Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

As soon as Yuji consumed the finger, he burned. Liquid, biting fire raked his throat and stomach, bleeding out into the rest of his body until all he felt was all-consuming heat. It felt like he was being eaten from the inside out until all that remained was ash. His body moved on its own like a puppet controlled by strings; each movement was jerky and instinctual. The curse that was about to consume him was slashed into a mess of viscera and gore. 

How annoying, he thought. His hand was jutted out in front of him, and it slowly fell. How bold it was to attack him. Did it really think it could eat him? No, it wasn't just bold, it was stupid as well. But they— 

Curses they—

—even after—

It looked—

Maybe he could—

—but they—

Because Ur–

He sighed and raked his hand through his hair, breathing in the city air. 

Hm?

What was Yuji thinking about again? 

“Fushiguro!” he exclaimed, turning back to the other boy. His eyes glanced over Fushiguro’s body, looking to see how bad his injuries were. The boy was posed with two of his arms held in front of him with closed fists. It wasn't how one would attempt to attack someone, was it? Nor was it good for defense. So it must've been some sort of Jujutsu technique. “Man, we should really see a doctor!”  

Fushiguro’s body tensed, shifting his feet apart to brace himself. He wavered, though unsure if he should use his Technique or not. He opened his mouth and then closed it, pressing it into a thin line. 

“Yeah, dude, you’re banged up pretty bad,” Yuji went on as if Fushiguro wasn't so tense. He didn't think the other would actually hurt him. “We should go to the hospital just to get checked out, even if you don't feel that bad. Adrenaline and stuff can make you not feel your injuries, you know?” 

There was a moment of silence. 

“You’re…you’re not human anymore,” Fushiguro stated, words pulled out of him by force. Each word he uttered looked like it drained energy from him until he was just a pale wisp in the wind. “By Jujutsu regulations, Yuji Itadori, I will have to exercise you as a curse.” 

Yuji blinked. “Huh? But I feel fine though!”

Yuji stretched his body, feeling how his tendons and ligaments pulled and loosened. Actually, he was feeling better than before. He rotated his shoulder, feeling how light his body felt now, like he woke up from a super relaxing nap and went on a light morning jog. He felt like he could run for days! Maybe eating that nasty finger wasn't the worst decision. It saved both of their lives, even if it wasn't his most intelligent decision. Yeah, he would probably have to start watching what he puts into his mouth.

“Now what's going on here?” Another voice rang out, getting Yuji out of his thoughts. He glanced to Fushiguro’s left and saw a tall man, dressed in all black with spiky white hair. His eyes were covered with a sleek black sleeping mask, but he seemingly had no trouble walking or finding where things were. Something itched at the back of Yuji’s head in recognition, but for some reason, he could not place the man. He didn't think the man was forgettable, not with that appearance, but something was just out of reach in his recollection. 

Fushiguro turned quickly as he spotted the man. “Gojo-sensei! What are you doing here?” 

Gojo chuckled, taking quick shots of Fushiguro’s injured form with his phone. He muttered about showing it to the second years. “Well, I wasn't going to come. But those pesky higher-ups got their panties in a twist when that special-grade object went missing. I wanted to go sightseeing too! But anyways, did you find it?” 

Yuji chuckled nervously, raising his hand and pointing to himself, “Sorry about that. But I ate that thing.” 

Gojo opened his mouth with a soft, strangled sound. 

He closed it. 

“For real?” he asked. 

“For real,” Both Fushiguro and Yuji answered at once. 

Gojo learned to look closer at Yuji. Their noses were practically touching with how close the man got to him. The hairs on the back of Yuji’s neck stood up as they made pseudo ‘eye contact’ through Gojo’s mask. The man hummed, tilting his head to the left and then to the right. 

“Could you see curses before eating that finger?” Gojo asked, cursorily, not backing away. 

“Hm? Not really, I guess,” Yuji responded, cupping his jaw. He thought back on the day’s events. “Just today, you know? But Fushiguro said it was normal for me to be seeing them because of being near death and being in the school with so much activity. At least I think it was something like that.” 

He looked back at Fushiguro to confirm, and the other boy nodded. 

Gojo hummed again, cupping his own jaw. “How interesting. They mixed together.” 

The man pulled back, taking a couple of steps back as Yuji tried to understand what the man said. 

“Hey kid, do you think you could switch out with Sukuna?” Gojo asked, stretching.

Yuji tilted his head. The name made shivers crawl up his spine. A flash of fire burned in his guts, making him feel like he was being melted from the inside out.  “Sukuna?”

“The curse you ate,” Gojo explained. “Just 10 seconds is fine.”

Yuji furrowed his brow. “Wait, switch out? How would I even do that?” 

Gojo stopped his stretching. “Huh?”

Yuji raked his hand through his hair once more. His hair slicked back easily, and it was comforting to have his hair off his forehead. Maybe he could style it like that more often. He shook his head, ridding himself of those unnecessary thoughts. “I don't really get what you're saying. There’s not one to switch out with…” 

Yugi's voice trailed off in uncertainty. If he thought about this using his knowledge of movies, Gojo most likely thought that Yuji was possessed in some way. But Yuji was alone in his body. If he mentally prodded around using cursed energy haphazardly, he couldn't feel anything but himself. Maybe he wasn't trying hard enough? Or maybe he wasn't good at using cursed energy at all. He only had access to it for like 20 minutes or less at this point. 

