Work Text:
15 July 2018
06:45:19 JST
A cemetery in Tokyo City, Tokyo Prefecture
The graveyard is eerily quiet this early in the morning.
Yuji can’t help but feel like an intruder as he walks through the rows, hands buried deep in his pockets. He ignores the low grade cursed spirits lingering among the gravestones – this whole additional layer of the world still feels so strange. He’s known about its existence for as long as Sukuna could talk, but he has never perceived it until his brother nearly died.
Yuji sighs and pulls the hoodie over his head to block out his peripheral vision. He would much rather have stayed blind – in fact, he sometimes catches himself wishing Geto-sensei had never showed up at their house at all. But that’s unfair, and Sukuna is doing much better far away from their family.
Yuji stops in front of the Itadori family grave. It’s completely empty – his feelings are still much too conflicted to even consider buying flowers. And Sukuna – well. (“If you drag me there, I’ll spit on it.”)
Yuji crouches down and wraps his arms around his knees. It’s all just too much right now. He rests his head on his arms, closes his eyes and tries to imagine what his grandfather might have said. They used to be so close… but lately all that comes up whenever Yuji thinks of him is the nuzzle of a gun pointed at his face. His image of his loving, doting grandfather (albeit only towards Yuji) has been completely shattered within the span of a single hour.
And his mother - he swallows hard and opens his eyes again. That is a wound he would prefer not to dig into at the moment. He’s not even sure if he should call this person his mother anymore.
Surprisingly, his father is the only one who seems to have stayed true to himself – indifferent, uncaring, worshipping at his wife’s feet.
Yuji wants to throw up.
07:12:08 JST
He’s almost at the exit when Satoru Gojo appears in his path. He’s just there, when he wasn’t a heartbeat ago. His hair’s askew, and his blindfold is pushed up to his forehead, revealing one of his piercing blue eyes. “I thought I told you not to sneak out alone,” he scolds, but there’s little heat behind it. “There’s people who want to kill you, you know?”
The gravel under his feet crunches loudly as he steps closer to pat Yuji’s head. The gesture still feels strange – Yuji isn’t used to casual touch that isn’t his twin’s. And since he knows Sukuna as well as he knows himself, he’s not even sure it counts.
“Sorry,” Yuji looks down, eyes catching on the fresh blood on Gojo-sensei’s uniform. He swallows. “I still don’t get why they’re after me, though. I can’t do anything special.” Half of his voice is lost in the sound of the gravel as Gojo-sensei ushers him out of the graveyard.
“Not yet,” his teacher grumbles, “And those old geezers are really fucking paranoid.”
14:06:11 JST
Tokyo Jujutsu Academy, Tokyo Prefecture
“I don’t know if I’m supposed to laugh or cry.” Suguru lifts the rotting finger from the steel table with his fingertips, careful not to touch it more than necessary. “I spent two years running after those things.”
Next to him, Satoru cackles. “Don’t whine. You got the original now. In the flesh.”
Suguru gives him a dirty look. “I liked it better when it wasn’t a moody teenager who could kill us all!”
“Stop bickering,” Shoko interrupts them. “You’re supposed to take a look at those, Satoru.” She snatches the finger from Suguru and places it back next to its 18 siblings.
“I’m looking at them. They’re useless now.” Satoru crosses his arms. “Zero cursed energy.”
“Zero.” Shoko echoes.
“Yep. Zero. They might as well be halloween candy.” A mischievous expression flits across his face. He turns to Suguru with a grin. “Hey, these were supposed to be eaten, right?”
“Oh no. Don’t even think about it.” Shoko jabs a finger at Satoru’s face. “That’s a very bad idea.”
He avoids her attack with practiced ease and pouts, “I know. I’m not dumb.”
Shoko throws Suguru a skeptical look and raises her eyebrow, as if to say, ‘is he sure about that?’
Suguru grins back at her, then takes pity on her nerves and grabs Satoru’s arm. “Come on, we’ve got students to teach.”
16 July 2018
00:38:32 JST
Sukuna can’t sleep.
That’s nothing new. He’s a notoriously light and nervous sleeper, the complete opposite of his twin, who has napped on asphalt before. He knows exactly when it started: the night Wasuke stood over him, hand at his throat and a box cutter digging into his cheek.
He instinctively reaches up to the sickle scars underneath his eyes. They have healed horribly, into thick, bumpy lines everyone immediately notices. Ironically, they now resemble the very demon eyes Wasuke was trying to carve out of him.
