Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It's dark. Nighttime. The wind whips at his face, the icy caress doing little to soothe the sudden confusion gripping at him. Confusion that gives way to an intense panic.

How did he get here? He was literally in bed a moment ago. If he closed his eyes, he could almost feel the warmth of his iPad screen underneath his fingertips, the volume turned down to the lowest possible setting, the almost overwhelming stuffiness of hiding his laughter under his thick blanket to avoid being heard. He was supposed to be asleep!

Oh, he’s in so much trouble now! He doesn’t think he turned the iPad off. Stupid, stupid stupid what if Mom walks in and sees? She hates those skibidi toilet videos- doesn’t understand how absolutely peak they are - but that isn’t the problem now. Why’s he outside?

Maybe he sleepwalked outside? But he doesn’t remember falling asleep. He’s looking around, his eyes surveying the damage. The place he's in right now is unfamiliar, and he knows he’s never been here. Turning around, he notices his body feels…weird. Off. Bigger, somehow. He clenches his fists, bringing his hands up and towards his face, noting the tattoos ringing his wrists and the long purple nails adorning one of his hands.

Hah? Nails?

He finally notices someone attempting to stifle the sounds of their breathing. His eyes dart around and land on a black-haired boy, who’s watching him warily, arms out and hands fisted. Why does he look so scared? Oh, the kid is bleeding. On the head. A lot. Maybe that’s why? He’d be scared too. It looks too much for a bandaid to fix.

“What happened to you??” he blurts out. The kid flinches while narrowing his eyes, his expression baffled, but doesn’t respond. Bro’s staring at him like he’s asked a stupid question. Jeez, teenagers. His sister’s like this too, not bothering to explain things to him because he’s “too little and dumb to understand”. He’s eight! That’s literally almost ten!! Stupid.

Maybe it’s a good thing the emo-looking teenager didn’t respond. Stranger danger, and all that. Mom would be mad, and that would mean no iPad for a long time.

Hey…but the emo-looking teenager looks familiar…He squints at him, trying to place the boy’s face.

“Hey, what are you doing?” He hears someone ask, although he can’t pinpoint where the voice is coming from, and looking around doesn’t reveal the speaker.

Where did that voice come from? It sounds familiar, just like the emo. The familiarity scratches at his brain, but amid all the confusion (he still doesn’t know why he’s outside in the middle of the night) he can’t exactly focus on that.

“Give it back!” Huh? Nothing makes sense here! Although maybe the weird disembodied voice isn’t lying? He didn’t have weird nails. And eww, purple! That’s a girl’s color! 

His hand twitches, arm twisting upwards so it can grab at his face. He squeaks.

“Nuh uh! Finders, keepers!” He has no idea if that works for something like this, but he won’t admit it. Besides…It’s not his body, but if he doesn’t have a body, where will he go? You’d die without a body, right? Like, where else would you go? Disappear? Does disappearing mean you die? He doesn’t want to die.

He’s suddenly even more scared. 

The voice in his head is still talking, and the black haired guy still has his hands in front of him, and something clicks, fear momentarily forgotten. The pose is familiar because he’s seen it somewhere before!

“MAHORAGA!!! YOU'RE SUMMONING MAHORAGA!!” THE BOY IS MEGUMI???? FROM JJK?!? Phew. He's dreaming. But it's such a cool and realistic dream! That means he won’t get in trouble, because it isn’t real.

The boy—Megumi— flinches once more, an uncertain expression flitting across his face, something akin to fear. BUT MAHORAGA! The fight between Mahoraga and Sukuna was insane! He saw the shorts and all the edits. Too bad Sukuna isn't here because that'd actually be so goated…wait. 

The voice continues yapping, but his admittedly short attention span leaves it ignored. If THAT’S Megumi, then wh-?

Before his flailing mind connects the dots, something tugs at him inwardly, a sensation that pulses outwards whilst simultaneously pulling at him and he feels himself… falling? He’d hold his hands out to brace himself for the fall that’s sure to come, except he can’t feel his arms anymore.

SPLASH!

It didn’t hurt, but he spends a while coughing out the water that inadvertently made its way into his lungs.

…

…

Water? 

It’s red. Clear, but red. Ew. He doesn’t think it’s water. 

Actually, the whole place is red. It’s like a cave, except the ceiling is weird and there’s like…a lot of bones. And a creepy throne of them. And the ground is pitch black and he can smell something burnt in the air. He looks down at the water he’s landed in, and the reflection reveals pink hair, a small face with tattoos all over it and two large red eyes blinking incredulously back at him. IT’S SUKUNA? HE’S SUKUNA?

“ERM…WHAT THE SIGMA??!?”

THIS IS SO FREAKING COOL!! But he still looks like a kid, and Sukuna’s a grown up, but his mom always says beggars can’t be choosers and frankly this is cool enough as it is. He stands up and notices the white jumper with the blue hood that he’s wearing. He’s pretty sure he has never worn it before, never even seen it before, but he remembers the dress Sukuna usually wears and is glad. He checks his feet and no, no flip flops, just sneakers. 

‘It’s not a dress,’ his sister would retort whenever he brought it up, “it’s a kimono!”

He looks around, but he’s alone in the big red bony place, and honestly it’s so emo and edgy, even more than Megumi. He scrambles to his feet and kicks at a bone, watching the patterns the movement makes in the water. He’s inside Sukuna’s domain expansion but just not expanded! So sigma. Peak cinema. He’d clap, except he’s a bit distracted by the tattoos on his wrist revealed by his sleeves riding up.

And apart from the sounds of the water as he wades through it, it’s very quiet. He wants to know what’s going o-

“Can you switch with Sukuna?” Huh? Who’s talking? HEY, he’s Sukuna now, so the person is asking for him? He continues listening, the words flowing into the cavernous domain from an unknown source. 

“Gojo-sensei, I don’t think that’s a goo-“

“Nah, it’ll be fine. Think you can do it?”

GOJO??? IT’S GOJO!

HELL YEAH LET HIM COOK! Now he’s Sukuna, he really really REALLY wants to try fighting Gojo. He can practically hear the edit music in the background.

‘OH JUST A HOLY FOOL, OH BABY IT’S SO CRUEL, BUT I’M STILL IN LOVE WITH JUDAS BABY-‘ he cuts himself off, because he wants to hear the rest of the conversation, although he’s humming under his breath.

“I don’t think-“

Bruh why isn’t he being let out now?? Yuji —that’s who he’s in, because he’s Sukuna— is taking so longgggg. 

What the actual sigma???

“Uh, he seems agitated.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I’m hearing a lot of excitement(?). He seems pretty eager to fight you. Also he’s said “sigma” like, twice in the last few minutes. And…he’s humming a song.”

“Didn’t take the King of Curses for a stats nerd. Or a music enjoyer. Huh.”

“…I think he’s using it as an expletive.” Oh yeah, he is, because Yuji’s taking a long long time! 

“Huh. Well, it’ll only be 10 seconds, anyhow. Don’t worry, I can handle him! He’s got nothing on me.” 

Coming from someone who’s literally DIED to real-Sukuna and Mahoraga tag-team, Sukuna doesn’t think he can talk. He’d be better off working at McDonald’s and dishing up fries for customers at this point. 

“Eh?? He says you’ve died to him!? How does that even work?” Yuji sounds incredulous, his voice tapering at the end.

