Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He noticed it the moment he first woke. It happened at once, with no preamble or trickle of warning. He was asleep, dead for all intents and purposes, and then he was not. Then he was in the body of his vessel, his spirit thrumming with the rush of cursed energy and adrenaline over, at last, possessing a physical body. 

A body which was not at all normal. 

The same strength, the same power, the same energy, though at the time unrealized, coursed through his vessel’s veins. More than what would be possible by having ingested just one finger– more than what would be possible from ingesting them all. This was something intrinsic, something he was born with that stretched beyond curses and sorcery.

Something related to Sukuna.

But, at that moment, he did not have time to linger on it, face to face with a new era of jujutsu. With one Six-Eyes and Limitless user.

It wasn’t until said user had knocked his wayward vessel out that Sukuna was able to truly assess what had happened here.

Summoning his innate domain, he pulled the boy in, finding the manifestation of his soul asleep and curled in a fetal position amidst the bloody pools and cracked skulls. 

Yuuji Itadori.

Such a worthless little thing. 

Sukuna chuckled, approaching his defiant vessel. He slept like the dead for reasons beyond being knocked out, Sukuna surmised as he sifted through the boy’s memories. One showed itself to contextualize the scene before him: A teenage boy passed out in his bed, groaning as his alarm sounded for school and looking no different than the boy passed out here. Truly, he was by all means unassuming like this, bathed in youth and basking in ignorance. 

“So,” Sukuna said, sitting with his arms resting upon his knees as he beheld his vessel. “What is it about you that makes you so special? That makes you able to withstand me? ”

His voice was harsh, but he wasn’t truly upset. Yuuji was a hindrance, for certain, and already got on his nerves. But that layer of intrigue to him was what kept Sukuna from ripping his heart out of his chest.

For now. 

Despite his life having been relatively plain, Yuuji was undeniably strong– inhumanely so. But he was born with such little cursed energy, he never knew of jujutsu, so how could he be so– so–

Another memory washed over Sukuna, hazy and rippled like looking into a river’s reflection. It was a distant memory, when his vessel was no more than three, looking at a picture his grandfather had accidentally left out. It was of his mother and father; that much was apparent by the pink-haired, pink-faced babe in their arms. The boy stared at it, seemingly figuring out the same thing, and cooed at his parents. What little Yuuji did not notice– but what Sukuna did – was the line across his mother’s forehead. Stitch marks.

Kenjaku.

Sukuna seethed.

No wonder. No, of course. He cackled mirthlessly, rising to his feet.

Kenjaku had been in possession of Sukuna’s fingers after he’d turned into a cursed object, something the body-stealer had urged him towards for years before he finally acquiesced. It seemed the bastard had done so with this very plan in mind: to create Yuuji Itadori.

To create the perfect vessel, the only one who could withstand Ryomen Sukuna. Perhaps, he thought distantly, a bit too much. 

He clenched his teeth, his hands shaking.

It all made sense now.

Kenjaku had planned this from the very beginning, some millennia ago. Although Sukuna had never revealed such information to anyone— not even Uraume— they’d found out about his twin. The one whom he’d consumed in utero, the one who’s wandering soul had somehow found its way into this era. And Kenjaku had subsequently found him and from that produced Yuuji.

Sukuna settled.

His gaze turned to the boy once more, still blissfully asleep and unaware.

Do you know what you are?

You’re not only the holder of a curse, but the son of a curse user as well. How charming.

Kenjaku wanted to meddle in his affairs? So be it then. It wasn’t as if he had a particular care for his family. If his vessel was the son of his reincarnated twin— if he was his nephew — that made no difference to Sukuna. Despite his heritage, he was weak, a drop of water in comparison to the raging maelstrom of Sukuna’s might. Eventually, that strong will of his would falter, and Sukuna would bask in the glory of his fully realized rebirth.

Until then— he thought as he watched Yuuji stir to wakefulness— he’d be content to see where his supposed nephew led them.

He and the brat did not speak very often. The first few nights, Sukuna would summon an eye and mouth on the boy’s cheek, murmuring disturbances into his ear for hours on end. He had done so out of curiosity— his vessel could get frustrated, sure, but he’d never seen true anger flare out of him. Yuuji, of course, was undeterred by Sukuna’s intonations, his state of sleep comparable to that of a coma. 

“You’re no fun,” he grumbled on his last attempt to rouse something out of the brat. Truthfully, however, Sukuna couldn’t find it in himself to be annoyed by this. Yuuji’s sorcery was weak, but at the very least his mind and soul were strong. Not a total disappointment.

Perhaps something miraculous could come of him.

His mouth and eye faded from the boy’s cheek as Sukuna returned to his domain to ruminate. 

Much to his chagrin, the manifestation of Yuuji’s soul was sleeping in the same bloody pool surrounding Sukuna’s throne. 

For whatever reason, it had come here to rest, despite Sukuna not having drawn it in. Certainly it couldn’t have been intentional, but that almost made things worse.

How could he sleep so peacefully— chest rising and falling, mouth slightly parted and dripping with drool— in the garden of the King of Curses?

“What to do with you…” Sukuna murmured, bracing his jaw on his fist.

What to do with this whole situation, in all honesty. It was rare for Sukuna to be backed into a corner, unable to do as he pleased. At the moment Yuuji prevented him from doing so, but behind the scenes, and more pressingly, it was Kenjaku who held the strings.

Just what body does that parasite possess now? 

And how easily could he convince the boy to let him tear them apart?

Sukuna sighed. A mess of affairs, and it seemed he and Yuuji were at the center of it. There was no escaping this, and no charging head first with Shrine and Divine Flame at his full disposal. It seemed he’d have to sit back and wait for the opportune moment. 

He shook his head, leaning back against his throne of bones.

“You had better be something extraordinary, brat.”

Then Sukuna scoffed.

As if the manner of his creation didn’t already insinuate that.

“ The cursed spirit is a special-grade,” Sukuna said the following week, his tone neutral but echoing firmly in Yuuji’s head. “ You cannot defeat it, brat.”

Truly, the structure of jujutsu education was inane.

His vessel had no idea how to use cursed energy and was armed with nothing more than a blade he, also, hardly had any experience with. Yet here he was, saddled with a mission he had no hope of completing— even with two of his classmates. 

One of which, the girl, had already been overtaken by the curse. The other, the Ten Shadows User, had lost one of his shikigami to it. And Yuuji, of course, was useless.

But here they were, in the detention center, facing off a special-grade curse with no hope of victory. 

“ Help me then!” Yuuji’s mental voice retorted. “ Remember, if this body dies, you go with it!”