Both of the other two froze, sparing a glance at each other.

“So no Sukuna?” Gojo asked Yuji and then glanced at Fushiguro. 

“He seemed to be himself the whole time,” Fushiguro responded, swaying a bit on his feet. “Is that even possible?” 

Gojo shrugged. “Who knows! It’s not like any sane person goes around eating cursed fingers! We don't have a lot of data to compare to!” 

“I already said sorry for that,” Yuji mumbled. “Was that guy supposed to take over my body?” 

“That or you’d die,” Gojo said bluntly, leaning in to look at the boy closely once more. “It's odd that you can't feel his presence at all. Are you really sure that he's not there at all?” 

Yuji made a confirming sound as Gojo stepped a bit closer, as if the man was trying to peer into his very soul.

“And you're not expecting to have, let's say in a very hypothetical manner, four arms?” Gojo asked, his hand cupping his chin. 

“No,” Yuji drawled. Four arms? Why four arms? The very thought of it gave him goosebumps. 

“Or a second pair of eyes? Or maybe a thirst for human flesh?” Gojo continued. 

Yuji spluttered. “No! What does that have to do with anything!” 

“You never know!” Gojo responded before pressing two of his fingers to Yuji’s head, knocking him out cold. 

Yuji sorted through a number of cardboard boxes. Each one was filled to the brim with various items owned by Yuji and his grandfather. It reminded him of the time they moved into this home. It had taken them hours to move the boxes as his grandfather refused to get any help. Most of the boxes and pieces of furniture were brought in by Yuji. Even back then, he could carry them all by himself. His grandfather had put him to work that day, and Yuji couldn't bring himself to mind. He was much stronger than his grandfather after all. They had ordered out too, eating cheap fast food at the dinner table together while an old movie played in the background. It was a fond memory that Yuji had practically forgotten. But he remembered it in this gutted house with stomach-turning nostalgia.

Now he was packing things away with help from the movers Gojo had hired. All he really had to do was instruct them which boxes to take to the storage facility and which ones he would take. Most boxes were being stored as they were filled with things his grandfather had collected over the years that Yuji did not need. Then there was the furniture and his grandfather’s clothes. There wasn't a lot in the house. His grandfather had never been a maximalist, and neither was Yuji. His grandfather didn't spend much time at home either, and never had time to decorate it or make the house look lived in. The only room that had any sign of habitation was Yuji’s room. It had his desk, his manga, a couple of posters above his bed, and his lamp. His closet had his clothes in it, and it mostly consisted of hoodies and jeans. He had never been good at deciding what to wear, so it was the only sort of clothes he bought with his allowance. 

He laid his hand on his grandfather’s door. It was the last room he had to go through. The movers had already moved out the furniture, loading it on their truck. Now it was time for Yuji to go through all of his grandfather’s things and decide to bring them with him to school, pack them away, and put them on the truck, or sell them, he supposed.

Could he even bring himself to sell his grandfather’s things?

He opened the closet and glanced over his clothes. It seemed like ages since his grandfather had worn any of these things and not a hospital gown. He brought the clothes up to his nose to sniff them, hoping for a trace of his grandfather’s scent or the same cheap cologne he wore. He found nothing but the smell of detergent. Somehow, that realisation brought him to tears. He inhaled, making a loud, choked sound, and tilted his head back to look at the ceiling. He would not cry, he told himself; his grandfather wouldn't want to see him cry again. That thought made it harder for him to hold back tears. He just wanted something of his grandfather back. He wanted his grandfather. He wanted to drink tea with him once more or maybe take a walk in the park. He wanted to sit next to him as they watched a documentary. He wanted to—

He wanted a lot of things. 

He sighed, taking his grandfather’s clothes off their racks and placing them into a cardboard box, folding them as neatly as he could. His grandfather hated his clothes being wrinkly. He hated Yuji wearing wrinkled clothes too, always ironing his school uniform every morning until he got sick. Then he would just nag Yuji about it every time Yuji visited him. His grandfather’s clothes still seemed freshly ironed, smooth, and soft even after years of simply hanging there. He held up one of his grandfather’s shirts and sighed as he realized he was too big for the man’s clothes. He remembered the time when he was too small—

He shook his head, shaking the thought away lest he go down another spiral of memories. He finished folding all his grandfather’s clothes and placing them into the box. He brought the boxes on the top shelf down and sat on the floor to go through them. He snorted as he opened the first one, finding a bottle of brandy. 

“Damn grandpa,” Yuji chuckled, placing the half-empty bottle next to him. He could only hope that this bottle was old and that his grandfather wasn't drinking when he started having problems with his liver.  “No wonder I wasn't allowed in these boxes.” 

He found some old papers, a torn-up collection of books, and a couple of watches. The papers were yellowed and torn, just some old bills from around the time Yuji was young. Why his grandfather still had them, he didn't know. His grandpa had some odd and old habits. The books were just as old. He thumbed through the pages; they were old storybooks his grandfather had tried reading to him to make him fall asleep. But he never took any interest in them, and his grandfather quickly switched to a different book that Yuji thinks his parents read him before bed. It was the only book he could fall asleep to, and his grandfather read it begrudgingly because of that, though not without a snide comment or two every night. Yuji had already packed that book away. It didn't matter that the cover had fallen off along with the first few pages and that the pages had yellowed, as he still needed the book to sleep some nights. 

