Chapter Text
The mysterious second-year everybody keeps talking about, Yuuta Okkotsu, comes back just after spring break. The first time Yuuji sees the guy, he practically shits himself.
The day starts out relatively normally; they’re in the cafeteria, eating lunch. Yuuji is shoveling ramen into his mouth and half-paying attention to whatever Maki-senpai and Panda-senpai are arguing about this time, and he almost doesn’t notice the doors slide open. Then, the most immense, rancid, and utterly terrifying mass of cursed energy he’s ever felt—it’s worse than being face-to-face with Mahito, holy shit—is suddenly coming right fucking at them, and Nobara must feel it too, because she freezes with her chopsticks halfway to her mouth and the color drains from her face.
“What the fuck,” she blurts, voicing Yuuji’s thoughts exactly as she reaches for the hammer dangling from her belt, “is that.”
“Hey guys,” the source mumbles, yawning. Yuuji looks up, and balks, because the source of the massive and deadly wall of cursed energy is just a guy.
He looks like he’s about Maki-senpai’s age, tall and a little gangly but unmistakably muscular under his white school jacket. His black hair is shaggy and disheveled and there’re massive bags under his eyes, and he definitely doesn’t match the dark, menacing aura that radiates off him in waves. Even Sukuna seems somewhat taken aback, as he observes from inside Yuuji’s head. The bastard’s being unsettlingly quiet, and Yuuji’s not entirely sure how he feels about this.
Then Yuuji notices that Inumaki-senpai’s with the freaky new guy, smirking as he plasters himself against his back, and it clicks.
“Hi!” Yuuji blurts impulsively, doing his best to hold back the fight-or-flight reflex that’s thrashing and howling in the back of his brain. “I’m Yuuji Itadori, and I’m into girls like Jennifer Lawrence!”
Okkotsu freezes, and stares at Yuuji like he’s got dried kombu in his teeth and he’s trying to be polite about it. “Uh…”
Megumi, who doesn’t seem to have picked up on the guy’s creepy fucking vibes at all, flushes bright red and elbows Yuuji in the gut. “G-good afternoon, Okkotsu-senpai. Was your flight okay?”
“Was decent,” Okkotsu sighs, rubbing his eyes. “Tired as hell, though. Think I slept for a day straight. How’ve you been, Fushiguro?”
Okkotsu continues making small talk with Megumi as they eat. Maki, meanwhile, is rolling her eyes. Panda and Inumaki are snickering, Megumi looks like he really needs to take a shit, and Nobara is gripping her hammer under the table. Nobody’s even mentioned how Okkotsu seems to be oozing enough viscerally frightening cursed energy to send your average non-sorcerer sprinting away screaming, and that his aura is only slightly less imposing than Gojo-sensei’s. It’s really starting to freak Yuuji out.
“Why aren’t they fucking reacting?” Nobara hisses under her breath. “You gotta feel it too, man.”
“Oh I do, yeah,” Yuuji mumbles back. He can barely sit still, and in his head, Sukuna’s agitated and has started muttering something about clawing Okkotsu-senpai’s eyeballs out. “Shut up.”
Nobara scowls. “‘S’cuse me?”
“Not you,” Yuuji groans. “The asshole in my head. I think Okkotsu’s makin’ him nervous.”
I’ll do it to you next, brat, Sukuna snarls. He’s pacing his innate domain, like a tiger in a cage. I’ll tear out your eyes and feed them to you.
Suddenly, Okkotsu’s staring right at him.
Yuuji freezes. Okkotsu’s gaze is paralyzing; his creepy bug-eyed stare has abruptly shifted from something that's merely unsettling, to cold, calculating, and genuinely pants-shitting-ly scary. That fight-or-flight response Yuuji’s been suppressing rears its head again, and he suddenly feels a lot like he did when he first met Gojo-sensei—like he’s being sized up, assessed, like a rabbit being stalked by a wolf.
