Chapter Text
Toji’s eyeballs burn as Ryu turns the light on in his and Satoru’s otherwise dark room, drawing the curtains and shouting at the top of his lungs the following day. Seriously, he might as well have called an orchestra or something in there and it still would’ve been way less annoying.
“It’s, like, four in the morning.” Satoru grumbles underneath his covers, not even bothering to check the alarm on the nightstand between his and Toji’s beds for confirmation.
“Actually, it’s five.” Ryu grins with all his might, “C’mon now, kids. Let’s get up and at ‘em.”
“Is the old man still sleeping?” Toji makes no effort to move.
“Nope. He’s nowhere to be found.” Ryu shrugs carelessly and it’s shady enough to make Toji sit up to glare at him in drowsy confusion. “I mean, I knew he was a piece of shit but I didn’t know he was so much of a piece of shit as to flee the mornin’ after I pay for all his crap and not even say thanks.”
“You broke the dude out of super murder prison and got him a nice bed to sleep for the night with all the amenities and everything! I don’t know what you expected.” Satoru flaps his arms weirdly, trying to wake himself up.
“Still. Thought he would have some decency, y’know?” Ryu leans against the wall.
“Why’re you acting like some heartbroken one-night stand? Did you guys trauma-bond or something in that room last night?” Toji’s more mad at the fact his neck hurts like hell and he even made the dumb decision to bring Jiro with them anyway. All he was good for was grouchy geezer complaints and loud, dragging snores that probably could’ve kept even Toji, who prides himself on being able to sleep through anything, awake all night had he been slightly less sedated.
“This guy gives people trauma, what would he have to bond over?” Satoru incredulously glances at him. “That stinky old man was probably the same. What did we even need him for?”
“Nothing now.” Toji gets out of bed, facing Ryu, “Alright. You can leave now. We’re up.”
“‘Bout time.” The bastard grumbles like he’s insulted, finally departing yet still leaving tension in the air.
“I don’t trust that piece of shit. Not at all.” Satoru puts Toji’s own exact thoughts into wording. “Do we really need him either?”
“We can’t get into the warehouse without him, so yeah. Besides, it’s not like he’ll just leave us alone.” Toji puts on the slippers he got from the compound infirmary and walks to the bathroom.
He washes his face with cold water to wake himself up, yet every blink has him falling into a transient dream sequence, a sequence in which he can only feel Sukuna’s presence. Toji would think himself pathetic if it wasn’t the only way to cope with this gaping emptiness aside from getting unbearably high. The only other solution would be hopping off the balcony like Ryu suggested.
And that confuses Toji too. Ryu was so adamant on getting rid of him it opens up new ideas and strangely, hope, too. It couldn’t be a coincidence he randomly decided to tell Toji of Sukuna’s supposed death, knowing Toji’s dependence on him and after verifying something was keeping him from killing Toji. Now, suddenly he’s okay with it, even encouraging Toji to end his life. But Ryu knows Toji would’ve gone down with a fight had Sukuna still had a chance of being alive.
Toji gets it now. Something has changed. Something between Ryu and the two big families, probably even Uro, too. He no longer has to keep Toji breathing. And he used Sukuna as a pawn for that, trying to hold his mortality over Toji’s head and kill him without really killing him just so he wouldn’t have to have any difficult conversations with Satoru afterwards. And even though Ryu could easily overpower the kid, the Michizane would obviously want him alive.
So, overall, someone has given Ryu the green light and now he's trying to indirectly end Toji's life. He’ll stop at nothing to do that either, so this means everything he told Toji last night was bullshit and Sukuna may actually be alive.
Now, Toji has two objectives: keep Satoru safe just in case Ryu isn't actually being held back in any way from leading him to the slaughter, and find Sukuna. Oh, and watch out for any traps set to drag him to any earlier death than he would like.
It was quite obvious now that he’s really thinking about it, and hot shame fills him as Ryu’s voice drags both him and Satoru to the main area. Ryu waits by the counter of the kitchen, holding two shopping bags.
“Your clothes.” He says, and extends his arms for them to take the bags.
Satoru goes first and reluctantly checks its contents on the way back to their room. He’s complaining about the brand and material before the door shuts.
