Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

How long had it been since Gojo-sensei’s death? A day? A month? A year? Yuji had lost track. But finally, Shinjuku had fallen silent. They had won. There, only 10 meters ahead laid Fushiguro, unconscious, but alive. Yuji could see the slight rise and fall of his chest, his long lashes brushing against his cheek, he looked peaceful. Like this nightmare had never happened, like Sukuna hadn’t stolen his body and killed countless people with it.

And between them pay the monster in question. Sukuna himself, now only a puddle on the ground. Pathetic and weak. Yuji knew he should kill him; it would only take one more hit. But then he’d be alone. With the death of Gojo, someone else had to step up as the strongest, as more than human, as a monster. Of course it wasn’t just him, Okkotsu-senpai and Maki-senpai both shed vast portions of their humanity in order to become strong enough to face Sukuna, but, it wasn’t fair, they had each other. He wasn’t stupid, he had seen how they looked at each other. He couldn’t help but feel alone.

He was so selfish. Fushiguro was seemingly unharmed, and Kugisaki was clearly alive from the spike attack earlier. But it wasn’t enough, he wanted someone who understood. And he was so tired. 

And so, he offered a hand in peace to the one enemy he thought he’d never forgive.

Chapter Text

“You are me. We’re born into this world unconsciously shouldering curses. What sort of monster you turn into is entirely decided by luck. And I had my gramps. Sukuna, let’s try one more time. Living not by cursing someone, but by existing alongside them. Even if no one else will accept you…

… I’ll live with you.”

And with a brilliant flash, the world fell silent.

………………………..

Ow, holy shit! Everything hurt. His ears rang and his brain buzzed and pressed against his skull, like a hive of angry bees. Yuji tried to rub his eyes but his hands were tied behind him. Instead, he settled for blinking the dots away from his vision. He stared, then blinked again. Clearly his vision was impaired if he was seeing Principal Yaga in front of him. He closed his eyes and shook his head to maybe shake off the hallucination, which only worsened the pounding in his head. 

Nope, he was still there.

Fuck.

Yuji only knew one way the dead could walk again, Kenjaku. That would suck, to say the least. As awful as the battles in Shinjuku had been and as much as he hated Sukuna, it was the cold, calculated cruelty for Kenjaku’s culling game that caused fear and disgust to slither up his spine. He steeled himself to look at Yaga’s head, and, oh, nothing. His forehead was clear except for a few wrinkles. Yuji released the breath he’d been holding. But, if not Kenjaku, then how else could Yaga-san appear before him? He was very much dead, not like Kugisaki’s probably dead, or Fushiguro’s mostly dead, Yaga-san was dead dead. So, how could he be here?

Unless, “I’m dead. He killed me! That bitc-”

“Mind your tongue before I tear it out, brat!” Growled a voice from his cheek, the muscles bending awkwardly around the additional mouth. Speaking of annoying headaches, his head had a roommate again. He hoped he wasn’t dead, that would be cruel and unusual punishment. He had done nothing, well, okay not nothing, but nothing super wrong in life to deserve this. 

“What the hell is that?!” Demanded Yaga-san, who had grown incredibly pale at the appearance of Sukuna’s mouth. The office chair he had been sitting in had wheeled back several inches. 

“It’s- uh-” Yuji floundered, trying to gesture but failing because of the binds around his wrists. The chair he was in was sturdy and fairly comfortable, but that didn't change the fact that he was completely immobile with his legs also bound to the chair.

“It’s- you know, Sukuna? Remember, vessel, parasite? Why am I bound? It’s me, Itadori! Yaga-san?”

“Yeah Yaga-san, remember us?” Sukuna mockingly called out. The casual tone didn’t fully obscure the buzz of confusion Yuji felt from what he had dubbed ‘Sukuna’s side of the soul’. It had been a long time since he had felt Sukuna’s soul so closely entwined with his, but he was pretty sure the empathy part was new. He hoped Sukuna couldn’t read his emotions the same way.

“Sukuna? Like, imaginary four-armed god Ryomen Sukuna? That Sukuna?!”

“Uh, yeah? You knew that though, remember?” Yuji asked.

“No! I have no idea what you’re talking about, and I have never seen you before! I- shit! How is he, inside you?” Something was deeply wrong. He was so stupid! Yuji should’ve known the second he woke up bound in front of Yaga-san that this wasn’t the Yaga-san he knew. But noooooo, he had to tell him about Sukuna too. That was not a way to make people trust you, he would know. Yuji closed his eyes and thought. Yaga-san's shock seemed genuine, meaning he truly didn’t know about Sukuna. He thought all of Japan knew of him at this point. Especially the sorcerers. Nope, not dealing with that now. That could go into the same compartment as Yaga-san's return for the dead. It was future-Yuji’s problem. For now, he would just try to gain other-Yaga’s trust. Maybe try to gather information. His plan of action decided, Yuji opened his eyes, ready to face the inevitable interrogation.

