her a close friend like Uraume, but she is a friend, even though she is his polar opposite.

And then there is Lady Mori — an elderly woman who has taken the role of caring grandmother upon herself with both Miwa and Sukuna — it was mostly unwelcome, but… It felt nice to be cared about, and since Sukuna had no immediate family, he accepted Lady Mori as his overbearing grandma. He would never admit that out loud, though.

“You seem to be in a good mood today.” Uraume states instead of greeting. They are sitting on the bench, feet barely touching the ground, their magenta eyes lighting up upon seeing Sukuna.

“It’s the opposite.” Sukuna snaps out of his thoughts and waves them off. “That old bat and Miwa have been riding my ass for half an hour straight.”

Uraume chuckles, covering their mouth with a hand. “You say that, but you’re still smiling. What’s going on?”

“I met that sorcerer everyone’s been talking about.” Sukuna explains and sits down beside Uraume. “And they were pestering me about it.”

Uraume nods, unfazed. “They must be really worried about you.”

“You don’t seem worried, though.” Sukuna notes and tilts his head on the back of the bench.

“Should I be?” Uraume asks, looking Sukuna in the eyes. “I can’t feel any magical influence on you.”

“They said he could steal my heart. Not metaphorically, by the way.” Sukuna groans, recounting the conversation with his coworkers. “‘Cause I’m all young and handsome.”

“You are, indeed, very handsome, Sukuna.” His friend smiles and shakes their head, their white hair falling on the pale face. “But sorcerers don’t steal hearts. Magic doesn’t work that way. It’s just a stupid rumor.”

“I get it.” He rolls his eyes and sits up. “Is he really the strongest sorcerer?”

Uraume gives it a thought before answering, fixing their hair in the process. “He is said to be the honored one, blessed with a strength unknown to any man.”

Sukuna nods thoughtfully. He doesn’t doubt it — Gojo’s presence alone put Sukuna on edge, and his body never reacted like that to anyone. Sukuna just wasn’t sure that he was all that powerful, but…Even Uraume, a very capable sorcerer in their own right, recognizes Gojo for what he is — the strongest magic user alive. The honored one.

“He doesn’t have the best reputation.” Uraume adds with a small smile. “How did you meet him?”

As Sukuna recounted the previous night’s events, Uraume’s face changed from mildly interested to slightly annoyed, and then to extremely invested. When Sukuna mentioned Gojo taking him home, Uraume smiled gently and put their delicate hand on his shoulder.

“It seems that you caught his interest.” Uraume states while squeezing his shoulder lightly.

“Absolutely not.” Sukuna scoffed in response and groaned when he felt his face slightly heating up.

“From what I know about him, Gojo doesn’t usually get involved in other people’s business. And he doesn’t show advanced magic skills to just anyone.” Uraume insists. “So, I’d say you are quite special, my friend.”

Sukuna doesn’t respond to that. He knows better than to argue with them — they can be greatly stubborn when they want to be. Especially, when it came to uplifting Sukuna.

“And I’m glad to see you happy. It suits you well.” Uraume concludes, standing up. They adjust their black haori and nod to Sukuna. “Should we take a walk before you leave?”

As Uraume started walking, Sukuna followed them silently, not sure what to say to their comments about his happiness. He doesn't know if he could attribute it to meeting Gojo, but he sure plays some role in this. There is just something about him… Sukuna doesn’t know where to place him.

____________________________________________

Early evenings on working days never really get busy, so Sukuna has at least two hours until more customers come to the tavern to have drinks. He usually spends his free time reading books he lends from Lady Mori’s library, even though most of them are stupid romantic novels or shitty detectives. He recently started War and Peace, a book he never expected he would want to read, but came to enjoy quite a lot.

Today, however, was not a good day for reading — Sukuna couldn’t concentrate on Andrei Bolkonskiy’s inner monologues, his thoughts were drifting away from the story, focusing on himself instead.

He is still fixated on that feeling of deja vu he got the day before when he was up in the sky with Gojo. It’s impossible to place it, to figure out where it came from, and having no memories of his childhood years unsurprisingly doesn’t help the matter. He heard people say that the feeling of deja vu is connected with past lives and reincarnations, but he isn’t sure he believes it. It just seems too convenient to explain something unknown with some mysterious concepts like souls reincarnating in different bodies throughout existence.

Not remembering his past never bothered him before, but the more he thinks of it, the weirder it seems to him. One of Lady Mori’s friends said he must have experienced trauma, and that is why he doesn’t remember his childhood. It makes no sense to Sukuna, though. No trauma is capable of erasing fourteen years of his life like they didn’t even exist in the first place. He can’t recall his family name, how his mother looked, or the sound of his father’s voice. He thought he might have never met his parents -- he was an orphan, after all -- but he doesn’t remember being in the orphanage either. His first childhood memory is of him, fourteen years of age, fighting on the streets.

From that point on, he remembers meeting Lady Etsu, his late caregiver, at the age of sixteen. He’d been working odd jobs that only covered food expenses. Sometimes, he could even afford bedding in some lousy hostels. Some jobs provided places for him to live in, but those were usually crowded and suffocating. Most of the time, he lived on the streets, spending his nights working in the taverns or brothels as a guard. Those places never cared about his age, they only saw his physical strength and ability to handle himself in a fight. And since fighting was his specialty, he was quite successful in his guarding career, spending nights in places where normal teenagers didn't belong. During the day, he would help some vendors on the market, go fishing with fishermen, or assist in the local library.

And then came Lady Etsu. He remembers bumping into her while carrying a heavy sack of cabbages to one of the stalls on the market. She started asking him a bunch of stupid questions, to which he replied honestly, not bothering with lying to a stranger. She took pity on him, the fact that he resents to this day because pity is for the weak — and offered to adopt him. He rejected it, of course, but that old bat was as stubborn as they come and started visiting him daily. After a month or so, Sukuna finally relented and agreed to live with her. It didn’t happen overnight — it took a lot of time for Sukuna to start spending his time in her mansion, to start trusting her enough to accept her help. When the last of his walls fell, he moved in completely and quit his nightly shifts in places not meant for people his age.

He never came through with the adoption and didn’t care enough to have a family name, even though hers would have given him some benefits in life — she was an old noblewoman, unmarried and childless, but she had connections and a bunch of friends in high places. She was poor, though, but most of the noblemen were just the same, big names, rich houses, and dire financial situations. Still, she took good care of Sukuna. For the first time in his life, he had a place he could, albeit reluctantly, call home. She took him to the doctors, she educated him, and she taught him manners. He couldn’t dream of repaying his debt to her in this lifetime.

It wasn’t always easy with the two of them. She was old-fashioned, sometimes way too stubborn for her own good, and liked sticking her nose in Sukuna’s business. They had a lot of fights, especially in the last years of her life. He regrets it now, but back then, freshly nineteen and stupidly selfish, he rejected her company and resented her for her meddling in his life.

They managed to make amends before her passing, but Sukuna still wishes he could change the way he acted in the past. She was a good person with a shitty luck, and she managed to find the most troublesome child to take care of. She didn’t deserve his rage and his teenage rebellion.
Sukuna didn’t inherit anything, with her mansion being sold to some rich nobodies to pay off her debt. Still, she left him some money to waste as he wished, so he spent it all on her funeral because she deserved at least that much. She would’ve kicked his ass for that, but she was dead, and Sukuna was alone, so he threw her the most lavish funeral.

To this day, six years later, he still visits her grave at least once a week and brings her a bunch of her favorite flowers. Six years later, he still hasn’t stopped mourning her death. She was the first person in his life to teach him kindness, empathy, and compassion. He treasures every memory of her.

Every moment after that is perfectly clear in his mind. He remembers meeting and befriending Uraume; remembers securing a job at the tavern, getting to know Miwa and Lady Mori; remembers a bunch of stupid fights with customers; remembers every single speck of light in the iris of Gojo’s astonishing blue eyes.

And he still can’t recall any memory from his childhood years. No matter how hard he tries, or how much he wants, there is only darkness, almost as if he didn’t exist until that fight on the street, eleven years ago. It is quite depressing. It is also very suspicious. He knows for a fact that he is exceptionally healthy. Any possible brain damage that causes such severe memory loss would have some long-lasting consequences. But there is none. He might ask Uraume about it. Maybe magic is involved.

He doesn’t know who would need to curse a child, though. And why.

This thought lingers in his mind when he leaves for the bathroom. It’s nine o’clock, but there are not a lot of people in the tavern, and they all seem calm enough to be left unsupervised for a couple of minutes.

When he returns to his post, Miwa approaches him, asking Sukuna to go to the kitchen to help her. It’s a proven tactic for when their customers start hitting on her and making her uncomfortable. He follows her wordlessly, suspecting that it is happening again.

“Sukuna, a man came asking about you.” She whispers, gripping his wrist tightly. “He looks super weird. I have a bad feeling about this.”

“Where is he?” Sukuna asks, trying to peek through the small window on the kitchen door.

“He left.” Miwa says, coming closer to him to look in the window herself. “He just asked about you, I told him you’re not here, and he left.”

Sukuna nods, turning his attention back to her. “Was he dressed in the military uniform?”

Miwa shakes her head, “He was wearing a tattered cape.” She gasps upon processing Sukuna’s question. “Did you get in trouble with the military?”

“It’s whatever.” Sukuna reassures, confident that Hisao and his goons wouldn’t dare to return after Gojo’s intervention.

Miwa breathes out slowly, trying not to panic. “Okay. So, he had grey skin, a weird cape and he was really short.” She levels her hand just below her shoulder. “This short. He is, like, ancient. And also had a cane.”

Sukuna furrows his brow, trying to remember ever seeing a man who fit this description. “I’ve never met someone like this.”

Miwa pushes past the doors, leaving the kitchen. “Stay here for a while. I’ll let you know if he returns.”

Sukuna glances back at the hall. He doesn’t feel like hiding in the kitchen, he has to seek that man and find out why he was looking for Sukuna.

He leaves the tavern using the back door, and goes to the front of the building, looking for a mysterious man. When his search doesn’t lead to anything, Sukuna returns to the back door, deciding that Miwa must’ve misunderstood the situation. Maybe he was looking for his friend, who was also named Sukuna — stuff like that happens a lot. Not to him, though. He has a very rare name. But it doesn’t mean that he’s the only person bearing this name.

He feels eyes on his back and turns abruptly. Standing in the corner, just between two buildings, is the man Miwa warned him about. His face is obscured by the shadows, but even from afar, Sukuna could see his short form and bizarre, colorful clothing. He comes out from the shadows, using a cane to walk over to Sukuna.

His skin looks grayish, and he appears quite old. Miwa was pretty spot-on with his description. He also seems to only have one good eye, another one closed shut, as he tilts his head up to look Sukuna in the eyes.

“The resemblance is uncanny.” The man muses out loud, coming closer to him. “You truly never change.”

Sukuna looks down on him, confused by the entire situation. “Have you mistaken me for somebody else?”

The man laughs in response, a low rubble deep in his diaphragm. “How far have you fallen?”

Sukuna grins sharply, his mood turning sour in a heartbeat. “What the fuck are you talking about, old man?”

He makes no move to leave, giving Sukuna a once-over instead. “Living such a pointless life. I will release you from the confines.”

Before Sukuna could respond, an old man rushes into him, bulldozing his way through, and knocks Sukuna off his feet. His body falls on the pavement and the back of his head hits the steps.

His corpus hurts and his head is spinning from hitting the ground. His eyelids feel very heavy and his consciousness is slipping away from him. Unable to will his numb body to move, Sukuna lies on the ladder, the tavern's back door right behind him. The last thing he catches is the old man, bowing deeply to him.

“Send Gojo Satoru my regards.”

And then there is nothing.

_________________________________________

After some time, God knows how long he was out of it, Sukuna wakes up. The street lamps are still shining dimly, and the moon hangs low on the cloudy night sky.

Sukuna tries to get up, but his body feels all wrong, too heavy, his limbs hurt, and his vision doubles — he probably has a concussion from falling over. He is so tired, and he’d really like to go to bed right now, but technically he is still at work, and he is on the street, lying on the porch like a pile of drunk trash.

He closes his eyes, trying to blink the double vision away, but when he opens them, it is still blurry and doubled, and his eyes hurt from straining so much. He looks down and focuses on his legs, and he almost loses consciousness again — his legs look massive, significantly wider, and longer than they were before, and he fears he is having a hallucination. He hopes he can sleep it off.

