Chapter Text
“How is it that of all the blundering people in Japan, my vessel turns out to be you, Itadori Yuuji?”
“If my gramps was here, he’d probably call it destiny.”
“You’ve no right to look so cheeky when you’re the one about to die, brat.”
“About that. Can you revive me?”
“I could.”
“But you won’t?”
“I will if you strike a deal with me. Don’t look so grim. It’s nothing too excessive.”
“Okay. . . what’re you offering?”
“You, Itadori Yuuji, will allow me to take over this body when I speak the word ‘enchain’ for. . . five whole minutes. And in return, I will bring no direct harm to your precious classmates.”
“You’re evil. Why would I trust you?”
“Because this is a binding vow. A promise that has negative repercussions on me specifically if broken. So then, brat, are you ready to live?”
“I want to add on to the vow.”
“Oh? Cocky now, aren’t you?”
“You, Ryoumen Sukuna, will take over this body if I use the word ‘enchain’ to help me and those important to me, whether that means protecting, defending, or fighting for us.”
“I accept the conditions, but in exchange, what I require of this binding vow is that you are prohibited from disclosing the contents of the vow itself to others aside from ourselves.”
“I accept your conditions, Ryoumen Sukuna.”
“And I accept your conditions, Itadori Yuuji.”
—
When Megumi had first entered his first year of high school, he’d stared at the grade two sorcerer level written beneath his name. When Gojo appeared to his side to ruffle his hair with high praise of the earned grade, Megumi could at least admit he might have preened just a little bit. Gojo, who was the strongest, who rarely showered Megumi with genuine praise of his abilities in favour of beating him down with insults on his lack of strengths and quips that pushed his buttons.
Most students entered as grade three sorcerers, but he’d also been training since his youth under Gojo himself. If he’d gotten anything less than a two, he might have locked himself in his room up until the first day of classes.
Needless to say, he was rather confident going on solo missions as a somewhat trained grade two sorcerer. His first year of high school should have been spent receiving actual formal training on his abilities, time for honing his cursed energy to rise up the ranks.
He’d gone on numerous solo missions even before entering Tokyo Jujutsu High, courtesy of Gojo. They ranged from something as simple yet difficult as one-on-ones with curses of all grades, mild infiltration missions, searches and retrievals, arrests, and more.
Finding the cursed item only required him masquerading at a normal high school for two days before he located said cursed item. What should have been an easy grab and go ended up with an absolutely normal student ingesting one of Ryoumen Sukuna’s fingers.
As a first year, he had not been expecting to go up against a special grade curse, the King of Curses himself. And when it was all over, he’d been most surprised at being alive.
Since that moment which literally turned his supposed-to-be peaceful school year upside down, life has been chaotic. Between Yuuji being a magnet for trouble, having a bossy and adventurous classmate like Nobara, and being the only three students of their year under Gojo of all people, his life seemed to be going a little too fast for his liking.
It took months for them all to get used to Sukuna’s indirect presence in their lives. Whether it was him popping out eyes on random parts of Yuuji’s body, or conjuring up an extra mouth to spit out insults and unhelpful taunts and commentary. When Nobara finally snapped one day, a result of Sukuna’s nonstop judgements of a movie they were watching, asking if Yuuji could shut the curse up, was when they found out by their friend in question that Sukuna usually only came out when he was really bored.
Which was pretty much all the time now.
It would be wrong to call the King of Curses a pet, if one wants to classify a killing machine with a body count in the thousands a pet, but Yuuji’s found ways to keep Sukuna somewhat satisfied. They don’t really know how Yuuji does it, but they’ve definitely caught glimpses of the energetic student feeding one of Sukuna’s mouths actual food, or casually talking with him about whatever it was Sukuna currently was interested in.
Outside of those infrequent seen instances, they don’t really know how Yuuji manages to bribe Sukuna into keeping his mouth shut, and frankly, as curious as he and Nobara are, they’ve made the unspoken agreement that not asking was probably better for their sanity and perception of both Yuuji and Sukuna.