“I’m a perfect vessel. With Sukuna contained in me, he cannot incarnate without me letting him first. He is not a danger to anyone like this.” His speech came out stilted like he was reading from a textbook. It felt wrong to call Sukuna harmless, even when contained like this, but what else could he say? ‘I know he levelled Shibuya but just give me another chance?’ No. If he wanted any chance of getting out of this room, he’d have to play along. And, also if other-Yaga had any idea of the state of Japan, he’d call him out of the obvious lie. Anyone with access to the news knew of the destruction he and Sukuna had caused, even if they didn't catch Sukuna’s name, the pink hair would rouse suspicion. See? Take that Kugisaki! He could scheme!

“Hmmmmmmm.” Yaga-san sighed, tilted his head back and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Let’s assume I believe you for now. That doesn’t answer why you’re here and why you have this” He said, pulling out Yuji’s Student ID. “Impersonating a Jujutsu Tech sorcerer is a punishable offense.” 

“I’m not impersonating. I am Yuji Itadori. I am 16 years old, a grade 4 sorcerer, and a first year at the Tokyo branch of Jujutsu Tech.” Was he in a parallel dimension? Other-Yaga clearly knew a lot about Jujutsu Tech, yet he seemed totally unaware of the collapse of Jujutsu society.

“Look, kid, you’re not fooling anyone. This card is an obvious fake, the formatting’s wrong, the colors are off, and it says you were born in 2003, which is clearly not right. Even if it was convincing, I’m a teacher here, if you were a first year I would’ve known.” Ya know, Yaga-san looked younger. At first Yuji thought it was the haircut and lack of glasses, but maybe, no. It couldn't be, right? But, what if.

“I was born in 2003, 16 years ago. I am 16. The formatting and coloring are standard and matches my classmates, and you are not a teacher at Jujutsu Tech, you are the principal.”

What if it was time travel?

Chapter Text

Yaga Masamichi was tired. The term was finally over, and he had earned his break goddamnit! One glorious week without the three hellions he called students. He was going to spar with his son Panda and make that strange pasta dish he saw in a magazine and finally finish reading his book. Emphasis on the past tense though. Of course, his most troublesome student, Satoru, managed to crush his dreams even as he was leaving campus. And now, he was left babysitting an unconscious boy in his office.

He had just waved goodbye to Satoru, Suguru and Ieiri having left much earlier in the day, and was sitting down to finish up his paperwork, and lord almighty there was always so much paperwork. Suddenly Satoru careened back into the class, nearly barreling through the thin wooden door, shouting about a sleeping teenager at the school’s entrance. Just like that, paperwork scattered, and dreams crushed.

By the time Masamichi got to the boy, he would not be sprinting like his student, thank you very much, it became abundantly clear he was just that, a boy. He was covered in scars, and was he missing a finger? Everything looked healed over it was hard to tell. Anything could’ve been hidden behind his thick clothes. He would know. The material was incredibly similar to what his students wore, sturdy and dark to protect and cover up blood and cursed spirit juices. The boy was alive, his chest softly rising and falling. 

Masamichi bent down to pick up the boy and as soon as his hands brushed the fabric of his jacket, he knew something was wrong. He hadn’t noticed it while looking over the boy, but his clothes were tacky and damp. His hand came away red. Blood. He picked up the boy and started speed walking to the infirmary, trying not to let his worry show on his face. Satoru clearly hadn’t noticed that something was off, he was in his own world chattering about potential new students and who knows what else. Masamichi’s grip started to slip, he adjusted. His focus was solely on getting help.

Satoru picked up a card that had fallen from the boy when he was jostled. “No fair! How come he gets a special ID! He’s just some 4th grade nobody!” He whined.

Masamichi paused, ID? He took the card for Satoru. It was a Jujutsu Tech Student ID, but it was clearly fake. There was a photo of the boy, looking younger and happier, and a name, Itadori Yuji, but everything else was off. The formatting was wrong, and the color scheme was different. But the most glaring issue was the date of birth, stating that Yuji was born in 2003. The boy- Itadori, had clearly been born what, the 90’s? He was probably the same age as Satoru. The fact that Satoru hadn’t caught the fact it was fake was worrying, that boy could be so oblivious once his ego got involved. Masamichi sighed, that would be a problem for future him. 

“It’s fake.” His walking slowed as he realized he couldn’t bring Itadori to the infirmary. “It’s damning evidence. The council will want to talk to him as soon as possible.”

“You mean interrogate.” Satoru gave him a look. Yeah, he was right, interrogate was probably a better word.

“He got through the barrier without triggering any alarms. They’ll want to know how.”

