Chapter Text
Two eyes opened.
And then two more.
Like dominoes falling, the movements accelerate.
Eyes and eyes and eyes open, even though they’re not visible to the human eye. Eyes and eyes and eyes are there, watching, but they never appear. For the face of the Vessel can only house four eyes without crumbling to ash, without the enormous weight of Cursed Energy collapsing it all.
Ryōmen Sukuna has awakened, except she’s not the Sukuna from canon. No, she’s something far less human - less humanoid - less person.
Her mouth opens, an endless gaping maw like the yawning abyss, lined with fangs brighter than the moon, and the stars wept.
The Ryōmen Sukuna of the story started off as a sorcerer in the Heian Era. He had killed and maimed so many that, even after his death as a human, he was so feared and reviled that he returned.
He returned as the Imaginary Demon God - where a collective image of fear forms a fully realized Cursed Spirit. He returned and killed and maimed even more, until at some point he was sealed as twenty Cursed Objects - he was sealed into his twenty fingers.
Now imagine that, at some point while sealed as twenty fingers, his Cursed Energy manifested a change; an evolution. Imagine that he lost something that made him Sukuna, and became something more.
Imagine the untold chaos. The horrors. The havoc that he would unleash upon the world that was so blissfully unaware, so unprepared for his incarnation.
Now thank the Heavens that this is not the Ryōmen Sukuna of the story. Thank the Hells. Thank the endless expanse of space. Thank Gege. Thank the author of this story. Thank yourselves.
Because this is not the Ryōmen Sukuna of Jujutsu Kaisen’s story.
Ryōmen Sukuna has awakened, except she’s not the Sukuna from canon. No, she was once a regular person. Maybe less than, even, with issues stemming from mental health and the burnout that was so common in modern society.
Impossibly, she has several sets of memories.
One is a handfuls of decades of an American girl born in the 2000’s, growing up in a broken household, living through the global shut down, barely getting through college, and apparently witnessing a prophecy through reels and shorts and fanfictions of what would be her next existence. Her name is forgotten.
One is a lifetime being hunted down by Sorcerers and human armies alike in the Heian era of Japan, born male with a twin consumed in the womb. Vestiges of his/her brother manifested as Cursed Energy, an extra set of eyes, an extra set of arms, an extra— well, you get it. The Strongest Sorcerer and Curse User, Ryōmen Sukuna.
One is a lifetime of being the hunter in the Heian era of Japan, having evolved to be a Cursed Spirit. The taste of human flesh, the fun of torture. The Imaginary Demon God and King of Curses, Ryōmen Sukuna.
And then there are two as mummified fingers. Passing through the generations twice, being locked and sealed away for times before being stolen or lost. Being devoured by lesser beings, Curses or humans only to survive their exorcisms.
Once being taken by a woman with stitches across her forehead (‘Itadori Kaori,’ or rather, Kenjaku) and sealed into a pink-haired infant.
Once being caught between that same infant’s teeth, though fifteen years later that infant has grown into a teenage boy, then swallowed.
And even now, as she manifests herself alive for the first time in a thousand years (give or take a few centuries), she realizes that she is incomplete. She is missing eighteen pieces of herself, eighteen portions of memories, eighteen slivers of her soul. It is agony. It is emptiness.
And she. Is. Hungry.
It is the empty expanse of space, the yawning abyss that is the event horizon of a black hole. It is the eternal starvation of fire, consuming until all fuel is rendered to ash.
A hand raises. Pale under the moonlight. Pitch black markings lining it, markings that only Curses or Beings such as herself can see (not even the Six Eyes could tell when they emerged), absorbing the light. Nails growing, elongating, darkening with a glossy purple finish, reflecting the white of the moon and stars.
