Chapter Text
Yuuji had never anticipated becoming someone who utilized pain as a means to grasp control over their own mind. Yet, here he was, immersed in the throes of it, surrounded by the echoes of a mantra that seemed to follow him relentlessly.
If it's just pain, Itadori Yuuji won't stop.
Well, there was always the other side of the coin; a darker and more harrowing one. Pain had insidiously woven itself into the fabric of Yuuji’s very existence, a constant companion born from the world of cursed spirits and all the missions he undertook alongside Megumi and Nobara.
Nobara, whose heart had ceased its rhythmic beat.
Nanamin, too, who had sacrificed so much, his body torn asunder and burnt down to ashes in the line of the very same duty. Countless others had fallen victim to this nightmare, their lives extinguished in this fruitless war—all because of him. Because of his perceived inadequacy and lack of strength.
Just if he was a bit smarter, stronger, less pathetic—
Brat.
The sorcerer recoiled physically at the booming resonance of Sukuna's voice echoing in his mind, the sheer aura piercing through his thoughts, yet it wasn’t enough to pry him off his work. Yuuji’s gaze narrowed intently upon the glinting razor gripped tightly in his shaking hand, its metallic surface stained with the crimson trails of his own blood. Each drip resembled a shiver down the boy’s spine, yet amidst the discomfort, there was an undeniable thrill; a perverse satisfaction in wielding power over his pain for once.
With each precise movement, Yuuji felt a surge of control, relishing in the sensation of being the architect of his own suffering. It was a macabre dance, where the blade became an extension of his will, and the blood served as both canvas and testament to his dominance over agony.
Brat.
Yuuji drew in a slow, deliberate breath, feeling the weight of the sharp tool in his hand as he applied more pressure to etch another line beside the ones already carved into his skin. Initially, the touch felt almost imperceptible, as though teasing the surface, but soon a thin, dark trail emerged, blending seamlessly with its predecessors. As the boy exhaled, a pained hiss broke through his raw-bitten lips at the sting of contact between blood and skin. A sensation both jarring and strangely intoxicating.
An abandoned hospital in the center of Shibuya provided a desolate backdrop, its cold, unforgiving foundation offering little comfort to the sorcerer hunched over amidst its shadows. Numbness had long since enveloped Yuuji’s body, rendering him oblivious to the biting chill of the surroundings. Through the fractured glass of a nearby window, a gust of wind whispered, sending another wave of shivers down his spine and raising goosebumps on his skin. Yet, despite the eerie silence and the darkness that cloaked Shibuya in its embrace, there remained a faint glimmer of life in the distant lights, a reminder of the world beyond this forsaken place.
As Yuuji's mind began to cloud with haze, he reminded himself that this was necessary. A sacrifice made in pursuit of something greater, though the exact nature of that pursuit eluded him at times.
"How dare you ignore me, human?"
Sukuna's mouth materialised on Yuuji's right palm, where the razor was gripped tightly within its grasp. The burning intensity of the curse’s red gaze bore into the sorcerer's face, a silent demand for attention that couldn't be ignored. Were Yuuji’s eyes deceiving him, or was it concern flickering within those crimson depths?
"What do you want?" The boy breathed out, his voice barely audible and throat raw from the strain of yelling Nobara's name just a couple of hours ago.
"You seem to forget who you're talking to, boy.” Sukuna retorted, his tone dripping with nothing but disdain.
Yuuji mentally rolled his eyes at the statement, refusing to be intimidated as he kept his focus on the single eye glaring from his hand.
Sukuna, unable to extract an actual response from his vessel, shifted his attention to the mutilated wrist, curiosity lacing his inquiry.
"What are you doing?"
"Gaining back control," Yuuji replied through gritted teeth.
“You seemed totally composed before, hunting your little friend, forcing him to his knees, watching him break down most pitifully,” Sukuna jeered, his voice a twisted blend of mockery and admiration.
The mention of Mahito's demise made Yuuji flinch once again as he accidentally drew a deeper line than intended along his wrist. "F-fuck," he cursed, breath hitching as he leaned back against the cold wall. Fatigue weighed heavily upon him, drowning out the curse’s voice from below. The room blurred too, and Yuuji felt a wet trail down his cheek, too exhausted to even wipe it away.
As consciousness slowly slipped away, the boy’s eyes fell upon his ravaged wrist and Sukuna's unyielding eye right beside it. And beneath the anger emanating from that single iris, he sensed something else, something unsettling lurking within its depths; an emotion Yuuji couldn't quite put a name on.
Shit. I overdid it.
⪻────𖤓────⪼
His head felt as though it was encased in lead, an oppressive weight that made the simple act of lifting his eyelids a monumental task. Yuuji groaned in frustration and resigned to keep them shut while taking solace in the softness of the bedding beneath him. Awareness trickled in slowly, accompanied by a faint sense of unease.
There was a distinguished presence in the room that prickled at the edge of Yuuji's consciousness. The boy stilled, holding his breath as he waited for the stranger to make their move. But when nothing happened, he finally attempted to crack open an eye to see it for himself. Struggling against the dim light that cloaked him, the sorcerer blinked and gradually pushed himself up on his elbows, eyes slowly adjusting. He then let his gaze sweep the room until it settled on the figure leaning against what seemed to be a doorframe.