He doesn’t like it. Sukuna evidently doesn’t like it either, because he manifests on Yuuji’s cheek without warning and demands loudly, “what’re you staring at, brat?”
Everyone seems to collectively freeze. Yuuji hastily slaps his hand over his cheek. “Hey!”
Sukuna’s mouth moves to the back of his hand, unperturbed. “Your cursed energy is rancid, boy. Is your strength really comparable to that Satoru Gojo punk?”
Okkotsu falters, his cheeks coloring, but he doesn’t break eye contact. “I mean, not really.”
Maki bristles. “Jesus, stop selling yourself short. Shut the hell up, Sukuna, Yuuta could beat your fucking ass.”
Okkotsu blinks. “Sukuna? Like, that Sukuna?”
“Yeah, that Sukuna,” Panda remarks. “Gojo didn’t tell you that Yuuji’s a vessel?”
At that, Okkotsu winces. “He might’ve. I’m, uh, still pretty jet-lagged—“
“—Correction,” Sukuna cuts him off, “this boy’s body is a prison. A true vessel would allow me to reincarnate in my true form, at the height of my strength and power. Once I’m free of this brat, I’ll slaughter you all like cattle and feast on your corpses—“
—Before Yuuji can try and slap his hand over the mouth that’s opened on his other cheek, Okkotsu lunges across the table, knocking over several glasses and sending plates and chopsticks flying. Everyone shouts in surprise, and Yuuji yelps as Okkotsu shoves his hand into Sukuna’s mouth, hooks his fingers behind his teeth, and yanks Yuuji forward bodily.
“I’ve heard of you,” Okkotsu says, his voice dropping dangerously low as he looks Yuuji straight in the eye—his stare is piercing and ineliminable, and it takes all of Yuuji’s willpower to keep from pissing himself in terror as Okkotsu-senpai’s creepy, beady eyes bore into him. The wild, unsettlingly animal look in them reminds Yuuji an awful lot of the bloodlust and voracious hunger for violence that he’s only ever seen in cursed spirits. “The Devil-Tiger Surmounting Heaven, right? The Two-Faced Demon-King of the Golden Age?”
“Woah, hey, what the fuck?” Nobara yells, raising her hammer. Panda hastily waves her off, and Megumi cringes. Inumaki looks like he’s having the time of his life, and Maki-senpai’s watching with a look of annoyance and mild unease. “I wouldn’t get in between ‘em if I were you, Kugisaki.”
“Have you put your hands on any of my classmates or underclassmen?” Yuuta continues, and his voice is soft and level, but the energy coming off him is so dark and menacing and utterly terrifying that Yuuji swears it’s making the overhead lights flicker. “Don’t lie. You won’t like what’ll happen if you try to fuck with me.”
“Get your filthy hand out of my mouth!” Sukuna roars. “I’ll tear your arms off, you little—“
—Cursed energy surges. Sukuna lets out a startled, enraged screech as Okkotsu rips his hand back. Yuuji practically shits himself when the tension suddenly disappears and he falls backwards into his seat, and something warm and wet starts to trickle down his cheek. “What the—“
“I’ll ask again,” Okkotsu repeats. His eyes are colder than dry ice, and his expression is flat, impossible to read. His hand is covered in blood, and there’s something shiny and white in his palm—it’s a tooth, Yuuji realizes in shock. He just tore out one of Sukuna’s front teeth, with nothing but his bare fucking hands. “Have you hurt anyone here at Jujutsu Tech? Yes or no?”
“Of course not, you fool!” Sukuna sneers, and Yuuji’s eyes widen when he hears the tiniest warble of fear in the king of curses’ newly lisping voice. “The brat refuses to let me take control of this damned body! If I could, I would’ve decimated this gods-forsaken school and everyone in it ages ago.”
The slightest hint of a smile tilts the corner of Okkotsu’s lips. It doesn’t reach his eyes. “Good. Now can you shut the hell up? It’s too early for this shit.”