He tried the watches on, staring at his reflection in the shine. He stared at himself for a second, his fingers tracing the crescent-shaped marks he received after eating Sukuna’s finger. Yuji wondered why he gained them. Like he knew he gained them because he ate the finger, but he wanted to know what their purpose was. Was it a marking? Some sort of branding? He rubbed a bit harder on one of the marks, feeling his skin shift and move. He felt something beneath his skin, something like a soft, small ball. It was squishy and maybe a bit slimy. Was Slimy the right word? It was goopy? Like when a scab gets really wet and gets all white and soft. He rubbed for a bit longer, wondering what Sukuna’s finger did to his body, before removing his finger and the watch. He placed one of the watches in his keep pile and the other three in the other. 

He sorted a lot of things in the ‘get rid of’ pile, enough that he had placed the pile back into the boxes. He only had the watch in his keep pile, but it was nice going through his grandfather’s things, comforting in a way he hadn't expected.  He pulled the last box towards him, brushing off a thick layer of dust. He opened the box and was met with his own face. 

He took the photo out of the box and stared at it. He looked to be about six, but he might have been five or maybe even four due to how Yuji was always bigger than kids his age. He was dressed in overalls, grinning with missing teeth as he sat on someone's lap.  His thumbs traced over his face, then went over a pink-haired man’s. His father, he remembered, was his father. He stared at the man’s face, marveling at how similar they looked. 

“We could've been twins,” Yuji mused, staring at the man's face. He tilted his head, trying to find differences. His father’s forehead seemed a bit smaller than his, and the shape and color of their eyes were different. His father had smaller eyes and a deeper brown color hidden under his red glasses. It wasn't a stark difference, but it was noticeable if he looked. There was also the fact that his father just looked older and more mature, looking about ten or so years older than Yuji.  

His father held Yuji in his arms, looking so profoundly fond of him. The sight squeezed at Yuji’s heart, taking the breath out of him. His father looked at him like something to be cherished. He looked at him as if he were some priceless treasure and held Yuji on his lap just like one. He tore away from his father’s gaze, exhaling loudly. His eyes drifted to the other person in the photo and stared for a different reason.

Her face was completely scribbled out with a black marker. But Yuji knew this was his mother. Call it an instinct or just a gut feeling, but Yuji knew. He didn't remember her face or her name, but he knew her. She dressed in all black, each piece of clothing loose and smooth. One hand hung at her side, and the other rested at the back of his father’s neck. Her sharp, carefully filed nails dug lightly into his neck, but it looked like his father didn't mind at all. He wet his finger with some spit and rubbed it on the marker, hoping it would get rid of the marker, but failed to remove it. He held up the photo to the light and couldn't see even an outline of his mother’s face. 

“Damn you, gramps,” Yuji muttered, before wincing at the fact that he cursed the dead not even two days after the man had died. He placed the photo in his keep pile and went through the box again. He found nothing of interest, just some of Yuji’s old grade school photos and old shoes, and clothes. Some of those shoes and clothes could've been his father’s, but he didn't think his grandfather was the type of person to hang onto those types of things for so long. 

He took the ‘get rid of’ box out into the hallway and pocketed the watch and photo as he went to his bedroom—his old bedroom. It was empty of all furniture and only had the boxes that he was bringing to school. He kicked a box out of his way and sprawled out on the floor. He sighed, feeling exhausted even though all he had done today was sort through boxes. Well…he did get the news he was going to be executed for hosting Sukuna’s cursed energy in his body even though the curse had not manifested in him at all. His fingers drifted to the markings under his eyes before he let his hand drop to the floor. It was such bullshit. Yuji was in complete control of himself! But they decided to watch over him in case he went crazy or if Sukuna took over him or…something. He would really have to ask Gojo to explain to him more when he had the chance, as he wasn't really paying attention to what he was saying the first time around. He was more worried about getting executed. 

It wasn't the worst thing to die for. His death had a purpose at least. He was going to be used as a sacrificial lamb to rid the world of Ryomen Sukuna, the king of curses, once and for all. From what he understood, Sukuna was a poison that caused a lot of suffering in the world. His very presence was a poison to everything and everyone around, and Yuji could and will take that poison into himself to spare others from the suffering. His energy would lie dormant and shielded within Yuji’s body until it would be snuffed out like a flame the day he died. 

He sighed and heard his phone buzzing. He fished it out of his pocket and fumbled to answer the call. 

“Hey,” Yuji greeted. He tried to add some pep into his tone, but he sounded monotone and exhausted. God, he needed to get himself together.

“Yuji!” Gojo drew out excitedly. “It's time to go! The movers got all the last of the stuff out of the house! Are you ready?” 

Yuji blinked and checked the time. How long has it been? He swore the movers were just here.

“Yeah,” he said, sitting up and grabbing his three boxes. He laid his phone on his shoulder as he maneuvered out of his old room and out of his old apartment. “Sorry if I made you wait.” 

He gave one last look behind him, to the apartment he had lived in for years, before closing the door and going down the stairs. 