Sukuna held off on refuting that, even if he were to die, there were still eighteen other fragments of his soul remaining. Instead, he summoned an eye and mouth on Yuuji’s cheek and spoke thus, “I cannot help unless you acquiesce control to me.”

He could feel the beginnings of Yuuji retracting himself, only for the act to be rapidly cut off, like a portcullis slamming down. 

“But—“ The boy looked to Fushiguro— the aforementioned Ten Shadows User— and licked where the sweat had built up on his lips. “What will you do?”

What will he do indeed? He could kill Fushiguro and then the girl, just to see how much he could make his vessel squirm. To test how far Yuuji’s resilience could last. 

An enticing gambit to make, certainly.

But Sukuna had been effectively dead for centuries; he knew when to hold off on playing his cards. 

Instead, he merely muttered to the boy, “What do you think?”

It was not said unkindly, but a twinge of teasing was still felt nonetheless. He couldn’t help it; Yuuji was oh-so easy to mess with.

Presently, his vessel shook off his nerves and turned to Fushiguro.  The latter spoke first, “Itadori, time to run! We can—!”

His words were promptly cut off as the special-grade finally revealed itself. Though it hadn’t made another move yet, it was as if a dark force had crashed down upon the pair. The imminence of its power was ostensible, and both boys froze under the pressure of it. Their eyes widened, their hands shook, but neither one could seem to find it in themselves to move. 

How boring.

“Brat!” Sukuna snapped, and Yuuji darted to reach for his blade. 

He could only manage to unsheathe it before the cursed spirit severed his hand from his wrist. The blade snapped in half, shattering into a broken pile beside the boy’s detached fist. A wave of pain exploded like scattered fireworks up Yuuji’s arm. 

He stared at the gushing limb dumbly, so thoroughly discombobulated by the whole situation it was as if time itself paused to let the boy’s terror fester.

In the end, Fushiguro was the first to speak.

“Ita… dori?”

And just like that, his vessel snapped out of it. Sukuna couldn’t help but be amused; the boy was like a dog responding to its own name. 

Silently, Yuuji took off his belt, wrapping it taut around his bloody wrist in a surprisingly resourceful version of a tourniquet. 

“Itadori, we need to go!” Fushiguro shouted. 

The other shook his head. “I’ve made it this far; I can’t run away now!”

“Kuku, such valiance,” Sukuna cooed. “But how much longer will you live running on pure stubbornness alone, I wonder?”

Yuuji gritted his teeth in frustration, finishing the tourniquet. Before he could retort, however, the special-grade spat out a pulsating sphere of cursed energy, decimating everything in its path. Yuuji and Fushiguro had only narrowly dodged its area of destruction.

“Make up your mind, boy.”

The special-grade giggled to itself, pleased by its own capability for calamity. Yuuji took in a shuddering breath

“I know,” he mumbled. Then he turned to the other boy. “Fushiguro! Find Kugisaki and get her out of here! I’ll stay here and keep this one busy, at least until you two are clear. As soon as you’re both out, give me some sort of signal. And then… I’ll switch with Sukuna.”

So it seemed his vessel didn’t trust him. A wise decision; Sukuna couldn’t care less for the two child sorcerers, but pushing Yuuji into a position where he’d be forced to think critically was intriguing. He was more crafty than he let on. 

And far too headstrong.

Still, this was precisely the kind of moment Sukuna was hoping for.

“You’ll never stand a chance!” Fushiguro argued, cutting through Sukuna’s musings. “Fighting that thing with one hand?”

“Look, the curse is having fun. It’s obviously toying with us. I can use—“

“You can’t!”

“Fushiguro,” Yuuji said with a tone so soft it made Sukuna recoil. The boy smiled. “It’s okay.”

Such simple words, and yet they landed such a profound effect on the other. His expression stuttered, before a quiet understanding and resignation flitted over Fushiguro’s face. If Sukuna cared, he’d venture to say the Ten Shadows User was completely and utterly whipped for his vessel.

How fun. 

The other listened after that, hitching a ride from an owl-like shikigami to go after Kugisaki, leaving just Yuuji, the special-grade, and Sukuna.

Yuuji turned to face the cursed spirit, and Sukuna could sense his brain working to form a plan. Sukuna clicked his tongue. 

Too slow. 

Just as he’d anticipated, the curse left no time for Yuuji to ruminate, landing a blow on the boy’s cheek that sent him spiraling across the floor and into a nearby wall. It was a miracle (or rather, a product of Yuuji’s natural-born strength) that the force didn’t shatter his ribs entirely, and instead just knocked the wind out of him.

He coughed and struggled to catch his breath. Sukuna gritted his teeth. Again, the brat was too s—

Once more, the special-grade shot out a burst of energy, decimating the wall behind Yuuji and dragging the boy with it. He tumbled backwards, bones crunching as he landed on his back. He didn’t move.

Sukuna fumed.

“ Brat,” his mental voice reverberated to his vessel. “ Get up. ”

Yuuji didn’t even twitch.

“Brat!” Sukuna said, this time through his manifested maw. “Move!”

Yuuji shot up just as the curse began to summon more cursed energy, flickering around its form like lightning strikes. The energy swells and pulses, forming an immense, swirling, spherical mass larger and more potent than anything the special-grade has produced up to this point. Yuuji gritted his teeth. 

“Hold out your arms!” Sukuna barked.

The ball of pure power swelled nearer, and Yuuji— whether out of instinct or because of Sukuna’s instruction— raised his arms, his remaining hand bracing as it pushed at the circumference of the cursed energy. 

He strained against the force of it, the tips of his fingers beginning to burn and fry off. 

Sukuna was pissed.

“You need to repel the cursed energy, brat!” He snapped.

The boy let out a groan of pain. His arms shook and began to cave in; he was losing strength. “I… don’t know how!”

Curses, why was the state of Jujutsu education so useless?

“Rechannel it,” Sukuna urged. “Direct it elsewhere, evading your own cursed energy.”

“I… don’t…”

His fingers wobbled.

They hadn’t taught him how to use his own cursed energy either. Really, just what did that Six Eyes brat think he was doing “teaching” these kids ? 

Sukuna sank back into the depths of his innate domain. With Yuuji as his stringent vessel, both his and Sukuna’s souls were intertwined in a way. Moreover, their cursed energies shared a similar connection; Sukuna’s spirit pooled over and fed into Yuuji’s untapped potential. In that way, their powers were intrinsically connected, meaning Sukuna could pry it out if he worked hard enough at it. 

Summoning as much energy as he could to himself, Sukuna pushed against the walls of Yuuji’s will, channeling their shared power into a whirling hellfire inside the boy’s chest. It burned bright and white-hot, swelling within his ribcage, so apparent even a non-sorcerer would be able to sense it. 