Sukuna’s mouth vanishes, his presence shrinking to a seething little ball of rage and humiliation in the back of Yuuji's mind. Yuuji, meanwhile, is left holding his face in shock. Holy fucking shit. Did he really just—
“—It’s not early, Yuuta, it’s one-thirty in the afternoon,” Maki grumbles, shattering the silence.
It’s like a switch flipping as Okkotsu shrinks back down into his seat, laughing awkwardly and rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean, I did just kinda switch time zones—“
“Boo, you whore,” Maki retorts, smacking him on the back of the head, and Okkotsu yelps.
All the second-years laugh. Nobara’s gripping her hammer with a stunned and utterly furious expression, Megumi’s hunched over in his seat and flushed so red that his face looks like a tomato, and Yuuji wipes Sukuna’s blood off his face, staring with wide eyes as Panda yanks Okkotsu into a bear hug—ha, no pun intended.
Something’s really, really weird about Okkotsu-senpai. Yuuji has no idea why the second-years don’t seem to notice it.
———
“Oh no, you’re right, Yuuta’s got some freaky fuckin’ vibes,” Panda explains, when Yuuji finally works up the courage to ask. “It takes a minute to get used to, but he’s a pretty good guy. Trust me, he doesn’t bite—well, on second thought, not usually.”
“Huh,” Yuuji says.
It’s been roughly a week since Okkotsu-senpai came back. They’re eating breakfast this time; the girls and Inumaki-senpai are currently huddled around Nobara’s phone watching some video, and Megumi’s sitting next to Panda, bobbing his head to the music that Yuuji can faintly hear playing in his headphones—it sounds like Weezer again, or maybe the Red Hot Chili Peppers. Okkotsu, meanwhile, is getting his food up at the counter—he has to, because his meals seem to follow a strange diet that no one else does.
Yuuji watches as the cafeteria worker pulls a large, suspiciously stained metal bucket with Okkotsu’s name scrawled on the side out of the warming oven, and ladles several spoonfuls of some kind of raw, bloody-looking stew into his bowl. Okkotsu beams, bowing and thanking the worker profusely.
“What’s he eating?” Yuuji asks curiously. For some reason, Sukuna has snapped to attention inside his mind, and is observing intently. Yuuji decides to ignore him for now. “Looks weird.”
Megumi rolls his eyes. “You eat mummified fingers.”
“Aw, come on, it’s not like I wanna eat those things!” Yuuji complains. “Also, they’re not that bad, if you can believe it, they just kinda taste like soap. Can’t be any worse than Okkotsu-senpai’s raw hamburger.”
Right as he says this, Okkotsu sits down next to Inumaki, his bowl of mystery meat purée in hand. An awkward hush falls over the table.
Okkotsu blinks. “What?”
“Uh,” Panda says, suddenly visibly uncomfortable, “Itadori, uh. He… uh, asked. About your food.”
Okkotsu freezes. His eyes, however, go cold, not at all matching his anxious demeanor. “Yeah?”
“It’s just raw pork,” Maki cuts in abruptly, and judging by the clipped harshness of her tone, she’s not looking for any response other than yes ma’am. “Yuuta’s cursed technique needs a lot of fuel to work properly, so he has to eat his food raw. Something about the enzymes and shit.”
Okkotsu visibly deflates in relief. “Y-yeah, that’s what it is.”
Yuuji blinks. Now, he might not be the brightest bulb in the box, but he’s not that stupid. They’re definitely hiding something, and Nobara definitely notices it too, judging by how she wrinkles her nose. Still, she keeps quiet, and everyone goes back to eating like nothing happened.
That isn’t pork, Sukuna remarks, and to Yuuji’s horror, he sounds almost gleeful. Oh, that is most certainly not pork, I knew something was off about that little freak—
—Yuuji pinches his own thigh, so hard he nearly winces. Sukuna cackles at the pain, but at least he shuts the fuck up.