Sukuna sighs and leans back against the paper wall. Everything here is so traditional and sacred and he feels so incredibly out of place. As much as he’s glad to be out of his mother’s watchful eyes – he can’t relax here either. Not really.
“Want a cigarette?” Sukuna startles as Suguru Geto sits down next to him, silhouette pitch-black against the star-speckled night sky.
“I didn’t hear you coming,” he says, but takes one of the offered cigarettes.
Suguru laughs. “You don’t like it here, do you?”
“Not really, no.” Sukuna watches as Suguru pats down his pockets, cigarette already between his lips.
“Need a light?” He snaps his fingers and lets the useless appendix of his technique spark to life between them.
“I forgot you could do that,” Suguru mumbles and lights his cigarette.
“I forget I can half the time.” Sukuna huffs and lights his own. “It’s useless in combat. It’s not exactly a powerful flame.” He turns his hand and lets the fire dance across his knuckles. “Gojo-sensei wants me to reinforce it with cursed energy, but that’s not working very well.”
The flame extinguishes and darkness settles over them again, except for the glowing points of their cigarettes.
“You don’t have to listen to all his ideas, you know.” Suguru says. “Honestly, I’m amazed you understand anything he explains, like, at all.”
“It’s not that hard,” Sukuna says, and then grins to himself when Suguru snorts. “By the way, aren’t you enabling me right now? Are you allowed to do that?”
“Shh.” Suguru puts a finger to his lips. “No need for anyone to find out.”
Silence settles between them as they smoke one cigarette, and then another.
“I used to do this after I graduated.” Suguru says suddenly, halfway through his second cigarette. “Smoke on the balcony at night, until I felt numb enough to go to bed.” He smiles sadly, eyes fixated on the glowing embers of the cigarette. “I hated jujutsu sorcery for the longest time.”
“Then why’re you still here?”
“Do you really want to know?” Sukuna shivers as Suguru turns to look at him. “I’m fucking addicted. I could never live without using my technique, no matter how gross the cursed spirits taste.”
Sukuna stays silent for a moment, lost in thought, trying to imagine a life without shrine at his fingertips – and finds that he can’t.
“It’s ingrained in my brain,” Suguru continues. He exhales a cloud of smoke and watches it dissipate in the cool air with unfocused eyes. “So perhaps that’s natural.”
Sukuna takes one last drag of his cigarette and pinches out the embers with his finger tips. Heat soars through his skin for a second, but it is his own fire. It would not hurt him even if he wanted it to. He sighs and drops his head onto his arms.
“Want another one?” Suguru nods towards the pack on the floorboards.
“Nah.” Sukuna breathes. Without the smoke in his lungs, the night suddenly feels much colder. He shivers as silence stretches between them again.
Still, he wishes they could stay like this forever. He feels comfortable in Geto-sensei’s presence. Maybe even safe.
“I can’t heal you, Sukuna. But you can, I’m sure of it.” The words are branded into his brain, carved into its lining by the searing hot palm on his cheek while warmth was leaving his body like a flash flood.
08:42:24 JST
Teaching Sukuna is a breeze. Teaching Yuji is not. And teaching them together with the other first years is just asking for trouble. Actually, it’s impossible, because their abilities range from practically-an-expert (Sukuna), over average-first-years (Megumi and Nobara) to absolute-beginner-who’s-never-heard-most-of-the-vocabulary (Yuji).
It doesn’t help that they’re all so quick to fight with each other. Nobara and Sukuna in particular. Not a day passes without them at each others' throats at least once. And while these two are fighting, Yuji is getting on Megumi’s nerves. That’s the most common constellation, but others are possible and just as horrible. Sukuna fighting with Megumi, Nobara fighting with Megumi, Megumi bitching at everyone, Megumi and Nobara ganging up on the twins, Yuji and Sukuna squareling like only siblings can – the list goes on and on and Satoru is sick and tired of it. They’re far from his first class, but he’s starting to think they might be the one to break him. Can he retire yet? Is 28 too young to retire?
He sighs as he enters the hallway leading to his classroom. Yesterday’s migraine is still tugging at the back of his head, and he really doesn’t want to deal with the kids making a ruckus today.
Speaking of ruckuses - why is it so quiet? That’s unusual. He sneaks up to the classroom door, careful not to make another sound, and puts his ear up against it, eager to catch the noises behind it. He’s already late, so what’s a few more minutes?