Toji instead goes to the bathroom, which also opens up to the main area as well as he and Satoru’s bedroom. He locks both doors and begins to change, trying his hardest not to look into the mirror. However, like with all things, he fails and is stuck to the sight of his sad, sad reflection, who could easily be the poster boy for drug awareness, plastered on flyers all around schools. He's sure just the look of his face can outmatch even the creepiest PSA.
He's still wallowing in self hatred when something shifts behind him in the mirror, just a little dash of oddity. He looks back at the exact spot and sees nothing.
When he turns back around, there’s blood in the sink. It swirls around the drain but doesn’t go down, instead expands and portrays Toji’s sullen, crimson-tinted expression in mockery.
He thinks he can see mushed faces in the ripples, smiles and noses and eyes. Red eyes, eyes that remind Toji of him so painfully.
“What do you want from me?” Toji asks it quietly. He grips the counter as he begins to work up tremors, running through his body like an electrical current. It’s cold.
It’s cold and it’s freezing yet Toji can’t feel a thing. His nerves have become numb to it, numb to the chill, and he thinks he’ll only be able to physically feel again once he reunites with Sukuna. Sukuna is his life, his mind, and supposedly, even his heart.
But of course, he should know that already. Time and time again, he self-destructed whenever Sukuna would leave him. Even just simply ignoring him would get Toji all riled up and anxious, would get him wishing he could just die right there. It’s why he prefers Sukuna to just hurt him instead, to be there and be painful.
The blood floods the sink basin, dripping onto the floors, onto his socks that he was given at the Michizane hellhole. They’re overly soft yet grippy on the bottom, like they were admitting Toji to an asylum or psych ward rather than the private compound infirmary.
Now though, as he backs up from the sink and finds his reflexes, he understands it. He’s currently going insane and he was the last person to realize it. Everyone knew because of course they knew, all it took was one look at him. The nurses, the guards, the pompadour prick—they all knew. The pills, the injections, all of them, he was supplied with mitigation of these manic feelings.
And the moment he started manually keeping himself sedated, they started coming back. Once again, dependence. He liked whatever they were putting in his veins much better than the bottles of medication, and he comes to recognize that there’s been a silent yearning for it all along. A silent yearning that can only be half fulfilled with the same old pills because he no longer has access to what he truly wants. Once again.
He gets an idea. A truly bad one. He doesn’t feel himself leaving the bathroom to fetch the bottle, but he’s got it in his hand now and he won’t think much past that. Quickly, a pill is taken out and crushed over the comically bloody counter. He lines it up, bends over, and has himself a sharp, brusque sniff.
His nose strings as the powder roughly invades his nostrils, and he takes a hard sniffle to try to alleviate it. Moments later, when he’s slightly congested and now changing, he begins to feel it. Much quicker and more hard-hitting than simply swallowing it down.
Mitigation, it is.
Toji doesn’t eat anything at breakfast. His appetite has diminished pathetically. His nose still burns.
“You’re gonna need some protein for the road ahead.” Ryu tells him, cutting up a sausage.
“I’m not hungry.” Toji murmurs and decides that’ll be all he says to him today. He turns around in his seat to watch Satoru go wild at the waffle maker, straightening his current stack of three while waiting on his other one to finally be free, baked, and molded from the metal contraption.
Then, as if it couldn’t get any more nauseating, he adds on the fourth one when it’s done and proceeds to douse the whole thing with Coco Pebbles, whipped cream, and both chocolate and maple syrup. Toji stops looking just so his stomach quits churning.
He silently gets up from the table and goes outside through the hotel’s automatic front doors, ignoring everyone and everything. His thoughts come slow and short. Instinctively, he digs into his pockets just to find nothing. Right. They need to stop somewhere so he can get some cigarettes. Oh, wait. Right. Right. Right. Ryu has his shit.
He stares at the grey sky up above and the barren trees. He knows he’s not anywhere near his town then. Everything looks foreign to him. Even the fucking cars in the parking lot. He turns back around and heads back into the dining area, stomping right up to where Ryu’s smugly sitting like he and Toji share a brain and thus, knows when all the exact realizations and wants hit him.
“Give it.” So Toji will have to speak to him a bit more than desired. He puts his hand out.
Ryu stares at it for a second, then goes right back to staring at Toji. “Give what?”
