Chapter Text
Fushiguro Megumi could only watch in horror under the cloudy night sky, as the pink haired boy swallowed the cursed finger. He knew that the most likely thing to happen was that he died from ingesting the poisonous object. Unfortunately, that was also the best case scenario.
Megumi felt guilty for wishing that the kind boy would die, but the other, one in a ten thousand chance is too terrible to even consider.
As he helplessly watched the finger go down the idiot’s throat, it felt like time stood still. He knew that the possibility of compatibility was impossibly low, but he couldn't look away.
Suddenly, he was broken out of his trance when the curse charged towards the student. Before he had time to even shout, the curse was sliced to pieces.
The pink haired man stood with his head bowed and a hand extended to where the curse had been. After a heartbeat, he brought his arm before his face, as if to examine it. The man was still for a moment, then lowered his hand and raised his head to gaze at the sky.
Megumi was frozen in place. Maybe the boy had awakened his cursed technique, or maybe Gojo-sensei came to check on the mission. While these thoughts ran through Megumi’s mind, the clouds began to clear away from the moon. The cold moonlight finally hit the silent man.
The man standing elegantly before him had the same hair and clothes as before, but he looked somehow taller. Posture relaxed, shoulders back, and a neutral expression on his face. He would have looked like a serene painting, if not for the deep black marks and the absolutely terrifying aura of death that haloed the being.
Megumi didn't know if he made a sound to alert the regal man, or if he decided only now to acknowledge his existence. Regardless of the reason, the King of Curses turned his head slightly to glance at him. When the four crimson eyes focused on him Megumi felt like he was staring at calamity personafied. Those calculating eyes scanned him. He was pinned in place by the gaze that bore into his soul.
He can't breathe-
And just like that, he was dismissed as the monarch turned his attention back to the moon.
Those few seconds had felt like hours when locked into place by the curse’s eyes. That gaze had been absolutely terrifying, only showing calculation, clarity, and the confident calmness that came from knowing that one could absolutely obliterate him and not even break a sweat.
Megumi tried to keep his heaving breaths silent. He still didn't dare to summon his shikigami or even move. Who knew what the infamous curse would do?
Suddenly, a tattooed hand raised to the neck of its owner. The voice of the pink haired boy breaking the silence.
“What are you doing in my body? Give it back!”
Megumi couldn't believe it! Maybe the other boy could fight back.
—
It is known that there were three things that Ryomen Sukuna loved. What many don't know was that there was a secret fourth one.
First was battle. It has been such a long time since he had a good fight to the death against a worthy opponent. Or any opponent at all.
Second was eating. There was nothing better after a long day than a good hearty meal of his favorite foods. The yearly feasts he hosted were famous all across Japan.
Third was knowledge. During his prime it was widely known that he had the largest and most diverse library in Japan. He hoarded books like the greediest dragon and sponsored many other scholars to get first privileges to new literature.
And the fourth… well... even if he was let out right now, it would still be out of reach. So it's best not to have foolish hope and just say that this has been lost to time.
Sadly, none of them were obtainable here.
In fact there was nothing here.
No sounds, no feeling, no smell, no taste, and nothing to see.
Well, this was not entirely true. He could very faintly see four things: three strings of yarn that seemingly connect to an endless supply somewhere in the darkness, and a long stick made of bone with a hook. Every time he finished his work by cutting the yarn, it too was claimed by the darkness. He doesn't know where they came from, but it's the only thing to quell his boredom, so he shan't complain.
But other than that, there was nothing, and that wasn't unusual. After all, there had been nothing but his endless meditation for so long that he sometimes wondered if the before was only a dream. Everything he remembered was so vivid that it must have been made up, right? No human would have as clear memories as he has.
Then again, he is not human. Maybe he has never been a human. Humans aren't born with extra limbs, not even those like him who were originally twins. And, assuming he indeed had been born a human, were the second pair of arms an omen for his future, or simply a genetic defect?