“Hey, Megumi, give me your phone.” The tone is hushed, but that’s definitely Nobara.
“You shouldn’t take pictures of people sleeping,” Megumi hisses back, “and you’ve got your own.”
“Why not? They’re our classmates. And mine’s dead. Now give it.”
“It’s an invasion of privacy. I’m not gonna let you blackmail them.”
“What’s there to blackmail? They look fucking cute, cuddled up like that. Now– ”
“No.” Megumi remains steadfast.
“Ah, you’re no fun. Where’s Gojo-sensei, by the way? It’s twenty minutes past.”
Satoru grins to himself, tilting his head against the door. The twins are cuddled up? He’s only seen that once, on the train ride from Sendai, and he’s been regretting not taking a picture ever since. It would be perfect for a christmas card or something.
He adjusts his blindfold, massaging his temples one last time for good measure, quietly slides open the door and enters the room on his tippy toes. Nobody notices him.
Nobara is perched on the edge of Megumi’s desk, holding down his left arm while attempting to grasp the phone he’s holding with his right. Both of them keep sneaking glances at the main attraction: Yuji and Sukuna, snoring, both of their heads on Yuji’s desk. Yuji has an arm thrown over Sukuna and is drooling onto his own uniform. It’s fucking adorable.
Satoru leans against the doorframe and lets the scene soak in. That is, until Megumi turns his head, eyes going wide as he spots their teacher. For a single second, he’s distracted, and Nobara finally wrestles the phone out of his hand, fingers flying over the screen like she’s done it a million times already.
“Now, let’s –”
The click of the camera cuts through the silence like a thunderclap.
Yuji stirs almost immediately. He lifts his head, and with his eyes still groggily unfocused, wipes the drool from his chin. “‘S going on?”
“Absolutely nothing.” Nobara smirks triumphantly, the phone disappearing behind her back. Megumi looks ready to combust. Meanwhile, Sukuna is still dead to the world.
“Did you just take a picture?” Yuji asks blearily.
“She did.” Satoru says, casually pushing himself off the doorframe. Two heads whip around in shock. Megumi groans like his soul wants to leave his body. “Be sure to send me that, Nobara.”
A grin splits her face. “Done already, teach!” She gives him a thumbs up.
“What do you even need that for?” Megumi asks, exasperated.
“Ay, you should be happy it won’t be you on this year’s christmas cards.” Satoru ruffles his hair before Megumi can duck out from under it.
Behind him, Yuji gives Sukuna a surprisingly gentle shove. “Get up, you idiot. Class’s starting.”
“Don’ wanna.” Sukuna grumbles before peeling himself off of Yuji’s desk. Then his eyes find Satoru and he’s suddenly much more awake.
Satoru would be glad to see he still has some authority in this classroom if he didn’t already know that that’s not what’s happening here. He watches Sukuna scoot over to his own desk, eyes carefully averted. There’s a reason this one is on his best behavior all the time. He’s the only person Sukuna would definitely lose against. The thought of his student being afraid he might kill him tugs dangerously at his migraine. He swallows the guilt and steels his face back to the facade he’s gotten used to wearing.
“Alright, kiddos.” He claps his hands as soon as everyone’s in their seat. “I’m feeling fucking terrible today, so I’m gonna eat ice cream while I watch the lot of you spar, deal?”
( Collective protest .)
19:02:13 JST
Rain pitter-patters against the car as Ichiji drives them through the wet streets of West Tokyo City. They’re alone - only Nobara, Megumi, Yuji and Sukuna, not a single teacher or professional jujutsu sorcerer in sight.
Ichiji has been mumbling on and on about their job always lacking manpower, but it does nothing to alleviate the sinking feeling in Sukuna’s stomach. Some might call him paranoid, but to him it all sounds like, “We kind of hope you’ll die in there.”
His gaze shifts over to Yuji, who’s busy kneading his hands to stave off the cold. Nobara’s in the front seat, playing games on her phone and Megumi has his head against the car window, blankly staring outside, lost in his thoughts. None of them seem particularly worried.
Sukuna pulls out his own phone. Geto-sensei’s contact is still open from when he contemplated calling him five minutes ago. But what if he’s really just paranoid? He’ll make a fool out of himself, especially because he’s the strongest out of the four of them.
The car stops in front of the juvenile detention center with squeaking brakes.
