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Kenjaku felt spindly, having not yet grown accustomed to their newest vessel: Geto Suguru. He was much taller than their previous vessel, standing at an impressive 190 centimetres. Still, Kenjaku walked on, unperturbed until they caught a glimpse of unmistakable pink hair.
Their footsteps quickened, nearly tripping over their own vessel’s legs. It was embarrassing, really, to be so clumsy. But their previous vessel was only 162 centimetres, so switching felt like hitting puberty and waking up a head taller.
At least, that’s what Kenjaku assumed puberty felt like. It had been a long, long time since they were pubescent.
Despite Geto’s long legs, Kenjaku failed to avoid the pink-haired boy who was now inching closer to him, curious. His face lit up when he noticed the familiar scars, but he quelled his excitement to ask:
"Mother?"
Kenjaku flinched at the name — always did when Yuuji decided to refer to them as that — despite it technically being true. Kenjaku was Yuuji’s mother, not Kaori. Biologically, she was, but otherwise… no. Kaori died shortly before Kenjaku found her and took her as their vessel, meaning she didn’t even know Yuuji existed.
But that was fine.
Because he was Kenjaku’s son.
Or whatever.
"Ah, however could you tell?" Kenjaku asked sheepishly, despite knowing the answer.
The way Yuuji identified Kenjaku as his mother was quite simple, really.
The forehead stitches.
It seemed Yuuji had almost grown fond of them, over the years. A telltale sign that he was communicating with his mother.
At least once a year, Kenjaku would visit Yuuji. Albeit very briefly, but they did it anyway. To ensure his growth and make sure he was strong enough to handle Sukuna, of course. Nothing more, nothing less.
A simple break-in to the small apartment the Itadoris resided in was enough to satiate Kenjaku’s worries curiosity. Each time, however, they found a new vessel, hoping Yuuji would not recognise any of them.
Kenjaku would creep in while Yuuji was sleeping, give him a quick inspection, then leave. If they sometimes left meaningless gifts or did little chores around the house to help alleviate some of the workload off of poor Yuuji’s back — well that wasn’t for anyone other than themself to know.
One night, however, Kenjaku’s scuffling awoke an 11-year-old Yuuji. He rubbed his eyes, sitting up in bed, but kept his composure surprisingly well.
"Hey, hey, kid, shh, go back to sleep." Kenjaku attempted to soothe, but comfort and affection really wasn’t their strong suit.
"Who are you and what’re you doing?" Yuuji mumbled, voice groggy with sleep.
"I’m… a fairy," Kenjaku hesitated to say, foregoing the need to answer the second question.
"What?" Yuuji began furiously rubbing his eyes, clearly believing he was delusional. He scampered to turn his night light on — that was actually a gift from Kenjaku to Yuuji on his 5th birthday — and began to scrutinise the strange man in his room.
Yuuji was by no means an impolite child, but the little brat could be dense at times. He stared unabashedly at the forehead stitches on Kenjaku’s current vessel: an oily middle-aged man with a wiry goatee.
"Wait a minute, you’re the one who… My mother has those scars," Yuuji mumbled, suspicion creeping in his tone.
Kenjaku’s breath hitched as if they had been caught red-handed. How was Yuuji aware of the stitches dotting his mother’s forehead? Had Wasuke shown him pictures? It was more likely that Yuuji had flipped through a photo album on his own; Wasuke was stubborn to a fault and absolutely despised Kenjaku. Or Kaori. Or whoever Wasuke chose to believe they were.
"Do you do this a lot?" Yuuji asked, bravely communicating with this supposed stranger who had snuck into his bedroom at midnight.
"Hm?" Kenjaku looked up, confusion evident in their tone.
"Sneak into my room, I mean."
Well. Kenjaku hadn’t been expecting that.
"You… you were aware?"
"It wakes me up sometimes," Yuuji shrugged nonchalantly.
"Oh." Kenjaku felt dumb, at a loss for words.
"Someone breaks into my room every now and then, it wakes me up, I pretend to be asleep," Yuuji explained. "But they always have the same scars."
Yuuji paused, taking a moment to ponder.
"They’re the same person, aren’t they? They’re you." His tone wasn’t accusatory, but it felt like a punch to the gut anyway.