It's one of the many one-sided philosophical tangents he is prone to getting into. It is lonely to have no one to bounce these thoughts with, not nearly as much fun as when they would curl up together next to the campfire and hold whispered conversations until exhaustion claimed them.
Perhaps it's better to stop thinking for a while and go back to sleep. It's one of the best ways he could pass time in this empty isolation. Though, he doesn't actually know if time passes when he does that. Or even if time is real. Maybe he is just existing in stagnation outside time for all eternity, however long that is. It doesn't matter either way to him, he is still stuck.
He isn't tired yet, so he should probably do something. Changing his grip on the hook back into its proper position, he winds the yarn around one of his left hands, not that he can feel it, and begins anew. Once upon a time this might have been difficult and taken time he hadn't to spare, but he has had long to practice and nothing but time.
Piece by piece, loop by loop, not a stitch out of place, and soon the parts are ready. He doesn't even need to squint in the dim lighting anymore. He has long since memorized the motions to assembling it.
The final thread cut, he lets the finished piece fall from his hands. It disappears into the darkness like all its kind before. Emptying his mind, he starts the next one.
Hook the first loop
Cleave the last thread
Hook
Cleave
Hook
Cleave
Hook-
Cleave
There was light.
After so long in the dark nothingness, the pale light blinded him. He opened his eyes just in time to see a blurry shape falling to the ground. It created a small gust of wind that hit his arm.
Wait, he had an arm?
Bringing the arm up, he studied it quietly. The movement felt unfamiliar, no doubt from being unable to move for so long. As his vision cleared, he noticed that the arm didn't look anything like his own. It was too light and skinny. The fingers too delicate, the calluses and scars missing. Only thing familiar was the dark rings and the claw-like nails. Ignoring the injured sorcerer, he lifted his gaze to the stars.
They looked completely different from what he remembered. He couldn't pinpoint the constellations of his youth. When the clouds disappeared from over the moon he had to avert his eyes from the blinding light.
Looking down, he saw buildings with a mix of familiar and unfamiliar features, lit up like they were burning from the inside. The lights were shining from every house in sight. It looked almost beautiful…
Suddenly he noticed the tiredness that had finally crept back up to him. It seemed like he would have to continue his meditation at a different time.
There was a small choking sound coming from behind him. Perhaps he should check on the bleeding sorcerer. Just in case. He turned his head to watch the spiky haired boy.
And it was just a boy.
A child frozen in place with a horrified look on his face. A reasonable reaction when faced with the ‘King of Curses’. He looked too thin and pale, or maybe it was just the moonlight distorting the view. The boy looked like he couldn't be more than 17 and was absolutely petrified. He just kept staring at him. What a strange child. In any case, the kid was bleeding all over the rooftop. He turned away, dismissing the sorcerer. The child wasn't a threat to him, nor would he die from the minimal blood loss.
He gazed upwards to the moon. It was comfortingly familiar, its cold light reminding him of them. He felt the light breeze and the pale moonlight on his face. He briefly considered ripping the strange garment off his torso so he could feel it more fully. In the end he decided that it was far too soft and comfortable to part with, even if a bit too restricting.
He was enjoying the new but familiar feelings, when he felt his arm lift to his neck and his mouth open without his direction.
“What are you doing in my body? Give it back!”
A young voice came out of his mouth. The original owner? How can he move? Isn't the vessel supposed to be suppressed in these kinds of situations?
He doesn't feel like speaking, so he sends his thoughts directly to the vessel.
Oh, you can still move?
The reply comes almost immediately.
“I mean, it's my body?”
If this was before, he would have chuckled at the confused tone of his vessel. Now the only thing he could feel is a hint of fleeting amusement before even that left him.
Hmm. Very well then. I shall return control of this body back to you.
With that, he retreats to his domain. He is tired, so he’s glad that he could leave so cleanly.