“ There. Now, brat, wrap the special-grade’s cursed energy around your own.” 

He refused to let his vessel die to such a measly opponent before Sukuna had answers to the cluttered circumstances he’d been brought into. Yuuji’s stubbornness was tainted by recklessness, yes, but stubbornness was nonetheless a worthwhile trait in battle. So long as he refused to give up, the boy stood a fighting chance.

Presently, said boy howled in agony but seemed to take Sukuna’s words to heart, slowly pushing the opposing energy around himself. It was flimsy and uncoordinated, like a toddler first learning to hold a brush, but it would suffice for now. He had overcome the curse’s attack with nothing more than a few burns.  

With the attack thwarted, Yuuji dropped to his knees, panting. 

“S-Sukuna.” His words slurred. He was on the precipice of passing out,  and there was little Sukuna could do about it. Although, if that did happen, Sukuna might have an opportunity to take control of the body… A morbid sense of glee overtook his previous anger.

“I got ahead of myself,” Yuuji continued. “I thought I was strong. I thought I could…” He inhaled shakily. “But… but even if I’m weak, I’ve still got to give it everything I’ve got.”

Sukuna was dumbstruck. What’s with this asinine eulogy all of a sudden?! And why directed towards him, of all people?

The boy stood up, and Sukuna could feel the reinvigoration thrumming in his veins. Despite his injuries and the exhaustion nipping at him, he fell back into an offensive stance, his hand balled into a fist. Idiot! He was supposed to pass out, not die!

He arched his shoulder back, muscles tightening. When he finally launched the punch, to Sukuna’s quiet awe, there was the barest hint of cursed energy within it. 

Good. He’s not completely useless after all. 

Of course, even with the heroic preamble and the twinge of cursed energy, the attack did nothing. The special-grade caught his fist and snickered.

Yuuji’s heart plummeted when, all of a sudden, a great wolf’s howl emanated from across the detention center. 

Ah, there it was. Fushiguro’s signal.

Sukuna smiled, taking over his vessel’s form. His second eyes opened and his markings drew themselves across his face and body; Yuuji, true to his word, had instantly assented control to Sukuna. 

He twisted the special-grade’s clawed hand, and the latter squealed and writhed. To think the boy was about to lose his life to this. 

Sukuna huffed. 

“No matter how you slice it,” he said, exhilaration at the upcoming fight bubbling to the surface. “You’re such an annoying brat.”

The cursed spirit was dead. It was a short battle; the curse was no fun to play with. Inside of it, though, as Sukuna had suspected, was one of his fingers. He looked at it disinterestedly. 

“Well, there you have it, brat. A real demonstration of Jujutsu.” 

The boy hadn’t spoken since Sukuna had taken over, but his emotions were nonetheless apparent. During the fight, he would swell with excitement whenever Sukuna displayed his technique, even if in a more than gruesome manner. For that reason, Sukuna had found it enjoyable to toy around with the special-grade a little more than usual. His vessel was easily satiated, amazed at the most menial forms of sorcery like a child presented with a lollipop. 

Probably because he was still a child.

But that was neither here nor there.

“ That was so cool, Sukuna!” Yuuji’s voice finally piped up, and Sukuna almost wished it hadn’t. It was somehow more annoying having it ring in his head than emitted physically. “ I see why you’re a legend, now! Especially that last part, with the domain thing!”

“Domain Expansion,” Sukuna corrected, exasperated. Seriously, the jujutsu world was in shambles if it was up to him to teach Yuuji everything. He pressed two fingers to his temple, trying to soothe the headache he could feel coming on. “I will explain it to you at a later time. Now, are you going to switch with me? Or would you rather I go hunt down that classmate of yours and slice him into pieces?”

“ I will, I will!” His vessel whined. “ Just one thing: why are you helping me? I mean, you healed my hand— thanks for that, by the way— and helped me with my cursed energy.”

Oh, right. Sukuna had forgotten he did that; certainly, it wasn’t purposeful. He clicked his tongue. 

“I have no desire to fight one-handed, brat.” Fighting with just two was a pain enough. “It was no mercy to you, rather a benefit to me. Do not think too deeply into it.”

“ Well, sure, but why teach me? I just— I mean, I thought you hated me.”

Sukuna groaned. Since when was he so inquisitive?

But really, it wasn’t as if he could tell Yuuji the real answer: that he needed him alive to figure out the mystery of his creation. And, furthermore, to get to Kenjaku. That was all too much to explain, and too much for the brat to know. But what else could he say? That he cared? The notion made him sick.

In the end, he said, “Your weakness is as much a hindrance to me as it is to you.”

“ Okay, but that doesn’t explain why—“

“Fushiguro has not left the vicinity, despite your insistence. How about I—“

Sukuna was promptly shoved back into the depths of Yuuji’s soul as the boy resumed control of the body. 

The brat’s soul would not stop drifting into Sukuna’s domain to sleep. It was beyond aggravating; sleep was supposed to be Sukuna’s break from Yuuji, and yet here the boy was, worming his way into everything. 

On what had to be the fiftieth time Sukuna had woken from his meditation to find his vessel curled up in a soft patch of land between the skulls, Yuuji began to have a nightmare.

It started with mere tremors, which were easy enough to ignore. Then it escalated into broken whimpers and sobs, and Sukuna could no longer look past it. 

He sighed, rising from his throne to approach the cause of his vexation. The boy was curled in on himself, sniffling and shaking. Sukuna rolled his eyes and nudged him with his foot. Yuuji didn’t so much as stir. 

Damn brat sleeps like the dead.

Having no other option, Sukuna knelt down to the boy’s level, shaking his shoulder with his hand. Of course, this didn’t have the intended effect, because when did anything work as planned when it came to Yuuji Itadori? Instead, his vessel had the nerve to reach up and grab the sleeve of Sukuna’s kimono, tugging on it as if to draw it nearer. Sukuna attempted to pull it back, only to be shocked by just how firm the boy’s hold on it was— like he was clinging to a lifeline.

“Brat,” he growled. “Wake up.”

He flicked Yuuji’s nose, and the kid awakened with a gasp. He shot up, colliding with Sukuna’s forehead and drawing out a hiss from the latter. He recovered just as Yuuji turned to look at him, seemingly beginning to register what was going on as he let out a confused noise. 

His eyes were wide and rimmed red with tears, swollen and puffy. His mouth was slightly agape, and it took a full fifteen seconds before he realized he was clinging to Sukuna’s sleeve. Yuuji let go of it in a daze, still trying to make out what was going on.