“You know what. Exactly what I asked you for last night.”
Ryu hums like he’s actually considering Toji’s request, and leans back in his chair, “...What’s in it for me?”
“What?” Toji’s lost. “It’s fucking mine, you piece of shit—what the fuck do you mean what’s in it for you? What the fuck—what the fuck are you talking about? Are you fucking stupid?”
“Woah, woah, woah.” Ryu puts his hands up as if to try to calm him down, and his stupid words remind Toji of back in the so-called tattoo parlor when they had bumped into each other. Suddenly, he realizes that too, is something to ponder. “You okay? You sound delirious.”
Toji sniffles, wipes his nose as if on cue. He hopes there’s no residue left on his philtrum, though he hadn’t bothered to check.
“Y’know, when people go through the stuff you go through, they start to lose their mind. Too much loss, too much depression, too much… constraint, and they begin to act like animals. Their brain begins to ravel up, makes them see things that aren’t really there, makes them think faster than they can speak, makes them eviscerate themselves from the inside out. They become a second immune system.”
“...What the fuck does that mean? An—immune? What?” Toji starts shaking. The room distorts.
“You know what the immune system does to foreign invaders, right? The cells see somethin’ that’s not supposed to be there, a virus or somethin’, and they immediately go out and destroy it. And, people of your condition, they start to view everything, even their very own body, as a virus. You know the rest. You’re a smart kid. A smart, crazy kid.” And then, Ryu shrugs, “Or maybe you’re just ill. Bipolar or somethin’, and you’re going through mania right now. Probably making it worse by tripping off drugs.”
“Don’t just throw terms around and try to label me with it. You don’t know anything about me.” Toji can’t see anything except the man in front of him. It’s freaking him out and breaking his brain and giving him an opportunity. “I—I hate you. I fucking hate you, and—and I fucking wish you were dead, I should fucking—I should kill you right now. I need to kill you.”
“Toji?” A different voice. Toji can hardly crane his neck over to look at the direction it’s coming from. Satoru, putting his disgustingly sweet plate of breakfast down on the table. “What the hell’s up with you? You look… different.”
“It’s fine, kid, he’s just—”
“You don’t need to answer for me.” Toji cuts Ryu off and for a moment, the real world comes back. When were there other people in the room with them? Toji thought they were all just strange blobs they decorated the dining area with. Of course, it’s a dining area. In the morning. When it’s breakfast time. Of course. It’s breakfast time. “I’m fine. Just… got a cold and I was hoping Ryu would—would take me to…to a—...”
“Drug store?” Satoru finishes for him and Toji actually appreciates it this time. Maybe that’s only because it’s not Ryu running his fat fucking mouth.
“Yeah. Drug store. Place for drugs. Or—medication. Pharmacy, or somethin’.” He looks down at Ryu, “So?”
“If the heir finishes his grand cavity tower already, we might have time.” The man’s smile is strange. It’s too sharp, like a wolf baring their teeth.
“I just got done putting all my toppings on.” Satoru slides into a seat and starts poking around at his food, his knife too big for his hands. “The servants usually do this part for me.”
“Real world now, huh?” Ryu’s mocking words ring in Toji’s head. The real world. He’s been detached from it as long as he can remember. Or, at least, since he’s quit fulltime sobriety.
“Can we just go? Satoru, just take your breakfast with you.” Toji’s still standing and now preparing to leave.
“What? But—”
“Just bring the fuckin’ plate and silverwear with you. They won’t care.” Toji tilts his head drolly, “I’ll even take the knife when you’re done.”
“Yeah, I’m not on board with that.” Ryu shakes his head, his pompadour bobbing with it.
“You scared or somethin’? I’m not gonna hurt you. I was just playin’ earlier.” He grins sleazily.
“I’m not worried about what you’re gonna do to me, more like other people.”
“When have you ever worried about other people? Stop trying to act like a decent person. Besides, you may think I’m going crazy but I’m stable enough not to stab random people. Come on, let’s go or I’m leaving on my own.” This is good. Since something changed along the road and now Ryu needs Toji, he can’t possibly just let him go. And if not, he’ll just take Satoru with him and they’ll figure something out. And they’re in public—no way Ryu would physically try to stop them.