“Here,” Gojo said after Yuji paid his respects to his grandfather. In his hand, he held another one of Sukuna’s fingers. Yuji took it and ignored how natural it felt to hold it. It fits perfectly into the curve of his grip. It was a nice weight, and it even felt pleasant to the touch. It made him shiver, the cursed energy within him reacting to being so close to another one of his parts. 

He held it up, staring at it before glancing up at Gojo’s serene smiling face. With a small gulp, he opened his mouth wide and threw the finger into it. He cupped his mouth with both hands as the cursed energy flared within him. He leaned against the wall, feeling as if bugs were crawling up and down his body. He glanced down at his wrists and saw black markings. For some reason, he knew that the tattoos were all over his body. Another marking from Sukuna, he figured as he tried to distract himself from the awful taste coating his mouth. The tattoos weren't even bad-looking. He sort of liked them, actually. His body shook as he laughed hysterically into his hands. Here he was eating an ancient finger, and he was thinking about tattoos. He quickly straightened himself out with a gasp. 

“Ma,n that tasted horrible!” Yuji exclaimed, grabbing at his throat where he was sure Sukuna’s nail had scratched the inside. It would heal soon, he knew. He always healed quickly. He licked the inside of his mouth, trying to purge the remnants of the taste. “Why does it taste so bad?” 

Gojo snorted. “Huh? Did you think it would taste good?” 

“No! Just not this bad,” Yuji responded. His eyes were trained on Gojo’s face, his curse energy shifting under his skin. He couldn't tell what the other man was thinking when his face was so serene, as if nothing was wrong at all. As if Yuji wasn't eating a curse’s fingers, preparing himself for execution. Yuji’s face was scrunched up in return, wanting to rid himself of the taste as soon as possible. He needed something to drown out the taste, like water or maybe something stronger, like coffee. His eyes were drawn to Gojo’s neck for some reason. He couldn't help but wonder if he could sink his teeth into the man’s throat and—

“What did it taste like?” Gojo said, smiling still, clearly pleased with the outcome. 

“Soap,” Yuji responded, looking at the man’s face. Yuji tilted his head. “But it's really acidic too. Like if you used a bar of soap to clean up vomit and then swallowed that, I guess?” 

Yuji continued to try to lick the flavor out of his mouth, not noticing the way Gojo’s smile wavered at those words. 

“Let's get you something to cover that taste up. I think I saw a vending machine around here.” Gojo said as he ruffled Yuji’s hair and led him out the door. 

Yuji was in awe over the sprawling campus. It was so large, and each building was made tastefully and traditionally. It was away from the city noise and the smells, tucked away in the mountains. 

“Is this really Tokyo?” He questioned aloud, putting a hand over his eyes to block the shining sun as he looked around. 

“It’s actually not unusual for a Tokyo suburb,” Gojo responded, leading Yuji through the campus. 

“Are we going to see Fushiguro?” Yuji asked excitedly. “Is he doing okay?” 

Gojo waved a hand. “Hm? Yeah, he's doing fine. He should be napping right now. But you should worry about yourself right now. After all, you have an interview with the principal. Just be cool, okay? You don't wanna mess it up if you want to be admitted.” 

Yuji stopped with his mouth agape. “Wouldn't I just be executed then?”

Gojo snorted and ruffled Yuji’s hair. “You'll be fine. I think Yaga will take a liking to you. I mean,n you're pretty crazy for eating Sukuna’s finger, you know? That’s already taking care of one part of what it takes to be a Jujutsu sorcerer.” 

Yuji let out a soft chuckle as the man messed up his hair. “Yeah, I guess so.” 

Yuji looked up at Gojo, taking in the man’s appearance and trying to see if he was that assured of Yuji’s success. Gojo was hard to read due to the fact that Yuji didn't know him that well, and because his eyes were covered. 

“Sukuna was the guy whose fingers I ate, right?” Yuji asked, filling up the comfortable silence. “I understand that he was a bad guy and that his fingers are dangerous, but who was he?” 

“Ryomen Sukuna was a demon with two faces and four arms,” Gojo began, his tone making Yuji think Gojo was repeating something he had heard or said many times before. “In reality, he was a human who lived about a thousand years ago during the Golden Age of Jujutsu. Any Jujutsu sorcerers who had tried to defeat him failed. He became a series of cursed objects; the fingers you ate. No matter how much we tried, we couldn't find any way to destroy them. Well, I guess until you.” 

Yuji hummed in understanding. “Was he strong? Stronger than you?” 

Yuji knew Gojo was strong. He knew it from the first time he laid eyes on the man. Cursed energy wafted off the man in strong waves like all-powerful static. Standing this close to the man, he could feel this magnetic feeling rolling off of him, drawing in and repelling everything around him all at once. When the man looked at him head-on, the energy seemed to intensify. It always gave Yuji goosebumps when that happened. 

Gojo hummed, cupping his jaw. “Me versus the King of Curses, hm? Well, with the power Yuji ingested, it’d be no problem. With his full power? I’d think it would be a little tough beating him.” 

Yuji could feel a bubbling sort of amusement in his guts. “But would you lose?”

“Nah, I’d win,” Gojo responded easily with an amused huff. 

