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Everyone assumes the split second of his silence to be hesitation. And that would be mostly correct, especially when the hesitation is merely a mirror of the sudden realization rearing within him. It cuts at him slowly, but he has always been good at not making it surface and bleeding immediately.
This is war. He reminds himself. This is war and you must use everything in your arsenal to win. Be it steel, be it fire, be it bones and flesh and blood. They are going to battle a king and even that King of Curses has also acquired his own new weaponry in the form of shadows. (A stolen possession, a stolen valor of his friend). All is fair in love and war, as they say, something Yuuji remembers from those movies with their charming thespians and daredevil crookeries.
He looks down at his hand again. His left hand. The one mangled with its missing finger. A reminder, a failure, a resolve all wrapped in that empty space. Now he’s going to part with another one, and the voice that is much too similar familiar whispers in his head. It’s low, not seething, yet existing and persisting.
“Yuuji,” Gojo-sensei’s voice cuts through the fog, “are you ready?”
“Yeah,” he nods and when sensei turns to head to the basement, he follows, “Yeah, I’m ready.”
===
Yuuta mentioned it one very early dawn. They were sitting on the rooftop, bodies still smarting from the things Gojo ran them through in training even with Shoko’s healing. He caught Yuuta staring at it.
“Does it still hurt?”
“No,” Yuuji replied and they both know it merely meant one definition of it.
“Any phantom pain? I, I heard that could happen,” Yuuta murmurs, unsure, knees folded and he rested his arms on top of them.
Yuuji is never good at lying, so he answered truthfully. “Sometimes.”
He tried not to think about it. That often led to undue places. He just couldn’t. It wasn’t afforded for him; he wouldn’t allow himself that.
“Maybe,” Yuuta hummed and leaned forward, a bit closer to him, a bit closer that Yuuji could see the depth of those eyes which spiked fear and turned his heartbeats stuttering. It was familiar by then, and Yuuji has always been good at adapting. He calmed himself and let Yuuta continue, “when this is all over, we could ask Ieri-san to make prosthetic,” he rubbed his chin, “it might help, I think,” he murmured, “I hope.”
“It sounds good,” Yuuji crosses his legs, “I might do that.”
Yuuta smiled and it felt just like his word. Hopeful.
===
He sits down on a ruined slab of concrete. It’s cold and dusty. As he waits for Gojo-sensei and Yuuta, he traces his hand again. A part of Sukuna will always remain, the very being of such entity forever grafted into him. A scab, a scar on the soul and flesh and bone. (Not blood, that belongs to Choso and his brothers. The ones who won’t ever see the light of day, the ones who would be within every drop of his blood). He fists his hand.
It is a form of a curse.
And he’s fine with such revelation on himself.
Yet now, suddenly, it isn’t as easy as Yuuji thinks.
Footsteps are coming closer and when he looks up, he sees Yuuta, walking just a tad behind of Gojo-sensei.
“Yuuji,” Gojo smiles and has his hands in his pocket, “Decided yet which finger it is?” His tone is light. It doesn’t manage to hide the tension still apparent in the set of his jaw and how his eyes are blank and focused.
He would need to give more output in his left hand from now on, matching the same strength his right one would give. There are three important fingers that determine most of this – and at least, in this, Yuuji can choose. That’s grace, that’s mercy in and of itself.
Yuuta is arriving at where Yuuji stands as he nods.
“Yeah,” he slightly lifts his left hand, “my ring finger.”
When Yuuta freezes and his eyes widen, Yuuji doesn’t quiet get why. Guilt perhaps. Or discomfort. But Yuuta never wavers in the grand scheme of a sacrifice, he always understands, always willing to take the means and burden which demands. Yuuta is a great sorcerer like that. Someone dutiful, someone trusted most of all by Gojo-sensei himself. Then, maybe – he senses Yuuji’s own already.
“I’m sorry,” Yuuta says, eyes struggling not to look downcast instead of looking at him. To keep responsibility. “I’ll be gentle,” he swears.
That… that won’t do.
This is a mutilation which Itadori Yuuji has the ability to allow. This is a cutting of his body part which he consciously, willingly would give. And to save Fushiguro, and for Yuuta’s need to be better in this battle they all find themselves in – Yuuji is much more than willing.
“Senpai,” he holds the calloused hand holding and tracing his ring finger. It’s careful, soft and, dare Yuuji says it, forlorn. “It’s alright, I already thought about it long and well.”
Yuuta purses his lips still. “But it’s your ring finger.”
At that, Yuuji glances to the simple, beautiful band of ring around Yuuta’s own. It sends something warm down Yuuji’s chest. A touching, touching thought. Really, it is. Someone does think of a future for him.
“I wasn’t meant to live a long life, senpai,” Yuuji unwraps Yuuta’s hand from his wrist. “Not like I could find someone and settle down, you know,” he shrugs.
“Yes, but…”
Yuuji smiles. “It’s alright,” he says. “This is more important and I am ready.”
Somehow, it doean’t melt the frown off his face. Yuuta just keeps teetering and he’s staring holes into a faraway point.
“Yuuta.”
It’s Gojo-sensei.
And Yuuta blinks.
“I know you mean well to your kouhai, but let’s respect Yuuji’s choice, hm?”
At that Yuuta ducks his head. And it takes a second but Yuuju notices the subtle flush on his cheeks. It melts the hardness Yuuta just bore.