“You think you’d be able to get by on your own?” Ryu guffaws.
“I’ve been doing it my whole life.” Toji shrugs. “C’mon, Satoru.”
The chocolate-chinned heir grabs his plate and is about to follow Toji when Ryu finally stands up, amusement drained. Score.
“Alright, guys. Damn, fine, let’s go.” He glares at Satoru, “And wipe that mess off your face.”
“Ashamed of us?” Satoru takes another forkful of waffle. Toji notices it’s also sprinkled with powdered sugar. Fucking hell.
“Yep. Annoyed, too. I’m gonna go start the car, get it warm ‘cause it’s cold as balls outside. I’ll be watching you both.” On his way out, Ryu passes by Toji and murmurs, “This isn’t gonna go the way you want. Just saying.”
Toji brushes him off and walks over to Satoru.
“Don’t worry about anything you saw back there.” He waves a dismissive hand. It’s still shaking.
“Did you sleep at all last night?” The kid asks, looking like the living epitome of concern and completely disregarding what Toji just told him.
“Yeah. Told you, just got a cold. Nose is stopped up and junk.” He rubs at his nose again and for a moment, it feels like everybody’s watching him. It feels like everybody knows. Paranoia burns. “...I’m gonna get something to drink. Stay on your toes just in case.”
He gets a cup of apple juice and takes slow sips while he keeps an eye on Satoru by the table. He wonders how even on these drugs, he wasn’t able to keep all these images at bay. He thinks he knows the answer: Sukuna is what he really needs, not cheap shots of ecstacy.
But that doesn’t mean he won’t rely on that until the time comes.
Toji does end up taking the knife from Satoru, though he has to wipe syrup and whipped cream off of it before they walk out. It was done prior to Ryu coming back in, checking out and leaving the hotel with them, but it’s obvious he’s onto Toji. Fortunately, Toji doesn’t care at all. All he needs is an opportunity.
“So we’re heading to the warehouse now?” Satoru asks.
“Mhm. Hopefully.” Something different shines in Ryu’s eyes. Toji glares at him from the passenger seat but says nothing. “We’re taking a few pit stops along the way, however.”
“Where’re we going?” Finally, he speaks.
“You wanted to go to the drug store, didn’t you?”
“Yeah? Where else?”
“You’ll find out.” Ryu smiles and Toji fights the urge to reach over and slit his throat right now. He remembers that the bastard is the one driving and if they don’t want to swerve off the road, he needs to be very mindful during this moment.
Ryu sees this and keeps cheesing like he knows it all. “Pissy without your sweetheart, hm?”
“I know he’s not actually dead. I know you’re lying to me.” Toji frowns.
The man’s expression hardly changes. “What makes you think that?”
“‘Cause I’m not a fucking idiot. Last night, I was just…” Zooted. Too zooted to the point he became emotional and nonsensical—way more than he usually allows when he’s around anyone that isn’t Sukuna.
“Just…? No way to truly describe it, I bet.” Ryu’s gaze starts to grow distant like he’s not the one driving right now, “Surely, that kind of state… would be very much appreciated.”
Toji doesn’t bother answering him. He’s too busy looking at the trees swirling together outside. They seem to switch colors vividly.
“You see the sky bleeding?” He asks instead.
“Do you see it?” Ryu questions.
“Would I ask otherwise?” Toji presses his forehead against the window, “The sky is bleeding.”
“You ever been to a doctor? More specifically, a psychiatrist?”
“I don’t have time or money for that. You talk at me enough. You prescribe shit, too.”
“Not legal shit, though, I’m guessing,” Satoru chimes in from the backseat. “You know, we could really report you to the police. You’re basically kidnapping us.”
“You both agreed to come with me.” Ryu laughs.
“Under tense, murderous circumstances!”
Toji tunes the rest of the banter out, irrevocably bored it seems. Now, he feels more hopeless than ever. Feels depressive and useless, just feels done. It also scares him, how he might not be able to hold on until he sees Sukuna again.
His heart pounds frantically and the world begins to warp again. It stays this way until they reach the drug store, where he stalls getting out.
“Are you coming with me?” He asks Ryu.
“You want me to?”