D̵̡̢̛̹̩̖̲̩͔̥͉̟̺̟̘̱̯͗͒̆́͂͋̿̉̈́̒̋̔̐̃̌̒̑̅͆̕I̶̜͇̤̪͔̜̎̈́̅̽̈́͌̏͆̊̀̇̉͌̌̆̓̓̒͑̉͘͜͝S̴̢̡̧̘̼͉͈͖̞̙̥̻̹̣̤̦͖̟̞̈́̌̌͛̑̑̎̈́̉͗̅͘M̷̟̭̰̻̭̻̬͚̩̝̅̓͐͗͒́͑́̉̈̑̚̚̚͘͝͠Ą̵̨̢͎̟̪̭̬̈́̅̈́̽̆̐͆̇̒̔̈́̔̃̉̅̊̀̿̑̅͝Ņ̶̝̱̦̻̹͑̏̓͂̔͊͂͐̃́͋͘͠T̷̨̰̜͇̞̲̺͙̭͚̮̮̹̯͔̖͈͔̱̟͌͌̅̐́̇͗̒̈̔͝ͅL̷̨͖͓͕̔̐̅͋͊͘É̸̢̧̫̗̙̲͇̫̰͇̤̯̼̫͚̹̓̑͗̅͂̈͋̈̔͒̿̇͆̑̕̚͝ͅͅ
Sukuna swipes her clawed hand upwards, and that movement alone is enough to extinguish the life, existence, of a Curse.
Cursed Energy spikes with the exorcism, and Sukuna devours it. Savors it. Absorbs it through her skin, a force not unlike gravity sucking it in. Trillions of sharp teeth tear through the morsel of power, the speck of suffering in a world rife with it.
It’s a taste, her first taste, of what is to come. It’s not very filling, but she takes what she can get.
She wastes not even a whiff of the Cursed Energy, stealing it all, hoarding it all. Cannibalizing it. She watches as it all disappears, as it is all pulled into a nonexistent organ not unlike a stomach, as there is nothing left of the Curse that thought it could have a fraction of her power.
Then, blessed silence.
…
A shuddering gasp breaks the silence.
Slowly, she turned her head. But for all that she moved slowly, the effect was that she had been gazing upon him - Fushiguro Megumi - since she had incarnated.
For all that she was across the roof from him, her hand was now reaching to his head, claws outstretched, Reverse Cursed Energy flaring like a supernova explosion and healing his wounds as fast as a blink.
R̷i̸p̴p̶i̸n̷g̵ ̸h̴i̷s̴ ̶s̶u̵f̵f̷e̶r̸i̵n̸g̴ ̶f̵r̴o̸m̸ ̶h̶i̷m̵—̷
̷
̴D̴e̸s̸t̴r̶o̴y̵i̸n̷g̸ ̶t̴h̶a̶t̷ ̶w̷h̶i̷c̷h̶ ̵h̷a̷s̴ ̵b̸e̶e̴n̴ ̸d̵e̸s̵t̶r̷o̶y̸e̶d̷—̶
̷
̸M̴u̸l̵t̶i̶p̴l̸y̸i̸n̴g̸ ̵t̸w̶o̷ ̷n̴e̶g̷a̷t̴i̴v̵e̸s̶ ̴t̴o̵ ̴m̶a̶k̵e̷ ̴a̵ ̸p̵o̸s̵i̵t̵i̶v̷e̵—̶
Sukuna inhales, breathes in the chill of night air.
Sukuna her mouth to speak, the yawning abyss closing into something that more resembles the mouth of a human.
And then her face is grabbed by a hand that seemed to have been reaching for her throat. Clumsily - a movement made by someone who cannot fully see through eyes that have been temporarily stolen from him.
“What do you think you’re doing with my body? Give it back.” That’s the voice of Itadori Yuuji. Who, all in all, seems less impressed than he is confused.
Sukuna thinks to answer him, but she decides not to. There is too much that’s wrong, far too much.
Instead, she withdraws; steps back, not with her body but with her soul; reaches into where she thinks her Domain should be and grabs the boy by his shoulders to force him to the front.
“Don’t move; you are no longer human!” Fushiguro Megumi puts two fists - one above the other - outwards. “Under Jujutsu regulations, Itadori Yuuji,” shadows begin to coalesce, “I will now exorcise you as a Curse!”
And, ironically, by the time Fushiguro Megumi accused Itadori Yuuji of being a Curse, the tattoos were gone. Meaning that right now, the boy was just about as human as they come.
As if being held at gunpoint, Itadori puts his hands up in surrender.
“What’s the situation?” A man, tall and slim, appeared out of thin air, holding a take-away bag in one hand and his phone in the other, looking like he strolled right out of a photoshoot or a runway… while wearing a blindfold.