The point is that they finally get used to Sukuna.
But the curse king will always find ways to turn their lives upside down.
Why is that important?
Well, when one wants to train alone, the last thing he needs is any of his classmates or worse, Gojo, walking in to observe or train alongside him. That was deemed the worst case scenario in his mind. Until now.
He’s sitting cross-legged at the center of the room, meditating and channeling his cursed energy as he goes through the practiced hand motion of summoning his incomplete innate domain, when the doors slide open and shut. He hears no footsteps enter and assumes someone saw him and decided to train elsewhere to leave him in peace.
That is, until he opens his eyes and is greeted with the sight of ink black cursed marks running across the body of his friend. Sukuna’s smile is wide as he watches Megumi’s expression shift from shocked to guarded.
The young sorcerer immediately rolls backwards and is up on his feet quickly, hands shifting to summon his shikigami. Sukuna continues to watch with something akin to amusement, but the curse doesn’t even move from his position, just pats the spot where Megumi was.
“You react quickly, but if I were out to get you, it wouldn’t be fast enough.”
“How are you out? What did you do to Yuuji?”
Sukuna has the gall to remain unfazed, nonchalant, and shrugs as he once more pats the spot in front of him, urging Megumi to come near and sit within arms reach of someone who was on par with Gojo in power. The curse could even kill him now if he wanted.
“The brat and I just traded places for a bit. He mentioned you were training. I wanted to observe.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it. Though I’d be open to doing more than training.” Megumi feels a shiver run from neck down his spine and stiffens at the insinuation when he sees the way Sukuna’s eyes dilate in interest, facial features zeroing in on the prey before him. Instead of showing outright fear, something Sukuna could probably smell, he tuts and boldly walks back over to ungraciously plop down in a cross position again.
He shoots a look at Sukuna, daring him to say anything. No words need to be said, his approval shines bright in glimmering red eyes. Convincing himself that Sukuna really is just going to sit there and watch him, he closes his eyes again and resumes his meditation.
This goes on for only a minute before Sukuna decides to speak.
It’s not that that startles Megumi. It’s the sudden feeling of having fingertips drawing lines up and down his arms. His skin is covered by the uniform but Sukuna’s touch is heated anyway and it takes everything in him not to flinch away at the delicate gesture.
“You’re channeling your cursed energy from your core to your hands.”
Megumi stiffens once more when he realizes just how close Sukuna is to his body. Sukuna, who has his leg pressed up against the side of his Megumi’s, with a hand planted on the ground behind them, arm against Megumi’s back while the other hand continues to follow the inner flow of cursed energy.
Throughout the entire silent interaction, Megumi remains tight-lipped, even as Sukuna draws his finger from his bicep to where his heart is across his body.
“For a sorcerer like yourself, who relies on pouring cursed energy into your hands to use your technique, it’s what you’ve been taught to do. However, expanding one’s innate domain requires not only a tremendous amount of energy, but also an understanding of energy balance.” Sukuna leans away and then pushes himself to stand on two feet a short distance away so Megumi can fully see him.
“Domain expansions are about projecting who you are as an individual into a technique you control. It requires not only technical and practical knowledge, but most importantly, your sense of self. Now stand up, Megumi.”
Megumi doesn’t know why he’s being so obedient, but he complies with the command and slowly rises to his own feet, mimicking the stance Sukuna has and the way he brings up his hands as if to summon his innate domain.
A small part of him, however, knows that Sukuna won’t drag him in.
“Open your eyes. Follow my cursed energy.” Megumi does as told and feels the way Sukuna’s cursed energy flows away from his core and circulates around his body. It isn’t just channeling into one portion of his body, though there’s a noticeable control on the higher amount he puts into the ends of his very fingers. But what Megumi sees is, well, balance, as the curse said. Every inch of Sukuna’s body has energy steadily flowing. It’s almost pulsing, and there’s so much of it ready to be let out, as if his cursed energy were its own being ready to break free.