“Ah, he’s got high hopes. That’s great!” Sukuna can hear a snort from the man, and fumes.

“Is he supposed to sound like a k-“

“Your 10 seconds start now!”

Sukuna’s vision fades out, and suddenly he’s back on that deserted rooftop he found himself on originally with Megumi, except now Gojo’s there too. His eyes snap to Gojo’s face, the man currently yapping about some dessert he brought with him. 

“GOJO! LOCK IN, LIL BRO” Why the hell is he yapping now of all times. Gojo’s attention should be on him. 

Gojo’s head snaps towards Sukuna, who’s got his hands in a mudra with the goofiest smile on his face. He’s practiced the hand sign so many times while playing with his friends, it’s practically muscle memory.

“DOMAIN EXPANSION: MALEVOLENT SHRI-“

But it doesn’t come, because Gojo’s knocked his hands out of the handsign and he’s now sitting on Sukuna. How dare he??

He’s face to face with Megumi. Gojo tuts, adjusting his position on Sukuna’s back.

“Didn’t expect you to be so reckless, Sukuna~ Although I suppose a thousand years can make anyone rusty.” He’s making fun of him, Sukuna just knows it, and it’s annoying him.

“Get off me! You already proved you got your degree in Yap-ology, and probably from McDonald’s. Ugh.”

Gojo tilts his head, mixed parts amused and confused. Megumi just blinks. 

“Awww, is the King of Curses salty that he lost so fast? But it was fair and square, don’t you think?”

“Rematch. Now.” That was not fair. What the hell.

“How about ~no~” 

“Man, you guys are so boring~” He’s disappointed. Megumi didn’t summon Mahoraga, Gojo didn’t let him use his domain expansion and “8…9…10!” 

He’s fading away, like before, his limbs growing leaden as his vision fades to the already familiar red of his domain. Terrible dream, 0/10. 

And he’s locked up again. Dang it. Sukuna scowls at the ground, kicking at the water. 

Now what?

Chapter Text

Despite the heaviness of his eyelids and the fuzzy feeling muffling his senses, Yuji fades back into consciousness. He forces his eyes open and instantly regrets the decision, as fireworks go off in his head, eyes narrow and he grimaces in pain. The room’s lighting, objectively warm and mild, burns into his unadjusted eyes, and the first thing he thinks is ‘Where am I?’ The events of the last few hours are a blur to him, just out of reach, like a dream he’s on the cusp of remembering.

He lifts his head slowly, wincing at the crick in his neck, and comes to the realisation that the last few hours were anything but a dream. That white haired man from —was it last night?— from before was sitting on a chair in front of him, legs wrapped around the back of the chair, grinning lazily. The situation was absurd enough that for a moment, Yuji forgot he should be concerned about the potential (‘Who am I kidding? This is literally kidnapping.’) kidnapping. Seeing that Yuji was finally awake, the man’s grin widened as he leaned forward over the back of the chair. “Which one,” he mused, head tilted to the side as though he was inspecting Yuji, “are you right now?” What the hell? What was he talking about…?

“What?” Yuji muttered in confusion. Oh. The finger he ate had a demon in it that was now apparently possessing him. He knew he could be impulsive, but this has got to make the top 3 worst decisions he’s ever made. The man continued to watch him, although the blindfold did an unfortunately great job at obscuring where exactly he was looking. How the man could see through the blindfold, Yuji had no idea, but it’d be foolish to assume he couldn’t.

Yuji thought it wouldn’t be too far fetched to assume the man could see right through him.

Goddamn. At least he’d managed to save Fushiguro from th- wait. Fushiguro!

“Where’s Fushiguro? Who are you?” Yuji made to move, but a sharp chafing and tugging at his wrists revealed they were tied, and his feet were similarly bound. He looked around the room more attentively. There were strange inked papers attached to the ceiling, the walls, the floor, old-fashioned candles dripping with wax lighting the room, the only source of light. It all looked rather cult-like. What did he get himself into? Was Fushiguro okay? The man snorted, the sound shaking Yuji from his train of thought.

“I’m Gojo Satoru, in charge of the first-years at Jujutsu Tech.” Jujutsu… that was something Fushiguro had mentioned. Was he a student at this Jujutsu Tech place? “But~” Gojo drawled, leaning back lazily, “I doubt you’re in a position to worry about others right now. You see,” he paused dramatically, “you’ve been sentenced to death! A secret execution! How exciting.” He almost seemed giddy relaying the news, although Yuji couldn’t really get a read on the man.

Wait.

“WHAT?” Swallowing that finger has now slotted itself into the worst decision he’s ever made. He heard someone laugh, a distinctly childish giggle, and his head swivelled around to locate the source. ‘Gojo’s not gonna kill you. You can’t die, anyways, you’re the MC, and good guys can’t kill other good guys.’ The voice was matter-of-fact, somewhat familiar, and with another grimace Yuji realised it was the literal demon– or curse, if what Fushiguro was saying could be taken as truth –who was now in his body. Great. For a scary and apparently dangerous curse, this “Ryoumen Sukuna” sounded pretty darn young. Nasally voice and the whole shebang. Maybe he was one of those creepy demons who posed as little children to lure in victims. Like in horror movies. Why else would he be doing absolutely nothing at the moment?

He definitely seemed a little crazy. What even is an “em see”? And how would Sukuna know whether the guy who kidnapped him was “good” or not?

‘Hey! I’m not the one who got us tied up! Lost so much aura because of that ong.’ He sounded almost petulant. Yuji frowned. What the hell was he saying?

‘Skill issue smh.’

‘Excuse me??’ What did aura have to do with this situation? Yuji tugs at the bindings with more force, but nothing. It doesn’t budge.

‘Yowai mo~’ … Did he just- did he just get called weak by someone who sounded like a little kid? Yuji almost laughed. Almost being the key word here, since Yuji felt a little too high strung now to find humour in this situation. But in the face of the current situation, it wasn’t exactly incorrect. His frustration rises for a moment, and he doesn’t notice Gojo approaching until he’s right in front of him.

“Itadori Yuji, I’m rather hurt.” Gojo didn’t sound hurt at all. “I was just telling you exactly why the higher ups want you dead. Aren’t you the teeeeniest bit curious?” He crossed his arms as he stretched the word out, his expression so unserious Yuji honestly expected him to start pouting. “What could possibly be more interesting than this?” Yuji couldn’t find an answer to satiate the man’s curiosity, because frankly he was confused as fuck. Gojo gazed at him expectantly. At least, Yuji thought he did.

“Uh… you aren’t actually gonna kill me, are you?” Yuji’s voice threatened to falter, but he held it steady. Gojo tilted his head again, the movement reminding Yuji of a cat.

Watching a mouse. One that was cornered with no chance of escape, of course.

Yikes. Yuji felt sweat bead at the base of his neck. He wishes his hands were free to wipe at it.

“What makes you say that?” Well, shit. Now, Yuji may be an idiot, but even he knows admitting to the man who’s got him tied to a chair that the curse freeloading in his body told him that Gojo was speaking absolute bullshit wasn’t a good idea. “Is Sukuna saying something?”