The rain falls even heavier now, and Sukuna contemplates pulling the hood of his uniform over his head as he gets out. But again, none of the others seem bothered, and the cold rain soothes his racing thoughts just a little bit. His eyes flick up the detention center. It’s unnervingly dark. Not a single light is on. Above it, the slimy shell of the curse womb gleams in the low light provided by the lanterns.
“Most of the detainees have been evacuated after our windows confirmed the curse womb,” Ichiji explains. “Five detainees are still inside. Your mission is to locate and evacuate them, nothing more.” He sighs and fixes his glasses. “We can’t be sure what grade of cursed spirit will be born from the womb, but there’s always the chance that it will be a special grade.”
Nobara crosses her arms, clearly unimpressed. “And if it does turn out to be a special grade?” she asks, voice sharp.
“You run away or you die. Those are your only options.” Ichiji sighs. “Do not engage. Listen to your fear.”
19:04:55 JST
Nozomi Shinkansen, Kanagawa Prefecture
Suguru hates his intuition. He knows he isn’t a particularly stable person – wasn’t, even before Riko. But this is too much now, isn’t it? He’s a responsible adult, he can keep his head in the game until the mission’s done. Satoru is with the other students, he has no reason to worry. But he can’t even reach Satoru… Surely he only forgot to charge his phone. Right?
“This is gonna be no fun if you’re just gonna throw up on us, sensei.” Hakari says. He’s sitting across from Suguru, left arm draped protectively around Kirara, who’s playing on her phone and seemingly oblivious to the rest of the world.
“I’m not gonna throw up.” Suguru protests, perhaps with less dignity than he should have, being their teacher and all.
“Are you sure?” Kirara eyes him over the edge of her phone, forehead scrunched in doubt. “You’re awfully pale.”
It’s useless. They know him way too well. “Satoru’s not answering his phone,” he concedes, “And I have a bad feeling.”
“Probably because he’s still on the flight.” Kirara says and turns her attention back to her phone.
Suguru feels his blood run cold. “What flight?”
Kirara looks up again, now slightly annoyed. “Seriously, how do you not know this? He’s on some business trip in Fukuoka.”
“Fukuoka? While we’re on a mission in Kyoto?”
Hakari is the first to put the pieces together while Suguru’s world splinters. “The twins.”
“Shit,” Kirara breathes.
Suguru buries his face in his hands. They’re alone at school. Alone with principal Yaga, who the higher-ups are also out to kill, and Kusakabe, who voted for their execution.
“We need to turn around.” Hakari says. Suguru feels him awkwardly pat his back in hopes of providing some comfort. “How far until the next stop?”
“Two minutes. But even if we catch the next train to Tokyo – it’ll take at least an hour.”
“We’ll take it.” Suguru whispers. “It’s better than nothing. Buy the tickets, Kirara.”
He runs his hands through his hair as he sits back up. He would love to tear at it – but it won’t do anything to fix his problems right now.
“When did Satoru’s flight leave?”
Hakari just shrugs, but Kirara says, “This evening, I think six o’clock or something.”
“So he’s not even arrived in Fukuoka yet.”
We’re completely separated. Good job, you fuckers.
19:22:30 JST
Eishu Juvenile Detention Center, West Tokyo City, Tokyo Prefecture
It takes less than five minutes for everything to go to hell. They run right into an incomplete domain, then the door is gone. Then there's the bodies and the fighting and suddenly Nobara drops through the floor.
"Kugisaki?" Yuji’s voice echoes weakly in the deformed space, eyes fixed on the spot where their classmate stood just a minute ago. A shiver trickles down Sukuna's spine. Something is very, very wrong here.
"Itadori!" Megumi yells, voice pitching with panic. "Run! "
He pulls Yuji by the hood of his uniform, dragging him towards the door to hallway on the other side of the room. "We'll look for Kugisaki after we get away."
He throws a hasty look over his shoulder. Sukuna follows his gaze. His breath catches when he sees the white demon dog smashed into the wall. When did that happen?
Panic claws at his throat. He should have called Geto-sensei, he should have – he turns to follow Megumi and Yuji and – freezes.
It's not a voluntary reaction. It's a primal fear that seizes his body, locks him in place like prey under the eyes of its predator.
Listen to your fear, Ichiji had said. Sukuna knows now, what he meant. It's nearly impossible not to.