———
Yuuji wants answers, so he asks the person who seems to know Okkotsu best. “Hey, Inumaki-senpai?”
Inumaki looks up at him, arching an eyebrow. He looks unusually tired as he lays flat on his back in the greenhouse behind the soccer field, but maybe that’s because he was on a mission this morning. “Kelp?”
What’s up? He means to say, and Yuuji shudders as the freaky energy of Inumaki’s cursed speech rolls over him. The guy might be speaking in code to keep his powers under control, but it’s kinda like the special-grade cursed spirit they fought at the exchange event—Inumaki’s words might be unintelligible, but the intention of them is being projected out on mostly-harmless waves of cursed energy. It took a while, but now that Yuuji’s figured out how it works, his upperclassman’s words aren't too hard to interpret.
“Um, it’s about Okkotsu-senpai, kinda,” Yuuji says nervously. “About his… uh. Eating habits.”
Inumaki scowls. “Caviar. Tuna mayo?” Is he skipping meals again? Do I need to kick his ass?
“No! No, definitely not,” Yuuji blurts. “No, he’s fine. I, uh. I wanted to know what’s in that stew he’s always eating. Have you tried it? It smells good, even though it looks a little rare.”
“Bonito flakes,” Inumaki says, grimacing. You sure you wanna know? Ignorance is bliss, kid.
“You’re only a year older than me,” Yuuji huffs indignantly. “C’mon, why’s everybody so weird about it? What, is it some kind of special formula that’s, like, poisonous to normal people? Is that why none of the rest of us are allowed to eat it?”
Inumaki stares at him for a second, and finally sighs. “Pollack roe.” Don’t say I didn’t warn you. “Tuna. Pickled plum. Bonito flakes.”
Yuuji freezes. “It’s what now?”
“Steamed rice,” Inumaki says, as he digs around in his pockets and produces a baggie full of pills, of which he dry-swallows several. You heard me.
It’s just now that Yuuji notices the dopey grin on Inumaki’s face, as well as his eyes. Behind his heavy lashes, his pupils are so big that they’ve all but swallowed his irises whole, and his bizarre and honestly fucking disturbing response suddenly makes a lot more sense.
“Ha!” Yuuji laughs frantically. “Funny joke, dude! Mind if I come back when you’re sober?”
Inumaki just waves him off.
———
Over the next month, Yuuji learns three important things about Okkotsu-senpai. One, he’s dating Inumaki-senpai. Two, he’s trans (like, pussy), and he’s making plans with Ieri-san to get top surgery as soon as he turns twenty. And three? Well, the third thing is that he’s fucking weird, and that everybody kinda just accepts this. If he acts weirder than usual, you keep your mouth shut and don’t fucking ask about it.
He’s always been a pretty odd guy, at least according to Maki and Panda: Okkotsu’s resting face seems to be the world’s most unsettling thousand-yard stare, which is only accentuated by his massive eye bags, his constant jittery nervous energy, and the weird, slouched-over way he stands. No matter how many times Nobara asks him if he’s doing okay, he always waves her off with an awkward laugh, and Yuuji’s never sure whether to pat the guy on the back or run away screaming. Okkotsu also has a heart-attack-inducing habit of lingering in dark corners and behind doorways, and his footsteps are always so uncannily graceful and silent, leaving the overwhelming feeling of dread that follows him as the only way to announce his presence. He sneaks up on people easily, and to say Yuuji hasn’t had to change his boxers after being accidentally jumpscared by his upperclassman would (dishearteningly) be a lie.
There are days when he’s weirder, though. Those days usually come in the wake of high-level missions, and Yuuji’s not a fan of those days—Okkotsu’s always way twitchier than usual, and way quieter. His pupils are constantly dilated, on those days, and he seems to eat twice as much food at mealtimes, hunching protectively over his plate as his eyes dart around frantically. His aura too is so much worse on those days, so imposing and malignant that even the second-years avoid him like the plague. It’s like some days, the real Yuuta Okkotsu disappears, and something much creepier and not quite human takes his place—like a starving hyena, or maybe four or five pissed-off alley cats in a trench coat.