“Well, someone needs to pay. Or you can just give me the money.” It's a difficult situation; he doesn’t want Ryu to be alone with Satoru but he also doesn’t want the bastard nagging him the whole time they’re in the place.
The man makes the choice for him. He turns to Satoru, “Keep the car locked, kid.”
Satoru responds with something Toji can’t hear as he climbs out into the cold. He zips up his jacket as the wind beats on him, and takes on a slightly hurried pace to the entrance. His clothes are big on him since Ryu didn’t have his exact size, and he could see this issue with Satoru too. The child was practically drowning in his shirt, but at least that made him look as plain as could possibly be, even with his bright white hair and blue eyes.
He’s fiddling around with disinfectant when Ryu finally comes in, practically sniffing Toji out and heading to the exact aisle he’s in. He's just standing by the opposite shelf but he might as well be breathing down Toji's neck, and Toji starts feeling like the walls are closing in.
“Have you found it yet? Clarity?” Ryu asks.
Toji doesn’t answer.
“So that’s a no.” He laughs, “You’re still hungry, though, hungry for a bunch. You may not think so, but you seem to prioritize violence over everything else. Sets up a promising future.”
“I don’t have a future.” Toji shakes his head. The words on the bottle he’s holding blur.
Ryu’s quiet for a second, then says, “Alright then. You’re right. With the way you’re progressing, you won’t need one anyway. You’d probably just spend your life a murderer or locked up in an asylum.”
“Stop calling me crazy.” Toji drops the bottle and doesn’t even hear it hit the ground. He turns to look at the man and gets that surge of violence just previously mentioned.
“Look at that.” The bastard’s lips split into a wide, uncanny smile, “You’re gonna try to whoop me? Go on. Do it. Do it, boy.”
“Stop that. Stop it—stop treating me like that. Like I’m a dog or a lunatic. Fucking stop it.” He can’t bring himself to raise his voice, really never has been able to, so all he can really do is talk to Ryu in a low, threatening voice. All he can really do is snarl and fuck, he hates it. He hates everyone and himself the most.
He can’t stand being treated as inferior despite how he presents himself, can’t stand being played with and pushed around. It’s just been the safest option so he’s taken it time and time again. After all, every time he’s tried to divert from that, he’s either been beaten or neglected or taken captive.
And he can take pain, but he can’t pretend it doesn’t affect him. Strangely though, right now, it doesn’t. It truly, truly doesn’t. Maybe he is going crazy.
His mind is lost on him, all his thoughts and plans, so he does the next best thing. He takes the knife out and charges. He manages to pierce Ryu’s forearm but loses the blade in the next moment as his own wrist is grabbed bruisingly and the weapon is wrangled out of his grasp. Ryu, still smiling playfully, proceeds to grab more of his arm and twist it in a way that blinds Toji with how much it hurts.
Toji blows out a breath and squints his eyes but no more pain is expressed. He pulls away with all of his strength and stumbles back just to get some distance and time to dumbly think. The amount of noise they’re making in public is the least of his concern—this is his last and only chance to kill Ryu for good.
“You wanna go?” Ryu asks him, blood dripping down his hand. Contrary to expectation, he discards the knife, simply tucking it in his back pocket instead of using it to attack Toji in turn.
“It’s your move.” Toji heaves. He doesn’t bother to check the damage to his arm. He doubts it’s broken or fractured or anything.
“I don’t think you’d like that.” Ryu keeps grinning. He takes a step forward, then another, and quickly jabs at the boy. Toji just barely dodges it, gathers enough momentum to evade the next one too, yet finally meets disorientation at a kick right to the crotch. It’s then Ryu’s fist connects, and he grabs Toji’s hair to batter him more.
He yanks him to the ground and Toji lands right on his shoulder, triggering a groan into the cool, dirty tiles of the floor. When had it caused him so much pain? He isn’t sure.
“That’s good. That’s really good.” Ryu turns him on his back, crouching above him. “I wanna see more of that.”
He pinches Toji’s nose, and when that only visibly brings minor agony, he makes sure to break it again with the next barrage of hits. The following events happen through snapshots in Toji’s eyes: he grabs onto Ryu’s arm, digs his nails into the wound he made earlier, and is able to gain somewhat of an upper hand with the distraction of pain. But, like always, it’s all for naught.