He stands up and looks at his hands. Unsurprisingly, his arms look bigger, too. They are more muscular, with veins popping out on his wrists and biceps, and they have some weird tattoos on them. Sukuna doesn’t’ have the mental capacity to care even in the slightest — he is just so bone tired, that he really wants to head home. Panic could wait until the morning. He still hopes it is just a hallucination caused by his concussion, though.

Sukuna still needs to notify Miwa or Lady Mori, so he makes his way back to the kitchen. When he approaches Lady Mori, who is busy with cooking, he calls out to her. She turns her head towards him, but upon seeing him, she screams in fear and picks up a kitchen knife.

“Go away, scum!” She starts swatting her knife at him, looking panicked and ready to fight to death. “Who are you and what are you doing here?”

“Are you crazy, old bat?” Sukuna shouts, confused by the entire interaction. “It’s me, Sukuna!”

“Sukuna? Is that really you?” Lady Mori’s face is scrunched in concern as she approaches him, knife lowered, but still clutched tightly in her fist. “What happened to you?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Sukuna,” She starts, gulping down. Takes another long look at him. “Have you seen yourself?”

“Of course, I’ve seen myself.”

She takes his hand wordlessly and leads him to the staff bathroom. When Sukuna catches his reflection in the hanging mirror, he gasps audibly, suddenly nauseous. His body is, indeed, bigger. He is taller, more muscular, his eyes are bright red and his hair is pink now. Not the jet-black he is so used to seeing, but light-pink, like a sakura tree blossom. The craziest change, though, is the tattoos and the scars. He’s got two symmetric crescent moon-shaped scars under his eyes, and his entire body is covered in some weird tattoos.

Lady Mori breaks the silence by whispering, “Sukuna, what happened to you?”.

Sukuna snaps out of his trance and turns away from the mirror. “I-” He has a strong desire to weep, but he takes hold of his emotions and breathes out heavily. “I have no idea.”

Lady Mori scans him attentively, taking in all of the visual cues. “I can sense a strong magic from you, boy.” She takes his hand in hers and looks at his palm. “I’m afraid that somebody cursed you.”

Sukuna nods mindlessly, his eyes shutting tiredly. He is so exhausted he doesn’t even have enough energy to process what Lady Mori is saying.

“You should go home. I’ll tell Miwa that you feel sick.” She places a hand on his shoulder and gives it a light squeeze. “Visit Uraume in the morning. I’m sure they’ll help you figure this out.”

Sukuna heads home, just as he was told. Pliant and agreeable, so unlike his usual self. He wants to rest so badly. There are no thoughts in his head; silence accompanies him throughout his journey home. It feels good to be this numb. When the morning comes, he will feel like hell, so a little comfort definitely wouldn't hurt.

He falls asleep as soon as his head touches the pillow. Still fully clothed, covered in dust from the pavement he spent so much time lying on, Sukuna succumbs to the deepest slumber in his life.

His sleep is blissfully dreamless at first, but as the night progresses, he dreams of pained screams, bloodshed, and ritual pyres in the middle of the village.

Chapter Text

The next morning comes too fast for Sukuna’s liking – he doesn’t feel rested enough, and his body is still suspiciously sore. It is almost like he is having a terrible hangover. Except, he didn’t drink. He is completely sober, yet his mind is still foggy and his vision is unclear.

Hoping to feel better, Sukuna goes to the shower, avoiding any surfaces that can mirror his reflection. He could not bear to see himself right now.

Under the warm spray of tap water, Sukuna tries to prepare himself to face his reflection in the mirror. He vaguely remembers seeing himself yesterday and feeling an intense sense of dread and terror from watching how much his body had changed. No matter how much he doesn’t want to look at himself, he still needs to catalog every little change and report it to Uraume.

Mentally, he is still himself, albeit unnaturally tired. Weak. He hasn’t felt himself like that for over a decade. It is the most concerning thing for him.
Physically, he is bigger, taller, and more muscular. The color of his hair and eyes changed, he has some weird tattoos, two symmetrical scars under his eyes, and dark purple nails.

When he washes himself, he discovers a new scar—a huge horizontal line on his abdomen. It does not look infected or irritated—just an old, poorly healed pale pink scar, the same color as his hair and lips.

This lack of body autonomy is awful – Sukuna hates not feeling in control, and having no control over his own body and how it looks sends a wave of desperation he can’t shake off. He doesn’t feel like himself. Like he exists in a vessel that does not belong to him. This new body is alien to him.

He gets out of the shower and dries himself, turning his back to the small mirror hanging above the sink. He does not want to face his new reflection. If he could avoid it, he would. If he could turn back time and not meet that weird old man, he would, his pride and bravery be damned. He should’ve just listened to Miwa and stayed in the kitchen.

Sukuna gets mad at himself for having these thoughts. What is done is done, and there is absolutely no point in beating himself up over it.

Sukuna braces himself as he approaches the tall mirror in the bedroom, eyes shut tightly. His mind is blissfully quiet for once, no thoughts cloud his conscience. When he opens his eyes, he breathes out shakily. Seeing himself bare naked, Sukuna examines the reflection thoroughly. His body has changed so much, it feels surreal. Logically, Sukuna knows that he is still himself, but this person in the mirror does not look like him at all.

Coming closely, he takes an attentive look at his face, not noticing any significant changes apart from the scars and tattoos. His facial features are thankfully still his. It’s a huge relief to still have at least a tiny part of himself.

He gets dressed and heads to Uraume. Hopefully, they are still at home and could see him without prior notice.

The walk is short, but unfortunately not uneventful. Lost in his thoughts, Sukuna bumps into a small group of kids. They start apologizing earnestly, but when they see his face, they scream fearfully and scatter, running away and yelling curses at him. They probably think that he is an evil sorcerer or something. He isn’t bothered by them, but it feels uncomfortable to be this scary to other people. He still has to go to work. He wants to get back to his regular life where he was a normal-looking person, existing in a bubble with his close circle. He also has a brief thought about Gojo not recognizing him, but he cuts it off shortly – he doesn’t have time to think about him right now.

He knocks on Uraume’s door, shifting restlessly. He hopes Uraume recognizes him. He can’t blame them if they don’t.

There is a sound from behind the door, soft steps echoing in their small apartment, wooden floors creaking quietly. As the sound approaches the door, Sukuna breathes out to calm himself.

Uraume opens the door, not even looking at him. “How can I help you?”

“Uraume-” Sukuna croaks, feeling disappointment wash over him.

“Sukuna?” Uraume interrupts him, looking him up and down disbelievingly.

Sukuna nods in response, unable to produce a single sound.

Uraume flings open the door, gesturing for him to enter. Sukuna steps in hesitantly, unsure where to go. They squeeze his forearm, giving him a little comfort, and lead him to the living room.

“Somebody cursed you.” Uraume states confidently.

Sukuna shrugs weakly. “I don’t know.”

“It was not a question.” Uraume explains, and crouches in front of the neatly organized bookshelf, looking for something. “You reek with potent magic, my friend.”

Sukuna stays silent, unsure how to respond to them. He is not surprised. Right now, he doesn’t feel anything.

“It is a very strong curse.” Uraume returns to the couch and sits down beside him. “Unfortunately, I am not capable of lifting it.”

“It’s a helpless case, isn’t it?” Sukuna whispers, feeling powerless and uselessly gloomy.

“Not necessarily.” Uraume rests their open palms on the knees and straightens out the fabric of their kimono. It is their nervous tick. “But you wouldn’t like what I have to say.”

Sukuna looks their way expectantly, waiting for them to continue.

Uraume turns to him to face Sukuna directly before speaking. “I think that you should go to Gojo and ask for his help.”

“No.” Sukuna cuts them off because he does not want to listen to their reasoning.

“Sukuna-” Uraume starts again, but Sukuna shuts them off by standing up abruptly.

“No, Uraume.” Sukuna raises his voice as he starts pacing around the room nervously. “I will not go to Gojo.”

“It’s not the time to be prideful-”

“It’s not about pride!”

“What is it about, then?” Uraume stands up, looking downright menacing as they approach him in three short steps. “We don’t know how that curse’s going to affect you!”

“I won’t go to Gojo, Uraume.” He breathes out tiredly and sidesteps Uraume. “Let’s not argue over this. You are not changing my mind.”

Uraume rolls their eyes, irritated with his stubbornness, but concedes. “Then you don’t have a choice. I can’t help you.”

Sukuna sits back on the couch and considers his options. “And if I find that person who cursed me?”

Uraume furrows their brows and looks down on their feet. “It is possible, but not easily achievable.”

Sukuna nods, encouraging them to continue. If there is even the slightest chance, he will take it.

“I know of the place called the Badlands. It’s outside the city.” Uraume says quietly. “A lot of sorcerers are living in there, so you might find the one you are looking for.”

Sukuna stays silent, absorbing the information given to him. He will go to Badlands, it’s decided.

“But it is a dangerous place, Sukuna.” Uraume hurries to add, picking up on Sukuna’s intentions. “Please, refrain from going there.”

“Uraume,” Sukuna pinches the bridge of his nose, chuckling amusedly. “You just told me everything I needed to know, and now you are asking me not to go?”

“I know.” Uraume shakes their head, embarrassed by their own short-sightedness. “I hoped you’d see reason.”

“It’s my only option.” Sukuna explains calmly.

“It’s not and we both know it.” Uraume sighs tiredly, not bothering to hide the rising irritation in their voice. “I don’t understand why you don’t want to go to Gojo. He is the strongest sorcerer in this country. If he couldn’t help you, no one else could.”

“Drop it, Uraume.”

“Are you afraid of his reaction when he sees you?” They sneer, giving Sukuna an angry side-eye.

When Sukuna doesn’t deny their allegations, Uraume’s face changes from annoyed to worried in a heartbeat. “Sukuna?”

“I’m going to the Badlands.” Sukuna says shortly, unwilling to explain his reasoning to them. It’s impossible when you don’t understand yourself. “It’s not up for discussion.”

Uraume takes a moment to let out a labored breath, calming themselves before responding. “Okay.”

Sukuna turns away from them, ready to head out. He doesn’t care what he would have to face in the badlands, because he couldn’t fathom the idea of giving up without fighting. It is not in his character to accept things that displease him. Especially now. He is willing to hurt himself to achieve the result he wants. For him, the end justifies the means. He’s always been like that. No curse will ever change it.

His body might not be his own anymore, but he knows his soul is. His unbreakable spirit is. The whole essence of what makes Sukuna himself is still right there.

“Let me explain how to get there.” Uraume offers, watching Sukuna’s retreating back. “It’s not a short walk from here.”

“Alright.” Sukuna smiles at them over his shoulder and returns to Uraume.

As they sit down to discuss the shortest route, Sukuna starts feeling lighter and his mood gets a little better. He wouldn’t admit it, but he was relieved that Uraume could accept his decision even if they disapproved of it and that they were still willing to help him.

“Please, promise me that you’ll try to be careful.” Uraume asks as they offer Sukuna an amulet and a hooded cape. “This will help.”

“You know me too well, Uraume.” Sukuna grins as he takes them, putting the necklace on his neck and throwing a cape over his shoulders.

Uraume chuckles and waves their hand, sending Sukuna off on his journey. “I hope you’ll find what you’re looking for.”

“Thank you, Uraume.” Sukuna says sincerely, bowing at them a little.

They nod and smile back at him. “Best of luck, Sukuna.”

Sukuna hums in response and leaves their house.

He’s got a long road ahead of him.
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The badlands do not live up to their name, in Sukuna’s humble opinion – the vast green hills extend as far as his eyes can see. Lush green against the clear blue sky. Beautiful, but unnaturally still and lifeless. Unmoving and unchanging.

The scenery feels eerie, somehow. To Sukuna, it feels like somebody is constantly watching him, yet there is no one around, save a flock of birds flying above him. He hasn’t met a singular person, nor has he seen any houses after he left the city. Just fields and hills of unending green. Uraume warned him, of course, but he thought that his friend was exaggerating the extent of trouble he’d have to go through. Now he knows they didn’t – Sukuna’s been walking for a good six hours now and he hasn’t found anything. Or anybody, for that matter.

The dusk will break soon, and navigating this place without any source of light would be near impossible.