However, there’s a seemingly unspoken rule that no matter how weird Okkotsu gets, no matter how creepy his vibes are, you don’t bring it up. You don’t say anything about how Okkotsu stares at Maki-san’s skinned knees with hungry eyes. You don’t point out how he licks his lips when Inumaki-san accidentally gives himself a paper cut. You keep your mouth shut and your eyes down, and if you notice dried blood crusted under his nails or the way he stares at people the same way a cat might watch songbirds, no you fucking didn’t.
Okkotsu’s fucking weird. Everybody knows it, but nobody talks about it. Maybe they’re afraid to.
Yuuji’s still not quite used to Okkotsu’s creepy weirdness yet. It’s easy enough to ignore, but that badwrong feeling’s always prickling in the back of his mind; something about Okkotsu is just fucking off and Yuuji’s survival instincts feel like they’ve been dialed up to eleven. However, Okkotsu’s deeply unnerving aura seems to be one of the few things capable of shutting Sukuna up, and thus, Yuuji’s willing to put up with it.
“So like, Fushiguro says you’re crazy strong,” he says, as he sits next to his upperclassman on the bench in the garden behind the dorms, watching him pack the bowl of his bong—usually he smokes with Inumaki-senpai, the other resident stoner, but the guy’s off in Nagoya on a mission for the day. Yuuji’s always wanted to try weed, but he’s always been way too nervous about getting in trouble with the cops, and he feels guilty about intruding when Inumaki’s around. Inumaki-senpai claims that he only uses drugs for his chronic throat pain, but he’s probably got some kind of dependency going on, considering the guy shows up to class higher than a kite on medical-grade painkillers at least twice a week. “What’s your technique, anyway? Fushiguro said something about stealing people’s powers?”
“Kinda,” Okkotsu replies mildly, as he tucks the little baggie of weed away in his pocket. “I can copy and use others’ cursed techniques.”
Yuuji gasps. “Wait, anybody’s? Even—”
Okkotsu laughs bashfully, looking slightly embarrassed as he rummages around in his pockets and produces a battered lighter. “Even Gojo’s, yeah. I haven’t tried yet, though, because it would probably take a lot out of me to do it, and I’m not sure how well it’d go over with the higher-ups. Another person with the Limitless and Six Eyes walking around would probably send them into hysterics.”
Inside Yuuji’s mind, Sukuna bristles. He’s already on edge from being around Okkotsu, and hearing what he can do clearly isn’t helping. Ah, so he’s a coward, yes?
Yuuji pinches himself. “All I ever hear about the higher-ups is that they suck,” he says. “Do they really suck that much? I mean, they did try to kill me. Like, twice. It worked the first time, but I got better.”
“Yeah,” Okkotsu murmurs, and his perpetually sad eyes get sadder. He doesn’t seem too interested in continuing this line of conversation. “Yeah, they suck ass.”
He holds the bong to his lips, and lights the bowl. Yuuji watches, wide-eyed, as Okkotsu takes a long drag, holding it in for a moment before he exhales slowly. The smoke is startlingly pungent when it’s this fresh, and Yuuji wrinkles his nose. “Eugh.”
Okkotsu huffs in amusement. A thin curl of smoke shoots out from between his teeth. “Wanna try?”
Yuuji nods, and takes the bong. He tries to mimic what Okkotsu did, but he just ends up doubled over and coughing violently. His eyes are tearing up by the time he finally recovers, and Okkotsu gives him a pitying frown. “You okay?”
“Peachy,” Yuuji wheezes. His mouth’s parched, and the awful taste of weed is stuck in his raw throat. “How the hell did you—“
He coughs again. Okkotsu winces and pats him on the back. He has really nice, strong hands.
