Chapter Text
The first thing Yuji notices as he slowly begins to regain consciousness is hunger. It gnaws at his stomach, like hundreds of bugs crawling across his skin. Second, but no less important, he feels as if a vital organ — his heart, for example — has been ripped out of him. He's still alive, he can still move, speak, and — most importantly — think, but the feeling of wrongness and emptiness lingers.
Ah, so that's it.
He realizes this when he slowly leans back in his chair, throws his head back, and opens his eyes, noticing the ceiling hung with restraining seals.
That very room.
He feels the restraining paper, similar to the one once wrapped around Sukuna's fingers, burning his skin. Because he's a half-curse, the cursed energy is part of his body. The seals that restrain it deprive him of yet another functional organ. That's why he feels hungry, that's why fatigue is building up, that's why his body feels empty.
Yuji grins.
Of course they would have seated him here. He would have done the same.
He doesn't sense the presence across from him. And the silence also tells him he's alone in the room now. Well, almost alone. Gojo, not yet a sensei, wouldn't remain silent. But that's good. He still has time. Yuji begins to devour his own soul, his younger self. It's a long process, even for him. The soul was already able to withstand Sukuna's presence; no wonder it resists.
But even despite the resistance, the process has already begun. Old memories begin to surface in his head, refreshing his memory. He ignores most of them, dwelling on the recent events. How he found the finger. And the events that followed, especially...his grandfather's death. It's good that he incarnated after. It would be difficult to watch someone important in his life die before his eyes again, while he can only watch.
This isn't someone else's technique, he's sure. They could use his memories against him, they could draw him into a realistic illusion, but there are too few who can interact with souls. Yuji knows better. Surprisingly, it's Sukuna's soul within his body that tells him this is reality — the technique wouldn't replicate the innate domain, it wouldn't revive the soul.
Sukuna...
Yuji doesn't feel any negative emotions toward him — they've long since washed away over time, like bad paint on a wall, leaving only a neutral white. He finds himself sometimes agreeing with his methods. He finds himself more often mentally nodding to certain sayings of his that occasionally surface in his mind.
The Strongest.
Ryoumen Sukuna holds the title of the Strongest, Gojo Satoru holds the title of the Strongest, Yuji refused to bear that title.
Now he knows better.
A title bestowed upon a sorcerer is like a collar on a dog's neck — a deterrent and a way mean of subjugation for those weaker than themselves. But should they begin to struggle for their identity, even for a moment, turn their back on the teachings, the title bestowed upon them for strength becomes a noose that the entire sorcerous world is ready to tighten around their necks.
It was never meant to be a crown.
On the other hand...
Yuji's thoughts are interrupted by the distinct creaking of a door — how long has it been since its hinges were oiled?
Yuji breaks away from staring at the ceiling to look at his guest. Gojo Satoru meets his gaze. Ah, how long ago it was, how long he'd seen those blue eyes. It evokes nostalgia — he doesn't want to look away, he wants to absorb it so much that it follows him everywhere. He's missed it so much.
"Oh, you're awake," Gojo merely nods, turning his chair with its back turned to Yuji and sitting down. "How do you feel?"
"Like I'm tied up," he said quietly, almost inaudibly. Hearing a chuckle, he continued louder. "How is Fushiguro? Sasaki-senpai and Iguchi-senpai?"
"Do you always think first of others and only then of yourself?" the man placed his hands on the back of the chair, tilting his head slightly. "A dangerous trait."
"Yes," the corners of his lips twitched into a faint smile. "I've already got it." He even moved his hands a little to emphasize the point, pulling the ropes tighter.
"Damn, boy, I like you!" Gojo laughed. "But don't worry, Fushiguro and your little friends are fine, but you're not. You see, your incredible act of cannibalistic finger consumption set off a chain of events that completely turns your life upside down."
"Is there someone named Sukuna living inside me now?" Oh, Yuji can guess where this was going. Sure, things are a bit different now — who was he kidding? Everything's different. But the core remains the same — he ate the finger, he incarnated the King of Curses.
"Not just that," he tapped his finger on the wood and sighed. "Let me clarify again first: do you feel anything very unusual in your body? Strange thoughts? Maybe Sukuna is saying something?"
"Um," he tilts his head, listening. At least, pretending to. "No. But I feel like I'm missing something. And I'm hungry, very hungry."
"Something's missing, and you're hungry," Gojo drawled thoughtfully. "Good. Yes, that's good. We can work with that. Let me untie you, feed you, and explain what's going to happen to you now."
What's going to happen. Aha, so that's what they decided — should he praise Sukuna for being himself? Yuji doesn't resist as Gojo rips the ropes from his wrists. He stands, rubbing his wrists and examining the seals. Powerful. Designed not only to suppress his cursed energy, but also to conceal it. It's no wonder they wrapped him in them like a mummy — with his cursed energy, it's easy to mistake him for a curse.
"Sorry, but we can't remove this," the sorcerer took this as curiosity about something new. "These things are seals. Have you heard anything about them?"
"Was the finger wrapped in something like this?"
"Yes. You're like this finger now. But that's later, let's go."
Gojo leads him out of the room, and then out of the basement. They barely encounters anyone along the way. No wonder, Yuji thinks; it would be cruel to let them face him. But when they walk into what looks like a very traditional living room, he encounters a very familiar sorcerer. Fushiguro, wrapped in bandages, greets him and Gojo. He nods to his sensei, then glances at him and flinches.
Yuji is good at recognizing emotions; he doesn't even need to peer into a soul or the ripple of cursed energy.
He understands fear well.