Deciding to take a short break, Sukuna sits down on the warm grass, stretching his long legs to take some tension off of them. One of the birds, which happens to be a big raven, lands in front of him. Sukuna takes a curious look at the bird and finds it looking right back at him with the same amount of curiosity.

He knows ravens are considered very smart, but this particular one looks especially intelligent. It has purple eyes that hold an unsettling level of intensity in its gaze. It stares Sukuna straight in the eyes as if challenging him to do something.

“What?” Sukuna asks the bird, feeling like an idiot as he does so. It is quite absurd to talk to this feathery bastard.

Maybe the curse has been actively affecting his sanity all this time.

The bird tilts its head and blinks slowly as if trying to respond wordlessly. It croaks and takes to the air, flying up to Sukuna and landing on his forearm. Startled by the bird’s actions, he swings his hand, trying to shake the raven off, but it digs its claws deeper into the fabric of his cape.

“What the fuck do you want?”

The bird croaks in response and takes off before Sukuna can grab it with his other hand. Its voice sounds suspiciously mocking, like it’s laughing at him. As if birds could intone emotions.

“Are you working for the sorcerer that cursed me?” Sukuna screams at the sky, looking for the raven that has been following him.

Suddenly, it lands on his forearm again. This time, Sukuna does not try to get rid of the bird, opting for a more peaceful approach.

“Are you?” He asks, looking at the raven expectantly.

It shakes its head slowly as if to say ‘no’.

“You do understand what I’m saying, don’t you?”

It nods.

“Are you someone’s familiar?”

The bird bends its neck to pinch Sukuna’s bicep with its beak. It must mean a ‘hell no’ in bird’s language.

“Motherfucker, have you just bitten me?”

The raven croaks and starts flopping its big wings, still clinging to Sukuna’s sleeve. It seems that the bird is trying to lead him somewhere. Sukuna resists at first. He is sane enough to not trust the damned smart bird.

Except, it’s not an ordinary bird. And it’s also not a familiar. Sukuna supposes that it must be another cursed person. If that is the case, they could probably help each other.

“Are you cursed?” Sukuna asks just to make sure he is right. The raven looks at him, its eyes wide in surprise, like it was not expecting this question. It nods and eases his hold of Sukuna’s cape.

It wouldn’t hurt to team up with it, then. It’s not like Sukuna has got much to lose. Besides, he is at least ten times bigger than it, so if the worst comes to worst, he would take it down, clean and easy.

“I’ll go with you, so stop fucking up my clothes.” Sukuna squints his eyes at the raven and waves his hand. “Lead the way.”

The raven takes off again, flying just slightly above his head.

“If you as much as think of shitting on me, I’ll pluck each one of your feathers.” Sukuna warns seriously.

The bird croaks defensively as if it was scoffing at him. Whoever it was as a person, they probably were impossible to be around—a total asshole.

“Don’t act like you weren’t thinking about it.”

The raven stays silent for once, so Sukuna counts it as his little victory. Together, they travel silently until the sun goes down completely, and the sky turns a nice shade of deep, dark blue. Eventually, they come across a small burned-out cornfield, protected by a decrepit-looking wooden fence and a tall scarecrow in the middle of it. It seems out of place. Wrong. Sukuna thinks he already knows exactly why they came here.

The raven lands on his shoulder this time, and points at the scarecrow with its wing.

“You brought me here to pay a visit to an old foe?” Sukuna mocks his feathered companion.

It pinches his ear in response.

“What, aren’t you supposed to be scared of it?”

Instead of reacting to his question, the bird flies away from him and lands on the scarecrow’s extended wooden arm. Sukuna watches it, unimpressed.

At first, nothing is happening, but then the bird bumps its forehead into the scarecrow’s happy face, and the straw guy starts bouncing excitedly. It is hardly the craziest thing that Sukuna’s seen in the last two days, and yet…The scene before him seems surreal. And somehow tragic. It makes Sukuna a little wistful.

The scarecrow leaps to Sukuna, silent and murky, but his painted smiling face never falters. Sukuna examines him closely. His eyes are a pair of big, dark-blue buttons on bone-white fabric, no nose or eyebrows. His hair is a clump of thick black woolen threads, his clothing an old, dirtied white shirt and torn, dark pants.
The scarecrow looks at Sukuna like he is examining him himself. The raven watches them curiously.

“So, you two are friends, huh?”

The raven nods and rubs its (their?) face against the scarecrow’s. It bounces in response, unable to convey his emotions any other way.

“It’s kinda ironic, you know?” Sukuna chuckles humorlessly and looks at the pair, talking to the bird who looks back at him. “That your friend got turned into a thing that is supposed to be repelling to you.”

The raven croaks, but this time it sounds angry, so Sukuna knows he’s hit the nerve. He doesn’t feel too bad about it, but he would prefer not to get his eyes plucked out by a bird, so he concedes. “It was a shitty thing to say, I get it.”

The bird rolls its eyes, and the scarecrow looks at it, his gaze almost worried, save from the fact that his eyes are literal lifeless buttons. Sukuna kind of starts feeling a little bad for them. It must be hard to exist like that - unable to communicate normally. Not being human anymore.

Sukuna realizes that he is not that unfortunate. At least, he didn’t get turned into a fucking rat or something.

“I’m looking for an old man with grey skin and one eye.” Sukuna clears his throat and starts explaining. He tries to tell them that he was the one who cursed him, but, for some reason, the words simply wouldn’t come out. He can’t physically say it. Is that a part of his curse, too? To be unable to tell others what happened. “Have you seen him?”

The bird understands him and shakes its head, ‘no’. They were not cursed by the same man who hexed Sukuna.

So, there are a bunch of lunatics who go around and use some powerful magic against the people. Great.

“We should find somewhere to spend the night.” Sukuna says, changing the topic. “It won’t be safe to stay here.”

The raven nods enthusiastically and starts jumping on its friend’s arm.

“You know where to go, don’t you?” Sukuna asks, addressing the bird. It croaks and flies away, showing them the direction and leaving Sukuna alone with the scarecrow.
He turns his happy face to Sukuna, but his gaze looks menacing like he is warning Sukuna against doing something. Sukuna scoffs, not understanding what his deal is. It’s not like he was being threatening to them.

“Look,” Sukuna grumbles, annoyed by the scarecrow’s attitude. These guys deserve each other. “You two are safe as long as you don’t do anything funny.”

He still looks at Sukuna intensely, not believing a word said.

Or maybe it’s not about Sukuna. He has every right not to trust anybody. In his place, he wouldn’t believe people, too. How many years have they spent like that? Not living, just merely existing as shadows of their past selves.

“I’m sorry about you two.” Sukuna adds quietly. “I’ll try to help. But I can’t promise anything, so don’t get your hopes up.”

Scarecrow turns away from him, casting him a long, sorrowful look. The mood between them shifts, though. He picks up after his feathered friend, taking wide leaps as he tries to keep up with the bird’s speed. Sukuna runs after them, speeding up to not lose sight of his unusual companions. They have to stick together if they want to help each other.

His sense of time doesn’t work the same in the badlands, but from the tension in his calves, he could tell that they were running for a lot of time.

Suddenly, the raven lands on Sukuna’s forearm and gestures its clawed leg to the little building in front of the lake. From the distance, it looks abandoned. Still, Sukuna quite likes it. It is tucked in a small pocket of the world, hidden from the noisiness of the city. It feels peaceful. Nice. Detached from the world.

“I’ll go and check if it’s safe.” Sukuna warns in a demanding tone. “You two stay here.”

The raven flies away before Sukuna even moves in the direction of the house, and starts looking in the windows, checking if there are any people inside.

“That annoying fuck.” Sukuna mutters, turning his head to the scarecrow. “Has he always been like that?”

The scarecrow bounces in agreement and bumps his extended arm to Sukuna’s shoulder.

“Are you trying to cheer me up, you freak?” Sukuna gasps in shock.

Not the creepy, overprotective dude turned a fucking straw-man trying to give Sukuna some comfort. It’s simply unbelievable.

The scarecrow starts jumping around Sukuna mockingly.

“Let’s just go.”

They have a long night ahead of them.

Chapter Text

The house is empty.

There is no furniture and no sources of light in the hallway. Just a small, dark corridor, completely vacant inside. No signs of residents, no character, and no aura in the place. It’s so very unusual to be in a space where there is no soul. It feels hollow. Cold. Well, it is cold on the outside, too, so it’s not that weird. Even with all the magic surrounding Sukuna as of late, he does not lose the sense of logic he always had.

The raven shivers on Sukuna’s shoulder, its feathery body trembling visibly.

“Are you scared?” Sukuna asks mockingly. The bird eyes him frustratedly and croaks.

This time, Sukuna does not care enough to try to interpret its reactions.

The bird returns to the scarecrow’s arm and tucks its head into the guy’s woolen hair, hiding from the world around them. Sukuna sees its tense body relax a little.

The scene before him feels intimate. It is something that is supposed to be happening behind closed doors -- two people comforting each other in a moment of weakness.

The realization strikes Sukuna suddenly, like a ton of bricks – these two seem way too close to be just friends. Or Sukuna does not know a thing about friendships, which, maybe, he does not have a lot of people around him, and yet…If he were a betting man, he would bet everything that they are, or were, in love, before they had been transformed into what they are now. A bird and a bird-scarer. The irony of it all is as genius as it is cruel.

Sukuna sees something out of the corner of his eye, brushing his invasive thoughts aside.

There is a dim light coming from deeper inside the house.

He gestures in the direction of the light with his head, drawing his companions’ attention towards it. The bird nods its head at Sukuna, wordlessly telling him that it caught his signal.

Sukuna approaches the source of light which was shining from behind the door. He breathes out quietly, bracing himself before grabbing the handle. The bird crawls up closer to him and clenches its paw around the stick it sits on. He feels the anxiety radiating off of the pair – the energy is potent and contagious, Sukuna feels their fear sticking to him like a disgusting, wet glue. It drips down his spine to his lower back, Sukuna bucks up to shake this sensation off.

He turns the handle in one swift motion, deciding against stalling. After all, what’s the worst that could happen?

The door opens painfully slowly, revealing a light, spacey hallway. Unlike the part of the house where Sukuna and his company were standing, the space in front of them had lots of different furniture pieces – shelves and racks filled with herbs and bottles, a small closet with colorful clothing hanging inside of it, and flower pots on the wooden floor. The place is cluttered and lived-in, a nice contrast to the dark and empty room behind them.

Sukuna steps inside, a bright, warm light blinding him at first, and hears two voices. They belong to the children, two boys talking with each other somewhere deeper inside the house. He follows the sound, enters a big living room, and meets two kids frozen mid-movement, their eyes wide in shock as they look at him.

One of the kids, a shorter boy with light-pink hair, the same color as Sukuna’s, steps forward bravely and puffs his chest discreetly, trying to appear bigger and more menacing.

Sukuna sneers at him and the bird on his shoulder bites into his ear, warning him against antagonizing the kids. Sukuna swats his palm at the bird, dismissing his silent disapproval.

“Who are you and how did you get here?” The boy asks, his voice raised in an alert tone as he approaches Sukuna.

Sukuna turns his attention towards him. “It’s improper to talk to your elders like that.”

The kid stops in front of Sukuna, his hazel eyes watching him closely at all times like he is expecting Sukuna to attack. His small knuckles are clenched in fists and his brows are furrowed in a way that is supposed to be intimidating.

“How did you get here?” The other boy appears from behind Sukuna, sneaking up on him while Sukuna is occupied with the shorter kid.

Sukuna doesn’t take his eyes off the kid in front of him and decides to answer their questions. “I stumbled upon this house in the Badlands.”

The taller, dark-haired boy appears next to the pink-haired one, rising from the shadow cast by Sukuna’s tall figure, and clutches his friend’s sleeve. They look at each other, communicating silently before they leave Sukuna standing in the living room. They walk to the open kitchen together, whispering to each other aggressively, ignoring Sukuna and his companions completely.

Sukuna looks at the bird questioningly, trying to convey his sense of shock wordlessly, and catches the bird looking at him with the same emotion in its purple eyes. He mouths a silent ‘What the fuck?’ and the raven shakes its head in response.

Sukuna follows the kids to the kitchen, stepping on the floor carefully. He sees them sitting at the table and sharing toasts, their backs turned to him carelessly. Like that whole interaction in the hallway did not just happen mere seconds ago.