“At last.” Sukuna breathed in relief, standing up. Yuuji was in the midst of attempting to catch his breath.

“Where— where am I?” He finally asked, his voice chalky with the residuals of sleep. 

Sukuna raised an eyebrow. “You really don’t know? You come here every night, brat.” 

The boy just looked even more bewildered. 

Sukuna sighed, sitting back down so he was across from Yuuji. “This is my innate domain. It is similar to a Domain Expansion, but more intrinsic. Because both our souls are sharing one body at the moment, you have access to mine.”

  Yuuji looked around at the viscera and nodded. “Your soul, huh… that would make sense.”

Sukuna couldn’t help but smile at that.

“I come here every night? Really? Why?”

“You tell me, boy.”

Yuuji seemed lost in thought, his brows pinching together. “But…” He shook his head. “If I come here every night, why haven’t you woken me up before?”

Sukuna squinted. “Why would I concern myself with you more than I already have? You were making a ruckus in your sleep, otherwise I would’ve continued to ignore you.”

“Well, then… thanks, I guess.” He rubbed the nape of his neck and gave the other a lopsided smile. “You know, you really aren’t as bad as I thought you’d be.”

Sukuna froze.

He… didn’t know how to respond to that.

Those words had never been uttered to him before.

Quickly, though, his momentary surprise flitted back to its carefully concealed facade, and Sukuna frowned. “Go back to sleep, brat.”

“But, I—“

“Sleep.”

He tapped two fingers against Yuuji’s forehead, and the boy fell unconscious. 

Usually, just before the boy woke up, his soul would fade away from Sukuna’s domain and return to his corporeal body, rousing him in the physical realm. He wouldn’t remember ever being there and would resume his day as normal. The night after Sukuna had woken him from his nightmare, however, Yuuji’s soul did not continue its normal routine. 

Instead, Sukuna was alerted of Yuuji’s awakening by a soft, sleepy calling of his name.

“Sukuna,” he mumbled, lying a ways away from where the other was meditating. “Su-kuna, Su-ku-na !”

He drew out the last syllable, irking the curse enough that he forwent his contemplation and stalked over to the wily brat.

“If you are awake you may leave.” 

Yuuji pouted. His cheek was squished against the red-stained grass beneath him, as if he loathed to get up. “The ground here is surprisingly soft. Did you make it that way?”

Sukuna felt the land with his foot and couldn’t find his vessel’s statement further from the truth— it was hard and sturdy, unrelenting. It certainly couldn’t be a comfortable place for resting. Still, he said nothing, other than reiterating, “Leave.”

The other ignored him. “Do I have an innate domain too?”

“If you do not leave, I will dismantle your head from your neck and force you to.”

The boy promptly shut his eyes and pretended to snore. 

Sukuna rolled his eyes (again) and took a seat on top of his vessel. The latter gave up on sleeping and squaked in indignation, squirming underneath him. 

“You have the potential to create one, at the very least.” Seeing as prodding Yuuji to do anything would never go anywhere, Sukuna switched tactics. “You need better control over your cursed energy, however.”

Yuuji managed to shove Sukuna off of him enough to slip into a sitting position a meter or so away. He frowned for a moment, then an idea seemed to suddenly come to him. He folded his hands in his lap, as polite as the curse had ever seen him. Then he said, with full conviction, “Alright, so train me.”

Sukuna smiled. This brat. “Why would I do that?” 

“Because! You need me to be strong, right? So I’m not a hindrance? You said it yourself! And besides, Gojo-Sensei is always so busy. Plus, I have a mission coming up I need to be ready for.”

“I’ll give you one minute.” Sukuna stood up, yawning.

“Huh?”

“If you can land a hit on me in the next sixty-seconds, I will train you. Within those sixty-seconds, I will not attack or make a move against you in any way, only dodge. If you fail to hit me once the minute is up, you will leave my domain and not bother me again. Agreed?”

Yuuji grinned, rising as well and rolling his shoulder out in preparation. “Absolutely! I’m gonna kick your ass for sure!”

“Begin.”

His vessel ran straight for him, not even attempting anything sly, and raised his fist at him. Sukuna side-stepped the attack with ease.

Yuuji didn’t seem discouraged by this, and leapt immediately into his second shot— quite literally. He flew in the air— an impressive height for a non-sorcerer, Sukuna would admit— and nose-dived down at the curse who, once more, dodged the attack. 

The boy landed on his feet, this time moving low to the ground and skirting along the blood soaked path to land an uppercut on Sukuna. Again, Sukuna evaded this. 

“Thirty seconds, brat,” he said as Yuuji whipped around to swing punch after punch at the other. He was off by a centimeter each time. 

The boy was fast, for one who’d never had any formal training. He’d only recently had lessons with Gojo, as his death had been faked after the detention center incident to allow the Six Eyes to train him without interference. 

Train, of course, was a strong word for what Gojo did. 

Regardless, the isolation had, evidently, made his vessel antsy if he was begging Sukuna for interaction. Briefly, he wondered if that had played a part in what caused Yuuji’s nightmare. 

Presently, Yuuji was releasing all he had at the curse, his mixed martial arts blending into acrobatics blending into calisthenics.  He was close, Sukuna could sense it. Just one more push…

“Use your head, brat. Ten seconds.” 

What Sukuna had intended with those words was for Yuuji to think of something tactically sound and crafty. And by the sudden sparkle in his eyes, Sukuna had thought he’d taken the hint. But his vessel, of course, did not heed his meaning. 

No, instead the boy had taken the words at face-value and slammed his head into Sukuna’s. The attack— the headbutt— was so abrupt and so absurd Sukuna had no time to counteract it, instead falling backwards from the force with Yuuji tumbling down beside him. 

For a moment, no one said anything. 

Sukuna laid stunned on his back, as Yuuji panted and rose above him. There was an ugly red-purple bruise building on his forehead, but the boy was grinning from ear to ear.

“There,” he said between breaths. “I did it. I landed a hit on you. Now you have to train me.”

Sukuna grabbed the brat by his hair and flung him face-first into the curse’s knee. 

“Ow! Ow— Hey, what the hell!”

He let go and his vessel toppled over, cradling his abused head. 

“You are an idiot, Yuuji Itadori.” He stood up, folding his arms over his chest. He made a point not to check if a similar red-purple mark donned his forehead as well. “But you are a successful idiot, nonetheless. I will train you.”

The night before his mission, Yuuji came to Sukuna’s domain. He had figured out how to come here of his volition, instead of just subconsciously drifting there (for whatever reason), and now it seemed Sukuna could never get rid of him. Mostly, he came to train, which Sukuna was amicable about. 