Kenjaku really thought they were being sneaky. But alas, even their own son had outsmarted them. A surge of… pride(?) washed over them. They knew their son was destined for greatness the moment they first saw his cute pink hair.
"Clever boy," Kenjaku praised. "How did you figure it out?"
"It wasn’t that hard, really. Hey, are you really a fairy? Is that why you shapeshift?" Yuuji’s eyes lit up with a new fervor; curious and astonished all at once.
Kenjaku couldn’t suppress a chuckle. "Well, not quite. I’m an old sorcerer; though I suppose the shapeshifting part is kind of true."
"Cool. So you’re my mother, then?"
Kenjaku hesitated to say yes. "Well, technically —"
"Oh, mom, you’ve been visiting me all these years? I knew you cared about me!" Without a warning, Yuuji surged forward to hug them.
Kenjaku was knocked back by the force of the sudden embrace — Yuuji really was shaping up to be superhuman with his inhuman strength — and awkwardly placed their hands on Yuuji’s back.
"I don’t know if I’d say that…" Kenjaku said slowly, peeling Yuuji off of them.
"Of course you care; you keep showing up! That’s way better than assuming you were dead." Yuuji’s smile was brighter than the damn nightlight, Kenjaku swore.
It was kind of cute, though, and Kenjaku couldn’t resist ruffling his hair.
So maybe they had grown a little attached to the boy over the years. But that was natural, of course, the bond between a mother and her children unbreakable. Kenjaku wondered if they felt differently about Choso, Eso and Kechizu because they sired them.
It was certainly a different feeling, to have your child in your own womb rather than your partner’s. Kenjaku made a mental note to write that in their super-evil-mad-scientist-journal later.
Ever since that night, Yuuji would force himself to stay awake so he could spend a few precious moments with his mother. Each interaction only seemed to weight Kenjaku’s heart down more.
Eventually, Yuuji became so good at distinguishing the scars — perhaps Yuuji recognised their Cursed Energy? Well, Kenjaku certainly hoped that was also true. — that he could easily make Kenjaku out in crowded public spaces.
Like right now.
Yuuji had never met anyone else with those kinds of stitches before — and had this strange sort of instinct that those scar-people were just his shapeshifting mother — but he always made sure to confirm that it really was Kenjaku before getting all excited.
"I knew it was you!" Yuuji giggled, wearing that megawatt smile he could never seem to shake.
Before they could protest, Yuuji had launched himself at Kenjaku, hugging his mother tightly.
"What are you doing out here, Yuuji? Don’t you have school?"
"Oh, um, I took the day off." Yuuji scratched the back of his neck, one arm still wrapped around Kenjaku. He suddenly looked uncomfortable.
"If you’re sick, you should be at home," Kenjaku chided, shaking their head. Their attempts to peel Yuuji off were futile.
"Don’t get me wrong: If I were sick, I would totally be home right now, mom!"
Kenjaku raised a brow.
"A-and I’m not just skipping school, either!"
Yuuji’s motions were eccentric, desperate to get his point across.
Eventually, his expression sobered, and he dropped his forehead to Kenjaku’s shoulder. Had he always been that clingy? Kenjaku decided to verbalise this question.
"Grandpa’s sick," Yuuji admitted quietly.
Ah, it seemed the old grump’s age had finally caught up to him. Kenjaku resisted the urge to smirk and cackle at the thought of Wasuke’s demise — in front of Yuuji, at least.
"Guess I’ve just been feeling lonely. Sorry." Yuuji apologised with a sheepish expression and a reddened face before backing off. "I know you freak out when I do that," he chuckled awkwardly.
"It’s fine." More than fine, a voice in the back of his head nagged. It sounded an awful lot like Kaori. If my son needs my support, then I shall give it to him, as all good mothers do.
Kenjaku squashed down those thoughts. They were not a mother , let alone a good one.
"And your grandfather; you were visiting him?" Kenjaku decided to switch the topic before they became too uneasy.
Yuuji nodded, biting his lip with that uncomfortable look on his face again. Kenjaku decided that kind of expression didn’t belong on Yuuji’s face.
"How about we talk somewhere private?"
The relief in Yuuji’s eyes was immediate.
Smiling gently — which was easy with this vessel; Geto had a lovely smile — Kenjaku outstretched their hand for Yuuji to take.
