Chapter Text
What’s that cliche thing people say when they have a near-death experience? Something about their whole life flashing before their eyes?
Yeah, well, that experience may not be universal because the only thing that is on Ryomen’s mind is that he really should have eaten his twin in the womb. Said “wombmate,” — an annoying term coined up by the bane of his existence — is currently screaming for dear life, which given the circumstances is fair.
Even though the first few minutes of his life may have been his most peaceful, when all is said and done, Ryomen does have a soft spot for his little brother. It’s almost poetic that Yuji entered his life crying for shit, because he sure as hell is doing it again as they’re both on death’s door.
Imagine going out because your twin’s crush double dog dared you both to do a trust fall by the cliff. Then your dumbass twin swooned at the schmuck’s smiling face, right as you caught his fat ass. “We were on a cliff,” Ryomen wanted to hiss, but… when you’re hurling down to the ocean, one would tend to go with, “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.”
He can see the obituaries now—
Yuji: Gay as fuck. Caught lacking wanting to impress his crush.
Ryomen: Also gay. Caught lacking, should’ve finished the job in the womb.
Yuji Itadori has died and gone to heaven. Well, no. Actually, he wakes up in hell.
It looks a lot like the DMV.
The line is long, the AC is loud and puffs out hot air, the chairs squeak if you so much as move by a single inch, but the guy on the front desk is otherworldly levels of beautiful. And that’s the thing, though. Everything else here is shitty, and reminds him of administrative failure… but he’ll be damned (pun not intended) if he said that the guy manning the desk doesn’t look like an angel.
Ryomen feels like a fairy princess about to pledge some sorority. He’d been given a silk robe, and is now displayed on a dais, awaiting his “guide.” Is that supposed to be the afterlife version of a big?
Satoru Gojo, as he introduced himself, is an archangel. Now, Ryomen’s always thought angels were beautiful and… well, angelic. What the hell happened to this one then?!
Ryomen is a certified hater, and has been since he could breathe so he can spot an asshole a mile away and this freak rings all the bells.
It takes forever for Yuji to reach the desk. The guy’s got glasses on, barely spares him a glance, and types a code on his ancient pre-Y2K computer. The guy lets out an amused hum before drinking a can of Monster (wow, they have those in hell?!) and casually mentions, “You’re kind of a legend here. Pretty much everyone knew you were gonna wind up here before the final tally.”
Megumi, as read on his nameplate, finally looks at an utterly lost Yuji for more than a second and catches the confused expression.
“Ryomen Sukuna, right?”
Oh.
Is this some sort of hazing ritual?
Ryomen can only watch in disgust when Gojo takes him to a cozy den with a sickass mounted TV and lets makes him watch his little brother’s not-boyfriend-but-almost-kinda-I-guess headass-for crush Junpei sending a prayer for Yuji.
This is repulsive.
While he’s glad to know his brother is loved, or was. He does not need to hear this weirdo’s retelling of their special times together, regrets and — ugh, vomit — wishes to have confessed when he had the chance.
Gojo regards him with an unreadable expression and says, “Look, man. Level with me here. This is heaven. You can have anything you want here.” Oh, that is not a thing one should really be telling Ryomen Sukuna. “I wanna make you happy, because it makes me look good.”
Ryomen scoffs, “You think this fuckass shitface is something I wanna see?”
The archangel is distraught. “You’re in love with this guy, right? Yuji, I read your file before you came up here.”
Oh.