The boy was getting better, stronger. He had more control over his energy and his senses were further fine-tuned. He would still easily lose to Sukuna in a true battle, but that was as it should be.

He was training this brat to survive, not to surpass him. 

Tonight, Yuuji was quiet— a rarity for him. He had propped his elbows up to cradle the back of his head as he leaned against a pile of skulls. A few days prior, Sukuna had sliced the bone into what could almost be considered a chair, after Yuuji had whined that it wasn’t fair Sukuna had a throne all to himself and Yuuji was stuck standing. Sukuna had reminded his vessel that this was his innate domain, suited for him only, but it went nowhere.

“Speak your mind, brat.” Currently, the curse was sitting cross-legged on the ground near the blood river. He was carving the handle of a calligraphy brush with his technique, carefully rounding the edges to better fit his hand. Though physical objects didn’t really exist in one’s innate domain, and were rather metaphysical expressions of thought, Sukuna still derived comfort in the task of writing. It gave him something to do, something to keep his hands and mind busy, when he wasn’t training Yuuji.

“Hm?”

“You came here for something. Quit wasting my time and tell me what it is.”

“Mm,” the boy looked at his lap, his eyes dimming. “I don’t really know, to be honest.”

Sukuna withheld a sigh. Fine, then. He’d go on ignoring the brat.

“I just—“ And there went that idea. “—Wanted to know if you think I’m ready for this mission, I guess. I mean, you saw how my last one went.”

This time, Sukuna really did sigh. “If you go on thinking that you’ll continue to be just as weak as you were then. You are stronger now, you know that. Believe yourself ready or not, I don’t care. You will be, whether or not you think so, and that is all that matters.”

He finished whittling the handle and moved to attach the ferrule. 

“Okay,” Yuuji said, hopping up from his bone chair. Just like that, his mood completely changed. He smiled and sauntered over to Sukuna to peer over his shoulder. “Whoa! I didn’t know you were an artist.”

Sukuna scowled. “Anyone with a semblance of dignity in the Heian Era possessed knowledge in calligraphy.”

“Oh, yeah? Even you? You’ve got to show me, please!” 

He narrowed his eyes at the other. “Since when did you develop a fascination with the arts?”

“Aw, c’mon, Sukuna!” Yuuji whined. “I don’t know anything about you other than your ability to kill things. Let me see it just this once, please?”

“You truly are the most vexing of creatures.”

Even as he said this, he set aside the brush he was working on and retrieved a pre-made one, an ink slab, and a sheet of parchment. He was never too pedantic about setting up a perfectly fitted station and whatnot, merely wrote where and what he wanted when he wanted. 

As of now, the ground of his innate domain would do just fine as a desk. Dipping his brush into the ink, Sukuna carefully inscribed thus: 

“ Why ever come into this life to grow, young sprout—

don’t you know sorrows flourish in this world as countless as

the nodes on a bamboo stalk?”

“Huh,” was Yuuji’s succinct reply. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, the characters are super pretty! But the poem itself is a little dark, no?”

Sukuna scoffed. “You are young and foolishly sanguine. Reality will sink in for you eventually.” 

The boy just frowned. “Let me try,” he asked, holding out his hand for the brush.

Amused, Sukuna handed it to him and pulled out a separate sheet for him to write on.

“Go ahead, brat.”

Yuuji’s grip on the brush was all sorts of incorrect, and his position hunched over the parchment was even worse, but Sukuna said nothing until his vessel finished and pulled away. What he revealed was (at least intended to be) this: 

“ Petals bloom then scatter

a sorrowful spring parting

but surely you will come again

to view the flowering capital.”

Sukuna burst into a laughing fit, his sides splitting the more he looked at the poem. The characters were horribly misshapen, each blending into the next with no hope of salvage. To make matters worse, most of the ink had been smudged and blotched about, leaving a nearly incomprehensible mess.

“Hey! It’s my first time, okay! No one is good at something on their first try!” Yuuji tried to defend himself, his hands on his hips.

“Truly, brat, in my thousand years of living never have I seen worse handwriting,” he replied once his laughter finally died down. 

“Will you at least say something about the poem itself?”

Sukuna hummed, rubbing his chin between his forefinger and thumb. “It is the sort of blind, hopeful optimism I would expect from you, boy. Though I am surprised you are familiar with Lady Murasaki Shikibu.”

Yuuji squirmed a little, looking away. Sukuna couldn’t tell if it was out of bashfulness or discomfort. “Grandpa used to read The Tale of Genji to me when I was younger,” he replied quietly.

Ah. It felt as though ages had passed since Sukuna first sorted through Yuuji’s memories. He had forgotten that particular detail. 

“Hm,” Sukuna grunted, in lieu of a response. “Go to sleep, brat.” 

“Aww, you always say that when I start to have fun!”  Yuuji droned, standing up. 

“Because you are a petulance. Sleep.”

That night, Yuuji dreamt of a much younger version of himself running through a hazy field, trying to capture each and every peach blossom before they were carried away by the spring wind.

His mission was proceeding swiftly by. Though Yuuji was still technically dead in accordance with all previous records on him, Gojo had felt it prudent to let another in on their secret. Kento Nanami.

There wasn’t much Sukuna could say about the man, other than he appeared to be a better mentor than Gojo (not that that was a hard thing to accomplish, though). In all honesty, Sukuna was a bit bored of the situation. 

They were investigating some punk kid with curse residuals on him, and Sukuna could really care less about what happened to him. Yuuji, of course, was the complete opposite.

He immediately grew attached to the other boy— what was his name? Junya, Junki, Junpei, something like that. Despite the warning signs, and Jun-whatever’s apparent connection to the cursed spirit and Sukuna’s finger, Yuuji didn’t care. He followed his heart before his head to the umpteenth degree.

There was no better example of this than the events currently transpiring now.

After Junpei’s (Sukuna retrieved the name from Yuuji’s memories) connection with the cursed spirit was confirmed, Yuuji was given strict instruction by Nanami not to go after Junpei and the cursed spirit. Sukuna agreed with this sentiment; the creature behind the scenes wasn’t a mindless one like the previous special-grade Yuuji had fought. While he was certain Yuuji could, by now, tackle something like the detention center’s curse, he was apprehensive towards one with more wit.

Hell, even Ijichi, the glorified valet, had tried to dissuade Yuuji from going. 

Still, the boy did not listen. 

He burst in through the high school gymnasium doors, finding the floor scattered with dozens if not hundreds of student corpses. Behind the calamity stood Junpei, his hand raised with a composed, unshaken expression as another student writhed a foot off the floor in front of him. Yuuji’s heart stuttered.