He was more than happy oblige, lacing his fingers with the much larger ones of Geto. It never failed to amuse Kenjaku how blatantly unperturbed Yuuji was with the constant change in vessels. It never once seemed to bother him, although Kenjaku supposed that the bond between a mother and a son went deeper than just disposable bodies—
No. There was no reason to think of this as some sort of bond. Of course Yuuji was unperturbed; he would be Sukuna’s host eventually. He was quite literally designed to handle monsters and curses. Though, interestingly, as Kenjaku observed, Yuuji couldn’t actually see curses. Yet, at least.
Kenjaku led them to a nearby park and sat at a bench, gesturing for Yuuji to join them. He was quick to scoot in alongside his mother, head resting upon Kenjaku’s shoulder. Kenjaku couldn’t tell if the contact made them feel uncomfortable or at peace. Whatever it was, the strange feeling in their chest was undeniable.
"Sorry," Yuuji said, lifting his head off of Kenjaku’s shoulder.
Kenjaku pulled him back down again, the action surprising even them.
Yuuji peered up at them with his wide puppy-eyes. "Are you sure?"
Kenjaku nodded, reaching up to stroke his hair. "Tell me what happened."
Yuuji melted against his mother’s side, tension releasing from his shoulders. Kenjaku briefly wondered if this is what contentment felt like.
"Well," Yuuji began slowly, "his health has been slowly declining over the last year or so, but recently, it’s gotten even worse."
Kenjaku nodded, carefully considering Yuuji’s words despite not at all caring for the old grump that was Wasuke. If listening made Yuuji feel better, then they would listen.
When did you become such a sap? Uraume’s voice chided in their mind. Kenjaku rolled their eyes at the hallucination of their friend/ally/thing. It was hard to put a label on their relationship. They were united in the need for Sukuna, and got along — or argued — from there.
"He was admitted to a hospital two months ago, after having a seizure in his sleep. I-I was so worried — I thought he might die right then and there—" Yuuji’s shoulders were tensing up again, voice cracking and breath raggedy.
Kenjaku moved their hand from his hair to his shoulder, squeezing, grounding. They remained silent as a few sobs wracked through Yuuji.
"I-I stayed home from school to visit the doctors. They said they needed to-to upgrade his treatment if-if I want him to get better…"
"And-and then I saw you today, and I was so excited. F-for the first time in a while, I had hope. I don’t know why, but you give me hope, mom."
Again with that title. Oh, how it crushed Kenjaku’s rancid little heart.
"Are you paying for his treatment yourself, Yuuji?"
A shaky inhale and slow nod were all Kenjaku needed to know. Add some money to Yuuji’s bank account, they filed away in their mind.
Why am I doing this? Kenjaku pondered. I’m supposed to be evil.
"What was that?" Yuuji turned to them with confusion.
"Ah, nothing." Kenjaku felt a flourish of embarrassment upon realising they had verbalised their thoughts.
Though, what was the point in hiding what they had said? Perhaps, if they could warn Yuuji of his impending doom, they’d feel less guilty when his image of them inevitably changed forever.
"Yuuji."
The boy sat up straight, looking past the eyes of Geto and into his mother’s own soul.
"Yes?"
Kenjaku took his hands in their own borrowed ones, stoic expression schooled on their face.
"I need you to listen to me when I tell you this is serious."
Yuuji nodded, his own expression sobering to match Kenjaku’s.
"Soon, very soon, you will meet that… estranged uncle that I have mentioned to you."
Yuuji nodded, seemingly taking Kenjaku’s words seriously for once. They remember the first time they mentioned Sukuna to Yuuji, who then proceeded to ask who this 'Sukuna' figure was, and Kenjaku had sweetly explained that Sukuna was his 'estranged uncle'. Yuuji seemed really excited to meet him, and Kenjaku had solemnly admitted that they didn’t think Yuuji and Sukuna would get along very well.
"Sukuna, right?"
"Yes, him. And he will do terrible things to you, Yuuji. Much like I will."
Yuuji groaned. "Why are you such a pessimist, mom? You always say bad things will happen, no matter what."
"Because they will," Kenjaku huffed, trying not to lose their patience with the boy. "I’m trying to warn you, is all."
"But is Sukuna really that bad?"
Kenjaku resisted the urge to scream.