“They’ll kill him, won’t they. He’s an unknown, appears to be a spy of some kind, and looking at his face, he’s got a lot of field experience. It won’t matter who he is or what he’s doing. He’s a threat.”

“That is a strong possibility, yeah.” Masamichi stopped walking. “I’ll keep him in my office until he wakes up. If he’s a threat, I’ll dispose of him. If he doesn’t mean harm, then we can get him back on his feet without bringing in the council.” He said, turning on his heel towards the private teacher’s quarters. “You would need to keep this between us though.” He turned to Satoru. 

“Lying to the old geezers? Count me in!” Satoru grinned.

“Goddamnit! This is serious Satoru. I need you to keep this between us. No telling Suguru, no telling Ieiri, nothing. Don’t even speak it aloud. Enjoy your week, I’ll call you into my office when we get back to tell you the verdict.”

…………………………

It was approaching day three since Itadori was tied up to a chair in his office. His outer jacket had been removed and luckily, most of the blood went with it. Masamichi was getting worried. He really should’ve woken up by now. But he was getting closer to waking, slowly. Masamichi’s cursed technique allowed him to see glimpses of the soul. It’s what made him so good at creating cursed corpses. The boy’s soul had been getting brighter and more active, though interestingly it seemed almost like there was a second soul, being smothered by the first. He closed his eyes and leaned back, head resting on the edge of the chair. Using his technique hurt, especially if he was looking at sentient souls. 

A soft moan pulled him from his self-induced misery. It appeared the boy was waking up.

………………………

What the fuck, what the actual fuck was that. His face just, split open. That must’ve been the second soul manifesting. And the boy seemed, alright with that?! What Masamichi had thought was a scar underneath his eye was actually another eye?! He had been a sorcerer for a long time but that was creepy. Again, what the fuck?!

“It’s- ya know, Sukuna…” The rest of what the boy said faded away. Sukuna? They weren’t thinking of the same Sukuna surely?

“Yeah Yaga-san, remember us” The voice, shit, Sukuna said. That was Ryomen Sukuna, speaking to him, from a teenager’s cheek, and they weren’t dead.

Masamichi could feel when his perception of the world shifted. It was this moment of sure, why wouldn’t that be true? The teenager in front of him was in control of a feared imaginary god? Yeah, why not. The kid seemed to know him? Yeah sure, maybe he has a long-lost twin he’s being mistaken for. That sounds reasonable. Hell, maybe his ID wasn’t fake, and he was a student from a secret hidden sect of Jujutsu society. That sounded possible! 

He had to calm down. Breathe in… and out. He was a teacher, and he had a duty to protect his students. That included figuring out if this unknown was a threat or not. Any existential crisis could wait. He could come back to Sukuna later; he clearly wasn’t going anywhere. Continue to question, don’t let anyone know how rattled he is.

“I was born in 2003, 16 years ago. I am 16. The formatting and coloring are standard and matches my classmates, and you are not a teacher at Jujutsu Tech, you are the principal.” 

Masamichi felt a little faint. It was 2006. Itadori was claiming to be from uh, 2018? 2019? Sometime in there. Yeah? Sure? Why not? 

He hated that time travel had become a possibility.

Chapter Text

What if it was time travel?

…………………………

When he had woken up and saw his formerly dead principal, Yuji really thought he had considered every situation. He listened to the Fushiguro in his head and kept his cards close-ish to his chest. Sukuna loudly berating him had really not helped and Yuji suspected that was on purpose. But ya know, he tried? He tried to gauge the not-Yaga's responses to see what was going on. But what was the point if it was time travel? Fuck! He was just fate’s punching bag wasn’t he. Forget it, no more plans or schemes, if this was the Yaga-san he knew, even if he were a younger version, Yuji could trust him. Besides, blindly following his gut had got him this far and look where thinking had landed Fushiguro, stuck with Sukuna. He ignored the internal voice in his head that said being impulsive had gotten Sukuna trapped in him twice now.

“I think I’m from the future?” Yuji said, his voice rising in the end like it was a question. He started rambling, “It makes sense, right? The last I checked, it was 2019 and from your reaction, you don’t think it’s anywhere near 2019. So, one of us must be wrong. And I’m the one who woke up tied up in a chair in an unknown location so I’m assuming it’s me who's wrong. Also, I was pretty sure, scratch that, very sure you were dead, so I know I didn’t just misread the calendar or something.”

“I-” Yaga started to say but paused. Yuji kept rolling with his explanation, words tumbling out now that he had a theory. 

“I mean, I’ve seen some crazy cursed techniques. Tengen-sama’s barrier, Gojo-sensei can fly, hell Ui-Ui can move around souls. So, time travel isn’t outside the realm of possibilities.”