“I kinda cheat,” Okkotsu says, after Yuuji’s coughs subside. “With my reversed cursed technique, yeah. But don’t breathe in so fast, you’re inexperienced. Here, try this.”
Yuuji freezes as Okkotsu takes another hit, then tips his chin up and exhales into his mouth. The smoke goes down much smoother when Yuuji breathes it in this time, and Okkotsu’s lidded eyes have him pinned in place—they’re already bloodshot and starting to droop. He must’ve already been smoking out here for a while before Yuuji stumbled across him.
“Better?” Okkotsu murmurs.
“Yeah,” Yuuji squeaks, his face burning.
———
They run into Nobara at the vending machines. Yuuji’s pretty sure he’s high, but he can’t really tell. He feels too warm and sleepy to think straight, and everything’s really fucking funny right now. Best of all, Sukuna’s finally shut up, and Yuuji is loving it.
“Heeyyyyyyy, Norbs,” he slurs, slinging his arm around her. “I think I’m high.”
Nobara stares at him like he’s a piece of roadkill. “No shit, you smell absolutely skunked.”
Okkotsu, meanwhile, is struggling to figure out the vending machine. His brow is furrowed, and his eyes… holy shit, Yuuji never noticed how pretty his senpai’s eyes were; they’re like clouds on a stormy day, or something. “Oh fuck.”
Yuuji blinks. “Huh?”
“I’m out of fifty-yen coins,” Okkotsu mumbles. He sounds like he’s about to start crying.
“Oh my god, idiot,” Maki sighs, seemingly appearing out of nowhere. She throws a handful of change at Okkotsu, rolling her eyes in annoyance. “I hate it when he and Toge are separated. It’s like they absorb each others’ weird freak bullshit when they’re together so I don’t have to put up with it.”
Okkotsu, who’s fumbling around on the floor for the coins, pouts. “Makiiiiiiiiiiiiii.”
Maki huffs, visibly trying not to smile. “Idiot.”
“You have a really nice smile, Maki-senpai,” Yuuji blurts.
Maki, of course, does not let this slide.
His high wears off around dinner. Yuuji feels weirdly groggy and almost hungover, and he’s nursing the black eye Maki gave him, watching as Okkotsu and Inumaki fawn over each other. Sukuna’s back, too, and he’s once again providing unwanted commentary.
They sicken me, the king of curses grumbles, as Inumaki spoon-feeds Okkotsu his mystery meat, smiling dreamily the whole time. Insufferable, lovestruck fools, that’s what they are.
“I think it’s kinda romantic,” Yuuji mumbles under his breath.
Sukuna scoffs. I wonder if the cursed-speech user knows what’s in that stew. Judging from how flippantly he handles it, he likely doesn’t. I wonder how he’d feel if I told him…
Yuuji smacks a hand over his cheek. “Don’t you fucking dare—“
“You! Curse-mouthed brat!” Sukuna demands, his mouth and eye opening on Yuuji’s other cheek. “Are you aware of what exactly that monster you call your lover eats every day? As a fellow… gourmand, shall we say, I could easily—“
—Without warning, Okkotsu bolts to his feet. He moves so fast that Yuuji’s barely even able to track his movement, and then the guy’s grabbing him by the face, and—
“—Sorry, Itadori,” Okkotsu says, his expression cold and dead—
—There’s an awful, fleshy ripping sound and Sukuna lets out a horrible gurgling scream, his mouth spewing a disgusting spray of blood before it closes and vanishes from Yuuji’s cheek. Yuuji falls out of his chair with a yelp when Okkotsu lets go of him, slapping a hand over his face in shock.
It feels warm, wet, and nauseatingly sticky. Yuuji does his best not to hurl.