Sukuna takes up his surroundings — the kitchen is quite spacious, filled with natural light shining through the windows. The specs of dust are floating in the air, and the dining table is cluttered with kitchenware and a pile of various sweets.

The kitchen looks like it is not being used for cooking too often. Or at all.

The light throws Sukuna off – when they enter the house, the Badlands have been shrouded in the darkness of the midnight sky, but the kitchen is filled with warm, natural morning light. How much time has passed since they entered this place?

And what exactly is this place?

Sukuna looks around attentively, trying to spot anything out of the ordinary, but the house seems as regular as any other he has ever seen, save from this place’s residents.

He approaches the kids, making his presence known. They ignore him, engrossed in their conversation and the food they are eating.

“Weren’t you afraid of me?” Sukuna inquires, looking at the kids curiously. “I thought you were going to fight me.”

“Not really.” The dark-haired boy responds, his tone uninterested.

“You’re, like, a stranger.” The pink one says, smiling softly as he takes a big bite of his toast, cheeks dirty with burnt bread crumbs. “Of course, we were gonna fight you!”

“But now you won’t?” Sukuna tilts his head, surprise written all over his face. Kids these days…

If he were them, he would’ve clawed the stranger’s eye out.

“You are being way too careless about it. I could be a murderer or something.”

The talkative kid nods, as if seriously considering everything Sukuna said, and smiles at him. “You aren’t a murderer, though!”

Sukuna’s mouth falls open uselessly, lost as to what to say to that.

They are right, but they are also so incredibly wrong, that he isn’t sure he knows how to address that. It’s not his job to parent other people’s kids, but…

“You don’t know that.” Sukuna argues, his unblinking stare boring into the kid’s face. “You don’t know me, yet you let me follow you into the house and decide to have breakfast while I’m still here.”

“Yeah, sorry about that.” The boy nods enthusiastically. “Would you like to eat, too?”

Sukuna feels his left eye twitch in a nervous tic. He breathes out and counts to ten, trying to calm himself.

He won’t get in a verbal fight with literal kids. He’s never stooped this low in his life and he isn’t planning to do it now.

“I’m a stranger. You don’t know me.” Sukuna says slowly, trying to drive his point across. “You shouldn’t invite me into your house. I might be dangerous.”

The taller boy groans as he stands up and exits the kitchen, leaving his friend and Sukuna alone.

“I know it’s irresponsible.” The boy looks down at his feet like he is ashamed, but then he looks up at Sukuna and beams at him. “But I just don’t feel like you’re a bad guy!”

Sukuna gapes, unable to respond to that.

This kid is completely clueless. Who raised him? Sukuna has to have a conversation with his parents. They are endangering their kid by not teaching him how to act around strangers.

“You can’t just assume that. It’s not safe.”

“I’m Yuji.” The kid shrugs carelessly. “Here, we’re not strangers anymore!”

Sukuna feels blood vessels pop inside his head. He’s going crazy with this conversation.

Fuck his plans and fuck not stooping this low. He isn’t above teaching brats a lesson or two.

“Who raised you?” Sukuna snaps, smashing his fist against the table. “You don’t invite strangers into your house!”

The boy, Yuji, stays silent, watching Sukuna with undivided attention.

Sukuna breathes out slowly. “You can’t assume someone is good just because of a hunch.”

The kid looks at him with a grave facial expression, no longer smiling and being silly. “Okay. Sorry.”

At least, he understands that his careless attitude drives Sukuna mad. Or maybe he took everything he heard to heart.

Sukuna watches him leave the kitchen, dragging his feet on the floor petulantly. The taller boy enters the space, plopping on the chair Yuji was sitting in and faces Sukuna.

“Did you come here to get your curse lifted?” The serious kid asks, meeting Sukuna’s surprised stare dead-on.

“How-”

“My dog told me.” The boy nods in the direction behind his back, but Sukuna doesn’t spot anything there. Then, as if summoned, the white, wolf-like dog emerges from the shadow under the table.

What the hell is up with these kids?

Sukuna looks at the creature curiously as it approaches him and sniffs his clothes. He crouches to pat its big head, but when his palm comes in contact with a thick white coat, it disappears back into the shadow.

His head throbs with a sudden wave of thoughts and visions. He sees various animals emerging from the shadows, all obeying one person.

Ten shadows technique.

The Zenin clan. One of the most influential families in Japan. Just like the Gojos are.

Sukuna pulls his hair, trying to get rid of these thoughts.

Just yesterday, he had no idea what sorcery entailed, and now his brain suddenly remembers big names and ancient techniques. Things he shouldn’t know anything about.

These memories, or thoughts, are not his.

“Are you okay?” The kid looks down on Sukuna with confusion written all over his usually passive face.

Sukuna looks back at the kid. The only thing he hears in his head is ‘ambition’.

He groans as he stands up from his kneeling position and slaps himself on the cheek to snap out of this trance-like state. He should get a hold of himself.

“Yeah, all good.”

The kid looks him up and down skeptically. “You are so weird.”

Sukuna shrugs weakly — he doesn’t care how weird he comes off. He had no time to adjust to this new reality of his.

“Tell me everything your dog told you about t-the-” his breath hitches and he stutters, unable to say anything else.

Right, he can’t talk about the curse to other people.

“It’s not much.” The kid shrugs. “I just see that you’re cursed. Nothing else.”

Sukuna nods. It’s not like he expected every single sorcerer to be able to lift the curse, or know of any intricacies of it — Uraume told him he doesn’t have much of a choice in that regard. The only one who could help him is Gojo. And Sukuna is not going to go to him, so the search for the old man who hexed him must continue.

Before hitting the road again, though…

“Are you two living alone?” Sukuna asks, looking at the kid seriously.

He lifts his head to look Sukuna in the eyes and squints. “We live with our sensei.”

Sukuna looks around and fixes his stare on the kid. “And where is your sensei?”

“I don’t know.” The kid turns away from him, facing the window and kitchen cabinets. “He always has some business to attend to.”

Sukuna nods understandingly. “Do you know when he will be back?”

“No.” The kid says, still avoiding looking at Sukuna.

“Does that happen often?”

The kid sighs irritably. “Yes.”

“Have you got anything to eat?” Sukuna asks, ignoring the side-eye from the kid.

“Why, you wanna eat something?” The kid asks sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

“No, you brat.” Sukuna blurts out. “I was wondering if you’re going to be starving or not.”

The boy snaps his head and looks at him in astonishment, opening and closing his mouth uselessly. Taking a hold of his shock, he grunts. “We’re not starving. We’ve got bread.”

Sukuna barks an uncontrollable laugh. “It’s not food.”

“Yuji doesn’t know what to cook with the other ingredients we’ve got.” The boy mutters, looking down on his feet.

“Okay.” Sukuna responds simply. “Care to help?”

“With what?” He looks up with confusion in his dark green eyes.

“With cooking.” Sukuna says as he passes the table and starts searching through the cabinets. “Show me what you’ve got here.”

The kid stands up and leaves the kitchen without saying a word back to Sukuna.

Rude brat.

Sukuna rolls his eyes and looks for the raven that has flown off somewhere. He doesn’t see it in the kitchen, but he isn’t worried about it – he is sure the bird with an awful attitude is fully capable of defending itself, or, at the very least, of letting Sukuna know it needs help.

He turns his attention back to the shelves and racks, a man on a mission to find some ingredients. He takes some rice and vegetables, but that is not nearly enough food to sustain two growing teenagers and one (supposedly) adult man.

Either they do not eat a lot, or they survive off of takeout.

Based on the signs, their sensei is irresponsible with the kids’ well-being.

Sukuna is incredibly curious to meet this man and have a little chat with him. Let him know what he thinks of this entire situation.

He’s seen enough abandoned kids in his time, especially when he was living on the streets, and while these boys do not look like strays, they might as well be, if their sensei is absent most of the time.

He remembers envying the kids with families, well-fed and showered in affection, while he was alone, hungry, and afraid of genuine kindness. He snaps out of the memories, shaking them off, and continues looking for something to cook a decent meal with.

He spots eggs and bacon near the stove, and a carton of milk on the dining table. He could scrap some dinner from all these ingredients.

When he turns around, he sees two teenagers standing in front of the table and watching him closely.

Sukuna raises his brow, a questioning look on his face. “You want something?”

“Let us help.” Yuji steps out and bows his head.

“Bring me a bowl, a cutting board, two forks, and a good knife.” Sukuna gestures in the direction of the stove, turning back to the cabinets and arranging the ingredients on the countertop. “I’ll make you an omurice and some bacon.”

Yuji nods, shaking his head enthusiastically, and rushes to bring everything Sukuna has asked for. The other one stays glued on the spot, looking at Sukuna with suspicion.
“Why are you doing that?”

Sukuna smiles, his mouth forming a crooked, unhappy line. “I just hate seeing kids hungry.”

The kid gasps and looks down, not knowing how to respond. Sukuna clears his throat, becoming embarrassed by his sudden admission.

He is thankful that he is standing with his back turned on the kid.

“My name is Fushiguro.” The boy says awkwardly, still looking down on his feet.

Sukuna nods, letting the teenager know that he heard him.

“Why didn’t you tell us you’ve got a pet raven, uncle?” Yuji bursts into the kitchen, a bird sitting comfortably in his arms.

Sukuna sneers at him, not bothering to turn around and look. “I ain’t your uncle, you brat.”

Yuji waves his hand, dismissing Sukuna’s comment. “Your raven is so cool!”

“It’s not mine.”

“Whose is it?” Yuji comes closer to him and looks up curiously.

“It's own.” Sukuna responds calmly and looks down on the pink-haired boy. “Where are the things I asked you for?”

Yuji crouches in front of the drawers, pulling the utensils and handing them to Sukuna. “Here!”

Sukuna takes them off of his hands and goes to wash his hands in the sink.

“Will you teach us how to cook?” Yuji asks, bouncing on the spot excitedly. “Please!”

“Okay, but you better do as I say.”

The kids gather around him, with each one on both sides.

“Crack five eggs and stir.” Sukuna commands, showing Yuji how to do it. “Can you do that?”

Yuji gets to business, stirring the eggs energetically.

“Fushiguro, add half a cup of milk to the bowl.”

As they work together on their dinner, he and the kids are engrossed in the process, Sukuna learns a couple of things about the household: firstly, their sensei is absent most of the time, only coming home for the night, and occasionally staying with his charges during weekends.

Secondly, their caretaker is some famous sorcerer – not that Sukuna could guess who he is, though. Apart from Uraume, Gojo, and Muta, Sukuna never got to know any other magic users in their town, it just was never his point of interest.

Either way, the kids talked him into staying with them until their sensei returned home. They were adamant that he could help Sukuna in some way. It didn’t take much convincing Sukuna – he was already eager to meet the man. He couldn’t wait to share a piece of mind with him. Leaving two kids to tend to themselves, with little to no food and their lack of cooking skills, practically endangering them. Not teaching them how to behave around strangers. It made Sukuna’s blood boil.

“Look, uncle!” Yuji tugs on Sukuna’s sleeve. “I think the rice is ready.”

Sukuna looks at the clock to check the time. It was 6 pm already. The time seemed to move differently in here. Or Sukuna’s perception of time failed him.

“Kid, I’m not your uncle.” Sukuna mutters tiredly. “Grab a spoon and try it out.”

Yuji chuckles as he sticks a spoonful of steaming rice in his mouth. “’s good!”

Sukuna takes the spoon off the kid’s mouth and pokes his forehead with an index finger. “Brat, don’t talk with your mouth full, it’s nasty.”

Yuji sighs happily, taking the spoon from Sukuna’s hands and bringing it to the sink.

“Fushiguro, add vegetables to the pan.” Sukuna says, cutting down a cucumber. “Stir them or they won’t be cooked evenly.”

Sukuna calls for the raven, the bird coming to him swiftly, and gives it a piece of vegetable. “You can eat that, right?”

The bird nods and steals a piece of vegetable, swallowing it in one swift motion.

“We’ll have to figure out what to feed to you.” Sukuna mutters, mostly to himself. The bird overhears him and starts rubbing his head against his palm.

He pats the raven on the head and offers his forearm for its sitting. The bird climbs on Sukuna’s arm and settles on his wide shoulder, closing its eyes.

“Where did you find him?” Yuji asks, looking at the bird curiously.