Yaga-san sighed and as he let the breath out, it was like his sense of joy and wonder had left with it. “I don’t want to believe you. Time travel is the most bullshit thing I’ve ever heard of. Yes, some techniques seem to break reality but time? But you make a good point. Assuming you aren’t lying or crazy, that doesn’t leave me with many other explanations. You’re spinning a fantastical tale that not only are you a student from the future, you’re also in control of Ryomen Sukuna. Prove it.”

Yuji blinked. Prove it? How? Wait, he had some stuff in his pockets, maybe? His ID card wouldn’t work; Yaga-san had assumed it was fake. What else did he have in there, some coins, a couple of old bandages, his phone? No, he remembered it falling out of his pocket and getting shredded during the battle. Sukuna had shredded most of the things he had on him actually. Wait, there was one thing. “The back of my jacket has a hidden pocket.” It had been made to store the few precious things he didn’t want to face the direct onslaught of Cleave. “In it, there should be a photo.” It was a polaroid that Kugisaki had bugged Miwa into taking after the exchange event. It was their whole class, both years, plus Gojo-sensei and Yaga-san. Most importantly though, it showed Panda, who, if Yuji was remembering correctly, was Yaga-san’s son, and if he was lucky, really lucky, he had already been created. 

“Why is the photo on your back? That makes no sense. You know I’m not going to untie you just to get access to your jacket, right.”

Shit, he was right. The way he’d been tied up, the pocket was trapped between him and the chair. “You, you can cut it off of me. Just, be careful. Please.” That was the jacket Gojo-sensei commissioned for him. It was the last uniform he had left; the others had been ripped to shreds. He wanted to cry. But that photo was the best evidence he had that he was from the future and he was a student. 

Yaga knelt behind him with a pair of fabric shears. Yuji could hear the soft snip as it cut through the last gift Gojo-sensei had given him. Occasionally, Yaga-san would tug him around to get better access to the fabric. Yuji followed his lead passively. 

It was suddenly real. Yeah sure, he’d started to accept he was probably out of his place in time, but between the interrogation and the confusion, it hadn’t really sunk in. Now, in the quiet, Yuji had the chance to process. He was in the past, the past. Everyone he knew was dead. He would never train Cleave with Yuta-senpai again. Todo would never regale him with stories about their lives together that were definitely not true, but Yuji just didn’t know how to tell him that. He would never cook in the early morning with Maki when he couldn’t sleep and her burns kept her up. Never go shopping with Kugisaki, never bother Fushiguro, he even missed Mei Mei’s dry tone, even though she was definitely a creep. But, at the same time, everyone he knew was alive. He had never destroyed Shibuya. Gojo hadn’t been sealed. Junpei, God, Junpei was alive. 

But so was Kenjaku. And Yuji had no idea where he was. Hell, he didn't even know the year. If he was lucky, Kenjaku was still in his mother’s body. A known target and a known location. But Yuji knew, deep down, it wouldn’t be that simple. Mahito might not have yet formed but Yuji didn’t know. He was back at square one, right where they’d been before Shibuya, but with fewer allies and no backup. If he was allowed to go free, what would he even do? He had no job, no identity, no idea of where to go next.

He was alone, so painfully alone.

A mad laugh filled his head. Right, he wasn’t alone, he had Sukuna. Maybe being alone would’ve been alright. He cursed his previous self for giving that bastard another chance. What the hell had he been thinking, oh you are me, I’ll live with you. He must’ve gone temporarily insane, nothing else made sense. 

The snipping stopped. The back panel of the jacket had been cut free. Yaga-san carefully pulled it up and away from Yuji. Despite the gravity of the situation, Yuji had to hold back a snort. He felt so stupid wearing just the sleeves of the jacket, like an inverted vest. Yaga gave him a look. Oops, he hadn’t held it back enough.

“So? Proof enough for ya?”

“Give me a minute, I have to find the pocket.” Yaga was messing with the thick fabric, rolling it between his fingers to search for hidden layers. Yuji appreciated the care he put in to not crumple the photo accidentally. Finally, he found it and unclipped the hidden clasp. Yuji had remembered how impressed he was by the craftsmanship. Ui-Ui had made it after they had all come back to their original bodies. That kid was weird, kind, but weird. He’d tried to give him people outside of Mei Mei to rely on, but eugh, that child was obsessed. 

Yaga softly gasped. “Is that-?”

“Our school. The third years had been suspended so it was just the first and second years. We had just finished the sister school exchange event”

“Who is the panda?” Yaga-san asked, voice thick with emotions. It was a valiant effort to appear nonchalant, but Yuji knew.

“That’s Panda-senpai. He’s in his second year. But I suspect you already know him. In case you don’t, there’s you in the corner. I told you; I’m a student from the future.”

Yaga’s gaze tore away from Panda-senpai. “I look old.”

“To me, you look young. Yaga-san, what year is it?”

“It’s 2006.” He stated absently. “You’re really from the future.”  He set down the photo, looking Yuji in the eye. “Explain everything”