Gojo tuts. “Ruined the surprise, tsk.” Yuji blinks. What? “I really did want a whole dramatic reveal.” Gojo rises from his seat, pulling out a finger from his pocket, one that looks exactly like the one Yuji had swallowed, whilst sighing heavily.

‘Womp womp, go cry about it,’ Sukuna quips, and Yuji snorts out loud this time. The hell? Gojo continues to speak, ignoring the accidental sound. “As I was trying to tell you, you will be executed.” Yuji’s stomach drops. “But, I got it suspended.”

“Huh? So I won’t die now, but I’ll still die later?!” If Yuji was being slightly honest, he'd rather die sooner than later. Waiting to die, knowing that death was sure to come at a specific date and time didn't sound like a pleasant experience. It sounded absolutely anxiety inducing. Wouldn't it be better to get it over and done with? Like ripping off a bandage. Yuji shook his head slightly, grimacing at the euphemistic, simplistic comparison. Not to mention he didn’t exactly understand why he had to get exe-

(Insert violent explosion sound. You can imagine it, I’m sure. Vine boom sfx.) BANG!

“Itadori-kun~ “ Yuji’s head lifts at his name, and his heart stops for a moment as he flinches at the sound and sudden flash of light. It's a missile assault against his senses. When Yuji blinks open his eyes, the wall behind Gojo sports a large crater, smoking slightly. The man in question looks smug. “Well, at least there’s that. So, Itadori-kun! As you can see, the fingers are quite literally indestructible. And there’s twenty of them.” Twenty??

‘Ewww! Why are there twenty? Does Gojo not know how to count?’ Sukuna sounded as disappointed as though someone had told him Santa wasn’t real. Yuji would know the feeling, and couldn’t help but agree with the curse’s words. Perhaps Gojo also meant Sukuna’s toes? That’s..eurgh. Wait, why was Sukuna surprised? Weren’t they his???

“Err…” Yuji attempts, weakly, “do you mean his fingers and toes?”

“Nope! Ryomen Sukuna had four arms.” Right. Because that was the obvious conclusion. Yuji wants to go home, although the chances of that seem slimmer by the moment.

‘Oh yeah, now I remember…’

‘How would you not know this?? Aren’t they your fingers??’ ‘No, obviously.’ Oh, boy, Yuji didn’t like the sass dripping off the curse’s words like syrup. The answer was just as confusing as it was infuriating. What was with all the fanfare about the magical indestructible fingers that didn’t even belong to the curse it apparently came from?

Gojo sighs, dramatically. “I don’t know, Itadori-kun. One would assume that someone who’d just received their execution notice would be a little more attentive?” He’s trying, okay??

‘Skill issue.’

Breathe in, breathe out.

He really is.

“Well, the seals sorcerers use today just can’t keep up with Sukuna’s fingers. They grow stronger by the day. And that is where you come in!

“See, the higher ups really wanted to execute you. They’re quite trigger happy when it comes to these. But executing you right now would be a waste, no? Especially considering you’re a one-in-a-thousand occurrence.”

“Is that so.” He’s hung up on the “waste” part. He isn’t usually one for dry snark, but calling his death wasteful seems a little cold. He isn’t sure what else to respond with, in any case.

“Yup! So the choice, really, is yours. Die now, or after eating all of Sukuna’s fingers.”

There isn't much of a choice, is there?

‘Where are we going?’ Yuji’s found that Sukuna is honestly quite chatty. And for a curse that was stored in a relic that looked old as hell, he’s ridiculously informal. He doesn't understand why, but Yuji feels really old interacting with him. Ha, the irony. Not for the first time, Yuji thinks that Sukuna sounds like a constantly sugar-high hyperactive kid. Something about his voice, maybe?

‘Yujiiiiiiii~” There’s no way the sorcerers want to execute him because of this kid, right? It seems a little…much of an overreaction.

“SHOUNEN PROTAG! Where are we going??’ Oh, sweet lord-

Informal is, perhaps, the wrong word. Or perhaps too mild of a word. Sukuna’s language is riddled with slang Yuji can’t figure out half of for the life of him, and he’s resorted to calling Yuji a shounen “protag” whenever Yuji doesn’t respond to him. Which has been a lot in the last five minutes, but Yuji’s got a lot on his mind right now. Like putting his feet one in front of the other as he makes his way to the right hospital room. It’s a little soon for hospitals, he feels. But he has to. He owes Sasaki and Iguchi that much, at least,

‘We’re visiting my friends. The ones that were attacked by the curse you killed.’ Exorcised. Curses were exorcised, right. Like what Fushiguro wanted to do to him right before Gojo came along.

‘What curse?’ ‘Seriously? The one that was atta-’

‘Why are you wasting time on literal NPCs bro? What in the side quest is this?? So boring…’ Yuji has the impression of Sukuna kicking his legs in frustration. Yuji frowns in indignation but doesn’t respond, since Sukuna seems to retreat. He doesn’t know how he knows, but he can sense it. He wonders briefly what exactly it is Sukuna’s doing. No point dwelling on it, however; he’s at Iguchi’s hospital room door.

Yuji’s seated on a bench, watching the smoke from the hospital’s chimneys curl and rise. He sighs, head turning slightly as he hears approaching footsteps. Yuji can virtually hear Sukuna’s interest piquing as Gojo approaches. He was silent the entire hospital visit, for which Yuji is thankful.

“Who died?” Gojo takes a seat on the bench next to Yuji.

“My grandfather. But he was more of a father than anything.” Gojo nodded.

“Ah, terrible timing. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t mention it.” The silence lasted quite literally a minute before a voice piped up. Yuji winced at the odd sensation on his cheek, his hand instinctively swatting up at it.

“Mmmfh!!” A sharp pain had Yuji’s hand darting swiftly away from his face.

“What the hell??”

“Why are you guys taking ages? When are we going to the school?” Sukuna whined. It was very much a whine. Undeniably so. Gojo tilts his head at the childish complaint.

“Did…did you just bite me?” Yuji rubs his hand against his sleeve, before inspecting the small bite marks. “And what do you mean by school?” Yuji looked towards Gojo in confusion, who was very interestedly fixated on a certain part of Yuji’s face. Experimentally, Yuji poked a finger towards the weird sensation, and shrieked when something licked at it. “Ergh!!” Sukuna giggled once more.

“Seems like your body got something of an upgrade, Itadori-kun.” Gojo mused, before leaning backwards. “Sukuna?”

“Yeah?”

“How did you know about the school?” Gojo’s expression was unreadable behind his blindfold, but his gaze appeared to pin Sukuna down regardless.

“Megumi said something about it to Yuji!” Sukuna chirped. Gojo hummed in consideration, filing away the response. Gojo did mention that in the candle talisman room, Yuji can recall, but he doesn't remember Fushiguro saying anything of the sort. Was Sukuna misremembering?

“Is that so? He didn’t tell me that.” Gojo claps his hands, refocusing his attention on Yuji. “To answer your question, Itadori-kun, the school Sukuna mentioned is the same one Megumi is attending.” Fushiguro, Yuji’s memory supplied. Megumi was Fushiguro’s first name. Upon seeing Yuji’s questioning look, Gojo smiled. “It’s a special school, I should mention. Where students are trained to become sorcerers and fight curses.”

“Do curses cause a lot of casualties?” Yuji asked, tentatively. Gojo hummed again.