Yuji chuckled brightly, his worry over his interview almost completely gone. 

“What? Don't think I could do it?” Gojo asked, leaning down to look at Yuji in the eye. Yuji shivered slightly and laughed. “Well, it's not like we’ll find out anyway. With Sukuna not manifesting within you and all.” 

Yuji’s chuckle died down, and an odd feeling clawed its way into his guts. It felt like his intestines were being seared over an open flame. He didn't know where it was from. Maybe from the way his words reminded Yuji of his impending execution, or maybe it was the looming feeling of dread he got from Gojo’s words. Something was going to happen; he didn't know what. But something was going to happen, and he knew that he wouldn't be able to stop it. His chest tightened as his heart pumped erratically. He clutched at his shirt for a split second as he tried to calm himself down. He didn't know what feeling was taking over him. Gojo didn't seem to notice.

“You're fourteen minutes late,” Yaga announced gruffly as he finished making another doll-like, cursed corpse. “Did I not tell you to fix that habit of yours, Satoru? Or are you just trying to make me mad?” 

“Yeesh,” Gojo responded, sighing. “Cut me some slack. Fourteen minutes isn't that long, is it?” 

Yaga sighed, clearly used to this behavior. “This is the kid, huh?” 

Yuji jolted in surprise as he was mentioned, quickly bowing. “I'm Yuji Itadori! It's nice to meet you.” 

“Why are you here?” Yaga asked. 

“For the interview?” Yuji responded with confusion. 

“I mean at the school.” 

“To learn Jujustu?” 

Was Yuji missing something? He was getting more confused as the questioning kept going on. 

“Beyond that. After you learn how to exercise curses and how to use cursed energy, what will you do then?” Yaga asked again. 

“Well, I would collect Sukuna’s fingers,” Yuji said. He thought it was obvious, given the fact that it was the only reason he was alive. 

“Why?” Yaga pressed. For a moment, Yuji wanted to shoot back the obvious response, but held his tongue. Yaga knew about his scheduled execution, surely. Was he seriously going to reject Yuji if he said the wrong thing? If he wasn't up to snuff, would Yaga really give the okay for his execution? “People die from all sorts of things, like illness or just tragic accidents. Can you not accept someone dying from a curse? What makes it different?”

Yuji knew he was dumb, but he really didn't know where this conversation was going. “Loo, I don't really know about any of that. But someone gave me a last request. I don't really care about the details. I just want to help people.” 

“A last request? So you're just going to fight curses because someone else asked you to?” Yaga stood along with one of his cursed corpses. Yuji jolted in surprise, and his heart dropped at the man’s next words. “Disqualified.” 

Yuji stared at the cursed corpse in surprise as it walked closer to him. “That's not a doll?” 

“This is a cursed corpse,” Yaga stated as the corpse lunged at Yuji. He slipped his bag off to block the attack, surprised at how hard the doll had hit him. Yuji had never been hit that hard before, and it almost brought a smile to his face. “It's imbued with my cursed energy. I hold the belief that people are more honest when they're backed up against a wall. Cathy here won't stop attacking until I get a good answer.” 

Yuji leaped back from the doll. He was unsure how hard he could hit this thing without it breaking. He was sure the principal wouldn't take kindly to Yuji breaking his toys during their first meeting. He attempted to kick it at a speed he would be comfortable using against a person, and the doll dodged it easily. He began to get excited; maybe he could actually use his full strength against this thing. 

“It wasn't just anybody who told me that! It was my grandpa!” Yuji countered. With that distraction, the doll got a cheap shot in his face. Yuji scowled and punched it back, increasing his strength but still holding back. The doll fell back, dancing mockingly. 

Yaga clicked his tongue. “Even if it were a family member, it doesn't matter. A family member is just another person after all. Jujutsu sorcerers are always close to death. It's a dangerous job and an unpleasant one. You have to be motivated and crazy to do it. But you want to do it just because someone asked you to? It would've been better if you told me if you were just doing this to postpone your execution.” 

“Shut up! I thought–” Yuji began. 

“Is that it? Is your death going to be in your grandfather’s hands when you get killed by a curse?” Yaga pressed once more. 

Yuji hissed in a breath. “That's a terrible thing to say, you know that?” 

His words made Yuji both angry and surprised. It was said with some sort of finality as if Yaga was sure Yuji was going to die from a curse. As if he had no hope in Yuji’s survival, and that his death was inevitable. As if Yuji’s attendance at his school was a waste of time. But at the same time, he had a feeling Yaga didn't say it to be mean.

“Education includes helping students discover things on their own,” Yaga spoke. “I can't give you all the answers.” 

The doll launched itself at Yuji once more, making the boy roll out of the way. 

“Know this: no Jujutsu sorcerer dies without regrets! If you fight just because your grandfather asked you to, you might end up cursing him in the end. So I'll repeat myself one more time…why are you here?” 

Yuji thought about it, furrowing his brows as the doll launched at him once more. Its movements were getting more predictable.  Yuji was able to easily catch it by the throat. He thought about Yaga’s words. He wanted to help others, and eating Sukuna’s fingers was the only way he could do so. Sure, he could do other things to help others, like becoming a firefighter or a doctor if he were smart enough. His hand clenched down on the doll's throat. He was the only one able to erase Sukuna’s presence. The only one able to consume his fingers and rid the world of his curse. 