“What’re you doing,” he screamed. “Junpei!?”

The other turned to him, unphased. “Stay out of this, jujutsu sorcerer.”

Junpei summoned his shikigami— a jellyfish type, and a large one at that— and Yuuji wasted no time in jumping into action. They had repositioned into the hallway to fight, away from the mound of corpses. Even so, the friendship that had been building over the last few days tugged at their heartstrings, forcing them to hold back. 

Junpei urged Yuuji to leave. Once again, this did not work.

The moment his vessel had his mind set on something, his resolve did not falter. This must have been especially true after having witnessed the dead bodies back in the gymnasium.

“What’s the point of thoughtlessly saving people?” Junpei argued, cursed energy boiling to the surface as he propelled his shikigami at Yuuji with full force. Sukuna had been mostly tuning their scuffling out, more interested in Yuuji’s combat ability. ”That’s not what life’s about!”

The shikigami swarmed Yuuji, but the boy had been trained by Sukuna himself, and so he hardly struggled against it. With little difficulty, he reached a hand through its tendrils to grab onto Junpei’s collar, shouting back, “Who are you making excuses to?”

He moved to attack the shikigami, but his strikes were worthless, and the shikigami didn’t even shift under the weight of his onslaught.

“Use more cursed energy, brat,” Sukuna encouraged.

Yuuji, for once, listened. His fist swelled with power, and he slammed it into the shikigami. The force of it flung the other boy out of the window, and he landed on the overhang of one of the school’s bike racks.

Junpei quickly recovered and repositioned his shikigami, just as Yuuji followed him out of the shattered window, assenting through the air to be at his level.

Moving on instinct, Junpei tried to thwart Yuuji’s landing with his shikigami, but the latter merely slammed his fists into the metal rooftop, destroying both it and the shikigami’s reaching tendrils. 

The other must have been shocked at this display, but Sukuna wasn’t, he mused with a sense of satisfaction. The brat was improving. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Junpei,” said his vessel. He arched his fist back, channeling his cursed energy to flow within it. “String together whatever logic you want. But all you’re doing is trying to convince yourself you’re on the right side of this.”

His knuckles smashed into Junpei’s cheek, launching him backwards and through another window. The kid struggled to retrieve himself, and Yuuji took his chance.

“I don’t know why you’re doing this, Junpei. You must have a reason.” He slowly stepped through the windowsill, drawing in closer. His guard was down, and Sukuna bristled. Foolish. “But is it really worth throwing your life away?” 

The other hung his head, still sprawled out on the floor. He murmured, “Having a heart is a delusion.”

Yuuji froze. “Are you serious? Can you really say something like that to your mom?” He cried.

Junpei kept going. “People… they don’t have hearts.”

“You’re still just trying—!”

“They don’t!” Junpei snapped, his fists trembling. He tilted his head up, and Yuuji found tears streaming down his cheeks. “Otherwise— otherwise, how could people with those same hearts curse me and my mom? That would just be— too much! Then I… I wouldn’t even know what’s right and what’s wrong anymore.”

He sunk back into himself, his outburst having taken everything out of him. His shikigami, however, floated up behind him, and Sukuna barked at Yuuji to move. But the boy did nothing, and the jellyfish’s spears lodged themselves into his chest.

Sukuna was aggravated.

Junpei was shocked. 

“Why… why didn’t you dodge?” 

He withdrew his shikigami, still kneeling before Yuuji, still trying to process. Sukuna’s vessel approached the other boy, his steps strained from the two holes in his chest. Blood stained the tiles, but he paid it no mind.

“Sorry,” he said, with a genuineness only he could produce. “I said a lot of arrogant stuff back there without knowing what you’re going through.”

Yuuji knelt down, looking at Junpei without a trace of anger or indignation. Only... 

Sukuna cut the thought off.

Useless.

“But you can talk to me. If you do, then I swear to you I won’t curse you anymore. Please.”

He took Junpei’s shaking hands into his own, and Junpei told him of his mother’s passing. Sukuna felt Yuuji’s heart clench, and he closed his metaphysical eyes in frustration, shaking his metaphysical head. There really was no stopping his bleeding heart.

“Junpei,” Yuuji spoke up after a while. “Join Jujutsu High. You’d like it. There are lots of crazy strong teachers, and good, reliable friends there. If we all work together, I guarantee you we can find out who cursed your mom.”

He spoke with renewed vigor, but Sukuna wasn’t paying attention to any of it. There was some other presence drawing closer, something fresh and potently strong. More pressing. 

“We’ll punish ‘em. So, let’s fight together!”

There it was.

“ Brat!”

Yuuji looked up just in time to see the cursed spirit prance down the staircase behind Junpei. He was human looking, with long bluish hair and stitch marks across his skin— ones that almost reminded Sukuna of Kenjaku, but he would know if the bastard was around; he was sure of that— but behind that crooked smile Sukuna sensed a rich, rotting darkness. 

“Who are you?” His vessel asked, perhaps not yet realizing the man before him was no man at all.

“I guess it’s nice to meet you,” said the curse. He reached up, and his arm swelled to double its size. Some sort of body modification technique? “Sukuna’s vessel.”

So the cursed spirit did have more knowledge that he should. Sukuna suspected as much, but to have it laid out before him directly… just what was a curse like that hoping to achieve? 

“Wait, Mahito!” Junpei tried fruitlessly to assuage the situation, but the cursed spirit— Mahito– evidently didn’t care.

His arm inflated to ten times its size and slammed Yuuji into the wall behind him. The enlarged hand kept him pinned there as the boy strained and struggled to release himself from its grip.

“Junpei, run!” He shouted. “I don’t know how you know this guy but just run away! Please!”

“Don’t worry, Itadori! Mahito isn’t a bad per—“

Junpei’s words were cut short as the cursed spirit appeared behind him, his hand on his shoulder.

“Junpei,” Mahito said, that sickly smile still plastered on his face. If he were a living creature, his breath would’ve pressed against the kid’s cheek. “You’re a pretty smart guy. But you overthink things when you should act, which puts you in some pretty bad spots.”

“ Forget the kid,” Sukuna told Yuuji. “ Get out of here. This is a foe you are not yet strong enough to defeat.”

“This is a perfect example! Junpei, all those people you think are stupid… Well, guess what?” He snickered. “You’re just as stupid as they are.

“That’s why you’re gonna die.”

Just like that, the kid’s head swelled like a balloon and his body contorted, twisting around until he was some animalistic shell of himself. Unrecognizable.

His cursed technique affects others too.

Mahito released Yuuji, and the boy stood frozen in horror. 

“Junpei..?”