“Well, this case is sorta special, considering Sukuna’s fingers are very powerful cursed objects. Curses do cause lots of damage, and often too.” He tilts his head upwards, considering. “It’s pretty lucky to die a conventional death after seeing curses. And frequently, you’ll find bodies torn apart. While searching for these parts of Sukuna, you’ll witness terrible things.

“There’s also no guarantee you wont end up that way yourself.” Yuji shudders slightly. “So, pick your poison.”

“This feels a lot like a red pill blue pill situation, except the blue pill is secretly a red pill.” Yuji says, tone wry. There really wasn’t much of a choice. His guilt wouldn’t allow it.

“Then just combine them to make a purple one.” Sukuna must’ve not heard Yuji properly. Did he hear himself? What?

“What.” Perhaps Yuji didn’t hear correctly.

“Hollow Purple! Oh wait, I wanted to ask Gojo something!!” Sukuna almost shouts, and Yuji winces at the volume. He turns towards Gojo, who’s silently staring at the mouth on his cheek. “Gojo! Do yo-“ Sukuna starts giggling, suddenly, breaking his line of dialogue. “Do you like Kit-Kat?”

Gojo simply stares at Sukuna, apparently lost for words, before slowly shaking his head. Sukuna’s about to respond, and Yuji can feel his palpable disappointment, but then Gojo speaks up. “Sure, why not? I’m not too picky when it comes to sweets.” Sukuna laughs as if he heard the punchline to a very funny joke before disappearing. Yuji stares at the ground, aware of Gojo’s perplexed silence. He absentmindedly kicks at a stone. Well.

Yuji gingerly holds the urn, imagining the warmth emanating from it seeping into his hands.

“So. If..when all the parts of Sukuna are gone, will there be less people suffering from curses?” Yuji asked, not looking towards the man standing across from him.

“Of course.”

Yuji inhaled deeply, the smell of smoke still lingering in the room. “Do you still have that finger?” Gojo nods, passing it along to Yuji. The weird sensation rippled across his cheek once more.

“Awh hell nah, it looks so nasty- why would you eat that??“ Sukuna exclaimed. Yuji bristles.

“It’s literally your finger, I don’t think you can judge!” It did, truthfully, look quite nasty. Disgusting as hell.

“Nuh uh!”

“What do you mean, “nuh uh”??” Yuji grimaces, before swallowing it in one gulp.

…

…

And nothing. He looks up at Gojo, who’s leaning against the door in appraisal. He’s rather silent for someone who just watched someone else swallow what is apparently the most evil object in existence. “Is something wrong?” Yuji questions. Was this a test?

“Oh, nothing at all. Does this mean you’re ready for this?” Gojo asks, moving off the door. “Nope.” Yuji replies, popping the “p”. “I still don’t get why I have to be executed just because I swallowed an expired finger.” Yuji cringes. “Okay, that sounded weird. But the thing is, I don’t see how these super evil fingers could belong to the curse that you say they’re from.”

“How, indeed.” Gojo mutters.

“But I can’t ignore the damage these curses do, so swallowing them it is. Whatever happens next, I don’t really care. I’m to die either way, right?” Yuji might be imagining it, but Sukuna seems to dim slightly at these words. Gojo smiles at Yuji.

“I like people who think like you! A fun hell awaits, so pack your bags. We’re heading to the school.”

“The one Sukuna mentioned, right?”

“Right.” Gojo checks his phone as a notification comes in. “Ah, good. He’s arrived.”

“Who?”

“Ah, just Megumi. I had someone drive him to the school in advance. His injuries needed looking over.”

“Couldn’t he… just have had them treated at the hospital?”

“Ah, but you see, Itadori-kun,” Gojo smiles, holding up a finger, “who needs hospitals when you have magical healers?”

“What? Really?” That sounds so cool! Yuji wonders if it’s possible for him to learn it.

“Yes, except replace magic with cursed energy and healer with doctor.”

“Ohh.” Gojo turns to leave, and Yuji follows out behind him.

The first thing Yuji notices as the pair travel towards the school is that there’s a lot of foliage. More than he’d expect there to be in a city like Tokyo. The amount of green to be seen in one place is almost gobsmacking.

“It’s pretty far into the mountains, is this really still Tokyo?” Yuji asks, dubiously.

“Nah, this is normal for the outskirts of Tokyo.” Gojo continues to talk about the school and its purpose, Yuji half-listening as he beholds his surroundings.

“By the way,” Gojo claps, “you’ll be having an interview. With the school’s principal, of course. Try not to screw it up; you won’t get admitted if you do.” Excuse him??

“Wait, what?? Wouldn’t that mean I’ll just get instantly executed?”

“Hmmmmm~” That’s not an answer???

“Why does Yuji have to get executed?” Gojo turns around at the rather unexpected voice. Yuji’s hand lifts, but then drops to his side as Yuji smiles sheepishly.

“Uh, sorry, I don’t really know how to make him quiet.” Yuji winces.

“Womp womp.” The words lack the usual amusement behind them. Not that the present company understood said words. Gojo continues walking after a lengthy stare. He seems to be analysing something, although Yuji can’t for the life of him imagine what.

“Well, obviously to get rid of you, Sukuna. You’re quite the curse on humanity.” Gojo snorts at his own wording. There’s something at the edge of Yuji’s awareness, a flicker that feels distinctly like fear, and distantly Yuji recognises it as coming from Sukuna.

“But why?” Gojo continues.

“Well, the Ryomen Sukuna of legend is a four-armed, double-faced fierce god. But he was an actual person who lived a millennium ago.”

“What’s a millennium?” Sukuna interrupts.

Yuji replies, “I’m pretty sure it’s a thousand years.”

“But I wasn’t even born a thousand years ago!!” Sukuna retorts. “Don’t you know anything?”

“How old are you, then?” Gojo asks, tone purposefully light.

“Eight! And three quarters.” Sukuna sounds oddly proud at the admission. Yuji balks. This is who the sorcerers were so afraid of? Who they wanted to execute?

“Ryomen Sukuna,” Gojo continues as if oblivious to Yuji’s reaction, “existed at the pinnacle of Jujutsu, where techniques flourished. Sorcerers aimed to defeat him, but they all failed miserably. He’s so strong that even in death, no one could destroy so much as his grave wax. He’s truly earned his title of the King of Curses.”

“Glazer.” Sukuna quips. Gojo faces Yuji, curiously.

“What?”

“The glaze is actually insane.”

Gojo remains silent for a while, and Yuji coughs awkwardly. “Yeah, he talks weirdly, I’ve noticed.”

“You don’t say.”

The silence lingers, and Yuji attempts to break it. “So, Gojo, between you and the Sukuna from a millennium ago, who’s stronger?”

Gojo hums, considering the question. “Well, I’d have a little trouble if he regained all his power.” The fingers, Yuji realised.

“But would you lose?”

“Nah, I’d win.”

“Nah, I’d win.” Sukuna giggles slightly, the somber mood he exuded before dissipating slightly, before returning. “But you don’t though.” Sukuna sounded almost sad, as if realising something.

“You’ve mentioned this before, Sukuna,” Yuji asks, tentatively. “You said something about Gojo dying. Do you think you can beat him or something?”

“No.”

“Then, what? You really don’t think so?” Yuji doesn’t notice Gojo watching the conversation intensely.