The doll struggled under his crushing grip, trying to wiggle free. It made Yuji’s hand subconsciously strangle it harder. He used his legs to pin it.

“Eating Sukuna’s fingers is something only I can do,” Yuji spoke after a moment. “If I somehow escaped my execution and ran away, I don't think I could live with myself. I would know that Sukuna’s fingers would still be out there. If people were still harmed by his fingers, I'd blame myself.” 

Sukuna was his responsibility now. Ever since he ate that finger, consuming that fraction of Sukuna, he tied himself irreparably to the curse. He could feel Sukuna’s energy within him, taking hold within his skin. He felt how it slipped into place, filling up a hole he didn't know existed. When he held the second finger in his hand, he could feel how it resonated with energy within Yuji. It was calling to its other par, and the piece within Yuji responded in turn. 

Yaga smiled. “Satoru showed him his dorm. Make sure not to skimp out on telling him the security and the rules.” 

Yuji blinked in surprise. “Huh?” 

Yaga chuckled softly. “You pass!” 

Yuji beamed in surprise and joy. “Really? I did?” 

Yuji let the doll go, and it fell to the floor, its neck squished and deformed. Yuji snorted at the change in figure. Its plush head was limp to the side as it seemed all stuffing was squeezed out of its neck. Its fat head bounced erratically off its body as it tried hitting Yuji once more. It missed by over a foot and rolled against the floor. 

“Oops,” Yuji said, picking the doll up. It went limp in his hands. Yuji looked down at its floppy body and tilted his head. Was it dead?

Yaga took the doll from Yuji’s hands and cradled it in his arms like a child. “She’s fine, I just released the incantation. You sure did a number on Cathy's neck, though. Was that necessary?”

Yuji flushed softly. He used to have a problem controlling his strength when he was younger. He always broke his toys and his school items without even trying. If it wasn't something at least as strong as a reinforced concert, it was practically paper. After getting scolded by his grandfather for breaking his things too many times, Yuji had gotten a handle on holding back. But it seems like he lost control for a second there in the excitement of everything. 

“Sorry,” Yuji said, rubbing the back of his head. “Is she repairable?” 

“I'll fix her up in no time,” Yaga confirmed. He adjusted his grip on the doll. He glanced at Gojo. “Now just get to your dorm room before I change my mind about your admission.” 

Yuji flushed and hurriedly made his way to Gojo. The man chuckled at his embarrassed expression and pushed him forward towards the door. 

“Bye, Yaga,” Gojo called, waving the man goodbye. 

“He’s always bringing in the most troublesome students. But then again, like attracts like,” Yaga huffed and sat back down to repair Cathy. 

Yuji whistled as he saw his dorm room. It was significantly larger than his room back home. He supposed he should say his old home. This was his home now. Someone had already brought all his boxes into the room and neatly lined them up on the wall nearest to the door. He knelt down to his boxes and opened each of them up. He brought his box of stationery, books, and magazines to the small desk. Then his box of clothes was placed next to the wardrobe. The last box was filled with posters and odd things he had collected over the years to fill up his empty room, along with the book he read to sleep. 

“Man, you barely bought anything with you,” Gojo mused, slipping on a pair of Yuji’s slippers. He watched as Yuji put up posters of Human Earthworm Two on the wall. 

Yuji hummed. “Well, it's not like I’ll need a lot of stuff, right?” 

Silence filled the room. They both knew what he meant by that. Yuji wouldn't need things in the long run because if everything went right, he would be executed very soon. It might take a couple of months, or it might take years. But Yuji was a child, just fifteen, and those years would be some of the most important of his short life. He would not be able to experience most of what others did. He would not even hope for that chance. His fate was set in stone, and Yuji knew that. 

 Gojo’s lips pressed into a thin line.

“Sorry, that was pretty bleak,” Yuji laughed softly. He rubbed the back of his neck as he felt Gojo look at him. Goosebumps rose all over his body. “I didn't mean to bring the mood down.” 

“It's fine,” Gojo responded, his tone no longer teasing. He was melancholy in a way Yuji hadn't seen in all his short time knowing the man. Gojo sighed, his head falling back as he looked at Yuji putting up another poster. “You don't have to fight if you don't want to.” 

Yuji made a questioning sound. “What? I don't think I could do that. I mean, Sukuna’s kind of my responsibility now, isn't he?” 

“If you don't fight, it will push back your date of execution,” Gojo stated, lying on Yuji’s bed. The slippers on his feet were barely on as he kicked his legs. “If you remained off the field, it would be harder for us to find Sukuna’s fingers. I'm sure you already felt how Sukuna’s fingers resonate with you. You act like a radar, and we’d find his fingers at an extremely quick pace because of that.” 

Yuji hummed. “I’d said I would do it, right? I'm not going back on my word.” 

Gojo chuckled softly, sitting up. “Okay, okay. I knew you’d say that.” 

Gojo stood, dragging his slipper-clad feet on the floor as he walked to the door. Yuji followed after him because his grandpa taught him to always walk guests out, and the fact that he wanted his slippers back. 

“Wait, he's next door?” Fushiguro asked as he was walking back to his dorm room. Yuji looked him up and down for any remaining injuries and didn't find anything. He looked like he was never injured in the first place.