When it’s apparent Sukuna is going to maintain the form, Megumi begins to channel his own energy to copy what’s being shown to him. He reaches from the depths of his core, and relaxes his muscles as he allows the energy flow outward, upward, downward. All sorcerers are taught to feel their cursed energy, to manage and channel it. It’s such a fundamental step in being able to do anything really in the jujutsu world, but like all things that come easy, walking, breathing, swimming, it’s so ingrained that it’s a skill that isn’t really focused on for improvement.
This feels different. If he focuses on his own physiology, he can feel the crawl of the cursed energy within him, making sure to keep the flow slow as he spreads the reach across his body. He’s following not just the main flow of where the cursed energy is often released, but makes sure to cover every base.
“Very good, Fushiguro. You learn quickly. Now, hold it.”
Megumi solidifies the flow and begins to grow weary with every new step Sukuna takes towards him. The anxiety peaks when the curse walks past and disappears behind Megumi. He draws in a sharp breath when two hands slide beneath his arms to hold his waist. And then he thinks he stops breathing when he feels Sukuna’s breath fan against his right ear.
“Anyone can learn how to expand their domain. What makes yours incomplete has to do with your sense of self. Who are you, Fushiguro Megumi?”
“I’m. . . me?” His answer sounds pathetic even to his ears so he thinks Sukuna’s disapproving tut is deserved.
“Deeper, blessing. Who are you?” Well, right now, Megumi’s frustrated because he doesn’t understand what’s being asked. And Sukuna’s favoured nickname for him being whispered into his ear so pointedly also isn’t helping. He’s Fushiguro Megumi, the only son of a man who defected from the Zen’in clan. He followed in his father’s footsteps in that sense. He’s a grade two sorcerer who was raised by Gojo Satoru, the younger sibling of a comatose sister. What else is he supposed to say to a question like that?
Who is he?
Something pulls in him. For a moment, he feels like it’s a distant memory that has the answer to the complex question, but it never comes to him, and no amount of wishing for it to appear will allow the unknown something to resurface.
He sighs, and then he slumps his shoulders, breaking the flow of his cursed energy. “I don’t know who I am.” He doesn’t, not really. It’s all details that could be skimmed on a paper, but he doesn’t really even know himself. He has no deeper meanings that define who he is. Most days, he barely feels like a person, simply going through the motions of life, going to school, dealing with spirits and curses, obeying the jujutsu council’s command and his teachers' lessons.
He doesn’t know who he is.
Megumi lets out a surprised noise when Sukuna’s suddenly in front of him, hand wrapped around his jaw and neck to pull closer. The drag to press their bodies together is rough, but the grip is something Megumi could easily get out of if he just pushed Sukuna away.
But he doesn’t move. In fact, he’s frozen and stares right back into those searching crimson eyes.
“You know who you are. You simply don’t remember.”
Sukuna steps away, back turned as he waltzes over to the door of the training room.
“Where are you going?”
“Going to raid your food supply before I have to return this body to the brat.”
It’s the last thing that’s said before the curse is closing the door and departing. In the minute after the exchange is over, his brain and body feel equally tired despite not even physically exerting himself to warrant such exhaustion.
While a shower is tempting to calm down whatever nerves suddenly decided to arise, he quickly roams to the side of the room where his phone is stowed away in his bag, and snatches it up to text the group chat. The one with Yuuji, Nobara, and Gojo, because their teacher is the one who needs to know most that apparently Sukuna is able to just wander free whenever he chooses and Yuuji’s just allowing it.
He doesn’t consider himself a snitch, he’s not. But he wants to confront Yuuji and demand what the hell the teen is thinking to just let Sukuna do what he likes across the place they all live in. And for what? Because the curse is bored ?
He has doubts in Sukuna’s ability to operate a phone since he lived a thousand years back where technology was extremely lacking, so he has no qualms about announcing a meeting in half an hour since he has no idea where any of the people in the chat actually are.
Aside from Yuuji, whose body is probably in the kitchen right now, at Sukuna’s will and command.