From the corner of his eye, he sees the special grade cursed spirit. It's hovering above the ground between the three of them, still halfway wrapped in its cocoon. Its gaze is glued to them - all of them, at the same time. Sukuna's eyes find Yuji's – only to see his own terror mirrored back at him.
"We need to leave," Megumi whispers soundlessly, eyes trained on the cursed spirit. "We need to find Kugisaki."
Yuji slowly shakes his head. "You go," he mouths. "We stay."
He’s right. They can’t possibly outrun this thing – someone needs to distract it. (Sukuna isn’t sure how he feels about Yuji volunteering himself, though.)
But Megumi looks just about ready to explode. He shakes his head. "I'm not going alone," he hisses.
The spirit tilts its head in interest at the sound.
Yuji looks to Sukuna, shoulders dropping helplessly. Sukuna gives him a stink eye and nods in Megumi's direction. 'You deal with this.' He points to the cursed spirit that's still watching them with avid curiosity. ‘I'll distract that thing.’ Yuji glaces at him, 'No, you won't.'
But Sukuna doesn’t give him a choice. He’s supposed to be the same grade as that thing, right? He should be able to at least hurt it.
Its eyes flit over to him, then back to Megumi, who’s still trying to pull Yuji with him. Its gaze lands on Sukuna, and an excited cackle breaks out of its throat as it lurches.
Sukuna extends his hand. Focus.
“Cleave.”
Shrine catches the cursed spirit at the hip and slices cleanly up to its shoulder. But its laughter doesn’t stop. It turns into an elated howl as the cursed spirit tears the remains of its cocoon off its body.
The slash across its torso has already healed.
19:44:59 JST
Fukuoka Airport, Fukuoka Prefecture
“Will these fuckers ever change?” Satoru runs his hand through his hair rather violently. “I leave for one day – one fucking day!”
The assistant manager unlucky enough to witness his outburst offers a shaky smile. “Yeah.”
“And I can’t reach Suguru because I didn’t charge my fucking phone.” he sighs and rubs his face. “I’m going back immediately. Pray that my students are still alive or I’m gonna kill everyone.”
He glares at the cowering assistant manager. “I mean it. Tell your superiors to suck it!”
He takes a step back and brings his palms together, the image of the academy clear in his mind.
19:45:01 JST
Eishu Juvenile Detention Center, West Tokyo City, Tokyo Prefecture
Bleeding from his neck awakens an odd sense of déjà-vu in Sukuna. It's all too similar to that night a few months ago – only this time, Geto-sensei isn't here. I should have just called, I should have – Sukuna spits out a glob of coagulated blood and shudders at the metallic taste on his tongue. His pulse is fluttering in panic against the fingertips pressed to his neck. The shattered concrete wall is digging into his back like a jagged knife. He desperately tries to recall the feeling of healing himself – but it's all swallowed by the terror pressing down on him.
Yuji is crumpled against the far wall, clutching the stump of his arm. Blood trickles down his temple where the cursed spirit bashed his head into the concrete. Not for the first time Sukuna thinks, We're going to die here.
He wishes he could crawl over to his brother, put his head on his lap and cry his terrified little heart out but he knows he's dead the moment he lets the blood flow. Not that he’s doing much more than drag out his inevitable demise.
The cursed spirit screeches with joy over their misery, body twitching with something akin to dancing. It’s almost hilarious.
I’m going to die, he thinks again, I’m going to die, I’m going to die, I’m going to – the thought loops around his head endlessly, filling it with white-hot panic.
His vision is swimming, and the shrieks of the cursed spirit are dragging an uncanny echo with them. Sukuna stares down into the puddle of blood next to his hand.
I’m. going. to. drown.
His eyes flutter shut with exhaustion.
Don’t you dare. Four blood-red pupils split open in the dark. Heal yourself, you fool.
Who are you?
A huff, followed by a low chuckle. I’m you. That is, this soul’s former iteration.
So it’s all because of you. They’re hunting me because of you.
Nonsense. They’re hunting you because you let them. Unbearable heat brushes past him. Now heal yourself and put this measly cursed spirit in its place.
When Sukuna opens his eyes again, the world is infinitely sharper. He pushes himself up from the ground, movement slow and deliberate and rolls his shoulders, cracks his neck. His cursed energy curls around him with, charging the air.
The cursed spirit’s howling laughter fades as it spots him striding towards it, and a misshapen grin spreads across its ugly face, revealing a row of jagged yellow teeth. It screeches - in joy or fear, Sukuna can’t tell. The sound grates against his bones, but he doesn’t flinch.