Yuji beamed in excitement. “Wait, are we neighbors?” 

“I’d thought it would be more exciting this way,” Gojo explained to Fushiguro with a joyful expression.

Fushiguro frowned and opened his mouth to reply. 

“Anyways,” Gojo went on to cut Fushiguro off. “More importantly, we’re picking up our third first year tomorrow! So make sure to rest up, okay?” 

Yuji nodded eagerly. “Is it just going to be the three of us?” 

“Most classes at Jujutsu schools tend to be small. There are only four second years and two third years. At Kyoto, there are fewer than ten students in total,” Fushiguro explained. 

“Kyoto?” Yuji asked, tilting his head. 

“It's our sister school, you'll meet the people who go there eventually during the School Goodwill event,” he explained further.

Gojo beamed at the mention of that. “It's an annual competition between the two schools! Back when I was a student, we had a four-year winning streak, of course, due to yours truly.” 

“How many years have we won in a row now?” Yuji asked, which made Gojo deflate.

“We won last year,” Gojo explained before slouching and frowning exaggeratedly. “But the year before that was a total loss. Mostly because the first years at the time refused to play.” 

“Well, I'm sure we’ll win this year,” Yuji tried to cheer the man up. He flexed his arm to underline his point. “I'm pretty good at sports, you know.” 

Gojo chuckled. “It's a fighting competition. The students you'll be going against are pretty strong, you know? Well…at least strong in comparison to you right now, as they can use cursed energy.” 

“I wouldn't underestimate Itadori’s strength,” Fushiguro spoke after a moment. He was clearly remembering what Yuji did back at his school. Gojo tilted his head in confusion and consideration. 

Yuji laughed. “I wasn't called the Tiger of West Middle for nothing!” 

Gojo chuckled. “I'll hold you both to it.” 

Gojo pushed Yuji back into his dorm room. “Now get your room set up before it gets too late.” 

Yuji nodded, waving them both goodbye as Fushiguro headed to his own room and Gojo went down the hallway. “Alright! Alright! See you both tomorrow then!” 

Fushiguro held up a hand in goodbye as he retreated back into his dorm room. Gojo did the same, although a bit more cheerfully compared to Fushiguro. Yuji tilted his head at the similarity of their actions. He closed his door and sighed, slicking his hair back before flopping down on his new bed. 

“Man, this thing is uncomfortable,” he groaned. He dragged his hands over his face. He felt the markings on his face pull oddly as he did so. It made him shiver. Suddenly, his skin felt too tight around him. It was as if he were shrink-wrapped in his flesh. He slapped his cheeks as softly as possible. He pulled himself together and started to organize his dorm room. 

He placed his stationery on the desk as neatly as he could, even though he knew it would be messed up as soon as he started using it. He placed all his clothes in his wardrobe, hanging all his clothes within minutes due to how little he had. He placed his three pairs of shoes in front of the wardrobe and cursed when he realized Gojo had taken off with his slippers. His posters of various horror and action movies were hung up within moments. His knick-knacks were placed in random places in the room. His grandfather’s watch was placed on his desk after a moment of deliberation, and his bedtime book was on top of it. His family photo was placed into his wallet because he didn't know where else to put it. It's not like he had a picture frame or anything. He was just happy it fit in his beat-up wallet after folding it once.

He sat on his bed and opened up his wallet to count his cash. He had a decent amount left over from his allowance and the card that was linked to his grandfather’s bank account, which was left to Yuji. He knew there wasn't going to be that much left on it due to his grandfather being unable to work for quite some time, but it should hold him over for a while if he needed any funds. After all, his grandfather was able to pay for his hospital bills and whatever Yuji needed for school and day-to-day life. He could always get a part-time job, too, if that was something the school allowed. He was pretty sure he would get some money from hunting curses at some point, too. 

He threw his wallet across the room and onto his desk before lying down on his bed. He didn't feel like changing into pajamas, brushing his teeth, or taking a shower like he normally did. He was too tired to do so. Yuji turned onto his side and quickly fell asleep.

He sits poised and relaxed, his head resting on one of his hands. The smell of incense filled the large room. A young woman was playing the biwa. Her face was strained in effort and concentration, so much so that her makeup had worn off from where her face creased. The nobles at the banquet talked among themselves, often stopping mid-conversation to praise him. Uraume stood to his left, their expression peaceful and serene, but their eyes were careful and watching. In front of him was a meal offered to him by the owner of the estate. His portions of food were much larger than any of the nobles, but so very meager compared to what he ate normally. 

He didn't care what they were talking about. 

They avoided looking at him directly. Be it for his bared skin, revealing his monstrous maw that split his stomach in half, or for the way he ate with his hands. Knowing the sorcerers of this time, it could've been either. Was it because he was hideous or because he broke a rule of long-standing social etiquette? 

(It was not his fault that the chopsticks and spoons given to him were too small for his hands.) 

One of the last courses of the long meal was set before him. He picked up the bowl of soup and sipped it.

Ah, so that's why they had invited him. 

He had been wondering why they had offered him so much just to share a meal with him. 

They had offered a considerable sum of riches, a multitude of women, and even large collections of poetry just to share this meal with him. 