"Oh, Fushiguro, you look — " he glances at the bandages. This Fushiguro hasn't yet lived through the horrors of war. Still young, still full of hope to save his sister. "...not so well?"
"I don't want to hear that from a mummy," Yuji has to listen carefully because his voice is quiet. So quiet that it seems like Fushiguro is struggling to pronounce the words. If his inhuman hearing were still intact, he would have heard it easily. But that's okay, he'll restore it once he soaks himself with cursed energy again.
"Oh, that," he tries to relax. It's still difficult, considering this body doesn't feel like his own. It's too small. He has to struggle not to stumble, to feel his own weight and understand how much space he takes up. "A great Halloween costume, don't you think?"
"This is no joke!..."
Oh. Yuji can't remember the last time he saw that look on Fushiguro's face. He raised an eyebrow in surprise, watching panic give way to confusion, and then to guilt. Bitterness dripping from his lips like blood from a bitten lip. What's the decision of these useless old men if he reacts like that?
"Now, now, let's calm down for now. Especially you, Megumi," Gojo immediately interjects, clapping the boy on the shoulder. "Don't embarrass him ahead of time."
"You didn't tell him," he immediately realizes, glaring at his sensei.
"Well, I couldn't starve him, could I?" Gojo turns to face Yuji and tosses him something.
A miracle allows him to catch the object, with his weakened body and reflexes. The familiar texture touches his skin, the taste of thick cursed energy settles on his tongue as he sees Sukuna's finger in his palm. He feels Sukuna mentally open his eyes and move closer, sensing a part of his soul so close to him.
"When you promised you'd feed me," he chooses his words carefully, trying not to show his hunger, trying not to show the drool filling his mouth at the mere sight. "I didn't expect it to be another rotten finger. Is this my diet for the rest of my life?"
He realizes it's not the best joke when Fushiguro's face contorts and Gojo shrugs, but he doesn't confirm the conclusion. Well, he should know better, considering he was the one sentenced to death, and this diet really should have ended with his death. It can't be helped. Even if the death sentence is still being discussed, he can work with something like this. Yuji shrugs and simply shoves the finger down his throat, swallowing immediately.
A wave of cursed energy unfolds in his stomach, trying to break through his body. It's no surprise when his own cursed energy, bound by talismans around his body, envelops Sukuna's, compressing it in his stomach until it's absorbed. Good. Even if his instincts are dulled and his body doesn't meet his standards, the cursed energy still understands the slightest intent and can still act as a separate entity. Evil, raging, still poorly controlled, but carrying the primary instinct to protect its host.
He exhales, trying to wash away the rotten taste with saliva. He'll be even more tired now. Yuji feels his poor soul devouring the younger version of itself, and now part of his strength is spent stitching Sukuna's soul back together.
How much work has piled up on him on the first day of his own incarnation.
"Ha! You're an absolute madman," Gojo's lips spread into that same half-crazy smile as he steps closer, pulling the blindfold from his eyes. "But it's okay; in our line of work, only such people survive."
Gojo narrows his eyes. Yuji knows exactly why. Because Sukuna's power isn't what it should be with just two fingers. It's easy to add two and two and get something other than five — it simply means he was created from the start as a vessel, not as a perfect half-curse. Not his problem; he's playing the role of someone who doesn't understand anything.
"In your... line of work?" He speaks carefully, as if tasting a new dish that isn't Sukuna's finger. "A sorcery?"
"Yes, I'll explain it all to you now," his — now sensei? — pats him on the shoulder. "But first, we'll give you a real meal."
Yes, Yuji thinks, curious as to what exactly they'll do to him. He follows Gojo, but it's Fushiguro who's following behind. He knows that situation. That moment when you can't turn your back on someone, and you follow them yourself. He can't blame them for being cautious — he's become that unknown variable, when the information about him seems clear, but visually it doesn't fit. A puzzle that can't be solved without outside help, which he could have been, but refused.
You can't surround sorcerers with care, because it undermines their potential and diminishes the power they should strive for.
But he needs to be careful with Fushiguro — this time he won't let him become the vessel. He'll devour Sukuna in his own domain if he has to.
They find themselves in a very unconventional kitchen. It looks more like something from an apartment where the kitchen and dining room are combined.
That's so typical of Gojo.
Food is already on the table, many portions, clearly meant for more than three people. Yuji doesn't complain. He's so hungry he could eat an entire store. At Gojo's invitation, he sits down at the table and begins eating immediately. Hastily, barely chewing, not paying attention to how carefully he eats. One portion, then a second, then a third. Food that he didn't particularly need, and which now doesn't satisfy him when his access to cursed energy so limited.
"Okay, okay, I get it, we starved you for six whole hours," Gojo says conciliatorily, gesturing to the new portions that have arrived. "I'll give you some more to eat, but first you need to hear me out about the situation you're in."
"Ah, yes," he lowers his chopsticks, but doesn't let go of them. "I don't even know your name."
"Exactly! It's a crime, I think!" Gojo isn't lacking in dramatics, given the way he raises his hands, conveying the full tragedy of the situation. "I am Gojo Satoru, the Strongest, and a teacher at one of the two schools that train sorcerers."
Yuji nods, sensing Sukuna's attention turning to the scene outside. Of course, he'd be interested.
"Okay?"
"Where's your enthusiasm for meeting me?" Gojo says, feigning offense, but Yuji knows better. He's trying to lighten the mood, to set the tone and not shock Yuji with the fate they've prepared for him. Unfortunately, Yuji chooses his own fate. No one will be happy.