He clenches his fist, collects his cursed energy – and then he’s gone. The cursed spirit doesn’t even have time to react before Sukuna’s hand connects with its face, pulling it down.
The floor shatters.
20:01:56 JST
Megumi Fushiguro and Nobara Kugisaki escape from the Eishu Juvenile Detention Center.
20:11:12 JST
Malevolent shrine expands for six minutes and nineteen seconds.
20:12:09 JST
Satoru Gojo arrives at the Eishu Juvenile Detention Center.
20:16:33 JST
Satoru Gojo evacuates Itadori Yuji from building two.
20:39:40 JST
When Suguru arrives at the Eishu Juvenile Detention Center, the curse womb is already gone. Ichiji greets him at the barrier with the thoroughly sour face he always pulls when Satoru threatens to skin him for not reading his mind.
“He’s already here?” he asks.
“Of course he is.” Ichiji pushes his glasses up his nose with much more force than necessary. “I have rarely seen him this upset.”
“Is anyone dead? Injured?”
Ichiji shrugs. “We don’t know for sure yet. Fushiguro and Kugisaki have come out unharmed, and Satoru evacuated Yuji. He’s missing a hand, so Ieiri-san is currently taking care of him.”
“And Sukuna?”
The pregnant silence he gets in return is answer enough. He pushes past Ichiji.
Satoru is obviously seething. Suguru finds him pacing in front of the entrance to building two, arms crossed tightly and his blindfold pulled up to his forehead, revealing a blindingly bright blue eye. Infinity coils around him at a one-meter radius.
Suguru takes his time climbing the stairs. He rarely sees Satoru like this - raw like a livewire, ready to snap. Which is ironic, considering Satoru sees him like this a lot. He pokes at the edges of infinity when he reaches the top. The technique ripples softly under his touch.
“Why haven’t you gone inside yet?” he asks.
Satoru glares at him over his shoulder, jaw tight.
“There’s a chance I’ll make everything worse,” he mutters and runs a hand through his hair. “I don’t think he trusts me very much.”
“He doesn’t,” Suguru agrees easily, “but I can’t exactly fault him for it.”
Satoru huffs through his nose, annoyed. “If you’re going to insult my teaching again, just keep it to yourself.” He pulls his blindfold back down over his eye and infinity shrinks down to its usual size as his shoulders sag. “I almost lost my whole class today, and I could still lose one student.”
“Not what I meant.” Suguru wraps an arm around Satoru’s shoulders. As always, infinity parts for him. “You know that.”
“I know.” Satoru admits, though it sounds a little petulant. He scrunches his nose in frustration. “But he trusts you.”
“Yeah, about that.” Suguru awkwardly scratches the back of his neck. “I have no idea how I did that and it scares the fuck out of me.”
Satoru’s lips twitch with the hint of a laugh. “Still, if anyone can get to him. You go.”
Suguru pauses. “You’re not coming?”
“I’ll wait out here. It’s better if you go alone, I think.” His voice sounds uncharacteristically subdued.
20:46:28 JST
Suguru Geto enters building two.
The inside of the building feels like a different dimension. The air is filled with steam, and the awful humidity has Suguru’s clothes sticking to his back within mere seconds. The flashing emergency lights color everything blood red in regular intervals. It’s like glimpsing into hell.
But no sign of the devil, Suguru thinks. He doesn’t fool himself – Sukuna expanded a fully formed, stable, barrierless domain in here without ever attempting to do so before. Even worse, there’s nobody alive who could even teach him a barrierless domain. And Suguru is sure the boy had a teacher.
Something crackles in the air as Suguru steps over a piece of debris.
“Sukuna?” he calls out, but it stays quiet. Mumbling a string of curses to himself, Suguru summons the rainbow dragon. Just to be safe.
In the middle of the room, the floor has caved in. The steam billows from it in lush clouds.
Suguru crouches down and dips his hand into the invisible abyss. He knows from the building plans that there is a water reservoir beneath the center, though that seems to have been completely evaporated, leaving only this stifling heat behind. Would Sukuna still be down there?
Suguru pulls off his jacket as the heat becomes unbearable. His hair is already hanging in strands, sticking to his face, and rainbow dragon, languishly coiling around him, has started to resemble a wet dog.
He’s about to stand when his phone buzzes in his pocket. He pulls it out and almost laughs with relief when he sees Sukuna’s caller ID.
