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Itadori’s fist collided with another small curse, launching it into a wall where it exploded in an unpleasant burst of purple.
Fushiguro frowned as Itadori shook out his hand. “The report was for a grade two. It’s certainly keeping a low profile.”
Itadori agreed. They’d been scouring this prison for nearly an hour now, and while they’d encountered a dozen of these weak curses, there was no sign yet of the one they were here to exorcise.
“Maybe we should circle back to the middle?”
“Worth a try.”
At the center of the complex was a large circular room with stairways to the upper levels and a small common area. They’d found nothing but a grade four there on their first pass, and it still seemed quiet when they stepped into it now. They stood at alert for a few moments, listening for any movement, but they heard nothing.
Itadori groaned. “This is going to take all day,” he said. “And I really wanted to go to that movie later–”
The cursed energy of the room surged so quickly they both flinched.
Fushiguro raised his hands to call his dogs, but before he could complete the sign, a massive tentacle wrapped around him, pinning his arms to his chest. Before Itadori could even react, it slammed him against a wall hard enough to make him shout.
“Fushiguro–”
Itadori only managed one step. The next moment a clawed foot struck him across the chest, slashing open his arm and knocking him to the ground. He looked up into the face of a second grade one curse and could only think Shit before the foot came down on his chest.
The pain came immediately with a horrible cracking sound. All of the air left his chest and he couldn’t get it back. With his one free arm, he scrabbled blindly at the foot holding him down. He tried to breathe but the weight on his chest was too much. Shit shit shit–-
Fushiguro yelled in pain, and Itadori’s eyes snapped to him. His legs kicked futilely at the thing holding him, his technique useless without his hands free to call his shikigami. The octopus-like curse holding him tightened its grip further, making Fushiguro gasp, and slowly opened its mouth to reveal rows and rows of jagged teeth.
The curse holding Itadori roared, its open jaws mere feet from his face. He punched its foot with all the strength he could manage, but it didn’t seem to affect it at all, its skin tough and scaled like a lizard’s. His arm throbbed, and his lungs burned. His mouth opened and closed uselessly. Black spots started overtaking his vision. Fushiguro–
Frantically, he threw his arm out beside him, feeling along the stone floor that had been shattered by the impact of the curse crushing him. His fingers closed around a sizable rock. He hoped it would be enough.
He could barely see, his lungs screaming in pain, but he pushed cursed energy into the rock and focused on the other curse as well as he could. Its mouth was inches from Fushiguro, large enough to swallow him whole. With the last of his strength, he launched the rock toward the curse’s head.
It ripped through with enough force to push the curse’s whole body to the side, and the last thing Itadori saw was Fushiguro falling to the ground before darkness overtook his vision entirely.
The next thing he knew was pain, and the realization that he could breathe.
His head hurt, and everything was fuzzy. His chest heaved as he tried to bring in as much oxygen as possible, but breathing made him cough and sputter and made his ribs scream in pain.
Someone was talking, and after a minute his head was clear enough to focus on Fushiguro’s face above him. He looked terrible; his breaths were short and jerking, too, and a line of blood ran down his forehead.
“Itadori,” he said. “You with me?”
“Here,” he wheezed, closing his eyes and feeling like the room was spinning around him. They snapped open a moment later when something pressed hard on his arm where the curse’s claws had hit him. He sucked in a breath that only made his ribs hurt more. “Ow, fuck.”
Fushiguro only glanced at him and said, “Sorry,” as he continued wrapping the wound. The bottom of his uniform jacket was torn.
Now that he was looking, Itadori noticed that the pool of blood under his arm had gotten quite large.
The blood on Fushiguro’s face was dripping into his eye. “You okay?” Itadori managed.
Fushiguro huffed an exasperated laugh. “I’m fine. That was a good move you pulled.”
“The curse?”
“Demon dogs took care of it.” Fushiguro tied off the makeshift bandage and considered Itadori. “Think you can stand?”
He helped Itadori to his feet. Itadori’s head was spinning, but he was pretty sure he wasn’t the only unsteady one. He leaned against Fushiguro, who wrapped an arm around his waist, and tried not to breathe too deeply. Together they staggered toward the exit. The veil had dropped, and clear sunlight filtered through the windows.
“Hey,” Itadori said, focusing intently on their feet so he wouldn’t trip, “do you think we can still make the movie?”
And even though Fushiguro looked away to cover his smirk, Itadori knew it was there.