“Sorry, sensei,” Yuuta winces and he takes a deep breath. “Sorry, Yuuji. You’re right, you’re right. I was…” He shakes his head. When he opens his eyes, they’re clear. Yuuji likes it when they shine a bit brighter. “Are you ready?”
“I’m ready.” He extends his arm.
Yuuta holds his wrist again. “I’ll be gentle,” he repeats.
There is no knife, only the exposed part of his katana as he lifts it. A long sting, a crack of separated bone, and blood drops, then withon an inhale, he watches Yuuta opens his lips. And his finger is welcomed by a sweet kiss, an open embrace of red tongue, before being closed within a warm mouth.
Oh, Yuuji realizes, there is no Rika to eat it at all.
It’s not messy, it’s not cruel. The way Yuuta consumes his finger that is. What exists is only something close to a carefulness, something in the way Yuuta cups his hands over his consumation that has Yuuji feeling the caress. Blood drips down in thin rivulets down Yuuta’s wrists and staining the hem of his T-shirt, they also drip down the corners of his lips and Yuuji sometimes forgets how thick yet flowy blood is that Yuuta’s lips are painted with red as he finally keeps the whole finger swallowed down slender throat that sends shivers down Yuuji’s back.
Yuuta sighs when it finally settles inside. Turning slightly away, he dabs his chin and it merely smears the blood to cover his lips more. The cuticles and underside of his nails are reddened now too. He gasps, cursed energy swirling and eventually, fortunately – much to Yuuji’s own exhale – steadying.
Scarlet suits him, Yuuji distantly muses and he catches himself for that.
He shouldn’t.
Yuuta just consumed something cursed, after all. Something that he needn’t to were things happened differently. Yet he does, he just ate a finger of his.
(Would it graft itself onto him too? Would it meld and settle, despite of it all, well in his stomach?)
This is war. All is fair in love and war. In love…
Yuuji shakes his head, he slightly digs into his fresh stump to keep the thoughts away.
Then, Gojo-sensei claps once and the spell’s broken.
“Everything’s alright, then?” He offers a handkerchief.
Yuuji doesn’t catch the wink and grin he gives Yuuta, but he sees Yuuta floundering and yes, that is a blush on his face now.
“Yeah, I mean, yes,” Yuuta takes the handkerchief but he doesn’t use it on himself.
Instead, he quickly stems the bleeding stump and as familiar as knowing one’s own skin, Yuuji senses the flow of energy to close the fresh wound. Its hum is almost lulling and he can still smell the coppery tang from around him, from his own sticky hand, from Yuuta’s lips and breath.
“Are you alright, Itadori-kun?”
His finger is inside him, a part of his is inside. Is it warm? He hopes it can be warm for him at least. A cursed thing which Yuuta could use into something else, somsthing better.
“I’m good,” Yuuji manages to reply. “Are you, senpai?” Because his cheeks are still flushed and his irises are wide.
But Yuuta just nods and he focuses on closing the exposed bone and meat that had been his ring finger.
“We’ll get you prosthetics,” Yuuta murmurs.
That has Yuuji chuckling. Remembering.
Later. They can do it much, much later.
“Do you want to go with me if I can, senpai?”
His mouth moves on its own.
Yuuta straightens. Brightens. A spike in his healing. Almost a jolt that feels nice down Yuuji’s arm to his toes.
“Of course.”
And Yuuta is smiling. It’s always a sight to see. The corners of his eyes crinkle, his smile is bit tilted and it’s soft. The blood is drying yet it is still a bit damp. Glistening against the teeth peeking between lips, the same shade inside out.
Gojo claps once again.
“Well, everything went smooth, didn it?” He pats Yuuta’s back and ruffles Yuuji’s hair. “I knew you both could do it. Now, as much as I would rather take things slowly, you, Yuuta,” he points to him, “is going straight back to training. Your cursed energy,” he sniffs the air, “is yet to be perfect, it seems.”
That has Yuuta wincing and wilting. Ah, his poor senpai. He releases Yuuji’s hand and marches away quietly. Not before he waves at Yuuji though, while finally using more than just his arm to wipe the blood off, Gojo-sensei has tossed wet wipes at least.
“And for you, Yuuji,” Gojo grins and he tilts his head. Amusement is a rare look on sensei’s face lately, after all.
“Yes, sensei?”
“Let’s not give any more finger to be eaten, okay?” Gojo wags his finger. “Or someone is going to be a little overwhelmed because they’re a lover at heart.”
“I thought one was all we needed,” Yuuji tilts his head. “Is it not enough yet?”
Gojo-sensei shakes his head and he’s just smiling. The amusement giving way to… an expression. Which Yuuji doesn’t quite understand.
“Nevermind,” Gojo-sensei brushes it off. “It’s just a joke.”
Is it?
But then, Gojo guides him out of the basement and Yuuji doesn’t ponder anymore.
===
In a corner by the end of the hallway, Yuuji looks at his hand. The second empty space is becoming familiar, becoming a fact that stays. Yet it isn’t loss, isn’t some failure he did once more.Yuuta’s mien and cupped hands reflects back in his mind. The half-lidded eyes as he raised the finger into his mouth, the finalizing gulp of his throat, the warmth from his inside welcomed him. Slowly, Yuuji places the fresh stump against his own chapped lips and leans forward, tasting the saltiness of skin and of combined sweats.
The phantom pain remains, though weaker and less harsh than the first.
It does not hurt.