The creature who was once Junpei barged into Yuuji, and the latter wrapped his arms around his neck to keep him in a headlock.

“Junpei, get it together!” The creature squirmed and writhed. “I’m gonna help you!”

He seemed to be incapable of rational thought at this point, though, and continued trying to attack Yuuji.

“Sukuna,” His vessel called out. “Sukuna!”

“What?” Sukuna snapped, forming an eye and mouth on the boy’s cheek. The brat hadn’t listened to him thus far, but now all of a sudden he wanted something from him? What a bother.

“I’ll do anything! Anything you want, anything I can! Just help him, help Junpei. Please, like when you fixed my hand.”

His voice cracked pitifully, but unfortunately for him, Sukuna was in no merciful mood.

“No.”

“Wh— What?”

“Your insatiable desire for saving everyone is getting on my nerves, brat. You have forgotten your place, ordering me around like that. Why should I do you any favors? You are my vessel. The kid is beyond saving, it’s time you face the truth.”

“No, you’re wrong—!”

“Yuu— ji—“ Junpei pulled at Yuuji’s pants, startling the latter out of his quarrel with Sukuna. “W-why…?”

Then he slumped to the floor and died.

Mahito burst into laughter. Not like Sukuna’s fit the other night over Yuuji’s lowly handwriting; this was cruel, condescending. Deriving joy in other’s suffering.

“Oh, already dead?” The curse giggled, like a toddler who had accidentally torn the sleeve of his doll. “I transfigured him a little aggressively, I guess.”

Yuuji had yet to take a breath, still staring at the lifeless mound of flesh at his feet, unable to believe what was before his very own eyes.

Sukuna sighed. “Brat, it is as I said, you cannot—“

Yuuji slammed his fist into Mahito’s face, sending him flying into the stairs. The attack was surprisingly strong, reaching Mahito’s soul enough to cause his nose to bleed. He had learned to intuit, by virtue of being a vessel and sparring soul-to-soul with Sukuna, the contours of a spirit— a skill Sukuna, at the time, hadn’t realized would become so valuable. 

He felt the twinge of something warm blossom in his chest, but he couldn’t quite pin down what it was he was feeling, so he ignored it. 

“ I’m gonna kill you,” Yuuji said, and Sukuna was taken aback by the ferocity of the statement. Not only was it violent in nature, it was assured. It was not just a desire, but a declaration of fate. An assertion that, no matter what, such an ending would come to be. 

From a boy as heartfelt and naive as his vessel, it was nearly unbecoming of him.

The cursed spirit, of course, didn’t understand (or care) for the complexities of such words.

“Don’t you mean ‘exorcise,’ jujutsu sorcerer?” He teased.

The pair lapsed into battle after that, and Yuuji held nothing back. His cursed energy output was getting better, and so too was his strength and quick thinking in battle. Honestly, all things aside, it was a good demonstration of  just how much Yuuji had grown since the detention center incident if nothing else. 

But he was no match for Mahito.

They had made it out in the courtyard by the time Sukuna spoke up again.

“This is pointless, you cannot defeat him. Leave, brat.”

Yuuji paid him no mind, grunting as Mahito sent spikes through the backs of his hands. Sukuna growled.

“Listen to me, you punk! If you won’t flee then switch with me; I’ll kill him!”

“Why should I?” Yuuji snapped back. “You didn’t want to help me before, so why should I believe anything’s changed?”

You weren’t in danger before. 

But of course, Sukuna couldn’t say that. 

Yuuji swung Mahito around and darted at him, landing punch after punch before, inevitably, Mahito usurped him. Caught in a pile of spikes that were strung through his chest, Yuuji was powerless to do anything as Mahito approached him with his technique.

“Sukuna is right,” he said. “You can’t beat me. Now, go on and switch.”

He pressed a hand to Yuuji’s chest and activated his technique, presumably to force the switch into occurring. 

Instead, he found himself in Sukuna’s innate domain.

The King of Curses was sitting upon his throne of skulls, and when Mahito arrived, he tilted his chin onto his fist and looked down at him; an ant amongst the rubble. 

“You dare attempt to touch my vessel’s soul? To touch my soul?” He hissed out the words, watching with muted pleasure as Mahito squirmed.

He was a young curse, just recently born, Sukuna could tell. That gave him no excuse for such impudence, however.

“You are worse than the brat. Die.”

He threw out the beginnings of Cleave , but the cursed spirit was smart enough to realize he’d been subdued and backed out of his domain just as the attack started to land.

In the physical world, he howled out in pain, clutching at his bisected face. Yuuji, realizing what was going on, used Mahito’s momentary weakness to his advantage.

“Didn’t you hear what I said? I’m not gonna switch. I’m gonna kill you.”

He smashed his head into Mahito’s.

Sukuna shook his head internally. Seriously, who had told him that was a smart move?

Nonetheless, the boy was more feral and vicious than Sukuna had initially given him credit for. Despite the marked difference in their skill, he was holding his own surprisingly well.

But for how long would that last…

The brat survived. 

Soon after Mahito had left Sukuna’s domain, Nanami came to Yuuji’s rescue. They hadn’t fully vanquished the cursed spirit, though, and that was Sukuna’s only regret.

Other than that, his vessel had proven himself in battle, but he was still so irritatingly philanthropic. Hell, he even went so far as to break into Mahito’s domain, just to rescue Nanami. 

Foolish little thing.

He had hoped that seeing Junpei die would’ve made it click in Yuuji’s brain that his continued existence relied on being selfish, disregarding those weaker than you. But no such luck.

And that was another thing: Yuuji had stopped coming to Sukuna’s innate domain to rest. 

Whereas before he would do so unintentionally (and later, Sukuna suspected, with enthusiasm), he avoided Sukuna at all costs. He didn’t even ask for training or to try out a new move, something Sukuna was all but anticipating would happen after his first real fight with a cursed spirit. 

But there was nothing.

Instead, it seemed as if… Well. It almost seemed as if he was going out of his way to pretend the King of Curses didn’t exist at all. 

This all came to a head when Yuuji awoke from a nightmare. He had had several since the fight with Mahito; at least one every night. Tonight’s was particularly bad, leaving him sweaty and shaking and gasping for air. His face was stained with tears, and he groaned as he sat up.

The sheets shuffled around him, and he balled the fabric into his fists, letting out a frustrated cry as he knocked his head into his knees. 

He hugged his legs to his chest, trying to hide his face. From whom, Sukuna didn’t know. Certainly it couldn’t have been him, given Sukuna witnessed everything from Yuuji’s own perspective, but then who else? It was empty here, in the basement.

He was alone.