"You gave my schizophrenia a name, knocked me out, and tied me up in the basement," Yuji nodded gravely. "I'm so glad we met."
"...how nice it would be if he really was just schizophrenia."
Yuji had to strain his ears again to hear what Fushiguro muttered. It wasn't a joke, not even remotely.
"I have to agree with Megumi there," Gojo finally says, drawing everyone's attention to himself. "But let's start with the basics. Ready?"
"I suppose so," he agrees, nodding just in case.
"Okay. People experience emotions. Different kinds. But negative ones have a nasty habit of congregating in certain places, giving birth to cursed spirits. They're made of cursed energy, which is precisely those emotions."
"A cursed spirit can only be defeated with cursed energy," Yuji doesn't even notice he's answering. He's rather automatically, remembering what Fushiguro explained to his younger self.
"You catch on quickly! To counter cursed spirits, sorcerers are born — humans capable of manipulating cursed energy. Almost every sorcerer has their own innate technique. Someone brings toys to life, someone controls objects, someone can swap sorcerers or objects, someone controls fire, someone enhances the abilities of others — there are so many techniques, and they vary from sorcerer to sorcerer, that the examples could go on and on. There are even more complex ones, for example, summoning otherworldly creatures — shikigami, as you may have observed with Megumi. Or my own technique…"
"Eyes?.."
"Excuse me?"
"Your eyes, they…" Yuji tried to gesture with his free hand, trying to look interested. "Glow?"
"Do my eyes glow to you?" Gojo leaned forward slightly, expressing interest. "Come to think of it, you looked into them calmly. Didn't you find them, how should I put it? Frightening?"
"Well, I don't quite understand, but…" He paused deliberately. "I saw a glow when I felt like I was being watched. But I wouldn't say it scared me, just felt unpleasant."
"A glow at the moment of activation," Gojo repeated, leaning back in his chair. Even Fushiguro looked at him in surprise. The man sat for a moment, tapping his finger on the table, then hummed thoughtfully. "You're probably very sensitive to cursed energy. Even if we think back to that moment on the roof — you sensed me before I could even say anything. You see, the point is," Gojo said, his voice rising, more deliberate, as if lecturing a crowd. "Cursed energy is needed to activate a technique. You see, or rather, sense, so precisely that you begin to perceive cursed energy in its dormant state. It's a good skill."
Oh, he'll be surprised that his cursed side isn't limited to just this one ability. But that's a thought for later — Yuji shouldn't be surprised by Gojo's calm understanding of his abilities based on a single description. How good, he can continue to play dumb while others fill in the blanks for him. Yuji has never been careful enough to avoid accidentally saying too much. Even with age, this has only dulled, but not completely disappeared.
"Okay?"
"Okay," Gojo nods. "Let's continue. Among the techniques, there are some that are passed down through generations. Clans form around these techniques, where their members raise children, hoping that one of them will manifest this very technique. Among them, there are three clans, three great clans — whatever you want to call them, I've always found these names pompous. I am the head of one of these clans — the Gojo. We'll skip the Zenin, I don't like those guys, but the Kamo deserve attention. And only because their technique is called Blood Manipulation. And, well, the users of this technique obviously control their own blood."
"Blood Manipulation... the Kamo clan," Yuji mutters under Gojo's expectant gaze, which he can feel even through the blindfold. "Did he say something about that when I... uh, released him?"
"Tsk, I'm not a dog to be released. You gave me control over our body."
My body.
"Our."
Damn Sukuna, but he should have expected that. No big deal, this version of Sukuna is more tolerable. At least he doesn't bother him with descriptions of how delicious meat is and what he'll do to people crawling through city streets like maggots.
"He did, but first," Sensei's voice interrupted him. "He's telling you something."
"He didn't like the way I compared him to a dog," he shrugged. "Who the hell is he?"
"Heh, valid. I'll tell you about him later. So, the Kamo clan's technique," Gojo continued, looking like someone tired of this dialogue. Him too, actually, he already knew who the Kamo were. "has awakened within you, with some peculiarities. Basically, you've removed the technique's limitations. Blood Manipulation users must use their own blood to fight, while you convert your cursed energy into blood. In other words, the Kamo clan has accepted you as the inheritor of this technique. Although it wasn't an easy decision for them."
"Because of Sukuna?"
"Yes and no," Sensei's tone became more serious as he spoke again. "Initially, I said there are cursed spirits and there are humans who fight them — sorcerers. The point is, you are both a human and a cursed spirit. The perfect half-curse. Despite this, you were accepted into the clan. But you were probably like this from birth. Do you know anything about your parents?"
"Oh," Yuji knew his reaction was too dry, but he didn't even know what kind of reaction he was supposed to show. He'd never really cared how people saw him. After eating the finger, he was always a monster, no matter because of what — his status as the vessel or his strange biology. "No, I don't know. Before he died... Grandpa wanted to tell me about them, but I was never interested. I declined."
"Well, fine. I can't say it won't cause us problems, but I respect your choice not to know," Gojo shrugged. "In any case, since you're half-curse, it changes something in you. Your sensitivity to cursed energy could be a consequence of that. But we don't know anything about everything else, so listen to yourself and tell me if you notice any changes."
"Okay. So... Sukuna?"
"Ah, yes. Now about him. Ryoumen Sukuna was a sorcerer who lived during the Heian period. Ancient texts and surviving images describe him as a towering monster with two faces and four arms. His strength, appearance, and lifestyle earned him the title of the King of Curses. Sorcerers once united to destroy him once and for all, but, as you can see, they failed. He cheated death by sealing his soul within his twenty fingers, which became cursed objects — they cannot be destroyed in any way. Many before you tried to eat them, either out of foolishness or lust for power, but they all died. So, you are the first to not only incarnate the King of Curses but also retain control of your own body. The vessel."