As he lays on the ground, he notices that it feels unexpectedly soft and lumpy. He doesn't remember it feeling like this. In any case, he isn't complaining. He sighs in contentment and melts into it, breaths starting to slow and frame relaxing even more
Just as he is about to fall into blissful slumber, he feels a poke from his vessel. He surfaces, a little annoyed, and right at that moment the brat unexpectedly pushes him into control. Deciding to just go with it, he looks around and sees another sorcerer next to the original kid.
The new sorcerer looks tall from his current standpoint. The kid has a similar uniform to the wild-haired child, a black blindfold, and white hair that stood straight up. All in all, he looked like a brush made with hair from a white rabbit.
From the appearance alone, he could see that the sorcerer was most likely a Gojo. His eyes being covered could hide the Six Eyes, but he might also just be blind. He would have to wait and see. Beside that, the possibly-a-Gojo’s aura is powerful. Close to his power from before he was sealed, but not quite. Anyway, with only one finger back he doesn't stand a chance against him.
Still, now he would be an excellent opponent to test both of their strengths. He is clearly the arrogant and annoying type who would want to play with and humiliate weaker opponents. He also cares about the Zenin boy, who cares about the vessel. In conclusion, he has nothing to lose in fighting the Gojo.
But he's so tired.
He stands quietly, listening to the sorcerer talking about something called ‘kikufuku’. It seemed to be most likely some kind of a snack.
As the sorcerers’ conversation fades as they turn to look at him in various levels of confusion. Probably wondering why he hasn't attacked them yet. His reputation truly precedes him. Just as the young rabbit is about to say something, he speaks.
“Where am I, and what year is it?”
His voice is a bit higher than expected. He will attribute it to the vessel's body being drastically different from his original one for now.
“Now now, don't you know it's rude to not introduce yourself?”
He levels the Gojo with a deadpan expression.
“You clearly know who I am. I asked you a question, leveret, and now I am waiting for the response.”
The younger one scoffs. Audacious. He likes this kid.
“Why would we tell you any of that?”
He barely manages to not roll his eyes.
“For the sake of convenience. I could easily obtain the information, but this would be faster.”
“And how-”
“Don’t overstep, Fushiguro Megumi. My patience ain't infinite.”
There was silence. Good.
He calmly walked towards the leveret. With every step he took, the white haired boy seemed to get tenser.
“And you.”
“Me?”
“You are clearly a very strong sorcerer.”
“Oh, it's an honor to be recognised by the great Ryomen Sukuna! I'm actually the strongest one today, probably-” The Gojo just keeps on rambling.
He hums as he passes between the sorcerers, skimming his claws along the surface of what is clearly infinity, before quickly snatching the bag from the young rabbit.
“Yes yes. I'm sure our battle will be legendary.”
Not deigning to acknowledge them further, he follows the railing and surveys the scenery. He pauses briefly when he takes a bite from the mochi. The taste is fine enough, but the familiar treat brings to him a great sense of nostalgia.
He's truly alone.
The only person that could be still alive from his time is the parasite. He doesn't know if that's better or worse.
No, it's definitely worse.
Jumping onto the railing, he continues his circuit from a higher vantage point.
The two sorcerers haven't approached him. They are where he left them, whispering and shooting wary glances at him. He doesn't mind.
The night is calm. The lights remind him of the souls floating over a battlefield like fireflies. The sight hurts his eyes after so long in the inescapable darkness, but he doesn't want to look away.
When he approaches the sorcerers, they shut up. He doesn't bother to tell them that he heard everything.
Once he's back next to the Gojo, he drops the empty paper bag into his arms.
“You… you ate my snacks! How could you be so heartless?!”
Ignoring the dramatics, he closes his eyes and pushes his vessel to take over.
As soon as he is in his domain, he teleports into the shrine and falls asleep.
~~~
When Gojo-sensei arrived, Megumi could breathe a sigh of relief. With him here there was no way this weakened version of Sukuna would be able to hurt them. Apparently Gojo thought the same, since he convinced Itadori to give up control for five minutes.