“Obviously not. I’m not actually Sukuna. Don’t you know anything?”

Chapter Text

There is something off about Sukuna. One could say several somethings. Gojo knows this. And it’s not just the fact he’s a kid, either.

From the moment he laid eyes on Itadori on that rooftop, something about the cursed energy leaking out of him had felt... wrong. Well. Two things, actually.

One, the sheer amount of cursed energy leaking out of this kid. It flowed out in uncontrolled, unrestrained waves, and in any other situation Gojo could have passed it off as an attempt to appear threatening, were it not for the fact that the execution was sloppy. Childishly so. Like a toddler wielding a chainsaw or something. If Gojo hadn’t known better, he’d have assumed that Sukuna had never once used cursed energy before.

The more he watches, though, the more likely this appears to be. Which makes absolutely no sense.

And two, Sukuna’s cursed energy had a distinct disturbance to it. Like visual noise. It almost hurt to look at, and Gojo knew that removing his blindfold to observe it better would be a bad idea. It looked as though it were audible, although Gojo couldn’t explain why exactly. Baring his Six Eyes in full to, well, whatever this was, seemed like a surefire way to induce epilepsy.

He’s a kid, and not even a sorcerer one, and were those freaking baby teeth???

There’s a gap too, where a tooth was lost and hadn’t been replaced yet. Wow.

Gojo had watched dumbly at the face that manifested on Itadori’s cheek.

Listened as—and he’s gonna be so honest here—probably-not-Sukuna complains about the lack of urgency, with a hint of amusement. The amusement fading into curiosity at the knowledge he explained away, morphing into a trickle of confused horror at the mention of Hollow Purple. His secret extension technique. Which, by all records, no one outside of a select few of the Gojo clan had any business knowing. And Gojo’s still wrestling that confusion when the damn kid switched lanes to sweets, of all things.

And that’s not even all! Gojo doesn’t comment through the absolute butchering of pronunciation when Sukuna speaks. It’s not even a matter of fluency, but the accent is there. Noticeable. British? Australian? What? There’s even a slight lisp.

He could think about that later, though, because-

“Obviously not. I’m not actually Sukuna. Don’t you know anything?”

Gojo blinked.

For fuck’s sake.

How do you mess up sealing yourself in your own fingers that badly?

This isn’t funny anymore ngl. They’re dragging this way too long. It looks like it’s morning, and if he doesn’t get out and wake up he’s so cooked. It’s the holidays, though…but still.

The iPad might be dead, so he can’t really get in trouble for it without proof if anyone barges in.

His sister’s probably gonna bang on the door soon. What time is it, even? He can’t tell, because he’s stuck in this gloomy place without even a clock and it’s lowkey boring.

How does he leave?

How do people wake up from dreams? Something about pinching yourself to wake up? He’s never dreamt like this before, but it’s gotta be a dream. Maybe if he asked this knock-off goofy Gojo who didn’t fight him but apparently likes KitKat…

He trudges his feet through the rust-red water. It’s not cold. It doesn’t even feel like water, really. Dream.

“Hey, Gojo?” He shouts out to nothing.

He still doesn’t really understand how he can hear and see outside. It’s weird, and he’s gotta focus on it and even then he can’t choose where he’s looking, but he’s heard anyways.

“Yes, Sukuna?” Gojo turns his head towards him as he continues walking. To the interview? No thanks, he wants to get off rn.

He’s made his way to the tall pile of bones that the real Sukuna sits on, and maybe if he climbs it he’ll see a way out, but like… how exactly is it possible to climb it… there’s a lot of pointy bones, horns and stuff.

“I wanna leave.” Sukuna says, bluntly, turning away from the macabre pile of skulls as his vision is filled with buildings and trees and Gojo.

Gojo seems to pause for a moment, before smiling. “Ah, so about that.” He turns around, leading the way to Yaga’s office, although his steps slow.

“I wanna leave.” His vision shutters for a moment. Is it glitching? Does this mean it’s working? “I don’t wanna stay here. This dream lowkey SUCKS.” 0/10 stars ong. Ts so ahh.

Now, at this, Gojo completely stops in his tracks, turning towards him fully. He’s taking a long time to answer. Sukuna’s stomach is doing something funny and he doesn’t like it, or the man’s silence. Can he just hurry up…

Hands come up to and away from his vision and he flinches at the sudden movement before disconnecting from what must be Yuji’s vision and skulls and red-black waters surround him once more. He feels a little sick, but in a sort of weird not-real way that really just makes it worse.

“Well, Sukuna,” —and here, Gojo hesitates, and Sukuna wants to cover his ears—”you can’t.” Gojo winces. “Once you’ve incarnated in Yuji, you can’t just leave. That’d be too easy.”

No.

“Gojo…” Yuji falters, before saying something else. Probably. Sukuna doesn’t hear the rest of what’s being said. The ringing is way too loud.

He can’t be stuck here. Any minute now, he’s gonna wake up. He’s gonna wake up and dodge his sister trying to pull at his hair while chastising him for sleeping past 8 on a weekday, and then blame it on him watching YT Shorts all night, and he’ll argue that it’s the holidays and he can sleep whenever, like always. This is just a crazy dream.

A really really bad one, but still one, right?

His hands are shaking. Oh.

She’s gonna think he ran outside and ran away but how did this even happen?? He didn’t leave on purpose, not this time anyways! And!! Anime doesn’t just become real!!!! This can’t be real. The pounding in his head, though, tells him otherwise and-

He lets out a shrill shriek and jumps aside as a portion of the bone pile comes tumbling down near him. Ah, crap, he kicked it. He tilts his head up, struggling to remain calm, but his throat’s feeling tight. He doesn’t like this, he doesn’t like this at all.

“I dunno what that means but I don’t wanna stay here and I don’t know why can’t I leaveeee?” It’s not fun. This isn’t fun. He hates this. He wants out.

His chest feels tight, and it isn’t just his hands that are shaking, his legs are too, his jaw clenching, body tensing up, so much it hurts. The water has decided to NOW start seeping into his socks and it's pissing him off and—

“I. WANNA. GO. HOME.”

He screams it loudly enough for the words to ricochet around the domain, bouncing back at him. He turns towards the large pile of skulls and kicks at it again. Punches at it. It hurts, but not as much as it should. He does it again anyways.

He’s stopped trying to listen for a reply, yelling out demands with shuddering breaths.

“Take me back- I don’t like it here! I don’t WANT to be here!! WHAT DID I DO?”

The bones rattle as they fall, narrowly missing him as he flails and falls backwards. He pushes at the water that isn’t water while sobbing and shuddering and crap, he can’t breathe properly. He continues shouting, his voice going hoarse, shaking as though he’s freezing. He feels cold.

“I didn’t mean to leave, (-----). I was joking, I swear…” His sobs, which were fading, return with a vengeance.

He’s not waking up, is he? He’s stuck here. He’s not getting that knock-knock-kick-the-door-open thing his sister always does. No one’s coming. He’s stuck in a world that isn’t real and in the role of someone who’s gonna die.

He’s scared.

[30 minutes later or smth]

There’s got to be a way out of this place. Maybe if he continues walking, he’ll find a door or something. Like those obby mazes. Or Doors. Maybe he needs a key. He’s been tracking through the ankle-deep “water” for what seemed like ages. Clearly asking Gojo for help wasn’t gonna work. His head still hurts. It pounds. He tries timing his footsteps with the throbbing pain and oh god he’s actually so cooked.