“Him?” Sukuna asks, pointing a finger at the bird. “How do you know it’s a man?”

“He told me!” Yuji beams happily, his attention turned to the conversation fully.

“He found me in the Badlands.” Sukuna responds as the comes to the stove to check on their meal.

Fushiguro is stirring the pot and watching the meal closely. It looks good.

“You can add the rice.” Sukuna advises, looking over Fushiguro’s shoulder as the kid does what he was told to do. “Keep stirring.”

“Food will be ready in ten minutes.” Sukuna says, checking the time again. 6:20 pm

Yuji starts bringing out the plates and setting the table.

He hears the door handle turn and snaps his head in the direction of the sound. It’s not just the sound that sets off his senses – the energy just shifts. Whoever is behind the door has a very strong presence.

Yuji sets off to the front door, running towards it excitedly.

“Gojo sensei!”

Sukuna gasps, turning around in panic – he has no escape route. The windows are not big enough for him to climb out of. The front door is the only way. Fuck.

The raven looks at him, his eyes widened in shock, and croaks questioningly.

Sukuna snarls unintelligibly, turning away from the entrance to the kitchen. He knows he’s acting like an idiot. But he didn’t go out of his way to not go to Gojo just to stumble into his damned house with his goddamn kids inside of it.

Fuck this, he hates his life now.

“Well, hello!” Gojo croons, entering the kitchen. “What have we got here?”

Sukuna braces himself before turning around to face the man. He can do it, it’s not the end of the world.

The energy radiating off of Gojo is crazy – Sukuna’s body starts to sweat, but he also feels a weird sense of excitement that almost makes him shiver.

Gojo

The Six Eyes

Infinity

The limitless

The truest definition of power

Sukuna’s head throbs with unwanted thoughts once again; this time, he makes no move to acknowledge them. He has to get away from here. He’s got no time to waste.

Sukuna faces the man, looking him right in the eyes. These magnetic, ocean-blue eyes.

He notices the newfound difference in their heights. Just two days ago, he had to lift his head to look Gojo in the eyes, and now he is almost a whole head shorter than Sukuna.

He watches Gojo’s gaze travel somewhere from his pectorals, stumbling on the wide expanse of his shoulders and landing on his face, looking at it with undeniable wonder.

The sorcerer’s gaze is chilling, arctic blue eyes boring into the very essence of Sukuna’s soul, searching through it tirelessly.

Sukuna feels bare in front of Gojo like he is stripped of everything, down to the bone marrow and viscera. Like he is just an incorporeal spirit.

“How curious,” Gojo whispers, coming closer, closer, way too close, almost nose-to-nose with Sukuna, still looking at him. Seeing him. “Who are you?”

Sukuna feels his oversized heart plummet in his wide chest, getting lost in the pits of his gut. He shudders at the sensation, closing his eyes and breathing out quietly. He has to say something.

“I came from the Badlands.” He says, deciding to start with the truth, but still evade answering the question directly.

“Oh, I know.” Gojo smiles, but his expression is devoid of the kindness Sukuna’s seen the first time they met. This time, it is cold and strained. Not a genuine expression, but a grimace. “I can sense its stench all over you.”

Sukuna lifts his brow in a wordless question but stays silent and watches the sorcerer.

Gojo groans and turns around, no longer looking at Sukuna, but still staying in his proximity. “If you want my help with your curse, you’ll have to stay here.”

Sukuna shakes his head, refusing to accept it. He will not stay with Gojo and the kids. “I could be dangerous.”

Gojo turns his profile and laughs; it's a loud, cheeky, and eerie sound. “Out of everyone in this place,” he smiles widely and maniacally, displaying two perfectly even rows of white teeth, his eyes burning like a blue inferno straight from the ninth circle of hell. “I am the most dangerous person here.”

Sukuna feels his hackles rise with an unvoiced threat, but he still can’t take his eyes off Gojo.

Or, rather, this new side of Gojo he hadn’t had a chance to see before. He finds that he likes it. He wants to explore it. It intrigues him. He feels its pull on his soul like the clash is absolutely unavoidable. Like he wants it to happen.

Gojo’s smile turns even wider and more unhinged as if he knows exactly what Sukuna is thinking about. Like he enjoys it. Sukuna remembers that he believed Gojo could read thoughts.

“Okay.”

Gojo chuckles. “Yeah?” Amused, he starts walking away, body relaxed and fluid as he moves towards the kitchen.

Sukuna follows right after him, a wide, imposing figure against the leanness of the sorcerer’s stature. “Yeah.”

“Let’s have a dinner then!” Gojo exclaims, passing the kids and ruffling both of their hair. “I brought cake.”

“Is everything okay, Gojo sensei?” Yuji asks, grabbing his sleeve and pulling it nervously. “Were you fighting?”

“Everything is great, Yuji!” he responds, clasping the kid’s palm in his. “What have you cooked?”

The pink-haired kid smiles, forgetting about his worries. “Omurice. Uncle taught us how to make it.”

“Uncle, huh?” Gojo sneers, watching Sukuna from the corner of his eyes.

Sukuna groans as he rolls his eyes. “I told you I’m not your uncle, Yuji.”

Gojo looks between them closely and smiles at Yuji, crouching in front of him. “If you think about it, you two are too much alike.”

“Really?” Yuji asks disbelievingly, jumping from his seat and going to Fushiguro for confirmation.

“I guess.” The dark-haired boy mumbles, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

The kids start whispering between each other before leaving the kitchen altogether.

Sukuna doesn’t take his eyes off Gojo, not paying any attention to the teenagers, and finds the sorcerer staring right back at him. “What?”

Gojo shrugs, “I just have a feeling that I know you from somewhere.”

Sukuna smiles, hiding his nervousness behind the mask of nonchalance. “I believe we’ve never met before.”

Gojo gives him a long, meaningful look, something sad flickering behind the deepest parts of his beautiful blue eyes. “If you say so.”

Gojo places a pan with omurice on the table, four plates ready for serving.

“Sit down and eat with us.” Gojo commands, pulling a chair on his right for Sukuna to sit on. “You’ve cooked it, after all.”

“I didn’t.” Sukuna cuts off, pointing his finger in the direction the teenagers went to. “Your apprentices did.”

“I insist.” Gojo smiles at him, eyes half-closed, expression playful. “We better get to know each other if we’re gonna live together.”

Sukuna obeys, taking his place on Gojo’s right, and calls after the kids. They come out of the room, bringing the raven with them, and put him on Sukuna’s arm.

“You’ve got a pet bird?” Gojo coos at the raven, scratching his neck with a middle finger. “It’s so cute!”

The raven croaks playfully and steals a piece of vegetable off of the pan. Sukuna flickers it on the beak. “Behave yourself.”

Gojo keeps petting the bird, chanting some nonsense at it, the bird responding in kind with some unintelligible sounds.

“I have someone else with me.” Sukuna says, looking at Gojo for any reaction. “I ain’t leaving him behind, so if you have anything against him, we’ll go away.”

“I’ve been waiting for you to say it.” Gojo looks at Sukuna, brows raised in the fake offense. “Do you seriously think I wouldn’t feel another cursed presence in my house?”

Of course, he would.

Sukuna had to fight the urge to slap himself across the face. He stayed silent so as to not embarrass himself even further. How could he forget who he was talking to?

“Bring him on!” Gojo encourages and waves his hand.

The raven flies off to fetch his straw friend, returning with the scarecrow a minute later. Gojo looks them up and down, humming pensively.

“You can stay, too.”

The raven does a little bow, craning its neck, and the scarecrow jumps up. Sukuna breathes out with relief – they deserve a chance. Probably way more than he does.

“Will you be able to help?” Sukuna asks without looking at the sorcerer.

“I am the strongest.” Gojo smiles confidently, stuffing a spoonful of fried rice and omelet in his mouth. “If anyone is capable of helping you, it is me.”

Sukuna makes a face, but stays silent, ultimately deciding to not comment on Gojo’s table manners. It explains whom Yuji is taking after.

“What’s your name, big guy?” Gojo asks suddenly as if remembering that he has a stranger sitting at the table.

Sukuna chokes on the piece of egg, coughing profusely. Shit. He should’ve come up with a fake name beforehand. He can’t reveal his real identity. Now, he has to improvise on the spot.

“Ryoumen.” He spits the first thing that comes to his mind. It is a bizarre name.

Gojo probably wouldn’t buy it.

“Okay, Ryoumen.” Gojo extends his arm, offering his hand for a handshake. “My name is Satoru.”

Sukuna shakes his hand, his palm clasped in a tight handshake, the sorcerer’s smaller hand unnaturally cold and firm to the touch. “Nice to meet you.”

“Yeah.” Gojo smiles, a knowing, playful expression on his face. He understands that something is off. “Pleasure’s all mine.”

Sukuna looks him in the eyes, trying to read his body language, but gets lost in the depth of ocean blues. An infinite, boundless sky.

Infinity.

Six Eyes.

The paramount power in this world.

Sukuna catches himself still holding Satoru’s hand in his. He doesn’t protest, though, equally as lost in his thoughts as Sukuna is.

“I have a proposition for you.” Gojo says, ruining the moment. “Since you probably are too prideful to just accept gratuitous help.”

Sukuna smiles, amused by the way Satoru just seems to get him. “I’m listening.”

Gojo clears his throat and smiles innocently. “You’ll be my housekeeper!”

Sukuna laughs, openly mocking the idea. He is sure the sorcerer is joking.

Judging by his unimpressed face, he isn’t.

It’s not like Sukuna has much of a choice.

Chapter Text

When Sukuna wakes up the next day, the morning air is crisp and fresh. The dawn about just broken, the early summer sky is light yellow, and the sunlight is cold on Sukuna’s bare skin. The top of the window is slightly opened, curtains drawn and moving with the smallest breaths of the wind.

He’s been dreaming of the green flowery fields and star-falls again. This time, he was running, searching for something desperately. He doesn’t know what he was looking for. He doesn’t remember. But the scene seemed weirdly nostalgic.

Familiar.

The feeling is unsettling.

Sukuna groans as he gets out of bed and his bare feet touch the floor. The room Satoru’s lent him is small — the ceiling is high, but the room is clattered with bookshelves and closets. The bed is long, but narrow, designed for one regular-sized person, which Sukuna is not, anymore.

He finds towels and toiletries on the bedside table — one heavily scented bar of soap, some toothpaste, a toothbrush, and a razor. Sukuna takes the items and heads to the bathroom.

The space is tight, but cozy, and dark, with wooden floors and warm colors, a small sink with a big mirror above it, and a bathtub.

A bath would’ve been divine if Sukuna could fit in there. His new build is a huge nuisance — the bed is too small, the bathroom is too tight, his clothes do not fit him anymore, and most of the people look tiny compared to him.

Well, maybe, it’s not that bad. He’d just have to get used to it.

He opts for a steamy shower, leaning his head under the stream of hot water. His mind is blissfully empty, almost in a meditative state, his eyes are closed.

But then, they open unintentionally.

He sees his feet planted steadily on the floor, his calves and thighs ruddy from the high temperature of the water.

His eyes are still closed, he feels them be shut, but, somehow, he still sees himself, and the bathroom, the bar of soap lies heavily in his palm, and the water in the tub is light green from the foam.

His vision is strangely blurry, either from the clouds of steam or from poor eyesight.

But it was perfectly clear just a couple of minutes ago.

He rinses his hands from the foam and touches his face. Oh.

His eyes were closed. But the crescent moon-shaped scars are not. They are opened, half-lidded, and he sees through them.

Sukuna touches them intentionally and feels the sclera under his fingertips, wet and soft, not protected by the thick row of eyelashes. Not like normal human eyes are.

He doesn’t panic, but he slaps himself, hoping that he is still dreaming. He isn’t.

It is not a dream, and he has four eyes now. Like some kind of a monster.

In the fogged-up mirror, he sees himself -- tall, big, and menacing, his newly added eyes making him look even more intimidating. Barely human.

He has to get rid of them as soon as possible.

He knows he doesn’t have any sharp objects in his room. Satoru is not that stupid to leave a possibly dangerous stranger in a room with anything that could be used as a weapon.

Sukuna would just have to sneak out into the kitchen, grab a knife, and do what has to be done. Not like it’s hard. He got hurt enough times in his twenty-five years of existence to not care about the pain all that much. Especially, if it means getting rid of those heinous eyes.

