Chapter Text
In this dwelling place for the soul, there’s a boy—
“Hold me, Sukuna.”
And there’s a curse.
Ryomen Sukuna's gaze glowed in crimson, reflecting the light of the lamppost, the light sunk, whipping its wings down precariously, carving the darkness into pale outlines. Beyond this impromptu stage, nothing existed in sight, Kawakami had dissolved into absolute black; Ryomen Sukuna wasn't sure if this was still Kawakami even. Wrapped in a wet, sticky darkness, such was the winter of this small prefabricated world sewn upon itself like a scar, a tapestry whose threads were born and twisted diaphanous in the twilight.
In this world, Sukuna thinks to himself with a certain fatality that dawn will not arrive for one of them.
Ryomen Sukuna in his eagerness to win a bet that he had lost from the moment he made the decision to tear off Itadori Yuji’s little finger; to cleave the cage that’s the body and soul, of this boy— to return to freedom, power, and control, to be the owner of a borrowed heart, that beats parallel to his own. Counterposed.
It was the eagerness to return to the air, to the warmth of blood, to flesh and to carnage.
However, this is nothing but water under the bridge.
Some other things caught his attention, they didn’t deserve it— but the boy demanded it. And Sukuna to his own surprise, for once, felt something akin to indulgence towards the brat.
This is how Itadori Yuji raised his arm, palm outstretched towards the sky, a flick of the wrist in Sukuna's direction. An invitation, followed by the mockery of a come-hither motion. Ryomen Sukuna arched an eyebrow. Not in acquiescence nor familiar contempt either; it was nothing more than the rampant confusion he had now grown accustomed to whenever he dealt with this bothersome brat.
After all, Sukuna felt the everlasting distance he was trying to put between himself and Itadori Yuji was once again shortening, dissonant.
Especially in this makeshift world where there’s only both of them.
“Sukuna.” there was no hatred in his name, and there was nothing in those three syllables but an ineffable warmth as well as something, the iridescent spark of a nameless madness flickering within Itadori Yuji's eyes. Something Sukuna was not allowed to name. Because if it were spoken, if he named it, the fire he had so painstakingly trapped inside himself would escape from his guts, and the smoke would engulf them; it would scorch them both to ashes.
“Hey, dance with me”. Itadori Yuji breathed, and Ryomen Sukuna felt a clash of sweet, moist air against his lips, too close, unbelievably close. Sukuna blinked, and his head whiplashed with such violence that he nearly broke off his neck, yet the brat did not pull away, nor did he look offended.
He just carried on with such inhuman nonchalance.
Disgusting.
“Like put your hand around my waist, dude.” The brat pointed matter-of-factly. He did so by grasping Sukuna's right hand, fingers touching black lines on his skin with the tip of his fingernails, encircling them loose around Sukuna’s wrist, and wrapping Sukuna’s unwilling hand around his own waist.
“Don't wanna,” Sukuna said, yet he did not move, nor did he retaliate, there were no severed heads, hands or fingers.
These hands that should have been his— felt proper, his bones matched the right way, and his flesh held together. This body did not threaten to collapse like the skin of ripe fruit to be ready to rot. Unlike Fushiguro Megumi's body, this vessel was proper and fit. A golden cage. With a cherry colored bird.
“Ah, the strongest sorcerer in history doesn't know how to dance”. It was the last nail in the coffin. “How pitiful of y…”.
“Huh!?”
Itadori Yuji almost tripped over his own feet when the usually indifferent and uncooperative King of Curses interlocked their fingers with such violence that his bones cracked altogether. Thereafter, fixing their loose stance, in a seamless motion, classic promenade as if they had rehearsed it many times before. An unsuspectingly violent gesture, though.
However, the hand Itadori had placed on his own, laid now bruising the flesh, thumb tightly affirmed on Yuji's hip bone, fingers splayed way too low, too— inappropriate. Gripping him with force enough to leave bruises, an amalgam which hesitated between affection and violence, after all, these hands longed for (his) flesh, for (his) blood, for (his) bone and marrow. A vessel unlikely to ever break.
Sukuna’s hands ventured reluctantly seizing more space than they were ever meant to.
Thus, it was that in less than an instant, Itadori Yuji fell into the position of follower, left hand clasping completely around Sukuna's right shoulder in a coy, mutually supporting manner, looking astonished, even shy. Ryomen Sukuna had girdled the distance and cut off each of their escape routes. The darkness surrounding them had looked tame, shrank in comparison to Itadori Yuji's open arms, to the lonely curve of his lips—
Sukuna frowned.
“You're like a child when you act like that.”
“Shut up.” Sukuna held, “This should be enough.”
Itadori Yuji hummed in response, this was strangely closer to a fight than a dance. Nevertheless, the boy stared at his curse, blinked twice, composed his shoulders, and offered his neck.
If you burn your loneliness. Burn your secrets. Won't they become ash?
Won’t we love each other?
“Chase...” Itadori sighed, he surrendered as their bodies swayed. “And whisk and... One, two, three...”
“Stop talking.” retorted Sukuna, turning, waltzing, a world apart.
But Itadori didn't stop, he softly, under his breath, rattled on.
“Grandpa taught me how to dance once when I was little, he did so… So, I wouldn't get bored, so I wouldn’t have a chance to get sad, to keep me busy, they were gone and we were all alone in this world,” he whispered. “Grandpa would count one, two, three, and I would stomp all over his feet.”