Yuji knew this. Better than anyone. Created by Kenjaku, after a millennium of research. The perfect vessel of the King of Curses.
"Does the fact that I'm the vessel change anything?" He disliked his title. The vessel is something inanimate. An object used by ancient sorcerers for incarnation. Yuji is a living, independent being. Yes, not a human, but neither is he a curse nor an object.
"Yes, but it hasn't been fully resolved yet. The Council of Elders has reviewed your situation, and..."
Yuji knew this would happen. As soon as the words "Council of Elders" left Gojo's lips, he felt the mouth open, one of the scars parting to reveal a red, angry eye.
"So you're not in charge here," Sukuna said condescendingly. As if looking at a toy that hadn't lived up to his expectations. Yuji, knowing what would happen next, didn't think much as he quickly grabbed a piece of meat from the plate with his chopsticks. "Hierarch—"
Without letting Sukuna finish, the meat was shoved into his mouth quickly and precisely, as if Yuji had been doing this every day of his life.
Yuji heard Sukuna choke, but didn't spit it out, chewing thoughtfully. Fushiguro seemed to choke on his tea too. And Gojo froze, his expression somewhere between surprise and laughter.
"Hierarchy without strength is useless."
Agreed.
"If you don't want me to talk, give me more."
"I have some questions," Yuji said dryly, popping another piece of meat into his cheek. If Sukuna really was going to keep quiet, he wouldn't mind sharing. Hell, he'd probably have to stop being the same brat he was back then, ignoring Sukuna. If he wanted to exist without hatred, considering Sukuna didn't particularly express any negative emotions toward him. He called this body "our".
"You won't believe it. We have some too," but surprise gave way to interest when Gojo lifted the blindfold again. "What an interesting body you have now. But you don't even seem to be bothered by this situation. How strong are your nerves?"
"The fact that I didn't lose my mind in your basement says a lot," Yuji again stared at Gojo's one open eye. "Or maybe I did, and this is the consequences."
"A complete madman, you'll make an excellent sorcerer," Gojo wasn't the least bit embarrassed by his answer. On the contrary, he seemed to enjoy it. "But, just so you know, try not to look into others' eyes. Sukuna's incarnation has changed something about your appearance. You'll see it in the mirror. But," he immediately clapped his hands, attracting everyone's attention. "We got distracted. The Council of Elders has considered your situation and recognized your right to be a sorcerer, as a member of one of the three great clans. But since you cannot yet control the cursed energy, your title of sorcerer and the evaluation of your powers will come after you learn how to control it. Until then, you are a special grade cursed object. Roughly speaking, highest rank.
So that's what they decided, these elders. Couldn’t keep his title as Sukuna's vessel as his sole description, they made him not a sorcerer, but a cursed object. The higher-ups are so fond of dehumanizing those they fear that it's almost laughable. Even the Kamo clan couldn't influence the decision. No matter how much of a stain on their reputation he was, one of the three great clans would not tolerate such treatment of a recognized member.
It's ridiculous.
At some meeting, he'll look them in the eye through the screens. Yuji knows what Gojo is talking about — his eyes have become Sukuna's eyes in color and shape.
"I'm a living, independent human... okay, I'm a living, independent being. Not an object."
"Right. It's just... a title. It'll change to the title of sorcerer very soon, so just be patient, okay?"
"Sorcerers like to categorize what they fear. You'll always be an object, a vessel to them, not Itadori Yuji."
Then they should be taught that I'm Itadori Yuji. Like dogs.
"Ha! I can't wait."
"Are you going to teach me?"
Blood manipulation isn't something you learn so easily. Yuji spent a lot of time adapting their methods to his ability to transform cursed energy into blood. He and Noritoshi spent three days a week digging through archives and experimenting. He can't just learn it now without using someone as a front.
"You were assigned to the Tokyo branch, where I teach. So," Gojo waved his hands again in greeting, "you can call me Gojo-sensei! I'll teach you the principles of control, and afterward, Kamo Noritoshi — the heir to the Kamo clan and the user of the same technique — will come to teach you.
Noritoshi, then. They sent the heir away and washed their hands of it. Although the choice is easy to understand — he's the only one in the clan who's inherited the technique. The clan is probably celebrating discreetly right now. Two users rank them even higher than the Zenin.
"Okay—"
"But!" Gojo interrupted him immediately. "Blood manipulation isn't the only technique in your arsenal. I told you that back on the roof, right? You have two techniques. And the second, if I'm guessing correctly," he tilts his head slightly, as if trying to address Sukuna, who's still chewing everything Yuji shoves into his mouth without looking, "is the King of Curses' technique."
"What?!" Fushiguro's voice is surprisingly loud.
"Come on, Megumi," the sensei replies flippantly. "That's the most logical thing to assume. If the first technique is Yuji's, then the second must come from the being he incarnated."
Which isn't wrong, of course. But it took Yuji several months to awaken the Shrine. Several months, his death, and the carnage Sukuna unleashed while Yuji was digesting his fingers.
"Tell him he's right."
"Sukuna confirmed your theory." It's surprising Sukuna kept his word. Yuji keeps feeding him. He frowned. "And what does his technique do?"
"Well, we'll look in the archives, we'll figure it out from there." The sensei's flippant manner deserved a round of applause. Well. Sukuna was clearly no help. "Oh, I can't wait, that will be wonderful."