He ties a small towel around his hips, the soft fabric just barely covering his hips, and opens the door hastily, almost knocking himself on the head.

Behind the door, Satoru is standing still, staring at Sukuna’s quite literally naked body. Sukuna gasps, not expecting to see him this early in the morning. And outside his door, of all places.

Gojo’s eyes are unblinking as they ogle the man in front of them, traveling up and down Sukuna’s torso, not daring to look below.

Thankfully.

Snapping out of the trance-like state, Gojo looks Sukuna in the eyes directly, his gaze stumbling into the place where the scars were just the day before.

Sukuna tries to move past him in the doorway, which is nearly impossible considering the size of his body, but Gojo catches him by the wrist, stopping him mid-movement.

“Woah, hey, big guy,” Satoru says, placing one of his delicate hands on Sukuna’s firm chest, his other hand still clasped around Sukuna’s wrist tightly. “What’s the hurry?”

Sukuna looks away from Satoru’s curious eyes, trying to hide his face. “It’s nothing.”

Gojo reaches his hand and touches Sukuna’s cheekbone carefully, almost caressing his newly opened eye. “How curious.”

Satoru’s fingertips are cold and soft against Sukuna’s skin, moving gently over this weird appendage. He shuts his eyes, succumbing to the careful touch.

“I’m glad you find my condition curious.”

The white-haired man takes his hand off Sukuna’s face grudgingly, like he can’t keep himself from touching Sukuna, and looks at him apologetically. “Do they hurt?”

Sukuna shakes his head in clear denial.

Satoru nods wordlessly, tapping an index finger against his chin. “It’s not unusual for curses to evolve. It doesn’t necessarily mean something bad.”

Sukuna doesn’t react — what could he even say? He wants to get rid of this curse. And he just has to do it before he pops another monstrous appendage on his body.

“I know how unpleasant it must be for you.” Gojo starts, leaning on the doorframe, showing Sukuna that he isn’t going anywhere. “Don’t worry, I’ll be looking into your situation more closely from now on. But you gotta let me know if something else changes in your body, yeah?”

Sukuna grunts, crossing his arms over his chest, and leans on the other side of the doorframe. Might as well get comfortable if they’ll be having this conversation.

“Hopefully, nothing else will change.”

Satoru scoffs, rolling his eyes playfully. “I wouldn’t bet on it if I were you.”

Sukuna snorts in response. “Yeah, that’s fair.”

Gojo smiles at him genuinely, this time. Sukuna notices the bags under his eyes, lower eyelids light-purple, not rested enough. He wants to ask Satoru what keeps him up at night but decides against it. They don’t know each other.

Strangers don’t ask personal questions.

Satoru opens his eyes, blinking lazily, and yawns. “I’m leaving in half an hour.”

“Where to?” The question escapes Sukuna’s mouth before he has a chance to catch himself.

Great, now he feels like an idiot.

“Well, aren’t you a curious guy, Ryoumen?” Gojo smiles slyly, deflecting the question, exactly like Sukuna expected him to.

“It’s not my business, I get it.” Sukuna relents, his passive face intact.

“Yeah, pretty much.” Satoru nods, his expression still sly like he is just teasing and not being downright rude.

Sukuna rolls his eyes and turns away from Gojo, going back into his room. He hopes that the sorcerer will get a cue and leave, but he is still leaning on the doorway, his posture relaxed, and watching Sukuna’s back.

“I want to change.” Sukuna says, turning sideways to face Satoru. “Either you leave, or come in and shut the door behind you.”

“Oh, my-” Satoru purrs, eyes half-lidded and watching Sukuna. “Are you inviting me into your bedroom before our first date?”

“Satoru-”

“Okay, okay.” Gojo raises both his hands defensively. “I’m leaving, so don’t get your panties in a twist.”

As the sorcerer gets going, he leaves the door open, just to be a dick about it. Sukuna groans, closes it, and finally changes into his yesterday outfit. He’d need to get a hold of some spare clothes.

But first things first, he needs to get rid of the second pair of eyes.

He comes down the stairs to the kitchen, and starts cooking the breakfast — just some scrambled eggs and some leftover bacon. He leaves the plate on the table, goes to the sink to wash his hands, and puts some water in the kettle. He’d kill for a good cup of coffee right now.

When he turns around, the plate is not where he left it —Satoru is standing in front of him, holding it and eating Sukuna’s breakfast.

“‘S good.” He says, munching on the bacon slowly.

Sukuna breathes out tiredly — Gojo’s childish antics are irritating as hell. He expected the strongest to be a bit more mature and composed.

A little less annoying, too.

“If you wanted to eat, you should’ve just said so.”

“Really?” Gojo looks up at him wonderingly, a hint of excitement in his eyes. “And you would’ve just cooked for me?”

“Is this not what I do for you now?” Sukuna asks, catching Satoru’s stare. “As your housekeeper.”

“Right.” Satoru smiles at him, but his smile is strained, not at all sincere. Like he is holding back something. “I’ll be remembering that.”

Sukuna nods nonchalantly, hiding his interest behind the mask of indifference. He really wants to ask Satoru what his deal is, why his brilliant eyes suddenly turned dull and brooding.

He knows he shouldn’t, though. It’s pretty much not his business.

“The kids usually do their magical studies during the day.” Gojo informs, placing the plate in the sink. “They learn non-offensive spells and brew potions. The most basic stuff.”

“Is it not dangerous?” Sukuna asks, eyeing the sorcerer suspiciously.

“Nah.” Satoru grins, waving his hand dismissively. “The worst that could happen is them burning off their eyebrows.”

“Do you want me to do anything specific in the house?” Sukuna asks, changing the subject.

“You can do whatever you want in here.” Satoru smiles and spreads his arms demonstratively. “This house could use some cleaning.”

Sukuna nods, looking around himself and taking mental notes — he definitely should start with the kitchen. Cleaning all this mess up would take at least a full day.

“It’s an understatement.”

Satoru laughs heartily, throwing his head back and baring his long, pale neck to Sukuna.

He finds that he quite likes it.

“My room’s off-limits, though.” Gojo’s head snaps back and his face turns serious, bright blue eyes staring at Sukuna menacingly. “And don’t you think I will not notice your presence in my bedroom.”

“Wouldn’t you like to have my presence in your bedroom?” Sukuna asks playfully, not expecting to hear an honest answer.

Satoru winks at him. “Wouldn’t you like to know, big guy?”

Sukuna sneers, amused by their little banter.

“I’d have to find you some clothes.” The sorcerer muses out loud, looking Sukuna up and down. “Since you’re my housekeeper, should I bring you a maid outfit?”

Sukuna gags demonstratively, and Satoru huffs a small sigh, suppressing a laugh. “You’re no fun.”

Satoru checks the clock and scatters to the hallway, putting on a dark blue jacket as he goes. “Okay, I’m leaving.”

Sukuna waves a hand at him. “Bye.”

“Bye. Don’t do anything stupid, Ryoumen.”

Sukuna feels like Gojo knows exactly what he wants to do, but doesn’t say it. Still, he doesn’t care.

Sukuna will do what he has to to get rid of this shit.

When the door closes, Sukuna goes back to the kitchen, listening closely for any indication that the kids woke up. They didn’t, judging by the silence. The raven and the scarecrow are somewhere in the house, too. Probably resting.

This means Sukuna can finally put his plan into action.

He washes a big kitchen knife, the same one he used to cook dinner, and dries it with a clean towel — just because he is going to hurt himself, doesn’t mean he is willing to catch an infection.

He goes upstairs, into the bathroom attached to his chamber, and comes to the mirror. Sukuna takes a close look at himself, examining the newest addition thoroughly.

These new eyes are similar to the old ones, the same red color, but they have no lashes, and are narrower, as if squinting at all times.

He grabs the knife more tightly, bracing himself before directing it toward his face.

Determined to do what needs to be done, Sukuna raises the blade in one swift motion, but it never comes in contact with his eye.

His hands simply wouldn’t move past the certain point, stopping right before the blade connected with soft tissue.

Sukuna tries again, but his hands freeze mid-movement each time, tense and motionless.

His fingers unclench unintentionally, letting go of the hilt of the knife. It drops in the sink, the sound of its landing clanging loudly in the bathroom, echoing through Sukuna’s body like an ugly cacophony.

He shudders, the movement returning to his body. He’s never had his limbs disobeying him like that. It makes him angry, and scared. As if having his appearance changed so drastically was not enough, now his body has its own will.

The combination of rage and confusion overwhelms Sukuna to the point of smashing his fist against the mirror, its reflective surface breaking into small, peaky pieces of glass.

His knuckles bleed, dark red blood dripping from the broken skin like little river flows. He doesn’t feel any immediate pain, his body is in a shocked state. Sukuna’s heart is beating rapidly in his oversized chest, the sound loud in his ears.

He washes his trembling hands, the sink full of glass shards and light-pink water, like a weird decorative pond. Sukuna finds a medical kit in the cabinet under the sink and pours a generous amount of alcohol on his damaged knuckles. The liquid foams, washing away the blood from his skin. He bandages his hand with a thin, white gauge.

It turns red immediately.

Sukuna curses under his breath, still shocked, but mostly pensive, thinking his discoveries through. He’d have to let Satoru know of it without actually telling him what happened.

But how?
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

In hindsight, cutting his hand with glass wasn’t the brightest idea. Not that Sukuna actually planned to do it, of course — his own emotions got the better of him.

And that’s why, currently, Sukuna has a bit of a problem. He can’t use his hand right now. Clenching his fist causes the wound to reopen, so he can’t hold anything in his right hand.

And he has a whole ass house to clean.

He mostly operates with his left hand, moving the stuff around the kitchen, and putting things back in their places.

When the dining table starts looking at least a little bit more presentable, he starts cooking the breakfast for the kids, the same scrambled eggs and bacon. It’s not like they’ve got a lot to choose from — the amount of ingredients they have in the house is simply laughable. They’d have to make a trip to the market.

The housework is boring, but it helps Sukuna to get distracted, so he washes the dishes with just one hand and starts cleaning up the cabinets.

The kids come running to the kitchen an hour later, stomping on the wooden floors loudly, and sit at the table. Yuji’s dopey smile is plastered on his face, eyes shining brightly as he watches Sukuna place a plate in front of him.

“What are you so happy about?” Sukuna wonders, looking at the boy suspiciously.

“You stayed.” Yuji beams, looking up at Sukuna. “I really hoped you would.”

His honesty catches Sukuna off-guard and leaves him speechless.

“What happened to your hand?” Fushiguro asks, eyeing the thick layer of gauges on Sukuna’s hand.

“I cut it while washing the dishes.” The lie comes out easily.

Yuji notices the injured hand, gushing loudly. “Does it hurt?”

Sukuna shakes his head. “Nothing to worry about.”

Yuji bites his lip, still looking at the bandaged hand, and turns to Fushiguro. “Fushi, do you think we could-”

Fushiguro nods, cutting off Yuji’s question mid-sentence, and leaves the table.

He comes back in a mere minute and places a small green bottle on the table. “Take this.”

Sukuna raises his brow, a silent question written on his face.

“It’s a healing potion sensei taught us to make!” Yuji answers and beams at Sukuna happily.

“Apply it on your hand.” Fushiguro adds and moves the bottle closer to Sukuna. “It’ll heal faster.”

Sukuna takes it in his good hand and takes a closer look at the green liquid inside. “Is it okay if I take it?”

The boys nod in unison. “Yeah, it’s not for sale.”

“Are you selling them?”

“We sell the potions Gojo sensei brews.” Yuji explains, chewing on the scrambled eggs. “Real powerful stuff.”

“He lets us trade some of our potions.” Fushiguro says, pointing his finger at the bottle in Sukuna’s hand. “They’re not as strong as his are, though.”

“Thank you.” Sukuna says, smiling at the boys crookedly. “And what are you usually selling?”

“The most basic things.” Fushiguro answers shortly, picking on the eggs on the plate.

“Okay.” Sukuna says and goes to the sink. “Clean up after the breakfast.”

The boys groan but otherwise don’t object, and Sukuna leaves the kitchen to go tend to his hand.

The healing liquid feels cold and comforting against his irritated skin, soothing the dull ache in his palm and knuckles.

When Sukuna comes back, the dishes are done, drying out near the sink, and the boys are sitting on the couch and reading a book together.