This boy. This stupid, wonderful, horribly optimistic boy. He, of all people, was destined to be Sukuna’s vessel. They could not be more dissimilar. Where Yuuji’s heart was pure gold, Sukuna’s was black and charred and horrible — if he even had a heart left. It made Kenjaku pity their son all the more.
" Yes, Yuuji, I cannot stress this enough, he really is 'that bad'."
Yuuji’s lip was set in a deep frown; his cute little thinking face. Kenjaku’s heart ached in ways not even their wisdom could explain. They mourned the loss of their sweet, optimistic son already. Oh, the monster Sukuna would force him to be.
"What about you, mom?" Yuuji’s voice was quiet, small, as if he didn’t want to know the answer.
Kenjaku provided him with one anyway; cold, stern, harsh, and grounding in a way that Yuuji would come to accept sooner or later.
"I am the most evil being in the universe."
Yuuji snorted. "You? What?" Kenjaku smacked him before he could enter a proper laughing fit, sobering him up. "Ow, why did you—"
"Shut up and listen to me."
Yuuji’s mouth clicked shut. No room to argue when your mother scolds you, Kenjaku assumed was Yuuji’s logic.
Too bad Kenjaku wasn’t his mother.
"Itadori Yuuji. Heed my words now and don’t say I didn’t warn you. You will meet Sukuna, and he will change the course of your life; for better or for worse. Most likely for worse, though," they mumbled.
"I am not your mother. I simply used your mother’s body to create you. The real Kaori was long dead before you were born. This body I’m in right now? Just another vessel. The one I need to follow through with my plan," they continued.
"What plan..?" Yuuji finally had the sense to look mortified, and Kenjaku was at least glad he was gaining situational awareness.
"The plan for you, my boy, to become a vessel."
"What?" Yuuji whispered, a bead of ice-cold sweat rolling down his forehead.
"That is why you exist, Yuuji. That is why you were born. You are no more than a pawn in my game." No, no that can’t be right. This boy is my son — I was holding him in my arms just a moment ago…
The more Kenjaku babbled, the louder the voices in his head got. Kaori would not stop screaming. Perhaps she had always known of Yuuji’s existence. The screams persisted: "My baby! My baby!" Over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and—
"Mom? Mom?!"
Kenjaku couldn’t breathe. Why were they doing this? To the only son they ever loved?
…They loved Yuuji?
No, that’s not right either.
"Yes!" Kaori screamed. "I love my son. Please, stop, you’re hurting him..!"
Kenjaku gripped their pants — or was that Geto? Strange, this had never happened before. The remnants of souls still trapped in his mind had never been so loud. Had never tried to object against Kenjaku.
It left Kenjaku wondering: was it Kaori? Screaming, pleading to protect her son? Or was it them ?
The lines between themself and their vessels had never been so unclear and their ears were ringing, why were their ears ringing and they couldn’t see and everything was blurry and—
" Mom !"
Yuuji’s voice must have snapped a cord within them, because soon, they were keeling over the back of the bench, retching out whatever remained of their lunch.
They stood, huffing, panting and sweating, and turned to gaze at Yuuji. There was still horror present in his eyes, though it was more out of concern for Kenjaku for anything.
And maybe that was the most worrying part. Kenjaku never should have indulged Yuuji, never should have spent any more time with him than necessary.
Because they were attached , dammit. Just like how the boy was attached to them. The thought of hurting their son — the one son they truly loved — broke their heart a million ways over, made them want to be skinned alive. It was such a nasty, horrible thought that they had thrown up.
Uraume was right. They really had grown too sentimental. It was a good thing they killed Jin when they did. Things could have been worse, they reminded themself.
But things had already gotten bad enough.
Straightening up, Kenjaku stood and brushed themself off. They had a plan to enact, after all, and they had wasted enough time.
Itadori Yuuji is not my son.
Itadori Yuuji is Ryomen Sukuna’s vessel.
Nothing more, nothing less. Just a boy destined for tragedy.
They smiled to themself, feeling better already.
They slowly leaned down, cupping Yuuji’s neck.
"Mom..? What are you?—"
"I may have loved you once, but I cannot bring myself to love you anymore. Sleep, my son, and forget about me." With a pinch to his neck, twisting the muscle just so, Yuuji collapsed.
He awoke on the park bench hours later, groggy and disoriented.
The money in his bank account went unchanged.