“I don't care, about your sad sob stories"
“My arms barely reached his waist those days and everyday I asked him to dance with me...” The boy pointed out, sounding akin to defeat. “...when I was able to reach his shoulders. Grandpa had already gotten sick.”
Sukuna gave him an overlooking glance.
“I don't like repeating myself”.
Now his eyes were focused in this twinkling world, concealed in a singular beauty beyond the brat's shoulder; he stared into the everlasting darkness, and to his surprise, the abyss, elusive, looked back at him. It beheld Itadori Yuji’s welcoming body, from the bottom of his feet to the tip of his fingers.
It beheld them together.
“No, I guess you don’t... yet… I wanted to show you…”
It beheld his hearth burning, and the flickering flames on the bottom of the pyre, deep inside his viscera. It beheld how the pyre licked the tip of the brat’s fingers, of the soul that to Ryomen Sukuna’s eternal disdain echoes.
“…I wanted to dance with you”.
It beheld them both, twin figures that, when all seemed lost, held on tight, twirled and swirled without a care in the world among the snow that began to fall in the background small glittering sparks, serene, that soon became piled one on top of the other quietly—It was carved out. Sukuna held on. The dawn won't arrive for one of them, so why not indulge this silly brat for once.
“You have a nice sense of rhythm and tempo,” Itadori said.
Sukuna bit back a caustic remark.
Their hands had become warm and tethered, and the weight on Sukuna’s shoulder, once shy, was now comforting. Their breaths became one and when their chests touched in an outrageous lullaby. Sukuna could swear they had a single heart thundering like the taut string of a frozen instrument.
Then the brat ruined as he dropped some criticism like an afterthought “But you're overly demanding, you push and pull way too hard, Sukuna”.
“Hmph.”
“I'll follow you, so let's try again, Sukuna.”
And the snow had piled up enough, so the sound of their footsteps, the sound of their thundering heart was covered, the snow had started to cover it all away.
“Ah, I just wanted to dance with you.”
His eyes were closed long before he started laughing.
So, amidst the quietness, the Curse observed the shadows cast by Itadori Yuji’s eyelashes, the crooked curve of his mouth, the scar on his eyebrow,, and the fleeting snowflake that shimmered like a tear in a rather bumpy twist, was such an unlikely image. One that would remain etched on Ryomen Sukuna’s mind for eternity. It was like suffering from a translucent intoxication— Henceforth, this quiet wretchedness turned into a burning rage.
The thought of needing someone else to fulfill me never crossed my mind
That's right.
If I want to eat, I eat if I see an eyesore, I kill it.
Exactly.
And if it entertains me, I throw it a bone.
That's correct.
I live according to my own stature. If that can't be measured or understood.
It's the same as always had been.
Let me assure you…
Nothing has changed.
Love is worthless.
Nothing has changed but this bothersome little brat.
Itadori Yuji was nibbling into his heart.
If we burn everything… Won’t we love each other? Won't we become ash?
There is only his pleasure and displeasure, throughout heaven and earth, I alone am the honored one. So why... why... whywhywhywhywhy... won't the morning come.
And yet, I couldn't help but spit out the curses that churned deep in my viscera. I feared my own curse would immolate me.
And he, damned brat in all his pity, resting like a swallowtail wrapped on the spider silk, surrounded by his arms just laughed— youshouldbetheonetryingtostiflethismiseryyoushouldbetheonetryingtostiflethismiseryyoushouldbetheonetryingtostiflethismisery...
“No need to make that disgusted face, Sukuna.”
Itadori wheezed nonchalantly.
As his body fell backward to the ground, an impromptu movement, out of Sukuna’s stern guide, atypical and irreverent of this fight without conquerors nor vanquished. Sukuna held on tighten, a mesh of limbs, of a far too wide grin, fingers interlocked.
There was nothing classical in their hold.
“Shut up,” Sukuna snapped all bark and no bite “…don't do a throwaway oversway without my permission, brat.”
And the boy took one long look at the mighty King of Curse’s face and laughed and laughed and laughed and laughed.
“I'm in charge here, you said you'll follow me.”
And the boy's laughter became fire from the eye of the sky, fire from within the earth, fire from the air, fire from the seas and rivers, and for once Ryomen Sukuna immolated himself (un)willingly, he surrendered once.
“I couldn't help it!!! I had to do it!!”
“Sukuna let’s try again”.
“Did you say something?”
His breath resolves into spark and flare as his eyes remained closed, because as much as Ryomen Sukuna is holding Itadori Yuji close. The boy was also cradling him in his hands. Oh, so tenderly.
Thus, as a whole, identical and different, one and manifold; and each individual thing is identical and different, one and manifold, itself and in relation to the whole. All things, each by itself and all together, form a unity, and the unity unfolds reciprocally in all things and holds them all together.
Not to curse someone but to live with someone. Even if no one accepts you...
I alone can live with you.
When the rhythm changed and tempo slowed, this whole fragile world became a white so bright that it was blinding. And his soft hands, and his firm grasp and his closed eyes, and his acceptance and his loathsome righteousness, it all thawed him.
“How mysterious.”
His heart was beating so fast. Those twinkling sparks of snow, looking like ashes on the grown. He inhaled a whole spirit, eyes winked in pleasure; He could hear it rumbling from outside the circle, from inside the snow, from deep underground and dwelling deep inside his rib cage. This curse, this loathsome righteousness.
“Should there be a next time... Perhaps it would be nice to walk a different path”.
In this dwelling place for the soul, there's a boy—
“Ah— …”
“Sukuna? Did you say something?”
He can atone for these sins.
And there is his curse.
The one who will teach you about love is…