“Thanks for the food!” Yuji smiles eagerly and points a finger at the dishes. “We cleaned up.”

“Good job.” He responds and crouches in front of the kids, watching them read. “Don’t you have to go to school?”

“We don’t go to school.” Fushiguro responds simply.

“How so?” Sukuna asks, the kids tensing visibly.

“Nanami-sensei teaches us when he visits.” Yuji says, looking down on his feet.

“And who is Nanami-sensei?”

“He is Gojo sensei’s friend.” Yuji explains, mumbling softly. “He teaches in the sorcery academy.”

“Does he teach you magic?” Sukuna’s curiosity peaks. How can you teach the kids magic without teaching them the most basic subjects such as physics, math, and Japanese?

“No.” Fushiguro grumbles, snapping the book shut. “You’re distracting my reading.”

“Does he visit you often?” Sukuna asks, ignoring Fushiguro’s complaint.

Yuji shakes his head, too honest for his own good.

“I’ll be teaching you, then.”

Yuji groans and throws his head back, laying it on the back of the couch. “I hate having lessons.”

“That’s too bad.” Sukuna responds, standing up. “Bring me your books. We’ll start with math.”

Fushiguro stands up and leaves the room wordlessly.

Yuji stays on the couch, huffing and whimpering demonstratively.

“If you don’t want to learn – be my guest.” Sukuna sneers and turns away from the kid. “Stay stupid for all I care.”

“I’m not stupid!” Yuji calls after Sukuna’s retreating figure. “Take it back!”

“Nah.”

“Take it back!” Yuji runs after him and grabs at his sleeve, tugging at it urgently. “Hey!”

“Let me go, you brat.” Sukuna shakes his hand lightly, the kid still clinging to his shirt tightly.

“Not ‘till you take it back!” Yuji raises his voice, stomping on the floor angrily. The plates on the counter rumble from the sheer force of the kid’s tramp, and the potted plant jumps up on the floor.

“What the” Sukuna murmurs, looking down on the pink-haired kid surprisedly.

What’s up with these kids?

He looks down on his feet, eyes wide in shock and fists clenched tightly. “I’m sorry.”

“What for?” Sukuna asks wonderingly.

“I didn’t mean to do that.” Yuji mumbles as he looks up at Sukuna. “I promise.”

“You’re pretty strong for a kid.” Sukuna states the obvious, looking at the boy curiously.

Yuji squints and hides his face in his hands. “It’s a secret.”

“Okay.” Sukuna says, “Does Satoru know?”

Yuji nods silently and hunches over self-consciously.

“I’m not mad at you.” He informs the boy and crouches to level with him. “But you gotta learn to control your strength.”

Yuji peeks through his fingers and shows his face when he sees Sukuna in front of him.

“Can you teach me?” He looks at Sukuna hopefully, his eyes shining brightly.

“I thought you hated lessons.”

Yuji huffs defensively. “I take that back.”

“Okay.” Sukuna laughs heartily and pats the kid on the shoulder. “Normal lessons first, fighting comes second.”

The boy nods enthusiastically and extends his little finger. “Pinky-swear!”

Sukuna rolls his eyes, but relents, albeit a bit reluctantly. “Alright.”

“Are you two done?” Fushiguro asks, his voice is bored and tired. He is carrying a couple of books and pencils.

“Fushi, Ryoumen sensei will teach me how to fight!” Yuji says as he approaches his friend, a spring to his step and a pep in his voice. “But I gotta learn math first.”

Fushiguro chuckles at him and the both of them get seated at the table, waiting for Sukuna to start teaching.

“Alright, brats, do you know the multiplication table?”
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

A few hours later, after their math and Japanese lessons ended, the kids went to the living room to start making their potions.

Sukuna busies himself with cleaning the kitchen. He finishes organizing the kitchenware and the dishes and starts dusting the shelves and cabinets.

The kids are not as bad as Sukuna thought they’d be – they used to go to school. Yuji’s eager to learn new things, he gets all excited and motivated when he understands the subject. Fushiguro is lazier, but more academically gifted.

It’s not Sukuna’s business to babysit a pair of teenagers, but he quite enjoyed teaching them. Their other sensei, Nanami-or-whatever-he-is-called, must be a good teacher – the boys are all caught up with the school’s math program.

Their Japanese is a bit worse, and the lack of knowledge of classical literature is quite obvious. But it’s not like he can make them read books they have no interest in. The only literature they consume willingly is books about magic.

Sukuna might actually be interested in reading those books himself. Perhaps, they would contain some knowledge about curses.

After moping the floor and finally finishing with the kitchen, Sukuna writes a list of groceries. He’d have to wait for Satoru to get the money, though.

“Ryoumen sensei,” Yuji comes to the kitchen and waves a hand at him to attract Sukuna’s attention. “Gojo sensei left us some money and asked us to show you the market.”

Sukuna accepts a handful of cash: fifteen bills equal to his month’s rent.

Gojo left them enough money to rent a whole-ass apartment for a month.

“What does he expect me to buy with this?” Sukuna mumbles under his breath and puts the money into his front pocket.

Yuji giggles. “He said to get whatever we want.”

“Okay.” Sukuna gruffs and follows the kid into the living room. “Take me to the market.”

The boys go upstairs to change, Sukuna waiting for them in the hallway. If he had a spare, he would’ve changed, too. But alas.

He notices a small circular device on the right side of the door. It looks like a clock, but it has no numbers and is divided into four equal parts. Each part is in a different color – green, blue, yellow, and black. The hand of the clock hangs in the black color.

The black light is shining above the door.

It looks curious.

Before Sukuna could open the door, Fushiguro’s shadow dog appeared right between him and the door and pulled the handle.

“Gojo sensei forbids us to go there.” The kid approaches and turns the hands of the clock on a blue color.

“How does it work?” Sukuna asks, watching the kid’s movements closely. “Are there different entrances?”

Fushiguro rolls his eyes but starts explaining. “Each color indicates a different place.”

Sukuna nods, encouraging the boy to continue.

“The blue one is the city.” Fushiguro points his finger at the blue light above the door. “The black one’s off-limits to everyone except for Gojo sensei.”

“And what is the yellow one for?”

Fushiguro shrugs. “I don’t know.”

“Where’s Yuji?”

“Coming!” Yuji yells from the top of the stairs. “Can I bring the raven with us?”

“If he wants to come with, then yes.” Sukuna yells back.

Fushiguro shakes his head tiredly. “Lord have mercy.”

When Yuji finally comes down the stairs, all four of them are ready to head out.

The raven caws a sound that resembles a hoarse ‘hi’. Sukuna extends his hand, and the bird jumps from Yuji’s hold into Sukuna’s arm and climbs up to his shoulder carefully.

He pats the raven on the head. “What’s up?”

He rubs his head against Sukuna’s palm and croaks quietly.

“Let’s go.”

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The market is busy, onlookers bustle around the stalls, and vendors yell at the customers. The kids cling to Sukuna, each one on his side, overwhelmed by the atmosphere.

Sukuna navigates the space easily – not much has changed since he stopped working here almost ten years ago. He recognizes some of the vendors he used to help around.

He doubts they’d recognize him now, though.

They go to buy some groats. In there, Yuji enchants a lady by the counter and earns himself some free sweets.

After a full hour of shopping, they have their hands full with groceries: Yuji’s carrying a bag of fruits and vegetables, Fushiguro has a smaller bag with flour, and Sukuna has a bag of rice, fish, and meat.

The last thing on their list is sweets for Satoru. As they approach the stall, Sukuna sees a yellow cape in the distance.

A short man with a walking stick.

Grey skin and dark purple nails.

Send Gojo my regards.

Despite his overwhelming urge to go after the sorcerer, Sukuna has to restrain himself, grabbing the bunch of sweets and squeezing them in his fist.

He feels the temperature in his body rise, veins popping on the side of his neck and his forehead. His body trembles with unreleased anger, his breathing slow and difficult.

He has to calm down.

He can’t go after him.

He can’t leave the kids alone. He also can’t take them with him, if he goes on the hunt for the old man – he can’t endanger them.

Yuji tugs on his sleeve, weirdly attuned to the lightest shifts in Sukuna’s mood. “Ryoumen sensei?”

He breathes out slowly and looks down on the kid, doing his best to pretend that nothing is wrong. “Yeah?”

The boy watches him carefully, shakes his head, and smiles brightly. “Can we get some strawberry lollipops?”

“Go ahead.” Sukuna lets them and tries to look for the old man again, searching for him with his stare. It’s useless – he already left.

But he was close.

And that just means that Sukuna has a chance to catch him at last.

He’d just have to be patient.

And like the great fighter he is, he can be patient like a motherfucking saint when he needs to.

And going back to his normal life?

Sukuna would say it’s worth the wait.

Chapter Text

The rest of the day goes by unremarkably until the doorbell rings, catching Sukuna off-guard amidst cooking.

When they returned from their grocery shopping trip, the kids asked if they could have ramen for dinner.

Sukuna got down to cooking their meal at once.

Preparing food, the same as cleaning up is a meditative process for him. Sukuna has at least two hours to spend thinking through recent events.

The most concerning thing about this ordeal is that the old sorcerer who cursed him is near.

And he probably knows where Sukuna is.

If he has any other motives aside from simply hexing Sukuna, which is probably the case, this could be a huge problem. He could start targeting the kids and Satoru.
Sukuna has to let Gojo know of it.

He has to talk to the boys about staying alert around strangers. If Satoru hadn’t bothered to teach these kids a lesson about strangers, Sukuna would have been ready and willing to give them a lecture.

When the doorbell rings, Yuji darts to the door and flings it open. Sukuna follows closely on his heels, sharp kitchen knife in tow — you never know who’s behind the door, after all.

The man behind the door greets Yuji and enters the hallway, closing the door behind himself softly. He stares Sukuna in the eyes, although it’s hard to tell which eyes he is looking at because his gaze is hidden behind the thick, dark green glasses.

The stranger is tall, not taller than Sukuna, but still above average, with slicked-back blond hair and a weird-looking tie. He is wearing a tight-fitting formal attire that makes him look like a nobleman.

The man takes a step toward Sukuna and starts loosening his patterned tie.

Sukuna feels a surge of energy radiating off the man. It’s thick and dark, sprouting from him in irregular, swirling waves. It’s supposed to be threatening, but Sukuna doesn’t feel alarmed in the slightest.

Whomever he is, and however strong he might be, he is still nothing compared to Satoru and his magic that leaves Sukuna feeling lightheaded.

He grins and gets ready to fight, feet placed shoulder width apart, left foot slightly in front of the right, both hands above chin high. Sukuna feels excited about the prospect of the fight. He wants to test his skills against the sorcerer, to see how he would do against somebody who is way stronger than Hisao.

“Yuji,” The mysterious man calls, eyes still glued to Sukuna. “Who is this?”

Yuji looks at the man and smiles widely. “It’s Ryoumen sensei.”

“And who is Ryoumen sensei?” He proceeds, squinted eyes flickering between the boy and Sukuna, both hands clenched in tight fists and feet planted steadily on the floor.

“Satoru hired me.” Sukuna responds in Yuji’s stead. “I’m the new housekeeper.”

The man looks at the kid for confirmation. Yuji nods enthusiastically, still blissfully unaware of what is transpiring right in front of his eyes.

“He cooked for us and made me learn math.” The boy adds with a little groan. “I only agreed ‘cause he promised to teach me how to fight.”

The man nods and tightens the tie around his neck. And just like that, the energy evaporates like it wasn’t there at all.

Huh?

Sukuna’s body relaxes unwillingly, and his hands drop to his sides uselessly — he is kinda disappointed now. He really wanted to fight.

“Kento Nanami.” The man says, approaching Sukuna and extending his hand for a courteous handshake.

Sukuna takes the hand and gives it a firm squeeze. The stranger’s palm is wide and meaty, its grip is strong, almost enough to hurt. It is a declaration of strength, probably.

Sukuna chuckles inwardly and grips the pale palm tighter, his short, dark purple nails digging into the outer side of the stranger’s pale-skinned palm. “Ryoumen.”

The tension between them is almost palpable, the glances they cast at each other are cold and calculating.

The atmosphere changes as Fushiguro enters the hallway. He greets the blond man and looks at both of them skeptically.

The man snaps out of his thoughts and retracts his hand, clearing his throat as he does so.