The boy trembled, and a few more tears slipped from his eyes.

Angered at himself— for reasons Sukuna couldn’t yet piece together— he slammed his fist into his legs, letting out the same stunted cry each time. After the fourth round of this, Sukuna summoned an eye and maw on the boy’s cheekbone. 

“Brat,” he said calmly. “Enough.”

Yuuji’s hand— which was still raised in the air, ready to strike against himself once more— fell and landed beside him on the bed. With that one move, it was as if all the energy had been sucked out of him, and he deflated in defeat. 

“Why are you here,” he mumbled eventually. He sunk his right cheek on his knee as if to push Sukuna away, but the curse just relocated to his other one. 

“I am always here,” Sukuna replied. “You are my vessel.”

The boy tensed. “Don’t.” He sucked in a breath through clenched teeth. “Don’t call me that. I can’t— not from you.”

“Then cease this loud self-destruction of yours. It is very disruptive.”

“It’s not self— can’t I be angry?! Don’t I have a right to that, at least!”

“Brat.”

“Just leave me alone. Haven’t you done enough?”

Done enough—! 

Alright. That was it.

Sukuna dragged Yuuji into his innate domain; the first time he’d been there since Mahito. The boy was sitting on the ground in his pajamas, and after a brief moment of silent shock, he turned to face Sukuna.

“ You!” He swung a punch at him, and then another after Sukuna dodged the first, and then another, and then another. 

In the end, Sukuna had to restrain him, pinning his arm behind his back while the other one reached out fervently in an attempt to grab him. 

“Let go of me! Let me out of here!” He shouted. 

“Enough with this tantrum, brat.” Sukuna said firmly, still keeping the other’s wrist in place even as he wriggled around and kicked up dirt. “It is annoying, but more than that, it is hindering your training. Explain yourself or get over it.”

The brat gave escape one more valiant (worthless) attempt, before ostensibly surrendering. He slumped to his knees and, after a few moments, Sukuna slowly released his arm. When Yuuji made no move to strike him again, Sukuna huffed.

At last, his vessel spoke up. “I don’t understand.” 

His voice was small and timid. That irked Sukuna, for some reason.

He sat down, crossing his arms. Yuuji’s back was to him, his head dipped in a low display of vanquishment. “Elaborate, boy.”

“You,” he continued, as if that was any help. “I don’t understand you. One moment you’re disregarding me, the next you’re— you—“ He gestured vaguely with his hand before finally turning around. “Doing this.” Yuuji waved his hand at him. “I don’t get it. Do you care or not? Gojo-sensei said you were once a real person— a sorcerer— but just how much of that is left in you? How much of you is an irredeemable monster from legend, and how much is…” 

He trailed off, but Sukuna got the picture. 

How much is human?

And if it were anyone else, anyone but his vessel, his accursed nephew of unknown origin, they would’ve lost their ability to speak after the first few words. But Yuuji wasn’t anyone else, and so he remained, all pieces intact.

Sukuna sighed and answered, “If you mean to ask if I care, you are entirely mistaken. I do not care, I have never cared, and I never will. For you or for anyone else. Even before I became a cursed object, I understood the worthlessness of love. That is simply who I am, who I have always been, and who I will continue to be.”

Yuuji listened, and his eyes darkened. He was quiet for a long while.

“Is that why you let Junpei die?” He murmured under his breath. 

Ah. Still upset over that, are we? How could one weak, futile little life mean so much?

“You still don’t get it, brat. Love is meaningless. Love will not save you in a fight, nor will it preserve your life should you fall victim to any other affliction. Love offers nothing. Yet you place it above all else, and that is your ultimate flaw. You cast aside your life for others, even those who have no hope of surviving with or without your help. Junpei was a prime example of that.”

“Liar! He died because you didn’t want to save him!”

“And if I had?” Sukuna snapped back. “Would he not have just continued to get in your way, falling victim to the same attack again and again until no amount of reverse cursed technique could save him? Or, worse, lead to your own demise? You were barely holding your own against Mahito without that nuisance there.”

“Stop it!” Yuuji stood up, his eyes shimmering and breath hammering in his lungs with unshed emotion. “That doesn’t matter. I would’ve figured something out. That’s what love is: trying again and again for someone even if it’s hard.”

Sukuna scoffed. “And you still see no problem with that?”

“No, I don’t. Because people aren’t meant to go like Junpei did. They’re meant— they’re meant to go surrounded by others. And if I can make sure even one person I love has a proper death, then I’ll know my life, and everything I sacrificed along the way, was worth it.”

He huffed, sitting back down. When he looked at Sukuna, his eyes were burning, but not with the hatred he would’ve expected. 

“So answer me honestly, Sukuna. Do you really understand love, or do you just find it easier to cast it aside entirely and act like loneliness doesn’t affect you?”

The curse paused. Then, he laughed, harder than he had before, with the calligraphy. Harder than Mahito had laughed at Yuuji, when Junpei died. Harder than he ever had in his life, he was sure. He laughed without regard for the situation, without regard for Yuuji’s reaction to it.

He laughed because no one, no one, other than the one before him would ever dare to ask him such a thing.

“You are an unequivocal thing, Yuuji Itadori. You truly have no regard for your own self-preservation, saying things like that.” Sukuna smirked, thoroughly amused, and thought to himself how much more fun keeping the brat alive was than he could’ve ever anticipated. “Do you mean to suggest that you be the one to teach me the ‘true’ meaning of love?”

Yuuji nodded, with no indication of sarcasm or flippancy. He was dead serious. “If that’s what it takes to get you to see the flaws in your logic, then, yes.”

“Kuku, you truly think you can? I have been alive for a millennium, and not once has anyone or anything shifted my perspective.”

“Then I guess I’ll be the first.”

“Oh?” Sukuna sat up. He couldn’t keep the bemused smile off his face, to the point even Yuuji was starting to mirror it. “And what makes you think you’re so different from all those in the past?”

“You said it yourself, Sukuna,” Yuuji said. “I’m your vessel.”

He didn’t realize the gravity of his words, the uniqueness of his very construct, but that just made it all the more striking that he was saying things like that at all. 

Yuuji Itadori.

Are you really the son of Kenjaku? The nephew of mine?

But then again, who else could have come up with such a strange conviction? 

Still, he didn’t bear the weight of such knowledge yet, and for now, Sukuna would keep it that way. 

Afterall, he was eager to see just how Yuuji planned on convincing him of all this.

The next night, Yuuji came to his domain to rest. He did not have any nightmares. Sukuna told himself this was because earlier that day Gojo had told him he was to reunite with his classmates, and the promise of that had incited comfort and excitement.

There was surely no other reason.