He's probably talking about the higher-ups. Holding back the information for later? Very Gojo-like. Yuji agreed; he'd be especially pleased to see the faces of those old men when the information was revealed. Phew, he couldn't wait.
The conversation was probably over for now. Someone pushed food toward him, which he immediately transferred to his own plate. Without access to the cursed energy, he would be hungry. Always. Even regular food won't satisfy his hunger anymore, so he'll either have to starve, or...
He glances at Gojo.
...find someone curious enough to let him eat a cursed spirit.
Those are problems for later.
"While you eat," his sensei suddenly speaks again. "I'll tell you what you'll be doing now. The technical college where I teach has dormitories where all the students live. You'll be moving in there too. There's a dining hall, a kitchen — everything you need for a full life. At first, you won't be allowed to leave the wing — it'll be protected by seals. Inside, you can remove the ones you're wearing. Once you learn to control the cursed energy, the ban will be lifted, and Kamo Noritoshi will move into the dormitory. Is there anything you need to do before you pack your things to leave?"
"Well," he paused. "I need to bury Grandpa, pick up some things from the hospital where he was being treated. And pack my things."
"Then finish eating quickly. Megumi and I will have to accompany you."
The sliding doors closed behind him and Gojo, separating them from that... creature sitting in the kitchen.
That creature isn't human.
He'd turned Itadori into a creature that would never be human again.
Humans don't have that stare.
Itadori was sitting and looking for Gojo's eyes throughout the entire conversation. He held himself the way predator hold itself before leaping on its prey. The heavy gaze of someone who hasn't yet decided whether the person sitting before him is worthy of his attention or an ant he could crush with one finger.
He recalls that emotionless pause when Gojo called him a cursed object.
A narrowed stare of fury that turned into something that could be called condescending amusement. As if he understood exactly why he was classified as a cursed object, and realized he was above these people on the food chain because they feared him.
Humans don't have that stare.
"Don't forget to breathe."
A hand on his shoulder brings him back to his senses. He hadn't even noticed he'd been holding his breath. His lungs burn as he tries to control it, only to let out ragged gasps. He raises his hand to his face to calm himself — ignoring his nails, torn almost to the point of bleeding while eating.
Megumi doesn't remember being able to eat anything.
"Gojo-sensei..."
"Hush, he has very good hearing," the man moves his hand to his other shoulder, hugging him and leading him away from the room. "It might even get sharper with time."
"What have I turned him into?"
Back then, outside the hospital, he seemed to see his sister's image standing next to Itadori. The same glances, the same kindness, untainted by any malice. The one who immediately leaped to save his friends, the one who wasn't afraid of monsters that would have frozen many — the one who rushed into battle without hesitation and came to the rescue, even knowing he couldn't win...
...was transformed into someone more likely to defend simply because the attacker was breathing too loudly in its presence.
"You didn't turn him into anything," Gojo's voice was still muffled, even halfway down the hallway. "I don't know what he was like before his cursed part awakened, but he was always like that, just less cursed."
"You haven't seen him!"
"I assume, based on more detailed information about his life," the man's serious voice was surprising and at the same time uncomfortable to hear. "His cursed part was suppressed; it didn't appear out of nowhere."
"He was sincere and..."
"Cursed spirits don't hide their emotions," he interrupted. "They're simple in what they feel, and open about it."
"...he immediately jumped up when I said his friends were in danger."
"Oh, Megumi," he hears a tired sigh. "Do you know what his nickname was in middle school? Tiger of West Junior High. He beat up the bullies at his school, then he beat up teenage gangs of bullies, which included those from his school. And then he told anyone who needed a little thrill or was looking for revenge to come to him. Those he saved called him kind. Those he beat up called him a tiger, guarding his territory. Ha-ha, maybe that's true," he drawled thoughtfully, almost lying on top of Megumi. "Maybe he really was protecting his territory."
"I beat up bullies too."
Gojo just doesn't understand. He only has facts; he didn't see Itadori before he ate the finger. He doesn't understand how, as if with a snap of the fingers, those warm brown eyes turned into the bloody dark gaze of a predator. The problem isn't in their structure.
"...he's too calm," even this argument seems weak to him.
"Well, we sealed him," Gojo finally releases him as they approach the warehouse where the seals are kept. "In that way, he's like a curse, composed of cursed energy. We sealed his energy within him, leaving him with only a cool head and an empty, rational mind, untainted by anger, fear, and other vile things. I needed a calm Yuji, one who listens to explanations, not a Yuji driven by emotions."
"So he'll get worse?"
"Not necessarily, he'll just become...more sincere in what he feels," Gojo takes the seals out of a box with gilded edges. Particularly powerful ones. "And a little twisted in why he feels. We don't know how curses think. His, as you put it, kindness is a double-edged sword. You can kill people out of kindness. They're weak, and the weak suffer — by killing them, he helps them. Or he can fiercely protect the weak, because that's kindness too — saving the powerless, the ones you're superior to. Sorcerers do this every day — you know that well, Megumi."
"You're not reassuring me."
Itadori wasn't a curse, a half-curse, or anything else. He was simply a teenager who protected the weak, helped his grandfather in the hospital, and was stronger and faster than the others. He wasn't... this.
"I'm not trying to," he turns to face him, and even the blindfold can't hide the frown on his face. "I'm telling it like it is. Itadori Yuji is a half-curse, yes. But his foundation is human. He lived among humans, walked like a human, ate like a human, played, slept, studied, and so on — like a human. Either his cursed part will strengthen the foundation in its twisted way, or it will smooth it out, leaving us with a mad sorcerer with a good head on his shoulders. I'm betting on the latter."