As soon as he’s able to slither out from underneath Ryu, a needle is dug into his neck. He knows it couldn’t have been the man himself, so he’s left mazed and half-conscious as he’s dragged out of the store. He gets a drowsy glimpse of two people surrounding the car Satoru’s in and realizes he’s failed, truly failed in this mission he’s set for himself.
Just like always.
He wakes up on a bumpy cot and in a dark blue, prison-like jumpsuit. People are talking in front of his cell, their words muffled to Toji’s ears. Eventually, as he returns to the real world, he can hear them a bit more clearly.
“I really hadn’t expected it to work. It was just an estimation of actions.” Ryu smugly boasts. His wrist is bandaged.
“Well, we got the kid and that’s all that matters. The Michizane will pay millions for him, I’m sure.” An unfamiliar voice responds. Interesting.
Toji opens his swollen eyes a little wider and sees a man in a suit, his eyes dark, lax, and confident. His brows are thin and so is his mustache. A new face. Toji should try to figure out his personality, see his wants, and try to use him. The man doesn’t seem too evil, just centered on money.
“Too bad we have to give him up first.” The man continues, “He has too much value to be killed right away.”
“Who says he’s gonna be killed? Kenjaku isn’t stupid. He’ll probably use him as a test subject. Just like the Ryoumen boy.” Ryu suddenly stares into the cell, directly meeting Toji’s eyes through the bars.
The man follows his gaze, and now they’re both staring at Toji and Toji’s staring at nothing.
“Seems like he’s finally awake.” Ryu gets back to grinning, “Well, I have no use for him anymore. It’s your call, Detective Kong.”
“Yes, sir.” Detective Kong watches the bastard leave. He then turns to Toji and asks, “You got a name?”
“...You don’t know it already?” Toji sits up, leaning against the wall. His face is beaten and his arm and shoulder still hurts, but he can use them fine.
“You’ve been through a lot, haven’t you?” Detective Kong says. “I’ve been hearing about you for a while. You look a lot more green around the gills in person.”
“I’ve been through a lot, just like you said.” Toji gets up, “Been in cages my whole life so it’s not really a surprise to me.”
He gets close to the bars to meet the man’s eyes. “This, however, is new. Tell me, Detective Kong, what’re you really fighting for?”
“I wouldn’t call it fighting—more like working. And I’m working for wealth.” He answers, unexpectedly willing to converse.
“You don’t get enough of that as a detective?” Toji scoffs.
“Nope. I quit quite some time ago.” Kong’s eyes are grim and plain yet are some of the most interesting he’s ever seen. Maybe it’s how clear and honest they are when facing Toji.
“...What would it take to get me out of here?” Toji asks, trained for Kong to burst out laughing.
Instead, he simply raises an eyebrow. “None of what you have, probably.”
“I’d be indebted to you. I’ll give you what I have the second I get the chance.” Toji suddenly remembers what Ogami said to Jogo, something about never being able to get the life he wants, “And I doubt Kenjaku’s gonna make good on whatever he promised you.”
“You think he’s not gonna pay me for my efforts?” Finally, Kong lets out a little laugh. Just a small, tiny one. A chuckle. That’s fine with Toji.
“Would it really be worth it? There’s plenty of other illegal industries you can dig yourself into that’ll have a much bigger benefit. You won’t have to only depend on ransom and the bastard up top throwing you a bone at random. You can be your own boss.”
“That’s impossible. In my life and position, there will always be someone I have to work under.”
“Even then, wouldn’t you want a job where that’s not always in the back of your mind?” Toji tries.
“And what job would that be?” Kong challenges.
“Unlock this door and you can find out.”
Detective Kong stares at him for a long moment, then asks, “What’d you say your name was again?”
“Toji. Zen’in Toji, though I hate those bastards.”
“Well, Zen’in Toji, I like you. I’ll think about your little offer and I’ll see what I can do.” Kong turns to leave. “However, for right now, you’ll have to take what the system gives you. I can get you out of it, but I can’t necessarily control it.”
Once he’s gone, Toji goes back to sit on the cot. Though currently, he’s bound to face more torture and mistreatment, he’s making progress. That’s enough.
And it’s all he can hinge himself on to keep hope.