The pile of skulls has been getting smaller and smaller every time he looks behind him. He’s super far away from it now, but he can’t see an end in sight. The weird ceilings and walls seem to stretch out forever.

Sukuna decides against looking outside for now. He needs to get out of here first. Not that he’ll ever admit it aloud, but it’s lowkey creepy.

He’ll leave. He’s gonna leave this creepy-ahh place and find out it wasn’t actually real and that he was literally just tripping. And then he’ll tell (----) all about it. But wait… if he does tell her, she’d just ensure he never watched JJK again! Not like he got to watch the actual show, but she’ll probably ban him from watching anything about it and say that he’s too young, and will get nightmares, an-

The floor beneath him gives way all of a sudden, and he squeaks. His stomach lurches, and suddenly gravity’s yanking him downwards and he can’t get air and the thump-thump of his heartbeat rushes in and roars through his ears and—

(Insert ROBLOX “oof” death effect. Not the new garbage one. I mean the ICONIC one. ykwim.)

Sukuna’s stunned by flashing colours and blaring noise. His ears ring. His vision whites out in glitchy static. It’s like someone unplugged his brain and jammed the cord into a different socket and aiyaaaaa it hurts his head.

“Блять-!!” Sukuna wheezes, wincing as he covers his eyes. What the actua-???

The surface below him feels cold, like metal. He narrows his eyes.

Blue. He’s…outside?

There’s no bones. No skulls. The water is normal.

“...yo?”

He’s surrounded by blue. Well, and a bunch of other colour RGB light looking things, but blue. Blue water—normal water—laps around the metal plate he’s landed(?) on, and it smells like…

“What kind of beach is this??? 💀😭” The water is shallow as hell, there’s no sand, and— “IS THAT A SPEAKER???? Wait, WHAT THE HELL?!”

It’s super large and shiny, oddly familiar for some reason, and it towers over him. The RBG lights reflect off the water, and it looks like someone dumped rainbow paint all over the surface.

He makes his way off the metal platform and wades into yet more water, turning around to see what it wa-

It’s a freaking Roblox spawn point.

Sukuna stares at it for all of two seconds.

“Aiya…wallahi I’m cooked.”

He’s so dead.

“Uhh…” He looks around, taking in the endless expanse of ankle-high water, the neon ambient lighting, and the massive speaker in the distance that’s just throwing out random colors.

Why the hell is there a speaker here? Where did Sukuna’s domain go?? He definitely likes it better here, but he’s never seen this place before. Never in all his JJK-edits-browsing days. And he’s seen PLENTY.

He should probably find a way to get back there. He’s getting even more lost now.

But how?

He stares back up at the large speaker. It looks like it’s turned off. Experimentally, he kicks at it.

And…nothing.

“What am I even supposed to connect this with???” It’s basically useless. Are we being fr rn. “How do I even get bac-”

He’s startled out of his internal line of questioning by a screen suddenly popping up in front of him, glitching in and out of existence too fast for him to read. Because, well, his reading speed is ass, chat. What did you expect from an 8 year old? 💔

[READ THE AUTHOR’S NOTE OR ELSE. I CAN SEE YOU. Also today’s chapter was sponsored BY STARLITCROWS]

“What???” Sukuna lunges at thin air, but the screen is gone. “What did that say?? Where did it go???”

(lmao. sips tea while watching this kid flounder.)

He looks around frantically, before squealing for what must be the billionth time—today. Tonight? Who cares? —as he falls backwards onto his rear and makes a splash in the ridiculously warm waters. He’s busy marvelling at the fact it didn’t hurt before realising he’s not meant to be here.
He walks to the Bluetooth speaker, which is even more massive up close. But NOT AS MASSIVE AS TH-[I legally had to shut him up the low taper fade meme triggers me].

Hey, wait a minute…

He hadn’t seen it earlier, but as he made his way around the perimeter of the MASSIVE speaker, he found a door. A very obviously locked one. He knows its locked because it has a gigantic padlock on it. A shiny one. The door was a goldish metallic color, and it lowkey looked like one of those dungeon doors in World Zero. Not that he played it anymore, the game fell off ages ago. (calm down bro you played it like last year)

But the funny thing was if he looked through the closely-spaced bars, he saw-

“SUKUNA’S DOMAIN?”

He pulls on the door, but it doesn’t budge an inch.

He isn’t even THAT surprised when a screen appears in front of him again. The text on it, however, surprises the shit out of him.

[Would you like to buy “Malevolent Shrine”? (Cancel) (⬡ 30)]

…

What.

“What.” He says aloud, because the audience needs to hear him too.

He clicks on the “⬡ 30” anyways, because why not? It’s not like it ACTUALLY wants Rob-

[You need 30 more Robux to buy the product “Malevolent Shrine”.]

[Would you like to buy more Robux?]

⬡40

[(Buy Robux) (Cancel)]

Sukuna stares at the screen. Blinks. Looks around as if searching for an answer from the water.

And then looks back to the screen, staring once more.
There’s a beat of silence, where even the small waves lapping around his feet have stilled. And then-

“ARE. YOU. KIDDING. ME?!?1” he shrieks, voice cracking in utter incredulity.

He mashes the “Buy Robux” button, but nothing happens. It doesn’t even ATTEMPT to load a payment screen. He attempts to punch it, but it flickers out before he can make contact with it. He settles for kicking the door, deciding it his new victim.

“HELLO????”

Kick. The door rattles but doesn’t budge an inch. Kick. The water splashes around him as he stomps his feet, the RGB lights twinkling mockingly at his outburst. Kick.

He flops to the ground, ignoring the angry splash of water around him. It wasn’t even wet, anyways.

“WHY DOES EVERYTHING COST MONEYYYYYYYYYYYY??” he screams. The screen disappears. “I JUST WANNA GO BACK TO THE OTHER PLACE AND LEAVEEE-”

He sobs dramatically for all of two minutes before peeking through his fingers and checking to see if the screen is still there.

It’s not.

“Racist ass game.” he mutters, throwing an arm over his face. The sun’s beating down on him pretty hard. Well, fake sun. Whatever.

Something nudges at Sukuna’s side. He launches upwards, heart racing, before coming face to face with the most cyan coloured dolphin he’s ever seen.

No, seriously. The ones at AQWA weren’t that color. It looks cartoony. It’s literally floating. Dolphins don’t fly.

He edges away from it, staring at its beady eyes in uncertainty. Where the heck did ts come from 💀?

The dolphin lets out a clicking sound.

Sukuna freezes, before walking away.

“Nuh uh. Nope. No.”

He doesn’t walk far, though, before curiosity has him turning around to look back at the dolphin.

It’s still there. Staring at him.

Nope, he doesn’t want a staring contest. He’d win, anyways. No point.
The dolphin in question lets out a happy little squeak and bobs in the air, like it’s waiting for him to do something.
Sukuna just stares. Still frowning, hands fisted. Still vibrating with annoyance at the microtransaction betrayal. But…
“…this place gets weirder every five minutes, istg,” he mutters, cautiously reaching out his hand as he walks back to the dolphin. Maybe it knows the way out?