Megumi can only close his eyes and nod. How could he forget that this man is the Strongest?
He faintly remembers accompanying Gojo back to Itadori. He faintly remembers how even more layers of seals were wrapped around this creature's body and hidden under his hoodie.
The only thing he remembers is how Gojo almost pinned him to the door inside the car, sitting between him and Itadori in the backseat. He's grateful for that, at least.
Everything is a blur.
Megumi recovers in the morgue. The smell of disinfectant hits his nose, clearing the fog from his head. He doesn't like that smell. It reminds him of the hospital where his sister is being treated.
Itadori stands before him, shifting from foot to foot, as if he can't bring himself to open the door. He looks almost human. Almost.
"Would you like us to stand outside?" Gojo suggests, casually shoving his hands into his pockets.
"No," he quietly replies. "No, it's fine. Grandpa only had me, so... I don't mind if there are more people on his final journey."
And so, they find themselves in the room with the furnace. Everything is already prepared — the furnace door is open, waiting for the platform with the body to enter to begin the cremation cycle. But Itadori is in no hurry.
His angle of view doesn't allow him to clearly see Itadori's expression, but he can still see him standing before his grandfather's body. His hands aren't trembling, but he carefully runs his fingers over his grandfather's face. He traces the line of his jaw, his mouth, his nose. For a moment, Megumi thinks he'll try to open his eyes, when his fingers hover over them.
It doesn't happen.
Itadori slowly steps back, bending over. His head rests on the corpse's chest, as if listening, waiting for the heart to beat again. He stands there for a moment, then straightens up again. Gripping the table so tightly that his knuckles turn white — the table itself couldn't withstand it, crumpling — he sends the platform into the furnace. He closes the door as if closing a book to return it to its shelf.
He remained silent throughout the entire process.
He remained silent when a crackling sound came from the furnace.
They didn't rush him as Itadori used chopsticks to gather the bones into the urn.
His hands still didn't tremble.
The urn's lid closed quietly, as if afraid to disturb the peace of the one it held. So, they followed the creature through the corridors, like shadows. Gojo remained silent, but Megumi knew he was watching.
They were led to a specific section of the cemetery. The place for the urn had already been prepared, as were the flowers the teenager would place on the grave. It didn't take long. Just something that needed to be finished, because the real farewell had already happened.
"Thank you for waiting," Itadori's hoarse voice finally rang out, as he turned to face them. A neutral expression, slightly reddened eyes — but that was all.
"Don't worry about it," Gojo replied. "I assume you're still hungry?"
"Ah, yes, a little. But I can't eat anymore if I don't want to part with my food," Itadori shrugged, but didn't look away. He liked to maintain eye contact.
Itadori ate enough food to feed three grown men and a dog. But he still insisted he was hungry. Gojo offered several suggestions, but they didn't seem to find any response.
Megumi was distracted by movement to the right — his gaze shifted there, only to stumble across a small curse perched on one of the tombstones. About the size of a large raven, the spirit had several pairs of legs and strange wings folded like a dragonfly. A low-class creature, ignored by sorcerers. He turned away and saw...
...Itadori staring at the curse with hungry eyes, as if he were looking at a dessert from a high-class restaurant. Megumi could have sworn he saw him swallow the saliva that had accumulated in his mouth.
"Maybe you should snack on that cursed spirit," Gojo says more as a joke, not expecting Itadori to actually do it.
But everything changes when he nods, and Megumi watches his guardian smile, intrigued.
It doesn't take long for Itadori to reach the curse and deftly grab it. The next moment — a splash of purple blood on the tombstone, the guttural purr of a predator, the slurping sounds of jaws closing, the same cursed blood trickling down his chin.
Megumi freezes there, bile rising in his throat, but he covers his mouth with his hand and swallows.
Megumi doesn't look away.
He has no right.
He imprinted that moment in his memory — that moment when whatever humanity remained in the creature finally died.
"Hmm, the hunger is probably caused by the seals," Gojo approaches Megumi again, placing his hand on his shoulder and squeezing it.
"What are you talking about?"
"Oh, well... Oi!" He becomes distracted, calling out to Itadori, who has finished his feast and is approaching them. "How are you feeling?"
"The hunger is almost gone."
"As I thought," Gojo drawls. "The point is, curses consist of cursed energy transformed into flesh. You, even if half-curse, are still a curse. And we've cut off your access to your energy with the seals — roughly speaking, we've stripped you of an integral part of yourself. That's why you feel hungry. And since access is blocked... you're forced to seek something from outside. Don't worry, I'll notify the right people. While your cursed energy is sealed, you'll have access to unconventional food."
Unconventional food.
Is that what he called the cursed spirit?
“Okay,” Megumi is no longer surprised by Itadori’s ease. “They’re no worse than fingers.”
No worse. It’s amazing he has the strength to compare a curse to a cursed object.
Their next destination is the hospital.
The hospital wasn’t far — no joke, they walked a couple of streets, finding themselves at the main entrance. This time, they didn’t accompany Itadori because he just needed to go into the office on the first floor. And because Gojo wanted to see how he would act alone in a place full of people.
This lasts about five minutes, after which they see the creature emerge, carrying a couple of tattered books. He seems to stumble, looking back in surprise at the third floor. A human emotion, pure and innocent in its manifestation. But then his face becomes impassive again, and he turns to them.
What was that?
“Your friends are being treated in this hospital,” Gojo addresses him. "Don't you want to go see them?"
"It's fine. It's better for them not to see."
Friends... the ones he ran back to school for?