Before he goes to seek out Nobara, he musters the courage to have a go at his domain expansion. It’s definitely stronger than before with the careful following of Sukuna’s instruction, but it’s still incomplete, and he knows what the curse said was true.
It wasn’t a problem with his technique.
It was a problem with him not knowing himself.
Annoyance flaring again, he grabs his bag to sling over his shoulder and storms out of the room to put his things away, mentally prepare, and seek out Nobara plus any upperclassmen he may run into on his rampage across the school.
Thirty minutes later, the audience he managed to gather consisted of himself, Nobara, and Yuuji. Most of the upperclassmen were either at the other jujutsu school or on missions. But that was alright. What was important was Gojo’s presence.
They waited ten more minutes before said man decided to finally grace them with his presence.
“My, my, Megumi. Your cursed energy is running low! Wonder what you were doing for training?”
“Not important. What’s important is that Yuuji is letting Sukuna wander around freely.”
Nobara dutifully snaps her neck around to stare at the culprit. “You’re doing what?”
Yuuji at least has the sense to come to his own defense, putting his hands up in the air as he jolts. “Sukuna promised not to hurt anyone though!” Nobara looks just as baffled as Megumi feels. He can’t believe this idiot is taking the King of Curses’ word on the matter of human harm. Before he can scold his friend, Gojo places a heavy hand on both his and Nobara’s heads.
“I do wonder, Yuuji, what you sacrificed to make a deal with Sukuna. Binding vows are no joke, y’know.” For the umpteenth time, Megumi prays Yuuji can read his absolute befuddlement at the new information that keeps pouring out into the open.
Binding vows really aren’t something to be taken lightly. In the first place, they’re known to be done between sorcerers and curses and never for anything good. They were give and take promises. And from someone as deceitful as Sukuna, he wonders what the curse said to trick Yuuji into allowing him freedom to roam around.
“I can’t say.” Gojo hums at that but doesn’t say anything more. Instead, he turns his gaze on Megumi. Even behind the mask, Megumi recognizes the feeling of Gojo looking him up and down. Something the man tended to do when analyzing his ward. It was usually something that happened right before his teacher would criticize something he did wrong in training.
He expects the same now. “Did Sukuna do anything to you, Megumi-chan?” He doesn’t have the mind to even scowl at the nickname because instead of the term of endearment coming to mind, he’s brought back to fourty minutes prior when Sukuna had their bodies touching, hands trailing up and down his body, voice low and full of advice as he guided Megumi towards success.
He knows his classmates don’t see the way he gulps, but Gojo’s eyes are trained on every part of his body. Megumi averts his gaze before he’s aware of it and knows it’s a mistake because Gojo suddenly takes a step closer and Megumi can’t help but feel like a kid when he backs away because his guardian is a confrontational person and has a habit of crowding his space when he wants answers.
“Megumi.” The playful tone is gone now. “Did he do anything?”
“No! He just told me some stuff and helped with my training. That’s it.” Gojo looks at him with disbelief but lets it go, though he knows it’s a matter that they’re going to return to eventually.
It’s no secret that Sukuna has some odd fascination and obsession with him. He doesn’t know why, Gojo doesn’t know why, and Yuuji doesn’t know why. All they know is that, in the months since Sukuna’s become a presence in their lives, the curse tended to use every chance he got to spout some kind of comment of possessiveness for him that was both uncomfortable and scary.
Because what did he do to garner the attention of such a demon?
What started as some interest in Megumi’s being devolved into crass comments about Megumi’s physical appearance, and eventually, sometimes, implications of wanting to take him to bed.
Gojo usually shuts it down pretty fast and then they all move on from the topic while Sukuna rids himself from the conversation as if satisfied he was able to bring annoyance to their group. His radio silence is always welcome.
It’s because of these little interactions that Gojo’s become more protective of him when it came to Sukuna’s involvement. So the reaction is appreciated, but Megumi can take care of himself. He doesn’t need Gojo to fight all his battles, and especially doesn’t want the man’s insistent hovering.
“Fine.”