…that’s probably the most delulu thing he’s thought today.
The dolphin immediately pushes its nose into his palm, like a puppy, and Sukuna gasps. They never let the kids pet the dolphins on that class excursion to AQWA this year, but his sister sa-
Oh.
The shikigami nuzzles into Sukuna’s hand, but he doesn’t really notice it as much now.

At first, it’s just noise.
Garbled, nonsensical static—like an old machine trying to produce sound it physically can’t.
Gojo’s barely half-paying attention when it starts, flicking his gaze worriedly from Itadori’s paling face to the distorted flickers of cursed energy curling unnaturally around his body.
Gojo watches as the boy rubs at his eyes and temples, his face ashen as he tries and fails to work his mouth.

Gojo leans forwards, although Itadori doesn’t seem to notice. His expression is pained.

“Yo, Earth to Itadori-kun~” No response. “Is everything alright?”

Rhetorical question, of course—Gojo can sense Sukuna’s cursed energy writhe and curl in on itself, a festering storm of anger and pain. Still, Yuji shakes his head.
“Gojo-” Clearly, something was going on up there. He should’ve been kinder with his words. Whatever was going on, even if he didn’t understand it, didn’t seem to be a bit. He watches as Itadori winces and his breath catches at something Sukuna said.
“Gojo…” the boy continues, expression bordering on pained horror, “Sukuna’s crying.”
Ah, fuck.
“Maybe don’t tell the kid he can’t go home? He’s-” Itadori cringes, “-I just don’t get it, Gojo.”

Gojo’s silent.
Itadori grips his arms, nails digging into skin. “He was crying,” he mutters. “He was crying about his sister. He sounded scared. Why did he sound so—?”
He stares at Gojo, voice rising in panic. “Why is he a kid? Why the hell is Sukuna a kid?!” The words unsaid are practically audible. Why are the sorcerers executing a child? Itadori’s face is flushed with mounting confusion and anger.

Gojo doesn’t answer right away. His eyes narrow slightly behind his blindfold. There it is. The question he’d been asking himself ever since “Sukuna” incarnated.
Itadori doesn’t stop there. “Why does he sound so scared all the time? Why does he talk like he just learned to curse five minutes ago?! He was crying, Gojo! That wasn’t evil, that was a meltdown! That was a kid having a breakdown! He’s-” Yuji flinches once more, gaze turning inward.

Gojo doesn’t speak.
He knows. He knows.
It was obvious, there from the beginning—he just didn’t want to say it out loud. Didn’t want to believe that the most dangerous curse in history had somehow been replaced with a panicking child. Because if that were true…

That leaves the question of where the real Sukuna was. And…what the hell had he done?

The silence hits.
Not just the absence of noise.
The absence of presence. Specifically, Sukuna’s.

The cursed energy vanishes. Just—snaps out. Like someone yanked a plug from the wall. His senses reel from the sudden drop. Gojo reaches instinctively with Six Eyes, scouring the core of Itadori’s soul—and Sukuna’s energy is there again, like nothing had happened.

And looking at the boy, Gojo knows he wasn’t the only one who noticed it.

“W-What the FUCK-?” It’s strange hearing the boy swear, but Gojo can’t blame him for it. What’s more worrying is that Itadori’s face seems to pale further as he looks back up at Gojo.

“He’s not talking. I can’t hear him.” Itadori’s tone is sharp, his eyes wide and wet and panicked. He’s clutching his head like he’s trying to dig something out.
“I—he was just screaming. He was crying—he was crying about his sister, I think—but now it’s just—” His voice breaks. “It’s silent. What…”

Gojo interjects before Itadori can spiral further. “He’s there. He’s not gone.”

A beat of silence. Gojo lets out a breath.

“…His cursed energy just went silent. He’s still there, don’t worry. You can still feel him, right?”

Itadori stares up at him, dumbly. “Then, what-?”

Gojo claps his hands, startling him. “Interview, remember?” Itadori stares as if Gojo’s lost a few marbles and then ten more. Gojo walks on. Itadori’s footsteps are perhaps the most reluctant ones he’s heard. Like, ever.

They got the wrong fucking guy. They got a KID.

Shit.

If Yuji had a penny for every time he ended up in a candlelit magical roo-
Nope. Not the time.

He’s trying and failing to distract himself from the eerie silence echoing in his mind. It’s not even been a day, and the sensation is already strange. He got used to the kid pretty darn fast, hadn’t he? And if he doesn’t convince the man they’re seeing now—the principal, dammit—that he belongs in this school he’s gonna get both of them executed.

If Yuji wipes his hands on his hoodie once or twice, Gojo doesn’t mention it.

He can do this, though. How hard can it be? It’s just a school. A school for sorcerers that will have his head one way or the other- and Gojo’s pushing the door open for the both of them before Yuji can even ask for a breather. Ah, well.

For a moment, all he can make out is the warm flickering of candlelight amidst darkness, before his eyes adjust and land on a man seated on the ground at the end of the room. Yuji squints. No way.

The man is surrounded by what appears to be an assorted arrangement of dolls. Dolls that he seem to have made, because he’s currently sewing the seams of one in hand.

They’re rather adorable, Yuji’ll admit.

He's startled out of his confusion by the deep rumble of the man’s voice.

“You’re late, Satoru,” the dollmaker grunts, and from the tone of his voice he isn’t surprised in the slightest. “Eight entire minutes,” he adds, before huffing, “and as usual, it’s not enough to rebuke you for. Haven’t I told you to fix that poor habit of yours?” He shifts in his spot and lifts his head to meet Gojo’s gaze.

“If it isn’t enough to scold me over, then we should just sweep it under the rug. What’s eight minutes when you’re simply making dolls?” Gojo retorts. “Besides, there was a really good reason.” Gojo turns to Yuji, smiling slightly as he gestures towards the man. “This is Principal Masamichi Yaga, by the way.”

Ah. He seemed stern. Very much so. And hard to impress. A knot forms in Yuji’s stomach, but he ignores it. He can do this.

Yaga tilts his head towards Yuji, who tries not to jolt. “This is the boy?”

He should probably do something. He bows, feeling the weight of his bag shift across his back as he does so.

“Itadori Yuji.” he introduces himself. What else does he say? His mouth is dry and his idea-bank drier. “It’s an honor, sir.” Hopefully the dim lighting masks his inexperience. Inexperience for what exactly, he isn’t sure. He’s never sat an interview before, but really, how hard can it b-

“What are you here for?”

…

“An interview?” Shit, he blanked. Yaga seems unimpressed.

“But why Jujutsu High?” he presses on.

“...to learn jujutsu?”

What kind of questions even are those? Is it a trick question? Yuji slowly straightens up. He’s here to swallow Sukuna’s fingers and then get executed, no? His answer is apparently not the answer Yaga wants, because he shakes his head.

“I mean beyond learning jujutsu. What do you plan to do with the knowledge gained from studying curses? What exactly do you hope to find while learning the art of exorcising them?”

Yuji squints internally. Ah, he’s screwed. He’ll just have to answer honestly and hope for the best. He’s not prepared for the mental gymnastics composing a right answer will need, and he’ll probably mess it up anyways.

Honesty is the best policy and what not, right…?

“Well…I do have to collect all of Sukuna’s fingers. They’re dangerous left all out there, right?” That is the reason he’s here. But-

“Why not?” Yaga intones.