Megumi soon gets an answer, an unwanted one.
A girl runs out after Itadori. He recognizes her as Sasaki — Megumi saw information about her, the girl who removed the seals from Sukuna's finger.
Her breathing is ragged; it was clear she fled the room as soon as she saw or realized Itadori had arrived at the hospital. She catches his attention. But as soon as he turns around...the girl's face, previously expressing excitement, first freezes, and then turns to pure horror.
She stumbles.
"Who... are you?" She almost breaks into tears, asking... who? Itadori? The creature he's become?
"...take care, Sasaki." He says nothing more, his tone calm, as if just a second ago his friend hadn't asked him what he'd become. He turns away completely and approaches them.
This creature...isn't human.
Yuji closes the front door behind him and sighs. The house feels alien to him. Echoes of emotions that could only come from his younger soul choke him. It has everything — from sadness and fear for the future to relief that his friends are okay. He pushes them away, locking them deep within himself.
These aren't his emotions, he understands that; his body and soul don't.
He just needs to pack his things, find a few other things, and that's it.
Gojo promised him he'd send people to clean the place and throw out the food. He promised they wouldn't touch anything. He said something about the Kamo clan not being thoughtful enough to care about such things. Not that he really cared. But Yuji knows this house will be maintained. He knows because he's returned here many times.
He just needs to pack his things. Do not forget the ones that would make him a teenager in the eyes of others. The posters, for example.
Especially the posters. If he didn't take them with him, Todo would kill him.
Okay, he could work with that.
But as soon as he walked into the room and opened the door, a very familiar stretch on his cheek made itself felt. Sukuna's mouth appeared on his face again. Yuji raised an eyebrow. Getting in touch? Strange. Hadn't he just been annoying in the early days? Although almost seventy years had passed, he could have forgotten.
"The sorcerers of this era are pathetic," he offered his observations. "Or maybe you were lucky enough to encounter one. The fear of you dripping off that brat could be licked away like blood from a wound."
Yuji hummed in agreement, not denying Sukuna's words. He had seen it too, he had felt it too.
"Are you judging by just one sorcerer?"
"I'm describing a first impression," the mouth smirked from his cheek. "I'd be truly impressed if someone didn't react to you like that, Itadori Yuji."
Itadori Yuji. Sukuna calls him by his full name, while Fushiguro got the nickname "brat". It's almost offensive, considering it's his nickname.
"I thought brat would be my nickname, given my ignorance of sorcery," he remarks dryly.
Sometimes, when the memory of battles was fresh in his mind, he would freeze, as if hearing someone call him brat. At first, he would flinch, then even that faded, leaving only bitterness. He hadn't heard that nickname in a long time.
"You can always learn," Sukuna sounds almost insulted. Almost. But Yuji just wants to laugh — did it even matter to him back then? "You've outgrown that nickname, Itadori Yuji."
Perhaps the presence of his techniques plays a role in how Sukuna treats him. Yuji is simply surprised that he didn't express anger or irritation at his ownership of the Shrine. He even confirmed it, as if it were self-evident.
Yuji is certain that Sukuna only saw the memories of his younger soul. After all, he spoon-fed them to him and still holds the door to his memory open. He had to deliberately slow down the process of the present and the future merging to hide this fact from Sukuna. He doesn't want to guess what his reaction would have been or how his plans might have changed. Although, Sukuna is as unpredictable as his mother. Even now, with his plans in mind, he doesn't know how they will be used now.
Especially now that he's gone from a brat to Itadori Yuji, and he's suddenly started calling his body "ours". In any case, hearing such formal address from Sukuna is a new experience, and not a pleasant one.
"Pick one," he says, unexpectedly, even to himself. "Either Itadori or Yuji will do for me."
"Ho-o-o, are we going on first names already?" Though Sukuna's voice was devoid of emotion, Yuji felt his smile tug at his cheek.
"Is there anything more intimate than sharing a body?" he chuckled, receiving a similar chuckle in return. "Besides, I'll break my tongue trying to say Ryoumen Sukuna every time."
"In that case, Yuji," although he was surprised by the name's choice, he didn't show it. "You're not too surprised by your situation. Just yesterday you were a non-sorcerer, and now?" Sukuna wasn't particularly curious. This was a different kind of interest.
"I may be surprised, but my surprise won't change the situation."
Yuji reached his room, taking his backpack from the closet. He could talk to Sukuna and pack at the same time. He just needed to remember where everything was and figure out what he needed to take.
"There's no point in dwelling on what I can't change," he continued. "Excessive emotions cloud the mind, and a clouded mind leads to tragedies."
"Indeed. Many have lost their lives because they couldn't think rationally." Oh, Yuji never thought he could have a calm dialogue with Sukuna. But there they were, discussing something. "But you're talking to someone you should be locking in yourself. Aren't you afraid of the consequences?"
Wow, Sukuna, a conversationalist? Yuji grins, folding clothes and other necessary items. Even the posters are already neatly folded in a special compartment. He has one last thing left to do — get a few things from his grandfather's room.
"They should have told me in detail what I can and can't do," he even spreads his arms to illustrate. "What isn't forbidden is permitted."
All he hears in response is laughter.
Yuji opens the door to his grandfather's room. His body involuntarily freezes, but he takes a strong step. He's already experienced this once; he has no right to give in to emotions again. His grandfather didn't hide the photograph, which was lying in the first drawer of the desk. They didn't really have many photos at home, but those few were either placed face down on tables, or on nightstands. Or hung on the walls.