“Yuji, Fushiguro,” He turns away from Sukuna and takes his jacket off. “We’ll have a short lesson today.”

The boys get seated in the living room, ready for their lesson. Sukuna looks around himself, still startled by the entire situation.

The raven comes padding the floor quickly and jumps into Sukuna’s arms. The bird looks at him, tilting his head to the side, a silent question in his eyes. ‘What was that?’

Sukuna shrugs. “Hell if I know.”

He searches his mind for an answer.

If his brain could pull up the knowledge of big names and ancient techniques seemingly out of nowhere, he probably should know about how that tie trick works.

A binding vow.
A restriction the sorcerers impose on themselves to increase their power output.

Sukuna hums thoughtfully to himself and returns to the kitchen to continue preparing the dinner. And if he catches a man staring suspiciously at him, he doesn’t pay him any mind.
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________

It’s 8 p.m. when the door to the house opens again.

Standing with his back turned to the entrance, Sukuna rearranges the stuff on the dresser in the hallway when he hears the shuffling behind the door before it opens.

His body reacts instantly, turning around to face the door. That is when Gojo bumps into him face-first. Instinctively, Sukuna puts his arms out and catches the sorcerer by his shoulders, squeezing them tightly.

Satoru’s breath is hot against the fabric of his shirt, and a shiver runs down Sukuna’s spine, but he doesn’t let go of the man in his arms, pushing him back slightly.

“Ugh, ‘scuse me.” Satoru grumbles, rubbing his forehead tiredly. “What’s up?”

“You okay?” Sukuna asks, taking his hands off Gojo’s shoulders. His body sways just slightly, and Sukuna’s hands rise again, ready to catch him.

“Just tired.” The sorcerer responds shortly, taking an unsteady step back. “How was your day, Ryoumen?”

Sukuna moves to the side to let Gojo pass by, but the hallway is not wide enough to fit both of them.

Satoru heads to the living room, his head tilted to the side to watch Sukuna with his peripheral vision.

“So?”

Sukuna follows closely after, one step behind, just in case.

“I have to tell you something.” He says, watching Satoru’s slouched back. “It’s important.”

“Can it wait until the morning?” Gojo asks, eyes dull and insensible when he looks around aimlessly. “I'm not in the mood to talk right now.”

As he enters the living room, his attitude changes and a mask of cheerful and carefree demeanor glues back up on his face.

“Hello, everyone!” Gojo speaks up and waves his hand.

He smiles at them, but it is forced, and wrong, so, so wrong, Sukuna wants to smack the expression off his face.

“Hello, Nanamin!” Gojo adds, looking at the man curiously. “Didn’t expect to see you with us today.”

“Satoru, a word?” He asks instead of responding and stands up from the couch.

Sukuna sees Gojo’s shoulders tense — it is a quick, almost inconspicuous movement, but he notices it, regardless.

Nanami heads deeper into the house with Gojo following him closely behind. Sukuna turns around, watching the two of them disappear behind one of the doors. The boys don’t pay attention to them, entranced by their studies.

Sukuna goes after the sorcerers, stumbling upon a closed door. He overhears the blond man’s voice, raised in volume and irritated.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asks tiredly. “I could’ve hurt him.”

“You?” Satoru chuckles mirthlessly. “Nah.”

Sukuna looks through the gap in the doorway and sees the blonde man, Kento-whatever, looking at Gojo skeptically, and crossing his arms over his chest.

“You’ve seen him,” Gojo adds, bumping his shoulder against the man as he passes him by. “He could snap you in half.”

Gojo is right in front of the door, his hand against the handle when the blonde man speaks up.

“You can sense it too, right?” He inquires, approaching Satoru slowly. “Something is off about him.”

Sukuna tenses and draws back from the door, but still keeps in the hearing distance. The last thing he catches before getting away is Satoru’s face scrunched up in a pained expression, his knuckles white and fists closed tightly.

He doesn’t respond.

“As a friend, I won’t judge you.” Nanami says calmly, his voice getting closer. “But as a teacher, I say that you have to put your act together, Satoru.”

Sukuna anticipates the door opening and goes away before he gets caught eavesdropping.

The door opens and the blonde sorcerer comes out of the room. He turns around and gives Satoru a long, meaningful look.

“If not for yourself, then do it for the kids.”

Around the corner, Sukuna lets out a long, quiet, ragged breath, his hands trembling a little. His heart is beating frantically in his chest. Nervously, shakily, Sukuna slicks his hair back with his palm and returns to the kitchen, trying to calm himself down. Unwanted thoughts swarm his brain like a flock of maggots, nipping and tearing his mind up from the inside.

Something is happening with Satoru.

But also, did he notice Sukuna spying on them?

When he enters the living room, everyone is already in there. The tall blonde man is standing in the middle of the room, next to the kids, while Satoru is in the archway leading to the hallway.

“Will you stay for dinner?” Yuji asks, looking up at his teacher. “Pretty please?”

“Not this time, Yuji.” Nanami responds, looking at Satoru discontentedly. “But thank you for the invitation.”

He leaves shortly after, and the kids are the ones who sent him off.

Satoru is still standing in the archway, tall and unmoving. His posture is straight, but stiff, eyes glassy and clouded, not really here.

“You guys go ahead and eat, don’t wait for me.” Satoru smiles and pats the boys on the shoulders, facial expression blank. Not present. “I’m not hungry.”

“Are you tired, sensei?” Yuji asks worriedly, looking at Gojo with his lively, empathetic hazel eyes.

“Yeah.” He responds simply and starts climbing the stairs. “I’m going to bed early tonight.”

Fushiguro looks at him, his eyes squinted thoughtfully. He holds back, his lips tremble with unvoiced question. The boy shakes his head and turns away from the Satoru’s retreating figure.

“See you tomorrow.”

What is going on?
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The three of them have dinner, the boys are unusually quiet the entire time — or, rather, Yuji is. Fushiguro is silent and reserved like he usually is, but his face is concerned.

Almost burdened.

Sukuna catches Fushiguro’s gaze and tilts his head to the side. “You’re worried about Satoru, aren’t you?”

Fushiguro’s head snaps in Sukuna’s direction, his face a picture of genuine annoyance and surprise. “It’s not my business.”

It seems that Satoru’s well-being is nobody’s business but his own.

“You can ask him, you know?” Sukuna says, looking the boy in the eyes. “You don’t have to pretend not to care.”

Fushiguro rises and takes a plate with his nearly untouched dinner, his movements short and jerky. “Don’t act like you know anything.”

Sukuna doesn’t react and keeps quiet, still watching the boy in front of him.

“Sorry.” He sits back down, setting the plate back on the table in front of himself. “It was rude.”

Sukuna shrugs, “I don’t care about rudeness.” He pours a cup of fragrant green tea into the kids’ cups. “I just don’t want you to feel like you have to bottle up your emotions.”

“Gojo sensei took me in a year ago.” Fushiguro says, completely off-topic. “Because my dad wanted to sell me out to my clan.”

Sukuna almost choked on a tea he was sipping and had to stifle a cough – he didn’t expect Fushiguro to open up. He also didn’t expect the boy to get orphaned because his deadbeat dad decided that money was more important than being a father.

“He was short on money, I guess.” The kid continues softly, fragile. “But I don’t know the full story.”

He stands up again, more calmly this time. “Because Gojo just wouldn’t tell me.”

“Do you think that maybe-” Sukuna clears his throat, taking a second to formulate his thoughts. “He doesn’t tell you because he doesn’t want to hurt you even more?”

“I have a right to know.” Fushiguro insists, his fists clenched and his back still turned away from Sukuna’s piercing ruby eyes.

Sukuna nods, “You do.”

“Then why-”

“Ask him.” Sukuna responds simply and drowns a cup of tea in one gulp. “Tell him how it makes you feel.”

“I tried.” Fushiguro sighs tiredly, placing his plate near the sink.

“Try again, then.” Sukuna shrugs and leans back on the uncomfortably small kitchen chair. “It’s not my business, of course, but-”

“If I were you, I’d be more persistent.” He adds, smiling sideways, pensively. “Maybe not today, and not tomorrow, but I’d demand answers. ‘Cause you’ll never get anything in life unless you ask for it.”

Fushiguro looks at him, his face concentrated and his teeth pulling a side of his bottom lip.

“But that’s just my opinion.” Sukuna concludes, standing up to clean up after dinner. “You don’t have to listen to me.”

“Okay.” Fushiguro nods weakly. “Thanks for the dinner.”

“And for the talk.” He adds nonchalantly, and leaves the kitchen, his posture no longer stiff. “Good night.”

“Good night, Fushiguro.” Sukuna responds, catching the kid walking away with his peripheral vision.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Around midnight, in the comfort of his small, uselessly cluttered room, Sukuna hears Satoru leave the confines of his chamber.

The sorcerer moves quickly, but as quietly as possible. At first, he guesses that Gojo finally decided to eat.

It would’ve been a perfect opportunity to have a normal talk with him, finally.

When he hears the bell above the door ring, signifying a turn of the hand of the clock-like device, he knows that there is no way that he could catch Gojo.

The door opens and closes. Sukuna stops feeling the sorcerer’s presence in the house.

In a weird, dream-like haze, he leaves the room and gets down to the hallway.

Once again, the black light is shining dimly above the heavy wooden door. He has half a mind to simply swing it open and follow Satoru, just to see the mysterious place for himself.

In the end, he decides against it – given the circumstances, leaving the kids alone is not the best idea.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Sometime during the long, sleepless night, the door opens again.

Sukuna shoots up on the bed, his fight or flight instinct kicking in. He feels Satoru’s presence, the sorcerer’s energy erratic and drained, but still so strong and imposing.

He hears Satoru drag his feet across the stairs. One step at a time, painfully slow. As if every movement took immense effort and hurt him in the process. Perhaps, it does.

But it’s not Sukuna’s business — wherever Gojo disappears to for the entirety of the day or in the dead of the night. Whatever keeps him busy and makes him come home in such a worn-out state, whatever is the reason his bright blue eyes turn ice cold and dull — Satoru made sure Sukuna knew it wasn’t his place to ask.

After all, it’s not like they are friends. Or anything, really.

He suspects that Gojo had an ulterior motive or some weird, nonsensical reason when he asked Sukuna to stay and work for him, but it doesn’t matter. It is way easier to pretend that he doesn’t care.

He does.

Satoru is mysterious and elusive, walls behind walls of trained reactions, fake smiles, and forced goofiness that don’t suit him, at all.

Sukuna wants to know what’s inside. What is he hiding behind the bravado and his deep cerulean eyes? He would have given the world to peek into Gojo’s impossible mind for just a second.

He hears Gojo get closer, burdened steps echoing in the dead of the night. Somehow, Sukuna feels his frantic energy right behind the door, coming off of him in irregular waves, depleted. Tired. And yet, still burning around him so impossibly bright.

It feels like he is standing right in front of the door, but doesn’t dare to enter.

One step closer, then another.

His presence is strong and overwhelming and makes Sukuna’s heavy heart (did it grow bigger too?) beat faster, like a bird in a little metal cage.

Like it wants to break free.

Sukuna stops breathing, concentrating on listening to the sorcerer behind the door. He is quiet and unmoving, frozen right in the hallway. Breathlessly, soundlessly, Sukuna mouths, ‘Come in’.

The handle moves, if only slightly, but the sound is deafening in total quietness, and Sukuna starts breathing again. He thinks, ‘Come in, what’s stopping you?’.

Gojo never does.

Instead, he turns on his heels and walks away. By the time Sukuna opens the door to call after him, he is gone.

Or maybe he wasn’t there, at all.

Maybe, it was just a trick of Sukuna’s imagination, or his wishful thinking, or whatever.

Sukuna comes back to his small bed. He brushes off the invasive thoughts, hides them deep in the confines of his mind, and closes his eyes tiredly.

“You are a coward.” He says out loud, feeling stupid and disappointed as he does so.

He wants to say more but decides against it.

It’s not going to change anything.

The sleep doesn’t come easily, this time around.

On the other side of the house, Satoru closes the door to his bedroom and breathes out tiredly. He rubs his eyes and curses under his breath.

It’s getting harder and harder to go on like this.

“I know.” He responds, fully realizing that his confession falls on deaf ears.

He thinks, uselessly, about what could’ve happened if he just gathered enough willpower and entered the room. What would’ve happened then?

It seems that he’ll never know now.