While they are waiting for the other boy to switch, Megumi finds himself annoyed by his teacher’s attitude. The most dangerous curse in recorded history could appear and attack them any second, and the man is talking about some random souvenir! It doesn't matter that Gojo is likely strong enough to keep them both safe, Megumi is still anxious.
So when the silence stretches a bit too long, Megumi glances back to Itadori to see if the switch had failed, only to freeze when the King of Curses stared back.
“Where am I, and what year is it?”
The voice is deeper than Itadori’s and the language ancient. Megumi has to take a few seconds to decipher the meaning. In that time sensei had already managed to annoy the curse.
Sukuna wants information, but it's clearly not a good idea to give it to him. Who knows what he would do? So Megumi asks the only question he can think of.
“Why would we tell you any of that?”
The answer comes easily.
“For the sake of convenience. I could easily obtain the information, but this would be faster.”
And, because Megumi is too curious for his own good, he continues questioning the most bloodthirsty creature in history.
“And how-”
Only to be interrupted.
“Don’t overstep, Fushiguro Megumi. My patience ain't infinite.”
The speech this time is modern Japanese, but Megumi can't even question it when his mind is filled with one single question.
‘Oh fuck! How the hell does he know my name?’
He is so in shock and Gojo-sensei is too busy praising himself for either of them to realise or react when the curse just casually walks between them to explore the rooftop.
When the pink haired man speaks again, the teacher and the student turn as one to look after his retreating back.
“How did he do that?”
Gojo hums a question.
“Know my name. He shouldn't be able to, right? Reviving the King of Curses is bad enough, but if he also has mind-reading powers?”
Sensei smiles at him, but it's clearly strained. This doesn't look good if even he is unsettled.
“He probably doesn't, but in some records he was claimed to see the future.” Seeing his student start to sweat, he reassures “But most likely Sukuna just went through the kid’s memories.”
That doesn't really reassure Megumi as much as it was probably meant to.
They stand in silence for a few moments before the curse stops walking. Megumi tensed, ready for a fight, when Sukuna suddenly disappears, only to reappear atop the railing. He then continues the relaxed walk.
Gojo whistles low.
“Damn. That's some impressive balance.”
Megumi can only nod in assent. The king walks just as easily on the thin metal bar as on the flat ground, maybe even easier. He knows he should be more terrified, but it's kinda hard when the source of the terror reminds Megumi of a cat video he saw yesterday.
“Why didn't he attack? The books say that he's a bloodthirsty curse who's favourite activities are murder and cannibalism.”
“Well,” sensei starts, “he probably got scared of my awesome power! And there's no way I would let anything eat my cute little student!”
Megumi almost rolls his eyes, but in the end decides that it wouldn't be a good idea to take his eyes off the literal King of Curses.
“Yeah right.” he settles on saying, “does that scream ‘a curse scared out of his mind’?” He gestures to the leisurely strolling man in the distance.
“Maybe he's just really good at hiding it? He had to do something in those thousand years, or else his elderly age is a waste!”
“...Do you actually think he was conscious that entire time?” Megumi asks in genuine curiosity.
He, however, doesn't get an answer as the aforementioned man returns from his walk. Both of the sorcerers tense in case of an attack. An attack that doesn't come.
Sukuna just walks up to Gojo, drops the now empty bag of mochi that neither of them noticed had gone missing into his hands, and just dips.
Itadori blinks, confused.
“That was four minutes, not five.”
He then turns to Gojo-sensei with an incredulous look.
“Did you do something to him? I can't hear him anymore!”
“Nah, don't worry about it.”
And then the tall sorcerer taps Itadori on his forehead and Itadori drops like a stone.
Hopefully his guardian can convince the elders to not immediately kill him. Megumi hasn't spent much time with Itadori, but in this short time he likes to think that they've become friends.
...
Even if it's kinda concerning that Itadori’s first thought after waking up from being possessed was to worry about the curse possessing him.