Sukuna.
The sight of the curse sent a jolt of apprehension through Yuuji, though he tried to mask it beneath a facade of calm impassivity. The curse appeared lost in thought, features obscured by the shadowy illumination and eyes fixated on nothing in particular. Yuuji tilted his head in confusion, silently urging the curse to explain himself through their wavering mind-link. The sudden spike in cursed energy seemed to finally draw Sukuna's attention as he lifted his head and their eyes met.
“Well, you took your time,” Sukuna remarked casually, breaking the silence that hung between them. Yuuji furrowed his eyebrows.
“Huh?”
Attempting to piece together the fragments of his memory, Yuuji's eyes flickered down to his wrist. Surprisingly, it was perfectly healed, devoid of any lingering scars. Light panic threatened to overtake the boy’s senses as he scanned the unfamiliar surroundings once more, realizing that he found himself in Sukuna's domain, or at least a part of it that he’d never encountered before.
"Your poor memory capacity never seems to amaze me," Sukuna sneered, voice dripping with contempt.
Yuuji's confusion deepened. "What are you talking about?"
God, he felt so slow.
“You’re mistaken if you think you can die before I allow it, vessel.”
Though his words were harsh, there was a hint of amusement in his eyes, as if he relished the opportunity to remind Yuuji of his subjugated position. Psychopathic behavior as usual.
"I own you," Sukuna continued, each word punctuated with a deliberate step closer to the bed Yuuji was lying on, until he loomed over the boy like a predatory shadow. “Your miserable existence depends on my will and my will alone, and the timing of your death is my prerogative.”
Yuuji's jaw clenched, his patience wearing thin.
"I don't have time for your bullshit about the whole vessel thing right now. What happened? Where is my body? Why am I here?"
Sukuna's eyes narrowed, features twisting into an ugly expression as he lowered himself, body radiating an intense heat that Yuuji could feel even through his ruined uniform. The boy blinked, and the next thing he felt was the curse’s hands closing around his face, pressing down on his jaw to trap him beneath the weight of his dominance.
"Dude, what the hell? Just tell me where—"
Sukuna's grip tightened, almost crushing his vessel’s jaw in a vice-like hold, cutting off his words in the process with a surge of pain that shot right through Yuuji's skull.
“The body you left bleeding in the cold? It’s mine,” Sukuna said, each syllable a threat. “It belongs to me alone. How dare you ruin it?”
“You know it was an accident!” the boy cried out, fingers scrabbling helplessly at Sukuna’s hand.
The curse’s grip only grew merciless, until a sharp crack split the air—Yuuji’s jaw breaking apart like fragile glass. A scream ripped from the sorcerer’s throat, pain devouring his sight until only darkness remained. The agony drowned him in waves until he could no longer separate the ruin of his flesh from the torment clawing at his mind. His wail reverberated through the chamber. And then, as if mocking him, the pain vanished in an instant. Yuuji’s jaw realigned with an unnatural snap, leaving him gasping for air in stunned silence.
Sukuna's hand slid lower and remained perilously perched around the boy's throat. Yuuji’s ragged breath brushed lightly against the curse’s cheek, honey-brown eyes wide and fixed on the deep wells of crimson above. Though the pain had ceased, a seething resentment lingered, causing Yuuji to tremble slightly beneath Sukuna.
Carefully, the sorcerer lifted a hand to encircle the curse’s wrist that was still restraining him, as the other hand gripped onto Sukuna's left shoulder.
"Easy now," the older whispered hoarsely, voice thick with something Yuuji’s ears struggled to decipher. Instead, the boy allowed his hands to rest, mindful not to provoke the curse above him any more.
"S-Sukuna," he began, still trembling in aftershock. "Please…just tell me…did something happen while I was unconscious?"
In the hush that followed, Yuuji’s mind raced, conjuring the worst possible scenarios. His lips parted, ready to beg—but Sukuna retreated in the same instant, turning away and striding to the bed’s edge with an air of indifference.
“Quit overthinking,” Sukuna sighed, not sparing him even a glance. “I can hear every pathetic buzz of thought in that tiny brain of yours. You were out for almost two days. That blood-manipulating curse from before? He found you and stitched you back together before you bled out.”
Yuuji’s mind reeled. The curse? Patched me up?
If that was true—if he’d been treated—then why was Sukuna—
“So, nothing happened? My body’s fine… more or less,” Yuuji muttered, parroting Sukuna’s words as if to convince himself.
If he was alive and breathing, then why was Sukuna so enraged?
The question gnawed at Yuuji, but he bit it down.
Then, Sukuna pivoted, a careless wave of his hand dismissing the boy outright. The familiar pull gripped Yuuji’s body, and before he could resist, his soul was wrenched from the inner domain and cast out with ruthless apathy.
⪻────𖤓────⪼
As his senses reeled back to the physical realm, Yuuji’s gaze fell upon the battered ceiling of the hospital room where he had collapsed a few days ago, according to Sukuna's words. The sorcerer lay upon a cot, his wrist bandaged, and previous injuries tended to, now causing less discomfort.
"Brother?" a voice from the right drew the sorcerer's attention.
Yuuji’s head snapped around, and there he was—the curse with raven hair pulled into two sharp ponytails, eyes carrying a weight of genuine concern
Brother?