He picks up without hesitation. “Sukuna?”
“Geto-sensei?” Sukuna’s voice sounds hollow over the phone.
“I’m here to help, Kuna.” Suguru hastily scans the room as he speaks. “Tell me where you are.”
“They won’t kill me for this, right?” Sukuna’s voice wavers, and Suguru swallows hard.
Chances are, the higher-ups would love to. But Sukuna doesn’t give him a chance to reply.
“He said they’re only after me because I let them.”
Suguru frowns. He?
With a wave of his hand, he summons a wind spirit. Immediately, a cool breeze brushes over his skin. He watches it toil away through the steam and grips the slippery phone tighter. “Who said that?”
“He.” Sukuna repeats. “The four-eyed demon.” His voice drops to a near-whisper. “I think I died.”
Suguru freezes. “Did he do anything?”
“No. We only talked. But – “ His voice breaks off.
Suguru rakes a hand through his damp hair and tilts his head back in despair. It is then that he sees it. The wind spirit has cleared enough of the steam that he can see the opposite wall. And – his breath catches.
It is drenched in blood. Deep crimson streaks run down its surface, curling around bits of flesh and entrails, entwining with large scorch marks and slashes upon slashes cutting through the reinforced concrete like butter.
Below the carnage, near the base of the wall, Suguru sees him. Sukuna, curled in on himself, with his arms wrapped tightly around his knees, face hidden.
The oppressive heat seems to fall away as Suguru rounds the hole in the floor with slow, deliberate steps. It doesn’t matter that he knows he’s walking towards his student – his racing heart perceives this as something else. It takes an eternity – and yet he is there in a second. He crouches down in front of his student.
“Hey,” he says. When Sukuna looks up, he sees it for a second – the once-true shape of his soul, Ryomen Sukuna, the king of curses. It glares at him from behind the boy’s eyes as if to say, I was only protecting myself, before Sukuna’s face crumples and Suguru drops down to his knees.
The teen is covered in spirit entrails, but he doesn’t care. He pulls him close to his chest and buries his face in his hair, breathing in the stench of warm blood that tells him he’s alive. “They can try all they want,” he murmurs, “I won’t let anyone hurt you, I promise.” Sukuna melts into the embrace, his arms wrapping around Suguru’s waist so tightly it’s almost painful.
“I wanted to call you,” he whispers into Suguru’s shirt. “I wanted to so badly but I didn’t and now –” A sob breaks out of his throat. “I’m so sorry, I’m so, so sorry…”
“Shh.” Suguru gently smooths Sukuna’s hair back from his face. “It’s alright. Everybody’s fine.”
He doesn’t look up at the carnage left on the wall again. Instead, he hugs the boy tighter, knowing that protecting him from what’s to come will be anything but easy.
They only hunt you because you let them.
17 July 2018
00:00:02 JST
Tokyo Jujutsu Academy, Tokyo Prefecture
“We’re in deep shit.” Satoru twirls the unlit cigarette between his fingers with practiced ease. “They want nearly half of our students either dead or expelled, and I can’t send them all to South Africa. Miguel would kill me.”
Suguru puffs out a cloud of smoke. “He wants to do that anyway.”
He looks back over his shoulder to where the first years are curled up together on a large futon. Nobara and Yuji are watching something on Megumi’s phone, arguing in hushed tones about cinematics and plotlines, while Megumi and Sukuna have nodded off already. All of them are rattled from today’s events, Suguru and Satoru included.
“He still doesn’t trust me.” Satoru laments suddenly.
Suguru narrows his eyes at him. “It’s been like, three hours. Give him some fucking time, man.”
“But I’m impatient.” Satoru groans as he flops onto his back, limbs splayed out like a starfish. His eyes gleam faintly in the night.
“I know.” Suguru sighs. He stubs out his cigarette in a small ashtray they’d pilfered from an empty classroom. “But can we please focus on the important things here?”
“Ugh.” Satoru grimaces. “I hate important stuff. So boring.”
Suguru rolls his eyes. “I saw him, you know? Ryomen Sukuna.”
Satoru sits abruptly, any trace of mischief cleanly wiped from his face. “He’s dead. ”
“I know.” Suguru pokes around the cold ashes with the extinguished cigarette. “But he was looking at me, from behind Sukuna’s eyes. Just for a moment.”
I was only protecting myself. I don’t want to suffer like that again.