“I told you,” Okkotsu says, and his voice is frighteningly calm, despite how a splatter of Sukuna’s blood is dripping down his face like a vermillion oil slick. There’s something pink and fleshy in Okkotsu’s hand, which he pauses to absentmindedly take a bite out of. Blood leaks from the corner of his mouth when he chews. “You wouldn’t like what would happen if you fucked with me.”
Oh my god, Yuuji suddenly realizes, and his blood runs cold when he sees the cursed seal on the pink thing that matches the one on Sukuna’s forehead. Oh my fucking god, that’s his tongue.
Everyone else seems startled, but not exactly alarmed. Maki and Megumi look a little annoyed and Panda looks kinda grossed out, while Inumaki has this awestruck look on his face that absolutely reeks of I need to fuck him RIGHT NOW. Nobara is the only one who looks appropriately disgusted and horrified, and her face is white as a sheet. “What the… did he just—”
—Inumaki grabs Okkotsu by the collar and practically shoves his tongue down his boyfriend’s throat, heedless of the blood all over his face.
“Fucking gross!” Maki yells, while Megumi looks away blushing furiously, and Panda pelts them with a dumpling. “Take your freak asses to horny jail!”
Inumaki cackles, and drags Okkotsu (who flushes pink and hastily shoves the rest of Sukuna’s mangled tongue into his mouth) out of the cafeteria. Meanwhile, Panda is cracking up, and Nobara looks like she’s about to puke.
“He just ripped out his…” she stammers, glancing back and forth between Okkotsu’s unfinished mystery meat, Yuuji as he clutches his cheek in shock, and the cafeteria doors, all with a nauseated expression. “And then he ate… oh my fucking god.”
Nobara jumps up and sprints for the nearest trash can. Yuuji almost feels inclined to follow her.
———
When Yuuji goes to sleep that night, he wakes in Sukuna’s domain. “Oh, fuck off!”
Up on his throne atop the mountain of cow skulls, Sukuna sneers at him. “Rude.”
“Yeah, and you’re one to talk,” Yuuji snaps, kicking the layer of blood that covers the floor of Sukuna’s domain. It splashes on his shoes, but somehow doesn’t stain them, or even make them wet. “Okkotsu-senpai didn’t do anything to you at first, why’re you being such a dick?”
“Gods, you’re dull,” Sukuna scoffs.
Yuuji bristles. “Hey!”
He tries jumping up to the throne and punching Sukuna in his asshole face. As usual, the bastard easily ducks out of the way. Then, before Yuuji can react, Sukuna kicks him in the back.
Yuuji bounces down the pile of skulls, and lands in the blood below, wheezing. “Fuck you!”
“You have no sense of danger, either,” Sukuna says, gazing down at Yuuji with sadistic amusement. “You do understand that hanging around that Okkotsu brat isn’t helping your already stunted lifespan, right?”
“He just doesn’t like you,” Yuuji retorts, “because you’re a fucking dick and you start shit for no reason. What, are you scared of him?”
“Of course not,” Sukuna huffs, but there’s the slightest amount of hesitation in his voice. Yuuji might not be the sharpest knife in the drawer, but he knows the ways fear will make someone’s voice falter. “Are you really too stupid to see the monster right in front of you? I’m a beast as much as he is, but at least I don’t hide behind the mask of a sniveling coward.”
Yuuji grabs a skull by its horns and chucks it at Sukuna. The asshole steps out of the way with a sneer.
“Yuuta Okkotsu might be damn good at putting on this pathetic, goody two-shoes act of his, but he is still a wolf in sheep’s clothing,” Sukuna continues, and if Yuuji didn’t know better, he’d say that the king of curses looks almost boyishly excited. “It fascinates me that you haven’t realized what he’s eating yet. What was that one moving picture you watched while Six Eyes was keeping us hostage in his basement? The American one with overpopulation and the big food production company?”
Yuuji blinks. “You mean Soylent Green? The hell does an old movie have to do with this?”
“I know my meats,” Sukuna says, grinning maliciously. “And I know a good cut of human flesh when I see one.”