His bottom right eye drifted to the woman playing the biwa, and he hid his grin behind the poisoned bowl of soup. 

Perhaps he would wash down the sour flavor by tearing out her throat. 

“I really hate insects like you,” he stated, setting down his bowl of soup. He licked the inside of his mouth, trying to get rid of the sour flavor of poison. He felt the energy in the room shift as the weak sorcerers panicked from their plan being found out. 

One noble sorcerer opened his mouth to say something; an excuse or explanation for their treachery. “Sukuna-sam–” 

His head was diced into even cubes. The angular pieces of him fell to the ground with a wet squelch. In a moment, all the nobles in the room were torn to shreds along with most of the room. Blood coated the room in its entirety from the ceiling to the floor. Not all of them were cut into even pieces. Some were slashed lazily in the abdomen, their top half completely separated from the bottom, so not even their spines connected them. Their organs, ruptured and cut, bled from where they were scattered across the room. 

He lazily approached the biwa-playing woman. Her eyes were wide with fear, tears welling in her eyes as her whole body shook. She was like a caught deer or rabbit. A prey animal, surely, not even a spark of fight appeared to shine in her eyes. At least she did not beg, though it would surely be amusing. 

“I had thought requesting one of their daughters to play music while we ate might've swayed them from any ill-advised actions,” he spoke, kneeling down in front of her. But due to his large form, he still loomed above her. He grabbed her hair, pulling her neck back, exposing her pulse point. “Though I knew it would come to this.” 

Her breathing was rapid now, her chest heaving as she struggled to breathe. He laughed, baring his white teeth. It's an impolite thing, especially around nobles like this woman. But he didn't care for such social niceties. No, the only thing he cares about right now is the meal lying in front of him. 

“Sorccers never learn their lessons,” he said finally, sinking his teeth into her throat. A hoarse scream left her before it was cut off when he ripped her throat out. Pathetic wheezes left her before her eyes rolled back. He chuckled, just like a rabbit or deer, and she fainted. He could feel her heartbeat slowing down as she bled out.  

He chewed and swallowed slowly, savoring the taste of blood and flesh. She was a wisp of a thing, thin and pale. Though her paleness could be attributed to the makeup all the noble women had taken to wearing. But human bodies, no matter how frail, always have a lot to give. She might not be giving in meat, but that did not mean she didn't have her uses. Her blood was smooth, rich, and much like every human; abundant. It drowned out the sour flavor that plagued his mouth and replaced it with a gamey sweetness. 

He stood up and—

He jolted awake, sweating and shaking as he panted. He somehow felt like he was burning but freezing at the same time. One hand clutched his chest trying to calm down his heartbeat, another clutched at his stomach as it clenched painfully, and another hand reached for his phone to check the time—

He was confused as his hand didn't make contact with his cell phone. 

But then he remembered he didn't have a third hand. 

Because people usually didn't have four arms. 

“Ryomen Sukuna was a demon with two faces and four arms,” Gojo said as if recounting a story he had told many times before.  “In reality, he was a human who lived about a thousand years ago during the Golden Age of Jujutsu. Any Jujutsu sorcerers had tried to defeat him failed. He became a series of cursed objects; the fingers you ate. No matter how much we tried, we couldn't find any way to destroy them. Well, I guess until you.” 

Was that Sukuna’s memory? 

Why had Yuji seen a memory of Sukuna’s? 

He thought the curse’s cursed energy lay dormant within him, inert and shielded within him. Unattachable, he thought, separate and safe. He thought that Sukuna and he were water and oil, unable to mix with each other. The little Gojo had spoken about it had made him believe that. Perhaps Sukuna was like the wax that coated his fingers, melting slowly in the acid of Yuji’s stomach. Maybe there was some bleedover. 

Yuji didn't know. 

Yuji didn't know anything. 

He flexed his ten fingers, feeling how tight his skin was around them. He was shirnk-wrapped in his skin. Or maybe he had simply outgrown it. It was especially tight around his joints; each tensing of his muscles pushed and pulled on the seams of his flesh. One wrong move would tear it into pieces. He felt like one of his old stuffed animals, stitches torn and broken open by accident, and stuffing gushing out. 

There was something under his skin. 

And he didn't know what. 

But when his stitches came undone, it would reveal itself. 

Whatever it was. 

Maybe it would burst out of his skin, ripping through his seams. 

Hungry.

Was it a remnant of Sukuna? 

His influence? His power? 

Certainly related to him.

But Yuji was missing something. 

He was forgetting something important. 

He pushed back his sweat-soaked bangs and pressed down on his forehead. 

He could do this. 

He could. 

He knew he could. 

He had already eaten two fingers and everything was fine. 

Just an odd dream and an off feeling. 

Surely that was normal after taking in someone’s cursed engery like that. 

After taking in someone else.

He would get used to it. 

It was his duty after all. 

“Yuji, you’re a strong kid, so try to help others,” His grandfather’s words echoed in his head, each word spoken with finality and a seriousness he wasn't used to. “When it's your time to go, make sure you're surrounded by others. Don't end up like me.”  

He sighed, pressing his hands harder against his forehead. “I'm trying, Gramps, I am.” 

He could do it. 

He was the only one who could. 

Even if he was tying his own noose.