Turning back around, their teacher takes a step back to survey all of them. “Tell your classmates about this development so they don’t burn down the school battling him if he pops up out of the blue! If it’s true that part of Sukuna’s half of the promise is that he can’t harm others, then wandering around should be alright. It’s probably under a time limit anyway. But, if there’s any problems, you contact me immediately. Understand?” They all give little nods, somewhat miffed at how Gojo can go from peppy to serious in the span of a second. His thoughtful and quiet expressions aren’t ones he shows often, but Megumi’s lived long enough with the man to know when he’s deep in his own head, thinking, planning, worrying.
When the group discussion comes to a close, Nobara immediately launches into a discussion about restaurants their group should visit with Yuuji, who begins to rifle through the kitchen to start on preparing their dinner. Before Gojo can leave, Megumi can’t help but quietly call out to him. A little murmur of Satoru that has the man pausing before he’s gone for the night.
He knows that the second Gojo is alone, he’ll isolate himself in his bedroom and just sit in that stupid chair, the one that Getou crafted with his own hands back when they were both in high school, as friends and something akin to undisclosed lovers. He’d let that loneliness stew, and the worry for all his students to fester until he was left to spiral and everyone would be none the wiser to the strongest’s stormy feelings.
So he feels bad for closing himself off from the man who raised him and mentally beckons him back.
The chatter in the kitchen is high with Nobara and Yuuji being lost in their own world as they smile and laugh. He can see in his peripheral something spill and notes to give them a lecture on keeping their eating area clean later on. Right now he’s supposed to be offering reassurance.
“I’m fine, okay?” Gojo quietly steps back over and gives his hair a light ruffle, resting his palm against the back of his neck. It’s a hold they’re both used to. Megumi never cried growing up, but there were nights when he’d be plagued with nightmares where Tsumiki dies, or a father comes back to give them away to the Zen’in clan. He was never keen on hugs, but he liked the grounding way Gojo would hold his nape, thumb pressing into his scalp and massaging the back of his head.
He wasn’t sure when the gesture became normal, but he knew it was a feeling of comfort on both their ends.
“Suguru. . . always said the same thing, Megumi.”
A sadness washes over the two of them. But whatever sorrow Megumi’s feeling must be a sorrow so hollow and endless for Gojo.
Getou, who was always there with Gojo, and unknowingly, also became a familial figure for himself and Tsumiki. How many birthdays had they all spent together before everything went down the drain? How many of those years of happiness had actually been spent in depression and insanity for Getou while they were all smiling, indulging in their fantasy of what a complete family was like?
How had they not known anything?
Perhaps he chose the wrong words to comfort Gojo.
“I’m fine because you’re here, Satoru. You’re always here, whether I like it or not.” It went unsaid, his gratefulness to the man before him. It’s thanks to his guardian that he even has one to begin with, that he and Tsumiki didn’t grow up with the harsh treatment of the Zen’in family. “And I’m here too. All three of us are.” He makes a motion towards the two destroying their kitchen. “We’ll be the best sorcerers, you know. I’ll probably become stronger than you.” It’s not like him to be teasing or smug, but humour works well when Gojo falls into one of his moods.
True enough, it works like a charm, because the man immediately preps up, gentle hold suddenly turning rough as he’s brought into a head lock that gives Gojo access to aggressive tousling, hands charged with energy to give him the strength to keep Megumi in place.
“Whatever you say, ‘Gumi! We’ll see how strong you are in class tomorrow!” His attention pivots over to the others. “And don’t forget, you two! Morning training at six before class in the morning, okay?” They both groan but nod anyway and go back to screeching as they slam a lid over a bubbling pot. Which is the exact opposite of what they’re supposed to do.
Megumi hurries over to fix their mess.
If he’d been paying attention, he would have seen Sukuna’s piercing gaze directed at the hand rubbing soothingly into Megumi’s neck.
If he’d turned back around to bid his mentor goodbye before rushing away, he would have seen the icy glare as Satoru redirected the look right back to the curse king.