Only one was hidden, and even then, without much effort. A worn photograph of their family lies in his hand — an incomplete family, considering they're still missing nine brothers. Grandfather stands with his trademark displeasure; Itadori Jin, the father, stands nearby, his arm around his wife's waist. And his wife, Itadori Kaori — or rather, Kenjaku — stands between the two, holding a baby. The scar across her forehead was clearly visible in the photograph.
And the baby.
It's him.
"Who is this?" It's not surprising that Sukuna is interested, considering the photograph clearly shows an old acquaintance. But the hint of anger in his voice? That's something new.
"Family," he shrugs. "But I only recognize grandpa here. There he is," he runs his finger down his face. "The baby is me, and these two are the parents."
"They don't exist for you," he says, fascinated.
"They never existed for me." Yuji peers out the window, noticing Gojo approaching the house with Fushiguro. It's time, then. Putting the photo in a secret pocket of his backpack, he slings it over his shoulders and leaves.
Well, it seems it's time for another interview.
If Yuji remembered correctly — which, most likely, he didn't? — the principal had met him in a spacious room and beaten him with a doll. So why was he sitting in front of him on a chair in his office? Wouldn't he be beaten?
But it was nice to see the principal again. Yuji still had a photo of them together, taken at the Goodwill Event. The only photo of them all together, not counting Okkotsu and the third-years. He loved to look at it, recalling their faces, refreshing his memory.
The face in the photo looked back at him — the same dark glasses, a rather stern expression, but even there, a kind side was palpable. He had missed him so much.
"So, Itadori Yuji, I am Yaga Masamichi, Principal of the Tokyo Branch," he began. "I have been informed of your situation. Frankly, it's the most difficult one in my entire sorcerer career."
"Nice to meet you, Principal Yaga."
He bowed his head. He was still grateful for the last time; Yuji wouldn't let his life be cut short this time.
"Yes, they've already told me a little," he tried to smile. "I've learned so much. About myself, in particular."
"Usually, you have to interview me before applying," he tapped his finger on the table, keeping a rhythm. "But the Kamo clan sent you here, and members of the three great clans have a slightly different approach. You've been accepted, in any case, but I still want to talk to you."
"Sure?"
"What do you think of sorcerers?"
"Ah..."
Not why did you come here? Well, of course, there was no mention of his death penalty yet, and now he's a member of the Kamo clan. Obviously, the approach has changed, but to ask such questions?
Sorcerers...
"Sorcerers aren't heroes," was the first thing he learned. But the most important thing. "These are strong-willed people who do their job, relying on their own rules and classifications."
"Hm," although Yaga didn't react particularly, Yuji still caught the shadow of a smile on his face. "You fell under our classification yourself. What do you think?"
"Ah, you mean the status of a cursed object," he almost spat out the last words, despite his composure. "I'm not an object. Although no longer human, I'm still a living being. But what do I think?" Yuji pursed his lips. "That those who gave me that status are cowards."
"Don't you think they're being cautious in the face of the unknown?"
"Would you call classifying an unknown that considers itself alive as inanimate being cautious?"
"No," the man replied immediately. "That's stupid."
Yuji merely shrugged, as if to say, "See?"
"You'll be trained as a sorcerer," he continued after a pause. "Which means you'll be fighting against cursed spirits. Apparently, you don't have much sympathy for them, considering you recently ate one. So let me ask you a question. If you're going to fight, why are you going to fight?"
Ah, there it is, that very question. Asked in a different situation and with a different intent.
"You know, I don't understand much about the power levels of sorcerers," he began from afar. "But Sukuna's finger, which is a cursed object, is considered a special grade. And I've been classified as such. I don't know what that says about me as a sorcerer, but... I'll fight because I can."
"Because you can?"
"Ah," Yuji nodded. "I may not understand your traditions, I may not understand the reasons of others, but... I know for sure that in battle you can only rely on yourself and your own strength. Although this is more likely due to my experience in street fighting..."
"Street fighting is still fighting," Yaga wasn't the least bit embarrassed by such an answer. "And it's also experience. Let's put it a little differently then. I know your past. Why did you do it?"
"It's...a little difficult to explain," he rubbed his neck. He couldn't just say it like that. And...he no longer remembers the reasons. Even his young soul doesn't help. "But bullies were like...you know when you read a book where the punctuation marks are out of place in some places? It's jarring, you want to remove them. Bullies are those very punctuation marks in the book."
And then — quieter than usual.
"And they're also too noisy."
Yaga didn't miss his last remark — he visibly froze, raising an eyebrow. An inconsistency in the answer that was hard to ignore, but he simply let it go. He was silent for a moment, considering his answer. He must have satisfied him enough, because he finally spoke.
"Then I hope a high-grade sorcerer will join our ranks. You may go."
"Thank you."
Yuji stood up, ready to leave, when Yaga added one more thing.
"If anything in the training is unclear, come to me."
Yuji smiled and bowed.
"I will certainly do so."
Extra.
"You shouldn't eat weak junk Like that one from the cemetery," Sukuna said suddenly.
Yuji blinked in surprise as he realized he was talking about the curse.
"There were no alternatives," he shrugged. "I would have eaten something stronger otherwise."
"Hm. That's cannibalism."
"Eating your fingers is also cannibalism."
"How calm of you," he laughed. "You'd really eat fresh human flesh, too?"
"Uh, I don't think so."
"What if I asked you to cook it for me?"
"That would be difficult," Yuji said thoughtfully. "It's illegal. Although meat can be bought on the black market, it's expensive, and you have to find sellers who aren't the police."
"...so the only problem is finding a seller?"
"Not just that."
"What else?"
"I'm poor."