For fuck’s sak-

The room seems both warmer and colder than it was a moment ago, and sweat trickles down the back of Yuji’s neck.

“Huh?” he says, real intelligently.

“People die every day. Crime, injuries, accidents, illness. It’s part of life. What makes those caused by curses any different? What about curse-related deaths makes it impossible for you to overlook?”

Yuji’s pretty sure he hears a “ah, shit, here we go again” from Gojo somewhere behind him.

Honesty, right? He can do that.

“It was a dying wish of someone close to me. I don’t care about the itty bitty details. I’ll choose a path that lets me save who I can.” Yuji says.

It’s not an answer that satisfies the principal, apparently, as he rebuts with a “...Hmph. A dying wish. Is that so?” Yaga lifts a hand for some reason. “Insufficient!”

“Ah”-crap, Yuji thinks. He’s gonna die.

Yaga raises his hand higher, and one of the dolls surrounding him begins to move. Yuji shifts backwards instinctively? The dolls can move?? That’s not a doll. No way. It’s growling, the sound reverberating somewhere deep in its chest and spilling out of its mouth.

“The doll is alive-?” Yuji exclaims, somewhat snapped out of his I-need-to-survive-this-interview panic and plunged straight into What-the-hell-am-I-looking-at panic.

“In a way.” Yaga confirms. “They’re corpses, you could say, reanimated with my cursed energy.”

Yuji has only enough time to think zombies? But that doesn’t look like a zomb- before the doll disappears.

It’s in front of him. He pulls his bag off without a moment to spare, pulling it up in front of him to block the doll’s incoming punch. The impact still has him skidding off the floor, sailing several feet behind him and crashing into a pillar. He groans, mixed parts annoyed and confused and shocked, as he hits the floor.

“Agh…that’s one hell of a doll…” Yuji mutters. He opens his eyes, and they land on the dol- is it taunting him??

It’s taunting him. This is somewhat humiliating. It’s literally giggling at him, dancing and twirling around.

Yaga continues to talk. “A person’s true nature is revealed in a crisis. So, consider the barrage of attacks as perpetual until I receive a satisfactory answer.”

Seriously???

“Look, man,” Yuji grits out, “it wasn’t just anyone. It was from my grandfather.” He gets up, darting forward and punching the damned doll. The collision with his fist results in the doll bouncing off it and ricocheting into the walls and pillars. It aims for the candle-lights too, plunging the room into darkness with every light snuffed out.

“Where the hell-?” There.

It slams into him, and Yuji’s sent rolling across the room, where he ends up smack against another pillar. “Urgh…”

“Family,” Yaga resumes, “is still someone else.”

Yuji doesn’t need to open his eyes to tell the doll is dancing a victory jig. Its chuckles are loud enough to tell him.

He's somewhat incensed. The doll laughter is starting to piss him off.

Well, since its a doll…It doesn’t get hurt or scared, right? If he gets the chance to, grabbing it and then restraining it should work. And he wouldn't have to worry about the force used.

“Jujutsu sorcerers are surrounded by death. Not just the threat of their own impending one, but of others, too. There’ll be times,” Yaga moves over to the side of the room across from Yuji, “where you’ll have to ignore the victims, and rend the flesh from those murdered. It’s an unpleasant job, and you’d have to be a little crazy as well as extremely motivated to do it.” He pauses in his movement.

“And yet, you tell me you’d do it because someone else asked? Don’t make me laugh.”

Oh, screw this guy.

“Hey-”

“And tell me,” Yaga interjects before Yuji can protest, “when you’re inevitably killed by a curse, will you blame your poor grandfather too?”

Yuji’s about to retort, but he holds his tongue. Ah.

“Damn, old man,” Yuji mutters, “you say some pretty painful things.”

“Teaching is making people realise the truth.” Yaga counters, bluntly.

Yuji acquiesces. “True, I guess…”

The puppet punches Yuji in the face just as he’s about to think something deep and introspective. Yuji sees stars. His vision wavers and wobbles, and his head feels as though he were plunged underwater, thoughts somewhat slippery. Yuji can vaguely make out Yaga’s next words.

“It’s not easy to imagine what exactly you’ll be feeling when on death’s door. But at the rate this is going, you very well may end up cursing your grandfather for his final wish. Jujutsu sorcerers never die without regret, so I’ll ask you one more time; why have you come to Jujutsu High?”

Why did he?

A furred fist lunges for Yuji’s face, but he dodges it, leaping upwards to tackle the doll down so he can answer. It writhes like a feral animal in his grasp.

Why did he? Because he’s found something only he can do. He’d excel in areas others struggled at physically, but it was never something unique to him. Nothing that’d stood out to him as something only he could accomplish. He grunts as the doll tries to escape the chokehold he has on it.
He’s here to rid the world of Sukuna’s fingers. That’s something Gojo said only he could do.

“Consuming Sukuna’s fingers. They’re a risk to leave around, and a danger. If I’m the only one able to get rid of them, why wouldn’t I?”

It’s his responsibility. But…

“I can’t just sit around, living my life as I did before, knowing the harm they cause. I can’t just go back to reading manga, eating, normal things I used to do, and then tell myself ‘hey, Sukuna’s fingers are out there, and they’re probably causing death and destruction,” he spits out, “‘but that’s okay because it certainly isn’t my fault.’” The guilt would eat him alive. “How could I?”

That was his resolve before all this. Before. Before he realised the curse he carried in him wasn’t an evil murderer, but a kid. A little kid.

He’s not letting them execute Sukuna. He’s innocent. Yuji knows it. The legend of old and the living relic to show for it don’t match up.

“And if it extends the deadline for my execution, I’ll take it, because there is no way you’re gonna execute him.”

The doll goes still. The sudden lack of resistance is what startles Yuji first, not the words that came out of his mouth.

Yaga’s oddly quiet.

The room practically goes [recordscratch.sfx]

Crap, Yuji realises belatedly, that was a little too much honesty.

Yaga stares at Yuji, before turning to Gojo.

“Satoru.” He says, bluntly.

Gojo smiles. “Yes, Yaga-sensei?”

With all the patience of a saint, Yaga grits out, “do you mean to tell me that the boy has been Sukuna’s vessel for all of one day, and is already compromised?”

Gojo bursts out in laughter.

“Satoru, this isn’t a laughing matter." Yaga reprimands, voice tense. "You argued with the higher-ups to postpone his death, and took responsibility for him. What were you thinking?”

“I’ll explain later.” Gojo assures Yaga.

“What do you mean ‘explain later’?”

“Yaga-sensei.” Yaga pauses.

Gojo sighs. “It’s, well, complicated. I’d rather tell you without an audience. Later?”

Yuji doesn’t notice a change in tone, but clearly Yaga must sense something, because he shifts out of what Yuji only realises now was a defensive position.

“Alright. Satoru, show him to the dorms. Ensure he understands fully the security arrangements made here.”
Gojo laughs again.

“Relax, Yaga-sensei. I’ve got this.” Gojo waves a hand, placing the other one on Yuji’s shoulder to usher him out of the room.

“You better, Satoru.” Yaga mutters. And then, louder, “Welcome to Jujutsu High.” Directed at Yuji, obviously.

Needless to say, Yuji didn’t feel very welcome. But he nods in thanks, anyway.