“Gojo-Sensei!”
He doesn’t have the look or feel of a teacher, but Itadori wasn’t sure if he could judge in this newly expanded world of magic and monsters.
”Yeah, I wasn’t going to come at first,” the man yawned, bringing a hand to cover his mouth like it was an afterthought. “But the higher-ups got involved after hearing that a special-grade object went missing. I agreed to come as long as they let me go sightseeing. So… did you find it?”
Fushiguro’s face fell flat - as if wondering how he was going to explain the situation.
”Um… sorry, I ate it,” Itadori piped up.
Gojo Satoru turned towards him, smile frozen on his face.
”…For real?”
”For real,” both teenagers said at the same time.
In a blink, Gojo is before Itadori, bent down and leaning forward waayyyy into his personal space.
Um, geez, his lips are like super shiny, are probably not thoughts that Itadori should be having about Fushiguro’s reallypretty teacher, but with how close their faces are he’s kinda surprised he’s able to think at all.
And then Gojo leans forwards even more, and then Itadori really can’t think at all.
”Damn, it really did combine with you,” Gojo laughed, snickering as he pulled back. “That’s hilarious.”
Hilarious?
Is anything about this situation hilarious? Itadori Yuuji thinks he might need someone to explain the joke to him because he really doesn’t get how anything to do with this whole scene is hilarious.
“Anything off with your body?” Gojo asks, deceptively light-heartedly, rocking on his heels without seemingly a care in the world.
“Uh, not particularly,” Itadori answers, flexing an arm just to check. He could’ve sworn he just saw tattoos on it and super long nails on his fingers…
Oh, you can see that?
“Huh? Who are you?”
…Oh. You can… hear me?
“Yeah?” Drawn from one conversation to another, Itadori Yuuji loses focus on the two sorcerers watching him talk to himself. Like a crazy person. Or a possessed person.
Just to be sure, Gojo hands off his take-away bag to Fushiguro and, with one arm, pushes the younger boy behind him protectively.
…you should probably keep talking to Infinite Division.
With the words ’Infinite Division,’ an image of impossibly bright, kaleidoscopic blue eyes is projected into Itadori’s vision, so vivid that it actually has him taking a step back and rubbing at his own eyes. Oddly enough, he also has the idea that there are six of them imposed on his mind.
Is that what that guy’s eyes look like? Then why is he wearing a blindfold? Itadori wondered.
”Oh, right. Sorry, what were you saying?” Itadori focuses back on Gojo, who, as soon as attention was back on him, began… squatting?
“Can you swap out with Sukuna?”
”Sukuna?”
“The Curse you just ate.” The voice in his head?
Come to think about it, there was a presence with the voice in his head, with the person that inhabited his body. It was almost tangible in a way, like he could reach out and touch them, like he could push and pull them into the front.
”Oh… yeah, I think I can do that.”
“Just give us ten seconds. Once ten seconds are up, come back to us.”
”But-“
“Don’t worry, I’m the strongest.” Gojo begins running through various stretches, almost mockingly. Tauntingly. Inviting an ambush, really.
And yet, no ambushes come.
“Megumi, listen! So, I bought these kikufuku from Kikusuian.”
Not a hint of Cursed Energy even.
”They're Sendai’s specialty and they’re super good! It’s not a souvenir, since I’m going to eat it in the bullet train home, but kikufuku isn’t like other deserts.”
Still, no attack. Not even a signal that Sukuna has so much as taken over.
”The whipped cream inside is simply exquisite!”
Suddenly dropping his nonchalant stretching, Gojo turns to face Itadori.
”Wanna try one, King of Curses?”
A direct invitation.
Who am I to deny him?
Two eyes opened.
And then two more.
Like dominoes falling, the movements accelerate.
Eyes and eyes and eyes open, even though they’re not visible to the regular human eye. Eyes and eyes and eyes are there, watching, but they never appear. For the face of the Vessel can only house four eyes without crumbling to ash, without the enormous weight of Cursed Energy collapsing it all.
Six Eyes see the millions of eyes that have opened.
“Only if you’re offering, Infinite Division.”